Things in Ohio, not in Washington;
Fields of grasses...
Wonderful old barns...
Soybeans...
Road kill. (lucky for you, no picture)
Teasels... (i don't know if that's what this is, but that's what i want to call it.)
Corn... (okay, there is corn here, but there is LOTS of corn there.)
Tent caterpillars... (again, no picture because they creep me out.)
CRICKETS! I love that noise they make at night.
Em...
Tomorrow morning, Em and i are flying to Ohio. I am accompanying her to kick off the beginning of her sophomore year of college.
Did you hear that? Her sophomore year of college!
How the hell did that happen?
This year, in much contrast to last year, i am just staying long enough to get her stuff from storage and drive it to her dorm room. I am becoming obsolete, or i will be as soon as she is old enough to rent a car.
Since i am really just going as the wallet and the chauffeur, i am only taking one small purse-sized bag. I am not even going to take my laptop. I am a little anxious about leaving my precious behind, but i think i am far enough along in my rehab to take this momentous step. It's kind of refreshing to reduce my stuff down to the essentials, which, by the way, include my Kindle, my camera and my ipod. I have my priorities in order.
Mixed feelings about Em being gone again. I realize that i view these little trips off to college as temporary things, just something that has to be endured before she comes home where she belongs. Anyone else recognize the denial in that? Yeah.
But it will be quieter and neater around here. Not a very good trade off for her company, but hey, i'm looking for any good i can in this.
I will be leaving The Mister at home alone for the weekend. Wonder what will happen in my absence? Will the cat get fed? Will the dishwasher get run? Stay tuned....
Back lit field of fire weed and tow-headed babies (also known as mouse on a stick.)
It's been oppressively hot here lately, the kind of hot that has middle-aged women, myself included, wearing severely inappropriate outfits, and NO ONE frowns disapprovingly at us.
So i borrowed The Mister's car and took off to the mountains to go hiking with Kim.
We got up at the crack of 8:30, in time to eat the magnificent repast provided for us at the B&B where we stayed, then moseyed on out of the place at 10 am or so.
After stopping at the Ranger Station, we decided to tackle a hike that would require every fancy-assed gadget on The Mister's SUV in order to reach the trail head. High clearance, low gears and Hill Descent Control. WHEEEEEE!
As we were bumping along, about a mile below the trail head, we come across a white pickup, stuck in a ditch on the roadside, such that no one could get past in either direction.
And OH! GET THIS! The Stuck Truck is a FOREST SERVICE vehicle containing two mortified young ladies in their little forest service uniforms.
Kim and i get out, joining Grumpy Smoker Woman and Boring Man, who are blocked from above by Stuck Truck. (NOTE: Made up names reflect Kim's and my ability to stereotype people in an instant.)
Begin head scratching, requests for tow ropes and lots of 'helpful' advice. None of us has a tow rope. Boo!
A third vehicle stops, just below Kim and i, out comes The Silver Fox, and Bar Mitzvah Boy, with their little dog Shadow.
More head scratching.
Oblivious Dad, various small children, Crusty Grandpa
Two more vehicles pull up from below. Families pour out, complete with Wandering Grandpa, Frustrated Daughter-in-Law, Small Crying Children and Oblivious Dad.
The men and Kim cluster around the truck, giving advice, while the rest of us make stupid jokes and slap at the biting black flies.
I finally think to get my camera out. First intelligent thing i've done since stopping.
Attempts are made to rock Stuck Truck out of its rut. Gravel is fetched. Tree branches are laid down. Shovels are employed. All to no avail.
Wandering Grandpa wanders off and has to be pulled out of the road by Kim.
More cars pull up below. Groups issue from each car, including Crusty Grandpa and more small children. Some one has a chain, but no hooks. Oblivious Dad tries to TIE one end of the chain to Stuck Truck. I tuck a small child under each arm and move way far away as i know a tied chain will not hold and flying chains can be fatal.
British Guy, Silver Fox and Boring Man
Frustrated Daughter-in-Law, Silver Fox, Bar Mitzvah Boy, British Guy, Wandering Grandpa and Mortified Ranger Girl.
Frustrated Daughter-in-Law, Oblivious Dad, British Guy, Mortified Ranger Girl and Kim.
This flower is a Fringed Grass of Parnassus.
I'm using the wet bandanna under the hat trick. I don't look stupid do i?
Kim, rolling in the snow like a frisky husky dog. Did i mention it was hot?
It was all worth it.
It's hot enough here that i have retreated outside to a lawn chair in the shade. I know other places are hotter, but most people here do not have air conditioning, so 100 degrees F is pretty F-ing hot.
I don't spend much time sitting outside in our yard. I realize that this is sad because as i sit here, quietly reading, the wildlife that i normally miss because i am blundering around carrying a hose or a shovel, has forgotten i am here.
A bunny hopped right by me, about a foot from my chair. (Good thing my cat is too hot too move, as he likes bunnies.) Normally i squeal when i see a bunny, but this time i managed to just watch him hopple by, nipping at the grass as he went.
Off to my left, several birds are cooling off by splashing in the creek.
The douglas firs have a whole tiny forest growing on their trunks.
An opportunistic bit of grass and a baby maple tree are the first signs of a tree trunk reverting to soil.
In the lawn, an bright orange bug sits on a white mushroom.
Went hiking last Friday with my friend. It was beastly hot that day. (Stop snickering, it was over 90 degrees F! So it was too hot.)
At the terminus of the hike, this is what we found:
Mmmmm. That water sure looks cool and refreshing.
We looked left:
We looked right:
No one in sight.
Hmmm. What to do, what to do?
I'm sure you would have made the same decision we did.
(As an aside, the most common way for google searchers to get to my blog is something like "family sk*nny dip" or "sk*nny dip blog" all because of a post i wrote over two years ago about a hot summer night at our house. Weird.)
It was observed by a clever friend (also the parent of teenagers) that teenagers often add a silent "dumbass" to the end of their sentences. The "dumbass" is communicated by tone rather than the actual word, as they can deny tone.
Examples: (use your inner snotty teenager tone for the second sentence in each example.)
"Have you seen the cat?"
"No? Why would i? dumbass!"
"Do you have work today?"
"I already told you my schedule, dumbass!"
"I like that new song by Linkin Park. Can you tell me the name of it?"
"They have lots of new songs, dumbass!"
The Mister and i have taken to voicing the silent dumbass after many of Em's sentences. It makes us laugh, and occasionally makes her laugh too. But mostly it pisses her off.
I count that as a double win!
Do try this at home. It's lots of fun!
Lies.
Lying liars.
People who lie. A person who lied.
Right to my face.
I am many things. Not all, in fact not many of them, nice. But i am not a liar.
(Okay, i will lie about those pants and your butt.)
I will not lie about where i am going and with whom.
I will not compound the first lie by telling background lies to cover up the original lie.
And when i am caught, i will not try to lie my way out of it.
I hate being lied to.
I am now looking back at all the things you told me, and wondering what else you are lying about.
I hope it was worth it.
Right now i hate you.
I bet everyone has had this happen. You are chatting with someone about whatever the hell and the other person inserts a comment that leaves you sputtering to justify yourself or without anywhere to go, conversationally speaking.
Some examples:
Me: "Hey did you see what happened on American Idol last night?"
Conversation Killer: "I would never watch reality TV."
Me: "Ah..."
Me: "Hey, have you ever eaten at *local steak house*?
Conversation Murderer: "I don't eat animal products."
Me: "Okaaaay."
Me: "Fred Meyer is having a sale on store brand diapers!!"
Conversation Snuffer: "I would never let my child wear disposable diapers."
Me: "Ummm."
And so on... You get the idea.
For a long time i didn't watch TV. Not because i was too cheap to pay for the cable (really!), but because i am vastly morally superior to you. People at work would often be conversing about whatever TV show was in at the moment. I learned to say "I don't watch that show. Tell me what happened," rather than "I don't watch TV," because that made me sound like an ass and left them with no where to go.
So i am trying to come up with a response to conversation killers that is as effective and non-snarky as my response to useless ranters.
My first thought was (as my dad likes to say) "Well, SMELL you!" But that doesn't pass the non-snark test.
Maybe the best thing is to just let the conversation die right there, and sit there looking at them.
Got any ideas? Snarky answers accepted and appreciated, as always, but i AM looking for a real idea too.
Today:
This morning i found an unexpected $45 in the pocket of my shorts. SCORE! Funny how such a little thing can give me such a lift. It's my money in the first place, i just forgot i had it when it disappeared last fall. That makes it a bonus.
I was eating a sandwich when someone came up to me and asked me what kind it was. I told them, and the response was "Ewwwww." What the hell is it with people saying "Ewwww" over my food? I mean, what's wrong with cat food and peanut butter anyway? (Kidding. It was hummus and pastrami.)
I am always amused when people feel compelled to voice an opinion over something that has nothing to do with them. Next time i will say "It's cat food and Velveeta! Want a bite?"
Two cool cats.At my mother's 80th birthday shindig last month, one of my brothers gave her a gift certificate to use to create a video montage of her life. We were told that we would all be interviewed for the video, and that we could tell our beautiful memories involving mom.
"Oh shit!" i thought. "I'm fucked. How on earth will i be able to pony up beautiful memories?"
In my usual fashion, i put it out of my mind, as denial is my favorite state.
But last week, as i was cleaning my hairbrush, it came to me. Some happy memories involving mom. Oddly enough, they both involve birds too.
As a girl, i mostly maintained long hair, so my hairbrush needed to be depilated frequently. I always made a point to take the wad of hair outside to fly away in the breeze because Mom had told me the birds would use it to make their nests. The thought of baby birds peeping in a cozy nest insulated by my hair charmed me. I always pictured those baby birds as my hair was drifting away.
I had a bad accident as a child, and had to spend two weeks in a hospital. When i returned home, i spent quite a while recuperating in my bed. At the urging of my mother, my father installed a flat platform outside my second story bedroom window, where it could be seen from my bed. He nailed a shallow aluminum tray to the platform and filled it with bird seed. I spent many hours watching and being amused by the antics of the local bird population.
I'm ready when the video people come!
You know what i hate? I hate it when someone sets his alarm for....say....7 am, and then doesn't get out of bed until 8:30 am almost EVERY MORNING.
Why do i hate this? Because it so happens that i am sleeping at 7 am, and the alarm wakes me up.
I wouldn't mind if that person actually GOT UP at 7 am, but when he doesn't, it makes me feel like i was awakened for no reason.
And that makes me crabby.
***********************************
I got a free book on my electronic reading device. It was a soft porn romance novel, but hey, free books are free.
In this particular novel i made it about 75 pages in before i read this line;
"She inhaled his manly aroma and her stomach began to quiver."
That's when my stomach began to quiver too. After i stopped laughing, i deleted the book.
How could anyone read a line like that without laughing? I think we should start collecting the worst lines ever written. Got any more entries?
I got a promotion!
Yeah, it's true that i don't have a job, but i do volunteer at a non-profit agency. I've been asked to step up and take over the Volunteer Coordinator position. So i will be the Volunteer Volunteer Coordinator. It will involve learning a few new things, and will take up about 6 to 8 hours a week.
That's what they told me. I know better because i know how any job will expand to fill the time available (just like the crap in my house expands to fill the space available,) but i said yes anyway. I think i was flattered that i am viewed as one of the more competent volunteers.
We'll call most of the other volunteers..... pre-computer age women. I think that's a nice way to put it, don't you? Anyway, something as simple as filling in hours in an Excel spreadsheet is beyond them. I know this because i tried mightily to train a few of them. It was scary. They would write down every step, say they got it, and next week i'd have to show them again.
This opportunity appeared just when i was looking for something to take up some of my time. Funny how that happens.
I'm going to get paid TWICE what i make now. You do the math.
Home from Chicago. A great city. But the highlight of the visit was the morning walks along the lake with my friend. I miss having a walking buddy who lives in town. I miss my friend.
In other news, EM GOT A JOB!
When the plane touched down last night, i turned on my phone to let Em know we had landed. She texted back with "Yippee, and btw, i got a job."
I gasped "Oh my god!" as the plane was still taxiing and then had to explain myself to fellow passengers, who were looking at me in some consternation.
It's at a national toy store with a backwards letter in its name. She filled out an online job application, from which i expected exactly nothing to occur.
But i was wrong. She got called back for a second interview and then heard back that night that it was a go. She starts on Monday.
The reasons i am so happy she got a job:
Tomorrow morning at o'fuck thirty The Mister and i are leaving for Chicago.
(Dammit, there's a bug in my wine! Oh well, no better way to die than in a glass of wine.)
Anyway, i love Chicago. I have only fond memories of the last time i was in Chicago, where i sort of attended Blogher and roomed with two of my favorite bloggers. (No linking as one of them has gone underground. You know who you are.)
We will be meeting up with two of my favorite people (not bloggers) and spending 5 days roaming around and avoiding the police. YES!
We are leaving our child at home alone, so if any of you attend a kegger that she holds, please try not to spill wine on the carpet or break anything.
Thanks.
The Mister and i recently made a decision that could have a huge impact on our marriage. Something with implications that have left me uneasy and unable to sleep well for the past two nights.
It was initiated by The Mister saying he was unhappy and in pain given our current situation.
So i said okay, i'd give it a try if that's what will make him happy.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
We traded sides of the bed.
Sounds silly right? It is silly, but we have been sleeping on the same side of the bed for nigh on to 15 years and it feels so weird to be on the "wrong" side.
We both had trouble sleeping the first night. I am so used to reaching out and flipping on my little bedside radio to my right, that to find it on my left is disorienting.
The Mister has a rotator cuff injury on his right shoulder, and he wanted this change so that he could be facing me in bed without pain. Seemed like a reasonable request, so....on Monday, along with changing the sheets, i switched the drawers of our nightstands. My trashy novels, his porn mags, my radio, his kleenex, my crossword puzzle books, his history novels, my various charging devices, his various charging devices. Man, we have a lot of crap.
This feels like a big change. I find myself amused by my rigidity.
On Saturday, a day that dawned glorious and sunny, i took a class with a friend wherein we learned to identify edible wild plants.
Evidence of glorious day.
The class was taught by a very earnest and knowledgeable couple.
Evidence of earnest couple. This is how we dress for everything in the Northwest, from foraging to the opera.
We started on the lawn. To my surprise, much of the local flora is not only edible but tasty. One of the most common plants in this area is called Nipplewort. Upon learning this, i took a personal vow to find a way to work the word 'Nipplewort' into my conversation as often as possible.
This is the salad the instructors provided for our lunch. It contains Mallow, Sheeps Quarters, Chive blossoms, Black Lotus flowers and of course, Nipplewort.
Veins on the back of a Cottonwood Tree leaf, also known as Balsam Poplar. These are the trees that make it look like it is snowing around here right now. No reason to ahow you this picture, i just thought it was pretty.
This plant is not edible, as implied by the name. Picture is out of focus because my arms, for once, were not long enough.
We had a wonderful time, and the class was greatly enhanced by the food that was passed out along the way, the most surprising of which was nettle dip. Doesn't that sound appetizing?
Nipplewort out.
Look, i CAN take a cheery picture!
Enough skulking around in the clouds, time to rejoin the world.
The fog is lifting and my fears are easing. Being an introvert, i cannot write when i am worried. Worrying is a full time job you know.
Whining to the interwebs is a mixed bag.
For one thing, it's stupid and self-indulgent. The truth is, i really have nothing to whine about. And i always feel ashamed after i do it.
But the other thing, it's really sweet to receive your understanding and gentle comments and e-mails, letting me know that you get it, and you've been there.
Made it through my mother's birthday party. I am a bit chagrined to report that it was fun. My family is actually pretty cool. I just avoid talking to my mother as much as possible, and it all works out fine. Everyone was happy and chatty, plus the grandkids (my nieces and nephews) are such a pleasure. They are growing up.
My aunt was there, the one who is SO DIFFERENT from my mother. To her, everything is WONDERFUL and BEAUTIFUL and THE BEST EVER. It's not an attitude i can sustain, but every few years i can handle it. Plus we get to make gentle fun of her later.
The Mister took a bunch of really nice pictures at the event, which made all the old folks happy, once they figured out how to use the link we sent out in e-mail.
I am not the most mentally healthy person in the world, but neither am i the least. Nonetheless, there are times when i swear, if i were able to do so, that i would push a button and just vanish.
I am currently in a very familiar mental place. It is not a place i like. It is a place of fear and insecurity. I used to think that when i grew up, this wouldn't happen to me any more, because i would be all grown up and secure. But i begin to think otherwise, which makes me feel even more hopeless. Which doesn't help.
This is the definition of a positive feedback cycle.
**************************************
Right now i am sitting at the reception desk for my volunteer thing. It is a place that does counseling for kids. Waiting in the lobby are a mother and daughter both seething with resentment. This mother had called earlier saying that she couldn't find her daughter and thus didn't know if she would be able to keep the appointment.
Then they arrived over an hour early and are sitting in stony silence, occasionally broken by one of them hissing something angry at the other. The other clients are studiously avoiding eye contact.
It's sad, really.
**************************************
Today is my mother's eightieth birthday. There is an event tonight that i will be attending. I have known about the event for months, but my subconscious has been playing tricks on me all week and been trying to get me to schedule something else for tonight.
Subconscious: Hey, wouldn't Thursday be a great night to go see the Star Trek movie?
Me: Oh hey! Great idea subconscious! Oh......wait.
a few days later;
Subconscious: You know, Thursday would be a great night to go out to dinner at that Italian place. You haven't been there in months and you deserve it.
Me: Oh yeah! I could really go for some of that creamy tomato pasta they make. Oh....wait. *sigh*
I do this volunteer thing, a few times a week. It's fun, and it keeps me out of the bingo halls.
I've been doing it for about three years now so i know most of the employees. Many of them like to talk to me. They talk to me about each other. Much of it is complaining. I almost always understand what they are complaining about, and i might even agree with them. I listen and i nod and i tell them that i get it, but that, actually, i like so-and-so.
I am free to like more people because i don't have to work with them. Things that would absolutely drive me bananas (disorganization, lack of follow-through, tardiness, incessant pen clicking, baby talking to boyfriends over the phone, inflexibility, etc.) are not my problem anymore.
When i worked i was more judgmental, i suppose because i had to be to get shit done.
I don't have to do projects anymore with incompetent, lazy or just plain clueless people. I am just free to enjoy the people, and then go home.
It rocks.
Em discovers the perfect food. (Gratuitous photo.)
Guess WHAT??
I have lost 6 pounds in the last three days!
Yep, thanks to the stomach flu, which is a lot like the prep for a colonoscopy, except with vomiting thrown in for added fun. Wheee!
The whole family is down, first me, then Em, now The Mister. Em, because of her extreme youth, is all better. I am much better, and The Mister is on the downslide. Poor man.
The flu experience reminded me of something that happened in the Chicago airport last week. I was positioned before a food purveyor, perusing the possibilities, when some woman says, "Excuse me, i was here first! You skinny people think you are so much better than the rest of us."
I looked around, blinking, to see to whom this hostility was directed. It was me. (Or was it i?)
"Oh," i say, flustered, "i'm sorry. I was just looking, please go ahead."
I think she might have been chagrined to realize that i had not cut her off, that i was just pondering, but no apology was forthcoming.
And while i might occasionally think i am better than some people, i do not think i am better than everyone.
Whenever people tell me what i think, i know that they are really telling me what they think. I'm sorry she feels so badly about herself.
I been a'travelin'.
The Mister went off to India. Then i went off to Cannon Beach, Oregon, with a girlfriend for a few days.
I got home Monday. The Mister got home Tuesday. I left Wednesday for Ohio, to help Em move home for the summer. (Egads! My little tiny bald newborn baby girl just finished her first year of college!)
We fly home tomorrow.
It will take a few days for my soul to catch up with me.
I think i'll amuse myself now by drawing stylized genitalia in the Gideons Bible.
There's something in me that cannot give up trying to take care of people. Trying to herd him into doing what i think he needs to do to take care of himself.
Dropping little hints about resting and taking it easy when i see the exhaustion and illness in his eyes.
You know that old saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Yeah. That would make me an insane person.
You cannot make someone take care of himself if he doesn't want to.
Tonight i am going to remain quiet. I will not be sending that text message suggesting that it might be okay to make an early night of it. I will not be making that phone call offering chicken soup (figuratively) and suggesting ibuprofen (literally) that might help take away the pain.
I think i'm being helpful, but that doesn't make it true.
It's really an arrogance in me thinking that i can offer help. It hasn't worked for....many years. So that means it's not going to work.
So give it up already.
I got all hippie and back-to- the-earth and nature girlish, and decided to gather some wild nettles and make soup.
I learned a few things along the way.
After making a huge mess in in the kitchen, (because i always make a huge mess when there is a blender involved, because there are always unfortunate blender events, which is why i drink my margaritas on the rocks and thank god my kitchen is already green,) soup was achieved.
Well, it is pretty. In a super-foods-i'm-eating-algae sort of way.
Today in the kitchen i look up from my work in the sink and see a single red tulip that i have placed into a glass because the stem broke and it would no longer fit into the vase with the others.
It captures me. I go back in time forty years.
I am 10 years old. We are living in Virginia and it is a glorious spring day, one of the first of the year. I am out in the yard, lying on my back beneath our flowering crab apple tree with my right arm extended up into the air. I am hoping that if i lie still long enough, one of the chickadees peeping around in the tree will come and land on my finger. I read about a girl in one of my books who did this. That the book was fiction does not deter me.
After a few minutes, bored and birdless, i turn my head to the right and see the most beautiful and unusual red flower i have ever seen. It's huge and its red petals are spread completely open in the bright spring sun.
I leap up, scattering the chickadees from the tree and run into the house to find someone to share my flower with.
My father, responding to my excitement, comes out and looks at the flower and agrees that yes, it is the most beautiful red flower he has ever seen. He goes inside to get his camera and comes back outside with his camera and tripod. While i cavort around him doing a spring dance for the flower, he takes a picture of it.
I run back inside and get my mother, so that she can see the world's most beautiful red flower too.
When she sees it she says "Oh for god's sake Bill, it's just a tulip," and goes back inside.
Deflated and sheepish we move on to doing something else.
For years, that slide was a family joke. The time my dad took a picture of "just a tulip."
I go back to the sink.
Because Clematis kind of sounds like clitoris.
LOOKIT WHAT I MADE!!
It's my first quilt.
Just the binding at the edges to add. Wheeeeeee!
Here's one of the squares, a cat face. We like cats around here.
And one of Em's favorite book series growing up:
And it's less than a year behind schedule. Better than many a government project.
I think i'm cool, can you tell?
There is a simple yet real pleasure in making something with my own two hands. It would have been much easier and faster to buy a quilt, but there would be no feeling of accomplishment. Plus the pleasure of making something for someone i love, and who will appreciate it, hopefully for a long time.
Thanks for letting me brag.
Em gave me The Year of Living Bibically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs for Christmas.
I liked it pretty well, as in, i actually finished it. It's a pretty affectionate look at some of the silly laws in the Bible.
But i am not here to give you a book review.
Here is a quote from the book;
It's why i don't know what to do with Jasper. If i give him some religion, then he might become obsessed and go Guru Gil on me. Then again, if i give him no religion, he could descend into moral anarchy. They're both so risky. I feel like i can't win.
Jasper is the author's 2 year-old son. Guru Gil is a religious fanatic.
So, the the obvious end result of no religion is moral anarchy. Nice dude, really nice. I can't wait to tell my child that she's a moral anarchist.
The really annoying part of the quote is that it's pretty casually tossed out, like everyone KNOWS that those of us without religion are amoral, serial-killing, dog-raping, baby-hating, 401k-embezzling, wife-swapping, 7/11-robbing, public-spitting scofflaws.
I am really sick of this attitude. If i am an atheist, i must have no morals. It's just a fact. I guess i need to accept it.
Gotta go. I'm off to steal the neighbor's newspaper and kick the cat.
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Under the heading, Jumping on the Bandwagon of Causing Trouble,
Check this out; Amazon Rank
Apparently Amazon has decided to de-rank any books, etc. with gay adult content. Read a more coherent explanation here.
*Brrring, brrrring*
'Lo?
Hi blog, it's me, meno. Fuck i'm in a bad mood and tired.
And we care about this why?
Because i'm just going to phone this post in.
But...where are you calling from? Any why are you bothering?
I'm not sure where i am. All i know is it's really fucking hot, there are bonfires everywhere, people screaming in agony and no water anywhere. There are even some dudes up to their necks in boiling blood. Oh, and because my public demands it.
Really? Sounds hellish.
I know! And i forgot my chapstick.
GASP! NOT.....the CHAPSTICK!
I.....i'm not sure if i'll make it. My lips are flaking already.
I don't think i've ever seen you without a chapstick, and a cookie.
NO COOKIES! *whimper*
It really must be hell. Well then, call us if you need anything. Ta ta.
but...
*click*
This weekend i went to The Edible Book Festival. I took some pictures for you all too.
It's a cake! With a wrinkle!
"Where The Mild Things Are:"
Jello, Wonder Bread and American Cheese!
"Watchmen."
Not sure why the tiny hamburgers, but loved the ketchup splot.
"The Very Hungry Caterpillar:"
This is Curd Vonnegut:
Pretty damned awesome. The portrait is made with cocoa powder. Some people are SO clever.
"The Velveeta Rabbit":
I don't want to eat it, but major points for the cuteness.
The "Bread Badge of Courage", by Steven Craneberry:
This is a book i have not heard of, "Swimming Against the Current;"
And lookit here, it's "Goodnight Moon Pie."
Keep in mind that the whole thing has to be edible.
And after a while, we did eat them, although i mostly stuck to the cakes.
***************************************
I know this is about escape, and i wonder if the real result would be a feeling of relief or loneliness. Thinking about getting in the car and heading South or East. No reason, just driving. Away. No luggage, just baggage. A roll of $20 bills, a bag of apples and some sharp cheddar. A pocket knife for picnics and a pillow for naps.
No plans, just the misty future.
Nothing bad is going on, but i've thought about this for years. It just seems so free. Probably something that should remain in the fantasy realm.
It's not like this is a revelation or anything, but people can be really weird.
Some recent examples from my phone answering stint at the local public radio station during a pledge drive:
1) A man called me and the first thing he did was ask my name. I was trying to be nice, you know, so he would donate money, so i gave him my first name, which he proceeded to use frequently during his ensuing rant about public radio. He refused to believe that i had not been required to donate money for the privilege of answering the phones. He complained that members should be given priority when calling the talk shows to give opinions. And so on. I finally hung up on him after telling him that i was there to take donations, not listen to tirades.
2) A woman who was coming in later that day for her first shift ever called to ask what the dress code was for phone volunteers. Prom dresses or tuxes, natch!
3) A man who was coming in later that day to answer phones called to make sure there would be enough food left for him to eat lunch. We then tried to eat it all before he got there but we failed.
4) One woman called to complain about the show that was currently on the air not being 'inclusive' enough. I gave her the main number.
5) Another volunteer took a call from a man who said he would donate money, but only if someone would come and jump start his car, right now. As if!
I guess repeatedly giving out a phone number over the air invites people to let their freak flag fly.
I have a habit that i've been trying to break, a habit that The Mister shares.
In the past, i've tried, half-heartedly, to break this habit. I've blamed my lack of success on the fact that The Mister continues the habit. So it was all his fault, as you can plainly see.
Frustrated, i decided to change my approach, because it appears to be more important to me to change.
What would happen if i was responsible for my own self, and did what i need to do without regard to The Mister? (There's a concept, personal responsibility!)
Maybe i could lead in this. Maybe that would be an inspiration to The Mister. Maybe not, but my fate should be in my hands, right? (Downside: upon whom would i blame my failure with this approach?)
So i decided to change.
It seems to be working. He seems to be following.
Wow.
