chalkduster
i found it in a list of fonts
something sounding brushed away
lifted into the air of a room cast in afternoon sun
the time of day that illuminates the imperfect
the chalkduster sits in a corner of the school
waiting for lucky children
the chalkduster hides - sage and cream
and promises to only breath in
-rlbarnes 12/1/2012
Saturday, December 01, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
days that make up months that make up years
Thursday morning I left our island abode to meet with attorneys on a loan closing to finally refinance my Newnan home--a sugar-coated thorn in my side that I have determined must be part of my penance for something I did in a former life, or must learn about in this one....and for the record, it has taught me a lot. And for the record, I'm better for it. So I do not dislike the little house.
But what I had thought would be a series of small, unpleasant obligatory maneuvers sandwiched between two long 5 hour drives has turned out to be a much better little story. Today I'm still on the west side of the state, and it was warm enough that I had breakfast with my parents on their porch. And having just torn myself away from reading by the pool for what I suspect may have been more than a few hours, judging by the way the sun has moved, I felt compelled to make a contribution here.
As soon as mother caught wind I was going to be a crows flight away, I was informed of and invited to a champagne tasting at The River Club where my parents are frequent flyers, along with several of their closest friends--this is and was something I'm unable to decline. After learning a bit about five of the best French champagnes (and having most of that information bubbled away into effervescent faerie land), we had dinner and headed back to the big house where Mom immediately abandoned us for the comforts of bed. Alone in the living room and left to our own devices, Wayne and I debated on the best way to bring a nice evening to a respectable close, and decided the most fitting avenue was to have a glass of good whiskey. I added, "beside the fire" but Wayne refused to light even the smallest little fire--for a while, that is, because he was eventually convinced (by only a little daughterly whining) to throw a match and lighter fluid on a 'starter log' that I suppose he determined would entertain me for a sufficient amount of time without burdening himself with the "major responsibilities of having a real fire." I, being a very agreeable and realistic person, was perfectly satisfied with that.
Friday morning (early) Mother rode with me to meet the termite inspector at the aforementioned home of mine. While we were talking in the yard with Jared, my beloved (really) neighbor Parks, came over to see what all the activity was about. He also took a card from Jared that he hoped would result in some sort of attention that would compel his wife Judy to stop her fussing about a roach she saw in their bathroom the night before. Eventually the other two neighbors also ventured out of their homes to investigate as only proper southern folk can do--by pretending to have some particular chore that requires their being at least within earshot--Steve who was walking his annoying white lap dog and Mr. Rice who swore he was moving away years ago, had something that needed retreiving from the car--both very kind men who headed the trifecta of retired couples flanking and facing my Sixth Street bungalow and who, for the years I was there, seemed to make my family feel a lot better about their daughter/granddaughter/neice/sister/cousin being in a house by herself with no man to protect her. The one time Rob visited me at that house, Parks (unsolicited) unloaded every piece of lawn equipment he had in his shed so Rob could mold my yard into something more presentable for a young lady such as myself. This delighted my parents (and the other neighbors).
Moving along. Mom and I had breakfast in Panera--and there I had such a compelling feeling that I need to just get it out. I realized then, that there is something about coffee shops that makes it difficult for me to visit them with others without feeling strange, uncomfortable and very out of place. I am fine alone or standing in line with someone, but no-sit down and not with company. There, that's said.
Last night I cooked dinner for my parents. Carnitas. It was surprisingly a much more daunting task than it normally is when I'm doing them at home--but they were very nice and encouraging about how good the food was. Considering it was finally ready around 9pm I'm sure at least half of those compliments were directly influenced by near-starvation of eating dinner about 3 hours later than usual. Oops. While I was fussing over the fattiest pork shoulder I've ever seen, Wayne turned the television channel to something other than whatever follows Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. He stopped on something that sounded loud..just loud...and I heard this, Wayne begins, followed by mother:
"what in the hell is this supposed to be"
"well push that information button and see"
"uhhh....Trans formers....huh. I think that's one of those young people shows"
"yea"
"might be good though"
"mm hmm"
(pause)
"we'll just leave it here and see if it's decent, then we can change it"
"sounds good"
We ate carnitas and watched Transformers until Wayne decided he was going to bed because clearly Bumble Bee had been killed and there was nothing more to see as he was not one bit happy about Bumble Bee being hurt and killed. I begrudgingly assured him that the autobot Bumble Bee wasn't dead but Wayne was skeptical until I assured him the same character is alive and well in another Transformer movie I'd seen. After the movie did end Wayne retired and mom and I stayed up flipping between watching haunted house stories and V for Vendetta.
I love my parents.
Then I went to bed and dreamt about being at the beach with my sweet new spousal unit. No surprise I didn't want to get up early today.
And here I am, about to wrap up my final day in southwest Georgia. I nearly finished the novel I brought with me to read--that's probably why I wanted to plug something onto this lonely page. And while reading I remembered a comment Rob made to me the other night about how he expects I should write a book someday. That's the kind of compliment that makes me smile and feel completely unworthy at the same time. I picture us in 10 years, having maybe published two books....and needing to have a room in the house dedicated to all the copies no one ever wanted. Sigh. Damn old fear of rejection is such a buggar.
I think that's about all I had to say. There was a lot swarming around my head the last few days so I feel better now having at least done something, even if most of the swarmers have tunneled off into the far cobwebs of my mind, at least until a time when I won't be able to write them down.
The sun has gone behind the trees and I notice it's time for me to start dinner. I have to redeem myself this evening on that, so off I go.
But what I had thought would be a series of small, unpleasant obligatory maneuvers sandwiched between two long 5 hour drives has turned out to be a much better little story. Today I'm still on the west side of the state, and it was warm enough that I had breakfast with my parents on their porch. And having just torn myself away from reading by the pool for what I suspect may have been more than a few hours, judging by the way the sun has moved, I felt compelled to make a contribution here.
As soon as mother caught wind I was going to be a crows flight away, I was informed of and invited to a champagne tasting at The River Club where my parents are frequent flyers, along with several of their closest friends--this is and was something I'm unable to decline. After learning a bit about five of the best French champagnes (and having most of that information bubbled away into effervescent faerie land), we had dinner and headed back to the big house where Mom immediately abandoned us for the comforts of bed. Alone in the living room and left to our own devices, Wayne and I debated on the best way to bring a nice evening to a respectable close, and decided the most fitting avenue was to have a glass of good whiskey. I added, "beside the fire" but Wayne refused to light even the smallest little fire--for a while, that is, because he was eventually convinced (by only a little daughterly whining) to throw a match and lighter fluid on a 'starter log' that I suppose he determined would entertain me for a sufficient amount of time without burdening himself with the "major responsibilities of having a real fire." I, being a very agreeable and realistic person, was perfectly satisfied with that.
Friday morning (early) Mother rode with me to meet the termite inspector at the aforementioned home of mine. While we were talking in the yard with Jared, my beloved (really) neighbor Parks, came over to see what all the activity was about. He also took a card from Jared that he hoped would result in some sort of attention that would compel his wife Judy to stop her fussing about a roach she saw in their bathroom the night before. Eventually the other two neighbors also ventured out of their homes to investigate as only proper southern folk can do--by pretending to have some particular chore that requires their being at least within earshot--Steve who was walking his annoying white lap dog and Mr. Rice who swore he was moving away years ago, had something that needed retreiving from the car--both very kind men who headed the trifecta of retired couples flanking and facing my Sixth Street bungalow and who, for the years I was there, seemed to make my family feel a lot better about their daughter/granddaughter/neice/sister/cousin being in a house by herself with no man to protect her. The one time Rob visited me at that house, Parks (unsolicited) unloaded every piece of lawn equipment he had in his shed so Rob could mold my yard into something more presentable for a young lady such as myself. This delighted my parents (and the other neighbors).
Moving along. Mom and I had breakfast in Panera--and there I had such a compelling feeling that I need to just get it out. I realized then, that there is something about coffee shops that makes it difficult for me to visit them with others without feeling strange, uncomfortable and very out of place. I am fine alone or standing in line with someone, but no-sit down and not with company. There, that's said.
Last night I cooked dinner for my parents. Carnitas. It was surprisingly a much more daunting task than it normally is when I'm doing them at home--but they were very nice and encouraging about how good the food was. Considering it was finally ready around 9pm I'm sure at least half of those compliments were directly influenced by near-starvation of eating dinner about 3 hours later than usual. Oops. While I was fussing over the fattiest pork shoulder I've ever seen, Wayne turned the television channel to something other than whatever follows Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. He stopped on something that sounded loud..just loud...and I heard this, Wayne begins, followed by mother:
"what in the hell is this supposed to be"
"well push that information button and see"
"uhhh....Trans formers....huh. I think that's one of those young people shows"
"yea"
"might be good though"
"mm hmm"
(pause)
"we'll just leave it here and see if it's decent, then we can change it"
"sounds good"
We ate carnitas and watched Transformers until Wayne decided he was going to bed because clearly Bumble Bee had been killed and there was nothing more to see as he was not one bit happy about Bumble Bee being hurt and killed. I begrudgingly assured him that the autobot Bumble Bee wasn't dead but Wayne was skeptical until I assured him the same character is alive and well in another Transformer movie I'd seen. After the movie did end Wayne retired and mom and I stayed up flipping between watching haunted house stories and V for Vendetta.
I love my parents.
Then I went to bed and dreamt about being at the beach with my sweet new spousal unit. No surprise I didn't want to get up early today.
And here I am, about to wrap up my final day in southwest Georgia. I nearly finished the novel I brought with me to read--that's probably why I wanted to plug something onto this lonely page. And while reading I remembered a comment Rob made to me the other night about how he expects I should write a book someday. That's the kind of compliment that makes me smile and feel completely unworthy at the same time. I picture us in 10 years, having maybe published two books....and needing to have a room in the house dedicated to all the copies no one ever wanted. Sigh. Damn old fear of rejection is such a buggar.
I think that's about all I had to say. There was a lot swarming around my head the last few days so I feel better now having at least done something, even if most of the swarmers have tunneled off into the far cobwebs of my mind, at least until a time when I won't be able to write them down.
The sun has gone behind the trees and I notice it's time for me to start dinner. I have to redeem myself this evening on that, so off I go.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Hello, Fall...
Happy first day of fall--my favorite season (spring being second)
There is something refreshing about the seasons that take us out of the extremes of summers heat or winters cold (though they too have endearing qualities).
Yesterday evening Rob and I drove out to the beach around 7. The sun is setting earlier now and has been sending the horizon into swirls of brilliant pink, crimson, orange and deep, bruised purple. I've been noticing it all month and I know that once in the winter deeps I will grumble about how the lack of sun makes it harder to feel happy. For now it's worth the slightly cooler temperatures that seem to have only been momentarily allowed through -- out of some holy respect like a parting of the seas. Seas that will close again and leave us with more heat for a while, "it's gotta warm up for Thanksgiving!" is something I've only ever heard living in south Georgia.
The stars were finally visible around 8:30 and we took a few minutes to sit there while the last of the people, which were then just dark silhouettes, trickled away. The two little girls looking for their black dog had finally found him. The guy who had been entertaining everyone by flying up and down the beach with his wind cart finally pulled the parachute back to earth, and after while, we too packed up our beach towel and little igloo and headed toward the path to the car. While Rob was folding up the towel I yelled out toward the water "we live here" -- something I like to do to make sure the universe knows we know this is a special place, even though we long for the mountains like kids at Christmas. And we trudged through the sand discussing the new baby dunes that seem to have emerged over-night.
last but not least, since I've mentioned the mountains, and since this is a fall welcoming post, our honeymoon has officially been booked--spending a week enjoying the views and trails and village towns of the Adirondack Mountains. I believe it will be a most wonderful way to relax after a years worth of this crazy hell called planning a wedding---we also are determined to make and have much more fun on that day than the crazy hell it's taken to get there....and that will be happening in, oh 28 days!!!! weeeeeeeeeee (insert crazed expression here)
tootles
Friday, September 21, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
ode to onychoschizia
i've left you alone for a while now
surprised at how much you could take
but today things were different
and i knew
i could tell
something was bound to break
-
Monday, August 27, 2012
a case of neato bandito
It never fails that things I want to write about always come to me when I am the most unable to write about them. The drive home from my parents house yesterday afternoon was no different. But I still plan to write what I started thinking about writing.
But this is one of those things that needs more time than the occasional draft of a poem or whatnot, so today I've been delving into the wonderful world of Wikipedia for a little more understanding of what it is my brain is trying to think up....sometimes I FEEL information that seem very real and retrievable, but my brain can't interpret them as anything other than random ideas of the unconscious....that's my hypothesis for now, at least. BUT, in my digging about on wiki today I came across something that made my day!....DOCUMENTED SCIENTIFIC TERMINOLOGY for something I dreamt about a while back. Something that I thought was just fantasy creation in my dream world--and it was a dream I blogged about. That is so dang COOL [to me] I can't even begin to describe my glee.
Anyway, here is the blog (the part in reference is the ocean I swam in)
Sci-Fi Dream
And HERE is what I accidentally came upon on Wikipedia. I've included an excerpt below:
In astronomy and cosmology, dark fluid is an alternative theory to both dark matter and dark energy and attempts to explain both phenomena in a single framework...
In the traditional approach to modeling effects of gravity, general relativity is assumed to be valid at cosmological scales as well as in the solar system where its predictions have been more accurately tested. Not changing the rules of gravity, however, implies the presence of dark matter and dark energy in parts of the universe where the curvature of the space-time manifold is far less than that of in the solar system. It is phenomenologically possible to alter the equations of gravity in regions of low space-time curvature such that the dynamics of the space-time causes what we assign to the presence of dark matter and dark energy.[2] Dark fluid even goes one step beyond the standpoint of the generally covariant modified theories of gravity. It hypothesizes that the fabric of space acts much like a fluid. So dark fluid currently provides a general and powerful model for altering the dynamics of the space-time manifold. In this theory, space would flow, coagulate, compress, or expand just like any other fluid..."
If my father were alive I probably would have known about this stuff before because he was completely obsessed (in a good way) with Astronomy...and was, in fact, described as a scientist. So maybe it's folded away in my mind because this kind of stuff can be passed down in genes of the psyche. Perhaps they are gifts from beyond. Regardless. This made my day. I am glad for however it arrived in my world.
(another thing that made my day is discovering I can create a "book" from Wikipedia articles I'm reading, then save it as a PDF and print it all in one go. that is really just fantastic.)
Saturday, August 25, 2012
ignorance is bliss I wish I were a bumblebee
Aerodynamically
the bumblebee should not be able to fly-
but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it goes on flying anyway-
-Mary Kay Ash
(there is no blue to swallow this)
but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it goes on flying anyway-
-Mary Kay Ash
(there is no blue to swallow this)
Monday, August 20, 2012
yogi quotes, good fortunes and other better things
Last week I stepped into the bathroom at work to fill up a flower vase and wondered to myself did I remember to ask the concierge to put in a work order for that leaky toilet? certainly don't need any deficiencies on us for careless slip hazards...
then immediately I noticed the nice new flooring that was installed a week prior--after the leaky toilet was replaced--and I had to stop and allow it to sink in.....hmmm. dang. I think I dreamt that.
So work has been getting into my dreams and my dreams have been getting into my day time thought processes. Then I worked too much last week. Pretty much 10-12 hour days all the way through until Friday when I was too exhausted to hang in there past 3:30. So when the sneezy runny nose I'd ignored turned into the am I getting a cold feeling last night, it's no surprise that woke up with a cold this morning. I despise the summer cold. I really do. Fall and winter colds are crappy, but there's just something wrong about having a runny-nosed, stuffy-headed cold in the summer time. But, my brother used to say: "you wore out your immune system, man"...so I reckon I did it to myself.
Another thing that occurred last week (could have been the week before, not sure) was a conversation I had with a co-worker about just how dang bitter we've gotten. And I feel like I've tried to be more positive, but this has been a tough year. And I've said that in years past and meant it then too. This year has just been a lot of work. It hasn't been terribly painful. I haven't had any devastating losses, but it's been a year of challenges. And I shut the blog down for a while because I'd had too much of the online world and it's an easy thing to turn your back on when there's more negativity leaching out of it than good. So I looked on here the other day and realized that my blog has turned into the posting ground of a terrible cynic. Don't get me wrong, in many ways I haven't changed much, but I'm not that grumpy all the time. It just comes out on here because for a while I've had a very negative association with all things blog-based.
I decided to change the scenery a little bit, because my life isn't bad. It's actually damn good. Seriously, I cry just about every week thinking about how much good I have in my life--my blog should reflect it a little more often.
(That's not to say that I take back any of my other posts. I maintain this attitude. All except that I've decided that I will vote this year. And I've decided who for. So that's different. But not much else)
Since I've been feeling a tad bit under the weather the last few days the last thing I want to do is cook. So we ordered chinese last night and pizza tonight. One of my favorite things about Chinese food is the spicy mustard sauce....but mostly I love the fortunes. I like consumables that come with little surprise anecdotes, which is also why I mainly only buy Yogi tea. And I have stashes of the best ones in random meaningful places. Picture frames, journals, favorite books...stuff like that. And while I'm not great at keeping up rituals, but here I'll start the latest idea of mine, by posting pictures of the good ones when they happen.
Here we go:
Here we go:
Last night's fortunes (they gave us THREE, which is one of my favorite numbers...which reminds me of another story I should blog about later)
those are pretty good fortunes to crack out of a sugar cookie if I do say so myself!
And tonight's Yogi quote. Possibly my most favorite of all Yogi quotes to date:
So there are a few positive things. Another positive thing is Rob told me this morning that I was talking in my sleep last night. And I really rarely ever talk in my sleep. When I do, he says "you were talking in your fairy talk"... because he says it sounds like something he should be able to understand, but can't. My cousin Logan talks in fairy talk. Rob does sometimes but usually I can understand everything (and frequently can get him to keep talking if I talk back). My brother also speaks clearly in his sleep. I'm not sure what determines the language you use when sleep-talking, but I sort-of like the idea of fairy talk. Those who know me, know why.
Happy Monday
Monday, April 30, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
SaveTheDate
Label Of Love Save The Date
Design photo save the dates with Shutterfly.
View the entire collection of cards.
Sunday, April 08, 2012
late night rambler
Leave the past behind, just walk away
When it's over, and the heart break
And the cracks begin to show
When it's over, and the heart break
And the cracks begin to show
Freestylers - Cracks
For the last week or so I am pretty sure I have not gone to bed before 1 or 2am. This is because since last Friday we have been moving house to condo around working hours.
So I suppose that's why tonight I am still up, finding whatever I can to read or fiddle with or peruse -- even though I am at my parents house and everyone else is in bed and snoring, as I should be
Web perusing nearly always goes to my most frequently ventured blogs and websites. And as I've stated before, I really thoroughly enjoy Letters of Note -- and rightly so as it never fails to offer me the kind of thrill that I can only think to compare with opening a special gift on your birthday--or something like that. So drifting there tonight and first seeing a portrait photo then scrolling down to read yet another lovely post of K.V., it was one of those moments. Anyway I flicked to another letter on the site -- written to George Orwell from Aldous Huxley -- and the last bit of his letter made me want to steal it for my blog as well--since the demise of humanity lingers in my mind almost daily. I could tweak his words just a bit to suit my own perspective but my own feelings are essentially the same--particularly the line I set in bold
"....But now psycho-analysis is being combined with hypnosis; and hypnosis has been made easy and indefinitely extensible through the use of barbiturates, which induce a hypnoid and suggestible state in even the most recalcitrant subjects.
Within the next generation I believe that the world's rulers will discover that infant conditioning and narco-hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of government, than clubs and prisons, and that the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging and kicking them into obedience. In other words, I feel that the nightmare of Nineteen Eighty-Four is destined to modulate into the nightmare of a world having more resemblance to that which I imagined in Brave New World. The change will be brought about as a result of a felt need for increased efficiency. Meanwhile, of course, there may be a large scale biological and atomic war — in which case we shall have nightmares of other and scarcely imaginable kinds.
Thank you once again for the book.
Yours sincerely,
Aldous Huxley"
Within the next generation I believe that the world's rulers will discover that infant conditioning and narco-hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of government, than clubs and prisons, and that the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging and kicking them into obedience. In other words, I feel that the nightmare of Nineteen Eighty-Four is destined to modulate into the nightmare of a world having more resemblance to that which I imagined in Brave New World. The change will be brought about as a result of a felt need for increased efficiency. Meanwhile, of course, there may be a large scale biological and atomic war — in which case we shall have nightmares of other and scarcely imaginable kinds.
Thank you once again for the book.
Yours sincerely,
Aldous Huxley"
________________________________
And a few suitably amusing illustrations I'd like to add
Friday, April 06, 2012
have you hugged your librarian lately?
I'll be hugging mine tomorrow!
I'm one of those people who probably references my parents and my upbringing on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day. Despite some pretty heavy obstacles, I, have always been able to say "I had a fantastic childhood" and I really mean I would trade NOTHING for the life I have had -- I have a lovely family in general, but I attribute almost all the credit to my parents, specifically my mom. I am who I am because of my mom. And I'd like to think I turned out pretty well.
I know a lot of daughters say this, but my mother is absolutely positively the most phenomenal woman I know. Personally and professionally. And that is only what I can put into words and try to keep to one sentence because I could write novels. Actually, anyone who knows my mom could say the same. She is exceptional beyond words.
Mom emailed me this link today because she said it made her day. Reading it, it made mine too, because I know it's true and too often Librarians aren't given the lime light they deserve. So here it is.
Customer Care
.
I'm one of those people who probably references my parents and my upbringing on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day. Despite some pretty heavy obstacles, I, have always been able to say "I had a fantastic childhood" and I really mean I would trade NOTHING for the life I have had -- I have a lovely family in general, but I attribute almost all the credit to my parents, specifically my mom. I am who I am because of my mom. And I'd like to think I turned out pretty well.
I know a lot of daughters say this, but my mother is absolutely positively the most phenomenal woman I know. Personally and professionally. And that is only what I can put into words and try to keep to one sentence because I could write novels. Actually, anyone who knows my mom could say the same. She is exceptional beyond words.
Mom emailed me this link today because she said it made her day. Reading it, it made mine too, because I know it's true and too often Librarians aren't given the lime light they deserve. So here it is.
Customer Care
.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
oak and honeysuckle and I thought describing wine was fun...
It's chuckle-worthy that leading up to and now passing by my 30th birthday, I've developed a staggering obsession with a music genre that teases out my closet electronica, techno junkie and sometimes even fuses it with everything I hated about 80s pop music.
And seriously there could be reason for concern, as lately I have been known to stop in the middle of something as important as cooking a delicate french sauce to run to the Nook and give a "thumbs up" on Pandora to bands like, "Freestylers," "College," and "DJ Fresh" -- songs with descriptions that include: electronica roots, headnodic beats, laid back female vocals, synth rock arranging, mild rhythmic syncopation, acoustic rhythm piano and extensive vamping, boiling strings, rattling synthesizers, and bass-heavy-beats. That sure as shootin beats any Pinio Noir review I've ever read--wine being the only product other than perfume that I personally (and liberally) "consume" that come with long illustrative descriptives such as the above.
I'll quickly add that this fetish of mine began with watching DRIVE -- a movie I rented purely because Ryan Gosling is in it and because I gobble up films with him in them like I did Brad Pitt movies in the 90s, but worse/more. Bands College and Desire are both featured in the film with their tracks "A Real Hero" and "Under Your Spell" respectively.
On to other things. To confess here this is a purely obligatory blog since I haven't been motivated lately--or perhaps just not operating in any consistently organized manner (consistently organized within my particular norms, that is) probably due to the fact that my world went into warp speed last week and has only barely slowed down. The feeling reminds me of being a kid and getting off a merry-go-round after a fantastical brain scrambling spin only my Dad could provide and not being able to walk strait for a few minutes.....or jumping on a trampoline for hours then trying to walk on solid ground without looking like the man on the moon.
And things aren't going to slow down for a while. Work will always been mach-level so theres no relief at the office, this weekend I'm heading to SC to clean my aunts house while she recovers from a knee injury and next week we'll be packing to move out of the house and into a CLEAN, PEST-FREE condo (God bless it!!!) on the 31st. "Whew"simply is not a strong enough word.
But this is my life. It is what it is. Which is probably why it's appropriate that I've attached myself to the aforementioned music.
Last night Rob took me out to dinner for my birthday since we we had out of town company and a pretty sizeable party last weekend and have barely recovered the house to normal conditions since then, must less our own routines. We went to Ocean Lodge, which to me has the best dinner-table panoramic ocean views on the island. See below:
and one of only a handful of "birthday pictures" we've taken-- after dinner
things could suddenly turn in a completely different direction (or multiple directions) and I probably wouldn't even notice--might even be fun. we just go with it.
"Oh, baby baby it's a wild world" - Cat Stevens
Monday, March 12, 2012
on the Mark
Over the last few weeks I have been, on at least three occasions, confronted with delightful supporting evidence that I am not alone in certain feelings and positions of mine that, I, as I near the youthful age of 30, am less and less inclined to masking with the passive and more "socially acceptable" bull poop that that the general public seems to be accustomed and preferential to....
Anyway, another bit of evidence was happened upon today and I swiped it, as I frequently do, from one of my favorite websites, Letters of Note--written by the acclaimed Mr. Mark Twain.
And after watching The Trip last night, I also found absolute joy in reading the below excerpt out loud, to an audience of myself, in my office (with the door unabashedly open), and, if I may be so bold, spoken in my very best English noble accent--even though I know Mark Twain was, quite solidly, an American....from Missouri, to be exact--Salus populi suprema lex esto
(has anyone noticed just how many commas I have used so far.....)
,
my oh my how many times have I found myself in this, "unkind state of mind," and, until today, never had the eloquence to channel that feeling into words I felt were best suited for those beings who have stirred said feelings inside my head and heart. God bless you Mr. Twain.
Happy. Monday.
Anyway, another bit of evidence was happened upon today and I swiped it, as I frequently do, from one of my favorite websites, Letters of Note--written by the acclaimed Mr. Mark Twain.
And after watching The Trip last night, I also found absolute joy in reading the below excerpt out loud, to an audience of myself, in my office (with the door unabashedly open), and, if I may be so bold, spoken in my very best English noble accent--even though I know Mark Twain was, quite solidly, an American....from Missouri, to be exact--Salus populi suprema lex esto
(has anyone noticed just how many commas I have used so far.....)
,
"...Your letter is an insoluble puzzle to me.....Puzzles fret me, puzzles annoy me, puzzles exasperate me; and always, for a moment, they arouse in me an unkind state of mind toward the person who has puzzled me. A few moments from now my resentment will have faded and passed and I shall probably even be praying for you; but while there is yet time I hasten to wish that you may take a dose of your own poison by mistake, and enter swiftly into the damnation which you...have so remorselessly earned and do so richly deserve."
,my oh my how many times have I found myself in this, "unkind state of mind," and, until today, never had the eloquence to channel that feeling into words I felt were best suited for those beings who have stirred said feelings inside my head and heart. God bless you Mr. Twain.
Happy. Monday.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Friday, March 02, 2012
grab the cat and head for the hills
For one reason or another the last month or so has found one or both of us openly discussing the possibility of the end of humanity...and maybe the world. And often when something has been resting in the foreground of my mind, it seems to take on magnetic powers...but that's another blog for another day.
So last night Rob and I humored ourselves a good 10 minute conversation about what we would do if and when it all goes to hell in a hand basket. We had started talking about how my best friends husband is convinced that the world will end this year (he is always kind enough to console us with his prediction that Rob and I will be able to enjoy the wedding and a brief period of married life before this happens, which, he thinks, would be weeks, not months--as if any of that would matter in the face of certain global demise). Rob had asked me if I thought Heith had psychic powers (what if I said yes?). I said I really didn't know, I guessed it was just a hunch. And Rob said, "Well if the world ends, I sure don't want to be here when it happens [insert my cynical chuckling] I'd rather be in the mountains." Then I said, "You mean you would actually want to survive the end of the world?!" to which he sort of snortily replied something along the lines of, "well I'd sure like to give it a shot!"
Rob isn't the only one who has expressed distaste of my occasional complete lack of enthusiasm for earthly life, even if it is all we get. Realizing that, I went along with the conversation and agreed that if we thought the world was ending we'd do our best to at least get as far as my family home in SC and then try to survive from there. So that's our plan. And it's not that I don't sincerely appreciate life or that I necessarily want to die, I just really really don't want to have to deal with crazy cannibalistic people as depicted in post apocalyptic stories like Cormac McCarthys The Road.
At the end of these conversations and brainstorms, I typically comfort my inner fears with the belief that surely our parents and grand parents and their parents and parents before them probably all had this same kind of conversation at one time or another. And this morning the universal weave gifted me with this, which appeared randomly* on one of the pages I peruse. It was written by a high school kid in the 1950s -- read this letter and more (including this one from Kurt Vonnegut -- may his blessed soul rest in peace somewhere nice) at Letters of Note
It's also worth mentioning that the young man writing this letter is named Nordahl....and isn't that an interesting name? Last night we watched the movie Another Earth, and the female character who wanted to go to Earth 2 was named Rhoda, which can be created using the letters in Nordahl, minus the n and l, of course. Anyway, it was another little thing that struck me fancy.
It's Friday, and I should be working my little fingers to the bone but I'm not -- I am simply too excited about leaving on a jet plane in two days to explore San Diego, California with my most favorite girl friend in the world, Lapo.
* randomness is something I do not believe in, along with the concept of meaningless coincidence
**I do, however, believe in unicorns, faeries and life on other planets
So last night Rob and I humored ourselves a good 10 minute conversation about what we would do if and when it all goes to hell in a hand basket. We had started talking about how my best friends husband is convinced that the world will end this year (he is always kind enough to console us with his prediction that Rob and I will be able to enjoy the wedding and a brief period of married life before this happens, which, he thinks, would be weeks, not months--as if any of that would matter in the face of certain global demise). Rob had asked me if I thought Heith had psychic powers (what if I said yes?). I said I really didn't know, I guessed it was just a hunch. And Rob said, "Well if the world ends, I sure don't want to be here when it happens [insert my cynical chuckling] I'd rather be in the mountains." Then I said, "You mean you would actually want to survive the end of the world?!" to which he sort of snortily replied something along the lines of, "well I'd sure like to give it a shot!"
Rob isn't the only one who has expressed distaste of my occasional complete lack of enthusiasm for earthly life, even if it is all we get. Realizing that, I went along with the conversation and agreed that if we thought the world was ending we'd do our best to at least get as far as my family home in SC and then try to survive from there. So that's our plan. And it's not that I don't sincerely appreciate life or that I necessarily want to die, I just really really don't want to have to deal with crazy cannibalistic people as depicted in post apocalyptic stories like Cormac McCarthys The Road.
At the end of these conversations and brainstorms, I typically comfort my inner fears with the belief that surely our parents and grand parents and their parents and parents before them probably all had this same kind of conversation at one time or another. And this morning the universal weave gifted me with this, which appeared randomly* on one of the pages I peruse. It was written by a high school kid in the 1950s -- read this letter and more (including this one from Kurt Vonnegut -- may his blessed soul rest in peace somewhere nice) at Letters of Note
It's Friday, and I should be working my little fingers to the bone but I'm not -- I am simply too excited about leaving on a jet plane in two days to explore San Diego, California with my most favorite girl friend in the world, Lapo.
* randomness is something I do not believe in, along with the concept of meaningless coincidence
**I do, however, believe in unicorns, faeries and life on other planets
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
"....it's a loop hole that Jesus didn't anticipate" - Colbert
holy mother of moses I almost forgot....LENT!!!! What kind of non-Catholic-Lent-participator-because-its-the-hip-thing-to-do-even-if-we-dont-know-what-it-means am I????
So I've shared this with a few people here at work, but I want to make it blog-public.
While I did not don the smudge...I did do something to join the masses (no pun intended...hehe) and I vowed to give up something. And since I'm not Catholic I used my protestant-raised card to alter my commitment to something I enjoy even though it's not really that important to me. And that would be: Soy.
But as a gesture of my faith, because I'm being sincere about this. I upgraded my period of abstanance from Lent-time to LIFETIME.
no more soy...permanently
whoa.....and that made me just realize...
SOY
LENT
green is people, man
(giggles hysterically as she runs from the office...)
So I've shared this with a few people here at work, but I want to make it blog-public.
While I did not don the smudge...I did do something to join the masses (no pun intended...hehe) and I vowed to give up something. And since I'm not Catholic I used my protestant-raised card to alter my commitment to something I enjoy even though it's not really that important to me. And that would be: Soy.
But as a gesture of my faith, because I'm being sincere about this. I upgraded my period of abstanance from Lent-time to LIFETIME.
no more soy...permanently
whoa.....and that made me just realize...
SOY
LENT
green is people, man
(giggles hysterically as she runs from the office...)
A long story about You Just Can't Fix Stupid
Much to my chagrin, the Apotasaurus concept never caught on.
I do confess I am the least bit consoled by the fact that, after a great deal of rigmarole (I almost said "male rigmarole" but I struggled with it being an oxymoron while at the same time knowing that since Rob was supervising, things actually were resolved--but then again, we both have our suspicions that he may have an ovary in there somewhere).
So there is this fascinating thing about maintenance contractors. It reminds me a lot of a similar phenomenon that occurs with many used car salesmen. There might be a whole heap of intelligence in there, but you'd never know it because if it's there it's entirely coated in a thick layer of.....well....bullshit.
Now, I would never say it applies to each and every one of them, because on occasion I have met several very competent, friendly contractors (less frequent with car salesmen) who actually take pride in the rarely embraced concept of doing a good job and the even more uncommon the first time. Ironically, I seem to encounter these folk after I, like so many, have been the recipient of a great load of bullshit and have finally put my foot down, so to speak. And that is what most of the aforementioned men (and some women) would call, "being a bitch."
And I have to say that this time I didn't have to be a bitch. I really like that. I mean, I REALLY like that. But it doesn't mean they didn't try their best hand with Rob...
the HVAC guy inspects the heat pump/furnace in the attic and emerges, as I've said, scratching his butt and shrugging his shoulders....Rob follows him outside where he's taking a gander at where the power wires enter the roof. The HVAC guy notes that the insulation on the main wire entering the house has been torn off, most likely by those furry little acrobats we call squirrels. So he says "th'insulations torn off of that power wire there, so that loud noise y'all heard was prob'bly one of them squirrels getting 'lectricuted." Rob listened to this, took a moment to reflect, glanced around and said, "hmh. that's weird, there should be six or seven dead squirrels lying around here on the ground"....to which the HVAC guy responds, "well, maybe a cat drug 'em off"
I'd been home for a few minutes that evening when Roy the electrician stopped by on his way home from work -- cause he just lived a street over. After a brief viewing of the exterior of the house his response to me was "well, whatever it is it'll be on Georgia Power, not us." So I said "well the HVAC guy said there was a bit of rodent activity in the attic....so there might be damage to some of the wires in the attic, we just want to make sure there's no fire hazard." Roy starts walking away as I'm talking and when I say "fire hazard he stops, tilts his head a bit, squints his eyes and says, "What's your last name?" -- this was funny because Louis Oalmann was my Papa, so I learned all these tricks.....and the last name game is just a way of asking who your Daddy is...and back in the day it could be followed by, "what does your Daddy do"...but, it is also a backhanded way of implying they're highly suspicious you might be a trouble maker...probably because your Daddy was one. Times like this I wish I could morph INTO my Papa so that I would have the proper presence to dish shit right back at an asshole of this type. Anyway, Roy was no help.
I pondered that the rest of the evening. All Rob and I were asking was that the problem be identified and repaired. And thus far everyone who had come to the house had done nothing more than waste our time from work, accomplish nothing and point the finger at someone else. WEIRD!
Yesterday Rob had the day off so he was home all day to supervise and direct the cat-herding of getting these contractors to actually do what they need to do. The Terminex guy was great. He did a thorough inspection of the entire house, confirmed our attic had indeed over the years been allowed to become a "rodent playground" (though when I made these reports to our landlady they were laughed off as "squirrels on the roof"...grrrr)...I mean, sure squirrels are way better to think about than RATS, but reality is reality. Anyway, the Terminex guy actually continued his "work," set traps, patched entry points and will be back tomorrow to follow-up and possibly lay down poison under the house. Thank you Terminex.
And when Georgia Power came out they called Roy and waited at the house until he got there to repair what was indeed his job to repair...a "lug" that was improperly installed AND the wrong kind to go on the back of the meter. Good boy, Roy.
I have already drafted the letter to the owner that we will not be renewing our lease at the end of March and I have an appointment next week to view a condo where we will most likely be living as of April 1st! Whooooooo Hooooooooo happy day.
I do confess I am the least bit consoled by the fact that, after a great deal of rigmarole (I almost said "male rigmarole" but I struggled with it being an oxymoron while at the same time knowing that since Rob was supervising, things actually were resolved--but then again, we both have our suspicions that he may have an ovary in there somewhere).
So there is this fascinating thing about maintenance contractors. It reminds me a lot of a similar phenomenon that occurs with many used car salesmen. There might be a whole heap of intelligence in there, but you'd never know it because if it's there it's entirely coated in a thick layer of.....well....bullshit.
Now, I would never say it applies to each and every one of them, because on occasion I have met several very competent, friendly contractors (less frequent with car salesmen) who actually take pride in the rarely embraced concept of doing a good job and the even more uncommon the first time. Ironically, I seem to encounter these folk after I, like so many, have been the recipient of a great load of bullshit and have finally put my foot down, so to speak. And that is what most of the aforementioned men (and some women) would call, "being a bitch."
And I have to say that this time I didn't have to be a bitch. I really like that. I mean, I REALLY like that. But it doesn't mean they didn't try their best hand with Rob...
the HVAC guy inspects the heat pump/furnace in the attic and emerges, as I've said, scratching his butt and shrugging his shoulders....Rob follows him outside where he's taking a gander at where the power wires enter the roof. The HVAC guy notes that the insulation on the main wire entering the house has been torn off, most likely by those furry little acrobats we call squirrels. So he says "th'insulations torn off of that power wire there, so that loud noise y'all heard was prob'bly one of them squirrels getting 'lectricuted." Rob listened to this, took a moment to reflect, glanced around and said, "hmh. that's weird, there should be six or seven dead squirrels lying around here on the ground"....to which the HVAC guy responds, "well, maybe a cat drug 'em off"
I'd been home for a few minutes that evening when Roy the electrician stopped by on his way home from work -- cause he just lived a street over. After a brief viewing of the exterior of the house his response to me was "well, whatever it is it'll be on Georgia Power, not us." So I said "well the HVAC guy said there was a bit of rodent activity in the attic....so there might be damage to some of the wires in the attic, we just want to make sure there's no fire hazard." Roy starts walking away as I'm talking and when I say "fire hazard he stops, tilts his head a bit, squints his eyes and says, "What's your last name?" -- this was funny because Louis Oalmann was my Papa, so I learned all these tricks.....and the last name game is just a way of asking who your Daddy is...and back in the day it could be followed by, "what does your Daddy do"...but, it is also a backhanded way of implying they're highly suspicious you might be a trouble maker...probably because your Daddy was one. Times like this I wish I could morph INTO my Papa so that I would have the proper presence to dish shit right back at an asshole of this type. Anyway, Roy was no help.
I pondered that the rest of the evening. All Rob and I were asking was that the problem be identified and repaired. And thus far everyone who had come to the house had done nothing more than waste our time from work, accomplish nothing and point the finger at someone else. WEIRD!
Yesterday Rob had the day off so he was home all day to supervise and direct the cat-herding of getting these contractors to actually do what they need to do. The Terminex guy was great. He did a thorough inspection of the entire house, confirmed our attic had indeed over the years been allowed to become a "rodent playground" (though when I made these reports to our landlady they were laughed off as "squirrels on the roof"...grrrr)...I mean, sure squirrels are way better to think about than RATS, but reality is reality. Anyway, the Terminex guy actually continued his "work," set traps, patched entry points and will be back tomorrow to follow-up and possibly lay down poison under the house. Thank you Terminex.
And when Georgia Power came out they called Roy and waited at the house until he got there to repair what was indeed his job to repair...a "lug" that was improperly installed AND the wrong kind to go on the back of the meter. Good boy, Roy.
I have already drafted the letter to the owner that we will not be renewing our lease at the end of March and I have an appointment next week to view a condo where we will most likely be living as of April 1st! Whooooooo Hooooooooo happy day.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
things that go bump in the night
Ian Malcom: God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs.
Ellie Sattler: Dinosaurs eat man.....woman inherits the earth. -Jurrasic Park
No one believes me thus far, so I figure if I blog about it, at least there is a semi-public record of my feelings about our current situation and the things that may or may not be done about it.
I won't waste time getting to the point. I have determined that one of two explanations is true regarding the current (and undoubtedly ongoing) circumstances of 207 Anguilla.
Scenario One: The house looks cute and quaint from the curb and has a rather extravagant irrigation system throughout it's landscaped yards, but the homes innards are the result of cheap, post-war construction, out-dated and most likely "home-made" electrical, plumbing and duct work which after a certain amount of time would have required repairs if not complete reconstruction which was never done and at the most any changes that have been made were made in the cheapest, laziest most assinine and unprofessional ways imaginable, possibly compounded by it's being located about 1 mile from big water and less than 20ft above sea level. And there could be an impressive long-undisturbed rodent establishment throughout the skeleton of the home.
or Scenario Two, which, in case you are wondering, is what I believe is actually going on....
There is a baby Apatosaurus living in the attic directly above our bedroom.
Pretty simple to figure out which one is more likely. I mean, we clearly have a dinosaur in our house. He or she is a little bashful and a little clumsy and really only emerges between the hours of 12:45 and 2 or 3am. This also very easily explains why the contractors who came to the house today merely emerged scratching their butts and shrugging their shoulders and mumbling something about how the reason Rob and I were wide awake in the middle of the night last night--stalking through the house with flashlights and eventually sleeping in the guest room for fear that part of the house might collapse--is actually due to something more along the lines of Scenario One.
And we all know that is just not true.
Monday, February 20, 2012
and one more reason I have way better things to do than "work" today...
 |
| for Roberto and his quest for the perfect stash...compliments of www.OldTomFoolery.com |
things that make me laugh hard and talk out loud to myself in public places
 |
| it's gettin real in the Winn-Dixie parking lot... |
Sunday, February 12, 2012
a bright sunny beautiful 27 degree morning in the coastal south
this morning's dream turned out to be cool enough that I still remember it, so I'm writing...err, typing... it down...err, on this blog.
there are a lot of details I don't remember, but I believe my imagination crafted most of the details from a combination of movies I've watched this week. Friday night we watched TRON (Legacy, not the original/classic...also good), and last night we watched 9 (a favorite of mine).
In my dream I went to work (work was much darker than usual...like the aforementioned films) and I was talking to a member who I have grown very close to over the last few years. This isn't far from my daily routine at work. In real life he is a retired newspaper owner/editor from Athens, GA and he had polio when he was little. He recalls summers spent at Roosevelt Rehabilitation center in Warm Springs, GA (near where I used to work and where my parents now live) and he regained the ability to walk but lost it about 4 years ago because his legs were too weak to support the results of what he refers to as a love for ice cream. And he does not want to give up ice cream, but he says he walked enough in life to be okay with that. That sounds like it could be sad, but he's a pretty happy person, and he is a very good friend of mine. In real life we read the newspaper together (which is just an excuse for sitting in my office talking about whatever comes to mind). So to be hanging out with Graham in my dream assured me it simply could not end poorly.
In my dream I had been talking to him in his apartment and he was waiting for his daughter to get home -- about to turn in for the evening (his daughter turned out to be my step-fathers daughter Lynn, and she turned out to be pregnant, but that was another wormhole in the dream). I was doing research at a computer in their living room, and what I was researching was a hypothesis that I had been talking about with a college professor of mine (who was actually my social neuroscience prof at GSU), that our galaxy, and possibly universe, instead of being connected to other galaxies and universes by gases and black holes and nothingness, was connected by a sort of liquid -- very similar to water -- but much darker. When I actually SAW the water in my dream it was exactly like the ocean at the ending of TRON (2010).
The end of my dream found me trying to get away from a group of people who wanted to hide this discovery from the rest of the world. I was standing on the edge of this black ocean that I believed connected worlds. And the only obvious path of escape was to attempt to swim to the next world (I say world here b/c in my dream we referred to them as universes, but it could have been galaxies). So I jumped in and started swimming. And swimming in the space fluid was much easier than regular water, and I could swim much faster than I can in water....and I MADE it to the next world. I slowed down my pace and paddled through a large gate that looked like a chain link fence and was partially submerged. Through the gate and to my right there was an old wooden-looking dock and at the far end of the dock was a dilapidated 'boat house.' I swam closer to the dock because I was getting tired but I was also seriously debating on whether getting out of the liquid it was a safe idea, if gravity was the same in this new place, and what beings might emerge to investigate this visitor from the Milky Way. Then, something did step out from the shadows on the dock. It was small but seemed large at the same time, and it hesitantly but hurriedly came to the edge of the dock. Just before I woke up the little creature kneeled down and reached out to help me out of the water--and it was Number 9.
there are a lot of details I don't remember, but I believe my imagination crafted most of the details from a combination of movies I've watched this week. Friday night we watched TRON (Legacy, not the original/classic...also good), and last night we watched 9 (a favorite of mine).
In my dream I went to work (work was much darker than usual...like the aforementioned films) and I was talking to a member who I have grown very close to over the last few years. This isn't far from my daily routine at work. In real life he is a retired newspaper owner/editor from Athens, GA and he had polio when he was little. He recalls summers spent at Roosevelt Rehabilitation center in Warm Springs, GA (near where I used to work and where my parents now live) and he regained the ability to walk but lost it about 4 years ago because his legs were too weak to support the results of what he refers to as a love for ice cream. And he does not want to give up ice cream, but he says he walked enough in life to be okay with that. That sounds like it could be sad, but he's a pretty happy person, and he is a very good friend of mine. In real life we read the newspaper together (which is just an excuse for sitting in my office talking about whatever comes to mind). So to be hanging out with Graham in my dream assured me it simply could not end poorly.
In my dream I had been talking to him in his apartment and he was waiting for his daughter to get home -- about to turn in for the evening (his daughter turned out to be my step-fathers daughter Lynn, and she turned out to be pregnant, but that was another wormhole in the dream). I was doing research at a computer in their living room, and what I was researching was a hypothesis that I had been talking about with a college professor of mine (who was actually my social neuroscience prof at GSU), that our galaxy, and possibly universe, instead of being connected to other galaxies and universes by gases and black holes and nothingness, was connected by a sort of liquid -- very similar to water -- but much darker. When I actually SAW the water in my dream it was exactly like the ocean at the ending of TRON (2010).
The end of my dream found me trying to get away from a group of people who wanted to hide this discovery from the rest of the world. I was standing on the edge of this black ocean that I believed connected worlds. And the only obvious path of escape was to attempt to swim to the next world (I say world here b/c in my dream we referred to them as universes, but it could have been galaxies). So I jumped in and started swimming. And swimming in the space fluid was much easier than regular water, and I could swim much faster than I can in water....and I MADE it to the next world. I slowed down my pace and paddled through a large gate that looked like a chain link fence and was partially submerged. Through the gate and to my right there was an old wooden-looking dock and at the far end of the dock was a dilapidated 'boat house.' I swam closer to the dock because I was getting tired but I was also seriously debating on whether getting out of the liquid it was a safe idea, if gravity was the same in this new place, and what beings might emerge to investigate this visitor from the Milky Way. Then, something did step out from the shadows on the dock. It was small but seemed large at the same time, and it hesitantly but hurriedly came to the edge of the dock. Just before I woke up the little creature kneeled down and reached out to help me out of the water--and it was Number 9.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
la fenêtre
Monday, February 06, 2012
" Serious Power "
Considering my previous post, I feel I owe this company a shout-out (I would say advertising but the travelers through here are few and far between). Whether my cold finally wore out its welcome or this stuff actually worked, one way or another I woke up a day later feeling nearly normal again. It doesn't taste great, but, by golly, it has my stamp.
Friday, February 03, 2012
anatomy of the seasonal cold aches and pains. a list of ten. and then some.
1. the epidermis on and around my nose. it peeled two days ago. today it just looks like I sat in the sun for three hours with a lead blanket covering my entire body except for a cutout right around the snout. not. attractive.
2. the rest of the skin, full thickness, on my entire face and scalp
3. my entire sinus cavity, which is also pressurized just enough to make my ears pop occasionally
4. my gums, and consequently
5. my teeth...I suddenly have very vivid memories of waking up the day after an orthodontist visit
6. the hair follicles of each individual eyelash...both eyes
7. my throat (but only when I cough, sneeze or breath)
8. my brain--right there where the temples are (the well known "sinus headache") but I feel it may also extend into my temporal lobe because my decision making and reasoning skills have been somewhat muted this week....and my hippocampus is probably also involved since I've felt like a dementia sufferer all week (but that could have already been there just less noticeable)
9. the joints in my wrists and fingers
and just so I have an even number of woes
10. my right big toe from where I stubbed it earlier coming in from getting the mail (what, that doesn't count?)
It doesn't help that Rob has been out of town for three weeks and won't be home until Sunday. It also doesn't help that my cat Stella has proven herself completely useless as a nurse. And because I like the number 3 (I have a thing for numbers), I will add that it really really doesn't help that my mom is 5 hours away.
Woe. Woe is me.
[goes to bed]
2. the rest of the skin, full thickness, on my entire face and scalp
3. my entire sinus cavity, which is also pressurized just enough to make my ears pop occasionally
4. my gums, and consequently
5. my teeth...I suddenly have very vivid memories of waking up the day after an orthodontist visit
6. the hair follicles of each individual eyelash...both eyes
7. my throat (but only when I cough, sneeze or breath)
8. my brain--right there where the temples are (the well known "sinus headache") but I feel it may also extend into my temporal lobe because my decision making and reasoning skills have been somewhat muted this week....and my hippocampus is probably also involved since I've felt like a dementia sufferer all week (but that could have already been there just less noticeable)
9. the joints in my wrists and fingers
and just so I have an even number of woes
10. my right big toe from where I stubbed it earlier coming in from getting the mail (what, that doesn't count?)
It doesn't help that Rob has been out of town for three weeks and won't be home until Sunday. It also doesn't help that my cat Stella has proven herself completely useless as a nurse. And because I like the number 3 (I have a thing for numbers), I will add that it really really doesn't help that my mom is 5 hours away.
Woe. Woe is me.
[goes to bed]
Friday, January 27, 2012
“If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it.”
― Stephen Colbert
― Stephen Colbert
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Georgia Highway 80 (draft)
10. I sat, quiet
nervous in the artificial night
holding rough boy-hands
with my cousin and brother
all wondering why it was
we could not see the skies
as my father did
I crawled dutifully through years
of inflatable universes
galaxies trapped
condensed into globes of floating nylon
carefully erected in dark rooms
I coveted cold weekend nights spent on pasture hills
eating freeze-dried ice cream and looking up
through his fascination
and telescopes
I plead with God to
let me learn
Taurus, Scorpio and Pisces...
only ever seeing
Orion's bittersweet
three-starred belt
and the occasional dipper
twenty years later they suddenly snatched at me
driving deep among Georgia rollers
streaming through dark space and pine shadows
even steel and tempered glass were no match
my car rested patiently in the shoulder grass
there, Pegasus
reared into the heavens
the curtain of my earthly eyes drew
oh, my family of light
'I used to be a star,' you see
I thought perhaps I'd lost their gaze
but there was no mistaking
these constellations I have missed
all the years and names I have forgotten
they are there
twinkling, infinite
celestial reunion
...
as I pull into our driveway
Betelguese glows low above the yard palms
Orion rests along our roof
and Aquarius swims aside his Fish
nervous in the artificial night
holding rough boy-hands
with my cousin and brother
all wondering why it was
we could not see the skies
as my father did
I crawled dutifully through years
of inflatable universes
galaxies trapped
condensed into globes of floating nylon
carefully erected in dark rooms
I coveted cold weekend nights spent on pasture hills
eating freeze-dried ice cream and looking up
through his fascination
and telescopes
I plead with God to
let me learn
Taurus, Scorpio and Pisces...
only ever seeing
Orion's bittersweet
three-starred belt
and the occasional dipper
twenty years later they suddenly snatched at me
driving deep among Georgia rollers
streaming through dark space and pine shadows
even steel and tempered glass were no match
my car rested patiently in the shoulder grass
there, Pegasus
reared into the heavens
the curtain of my earthly eyes drew
oh, my family of light
'I used to be a star,' you see
I thought perhaps I'd lost their gaze
but there was no mistaking
these constellations I have missed
all the years and names I have forgotten
they are there
twinkling, infinite
celestial reunion
...
as I pull into our driveway
Betelguese glows low above the yard palms
Orion rests along our roof
and Aquarius swims aside his Fish
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)