late night rambler

Leave the past behind, just walk away
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"

________________________________

And a few suitably amusing illustrations I'd like to add

 

 

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
. 

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

also showcasing Rob's stash (that originally would have retired at then end of "Moustache March" but has since been extended until after the Brunswick rodeo we're going to in April since Grant Powers, a bronc rider (not "bucking bronc," just "bronc," mind you), dedicated "The Ultimate Bad-Ass Award" to Rob over the course of my bday weekend.

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

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.....)
,

"...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.

the theme continues....

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

"The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us."

–Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes

"....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...)

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.

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. 

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...

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.

la fenêtre

...an early morning, while-driving, one-handed, not-looking, phone-camera shot of the sun through the passenger window of my car

" 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.

Theraflu

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]

“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

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

and Henry, you danced like a wooden Indian

Ever had a Thursday where you are so happy that the next day is Friday, then Friday comes and it's so incredibly busy but you think "at least it's Friday."

Then Saturday arrived and I was happy b/c I had a 90 minute massage at 11 and there were no words to describe just how badly I needed a good massage (in my case, I think I could've handled a jackhammer, but I settled for a human-generated deep tissue session).

So, it was Saturday--feeling great--sunny day.

But then I felt like I should  go into work for "just a few minutes," just to make sure some arrangements were all in place. And I ended up being at work until almost 5 but allowed myself to foolishly hope that everything was under control and consoled my wasted day with, "at least I still have Sunday." Then Sunday morning came....and at 6:50am I heard my cell phone ringing in my purse that's hanging from a door knob in the dining room.....and I knew it was work....and I knew I should let it go....but I got up anyway....and the number was my general work number....but I knew who was probably calling....and I knew I could just go back to bed....but I called them back anyway.

That's when I realized that my week had officially continued on from Friday....at 6:50am this morning. When I tried to go back to bed my brain was in overdrive brainstorming about solutions for their problem, so I called back with a few more suggestions. Rob and I got up at 7:30 b/c I was completely awake. It's our 2 year anniversary (and 1 month engagement anniversary) so we decided to go to breakfast. I purposefully left both phones at home and we rode our bikes to Mallery Street Cafe. We decided over breakfast that today we would get a Christmas tree. The day was improving.

Home, there were two messages on my work cell. I didn't even listen to them b/c I knew who was calling and could guess what they were saying/pleading--frantic contract-nurse at work who was trying to deal with a complete and total lunatic of a 59 year old woman who thinks the entire world should bow to her every demand a few seconds before shes even thought about them...and if you think you've met someone like this (because until today, I really did think I knew one or two, or had at least seen versions of such a specimen on TV/Film) you should meet Mrs J and she will blow your mind. I don't even care about the slight HIPPA violation with that first initial drop there. That's how much I don't care about this psychotic paranoid schizophrenic histrionic manic depressive woman who somehow during the week apparently operates normally in her affluent golfing community. Of course now we all know that her "normal" is waaaaaaay beyond what any of us would describe it as...even within the excessively broad parameters of an already ambiguous descriptive.

And I am doing the best that I can

Midway through phone conversations with the nurse, I text my boss. She and I go back and forth for a few minutes and then the nurse calls back with the latest report (the reports were about 15mins apart...and by report I mean the next completely insane demand that had spurted out of crazy ladys oral cavity that even a registered nurse couldn't figure out). My last text to my boss was "my goal is to get her to discharge home before she consumes my entire weekend...she had a knee replacement by a renowned MD, not a bionic brain transplant by an intern." The next call from the nurse was that Crazyfool wanted to talk to my boss. HAHAHAHA.  Now THAT was when I started smiling.  Oh yes, gladly. So I called my boss and asked her to call the unit. And my phone as been silent ever since. Ahhhh.

Well, I tried to tell Crazyfool....but some people don't believe me when I say things. Some people think I'm just saying words to fill space. Some people think I'm just saying things based on my mood at the time. The truth is, when I say it, 99.9% of the time I really and truly mean it. And at some point,  I will stop caring and I will stop trying--and it will feel good when I finally allow that burden to fall easily off my shoulders.

And hopefully along the way that person/situation didn't push me into the zone I rarely enter...the SURZ -- the Spent-Up Rachel Zone....cause that jest ain't no place to find yerself caught up in. Yesterday, I think I might have gotten toe-deep in the SURZ....but I somehow rallied myself back into neutral.  I really don't like going into the SURZ.

So anyway, just to get any other undesirables out of the way, I balanced my bank account--which has really become a more and more humorous concept as I've gotten older and the years speed faster and faster by me.

And now, I am going to find us a nice Christmas tree.

And when Rob gets home from work we're going to open a bottle of champagne. And decorate that tree. And listen to Christmas music. And feel happy. Because guess what....tomorrow is Monday. And life is short.


Except this one mattered and I felt it had a spirit
And I shot the story cause I didn't hear it that way

I WANT A KITTY

Ok....when I was little, teeny tiny wonderful little kittens LITERALLY seemed to just APPEAR on a regular basis. Sometimes we even had to bottle feed them and my parents would grumble and eventually would give them away because we already had TOO MANY animals. So why is it that when I really really really WANT a baby kitten, I have to pay* for one, and it's not even a baby anymore!

I want a free** baby kitten! And when I say baby, I mean, weened off mama cat but maybe not even on hard food yet. THAT kind of baby kitten. The kind that wakes you up every two hours for food and attention. The kind that every once in a while will topple over because their legs are still wobbly and their balance not so great. The kind that can only sleep if they're on your chest because your heartbeat is comforting (ok, big cats do that too, but I'm not talkin about big cats now)--and when they do sleep they still suckle and kick and twitch in their dreams the way only baby kittens do. The kind that still has blue eyes. The kind that their fur is still really super fluffy and downy and you're not even positive if it will stay white and gray or turn black. The kind that.....ok, I can't think of anything else right now.

The point is, I really want a baby kitten.

*The author notes and advises that all pets require--sometimes significant-- monetary expenditures in order to adequately support their health and well-being. The author simply would rather spend "adoption fees" on vaccines, spay.neuter cost, age appropriate  food, litter and all the fun little feathery jingley toys that cats enjoy.

**See above disclaimer

among the dunes

As the end of my second year in the coastal south approaches, I continue to be amazed at the fact that four days before Thanksgiving I can pull on a bathing suit and head to the beach to spend the better part of my day there. That's not to say that it doesn't get chilly here, and it's certainly not to say that Rob and I don't sincerely miss the crisp air and painted landscape of fall in South Carolina or West Virginia. But as long as I'm here, I intend to appreciate the particulars of island living.

Walking along the beach path from 11th street to East Beach there is a certain point where shoes of any kind become an obstruction to effective forward movement, so I kicked off my flip flops and plodded the rest of the way to my usual camp site-- umbrella, chair and beach bag in tow. The beach looked different today, and for a second I actually had to take a good look around to assure myself I was indeed in the exact same spot that I have planted myself every time I've come to the beach this summer. And that was a lovely thing to ponder for a while because as soon as I knew I wasn't in a parallel dimension somewhere my inner voice gave me a kindly flick on the forehead for ever having assumed that something like a beach would ever remain the same. But for the record, it had changed quite a bit this time, as if the beach and all the sandbars had been slurried around overnight--they were significantly transformed.

Four and a half hours later I had watched low tide yield to the pull of the moon and high tide was clamboring in. I had finished reading the latest book to grace my imagination and for a while I just sat on my towel staring out at the ocean and wondering what to do next while at the same time being completely content with remaining right where I was with no active plans at all. But out of that strange internal obligation which is most likely a completely socialized thing of our culture, I got up from my towel and bent under my umbrella to put my book away...I suppose in an effort to--as Daddy Wayne puts it--"begin the egress." But as I put the book away I realized my beach chair was in the perfect amount of shade, so I sat down...and pretended to continue the egress while the other 99.9% of my attention was on listening to the sound of the ocean...which led into more thinking. And in my usual nature of taking delight in thinking and pondering and contemplating and realizing--and I will say my psyche rarely disappoints me no matter how big or small the process is--I began considering exactly why it was that I felt so OK with just staying at the beach until the cows came home, and what exactly the "sound of the ocean" is and other things like that. So as I'm sitting in the chair, thinking and guiltily messing around with my beach bag as if I, were I to continue, might actually convince myself to pack up and leave (which didn't really work because as I dug for my phone to check the time I noticed I had two magazines in the bag that I hadn't read yet...well I could read these and THEN go...) it occurred to me that the sound of the ocean was a natural "white noise" and that it, combined with the nearly perfect temperature and breeze, was probably behind the reason why I was so content, or perhaps, entranced...and my inner voice gave me another of those proverbial flicks because then it seemed obvious.

As I was recovering from re-entry to reality I see, out of the corner of my eye, a couple walking past and the guy points at me and I realize I/we know them. It was a couple who Rob and I have met and hung out with at a few parties and hoped we would eventually become friends with.  So they were walking with their baby (who I now call "sweet baby James" as he is wonderful for holding and bouncing and chirruping and laughing with) and they stopped to talk for a few minutes. They were at a birthday party/oyster roast we went to last night and all of us had stayed out till the wee morning talking and laughing and having our hair and clothes and skin soaked with the smell of burning cedar wood and roasted shellfish and the low-country air of live oaks and moss and salt.

Anyway their visit broke the spell that had kept me at the beach for so long after I'd finished my reading and then I was glad I had been entranced for long enough to see them. Once they were on their way further along the beach I packed up my things and walked myself to the car. At home I warmed up some soup and sat down to write about today. Because it has been a good day. And I am happy.

The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them -Stephen King

We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness - and call it love - true love.
-Robert Fulghum

Before It Breaks

Around here, it's the hardest time of year
Waking up, the days are even gone
The collar of my coat, lord help me cannot keep off the cold
The rain drops sting my eyes, I keep them closed

But I'm feeling no pain
I'm a little lonely and my quietest friend,
have I the moonlight? have I let you in?

Say it ain't so say I'm happy again.
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming,
say I'm better than you left me.
Say you're sorry, I can take it.

say you'll wait, say you won't
say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
let it bend before it breaks

I'm alright, don't I always seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars? Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
Went looking for a crossroads, it happens every day
and whichever way you turn, I'm going to turn the other way

Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry I can take it

say you'll wait, say you wont
Say you love me say you dont
I can make my own mistakes
I learned to let it bend before it breaks

 - Brandi Carlile

hunches, hypothesis and theories

1986--or somewhere around then--I am sitting on the curb of a cobblestone drive waiting for Dad to bring around our big red and white caprice classic to load our luggage into and head home. No one is interested in anything other than the fact that I am out of the way, but I am working on something very important. And suddenly, after many failed attempts and at about the exact same time absolutely no one is around me or looking, I succeed in what I have been determined to do for a few months now. I have officially learned how to tie my shoelaces.

And I have tied them correctly, as in, how my father has been coaching me, "right over left Rachel, right over left" -- a perfect square knot bow in the laces of my knock-off Keds.

This memory sat in my mind for years and years as the memory of, "when I learned the tie my shoes." It is probably the first memory I can access after other important stages in life such as "first learned to talk," and "first learned to walk" --

In August of 2009 I quit my job. I had a mortgage, two dogs, a cat and a car that was in dire need of new tires and a tune up, but I quit my job around 11:30 one morning and drove south through Atlanta to my Newnan bungalow that I wasn't quite sure exactly how I was going to pay for at this point, but I didn't care. It was one of those "I'd rather lose everything than work here one more second" moments.

I started applying for jobs. Some that were similar to what I had been doing, but what I really wanted was a career change. I was so burned out on Social Work and Corporate America that I was ready to lose it all, go back to school and become a Librarian (still not a bad idea...minus the "lose it all" part of course).

Somewhere around the end of September of that year I cashed in all my mutual funds. At that point I was applying for jobs anywhere, everywhere--Georgia, Texas, Louisana, North Carolina, Tennessee, mountains, coast, desert...wherever. I was also drinking way more than I needed to and could have been diagnosed as depressed and self medicating. I had weaned myself off a few medications I had been taking because I knew my health insurance would end as soon as my ex-employer could get their grimy hands on the paperwork (and they did, and it did). I wasn't necessarily miserable, but I was definitely unhappy and getting increasingly worried that I might need to begin consulting the local homeless folks on exactly how to make it through winter on cardboard boxes and the occasional hand out. Yes I knew my family would never let it come to that...but it was a legitimate concern. And I still did not regret in the least my decision than got me there (still don't).

Three major things happened at the end of 2009 that changed my life. I am sure they have all been mentioned before on this blog, but I feel inclined to reminisce...

First, Robert, who'd had his fill of my increased unavailability and "rock star lifestyle" (being superficial bffs with a bar owner helps when you're poor and working diligently at developing a drinking problem) insisted that we take a vacation and he found and booked a pet friendly cabin in Hot Springs (see that story here).

Second, before that trip actually happened, I had a call for a phone interview with a company that I actually wasn't sure which application it matched. There were so many, and I still only vaugely remember filling out an online app at career builder and then thinking nothing more of it (after hundreds of resumes they all blur together). I was in Kroger when they called and I quickly asked if I could call them right back, zoomed home and did a little bit of research on the company (tried desperately, and to know avail, to find the application/resume I had sent them), called the lady back and did my very best at an impromptu interview (which I thought actually went okay but was so down on myself then that I had no expectations). A few days later I was happily contacted by the same company for an live interview that was scheduled for the Monday after our Hot Springs trip.

Mom rode with me to the interview. We had to leave VERY early because it was located at a retirement community on St. Simons Island, which is five hours from my house in Newnan. We had a great trip actually, and though I thought the interview was a bit awkward (the gentleman who would be my "boss" were I offered the position was at least 3 years younger than me and his maturity followed suit) I was uplifted at having actually scored an interview somewhere more appealing than the (very few) other leads.

The third event was that a week later (closing in on Christmas) I was driving to Target and got the call offering me a position and nearly matching my salary from my last job AND offering me 30 days free room and board in the community of Marsh's Edge while I found a place to live since I would be relocating.

I put my house on the market, spent a very Merry Christmas with my family (also the last Christmas we would spend with our wonderful Nana, the great Ruth Oalmann) and just before the end of the year I liquidated my 401K (the last of any "nest egg" I had).

By the end of January I found an apartment I could afford and with the help of my wonderful family and Robert, completed the final stages of officially moving to St. Simon's Island.

Somewhere around April or May (2010), another mysterious thing happened.

My aunt and uncle came to visit and they were staying at the islands landmark hotel The King and Prince. The first night they were in town I met them in the lobby. I parked my car along the curb and as I walked in I had an extremely strong sense of deja vu and couldn't quite place my finger on why.  As we headed out to go to dinner, I suddenly remembered exactly what was firing off in the recesses of my memory. The cobblestone drive, the curb, the landscape.....I had learned to tie my shoes at the King and Prince when I was four. There is scientific meaning behind the "light bulb effect"...whatever synapse was harboring the chemicals of that memory finally exploded across to it's neighboring cells--a bolt of lightening that has made a solid connection from cloud to ground and spread thousands of tendrils of electricity and light into the atmosphere--illuminating the events surrounding that marker in my childhood history. We were on the island for some business thing my parents were looking into (or something like that). Dad had fussed at me that morning for accidentally walking in on him getting dressed in the bathroom and mom was probably busy with Stefan.  I was being the typical kid "getting in the way" and felt as such, so I had very willingly been ushered by my [mom? grandparents?] to the curb where they were making a pile of our luggage. I kept quiet and busied myself with that little thing I had wanted so badly to accomplish for what seemed like years.

2011 It's Sunday morning in late September. I'm sitting on our screened porch with my cat Stella and a cup of coffee that I'm sure by now is cold. And I am considering, as I do often these days, all the forces of nature that brought me here, brought Rob here (where he happily works for SEA) and how the fabric of the universe is so majestically woven.

 A quarter of a century ago I learned to tie my shoes about a mile from where we live now. It is more moving than I can find words to describe, to consider the symbolism in that moment and how the many years between then an now have led me back here, as a shoe lace loops back and forth through the eyes of a sneaker. And having been here for almost two years now,  I feel like I am perhaps on the brink of yet another major marker in my life. I have no idea what it will be. I have hopes and dreams and five year plans. And, for the record, have not changed careers and actually see my possibilities in this field.

But beyond that I have something far deeper that has been growing inside me for as long as I can remember (it has always been there, though there have been times when I have failed to acknowledge it). It is constantly under construction and reinforcement but it's foundation is solid and it is a deep comfort to me.  I have something that is important to the health and well being of everyone, regardless of religion or spirituality. I have Faith.  I have faith that the forces of our unimaginably vast universe are intertwined and laced together in a brilliant, infinite quilt.  And I have faith that no being in that expanse is too small to not be included in the pattern.

I am describing what myself and many people call God, though "God" has a different meaning and relationship that is unique to each of us throughout history. And in that sense this is God's production. There are possibilities everywhere, little projects that, though each may seem more important as we grow older, are just as significant as learning to tie your shoes. 

my labor day delight

This is really nice so I just thought I'd write something stupid about it.
Quiet day at work. Cleaned my office (love being able to see my desk from time to time). Wrapped up a few loose ends. Left at 3. Made a veggie sandwich at home. Pulled on a pair of jeans. Plotted a cheesy dinner for two. Opened the blinds in my bedroom. Sat down on the bed with a ginger ale and the 787 pg Stephen King I just acquired that Rob says I will undoubtedly finish in a day and a half (hah). The sun quietly slipped behind the clouds and now it's thundering.
Thank you dear universe.

Is this what "full of piss and vinegar" feels like?

Today seems to be one of those days that, from the time I got out of bed, every other moment has been so irritating that I find myself fantasizing about ditching it all and heading for some completely unknown region of the world. And (clears throat)  it's just 9:30am

And no, to anyone (any of those random hackers because no one really reads this pathetic blog anymore) who reads that and says "oooh, must be PMS" (another idiotic sexist peeve of mine)...it's not. Sometimes I just get tired of living peacefully in the bureaucratic nightmare that life has become.

The point when I realized that perhaps I should reign in my nearly seething chagrin (just for a moment, mind you) is when I listened to a voice mail from the family member of my favorite resident at work.

Background: as an unofficial part of my job (which today ranked 1st, 3rd and 4th on CNNs ten jobs with high rates of depression) I seem to be the only one here (not the business office, not the billing office, not the administrator and certainly not the office manager) who has ever even attempted to effectively navigate the completely senseless world of INSURANCE (Lord help me here...I feel it bubbling up again). And one kind of insurance is Long Term Care insurance...

[that every relatively healthy 50 year old should consider purchasing now even though healthcare is on a grisly downward spiral and it is reasonable to predict that even if you did invest in an insurance plan they could belly-up, bail-out and leave you more haggard and neglected of basic human rights than you would have been were you actually born into homelessness]....but I digress

Long Term Care insurance is a kind of insurance that you purchase when you are young and healthy to ensure that, if the time comes that you need a private caregiver in your home, or assisted living, or memory care or nursing home care (we in Person-Centered Care call it "clinical" or "skilled" care to avoid the negative stereotype of "the home"), that you will have assistance with paying for these services instead of being financially drained,  forced to forgo your home, your assets and your childrens inheritance in order to qualify for a state Medicaid program (that may or may not exist when you get to that age) that will require you to stay in a "home" that smells like urine and death and is run by overworked untrained and underpaid staff because the government, and society in general, does not care one bit about our elders who paved the way for us while we acted like complete loons raising our children to be selfish, overweight, ignorant, undisciplined and entitled little shits who live by the NIMBY mentality

ahem

So I fax monthly invoices and three or four special forms the LTC Insurance companies for our residents. And this morning I had a voice mail from a daughter who said their insurance still had not paid for June, July and...one would assume, August. So I go back through the file. Yep, there's the FIRST confirmation for June and July, and there is the SECOND time I faxed it when the daughter came to me the first time, and there's the confirmation for August.....hmm...oh, and look, there is documentation of the phone call I made on August 10th following up to make sure the faxes were indeed received by the correct department (a phone call that was never returned)......I think it fair to say that it just doesn't seem the problem is on our end. So I re-fax all the invoices today. And here is where I momentarily lost control. The fax cover sheet for starters, where I made it clear (in a professional yet firm manner) that this was their issue...then I also included all the confirmations from all the faxes I had already sent,

then, out of spite (which  actually made me feel really...really pleased with myself), I faxed them the fax confirmation of the fax I sent today....

At that point I had a mildly frightening vision of me spending the rest of my day in completely uncontrolled frothing-of-the-mouth-craziness, faxing confirmation of confirmation of confirmation and then before 5pm sending a copy of all of it to their office in a FedEx overnight package. Did I unknowingly slip into the cast of Office Space? So I tore myself away and decided some blogging therapy may do me some good.

Thank you little blog. I do, actually, feel much better.

Now, onto my next victim.....mwahahahaah.

when no one is looking, there it is

She is staying with us in the healthcare wing

For stronger lungs and legs

They called me to ask for a room and said

She will be a good patient, but her husband is strange

And I said yes and offered a bed

She is 86 and he comes every day at lunch

For a week now

Today as I walked toward the exit for lunch of my own

He was signing in at the visitor register

Wearing his usual hardware store trucker cap

Khaki shorts, tube socks and old tennis shoes

Holding a grocery bag in his left hand and signing in with the other

I noticed, gripped next to the bag handle, a splash of red

Three tiny sprigs of red snapdragon

And in that instant I felt a deep throb

A penetrating ache

A wish that I could fold quietly into the moment when he,

Turning from his path to the car

Bent into her garden

pulled his pocket knife from his shorts

and clipped those three precious stems

to curl up and live inside

a simple, pure gesture of love

I suppose I am strange too

Really?

Motorcyclist Dies On Ride Protesting Helmet Law In New York 

ONONDAGA, N.Y. -- Police say a motorcyclist participating in a protest ride against helmet laws in upstate New York died after he flipped over the bike's handlebars and hit his head on the pavement.

Full Article

(melancholy jazz guitar...sound of pigeons flapping)

sitting here on the floor watching a movie, i felt something on my leg.

you know the feeling.

at first, you try to talk yourself out of it. it's just a loose strand of hair. it's just a twitch in your skin. it's just a piece of the wisteria you brought in last night. pieces of it fell all over the floor on the way to the table.

this went on for seconds. maybe even a full minute.

then finally i gave into the urge to brush it away. and of ALL the times i've brushed something away that wasn't really there. of all the times it was a loose hair, a twitch, a string from the hem of my clothes. i didn't even hurry to do it because i knew it was nothing.

but this time it was a little spider.

ugh.

well, i'm not sure exactly what it was because as soon as my hand touched it i went into controlled bug-panic mode. smash and flick. you know the one. i looked on my rug for what it might have been, then noticed a smudge on my fingers, and a smudge on my leg. so i assumed it was a spider, but it could have been any soft-bodied little bug.and it was little.  i figured it was one of those teeny little spiders that you find on flowers you picked in the yard. the tiny little green ones. or the little black ones. hopefully not the little black ones that jump AT you when cornered. those are just creepy.

well. the flowers are now on the patio.

so now it's getting up on 9pm. and all i can think about is that little fact and figure that used to go around. probably still does....it goes something like "the average human inadvertently eats about 6 spiders a year while sleeping" or something like that.

i mean, how the heck am i supposed to sleep tonight? or ever for that matter?

which also brings to mind that yesterday when i met our future landlady at the house we're renting. i was signing the lease and chatting happily, trying to let her know just how really really really glad i am we found that house. and i noticed a very small baby silverfish on the glasstop stove.

yes. a silverfish. i HATE silverfish. they are the one creature i simply cannot fathom why it did not go extinct with the dinosaurs. or even sooner. they are dreadful!

and the absolute restraint it took for me to see that little silverfish and NOT squeal and squash it with the paper i had in my hand? i didn't even casually put the agreement on it and lean down really hard. then it would have gotten all over the nice neat lease agreement. so what did i do? i IGNORED it. impossible! but i did it.

and then what. what kind of karma do i draw? a freakin spider on my leg.

(throws hands in air)

What a great evening was had last night! I headed to my parents for the weekend and Wayne took us out to the River Club for a spectacular dinner during Lobsterfest. Good food, good wine, my wonderful family. A girl couldn't ask for much more :) And thanks to everyone at CRC for a really memorable evening.

the day of the three-leafed shamrock

at some point I am going to learn to tap into my psychic abilities and do something really impressive with them....like pirate the cure for cancer, find the path to world peace....and...of course...win the lottery

until then I suppose I will continue to have these "I told me so" moments/days/years....sigh

but I'll start with the good stuff

Rob flew down last Thursday night. at first I was worried because his plane was delayed in Charleston due to high winds in Atlanta (the few curses of living near a tiny airport...tiny planes) and missed his connection to Brunswick, so instead of counting on him being able to find Delta sponsored transportation from JAX to here at midnight, I opted for the surest solution, drove down and picked him up (aren't I sweet?)


Then our weekend proceeded as follows. Friday: me to work, Rob's interview #1, walk on the beach, shopping in Brunswick, Oysters at Coastal Kitchen, Thai dinner with Liv and Serge then to her dad's bar for a few brewskies, home, bed, Saturday: make breakfast and send Rob to interview #2, veg at the apt until he returns with great news of a good job offer, go for a drive, lunch of barbecue sandwiches at Beachcomber, browse around a shop or two, return home and watch a movie, get ready for dinner, have wine with my friends Graham and Adelaide who live at Marsh's Edge, have the most fantastic birthday dinner at Delaneys, go to a party at Robs future boss's house, hear a great band there, go to Village Pub for more drinks and dancing to live music, in late, crash, Sunday: Rob up early being domestic, washing clothes and dishes and trying to roust me from the covers, go to the pool for a few hours, swim a bit, have ameri-mex lunch at Bubbas across the street and then go for a ride to look for houses...that was when we found this:

which is where we'll be living as of April 1st :)

later we went and heard the band from saturday night play at Locos down the street. met more people, i saw some folks i knew. it was a good weekend. Monday morning he flew out of brunswick bright and early. Early enough for me to catch a nap before going into work.


So, in the midst of all the glee, it was Sunday that I started getting nervous. I'm the kind of person who starts to worry when things are going too well. I am the one who knows that statistically if I drive 115 miles to work and back every day on a major interstate through a major city that at some point I'm going to get into a car accident (so I moved to a tiny island where I live 5 miles from work...very nice).

Right. So I was nervous. Worried. Fretful. I went into work Monday morning and the first thing that happens is the business office/HR girl comes in a slaps a random drug screen on my desk. And I'm like, well I don't use drugs so whatever, but then I start to worry, what if they mix mine up with someone elses? what if it's a bad test and I'm positive for everything? what if what if what if. I regularly drive myself nuts with those bastard words.

Then it dawned on me. My birthday was this week. Something was bound to happen on my birthday. But my birthday came and went and was GOOD. damnit. I even told the executive director about my drug screen fears so all day he teased me that I was getting fired for a positive result. But no, my birthday, which was yesterday, was wonderful. I have some NICE people I work with. Everyone was so kind! Olivia even brought a cake when we met for lunch. Then we went out for cocktails and dinner at Ocean Lodge and trivia at Village Pub.

I gotta say, it was a good day.

So I should've known that my luck would run out. And what better time for that to happen than...well...St. Pattys Day. If this is the luck of the Irish, I'll take the rain.

The first thing I realize is that I paid my mortgage twice this month. Thats great for my principal, and not great for my bank account. The second stupid thing I do is come home mid-day, using the work car b/c I had to drop off a coworker at a home eval, and left MY car keys at the apartment, so when I left work at the end of the day, no car keys. But, as bigDaddymitch would say...lets go back to this right here. While at work I decide to look for a washer and dryer on craigslist b/c I dont want to pay to have mine moved from the Newnan house. I find a set close by for cheep! Call him, he's good, will meet me later at the house, owner is cool with them going in a little early...all is well. So when I discover my keys are MIA I borrowed a coworkers car, met the guy at the house and when it was time to pay up, I realized I had grabbed my savings account deposit book instead of my check book. Fudge. So, I say, follow me to the bank and if you have change I'll give you cash. Which is obviously fine with him. So off we go to the bank. I pull out of the drive, onto Ocean Blvd and make the right turn onto Frederica to go to Suntrust. A few hundred feet under my tires and I hear something slide off my roof and catch a glimpse of my CELL PHONE as it flits off the trunk and splashes in pieces on the road where there is 6 o'clock 55mph traffic in full swing. Defeated, I pull into Suntrust, give Rick his cash and dart back to the scene of the accident to pick up the remains of my phone, praying the sim card isn't demolished....but...but...theres no phone! No trace! Nowhere! as if someone saw it from the sidewalk and snatched it up! I drove back and forth 3 times and was stunned.

And now. Now I don't know if I can count today as the balancing of all that good stuff over the weekend and birthday, or if this is just the beginning of the end....sigh.

So if anyone is trying to reach me (haha. yea right. my phone rings three times a day and its always rob...oh wait, sorry Andy, since you read these, hello and thanks for calling me. You were the last one I talked to before my phone was the victim of a smash and grab! and it might be a few days before I can call you back, btw)...I'm not just being antisocial. Not this time, at least ;)

oh my. Look at the time. And I've chattered my fool head off.

so I will drift off to sleep hoping that today was the worst of it. It could've been even worse, I know, but I literally felt like I had a gray cloud following me around all day. Also i felt like I was possibly developing a case of the dismentias...hehe. And, well, me and dementia fears are aWHOLEnother story...

now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my brain to sweep (the cobwebs from, that is)

night night little blogosphere.

There's a town called Don't-You-Worry
on the banks of River Smile;
where the Cheer-Up and Be-Happy
bloom sweetly all the while

Where the Never-Crumble flower
blooms beside the fragrant Try
and the Ne'er-Give-Up and Patience
point their faces to the sky

In the Valley of Contentment
in the Province of I-Will
you will find this lovely city
at the foot of No-Fret Hill.

There are thoroughfares delightful
in this very charming town;
and on every hand are shade trees
named The-Very-Seldom-Frown

Rustic benches quite enticing
you'll find scattered here and there
and to each a vine is clinging
called The Frequent Earnest Prayer

Everybody there is happy
and is singing all the while
In this town of Don't-You-Worry
On the banks of River Smile

March could be darker. Catapult.

my evening began...oh, around 4:30 when I lost interested in directly "work related" activity (oh wait, that was on and off all day)....but mainly when I logged into CNN and read the article about the dog who survived euthanasia. aw.

anyway, i suppose it may have sent my mind in exploratory mode, because this is how my evening went

despite my raging 72hr stomach bug, i had a hankering for a glass of red wine. and i refuse to open any of the other bottles i have at my house because...well, they're too danged valuable and shall only be opened at a time when i can share them with others who will appreciate the event as much or more than i do....or i should say just plainly--with others--because i dont tend to hang out with snobs or wine critics. so it will always be enjoyed if i have anything to do with it.

(even if it were a dreadful bottle of wine, wouldn't we just open something else and enjoy that? and then years later say, "hey, do you remember that time we opened that $220 bottle of wine and it was TERRIBLE?...man we had so much fun that night!")

exactly...so

i went to the store and bought a bottle of pinot noir (my fav) which was also on sale at the local winndixie. drove home and tossed together a small meal of cous cous & pine nuts and sauteed garlic and spinach

sat down to assess my mail situation. bills and advertisements. pushed them aside to assess my web mail situation. bills and advertisements--not unusual....bills, bill reminders, bank balance alerts and PND updates that i never read....there are a rare few regular emailers i have kept contact with. i guess its how i've crafted my life up to this point. it seems every time i have an opportunity to liquidate and minimize, i do it to the full extent. i only half meant to. i guess. and since i did take on a major relocation last year i guess it's normal (in my world) for some social fallout (<--fallout being a word I decided to work into my normal vocabulary tonight)

there was a random facebook update in my inbox, so out of sheer morbid curiosity i clicked on it and logged into my homepage and thanks to a high school class mate i was barely ever involved with, i clicked on an asteroid "end of days" style YouTube link, that referred to some asteroid that would barely miss the earth, oh, 2029 or something and then cause some kind of earth destruction in 2030-something....i dont remember. but i did google "asteroid-earth collisions" and came up with "impact events" (dang good phrase for it) so i began to read about that on wikipedia. and you know how it goes when you start reading on wikipedia. all these interesting linked words are all over the place. so my "impact events" search lead to "nuclear explosions" which lead to "volcanic eruptions" which led to "natural disasters" which led to "wild fires" which made me musedly wonder why pollution isn't a natural disaster....and reminded me of the river in ohio that caught on fire, cuyahuga, so that was my next search, which led to a brief review of REM's latest album Collapse Into Now
and then i was reminded that last time i checked my iPod i didn't have all my REM on there, so I began fingering through the collection of cds I still have and pulling the ones i thought I was missing.

This also led me to again acknowledge one of the rem TAPES i have saved, over the years.

and...I have only three tapes now. They are as follows.  In order of receipt.

Single: Donna Lewis- I love you always forever (from first official boyfriend. ever) 1996
Soundtrack: Music from and inspired by the City of Angels Motion Picture 1998
Mix Tape: REM Live 1981 and Live 1986 (which I believe I was given sometime in 1999 or 2000 or later)

so, for nostalgias sake, i drug out my Panasonic XBS jambox....which my mother gave me for christmas or birthday sometime in junior high...and has a cd player and a 2 tape deck but no longer will record tape to tape....sigh

and now I am uploading the last of my REM to my computer, who's memory is almost full (because I've had this wonderful little laptop since 2004)....thinking....how did I not have Monster on here? duh. and thumbing through the album art, the lyrics, the titles--I can't help but smile...there are very specific memories all wrapped up in every song. and I wasn't even alive for some of them.

ok. upload complete. goodnight little island

Bloomers

 

Above is what used to be a very small and shriveled Aloe plant that I salvaged last summer from the "death rack" at Home Depot. I consider this a rather nice "thank you"....I've never had an aloe that bloomed before! And today I noticed that another little succulent I just got a few weeks ago has put out a bloom bud. Spring has sprung :) 

weird things that happen when you live in an apartment

Today, for the first time in my life, I was knowingly spied upon....by a little old lady.

I live in a second floor apt and my big living room windows give a glorious view of the parking lot and a few of the steps that lead up to the three dwelling levels, including the one I live on. So I was sitting at my computer checking my email this morning around 9:30 and had just opened all the windows because it is another day in paradise, and because the morning sun prevents anyone from easily seeing into my apartment at that time of day....I didn't really notice her until she paused on the steps. An elderly lady carrying a bag of groceries. She had stopped and was peering up, which is what I noticed out of the corner of my eye and just to the left of my laptop screen. Then she went on up the stairs, stopped and walked to the edge of the landing and STARED for probably a whole MINUTE. I mean, who the hell does that? I knew she couldn't see me very well (of course I wouldn't just have the windows wide open without having at some point inspected the view...so I knew this was a truth)...but she sure was trying. And I suddenly felt....guilty? What the heck was I doing that was so suspicious?...so suspicious that it warranted a minutes worth of blatant peering?

I ignored her and went on typing my email, clearly aware she was looking at me. And she eventually moved along to her apartment. I tried to listen to which one she went into so that one day if I met her in the parking lot or on the landing I can go out of my way to say "HI" to my nosey neighbor.

A little later as I left to meet Liv for breakfast I too paused on the stairs to take a gander at my windows....wondering what could be so interesting. I settled on the fact that she must have been very curious about the staghorn fern and rosemary plant I have sitting on the glass-top table at the window (where my laptop also lives)....my brain accepted so I let it go, plotting to blog about it later.

After breakfast/lunch I drove around looking for a house to rent when Rob moves here in April. Then I came home and walked over to the pool to get a little sun and read...sat there for an hour and a half and then headed back to the safety and seclusion of my little abode.

On the walk back to the apartment I agreed to try to blog at least every other day....that's my initial commitment. It may change to...oh...once a week....or, considering the lapse between last nights and the one prior to, every 6 months. Haha.

Happy gorgeous Sunday on St. Simons :) A very lovely day indeed.

THE MIST

Around 3:30 pm today I rode with Olivia to pick up my car--my honda (all 309k miles of her) who just received a new set of tires and new oil, and new wiper blades (Merry Christmas ole Betty)--in Brunswick (the mainland). On the drive home, as I drove over the causeway to St. Simons, I noticed what I was sure was smoke...lingering over the water and in the trees on the island. The closer I got to my home the more worried I became that something big was on fire....my apartment complex? (wait...I turned off the iron, the clothes had already stopped drying....the vacuum wouldn't just spontaneously combust would it?...oh God....did I renew my renters insurance this year?...and....Stella!)...I could already see my valiant launch into the flames to retrieve my feline.

The apartment was not on fire, much to my relief. And no sirens or lights flashing anywhere, no-one running in the direction of the action...hmmmh. oh well. So I dropped off a few things and went back out to zip over to the grocery...and in the minutes I had been inside the smoke had thickened, but now I could tell it wasn't smoke, it was fog...but not just fog, it was mist (Dad, forgive me for not knowing the difference right off, I know you are slapping a proverbial hand to your forehead, but at the moment I plead ignorance)....very heavy mist, fog, water vapor, whatever it is supposed to be called....blowing around like smoke and wetting my face as it brushed by.

I always get a little creeped out when the fog invades the island. I plot how I will bunker in my apartment and last out the creatures that are sure to emerge from the thick white cloud rolling off the ocean and terrorize this small island....I have plenty of rice and cous cous, and several jugs of water...and beer....and wine....I would be good. Also living on the second floor I would hopefully avoid the creatures who preferred to sniff out only the ground level humans...and just in case, I have a 3 pack of wasp and hornet spray (hey, it worked in the story...and it shoots 30 feet...)

So the above pic is a view from across one of the lakes...err..ponds... at work--the last time the mist came.

I realize no one probably reads this anymore. I dont even come here often. But I felt inclined to blog today because it's just me here, I'm so rarely on the island I have become somewhat of an antisocial save for my 2 or 3 closest friends here (who, sadly, have lives of their own) so when a weekend rolls around that I can stay kerput, there is usually at least one night that I enjoy all to myself.

Tonight I thought it was gonna be one of those....I am out of Netflix, and my computer isn't new enough to stream video and I still am antiCable so I have no tele reception. But I did receive an invite to go to Tam's temporarily kidless house for girl time and a few beers...

...dare I venture into the mist?