Last night A came over after a weekend in Baltimore at what was apparently the wedding from hell. It was a hilarious story that included a bridal party with pom poms and the theme from Monday night football. That was nice, and then, this morning, after a lovely, calm 24 hours with only one dog and a calm, peaceful dog at that (except for the relentless barking, okay) I went to pick up the newly deballed Django at the clinic. They told me to keep him calm; in fact, the directions were quite specific: they said No Jumping, Running, Playing or Going Outside Except On a Leash. Well, sure. That sounds fine and dandy and other dogs were coming out all sad with their poor tummies towards the floor and walking gingerly to their cars.
Django bounced about 5 feet in the air at least 10 times in the 15 feet between the clinic door and the car. When he got home he bounced some more. I tried to gate him into M's room since there's less stuff in there than in any other room (M is going for a dark and minimalist approach to home decorating, apparently) but he just bounced right over the gate. There's no way, without heavy duty doggie downers, that Django is not going to Run, Jump and Play for the next 7 to 10 days. It's not possible.
So I didn't know quite what to do and while I was dithering around about this young M and then the school called to tell me that he needed to come home for a few hours because he didn't actually have an exam until 11:45. I called work and told them I'd be late and went and got him and brought him home by which point, the grand old hour of 9:15 a.m., I was exhausted.
In other news, a huge and gigantic rat nearly ran over my feet this afternoon in the courtyard between Pack Place, the Marble Slab ice cream shoppe and the New French Bar. So if you are prone to sitting out there in the lovely evenings to drink, you might want to consider that. Gaaaaaaaaaahh!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
project 365 #150 new house at twilight
Yesterday, I collapsed. I did nothing whatsoever on the new house - except sleep in it, heavily, and eat dinner - and then I took this one photo, which shows the beginnings of the funkifying process of the front yard, so that eventually it will be chock a block with odd stuff and flowers and flags and so on, so that small children are frightened and delighted and the neighborhood association sighs great mighty sighs of despair. Or so one hopes.
It was a damn good thing I got a good nights sleep, too, since I had to wake up at 6:30 this morning and walk the dogs without letting Django eat anything. I had never noticed before just how much random stuff Django generally eats on a walk, from stray Kleenex to grass (lots of grass) to god only knows what else. But I'm still feelng unfriendly towards Django - he got out of the fence again last night, of course, and barked at the people across the street with their dog and they were not happy about it because their dog is unfriendly and blah, stupid dogs anyway. So I figured if the piece of kleenex and a couple of stray grass blades in his belly make him die under the knife, well, that's karma. Anyway, then I got the laundry into the car (the plan today is that after work I'm going over to my mothers and then directly to the laundromat, oh happy day) and got showered and got M up and made coffee and got Django into the car where he perched precariously on top of the laundry in the back seat, barking, and then took M to the edge of his school so he could go off with my last $3 to get breakfast and then took Django to the clinic for his appointment where people ooohed and aaaahed over how cute he is and I felt evil and then, finally, got myself to work with a giant cup of coffee and a turkey sandwich from the Sisters McMullen for the staff meeting. All this by 8:45 a.m. Yeah.
It was a damn good thing I got a good nights sleep, too, since I had to wake up at 6:30 this morning and walk the dogs without letting Django eat anything. I had never noticed before just how much random stuff Django generally eats on a walk, from stray Kleenex to grass (lots of grass) to god only knows what else. But I'm still feelng unfriendly towards Django - he got out of the fence again last night, of course, and barked at the people across the street with their dog and they were not happy about it because their dog is unfriendly and blah, stupid dogs anyway. So I figured if the piece of kleenex and a couple of stray grass blades in his belly make him die under the knife, well, that's karma. Anyway, then I got the laundry into the car (the plan today is that after work I'm going over to my mothers and then directly to the laundromat, oh happy day) and got showered and got M up and made coffee and got Django into the car where he perched precariously on top of the laundry in the back seat, barking, and then took M to the edge of his school so he could go off with my last $3 to get breakfast and then took Django to the clinic for his appointment where people ooohed and aaaahed over how cute he is and I felt evil and then, finally, got myself to work with a giant cup of coffee and a turkey sandwich from the Sisters McMullen for the staff meeting. All this by 8:45 a.m. Yeah.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
project 365 #149: jodi catch and throw mojo
So it turns out that my pal S' new puppy, Mojo, who, as you will recall, came from my friend D's dog Cookiebob and her mesalliance with a miniature dachshund who belongs to the crazy lady next door to D up in Bat Cave, is a beer drinkin' dog par excellence. By which I mean, the dog is a lush and thus will fit right in at all our parties. S hosted a little get together on her back porch last night and Mojo kept knocking over beer bottles and lapping up the result. It took us a while to realize that he was doing it on purpose. When he started trotting off with cigarette packs in his little mouth we realized that the dog had a problem and that PETA would probably be after us forthwith. He's not a quiet, mellow drunk either: he got all rambunctious and started running in circles and trying to chew our shoes off our feet until K had to hold him out at arms length for a while.
Neither of my dogs have any interest whatsoever in drinking beer. Pity - it might mellow them out a bit. The dog fence is almost completely done and Django immediately scouted out the places where it isn't done and took off. Of course he's so dumb that he just runs wildly around to the front of the house and wiggles his ass all around like he does to be let in the front door, so it's not too bad. Tomorrow morning Django is going to the clinic. All you male blog readers had better sit down and cross your legs now - yup, he's going to have his balls cut off. (Say this at a party and watch all the guys cross their legs nervously. It never fails.) Hopefully this will calm some of his wandering and destructive tendencies - the little fuck had my reading glasses in his mouth last night and I'm tired of living in a house full of dog confetti.
Addendum: I went home for lunch and to let the dogs out. In the three hours since I had last seen Django, he had eaten (and shredded, and tossed all over the den:)
2 pairs of shoes - my flip flops and my sneakers
1 pillow - a nice one that I've had a long time
1 entire spindle of blank DVDs
1 small wooden box of rocks and crystals and, inexplicably, magnetic poetry
1 gourd bowl, perhaps my favorite gourd bowl that I ever made, that was up on a shelf.
He had started on a trash bag of wrapping paper but fortunately hadn't gotten that far into it. Now he's tied up again outside while I ponder, yet again, either giving a false name at the spay/neuter clinic tomorrow and just never picking him up or putting him on Craigslist as free to good home or dog torturing laboratory, whichever calls first. The neutering had better work some miracles or that dog is history.
Neither of my dogs have any interest whatsoever in drinking beer. Pity - it might mellow them out a bit. The dog fence is almost completely done and Django immediately scouted out the places where it isn't done and took off. Of course he's so dumb that he just runs wildly around to the front of the house and wiggles his ass all around like he does to be let in the front door, so it's not too bad. Tomorrow morning Django is going to the clinic. All you male blog readers had better sit down and cross your legs now - yup, he's going to have his balls cut off. (Say this at a party and watch all the guys cross their legs nervously. It never fails.) Hopefully this will calm some of his wandering and destructive tendencies - the little fuck had my reading glasses in his mouth last night and I'm tired of living in a house full of dog confetti.
Addendum: I went home for lunch and to let the dogs out. In the three hours since I had last seen Django, he had eaten (and shredded, and tossed all over the den:)
2 pairs of shoes - my flip flops and my sneakers
1 pillow - a nice one that I've had a long time
1 entire spindle of blank DVDs
1 small wooden box of rocks and crystals and, inexplicably, magnetic poetry
1 gourd bowl, perhaps my favorite gourd bowl that I ever made, that was up on a shelf.
He had started on a trash bag of wrapping paper but fortunately hadn't gotten that far into it. Now he's tied up again outside while I ponder, yet again, either giving a false name at the spay/neuter clinic tomorrow and just never picking him up or putting him on Craigslist as free to good home or dog torturing laboratory, whichever calls first. The neutering had better work some miracles or that dog is history.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
project 365 #148: ex house, view into dining room
It' snot getting any fucking easier and this new house is way too small and there aren't enough bookshelves and no mantel and nowhere to put all my things. It's hot and stifling and I'm sad; I'm homesick; I hate this. I hate moving. I hate having to move. I feel so sorry for myself right now; it's truly pathetic. The whole thing makes me feel like shit; like I'll never have anywhere nice again (probably won't; it was a pure-D lucky fluke) and I walk around downcast, jealous of everyone in a nice house. Shit. I hate being poor. I hate it so fucking much sometimes.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
project 365 #147: still life with petunias
Well, it's done. My mom and I and my friend D worked all day like crazed cleaning lady slaves and the old house is empty, still and immaculate. And me? I'm drained, exhausted, empty and far from immaculate, even if I did just take a shower. And I'm sad. It was so sad to look at the house so beautiful and shiningly clean, possibly cleaner than I've ever seen it, certainly cleaner than it was when I moved in 6 years ago (and obviously when I was living there it never got all that clean. . . ) and think, you know, wonderful, I have left a big beautiful house I loved for a small not so beautiful house that I just kind of like alright. It's sort of like leaving your husband, Johnny Depp, for Danny DeVito: just doesn't make a whole lot of sense. But there you have it and I'm trying very hard to remember that it's all good karma and moving is good for a person - shakes things up and all - and so on. You know, all the usual new age claptrap.
But I'm still sad.
But I'm still sad.
Friday, May 25, 2007
project 365 #145: voyage to the wrong planet
The moving schtick has ceased to be entertaining or funny, I know. I feel exactly the same way. I feel, in fact, like this hapless astronaut - I stepped off the Mars lander onto the wrong planet: the planet of predatory dinosaurs! Ah oooooga! Run away, men! Yeah, see, that dinosaur is The Moving Experience and that astronaut is, like, me, and that part where the black cloth is kind of falling down is, uh, symbolic of the way that shit is, like, falling down all the time. Get it? It's complex.
The end is kind of in sight though. Tonight I'm meeting my friend G at the old house (Yay G! He has a truck AND an allen wrench! Too bad he's already married!) to tear up Frankenbed and haul the last stuff over to the new house. Then, tomorrow, I'm meeting my mother, the Queen of Clean, at the old house where we will scrub and scrub all day and then that, god willin' and the creek don't rise, will be the end of that and I'll finally be able to fully turn my attention towards fitting all my useless, broken, silly, dirty junk into a house that's a good 300 square feet smaller than my other house. Yargh.
I wish I was going instead to this party in Boone that I was invited to or that I could just sit around on my ass and drink heavily all weekend with occasional breaks for hamburgers, as is my American right since time immemorial on Memorial day when we are supposed to remember the valiant dead but usually instead wax drunkenly maudlin about the ghosts of summers past when we were younger, thinner and less inhibited. Or just grill and drink beer and enjoy the mosquitos, either/or.
The end is kind of in sight though. Tonight I'm meeting my friend G at the old house (Yay G! He has a truck AND an allen wrench! Too bad he's already married!) to tear up Frankenbed and haul the last stuff over to the new house. Then, tomorrow, I'm meeting my mother, the Queen of Clean, at the old house where we will scrub and scrub all day and then that, god willin' and the creek don't rise, will be the end of that and I'll finally be able to fully turn my attention towards fitting all my useless, broken, silly, dirty junk into a house that's a good 300 square feet smaller than my other house. Yargh.
I wish I was going instead to this party in Boone that I was invited to or that I could just sit around on my ass and drink heavily all weekend with occasional breaks for hamburgers, as is my American right since time immemorial on Memorial day when we are supposed to remember the valiant dead but usually instead wax drunkenly maudlin about the ghosts of summers past when we were younger, thinner and less inhibited. Or just grill and drink beer and enjoy the mosquitos, either/or.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Stress
So I'm stressed again. There's too much to do and not enough hours in the day and, worst of all, I've progressed to that awful point where I'm frantically buying random stuff at Wal Mart. I hate Wal Mart and yet, it's just so damn convenient when you're moving and you need a pizza and a giant thing of coffee and more underwear and curtain rods and 8 lighters and a giant coil of rope because, you know, you're moving, and while you're at it you might as well buy 6 or 7 industrial sized things of soap because, if I have learned one thing during this move, it's that as god is my witness, I will never go soapless again.
Boxes still need to be unpacked and the garage is even more full of random shit than it was before and it was pretty full of random shit. The dregs and last bits of the move are the worst part: where you find stuff like your show jumping helmet from 5th grade and the wicker picnic basket that's been used maybe twice and that horrible assortment of unmatched wool gloves. All of them get shoved into a backpack or a duffel bag or a garbage bag or piled into an open box on top of the trifle bowl and the big trivet and the small camera tripod and the box gets hurled into the garage on top of the winter coats and the bridesmaid dress I wore in L's wedding in Baltimore, a million million light years ago. All this makes even venturing into the garage some kind of terrible exercise in nostalgia gone horribly wrong and there's that sinking feeling that every. single. one. of those boxes and bags is going to have to be unpacked and the contents organized and dealt with and put somewhere. Possibly a closet. Yet did I do anything last night? No. Nothing but drink beer, smoke, make strange Thai food (first dinner in the new house and not too terrible) and whine.
Also, I need a man. Yeah, but I mean a man with a truck, for just a few hours. A truck and an allen wrench (be still my quivering heart, a man with an allen wrench!) to finally take apart Frankenbed, which proved partially resistant to my best sledgehammering efforts and then help me get all the last bits of outdoor stuff, like tomato cages and trellises and Christmas reindeer and giant moving Halloween spiders, over to the new house. Tonight or tomorrow night would be very excellent, oh faithful reader who is reading this and has a truck. I'll be over there tonight scrubbing the house and tomorrow night, hopefully, I'll be getting the last bits and pieces out. If not tomorrow night, then definitely Saturday. Please?
Boxes still need to be unpacked and the garage is even more full of random shit than it was before and it was pretty full of random shit. The dregs and last bits of the move are the worst part: where you find stuff like your show jumping helmet from 5th grade and the wicker picnic basket that's been used maybe twice and that horrible assortment of unmatched wool gloves. All of them get shoved into a backpack or a duffel bag or a garbage bag or piled into an open box on top of the trifle bowl and the big trivet and the small camera tripod and the box gets hurled into the garage on top of the winter coats and the bridesmaid dress I wore in L's wedding in Baltimore, a million million light years ago. All this makes even venturing into the garage some kind of terrible exercise in nostalgia gone horribly wrong and there's that sinking feeling that every. single. one. of those boxes and bags is going to have to be unpacked and the contents organized and dealt with and put somewhere. Possibly a closet. Yet did I do anything last night? No. Nothing but drink beer, smoke, make strange Thai food (first dinner in the new house and not too terrible) and whine.
Also, I need a man. Yeah, but I mean a man with a truck, for just a few hours. A truck and an allen wrench (be still my quivering heart, a man with an allen wrench!) to finally take apart Frankenbed, which proved partially resistant to my best sledgehammering efforts and then help me get all the last bits of outdoor stuff, like tomato cages and trellises and Christmas reindeer and giant moving Halloween spiders, over to the new house. Tonight or tomorrow night would be very excellent, oh faithful reader who is reading this and has a truck. I'll be over there tonight scrubbing the house and tomorrow night, hopefully, I'll be getting the last bits and pieces out. If not tomorrow night, then definitely Saturday. Please?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Update
I found my camera. I haven't found my deoderant, perfume, moisturizer, rings, other comfortable shoe or my cel phone charger yet, but I have found the camera, M's baby clothes, piles of fabric I bought cheap at a warehouse outside Baltimore over a decade ago when I thought I might start sewing again, the pasta machine, with which I have been planning to make goat cheese and wild mushroom ravioli for more than seven years now although I have never yet used the damn thing, and a vitally important box full of small McDonalds type toys, lincoln logs, lego blocks and other stuff that noone has played with for five years. There's an American flag and an LL Bean boot on top of my refrigerator and I'm sleeping on my futon on the floor, which the dogs think is a fine innovation. I didn't shower or brush my teeth for four days and I nearly wept when I actually finally found the soap on Sunday so I could wash my hands.
Now, though, the shower curtain is up, even if it does keep sort of falling down. There are some curtains up even if some of them are duct taped together; there are piles of random stuff everywhere and I called my mother practically in tears yesterday which led to her spending all day in my kitchen, occasionally sighing "Oh, Felicity" in that way that she does but gods bless her, organizing the whole damn thing. The dishwasher leaks and the dogs are tied up in the backyard, since my friend D has still not posted with the damn fence. Granted, there is currently no way to call me: try email.
Tonight I have to go bust my old bed up for firewood. It will not go out of the room. No, we tried and tried but, see, I built that bed. It started as an Ikea bed and then it got moved a couple of times during which, naturally, I lost the special Ikea allen wrenches and the special Swedish bolt and nut thingies and so I just started using my own mad carpentry skillz on it. I am using mad in the British sense here, as in, "She's gone completely mad! Run, run away!" and anyway I kept right on using those carpentry skillz every time the bed collapsed, which was unfortunately not as often as one would hope due to my several years of singledom there, although, given that, was still more often than a bed should really collapse. At those times I would go to Lowes and haul more lumber home and start sawing and nailing and screwing (again, not in the fun way) the whole thing together. Well, what I achieved was Frankenbed, and Frankenbed must die, alas.
Tonight I'm going to go finish junking out the old house because they're taking the giant mountain of trash away tomorrow, or at least I hope they are, although it's not really my problem anymore since I was careful not to leave a forwarding address with any of my old neighbors so they won't be able to lynch me. There are probably 2 or 3 carloads of stuff still at the old house and I doubt I'll get it clean, which means another night or two spent over there scrubbing before it's done.
My whole body aches and I have bruises in places I didn't think could get bruised. I've learned new things about which muscles you use to lift boxes and this is knowledge I could conceivably have done well without. But there's food in the new fridge (also in the old fridge, although I don't think it really qualifies as "food" in the strictest sense of the word anymore) and the recycling people took a mountain of cardboard away and there are a few pieces of artwork up on the walls. The new house is not as cute or as big as the old house. It is just a house, not a love affair and that makes me kind of sad, but on the other hand the shower works and I found the soap.
Now, though, the shower curtain is up, even if it does keep sort of falling down. There are some curtains up even if some of them are duct taped together; there are piles of random stuff everywhere and I called my mother practically in tears yesterday which led to her spending all day in my kitchen, occasionally sighing "Oh, Felicity" in that way that she does but gods bless her, organizing the whole damn thing. The dishwasher leaks and the dogs are tied up in the backyard, since my friend D has still not posted with the damn fence. Granted, there is currently no way to call me: try email.
Tonight I have to go bust my old bed up for firewood. It will not go out of the room. No, we tried and tried but, see, I built that bed. It started as an Ikea bed and then it got moved a couple of times during which, naturally, I lost the special Ikea allen wrenches and the special Swedish bolt and nut thingies and so I just started using my own mad carpentry skillz on it. I am using mad in the British sense here, as in, "She's gone completely mad! Run, run away!" and anyway I kept right on using those carpentry skillz every time the bed collapsed, which was unfortunately not as often as one would hope due to my several years of singledom there, although, given that, was still more often than a bed should really collapse. At those times I would go to Lowes and haul more lumber home and start sawing and nailing and screwing (again, not in the fun way) the whole thing together. Well, what I achieved was Frankenbed, and Frankenbed must die, alas.
Tonight I'm going to go finish junking out the old house because they're taking the giant mountain of trash away tomorrow, or at least I hope they are, although it's not really my problem anymore since I was careful not to leave a forwarding address with any of my old neighbors so they won't be able to lynch me. There are probably 2 or 3 carloads of stuff still at the old house and I doubt I'll get it clean, which means another night or two spent over there scrubbing before it's done.
My whole body aches and I have bruises in places I didn't think could get bruised. I've learned new things about which muscles you use to lift boxes and this is knowledge I could conceivably have done well without. But there's food in the new fridge (also in the old fridge, although I don't think it really qualifies as "food" in the strictest sense of the word anymore) and the recycling people took a mountain of cardboard away and there are a few pieces of artwork up on the walls. The new house is not as cute or as big as the old house. It is just a house, not a love affair and that makes me kind of sad, but on the other hand the shower works and I found the soap.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Moved
First post from the new house, hallelujah. Or not. It's been the weekend from hell and it's nowhere near done yet and, worst of all, my camera has totally disappeared. I really, really hope it appears again soon and didn't somehow walk away during all the chaos and confusion. This has been the worst move ever. Really, seriously bad: I wasn't organized enough, the guys I hired from Craigslist didn't show up and my friend who was supposed to build me a dog fence hasn't yet. Next time I move I'm taking a whole week off work, hiring professionals and putting the dogs in a kennel. Also, shooting myself.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
AAARRGHH!!!
So, what with N leaving and my subsequent need to go to Broadways and get all emo on my friend J's long suffering shoulder and then the night before when something or other happened that has faded into the mists of time but surely did not involve putting tchtochkes into boxes, I'm way behind on the packing. And my new landlord has not called me back and I don't know when I can go get the keys to my new place which I totally want, like, right now so that tonight I can go over there and reassure myself that I do in fact have a place to live and it wasn't all some kind of weird elaborate scam. And the U-Haul people have not called me back either and the craigslist guy I emailed has also not called me about helping me move and I'm freaking out and did I mention that, naturally, o just naturally, it is of course that time of the month? My glasses are not ready yet and my Amazon order is delayed and Django already lost the new tag N & I made for him on Sunday.
So I really, like, NEEDED to have my current landlord call me around noon and tell me that he's selling the house I have lived in for the last six years, without, mind you, asking me if I wanted to buy it despite the fact that I offered to buy it a few years back. Not that I could afford it, but still. He could have asked. So he's selling the house which explains the slow parade of people who have been driving up and down the street peering at me the last few days but now, to add insult to injury, he wants to show it TONIGHT. And I tried and tried to get out of it because, jesus, my house looks like Tobacco Road only far worse right now because I'm a mess in every way and I haven't got time to pack AND clean and also I sort of gave up cleaning in February when I had my 19th nervous breakdown and then what with N living there and M being a teenage boy who prefers to live in ultimate squalor and me having decided that life is too short to clean, well. Plus the huge piles of trash everywhere since I'm sorting stuff by boxing things I want to keep and throwing things I don't want into piles. I tried and tried to say no but I failed and THEY ARE SHOWING THE DAMN HOUSE AT 7:30 TONIGHT even though, for chrissakes, the house will be all theirs a fucking week from today but no, that is not soon enough. So I ran home for one hour around noon and my friend S, (I really do have the best friends in the whole world; I am not worthy) came over and washed dishes while I frantically swept floors and threw clothes and sheets and stuff into a pile and discovered that Django, who I had locked into the house this morning since he's gotten utterly brazen about breezing through the fence and touring the neighborhood, had taken it upon himself to shred a box of records - fortunately, he had so far mostly only eaten the box and a corner of The Association, Windy, which I very likely will never listen to again anyway if I ever even have since I got it for a quarter on a street corner - so I had to clean that up too and then let him out, at which point he disappeared, which led to incoherent shrieking on my part and then when he finally came back I tied him up in the backyard and came dashing back to work, since I had to take the desk at the museum this afternoon, argh, grrrr, meaning that I won't be able to leave the museum for the rest of the day even to smoke or pee. I cannot believe this but it's happening; I'm furious, my head hurts and I think I might be losing my voice.
MOVING SUCKS. PEOPLE MOVING AWAY SUCKS. THIS WHOLE THING FUCKING SUCKS!
So I really, like, NEEDED to have my current landlord call me around noon and tell me that he's selling the house I have lived in for the last six years, without, mind you, asking me if I wanted to buy it despite the fact that I offered to buy it a few years back. Not that I could afford it, but still. He could have asked. So he's selling the house which explains the slow parade of people who have been driving up and down the street peering at me the last few days but now, to add insult to injury, he wants to show it TONIGHT. And I tried and tried to get out of it because, jesus, my house looks like Tobacco Road only far worse right now because I'm a mess in every way and I haven't got time to pack AND clean and also I sort of gave up cleaning in February when I had my 19th nervous breakdown and then what with N living there and M being a teenage boy who prefers to live in ultimate squalor and me having decided that life is too short to clean, well. Plus the huge piles of trash everywhere since I'm sorting stuff by boxing things I want to keep and throwing things I don't want into piles. I tried and tried to say no but I failed and THEY ARE SHOWING THE DAMN HOUSE AT 7:30 TONIGHT even though, for chrissakes, the house will be all theirs a fucking week from today but no, that is not soon enough. So I ran home for one hour around noon and my friend S, (I really do have the best friends in the whole world; I am not worthy) came over and washed dishes while I frantically swept floors and threw clothes and sheets and stuff into a pile and discovered that Django, who I had locked into the house this morning since he's gotten utterly brazen about breezing through the fence and touring the neighborhood, had taken it upon himself to shred a box of records - fortunately, he had so far mostly only eaten the box and a corner of The Association, Windy, which I very likely will never listen to again anyway if I ever even have since I got it for a quarter on a street corner - so I had to clean that up too and then let him out, at which point he disappeared, which led to incoherent shrieking on my part and then when he finally came back I tied him up in the backyard and came dashing back to work, since I had to take the desk at the museum this afternoon, argh, grrrr, meaning that I won't be able to leave the museum for the rest of the day even to smoke or pee. I cannot believe this but it's happening; I'm furious, my head hurts and I think I might be losing my voice.
MOVING SUCKS. PEOPLE MOVING AWAY SUCKS. THIS WHOLE THING FUCKING SUCKS!
project 365 #137: nate leaving
Well, N's gone. The hours between 5:00, when I got off work, and 9:00, when we put him on the bus, were possibly the longest hours of my life. They went on for like 10,000 years; I mean, empires rose and fell, religions were born and died - the world changed. And not for the better.
In the last two days he cleaned out the basement and the shed and the yard; he worked like a dog to help me move and so I don't grudge him missing the Saturday big move thing at all. And I knew he was going to leave eventually but. But of course, it's much harder to handle when it actually happens than you think it would be. I suggested, this morning, a lot of ridiculous things and he said, "Don't do that. That would be emo." He's right. I won't be emo, although I really, really want to be so emo right now that it would embarrass an emu, but I won't. I hope he finds what he's looking for. Or figures out what he's looking for, which is what, really, we all want to do.
In the last two days he cleaned out the basement and the shed and the yard; he worked like a dog to help me move and so I don't grudge him missing the Saturday big move thing at all. And I knew he was going to leave eventually but. But of course, it's much harder to handle when it actually happens than you think it would be. I suggested, this morning, a lot of ridiculous things and he said, "Don't do that. That would be emo." He's right. I won't be emo, although I really, really want to be so emo right now that it would embarrass an emu, but I won't. I hope he finds what he's looking for. Or figures out what he's looking for, which is what, really, we all want to do.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
project 365 #136: new house
This is the house I will be moving into this weekend. It's a time of huge change around here on every level: N is leaving tonight. I will miss him horribly and even though I know he needs to go, needs to get out into the world and do a whole lot of various stuff and have adventures and so on and I support him totally in this - still. It will be hard coming home without him there. Even though I'll soon - so soon, and I'm not fucking packed yet - be coming home to a house where he's never been (and that's for a reason) still. My family is diminishing; A is off in her new house and now N will be states away and it will be just me and M and the dogs, and we will all be lonely. When M goes off for his summer, which he will do, then it will just be me.
And Theo barking and Django, eating my goddamn underwear. I'm down to three pairs; he ate my favorite, sexy yet comfortable, pair yesterday. And he ate my fucking Danskos, and so now I have no comfortable kick around in shoes except boots and no underwear and no time to replace any of these items. It's a good thing I have dogs or I might get bored.
And Theo barking and Django, eating my goddamn underwear. I'm down to three pairs; he ate my favorite, sexy yet comfortable, pair yesterday. And he ate my fucking Danskos, and so now I have no comfortable kick around in shoes except boots and no underwear and no time to replace any of these items. It's a good thing I have dogs or I might get bored.
Monday, May 14, 2007
project 365 #135: peony bud with ants
The house has figured out that I'm moving and in retaliation things are starting to break down. I've seen this process before: the house gets all mad at you when you plan to leave, or maybe it's depressed, or maybe, like most of us, it produces this toxic mixture of sorrow and fury that it trots out at the least hint of change. Whichever it is, I'm terrified, because I'm watching the last few remnants of my security deposit go swirling away down the drain with the broken mirror and the round thingie that goes around the thermostat thingy and the ominous sudden murmuring of the refrigerator. That's another reason why I have to move as fast as possible; the other reason being, of course, that if I give myself 2 weeks to move I won't do anything about it for the first week anyway, so might as well freak out completely and all at once.
Still, it's difficult to concentrate on work and homework and, for chrissakes laundry right now, let alone feeding everyone. Everyone complains about vegetarian chili made from all the stuff that hasn't been eaten yet and cornbread anyway and does not understand that I am not buying groceries simply to move them across West Asheville a few days later. Also, the dogs shredded a box across my bed in what is either an attempt to help "Wow she sure likes cardboard boxes right now! Let's give her a hand by chewing one up on the bed!" or hinder. "This is one box you won't be filling up, lady. Bwah ha ha ha! Now you cannot change things!" Whichever; I still have a pile of lovely damp shredded cardboard all over my bed and that doesn't even address the complex tactical maneouver that I am trying to figure out at the moment: to wit, how to make sure I have clean sheets on my bed for my first night in the new house, which may be impossible. I'm also beginning to get all choked up and teary eyed about getting rid of so many books and even self pitying statements of doom like, "You don't deserve those many books anyway, Fliss. Huge libraries are for the rich people who get to own houses and you? No books for you! Get back to your dumpster with a torn up Archie comic, scum of the proletariat!" don't seem to be helping much. Although they do, a bit, because then I laugh and toss another book into the going away box with wild abandon, a sob, a swig of beer and a little, muttered curse.
Then I bitch for a while about the goddamn missing tape gun. Which is what I'm going to go do right now.
Still, it's difficult to concentrate on work and homework and, for chrissakes laundry right now, let alone feeding everyone. Everyone complains about vegetarian chili made from all the stuff that hasn't been eaten yet and cornbread anyway and does not understand that I am not buying groceries simply to move them across West Asheville a few days later. Also, the dogs shredded a box across my bed in what is either an attempt to help "Wow she sure likes cardboard boxes right now! Let's give her a hand by chewing one up on the bed!" or hinder. "This is one box you won't be filling up, lady. Bwah ha ha ha! Now you cannot change things!" Whichever; I still have a pile of lovely damp shredded cardboard all over my bed and that doesn't even address the complex tactical maneouver that I am trying to figure out at the moment: to wit, how to make sure I have clean sheets on my bed for my first night in the new house, which may be impossible. I'm also beginning to get all choked up and teary eyed about getting rid of so many books and even self pitying statements of doom like, "You don't deserve those many books anyway, Fliss. Huge libraries are for the rich people who get to own houses and you? No books for you! Get back to your dumpster with a torn up Archie comic, scum of the proletariat!" don't seem to be helping much. Although they do, a bit, because then I laugh and toss another book into the going away box with wild abandon, a sob, a swig of beer and a little, muttered curse.
Then I bitch for a while about the goddamn missing tape gun. Which is what I'm going to go do right now.
OKAY, This is Where I Beg
Ah, friends. Wonderful, wonderful friends who I cherish so much and who are so important to me and for whom I do all kinds of terrific friendly helpful things, never asking for anything (well, not asking for much, or maybe just beer) in return - until now. Now, I need you. Now I am going to beg and plead shamelessly. Yes, it is that dreaded moment that you have all been, uh, dreading: the moment when I Ask You To Help Me Move.
I am moving on Saturday, May 19. I have reserved a U-Haul truck and I am busily boxing stuff and throwing junk away and organizing and planning and I have put an ad up on Craigslist looking for a couple of paid guys to help as well - this offer is also open, y'all - but as we all know, the more the, if not merrier, than certainly less grueling. And if I manage to get some paid people, then they can do the really heavy stuff. So. FREE PIZZA AND BEER, Y'ALL! It will be FUN! Noonish to sixish, Saturday. From one end of West Asheville to the other - please, please, please come and help me move. Email me for directions.
I am moving on Saturday, May 19. I have reserved a U-Haul truck and I am busily boxing stuff and throwing junk away and organizing and planning and I have put an ad up on Craigslist looking for a couple of paid guys to help as well - this offer is also open, y'all - but as we all know, the more the, if not merrier, than certainly less grueling. And if I manage to get some paid people, then they can do the really heavy stuff. So. FREE PIZZA AND BEER, Y'ALL! It will be FUN! Noonish to sixish, Saturday. From one end of West Asheville to the other - please, please, please come and help me move. Email me for directions.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
project 365 #134: mothers day
I totally forgot it was Mother's Day. I woke up early and felt fine, if hungry, so I started making this elaborate greasy breakfast. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that I had one of those elaborate creeping hangovers that just gets worse throughout the day (stealth hangovers. So bitterly unfair.) and the greasy breakfast was perhaps not quite the ticket. So I sensibly went back to bed from whence my daughter rousted me, small pot of snapdragons in hand, annoyed that I had already done the breakfast thing. And her boyfriend mowed the front lawn, which was wonderful.
Still, I've been too hungover to accomplish anything much today, although N and I did go over to the Brevard Road super gigantic ultra pet store where it turned out they were having one of those adoptathon things. There was a friendly love of a red bone hound there with a happy, floppy hound face and I knew that he should come home with me but somehow, although it was tough, I resisted. I also resisted the Maine coon and the sad kitten in the cage and even the geckos, anoles and iguanas, although I want one and for some strange reason have recently decided that I need more lizards in my life. But I did get Django a new collar and tag and some expensive cable to tie him up (he breezes through the fence with the greatest of ease and this must end.) And I got Theo a new tag, too, so he wouldn't feel left out, with the new address on it. Something about writing the new address on dog tags makes it all so official and I can't believe that I wasted a packing day moping around being bleary. Bah.
I did go over to my mother's - my younger brother had asked me to pick up some flowers for her for Mother's Day & I also got her a big white petunia. It's damn near impossible to get flowers at 5:00 on Mother's Day evening, let me tell you. They were totally out at Earth Fare and I had to go to Ingles, where I got the last flowers in the store. One of these days I'm going to open a Procrastination Palace that specializes in last minute holiday appropriate stuff. I'll be open from 5:00 pm to midnight and sell all kinds of weird shit. It'll be great and a new and novel way to lose vast sums of money.
Still, I've been too hungover to accomplish anything much today, although N and I did go over to the Brevard Road super gigantic ultra pet store where it turned out they were having one of those adoptathon things. There was a friendly love of a red bone hound there with a happy, floppy hound face and I knew that he should come home with me but somehow, although it was tough, I resisted. I also resisted the Maine coon and the sad kitten in the cage and even the geckos, anoles and iguanas, although I want one and for some strange reason have recently decided that I need more lizards in my life. But I did get Django a new collar and tag and some expensive cable to tie him up (he breezes through the fence with the greatest of ease and this must end.) And I got Theo a new tag, too, so he wouldn't feel left out, with the new address on it. Something about writing the new address on dog tags makes it all so official and I can't believe that I wasted a packing day moping around being bleary. Bah.
I did go over to my mother's - my younger brother had asked me to pick up some flowers for her for Mother's Day & I also got her a big white petunia. It's damn near impossible to get flowers at 5:00 on Mother's Day evening, let me tell you. They were totally out at Earth Fare and I had to go to Ingles, where I got the last flowers in the store. One of these days I'm going to open a Procrastination Palace that specializes in last minute holiday appropriate stuff. I'll be open from 5:00 pm to midnight and sell all kinds of weird shit. It'll be great and a new and novel way to lose vast sums of money.
project 365 #133: bee on sage
Yesterday's picture, of a GIANT BEE! Actually, no, it was not that giant, which is kind of too bad, because a six foot bee on giant blue flowers would be excellent. However, despite global warming and signs of armageddon and all that stuff, the bee is normal sized. Of course, he may also be the last of his kind, which is a depressing thought.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
project 365 #132: gas station at night
I went out for a couple of drinks with my friend J last night at Broadways and there was a huge rainbow over Town Mountain. That was nice, although the pictures of it, which can be seen here, sadly aren't so great. Ah well. Then I came home, stopping first at the liquor store where I spent vast amounts of money on vodka and rum, thus ensuring that my moving crew will be a very happy moving crew (if N and I don't drink it all before next week, which is a disheartening possibility, alas) and picked up beaucoups de boxes. Those boxes are now all over the house and I'm packing and tossing books. I think I can live without Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh (in 90% of Ngaio Marsh books, btw, the murderer is a sex starved spinster. Yet another reason why celibacy is just so BAD for one.) but I need Dorothy Sayers and Marjorie Allingham. And Steven Brust and of course Tim Powers but not Sean Russell or Robert Heinlein, although I am saving Podkayne of Mars, god help me.
The books are filthy and I'm covered with grunge and that weird crud that gets all over books. What IS that stuff? No, wait, it's possible I don't want to know.
The books are filthy and I'm covered with grunge and that weird crud that gets all over books. What IS that stuff? No, wait, it's possible I don't want to know.
Friday, May 11, 2007
susans porch
I know, I said there would be pictures of the new house and N & S & I went over there right after work yesterday so I could show it to them and I had the camera with me and everything and. . . and. . .I completely forgot to take it out of the car. Yeah. Sometimes my inner space cadet takes charge. So I took a couple of not so good pictures of N & S and S's porch, which notably features my old painting, the really dramatic one with the broken glass and the apocalyptic epic Norse poetry and all. It looks good up there. I think it's happy to be out of a shed or garage for the first time in about 20 years. And it was fun hanging out on S' porch with N & S drinking beer and smoking and being mellow, too, particularly since young M pitched a huge fit about moving and said he hadn't been consulted (when, god, oh when will children realize that the family is not a democracy?) and he wasn't moving and in particularly not to Malvern Hills, was I crazy and forget it, he hated me and the rest of the world too and he was going to Baltimore to live with his father and so on. Teenagers are such a special joy. It worked out okay, though since when I went back I placated him with promises of cable television; he is happy now, the fickle, bribable boy.
Also, I made chicken vindaloo and raita for dinner and got everyone involved in making garam masala for that, which process initially resulted in an extremely fragrant burned powder - "Look, y'all! We made incense!" - and then turned out pretty damn good.
And then I packed up books. I packed up all the books in M's room last night and filled 4 big banana boxes with kids' books to give away and only 3 small beer/liquor boxes with books to keep, which is the kind of ratio I want. It was tough to choose in some cases so I just kept the real classics and the ones I totally love, like the Moomins and the Bear Who Wouldn't Be and sadly consigned Little Critter and the Stupids and all those insipid Magic Tree House books, which M inexplicably adored as a 2nd grader, to the banana boxes. I guess I really don't need Where's Waldo ever again but it's sad to kiss One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish goodbye. Oh well, life goes on, and we have waaaaaaaaaay too many books and since the chances of me ever having another little kid to read to are close to nil (please oh great astarte do not take this statement as some kind of personal challenge, thanks) I think the Seuss can go to somebody else's child now.
Also, I made chicken vindaloo and raita for dinner and got everyone involved in making garam masala for that, which process initially resulted in an extremely fragrant burned powder - "Look, y'all! We made incense!" - and then turned out pretty damn good.
And then I packed up books. I packed up all the books in M's room last night and filled 4 big banana boxes with kids' books to give away and only 3 small beer/liquor boxes with books to keep, which is the kind of ratio I want. It was tough to choose in some cases so I just kept the real classics and the ones I totally love, like the Moomins and the Bear Who Wouldn't Be and sadly consigned Little Critter and the Stupids and all those insipid Magic Tree House books, which M inexplicably adored as a 2nd grader, to the banana boxes. I guess I really don't need Where's Waldo ever again but it's sad to kiss One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish goodbye. Oh well, life goes on, and we have waaaaaaaaaay too many books and since the chances of me ever having another little kid to read to are close to nil (please oh great astarte do not take this statement as some kind of personal challenge, thanks) I think the Seuss can go to somebody else's child now.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
project 365 #130: emerald in calcite matrix macro
This is yesterday's photo, by the way. Monday's photo is here and Tuesday's is here (they both are pretty goddamn lame, so you probably don't want to bother clicking) and that catches us up to today. Hopefully I'll get back over to the new house this evening and take a couple of exterior shots for today's photo!
Actually, I must say that yesterday was pretty cool, despite the Asheville High School lockdown, which young M was totally fine with, since it meant he got out of school early. During all that, which entailed a whole bunch of panicky recorded messages from the superintendant of schools (sometimes the information age gives us a little more information than we really need, you know) a local super fancy jewelers called us up and asked us to send over some museum people and a photographer to look at this guy's emeralds. Well, that would be me and my coworker P, so off we went, and I got to take a bunch of pictures of these truly amazing emeralds. Sometimes I really like my job. Then in the evening I went over to my mom's and had drinks with her and some friends and that was really nice and then I went over to my friend S' house to meet her good friends from NY who I had never met before and who are totally cool. It was basically a pretty excellent day - and there have just not been enough of those lately so it was really extra good.
Actually, I must say that yesterday was pretty cool, despite the Asheville High School lockdown, which young M was totally fine with, since it meant he got out of school early. During all that, which entailed a whole bunch of panicky recorded messages from the superintendant of schools (sometimes the information age gives us a little more information than we really need, you know) a local super fancy jewelers called us up and asked us to send over some museum people and a photographer to look at this guy's emeralds. Well, that would be me and my coworker P, so off we went, and I got to take a bunch of pictures of these truly amazing emeralds. Sometimes I really like my job. Then in the evening I went over to my mom's and had drinks with her and some friends and that was really nice and then I went over to my friend S' house to meet her good friends from NY who I had never met before and who are totally cool. It was basically a pretty excellent day - and there have just not been enough of those lately so it was really extra good.
And There Was Much Rejoicing
I gots a house!!!!!!! Sing hallelujah! Yes, I have just now come back from signing a lease on a funky little 2 bedroom ranch house in West Asheville, on the other side of West Asheville from where I currently live, near the Malvern Hills Park. It has a fireplace! And a dishwasher! And a garage! And a big if somewhat rickety deck! And a huge yard! It is nifty! It is kind of like a scaled down Brady house!
I get the keys a week from today and I'm thinking I'm going to try to move that weekend if I can get my shit together. I'm happy and sad all at once and a bit trepidatious about what young M is going to say, since he hasn't seen it and it's not as convenient to stuff like convenience stores as the house where we now live. Saying goodbye to BJs Food Market will make me sad, too, but saying hello to much leafy greenness and a park with a pool and tennis courts is pretty damn cool. Young M will just have to get a bike and suck it up.
There should be pictures later today. Yay! I have a house!
I get the keys a week from today and I'm thinking I'm going to try to move that weekend if I can get my shit together. I'm happy and sad all at once and a bit trepidatious about what young M is going to say, since he hasn't seen it and it's not as convenient to stuff like convenience stores as the house where we now live. Saying goodbye to BJs Food Market will make me sad, too, but saying hello to much leafy greenness and a park with a pool and tennis courts is pretty damn cool. Young M will just have to get a bike and suck it up.
There should be pictures later today. Yay! I have a house!
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
James McMurtry - project 365 #127.5
Sorry about the lameness of blogging lately, y'all, but life is hectic and insane and I have to find a place to live before I end up in a cardboard box under the Patton Avenue bridge and so on and so forth. Meanwhile, although I should do nothing but pack and whimper and make phone calls, I took some time out on Sunday night to go down to the Grey Eagle and see that great true love of my life, James McMurtry. And OMG and WOW and it was AMAZING and he's so incredibly cool and talented and fantastic and so on and so forth. I could insert a couple lurid paragraphs of the worst kind of adolescent girl gushing here but I will leave that up to your imagination. It involves a lot of Eeeeeeeeee! noises and blushing and stammering. Also, my mighty detective skillz helped me deduce that James has in fact had a recent breakup (the first five songs he played were all, like, angry breakup songs, so clearly, you so know he's totally single, OMG!) and therefore perhaps I should move to Austin. In the meantime, however, I did have a brief but really nice chat with Darren, his drummer, and he's also extremely good looking and very sweet plus has the added bonus of actually knowing I exist. That is helpful when one is in love.
In other news, there is no other news. I wish there were. I can't seem to find a place to live - freakin' Asheville is getting like New York city, I swear. I didn't get the place I put the application in on and I think that probably I should have realized that it was like New York around here now and gone prepared to look at it with like $1000 in small unmarked bills. It is insane. It is disheartening. You make 25 phone calls the minute the Iwanna comes out and of those, 5 of them have been rented (why don't people pull their ads? And then why do they get all cranky when you call abou the ad? I mean, jesus.) 15 of them will never return your call no matter how many times you try and of the other 5, one will be a horrifying shithole deep in the wilds of Leicester, although they say it's West Asheville, one will have changed their mind about pets, one will be so minuscule that even leprechauns couldn't live there without stooping and the other two will be too expensive for you and also just rented, like, 5 minutes ago. Add to this the fact that rents have almost tripled in the last 7 years and It really is getting dire around here.
In other news, there is no other news. I wish there were. I can't seem to find a place to live - freakin' Asheville is getting like New York city, I swear. I didn't get the place I put the application in on and I think that probably I should have realized that it was like New York around here now and gone prepared to look at it with like $1000 in small unmarked bills. It is insane. It is disheartening. You make 25 phone calls the minute the Iwanna comes out and of those, 5 of them have been rented (why don't people pull their ads? And then why do they get all cranky when you call abou the ad? I mean, jesus.) 15 of them will never return your call no matter how many times you try and of the other 5, one will be a horrifying shithole deep in the wilds of Leicester, although they say it's West Asheville, one will have changed their mind about pets, one will be so minuscule that even leprechauns couldn't live there without stooping and the other two will be too expensive for you and also just rented, like, 5 minutes ago. Add to this the fact that rents have almost tripled in the last 7 years and It really is getting dire around here.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
project 365 #126: schwag the puppy best
So did I mention that my daughter A took one of my friend D's puppies the other night? Yes, yes she did, and this is Schwag, who came over to visit today. I take back everything I ever said about little dogs and yes, I know that what I said was usually in condescending tones - the kind of tones used by those of us who are fond of large dogs who feel that eeeny dogs cannot be considered true dogs at all. But Schwag acts just exactly like a real puppy - only quarter sized! He is scary adorable! He is total cuteness! This is puppy love! I took 52 pictures in like an hour! The best of those can be seen here if you want more sweet, sweet puppy action.
project 364 #125: waterdrops on poppy petals
So the party is over and we're slowly beginning to clean up. Yesterday was hopeless for this, since it was raining and we were all hungover anyway. Instead of tidying we went and got three thoroughly weird movies (I am the queen of picking strange movies at random in the video store) and lay around and watched them and ate party leftovers and hamburgers. We watched Basquiat, which had waaaaaaaaaay too many long musical interludes during which nothing much happened and strange cut in blue surfing over skyscrapers interludes which were highly symbolic of a way over self indulgent filmmaker. As N remarked, too much art and not enough drugs.
Then we watched some new, totally bizarre Asian movie called Curse of the Golden Flower which made no sense at all but was highly, or well, passably, entertaining anyway. There were endless sequences of extremely technicolored hallways (N said, this must be from the Acid Dynasty) up and down which people in totally improbable costumes rushed in various states of extreme emotional distress, and later in the movie, gory stabbed-ness. There was incest. There were like ten million yellow chrysanthemums in pots - an apparently infinite supply, actually, of yellow chrysanthemums in pots. There were ninjas on bungie cords and zip lines. There was tons of gold everywhere and a freaky sauna chair. And, best of all, there were all these people whose apparent total job consisted of roaming around the aforementioned long psychedelic hallways banging on gongs and announcing what time it was in strange little metaphoric poems. I have decided that this is probably my dream job, so if you're hiring a human clock any time soon, let me know.
Then we watched some new, totally bizarre Asian movie called Curse of the Golden Flower which made no sense at all but was highly, or well, passably, entertaining anyway. There were endless sequences of extremely technicolored hallways (N said, this must be from the Acid Dynasty) up and down which people in totally improbable costumes rushed in various states of extreme emotional distress, and later in the movie, gory stabbed-ness. There was incest. There were like ten million yellow chrysanthemums in pots - an apparently infinite supply, actually, of yellow chrysanthemums in pots. There were ninjas on bungie cords and zip lines. There was tons of gold everywhere and a freaky sauna chair. And, best of all, there were all these people whose apparent total job consisted of roaming around the aforementioned long psychedelic hallways banging on gongs and announcing what time it was in strange little metaphoric poems. I have decided that this is probably my dream job, so if you're hiring a human clock any time soon, let me know.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
project 365 #124: office birthday gift
Party party party party. Party on, dudette: yesterday was my birthday and totally partied on down. It's amazing that I don't feel worse today - the party was still going strong when I slipped away and went to bed at around 2:30 or so. I know it's lame to crash out at your own party but oh well, I'm so old now that I can disregard basic laws of etiquette like that one.
So I got some nice stuff for my birthday - as seen on the right, some bubble lights and a fern and some chocolate and a wonderful get lost doormat from my coworkers. N gave me the Allman Brothers live at Fillmore East and Fruit That Ate Itself by Modest Mouse. My lame children A & M gave me cards with promises of presents to come, when they get less lame. My friend J made me a most amazingly wonderful Prom Queen tiara out of pink foam and jewels and my friend S gave me a totally fantastic brightly painted steel mask that she made herself and which says Ohhhhhhh Shit on it. My friend D brought me some fancy cleaning spray so I can clean up this house when I move; my friend M brought a bottle of wine and a couple of my other friends gave me another form of consumable. And my friend J the potter gave me a certificate for one of her coffee mugs AFTER I move, which was adorable and totally sweet and smart of her. So I got great loot; the food was great; the people were great and D brought a couple of her puppies and succeeded in giving one of them away - to A, hee hee. It was an excellent party. Awesome, even.
So. I am now going to officially declare something that all of y'all may have to remind me sternly of in the future: I am NEVER internet dating again. No. Never again. I'm just too strange and picky for it and if I'm going to date anyone I have to start with an actual man who I've met in a nonvirtual sense and then maybe discover somewhere along the line that he's a good writer - it can't be the other way around. It's never worked before and it didn't work this time and I think I can now confidently say that it will never work in the future. I know, there are lots of people for whom it does work just fine, but not me. I am just too damn weird - also too damn willing to overlook the sensible rules that sensible people follow - and that's okay. I have a feeling that I can find a guy in the old fashioned way and if not? Well, hell - that hasn't killed me yet.
So I got some nice stuff for my birthday - as seen on the right, some bubble lights and a fern and some chocolate and a wonderful get lost doormat from my coworkers. N gave me the Allman Brothers live at Fillmore East and Fruit That Ate Itself by Modest Mouse. My lame children A & M gave me cards with promises of presents to come, when they get less lame. My friend J made me a most amazingly wonderful Prom Queen tiara out of pink foam and jewels and my friend S gave me a totally fantastic brightly painted steel mask that she made herself and which says Ohhhhhhh Shit on it. My friend D brought me some fancy cleaning spray so I can clean up this house when I move; my friend M brought a bottle of wine and a couple of my other friends gave me another form of consumable. And my friend J the potter gave me a certificate for one of her coffee mugs AFTER I move, which was adorable and totally sweet and smart of her. So I got great loot; the food was great; the people were great and D brought a couple of her puppies and succeeded in giving one of them away - to A, hee hee. It was an excellent party. Awesome, even.
So. I am now going to officially declare something that all of y'all may have to remind me sternly of in the future: I am NEVER internet dating again. No. Never again. I'm just too strange and picky for it and if I'm going to date anyone I have to start with an actual man who I've met in a nonvirtual sense and then maybe discover somewhere along the line that he's a good writer - it can't be the other way around. It's never worked before and it didn't work this time and I think I can now confidently say that it will never work in the future. I know, there are lots of people for whom it does work just fine, but not me. I am just too damn weird - also too damn willing to overlook the sensible rules that sensible people follow - and that's okay. I have a feeling that I can find a guy in the old fashioned way and if not? Well, hell - that hasn't killed me yet.
Friday, May 04, 2007
project 365 #123: lazoom bus woman in red
Turns out that the La Zoom bus stops at the Brewing Company, which is where I naturally was last night, it being Thursday and all. My camera, for some reason, truly loathes the purple color of this bus and all the pictures I keep trying to take of it get all facocked.
So anyway, that was Thursday's picture, which is to say yesterday. Today is my birthday; yup, yup it is. It's been a party party week and right now there are a zillion kids in the museum and when I planned, two weeks ago, to have a party tonight I was thinking that I would get the whole house clean and organized and stuff by Thursday night.
That didn't happen.
So I'm running around like a mad woman today and at work and hither and thither and yon and actually, this has already started off to be a really nice birthday, beginning at midnight and then this morning at work where my sweet coworkers left a pile of presents by my office door.
So anyway, that was Thursday's picture, which is to say yesterday. Today is my birthday; yup, yup it is. It's been a party party week and right now there are a zillion kids in the museum and when I planned, two weeks ago, to have a party tonight I was thinking that I would get the whole house clean and organized and stuff by Thursday night.
That didn't happen.
So I'm running around like a mad woman today and at work and hither and thither and yon and actually, this has already started off to be a really nice birthday, beginning at midnight and then this morning at work where my sweet coworkers left a pile of presents by my office door.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
project 365 #122: smoke ring gun best
Yesterday's photo, of my friend J at the museum, where he's been doing some contract computer work and also finding time to experiment with everyone's favorite gift shop I'm bored item: the glow in the dark whizzing zipping smoke ring gun! Yes folks, a gun that shoots smoke rings - a singularly useless and yet enthralling thing.
Yesterday was super heavy and very fraught and not so good, all in all and all I'm going to say about that is, yeah, okay, you all were right. I'm just not very good at this stuff. But I am pretty damn good at being alone and self reliant, and that will come in handy over the next few months, I think. Which is a good thing.
Still no news on the housing front - it's getting scarier and scarier, argh: there must be somewhere out there for me and young M and the dogs to go. Right? Right?
Yesterday was super heavy and very fraught and not so good, all in all and all I'm going to say about that is, yeah, okay, you all were right. I'm just not very good at this stuff. But I am pretty damn good at being alone and self reliant, and that will come in handy over the next few months, I think. Which is a good thing.
Still no news on the housing front - it's getting scarier and scarier, argh: there must be somewhere out there for me and young M and the dogs to go. Right? Right?
project 365 #121: my mother, wasp and wine
Here is Tuesday's photo: my mother sharing her wine with a large hornet. My mother (the witch) is completely and totally unafraid of bees and wasps and hornets and other stingy things despite the fact that she is, or at least used to be, deathly allergic. My father would occasionally make a big thing out of this and try to scare us with tales of how we would have to give my mother a shot of this stuff in the refrigerator but meanwhile, a yellow jacket would be landing on her arm and she would say calmly, "It's not time for me to die today." and the yellow jacket would fly away. I have been trying hard to inherit this stoic serenity myself but so far I haven't managed quite her level.
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