June

Where has the time gone? Fast/slow all at once it seems and another June has come along.

A few things: I have been doing lots of farm therapy, mainly on the East Side. This past weekend project was building grain bins which was awesome because hello, working with wood = something I love and also tools. Farmers market on Saturdays.

I definitely feel more and more grounded.

I have also been mowing my yard like no one's business - as you know, this is one of my favorite things + very zen. Planting flowers: morning glories and petunias and clary sage and lavender and fushia and this and that. Need to get my hands on some sunflower seeds and/or wild sunflowers for sure. I have a whole area in the front prepared and I am going to perennial the shit out that space, all wild flowers and stuff. I planted a lilac bush and want to plant a million more. The purple cone flowers that were already here are blooming now, nice and tall. Alas, the poppies I planted did not make it. Will try again next year. I am also holding out hope for the tiny nasturtiums sprouts to make it. The hollyhocks are going to be huge. I am in love with my kitchen herb garden. Two of my three butterfly bushes are growing well/blooming. The third, on a shady north side, not so much. I have plans and plans for hostas on that side. Trumpet vines (or as we called them, 'witch's fingers') all along the back with the honeysuckle. I planted some horsetail grass in a nice shady spot near the downspout. I need more peonies. Definitely not enough peonies in my yard yet. There are a few spots reserved for new trees - I am thinking honey locust or lilac trees or more redbuds or perhaps an apple/cherry/other fruit tree? Yes to all I think.

The lightning bugs are out. It's summer for sure. The light at the end of the day reminds me of home. My new one and my old.

And June.

ETA: This

Stop making sense

A couple of random observations on this Monday.

I've been reading this series on grief in Slate. It's sort of nice/interesting to be able to read about that process from a more detached distance; and by detached, I mean able to recognize the feelings without having to feel them all over again. And by distance, I mean that it's less of an open wound that never scabs over and more of a pale full-body scar that you wear, reminding you of what happened. Or something like that.

I tweeted about two people who have been hit by the Metro; one was by choice, the other I'm not entirely sure but the circumstances suggest as much. Two things: 1) I've always been conflicted about suicide - I'm libertarian in my belief that people with free will ought to be able to make this choice if they want, though I understand that most folks who choose it are not in the best frame of mind to exercise that free will = a sad situation all around and 2) if someone chooses this option, I think it's unforgivably selfish to involve other people in the act - as callous as it sounds, don't make someone else do your dirty work - the Metro operators have to live with being indirectly involved in ending someone else's life. Not fair.

Finally and definitely unrelated to above, I took the Washington Flyer bus from the airport last night when I got back in town. (Aside: I must note the fact that it takes less time for me to fly to Canada than it does to drive the 18 miles from Chantilly, VA to Arlington, VA at 830am on a weekday - this is not hyperbole, it is truth). The bus driver happened to be one of those women who has made a choice I personally would/could not make, despite my heretofore undisclosed libertarian leanings. This picture offers a pretty accurate depiction of said choice.

The following thoughts crossed my mind in about this order: What's that clicking noise? What does she have on her hands? Oh, wow, those are her nails. Dang, they're long. Like Guiness Book long. I guess that clicking noise is from her nails touching together. While she takes tickets. She is going to take my ticket. How will she grab it? Clicking. I feel nails. On.My.Arm. ! Don't panic - think about the Habs, think about Celine Dion, no, stop, no Celine. Ok, she's driving now. Clicking. How can she turn the wheel without breaking a nail? For that matter, how can she: push a button? text with any speed? write with a pen/pencil? type? pick her nose? um, pleasure herself? not scare small children when she waves? On the other hand, she can: mix her drinks without a stir stick; easily hail five taxis instead of one; scratch that itch in the middle of her back that's always been out of reach; fix her weave and mine at the same time; be her own set of clicky castanets; be a hit at the club when someone's pinky nail breaks and there are no backup cocaine delivery systems in place; point out the obvious in a roundabout, curved way so as not to make someone feel picked upon; and serve salad at dinner parties - no muss, no fuss. Thank god this ride is over.

And with that, I leave you with this: La fois suivante, nous arriverons dans la piscine plus tôt!

that time of year again

Hey Ma..thinking about you today.

I lost myself on a cool damp night

It's that time of year again.



These I found Sunday on a walk with the dogs through the new neighborhood. Growing up, we had this huge lilac bush in the backyard. I would always take a bunch that my mom cut to my elementary school teachers with their stems wrapped up in wet paper towels and aluminum foil. Yeah, brown-nosing the teachers, but I think secretly, I just liked smelling them on the walk to school. Unfortunately, the people who now live in our old house bulldozed that bush down, poured a bunch of concrete in the backyard and built a two car garage. I can hardly bear the thought, but putting my face in a bunch of purple flowers takes me back and that sweet smell will always be there.

I am off to Chicago tomorrow for the rest of the week so I'm sure there will be a shout-out Hi post from there.

my green thumb

Hola amigos, I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but my neighbors were too busy getting robbed. No kidding. Last night I came home from work to see cop cars out at the house two doors down and they were there hours later. I had concocted this whole story about how one of the older people living there had died b/c I don't even really know them. Turns out they're not old at all, and as I said, their house was ransacked and robbed. No one was dead. Scary shit esp given this neighborhood (read: bedroom community of suburban commuters). Luckily I have two dogs who will go 10-8 on anyone's ass who attempts to steal my latest acquisition: two boxes of Samoas and 1 box of Tagalong girlscout cookies. Don't tell me that if those were spotted on the counter, someone wouldn't pry open the window and risk dog attack just to snatch them. At $3.50 a box, they're like cookies made of gold. ps. Regarding Girlscout cookies, I finally, this year, admitted to myself that I really don't like Thin Mints and I just need to stop buying them b/c all they ever do is sit in their plastic sleeves in my freezer until I move and throw them out. Sometimes, it takes years to admit the truth to oneself but I think I've crossed a threshold to a new and more honest me.

What else? Oh yes, I think I am going to document on this here blog the evolution and growth of my first (potential) new friendship in this godforsaken city. It will be like an anthropological discourse on how cultivating a friendship is like growing weed = time, attention, and appreciation for the end product. Or so friends have told me. (Aside: Once, back in the 70s, my brother convinced my mom that the pot plant that he was growing on the roof was a tomato plant and she would water it for him. It became one of those family stories that is told at holidays and funerals. The punchline of course is that Mom blamed her lack of a green thumb for it never producing any tomatoes).

Anyway, we are discussing the growth of a new friendship here. You've come in at the infancy of this so you get to follow it from zygote to like whatever it will (or will not) become. Backstory: Last thursday, there was some kind of cosmic Metro delay coupled with my lack of being able to deal with it so I just gave up and decided to come up from Metro Center and walk to Gallery Place. In fact, I contemplated just walking around the city in like one of those movies where you see someone kicking down the sidewalk, braced against the cold, alone in their thoughts in a big city, trying to 'find themselves' etc etc. Instead, I decided to go for beer. There's a brewery nearby that's not bad (not great, but not bad) so I went and got a drink and exhaled. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, a conversation with a guy sitting next to me occurred. He is Australian, his wife got a job here, they just moved to the city a week ago. She joined us and we had several more beers, discussed politics and sports, joked about America and bonded over LJ. Our tiny tiny friendship became a seed. We emailed the next day, we texted over the weekend, and on Thurs, we made plans to have drinks again. I now have a potential new boy and girl friendship. I will call them the Aussies and will update you all on our growth. It will be like our science project: Can I actually make a friend in this town? Wish me luck!

How's your world?

Random Sampling and Abnormal Distributions

Holla, all you data geeks!

Oh Win, you had to go and do it. This whole tagging business. I'm resisting...resisting...

...but I can only write about the damn Metro for so long before even I click my own hollaback button. So. No guarantees re: scintillating details, these are just the random facts, Ma'am.

Rules:
We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.


1. I had my one and only nosebleed for the first time ever in my life three nights ago and got all light-headed based on the quantity and vivid color. Lohan might be used to such things given her, um, happy pants , but this is all new to me and I would like to pass on having another such event.

2. One time, when I was like 9 or 10, I played on this softball team and we were in the championship game. I was a scrawny skinny little thing, but I was fast and had a good arm. I was playing the spot they called 'rover' which is kinda behind second base and sorta outfieldy. They stuck all the little kids in the outfield b/c they figured no one would ever hit that far. I have no actual memory of this, but my dad recently told me a story about that game where apparently, there were two outs and we were winning (glued to the screen by this riveting random fact yet?) by like 1 or something. The other team was up to bat and one of their best hitters was up. A big girl, I guess. So she ends up hitting this line drive that's totally going to go over my head and win the game. According to the story, I apparently threw my skinny little arm up, caught the ball, and fell down with it still in my mitt. Now here is where you would think I would remember something of this magnitude: My teammates all ran to me and lifted me on their shoulders and carried me off the field in joyous celebration. Like total fucking movie or something. Seriously. And I can't remember this?

3. I stole a car once when I was 15. Granted, it was my mom's and I only drove it around the block while she was bowling and she never knew it was missing. Speaking of bowling, I recently just threw away like 5 old bowling trophies of mine from when I was a kid. Yeah, I bowled. Remember, we're talking Indiana.

4. I wrote my entire PhD in a month just to prove my advisor wrong, that I actually could write it in a month. Sidebar I: I had the data already collected, but still. Sidebar II: I gave up drinking beer, smoking pot, and sleeping during that month. Sidebar III: I thanked my dog in the acknowledgements. Sidebar IV: If I can do it, you can too, Mrs V!

5. Four years ago, while back home visiting my mom, I witnessed and was the first on the scene of a head-on car accident on a perfectly sunny summer morning. My mom was in the car with me and we were traveling on a two lane country highway. The minivan in front of us was weaving back and forth across the lanes, almost hitting cars coming at us. I slowed way down and was just reaching for my cell phone to call the cops when the accident happened. The car he hit spun around and landed in our lane, his minivan flipped and went into the other lane. I pulled over and ran up to the car, the smell of burning oil was kind of sweet. I hate that smell now. The older lady in the car was in shock. I reached in and touched her shoulder, talked to her. She kept asking what happened and fading in and out of shock. There was blood, not a lot, but enough. She had also lost most of the fingernails off of her hand and blood was coming from her ear. I know now that it visually could have been a lot worse and am thankful it wasn’t. I just kept talking to her and telling her help was coming; my mom found her watch in the roadway and put it in her car. They had to cut off the top of the car and the doors to get her out. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that I realized I had her blood on my pants. The driver of the minivan was an older man too, we never knew why he drove head-on and hit that car and we never found out whether the older woman lived. I won’t forget that day. It makes me wonder about the guy who witnessed my mom’s accident a year later and came up on the scene first. I know his name from the police report. What did he see and what does he remember most? Actually, I’m kind of glad I don’t know the story he tells about that night.

6. The longest I've ever gone in my life without having a dog is 1 year. Growing up, our dog Alex used to walk with me to school and lay out in front of the doors until it was over and walk me home. He would do the same when I walked downtown to the grocery store. Everyone knew him in town and he used to lay in the street in front of our house and watch the cars go by, everyone just drove around him. My yellow dog in grad school had the softest ears and when we went camping, she would search for the highest place near us so she could guard. She loved to canoe too. One of my current black dogs, the baby dog, reminds me alot of her, very gentle and sweet. I can't imagine not having a dog.

7. I have fallen all dorky-crazy in love with a lone wolf Canadian drummer girl!

8. In the tradition of costumes, my old friend J and I once dressed up as Isis. Remember that show? Eight years later in the trunk of my old car under my spare tire, I found the 80's gold belt from that costume. It's now back in style I think, I saw someone wearing one on the Metro today. Niiiice.

Alas, I don't have 8 people to tag, but Mona and vivvy, please indulge me and keep this chain letter going and you will have good luck for 8 years. Or something. It's way gay, just do it!

Cleveland Rocks!

Ah yes, so my time in the Hoosier state has run its course. I drank shitty beer and pokered and second-hand smoked and cussed and ate fried food and visited peeps enough. It is time to go. I have had a few moments of feeling the emptiness of this place, but luckily it has been fleeting. I drove to my old small town and went by Mom's old house three times while I've been in town. Those are the times I remember that this state holds too many memories sometimes. It's ok though, most memories are good and I'm learning to let the most recent and sharpest ones fade a little. It's still tough to drive by the accident site, but you know, it gets a little less painful each time. For that, I'm thankful. Small blessings laid upon us...

So tomorrow I am making my way over to Cleveland. It's a shortish drive so it won't be bad. I'll be visiting my friend M from grad school and her fam. I cannot tell you how much wine will be consumed, but trust me, we kept many a vineyard in business back in the day (we also kept several other vice-makers in business as well -- this lead to a rather complicated yet complete theory of how "time" was really, like, a "circular tube" we all traveled around and like, a "deja-vu" was when you took the same path in that tube and met yourself where the "past" and "future" and "present" all intersected. Yeah...you know exactly what I'm talking about. Anyway. Yes). Plus, she's got a hottub as I have mentioned and you have no idea how there I am with that whole idea. Coincidentally, this will be the second year in a row I will be spending St. Patricks day with them. Last year was up in Portland OR before they moved which was very fun and during which beverages were consumed and it is possible that I might have done a jig of sorts. Like River Dance. Because I am limber. So yes, Cleveland will be a good time and then off to The Crab next week.

Even with all this Midwestern business, I have been thinking about Baltimore. I believe we'll be closer to there than DC, but again, it's all who knows out east. Maps are of no help, you have to figure out the distances with your own body, you know? So I'm wrapping my head around actually being there as opposed to the abstract concept of "moving there". I once mentioned that the only things I know about Baltimore are what I learned from John Waters. I think I'm going to have to rewrite that script a little bit. I have a few ideas in mind..

Ok, that's it for a while. I don't think I'll have the same kind of internet access from here until The Crab so peace out to my homies on the eastside and down south. This is how we roll here in the I to the N to the D. LLYAS! TTYL! Stay cool!

Once more, with feeling

I can't be the only one thinking this today: I wish we could just get this over with and move on. Christmas has become this chore to get through and the longest gdamn day ever. It's enough to make me think about a gin and tonic at like 10am. The Agent and I are just hanging out, not doing much -- obviously I'm online and she's watching something stupid like Ice Age on tv. She does not have family to visit and I haven't been home for xmas the last couple of years. We did a bunch of cooking yesterday and that kind of helped a little. Had a nice fire last night and that did help for a couple of hours. Zone out on the flames. Today I tried to sleep in as long as possible to shorten the day. We plan to cook (got a nice beef tenderloin roast) later but to be honest, I'm not even remotely interested in doing that. The Agent is big into the present thing, but I just hate it. I have a hard time getting it up to show any enthusiasm and I think it bothers her. I just want this fucking bullshit day to be over and done with for another year. I keep hoping it gets better and it doesn't, not really. Yes, I bring the Christmas joy like no other.

We are supposed to go over to some friends later tonight for after dinner drinks and maybe some games. I am kind of looking forward to that, but that is only because it's distracting enough. I think I'm going to say fuck it and make up a big batch of mimosas to get through until then. Yes yes, we all have to fall off the wagon at some point, why not on Christmas? Cheers, Baby Jesus! Happy Birthday!

To those who actually dig the day and are like having a good time, I say good for you and have a happy holiday.

Orphan/Guest

So we stayed one night in New Orleans at a renovated orphan asylum on Magazine St in the Garden District, St. Vincent's Guesthouse. It was a huge walled establishment with an open courtyard encircled by open verandas. It was in a bit of disrepair I would say, but it had charm. Very high ceilings in the rooms, a large bannistered staircase, and a quaint kitchen serving breakfast to order. It was off the beaten path, but I was glad to get away from clean, shiny, touristy accomodations. Bourban St gaudiness no longer appeals. It was only a short walk to St Charles to catch the streetcar. Cafe Dumond for beignets, of course. Then a leisurely stroll back along Royal, checking out the galleries and shops.

This trip was bittersweet and I spent much of it being sad. I have taken many trips down there over the years, always accompanying my mom to her birthplace. Her sisters' faces are now my only living link to her smile and gestures. Funny that time and distance never erased those ingrained facial expressions sisters share. Looking at my aunts is almost like looking at my mom again.

I've come to learn that grieving a sudden, unexpected death means dealing with sudden, unexpected emotions. How else can you explain it when a crawfish makes you cry?

Me and Mom