Perforation Problems

I don't mean those adult-like things. I mean helping your friends move, and creating assembly lines to get boxes from the storage unit to the truck.

Someone shared this in a writing group I'm a part of on FB today:  25 Things Writers Should Stop Doing I can specifically relate to #2, 3, 4, 6, 8... lots of them. But I think #7 in particular:  7. STOP THINKING IT SHOULD BE EASIER  It’s not going to get any easier, and why should it? Anything truly worth doing requires hella hard work. If climbing to the top of Kilimanjaro meant packing a light lunch and hopping in a climate-controlled elevator, it wouldn’t really be that big a fucking deal, would it? You want to do This Writing Thing, then don’t just expect hard work — be happy that it’s a hard row to hoe and that you’re just the, er, hoer to hoe it? I dunno. Don’t look at me like that. AVERT YOUR GAZE, SCRUTINIZER. And get back to work.

The other night, inspired by framed sheet music at Restoration Hardware, I dug out my music bag and got swept away by band memories. These kinds of moods can be dangerous if certain conditions are met. You get immersed in relics of the past, your emotions sharpen, and time starts to become simultaneously a palpable thing both right there in front of you and something slipping away right outside your grasp. Suddenly you're waxing poetic, every phrase and thought SO eloquent and fitting you imagine the world paused on bated breath to hear the jewels that come spilling out of your brain. This is no problem if you don't have an immediate audience. In fact, these sentimental moods, the times when your emotions seem right up there at the surface, are perfect for writing. It's just that there's a 50% chance you'll look back on what you wrote a couple days later and want to puke all over it. Or you find your defenses are back up and you can't stand the vulnerabil...

I can't sleep tonight, and so I'm up wasting time, buying books from Amazon and thinking how miserable I'll be in the morning. My brain is working too fast, whirling around like one of those tops kids have where you pull the tab fast and it spins, spins, spins. Be quiet, brain. It's time to rest. Tonight I finished a book set in Hawaii, on the same island where we spent our honeymoon. The characters traveled over the volcano we hiked, swam near black sand beaches like ours, and walked through forests I can still see in my memory. They talk about the rain that comes every afternoon, and the frogs that sing them to sleep, and I can close my eyes and be there, in a world just far enough away. I miss Hawaii, but I think what I miss most of all was not having any worries or responsibilities. There were no demands on my time, no problems that had to be solved, no unpleasant tasks to deal with, no obligations. There was just me, my husband, the breeze, and sunshine. And t...

I was about ten minutes away from home today when my turn signal started clicking doubletime, as in “YOUR TURN SIGNAL IS OUT. YOU CANNOT SIGNAL. YOU HEAR THE NOISE BUT NO ONE CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE GOING TO TURN. YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW.” I got home and told Michael. Part of me was wanting him to say, “Oh, that sucks. Let’s go figure it out and get it fixed.” Instead, I got a distracted, “Stupid turn signal!” as he continued to work on his computer. I was probably expecting him to react the way my dad would react – but Michael is not my dad, and I don't really want him to be my dad. I just wanted someone to take the problem away from me so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Like my dad. So now I’m unreasonably resentful that Michael didn’t just drop what he was doing, assume my problem as his own, and fix it for me in a “I’m-a-man-let-me-handle-this-car-issue-little-girl" kind of way (feminism is a "when you feel like it" kind of belief, right?), and I’m gett...

Let’s call this “Close but oh, so lazy.” I’ve been trying to get at least 5000 steps a day, which is no problem on days that I run or Michael and I go walking, but it can be difficult during the week when I spend most of my time in front of a computer. This was another occasion where I was exhausted and about to fall asleep but realized I hadn’t taken a picture – so there it is: my almost-but-no-cigar. I could have gotten up and walked around for 15 minutes and gotten my extra 1000 steps, but alas, it was not in the cards. Also, here's Clyde with his head through a t-shirt sleeve. P.S. – I looked up the origin of the “close but no cigar” thing: "The phrase, and its variant 'nice try, but no cigar', are of US origin and date from the mid-20th century. Fairground stalls gave out cigars as prizes, and this is the most likely source, although there's no definitive evidence to prove that."

I’ve been taking pictures of the oak in our backyard throughout the year so I can capture it in different seasons. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the pictures at the end – maye splice them together like those paintings you see around, or maybe just frame them all and make a gallery wall. We’ll see. This one I took not because of the tree, really, but because of the way Michael was mowing the lawn. He sometimes alternates between vertical and horizontal rows, but this time he went from the outside in. That's probably one of the reasons I love him -- that I walk outside and see things like this.

Opening scene of Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing. Loved it. It’s one of Shakespeare’s plays that I haven’t read, so it was a chance to see how my English-major self did without having the text and footnotes in front of me. I always feel super sophisticated when I go to the Artsy Fartsy theater in town. They have cocktails named after characters in whatever the current big movie is, and you can buy gluten-free cookies and tiny gourmet chocolate bars for $4.99. I usually just eat whatever I've hidden in my purse, but I have the option to buy expensive Artsy Fartsy food, and that's what it's all about. Anyway, so yes, I was being obnoxious and had my cell phone out in the theater, but only for the first couple seconds. I wasn’t a huge fan of Alexis Denisof when he played Wesley on Buffy and Angel , but I loved him in this. He and Amy Acker mixed sarcasm and longing in a way that made you remember that it’s so easy to let love get warped into resentment and verb...

Because I felt both pictures I took today were boring, I'm sharing both of them. Where x = a boring picture, 1x + 1x > 1x, and 2x = better for you! You're welcome. I tried a new sandwich today. It reinforced my feelings that trying new food in a restaurant is never a great idea, not for me. I started thinking, “Sure, I’ll try it! Why not? Let’s get everything on it. Maybe it will be delicious.” I might as well have thought, "Maybe you've turned into a completely different person!" By the end, here’s everything I had taken off the sandwich.    It still had avocado on it, which I wasn’t thrilled about, either. Like I said, that was boring, and I feel bad I just made you read about things I took off my sandwich. So here's #2. Books and chocolate! Since I got my Godiva Rewards Card, I have not missed a month of free chocolate, which is probably not great but yet is super awesome at the same time.  This picture is boring because you alre...

My mom would not be happy that I took this picture without her being aware, but there’s something about it that I really like. I’m not exactly sure what it is – probably something about capturing my parents in a candid moment, my mom checking her phone, my dad wiping his fingers and probably thinking about how the new seasoned fries at Steak n’ Shake didn’t live up to his expectations. Looking at this picture makes me feel how much I love my parents – they drive me crazy like any good parents do to their children, but here they are, taking me out to dinner after Haircut Friday, when I was probably grumpy and tired from a long day at work and a long drive, but they want to spend time with me anyway. Story of my life. I think it’s important that I have never, not one day in my life, not known that my parents love me, no matter what.

Looks like I’m reading, right? Not like I’d been falling asleep and just woke the Nook up when I heard Michael coming down the hall.  Real men don’t fall asleep at 9pm.

The words come smoothly and softly when I'm alone in the dark, sitting on the back step in the twilight, listening for deer in the woods and the sound the bat makes as he searches for mosquitos. In that moment I am a writer, a wordsmith, phrases tumbling like polished stones into the dark shadows around me. How long, I think, how long will it take me to know the outline of these trees against the sky like I've known others? Isn't it strange, that I own this yard and all these trees and yet I couldn't number them if I had to? That's something it seems I should be able to do. Somehow this darkness is comforting. I don't imagine murder in the shadows like I do when I sit inside in the light. Tonight I feel a part of the dark, and it's not dangerous. It grows around me and folds me into it, and it's the bright, yellow, harsh light inside that seems like it will hurt my eyes.

I took a variety of safety classes when I was a kid. Here is what I remember getting out of them: Stop, drop, and roll  Don’t ever turn the handle of the pot of boiling water out where people can knock into it and die a horrible, scalded death.  We can replace your lunchbox when the bus runs over it – we can’t replace you. So don’t throw yourself under a bus if you drop something.  Everybody has to have their house burn down once in their lives, and it usually happens between 1 and 4 a.m.  I think this last one probably came from something like, “Most fires happen at night, so it’s important that you know what to do.” My brain translated that into, “You must stay awake until 4 a.m., at which point the danger greatly diminishes, and you can safely go to sleep without being burned to death.” It also meant that each evening I stacked my most important possessions in a pile in the garage, right along my planned evacuation path. This included my Little House on th...

This is a horrible picture. We went to see Man of Steel with my brother and his fiance. I wasn't too impressed with the script -- I was, however, impressed with the guy who played Superman. In a "I really like your beard and your muscles" kind of way. I also liked Russell Crowe, in a "I don't think I've ever seen you be funny, Russell" kind of way. Really the part with Superman's parents at the very beginning was the most interesting. So many times it feels like I leave a movie theater wishing people cared more about the writing. The plot was there for this movie, but they missed the chance to be epic. Anyway, here we are waiting for the movie to start, Michael messing with his phone and me taking pictures of him without him knowing.

Here's another picture in my series entitled, "These are the Flowers in my Yard." AKA "Flowers are Easy to Take Pictures of." The tiger lilies surround our porch. There's so many of them it makes me a little giddy with the bursts of orange popping up everywhere. Last year the heat killed them early, so I hope they stay around a bit longer this time.  Side note: Did you know "lilies" has only one L? For some reason I could have sworn it had two. 

Can you see him? He thinks he's hiding from us.

I know babies make people (including myself) stupid, but it's still entertaining to see. Here's how many people it took to hook up Ryne's swing and put him in it. You know Nature had to make babies cute, because if they weren't, we wouldn't take care of them while they scream and poop on us. And okay, they're kind of lovable. Look at this guy:  Ahhhh smiles! It's very tiring being at the lake. 

It's not red yet, but I'm impatient. Here's what I'm going to call, in my very scientific way, The First Three Stages of Strawberry: 1) Flower 2) Weird in-between thing 3) Green strawberry you can't eat. Stay tuned for stage 4! Control your excitement.

There have been three separate occasions where I've turned into the driveway and seen a deer. Most of the time they dash in front of my car to break through the brush and disappear. This guy was chillin', eatin' some leaves. He stopped to stare at me as I took a picture through the car window, then went back to eating his dinner. Okay, yes, as soon as I parked the car I stalked him so I could make a vine video , and he ran away. 

This picture is boring. It's a giant wooden sunflower I got from the Johnny Appleseed Festival several years ago. I always seem to come home from Johnny Appleseed with wooden things. I also have a wooden owl. What wooden item will I get this year? Nobody knows! I think I just liked the texture of the wood in this picture. It would have been a good opportunity for my macro lens, but the light was almost gone. 

I feel like I've named a post that before. But, really, it's fitting, because Clyde has an extremely hard life. Today he got a hair cut. Stephanie, who takes care of him when we're out of town, says he looks "a little bit like a dingus." It's true, Clyde. You look a little bit like a dingus. He's not happy about it. Also, he got the couch dirty. Ignore that.  In all seriousness, though, I'm not crazy happy with Petsmart's grooming. They don't seem to listen -- we said keep his ears long and go up a couple steps from how short they cut him last time. No dice on either of those. He also in about 24 hours will suddenly start scratching his ears till they bleed -- both of them are infected (OooOOoooo magic future-seeing abilities!). Did they get water in his ears? I don't know. But I think we'll go somewhere else next time. 

(Psst. I'm going to stop pretending like I actually wrote this on 6/10 for a second. It's 6/26 and I am sorely, sorely behind on posting. I feel this is going to hurt the quality of my posts, but if I don't want to be MONTHS behind, I need to just post anyway. So imagine these are about 55% more interesting than they actually are.)  Hello...it's June 10th. Cough. This is another one of those pictures that requires me to tell a story about how dumb I am. Here comes Monday night, and I am all by my lonesome...except for the chocolate hidden in the kitchen drawer. What happens then, pray tell? Do you really not know? Fast forward an hour. So I'm feeling a bit guilty because not only have I decimated the chocolate drawer, a bag of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, and a couple Cheryl's cookies (it just happens sometimes -- there's no point in fighting it), but I also slept in that morning and didn't run. It says something about my psyche that I was sudd...

Turtle on the side of the road. Silly turtle. Go find some water.

When we first got Clyde, I'd feel horrible leaving him alone for the day, because he was so upset when we left. But then he'd be ecstatically happy when we got back, and there's not much better than coming home to a dog who's overjoyed to see you. That's died down a bit over the last year. Now Clyde cares so little when I leave in the morning that sometimes he doesn't even get off the couch. Still, I can usually count on him being happy to see me when I get home, and there's always a few seconds of jumping on me and wanting to lick my face. Not today, though. I came home and walked in the house. No Clyde. I went to the back door and yelled. "CLYDE. COME ON." Nothing. That's because his head was stuck down a hole.  I don't know what was down there, but whatever it was, it was the most interesting thing Clyde has seen in 6 months.

Next year I'd like to keep track of what flowers bloom when -- some kind of visual flower calendar. This rose plant is one of my favorites: I guess I need to do something to keep the bugs from attacking the leaves.

I found a real strawberry today while I was mowing the yard. And by real I mean it was growing in the ground, and I didn't plant it. As soon as I saw the first one I started noticing them all over the place, poking their heads through the fence. For comparison's sake, here's the Real Strawberry (on the left) and a strawberry I picked from the ones I planted. I tried to find pictures of the different kinds of strawberries, but the best I could do was this from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency. Apparently there are over 600 varieties? What? 

I wasn't feeling great today, but then after fighting my way home through traffic and putting on my comfy shorts, I grabbed my book and sat outside in the sunshine while Michael mowed (HA, mowing.) Because I know watching a video of this activity is 100% how you want to spend your time, here:  Clyde gets antsy for some reason when I sit on the deck. It's like he thinks I'm doing something special and trying to leave him out. He started out here... And then ended up here. What's the deal, Clyde?  It's really too bad that those sunny hours between work and bedtime go by so fast -- they're my favorite time of the day.

Today was one of those days where you have to get out of the office or you might end up throwing your monitor at someone, so I grabbed some Chikfila and took it to the park. I was only there about 20 minutes, but it was a nice shot of sunshine and breezes before I had to get back to spreadsheets and email.

Today we took our garage from this cluttered mess... ...to a much better organized clutter.  It's not because I particularly wanted to clean the garage. It's because my dad has a shelf he's giving us, and he threatened offered to bring it by, so we had to make room for it. Soon there will be even more surfaces on which to put things! Yay!  Cleaning sucks, until it's done, and then it's awesome. 

I drank so much wine today. Well, it wasn't that much, really. But it was enough. And many kinds! Vidal Blanc, Traminette, Chambourcin, Raspberry, Strawberry, Blueberry, Blackberry, Pomegranate... And the truffles. Oh, the wine-filled truffles.