A year ago about now, before I set foot in this house in which I now reside, but had a solid offer on my house in South Dakota, I was busy perusing homes online. There was one house in particular that I could see myself living in. The basement was roomy and practical for Reid. An enclosed front porch was stealing my heart as well as the original oak flooring. The dining room boasted a fireplace and oak built-ins. There was even a perfect spot for my faux Tiffany light fixture there, just above where the table would be. I loved the kitchen. As I was standing at the stove this morning stirring my bubbling oatmeal, I was reminded of that house. It sold before I made the trip out here to buy this one so I was never able to see it in person. I have to say at this point, two months til the anniversary of moving in here, that the reality of this home has more than lived up to the fantasy of the one I only virtually toured. I think that's called wanting what you have. Which is far better than having what you want.
Friday, March 24, 2017
It's not just a rumor, I was reading scifi way back in elementary school. I remember buying this paperback at the school book fair in either third or fourth grade. Yes, the printing press had been invented about two weeks earlier. So. I had on my mind the last week or so that I had read this weird book way back when about two boys who built a spaceship and went on an outer space adventure. And then I found it had recently come back from out-of-print obscurity! It was originally published in 1954. I ask you, how could I help myself? I bought a copy. I'll read it after I return from Margaret Atwood's dystopian future. I'm still waiting for my flying car.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
A couple of weeks ago, after a trip to my neighborhood King Soopers, I was in the midst of the unbagging and putting away portion of the task. Lurking in the bottom of one of the bags were a couple of laundry detergent pods. I figured the person ahead of me in line had been shorted them so I rolled up the bag and set them aside with the intention of returning them on my next trip. Which was today. When I got in line for customer service, there was only one person ahead of me who was currently being served. I was busy complimenting myself for my exquisite timing as a half dozen more people lined up behind me. The woman behind the counter gave me the stinkeye over her glasses and asked that I move back behind the sign until it was my turn. I half-smiled at her as I backed up a couple of feet. There was no line, or a sign that I could see indicating how far back I should be, so I stopped within a reasonable distance of the next person behind me in line. When my turn came up, I handed over the bag containing the detergent pods and explained what had happened. As she pulled them from the bag, she began shaking her head. These are samples we have been giving out, don't you want them? I replied, no, thank you, I don't use fabric softener. By this time she was scowling at me and waggling them at me. They're free! No thanks, I said once more and caught her in the act of a massive eye roll when I looked over my shoulder as I walked away. I sincerely hope that whomever ends up with the free samples enjoys them. If Ms Customer Service was having a bad day, that's understandable. If she has this sort of attitude in general, I hope she finds employment better suited to her sour demeanor. Mostly I just hope I never end up in her line again. Maybe it's just me. I'm a human lightening rod. Or as Reid is fond of saying, Mom, you're a bitch magnet. I remain convinced that as a writer, I need weird stuff to happen to me. So I have things to write about. It's a vicious cycle.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
You try to avoid the fact even as it's asserting itself in your mind. What's about to happen is inevitable. You have an open bottle of Ravenswood shiraz. You have a bag of Reese's white chocolate peanut butter eggs in the fridge. It's time to watch Mama Mia! and sing along!
I am not a Luddite. I enjoy electronic gadgets. But I do love maps. When I road-trip alone, I end up with numerous sticky notes on the dash for quick reference. Before I back out of the driveway, I examine maps, both online and the paper atlas variety, and write little notes to assist me in finding my destination. Often the acts of map reading and jotting down the information result in a pretty solid imprint on my brain, so the dashboard notes wind up being a backup system. Yes, I still sometimes miss turns and end up backtracking. But if travel comes off without a hitch, you don't have stories to tell. And road trips are all about the stories, if you ask me. I may be wandering, but I'm not necessarily lost.
I'm pretty happy with this new painting. It doesn't get lost in the space like the framed birds print, which is about a third the size of this canvas. I love the colors and how it suggests sailing ships without looking outright nautical. Which brings the count of boat motif items in my living and dining room area to five. I'm dangerously close to a theme here, so I need to draw the line at toss pillows with anchors on them. Or Jolly Roger flags. Steamer trunks? Somebody stop me.