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Showing posts from November, 2012

Non-Newtonian Horoscopes

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Aries (3/21 – 4/19): The other day S. and I took the baby to see the waterfalls (or is that "waterfall"?  How many waters need to fall to make it plural?)  Anyway, she didn't seem to notice the falls but she's a good baby and seemed content to just hang out holding a graham cracker.  Aries, see if you can get someone to dress you up in a fleece thingy and carry you around for a few hours.  Bring your own graham cracker.  I think that's just what you need this week.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The college boy was home for a bit which means I would get those phone calls downstairs, "Hello, handset one?  This is handset two.  Can you make me some bacon?"  Which one could find irritating or charming, depending on your POV.  I vote for charming, and keep making the bacon.  Sidebar:  if you are going to make bacon, don't be cheap about it.  Get good stuff, like Hempler's.  But back to your horoscope:  keep walking all the way around to the other side until …

Nitrogen

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I’ve been about to clean my house for a week now, but first I had to create a playlist of just the right music, but before I could do that, I had to get recommendations, and then I had to listen to the suggestions, and then, while I was at it, I might as well listen to related artists, and then I should probably go to allmusic.com and read up on everyone, and then download a bunch of songs and put them through my rigorous method of getting onto the various playlists, and then, well, entire days have elapsed this way, with a lot of yoga and a little bit of hospital visiting sprinkled in there.  This is what I do when I say I’m writing.
 So today I decided I should go to the store, test drive the housecleaning playlist and start moving forward towards creating a thanksgiving feast.
I wander around the store aimlessly for a while watching all the bustling people, and it’s all going so fast.  Which makes me think about coffee.  So I go to the coffee aisle, select some beans, and start gri…

Oh, the humans

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So I’m sitting in the coffee house, and it’s usually the same people in here every day; I know what to expect.  There’s the lady who must sit at her exact table to such an extreme that once, when the whole place was empty my friend unknowingly sat at that table.  When I arrived, I joined her there, and when the woman arrived, she looked really irritated but sat down next to me, harrumphing but not saying anything to us.  So, empty coffee shop, 12 other free tables, you get it. We moved, because we’re flexible that way, and that’s the good thing about this town.  We work around each other for the most part, like that movie Lars and the Real Girl.  I think if I conjured up an inflatable friend, people would just go along with it and include my inflatable friend in whatever is going on.  (Not that I'm anywhere close to being the person with an inflatable friend.  Sheesh.)
I like writing here because for one thing, it’s warm, (unlike my house), but mostly because it helps me focus. I…

Salt

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I keep losing things.  Like my camera, and scarves, and so on.  I sort of keep track, and have a tally in my head – my scarf is probably at the grill, that book might be under my bed, I should really look harder for the camera, and so on.  But what’s on my mind is salt.  It’s ridiculous:  I made salt again this year, which isn’t actually making something, it’s taking what was already there and waiting.  
Here’s how it went:  M. invited to me to Whidbey Island to help with some gardening, which was fun and hard work and good company and the only tiny downside was when, after hours of digging up sod and planting trees, I laid down on my back for a minute to rest, and in the gentlest way possible, she said, “I think I’m going to discount your time for being a little slow.”  This is the young person who voted for Jill Stein, campaigned for Obama, and wrote the POTUS a letter that she described as “stern but congratulatory” earlier this week, reminding him of right and wrong and what he s…

No Scopes

I wrote a bunch of horoscopes, sheesh, slowly yanking each one out of my foggy brain, and I even liked a few.  I might have gotten as far as Capricorn. And then poof, one accidental “select all” followed by blogger’s incessant autosave, and it’s all gone.

I can’t remember what they were about, but I got up really early to write, and it’s dark and cold and beautiful around here, so I guess I'll just be happy that this little mishap prompted me to go stand outside in the dark and see that sliver of a moon that was so sweet and not very lurky.

Cake Boss loves the moon. It’s almost like the third person in her marriage -- she wants to move to where she can be closer to it, see it more often with less hassle, spend evenings with it.  I have mixed feelings.  The moon is amazing, but can also be a little lurky sometimes, especially when it’s that just past full phase, waning gibbous, I guess you call it.  But this morning, the air was crisp and cold and dark and starry and the moon was …

Bleeding

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I’m trying to write a book.
I thought, hey, I write all kinds of stuff, blog posts, reports, essays -- I love writing, so why not?  I have more time than I’ve ever had in my whole life.  If not now, when, as they say.  
So I’m writing a memoir.  I’m self-conscious saying that out loud.  People tend to confuse memoir with autobiography.  Autobiography is for Patty Hearst and Hilary Clinton, people who’ve had amazing, accomplished, interesting lives, and everyone wants to know the details.  I’m not Patty Hearst.
Memoir is a little nugget, a piece of your story that might be interesting not because of your accomplishments or adventures, but rather, because it contains universal elements, which is code for love and loss, the only story. It documents our human condition, it makes us closer to one another.  I read a good memoir and think, “I know!  Me too!”  And in that instant, the world gets smaller, richer, easier to bear.  But still, I feel self-conscious saying, “Yeah, I’m writing a b…