Sock #2

I've thought of bunch of questions I have, like what is a sock hop (we all sort of know, right?  A h.s. dance with no shoes.  Confirmed.), and what happens to all those missing socks (I know, a dumb house-wifely mystery, but a puzzle, none-the-less). A blog hop is like a sock hop without the high school, the dance, the shews (shouldn't we spell it that way?), the hopping, the angst, the not getting asked to go, the big hair, the girls gathering

Time-travelling portal in the Snoqualmie Valley

and weeping in the bathroom over some boy, the drama, the vomiting in the parking lot.  So, in almost every single way, the blog hop is better, especially because you'll get to meet Beth if you don't already know her, because she's generous and interesting and a beautiful poet, and also, not to make this about me or anything, but she carted around a gigantic box of Sun magazines for a long long time and then gave them all to me.  

The only thing wrong the the blog hop is no music.  So here, try this.

Beth Coyote is a writer whose day job is catching babies. This means that she is remarkably unreliable for normal human activities like movies, dinners, parties and all holidays. Her circadian rhythms often resemble the lenticular halo over Mt Rainier, an endless cycle of sleep deprivation and annoying insomnia. She recently bought a new house that has every possible type of garden pest: bindweed, blackberries, ivy, horse tail and moles. This situation could be depressing as she is an avid gardener but she is invigorated by many creative and probably hopeless strategies for full eradication. Moles? Really?

Oh, right.  And she's a poet.  Go visit!

Blog hop

I was honored to be asked to be part of a Blog Hop by the lovely Corbin Lewars, which, although I don't know exactly what a blog hop is, I think you probably should probably take your shoes off.  (Oh, I hope that doesn't sound creepy!)

At any rate, Corbin is my writing teacher and a lovely human who blogs here, and generously included me in this mini-blog tour.  The deal is that I write about my writing life, and introduce three blogs that I enjoy.

My writing life.  Yikes.  This has caused me to pause for a while I procrastinate consider.  I'm not sure I have a "writing life", exactly.  But the questions I'm to respond to are:  What are you working on, how does your work differ from others in the genre, why do you write what you write, and what does your writing process look like? Um, hmm.

What I'm working on:  I'm mostly working on trying to be a decent person.  The sort of friend who not only helps a friend move, but helps a friend move bodies if needed.  I'm not planning to be an accomplice to murder, but I do endeavor to be the sort of person one can count on to listen and not judge, be good for my word, and be generous with time, money, and affection.  So that's the main project and it takes all of my time.

Writing wise, I like to say I'm working on a memoir, but the fact of it is that I haven't picked it up in months.  One shitty first draft, mostly written in a flurry in 2012, and there it sits.  But I do plan to get back to it "soon".  Because the most lovely A. is reviewing, editing, and making suggestions -- a gift that I'm extremely grateful for.  When there's another person in the world who is willing to commit time and talent to your project, well, that's rare and good.  I hope to appreciate her efforts by working hard on it when she's finished.

My writing process?  Does anyone particularly care?  I bet it's just like yours.  I try to write -- in fact, I feel like I must write or soul death will happen.  I get up early, full of hope.  I sit down at the computer, stare at the screen for a while, and then wander off without necessarily deciding to, put in a load of laundry, which should take 3 minutes but it takes 45 because I stop at the various things I find between the kitchen and laundry room:  newspapers, art supplies, projects, books.  By now it's time for another cup of coffee, but when that's done, I'm totally going to get down to business.  For sure.  And on and on it goes, checking e-mail and FB, doing minor chores, making snacks and meals and coffee.

But every so often it goes really well, usually because at some point during the day, something causes me to laugh or cry, and if I can take that bit of  lump in my throat or feeling of hilarity and convert it to words, well, that's a good day.

And let me introduce my three blogs, only at the moment, it will only be one.  I'm spacing it out.  Ahem.  You know who you are, and what to do.  :-)

This is the blog of my dear little Emma, whom I've known and admired for many years because she's strong, lovely, thoughtful, hilarious, and a great writer.  Check out her blog, and come back again and again, because she's in the middle of some hard things right now and the post isn't recent.

More about Ms. Emma:
Emma is a writer/crafter/collector/cook living in Duvall, Washington. She likes music, making art, listening to NPR, plants of all kinds, Volkswagens, and especially the time of day just before the sun goes down. She thinks there’s nothing better than a well told story and a really good orange, and likes to drink too much coffee. Her favorite color is cerulean blue.

Post Rapture Horoscopes

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I spent a lovely bit of time with a Pisces at a food court slash bookstore last night, but there was a weird vibe, like maybe the rapture had just happened, and we were stumbling around with the others who didn't get sucked up.  

There was a little family with three beautiful kids, but we could tell that the mother sort of hated the dad, not because they didn't get raptured, but because she had to spell everything out in a way that made her jaw look really pronounced.  "Honey, the shelving unit has just fallen on our 4 year old, the baby is toddling off at a rapid clip towards un-raptured strangers carrying hot beverages, and our daughter is standing in line for ice cream. Perhaps you could put your phone away for a minute?"  

And there was a family-ish unit, just the parents and diaper bags sans kids, as if their young people had risen up to meet their lord.  And the parents were left looking at each other, like yep, I didn't really believe that stuff we told the kids either.  Anyway, Pisces. Rise up to meet each day this week with vigor and grace.  May it be so.

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  So, Acroyoga was really fun and only a little bit scary, and I'd mostly recommend going upside down in whatever ways present themselves this week, Aries.  The brain loves getting all that blood!

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  One of my customers wrote this week to ask if I could flag a wetland for him, and I said, "Sure, but do you think you could cut a trail through that wall of blackberries for me?"
"Yep," he replied.  "I'll have my guys Lewis and Clark it for you."

"I like the use of Lewis and Clark as a verb," I responded.

"Wow, you're quick!  That's my thing, using names as verbs.  Feel free to Jesse James it." 

Taurus, I had no idea that it was an actual thing, this use of famous names as verbs.  But it turns out to be fun.  Marie Curie it for yourself!  (Wear eye protection, of course.)

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  After dinner, we wandered into the hardware store, because aah, how I love a hardware store.  I like to be near the people who know how to fix things, and see all those random tools and parts as potential solutions or even as components of entirely new things.  I like the smell and the vibe and everything else about it.  I like to go up and down each aisle and imagine what it would be like if I could make the things implied by the items on the shelves.

Maybe it was because we got there immediately after the rapture, but the smell was off -- more like weed killer than wood -- and they had things that don't belong in a hardware store, like children's toys, and pretty stone house address numbers, which seem like they could belong, but they don't.  I know this because each numeral was $30, and hardware store people don't spend that kind of money on a number.  Hardware store people carve one out of wood or they harness a nearby volcano and form the address out of molten lava that they tamed with just a few things they had in the garage.  

Also, the addresses out here contain so many digits that the children don't memorize home until they're about ready to leave, and no one, even that guy who bought the football team for TWO BILLION DOLLARS, not that I think that's obscene or anything - no one could afford a full address at that price.  Gemini, where are we going with this?  I'm really not sure.  Tough times for the Gemini, this much I know, but try to enjoy birthday season!

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  Speaking of fixing things, I know you're wondering about my oven / range situation.  You know you are.  Well, my friends, here's the status:
About 2.5 weeks ago I e-mailed an appliance repair place and I'm waiting diligently to hear back.  Any day now, I'm sure.  Cancer, while we're waiting patiently for things that aren't likely to happen, let me remind you that crab season is open!  

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I almost bought one cool thing  that I found in the children's toys section of the hardware store, near the model airplanes.  They had tiny log cabin kits,  miniature versions of the Lincoln logs we grew up with, but with the proper parts to assemble a cabin.  I almost bought one or sixteen and then stopped myself because THAT WOULD BE RIDICULOUS, Leo.  To assemble mini log cabins on the kitchen floor while I wait for the appliance repair guy to e-mail is over the edge for sure, right?  Here are my questions for you, Leo:  why is it not crazy for grown men to do stuff with model trains?  Would it really be so wrong if I built a little frontier village?  If I made a saloon it would for sure have a swinging door, and very tiny little beer glasses.  Yes it would. 

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  I heard that Mercury is in retrograde AGAIN.  WTF, Mercury!  Face forward! I don't even really know what that means -- how can a planet be going backwards?  Where's the front of the room in outer space?  And why would one planet, symbolized by that winged sandal guy, have so much impact on things?  But ours is not to question why, Virgo.  Apparently thieves, poets, and merchants are profoundly affected by retrograde.  (I think those are the only three kinds of people, so pretty much, everyone is at stake here.)  Just make the best of it until July 7, when Mercury will resume forward motion and the thieves, poets and merchants can resume the joy.

Three of my pet bees enjoying
 my favorite flower

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Also, about my hotplate woman situation?  I purchased, via a FB trading post site, a 20" portable table top gas grill, which has the capacity to cook 15 hamburgers at once.  I don't even think I know 15 people who eat hamburgers, so I guess we call that the blue sky, room for future growth, blah blah blah.  The grill is one of those "some assembly required" things, meaning that it came with 784 bolts and 362 washers and a bucketload of instructions.  I've been working on it like a little jigsaw puzzle that I do when I feel the urge to play solitaire.  I think I'm on Step 5 of 56.  So far I have attached the handles and name plate to the lid, and added other bits of miscellaneous hardware.  I'm guessing I'll be finished in a week or two if the wind doesn't blow the instructions away and I can keep track of all the tiny parts.  Libra, your horoscope?  Don't worry so much about the instructions, about getting every last bolt, metaphorically, in place.  Let your life roll on in endless song, as they say.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Speaking of songs, I was in the IGA a few weeks ago and heard that Pure Prairie League song, "Amie" which I hadn't heard in, oh, maybe 20 years.  I commented to the clerk - "wow, when's the last time you heard this song?"  "Uh, exactly 22 minutes ago."  Sometimes it feels like our lives are on a repetitive loop like 70's music in a small town grocery store.  But Scorpio, that's just not true.  Step out of the loop, do something different.  Learn a new song, start a new hobby.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  My son asked me how my hotplate situation is going.  "Upgraded," I replied.  "I bought an outdoor table-top grill!"

"Wait, what happened to the Big Easy? [which is what we called our old outdoor grill, not because we're weird, 'name the appliance' people, but because it came with a tag that said that.]

Sometimes it took a whole
TEAM of people to hold me up.
That's ok. 

"The Big Easy is at risk to become the big bang.  The gas line is rusted and flames shoot out where they don't belong, so use has been discontinued."

"Mom.  Really?  You think outdoor grill woman is a step up from hotplate woman?  Think about it."

I've thought about it, Sag, and I'm standing by my answer.  Outdoor grill woman has, well, for starters, the word "outdoor" in it.  It sounds picnic-y and fun.  Sure, maybe it does have a tinge of prepping for the apocalypse in it, I'll give you that.  But it successfully eliminates the "I'm on the couch heating up soup from a can" connotation. May your week be off the couch and into the adventures.  I, for one, will be grilling vegetables.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  I heard that bees near a candy factory in France eat the artificially colored sugar waste and produce blue and green honey.  Is that cool or sad? Let's go with cool. The other thing that struck me this week is that doctors are using 3D printers to make blood vessels.  We are only moments away from just being able to print everything.  Need a new car, oven, job, relationship?  Print it!

The Capricorns especially struggle with the retrograde thing.  Breathe.  Behave as if you're thriving and soon it will be so.  You are beloved by your people; be good to them.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  My bee posters arrived in the mail yesterday, three copies of the same poster.  One for me, one for my little gardener, and one to cut up and make into flash cards.  Let me know if you need flash cards, Aquarius.  Your week will be gone in a flash, just like our whole lives.  See if you can slow it down for a second.  (Should be easy, with the retrograde thing happening.)

Special Note:  There are still spots left in the Writing for Parents workshop on 6/22.  This isn't exactly a writing workshop or a parenting class, but some kind of hybrid that I am SUPER excited about, because it will involve writing, and thinking, and yoga nidra.  Oh, and snacks, of course.  For all you parents who are doing a damn good job, and just need a moment to rest and think about it.  You know who you are....Sign up here.

Acroyoga

I'm about to go do acroyoga, which is another name for flying, but one thing I know:  Our species doesn't fly!

I'm hoping I don't end up paralyzed from the neck down.  But, if that should happen, I will try to be graceful rather than bitter.  Remind me.  I'll be all, "meh, moving wasn't all it's cracked up to be.  I'm just enjoying being right here in the present.  Grateful, in fact.  Could you spoon feed me a little more tapioca pudding please?  Oh, never mind, turns out I can't swallow.  No big deal."  I'll be saying that with my left eyelash, though, so pay attention.