I thought it was me
but then your Dear Jane letter
was in Comic Sans
I used Comic Sans for years as my professional e-mail font. While it may have been seen as a clever manipulation meant to tempt people to underestimate me, it was really because I thought it looked nice and I had no idea. It sort of worked either way. Now I’m getting attached to Ebrima, which probably telegraphs that I’m a circus clown, or that I’ve been underwater for the last 40 years. *shrug* I like it.
I documented a little bit of what it’s like to kick it in my hood today. Come along with me.
Hey, look! The rain is slacking off! Where are my shoes?
Road Conditions: Dry. Yup, if all that water’s in the ditch, there isn’t any left to sog up the road.
There goes *that* route. It was a 10 foot wide bike path before the blackberries started in last week.
I had to ford this mighty stream just like my homesteading ancestors.
In the distance, you can see the house where the aviation magnate slowly descended into madness and bankruptcy. It’s available!
The water skiers must be making a late start today.
Yay! Oregon hopscotch!
I nearly lost the oxen in this one, but some quick thinking by Pa kept the wagon dry.
This should be dry enough to mow by August 2016.
And….I’m done for today. All the way done. I’m going to get on my makeshift scooter and insist that the kids push me around for the rest of the day.
Garmin: Uhhhh….oh. *yawn* Hey. Is it Spring?
Me: No, I’m just going for a run.
Garmin: Yeah, well, it’s been a while.
Me: I know. I was sick.
Garmin: Oh. Okaaaaay. You were sick since the end of November.
Me: Yes, just find your satellites, please.
Garmin: Locating, locating, locating. You want me to find an extra one? Just in case.
Me: No. C’mon, I haven’t got all day.
Garmin: 00:00
Me: *timer start*
. . . . . .
Garmin: Are we still warming up?
Me: No, I’m running. This is running today.
Garmin: Well, not everyone comes back from Ebola, I guess.
Me: What? I didn’t have Ebola. What made you think I had Ebola?
Garmin: Anthrax? Bird flu? Oh my god, did you have bubonic plague????
Me: WHAT? No! I had viruses. Several viruses.
Garmin: Oh. I mean, I was just looking at the pace, and I assumed… well. How many viruses?
Me: A lot of viruses.
. . . . .
Garmin: Why’d you stop?
Me: Somebody ran over a flute. It’s all smashed by the side of the road.
Garmin, in a high-pitched and terrible English accent: And the piper shall pipe no moooore, for his weightily wielded instrument of pleasure has been weightily welded into the pavement.
Me: Stop, that’s terrible. Who told you to be English?
Garmin: *beeps mirthfully*
Garmin, back to normal: Are you sure you weren’t just winded? Here on the wood-winding road?
Me: Really. Stop.
. . . . .
Garmin: OH, I LOVE this song. Let’s run faster!
Me: *skip song*
. . . . .
Me: *timer stop*
Me: *blowing like a calving heifer*
Garmin: Ok, let’s see. That’s 2.4 miles…let me check the pace…in…um….in….YAY WE WENT RUNNING!
Me: Wisely said.
Garmin: So that half-marathon was really a one-and-done, then?
Me: Yup.
Garmin: See you Monday?
Me: See you Monday.
. . . . .
There’s a psychotic filbert grower carrying a bag of nuts behind you. Now RUN!
Sometimes I like to be topical and trendy. Right now, it seems like everyone is talking about holiday this, party that, oh, I’m gonna make these cheese balls with quinoa all over them and not eat them because I’m lactose intolerant, but you go ahead. Since I don’t really have “parties,” because that would involve a lot of “people,” I thought it might be fun to help you plan your party.
I spent some time thinking about a theme, because no one wants to have the same party as everyone else, right? I spent some time focusing on the word “hospitality.” I laid down in the middle of my floor and chanted that word for an hour using the voice of my ancestors. The long line of introverts behind me declined to help. “Hospitality,” I whispered. Inspiration struck. Hotels! A hotel themed party would be the very essence of hospitality. Looking around my suburban home, however, I couldn’t make it work. I just didn’t have enough rooms to give everyone their own room and still call it a party. Plus, some people might not be entirely charmed by spending their evening in the bathroom or the basement crawlspace. If you have a 40 room mansion, this might not be a problem you have, but you wouldn’t be talking to me either, so whatever.
How could I get more people in a small space? I still wanted the hospitality feeling, but I needed efficiency. I scrunched my knees up, covering my ears so I could think, and lightning struck! I could take my inspiration from the airlines! Read on to see how you could throw your own party just like a major airline.
Invitations
First, you have to invite all your friends to the party, of course. You’ll want to make sure you set your groundwork here. Make a list of all your friends. Then, divide up the list between your Best Friends and your Other Friends. For maximum efficiency, I suggest something like the example below.
Be sure to check the appropriate box before sending to prevent confusion.
Handling RSVPs
When your friends RSVP, you’ll want to make sure you exchange some important information. Absolutely confirm if they are bringing a date or any other baggage. This is the perfect time to let them know they need to arrive at least two hours early.
Greeting Your Guests
Your guests should start arriving long before the actual party is to start. Have them form an orderly line outside the front door. You will want to put the Best Friends closest to the house to ensure they get inside before anyone else. This is a good time to make sure no one has brought an unexpected guest. If anyone in line is not covered by a confirmed RSVP, inform them they are on Party Standby. If there is any room after all confirmed guests have entered the party, these unexpected guests can enter on a first-come/first-served basis.
Walk down the line and observe what people are carrying. Anyone with a hostess gift should be pulled out of line and searched for other contraband. Since most people don’t have metal detectors at home, you’ll have to improvise here. If you’re curious about what your coworker has in that stupid designer purse, or you want to see if Bill from high school is still carrying joints in his pocket, make a high-pitched whining noise as you “wand” them and insist they dump out their purse or pockets.
Weeeoooooweeeeooooweeeoooo. Sorry, I’m going to have to search that.
No matter how clear you are on the invitation, there are always latecomers. At the time the party is scheduled to start, lock the door and don’t let anyone else in. That’s the price of being a Rude Roscoe, my friend, see you next year.
Party Down
The key to a party that everyone enjoys? The atmosphere and the refreshments! First, you’ll want to make sure everyone’s comfortable. Because we’re trying to get as many guests in as efficiently as possible, I’ve done a model layout for you.
You may want to have a special area with larger squares for your Best Friends.
The refreshments are another area requiring careful planning. It’s important to have enough for everyone, but not necessarily the same things for everyone. I suggest creating multiple areas for drinks and food. Find your Best Friends and quietly suggest that they might want to check out the refreshments on the linen tablecloth, behind the curtain.
Please enjoy all this, my Best Friend, and let me know when you need a refill.
Holler “Grub’s on!” loudly to the Other Friends and gesture to the folding card table where you’ve set up the cheap stuff.
One per guest, please, if I have extras you may ask for another.
Entertainment
Let’s face it, people are not coming to your party for the entertainment. Go to a Redbox, close your eyes, and point to the display of movies at random. Rent this movie. Play it with the sound completely off in your living room. If someone cares about what Vin Diesel is saying, they can stand very close to the screen and read his lips.
Winding Down
If you’re following along, you should be having a really adequate party at this point. People will be awkwardly mingling with the person in the assigned seat next to them. Your Best Friends will be drunk and joining the Mistletoe Club elsewhere in the house. It’s important to end the party with the same tasteful efficiency as you began it. Put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and carry a small wastebasket liner to each party guest. Grab their cups out of their hands and throw them away regardless of contents. Once you’ve done this, announce to everyone that the party is over, thank them for coming, and wish them an enjoyable holiday season at their own homes.
Important Last Note
Once you’ve signaled that party is over, make it clear that everyone is to leave as quickly as possible by standing at the open front door with a basket of party favors. Hand one to each guest as they leave, counting as they depart. It wouldn’t do to have a party guest stranded in your house overnight!
This may sound like a lot of work for a couple of hours of party time. While I’m sure you’re sold on the money-saving refreshment tiers, you might wonder if it’s worth going the extra mile for your guests. Yes. You have to stop focusing on the journey, and look toward the destination. You’ll avoid the “same old holiday party” trap. People will be talking about your party for years to come. Bonne fête!
Thank you for choosing our party. Please come again.
It was a good run.
There’s been a lot of back on forth lately (mostly forth) about some really outrageous things in the news. You may have been tempted by the delicious aroma of moral superiority. You may have even taken a bite. I’m sure it tasted oh-so-good, but I have a question for you.
Do you even know where your outrage was manufactured?
Most people assume that because they are personally having the outrage, it’s locally sourced. But how do you know your outrage is wholesome organic outrage, not some pre-packaged, processed frankenfit? For all you know, Big Aggro is importing your outrage from an overseas factory server farm! They aren’t even required to label it!
Manufactured outrage is full of toxins that slowly poison you from the inside out. These toxins may make your outrage look better, or feel better, but they’ve been proven to cause tight sphincters, jerking knees, and hurting butts. Did you know that compounded outrage is addictive, just like heroin? It’s no mistake that they call it website “hits.”
The healthiest course of action is probably to avoid outrage altogether. It’s not necessary to anyone’s well-being, and the risks of it being a processed, additive-laden nightmare are high. If you just can’t go without a little outrage in your life, though, here’s an alternative to supporting Big Aggro:
Be outraged about things within a 25 mile radius of yourself.
Support local outrage, and know that your outrage is genuine, organic outrage grown right in your backyard.
You came into my room last night
Your body woke you
Clutching the tiny flashlight we gave you
In front with both hands
Braving the journey one door down
Body quieted, you climbed into my bed
Mind unsettled
Unaware of your own thrashing
You pulled the pink blanket up to your nose
The one I fetched without request
Sank into my sanctuary and
Breathed in my sleep
As fearless as my tiny Thing Two is, she sometimes needs to borrow some of my brave to get back to sleep. I wrote this after one of these nights when she uncertainly came in, not knowing what to do, and let me take care of her. I don’t mind if she steals my sleep. I’ll sleep later.
About 18 months ago, I decided to start this fantasy novel thing. I’d had an Idea, and it wasn’t letting me ignore it (much like the two-year-old I also had), and I thought I’d better just write it so it would stop pestering me. Much to my surprise, I seem to have cobbled enough stolen hours together to finish it.
I’m not done yet, but I am coasting into the last chapter, and the big climactic scene went in the file today. I also have three pages of notes on Book Two, and a rough idea of Book Three, and there’s Four and Five, if I get there. Cart, horse, I know.
In a couple of weeks, I’ll be editing. I. Love. Editing. I know I need to rewrite the whole beginning (of course, and for the second time), and the rest needs continuity and serious improvement. I wrote it an hour at a time while the little girl was at preschool two mornings a week…in all honesty, it’s probably a hot mess. So much room for improvement! That excites me, because I’m really, really strange.
My goal of a readable draft by Christmas is doable. I’ve been hanging out admiring myself today over that. I know that when the handful of early reader copies go out for big picture feedback, I’m going to be a nervous wreck. Then rewrite, then figure out the crazy publishing world and see if anybody wants to take a chance on it. If not, figure out the crazy self-publishing world, I think.
Thanks for hanging around to see what happens. You helped.
A lot of people I know eat sushi, and I can’t really capture the essence of why. They’re not all doing it to look cool, because I know some of them care about cool as much as I care about One Direction. They are not restricted to sushi because of some allergy to everything else. Many of them claim to “enjoy” it. I think they maybe just haven’t really gone to the trouble of understanding what is motivating their food. No, I didn’t leave off “choices.” What does your food want? Specifically, how does the food feel about YOU?
Deep down, on a literally visceral level, I believe all meat and seafood is trying to kill me. This is not some kind of granola theory about “toxins” or some medically based cholesterol or whatnot issue. I think meat is just waiting for its chance to get you. If you don’t handle it like a bomb counting down to zero on your countertop, BOOM! Cross-contamination!! I mean—it’s not even 100% dead until it’s cooked, people. There is still some tiny vestigial spark of life in there, and it hates you. Meat will poison you faster than a Weird Sister and to hell with iambic pentameter.
Seafood is the absolute worst. It remembers the freedom of the ocean, and it wants to get back into the sea as quickly as possible. If it hurts you a little on the way out…all the better. Given the high level of bad feeling toward you, it seems pretty irresponsible to eat it raw. One of the most common food poisoning bugs is salmonella. It’s not a mistake that it says “salmon” right in there. The salmon can hate you so much that you get sick from some lettuce.
Because I believe meat is harboring a grudge, I allegedly overcook it¹. I am not overcooking it. I am cooking the revenge out of it. A piece of meat that has been heated through to the recommended temperature is not only properly dead at that point, but it will not come back as a zombie chop or tilapia walker. It has been neutralized. There is plenty of barbeque sauce at Costco to rehydrate your meat, so I’d really rather not hear any complaints about my nice, safe chicken.
Oh, and before you accuse me of knocking something I haven’t tried, I have eaten sushi. In fact, I ate sushi in Japan. Sort of. It was on a Japanese airline, anyway, which is the same thing. No, it didn’t make me sick, but it didn’t make me happy, either. Since I can assert my womanhood with just the wasabi, thank you very much, I’ll continue putting it in my cocktail sauce and mashed potatoes. If you “like” sushi, all the more for you. Don’t ever forget, though, that your harmless indulgence is seasoned with the collective vengeance of millions of tuna. Tuna never forget.
[1] Citation: My husband, who thinks those temperature recommendations from the USDA are just suggestions, not THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP HIM SAFE.
I’ll start off by letting you all in on a big thing. I have written thousands of words in the last few months. Some of them are very cleverly put together. Some of them are put together as if the dictionary had the stomach flu, but I’ll fix that later. But… BUT…If I’m writing all these words, WHERE ARE THEY?!? Right? And why am I writing about writing when I said I wasn’t going to do that?
I’m not publishing anything because I am writing a novel. Given that I am also caring for Things One and Two full-time, this is being accomplished in the three and a half hours a week that they are both in preschool at the same time. It *is* being accomplished, though. As I dig my way through Chapter 3, one stolen prison dining hall teaspoon at a time, I believe it’s actually going to make it all the way to Chapter 12. It’s a fantasy novel. I’m not at liberty to go into detail, because the idea is…well…novel. I don’t want to spill the beans until I actually have the thing in hand. It’s outlined, timelined, and I know what the two follow-up books would be in major plot strokes. I love the main characters. I think fantasy readers will, too. I can’t even say it’s “insert famous book”-like. It’s new. It’ll be interesting as long as I just let it be what it needs to be.
Given that I have the opportunity to take a wonderful idea and fully realize it (at least to the extent of my capability), I’m putting the blog on official hiatus. I’ll post a thingy here and there when the mood strikes me, but I need to reserve those three hours a week to work on the novel. At the rate I’m going, I expect to have a first draft in about a year and a half from when I started writing. If I can speed that up, I will, but hey….that really isn’t that long. I’ll leave the blog open, and if something strikes me funny, I’ll share it. I probably won’t be doing any of the long pictures and humor posts for a while, though–while I love those, they take a lot of time. It takes me hours and hours to sound quite that slap-dash, and even more time to carefully plan and stage those most professional pictures.
So… I’m not really writing about writing. I’m writing about how glad I am that I can just say, “Not this year, honey,” to the blog without impacting my financial outlook. If there’s someone who is disappointed that they won’t see more of the humor pieces…I hope you’ll like the novel. There’s plenty of wry humor in it so far.
I also wanted to say how thankful I am for this blog. I was encouraged to do this by several friends, one in particular, and it made me think that writing was something I wanted to make time for. That opened the door to the bigger possibilities… I think if I hadn’t already been writing, I would have let the idea for the novel wither off into the ether. For everyone who is following me, or has liked or commented on something–thanks, man. You’re the best. I also know that you’ll understand why I am choosing to spend my limited time where I am.
Light a candle for me every Thursday and Friday between 9:00AM and 10:45AM PST, excluding holidays and teacher inservice days. That’s when my Martha Stewart lifestyle gets put on hold while I live the dream.
YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY 