Thursday, September 30, 2010
The Nugget: MOM! I am not a baby anymore, I don't need to hold your hand!
Me: (Dies a little inside) OK... can I at least get a kiss or are you too old for that, too?
The Nugget: Nobody is ever too old for a kiss.
Ain't that the truth.
As a rule, I usually don't like most of what I hear or read. No, really, I don't. It's because, in my opinion, most people are inherently full of shit or have absolutely no clue about what they're talking about. They'll extrapolate the fuel for their fire to prove a point, completely ignoring the rest of the content, which would invalidate their point.Then there's just bad writing (*cough*Chuck Palahniuk*cough*).
It really gets my goat, y'all.
Just because I don't happen to like what you say or write, doesn't mean I think you should stop saying or writing it. I'm not going to ask my local library to ban your book, or call your producer and have him fire you. That would be insane. You know what I'll do instead? Turn off the radio (I don't have cable, so changing the channel is rather moot for me), put the book down or stop reading the article. It's really that simple.
Let me go on the record, again, as saying I am not a Christian. In fact, I find most organized religion rather hypocritical, but Christianity takes first prize in the hypocrisy contest (hey all you Presbyterians! Thanks for still going to the church my grandfather's family established. No, they really they did.). I'm not going to go running around to libraries and bookstores demanding that the bible be banned, or anything written by a Christian author be removed from the shelves. I'm not going to ask the FCC to remove Christian broadcasts from the airwaves. Why? Because I have the option to just not read it or listen to it. That's right, I can choose.
I can choose whether or not I want The Trolls to be exposed to viewpoints I don't agree with, or to let them be exposed to explicit (sexually and otherwise) material, violence, radical concept or alternative lifestyles.
When people insist on banning or removing a book, it speaks volumes about the character of that person (or lack thereof). It reeks of laziness and implies that you think that your opinion is the only one that matters. And you know what? I can choose to ignore you and go ahead and read those banned books.
Actually, that's exactly what I'm going to do. To celebrate Banned Book Week, I am going to have The Trolls read the Bill of Rights, specifically:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
And we will be reading To Kill a Mockingbird together. If we have time, we might even get to Huck Finn.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Eventually, I think I'll have to set up some tabs or something for all the different themes I keep turning blog posts into. Today's theme: 12 Things... The "12 Things" series will be a list of -- you guessed it -- 12 things that I like, inspire me, aggravate me, make me smile or whatever other thing that I can list in 12 bullet points.
I'm all about the themes, y'all!
I've been having a rough couple of days. I've lost sight of my center and have felt rather wonky -- not to mention hive-y. Because I need a little positivity -- and because life is just a little too real right now -- my first 12 Things entry is...
12 Things That Make Me Happy
1. Rainy Days -- swear to God, I have the opposite of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm happier when it's cloudy and rainy perpetually than when it's constantly sunny. Yes, I am aware of the irony of my living in the Sunshine State. I am also aware that my living in Florida speaks volumes about my masochistic tendencies.
2. A Good Book -- I read a lot. No, I mean a lot. When I moved to Florida, I moved with 400 books -- and those were just the ones I couldn't bear to part with. So when I say "a good book" I don't mean the average good book. I'm talking about the book you just can't put down, even if not putting it down means that you're only going to get 3 hours of sleep the night before a big presentation at work, and that you can't stop thinking about during said presentation. The all consuming book.
3. Snuggling in Bed -- this one is new for me, but man alive! Do I love it -- especially when The Boyfriend™ and I wake up before the alarm and he grabs me and cuddles up again, and we both go back to sleep. Tied for first is when one or both of The Trolls sneak into my bed for a not-quite-awake-enough-for-breakfast snuggle. This is also the other reason I love weekends so much -- I can stay snuggled up until my bladder is near to bursting... or The Trolls get hungry.
4. When My iPod Gets the Shuffle Right -- most of the time, when I put my iPod on shuffle, it does horrible and unspeakable things to the combination of songs. Unholy unions between rock and classical; hip hop and alternative. I mean, it's to the point where I'm all, "Who the bloody hell put this tripe on here?!" But every once-in-a-while, the shuffle gets it so right and so perfect that I can't find a pen fast enough to write down the song order, so I can make a new play list.
5. A Good Cup of Coffee -- There is nothing like a bad cup of coffee to ruin a perfectly good day. The best way to start a day (other than morning nookie) -- a good cup of coffee.
6. The Zone -- you know that head space where everything clicks, colors blend, lines draw themselves, and words flow as if they wrote themselves? It's that place where you are no longer in control and it's the art that flows through you, as if Michelangelo possessed your body and your apartment is the new Sistine Chapel.
7. Life's Little Ways of Making You Smile No Matter How Crappy You Feel -- You know when you're having a really shit day and everything sucks out loud and you don't know whether you want to rip your skin off or cry yourself to sleep? Then, out of nowhere, you see a drunk guy on a bicycle or hear a toddler swear and you just HAVE to laugh.
8. My Yellow-Striped Pajama Pants - It's kind of silly, but those jammie bottoms are comfortable beyond all reason. Not only are they comfy, but I always feel sexy as hell when I wear them (I know! Right?!) What more could you ask for in a pair of pajama pants?
9. 3 AM -- There is something exquisitely empty about that time of day (night?). As a consummate night owl -- and a mildly agoraphobic one at that -- I appreciate those moments when the world feels beautifully and magically all mine.
10. Diffused Light in the Woods -- There's really no good way to explain this one; you'd really have to experience it first-hand, but there is a distinctly ethereal quality to the light in the woods. I want to live in that light all the time.
11. Fairies, Gnomes and Other Magical Creatures -- Supposedly they don't exist, but I'm not entirely buying it. And the idea that they might exist -- at least in someone's imagination -- is good enough for me. Maybe my nana read The Hobbit to me too many times.
12. Stolen Moments -- You know when you take a mental health day from work or when you leave the laundry in the drier? Those are the moments where you feel equally guilty and rebellious because you stole back your time from all of the shoulds and have tos, but you just couldn't resist. I try to steal as many of those moments as possible.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
But you know what? Defective is OK. Actually, strike that -- defective is fucking fantastic!
When we say no, or when we follow our dreams or true callings -- people might be disappointed in our choices. Allowing people their disappointment sets us free." (Attributed to Christine Kane, from Boho Girl's blog)
Living authentically has always been difficult for me -- mostly due to my innate fear of disappointing anyone. I mean, it could be a distant cousin, the stranger in the passing car, or the telemarketer on the phone -- I don't want to disappoint any one of them. Most especially though, I don't want to let my family down.
I'm rather phobic about it, actually.
My disappointment phobia is a fairly large hindrance to living my most authentic life, because living the way I want to will inevitably disappoint someone -- most likely my parents. I will undoubtedly make a choice for my life that someone else would not have made for me.
Woah. Wait. Let's pause here and take a look at that last sentence. It encapsulates my thought process rather nicely:
I. Will. Undoubtedly. Make. A. Choice. For. My. Life. That. Someone. Else. Would. Not. Have. Made. For. Me.
Anyone else see something wrong with that? Yeah, me too.
That very disturbing sentence really does explain why I am constantly afraid of trying... of succeeding... of failing... of taking a stand... taking what's mine... of being brave... of saying, "This is YOUR prejudice. I will NOT let it inhibit my life anymore!"
I will honor my authenticity -- and all that fabulous defects that go along with it. I declare:
I will try...
I may stumble and fall, but...
I will get back up.
I will succeed!
And while I'm at it, I'm changing the definition of defective, too!
With or without anyone's approval, MY life begins now!
Monday, September 27, 2010
How could I have fallen so far and so fast? Why does meat have to taste so good?!
I'm not going to let a little set back like scallops and steak binge deter me from going vegetarian. I am simply going to start the clock over. My 30 days starts tomorrow (it can't start today, since I've already consumed more chili than is reasonable or sane).
And in other news...
I've hit a rut, artistically speaking. I've been feeling blocked for a week or two and just can't seem to unblock. This might have something to do with raging PMS, then my bout of scurvy/typhoid/malaria, then some other life issues cropping up; I just don't have the head space for art right now. There are too many have to's and shoulds in my life that are beyond my control (which is difficult for someone like me, who is a consummate control freak). So in an effort to not feel so chaotic and discombobulated, I am simply going to do what I can. No more, no less.
Which means, of course, that I'm going to try to do everything because sitting still makes me feel panicky and fidgety.
And I wonder why The Boyfriend™ has doubts about living with me.
Friday, September 24, 2010
|The Trolls and our cousin, Ilana. This was torture for her|
Here are a few samples of some of my photography. I'm still learning how to capture images, and I don't know how to use Photoshop. But, these make me happy, so I'm spreading some of the love around.
|Ahh... nothing like relaxing by some anarchy. In the alley|
|Pensive Nugget -- subtitled: waiting for the crabs to bite|
|Macro photography! This rose makes me happy|
|The Trolls. The Monkey was not loving the camera this day|
|White box photography|
|I like random pieces of wood as my photographic subjects.|
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Warning: I mention "tragedy," "appropriately" and chaise lounges about 150,456 times. It's because I absolutely REFUSE to be suffering from something as common as a cold. Because that wouldn't be tragic... or appropriate... enough.
Me: Speaking of shocking, in case you were not aware, I am dying. From something appropriately tragic
The Nancarita: What a coincidence! I, too, am dying of something appropriately tragic. I'm spending my days in bed. I've discovered that I really like spending my days in bed.
Me: Maybe I'm having a symbiotic response to your dying. And it will be all Little Women and stuff... except that wasn't very Victorian.
Me: And damn you, BTW, for dying. Now I can't whine and beg and plead for you to watch The Trolls tomorrow.
The Nancarita: Of course you can! There's nothing about my dying that precludes me spending time with my angels. I'll just enconse myself on the couch rather than my bed. I'll make The Monkey bring me peppermint puffy candy. It'll be fun.
Me: The Nugget will gladly do your laundry, too (no. Really. He will... he likes it)
The Nancarita: I'm liking this plan better and better. And yes... I've noticed that he likes laundry. He's fascinated with our washer. He likes to measure the laundry products for me. It's adorable. He even helps me sort the laundry.
Me: AND he loves doing dishes. I don't know whose son he is, but he's not mine.
The Nancarita: He's my grandson.
Me: I reward The Nuggets's good behavior at school with laundry and dishes. He couldn't be happier.
Have I mentioned how much I love my trolls? Because, fo'real, it's insane the love I feel.
The Nancarita: I loves me some grandsons, too. And I MISS them. It's really pissing me off that your life is interfering with my grandson time.
Me: LOL! My life is interfering with your grandson time? What life? I sit at home and mourn my youth while simultaneously amusing myself by making my children do chores.
The Nancarita: I just ate about a hundred puffy peppermints and now have to slip quietly into a sugar coma.
Me: ROFL! Oh, look! You're being all tragic, too. That is fabulous!
The Nancarita: Aw, fuck. No sugar coma. I have to give The Sister a ride. Well.. I don't HAVE to, but I can't think of a single good reason not to (other than preferring the whole tragic coma from puffy peppermint idea), so I need to go find a clean bra.
The Nancarita: And, bee-tee-double-yew, do you not totally love the notion of a puffy-peppermint-induced coma?
Me: I love it so much, that I am now officially dying from a puffy-peppermint-induced coma. Tragically.
The Nancarita: Don't you need to actually eat some puffy peppermints first? I'm not an expert or anything, but I'm pretty sure that you can't die from the mere *idea* of puffy peppermint.
The Nancarita: Also... I fully expect to see some of this conversation on the wall of instant message infamy on your blog.
Me: You absolutely can die from the IDEA of eating puffy peppermint!! It happens ALL. THE. TIME.
Me: I will post this on my blog. Why? Because it amuses me so.
The Nancarita: I have GOT to get out more.
Me: I've also decided that I need one of those chaise lounge-thingies so that I can die tragically and appropriately.
Edit: The Nancarita seems to think that excerpting a conversation exactly how it took place needs to be cleaned up and refined before you post it, and so she asked me to edit this post. So I am... in my own way.
The Nancarita: Me: You absolutely can die from the IDEA of eating puffy peppermint!! It happens ALL. THE. TIME.
The Nancarita: Really? I have GOT to get out more.
Me: I've also decided that I need one of those chaise lounge-thingies so that I can die tragically and appropriately.
The Nancarita: Edit the existing as precedes.
The Nancarita: Also, I would have wound up that discussion with "And let's not forget the whole LIVING tragically and appropriately -- or at least *lounging* that way."
Me: Oh nononono... there will be no editing. Well, NOW I might edit, but only to include this part of the conversation as the postscript.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
When I want strange combinations of food, that's how I know I'm getting sick.
I am going to honor the messages my ailing body is sending me, and relax. My immune system's inability to fight off this cold is a gentle reminder that I am human.
So I am going to take the next couple of days to recharge, get healthy and un-block.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
I (we) have seedlings coming out of my ears these days, which is just so tremendous. It just feels so wonderful to finally be able to grow something, that now I feel like I could cure cancer. Single-handedly. With my green thumb.
If I can grow vegetables, thereby curing cancer, then why is this composting thing so damn difficult?!
The plan for my (our) garden is to be as organic as possible, using only natural pesticides and fertilizers whenever possible. Not only should this keep my and The Boyfriend's™ gardening costs down, but would mostly ensure that we won't be poisoned by our own vegetables.
So yeah, composting. Who knew something as seemingly simple as a compost pile could be so diverse and complicated?
You have your in-house versions, one of which relies on fermentation rather than decomposition. Then you have the other more traditional versions, that rely on decomposition.
You have your outdoor methods - and this is where it gets tricky. Do you want a bin or to let it free stand? Do you want to include kitchen waste or just garden waste? And, if you do include kitchen waste, is it strictly vegetable and fruit scraps or will you include animal-sourced scraps as well?
It appears composting involves a bit of science and is not as simple as one might think:
- Not enough aerating, your compost pile might get mold.
- Not the right temperature (did you know there's such a thing as a composting thermometer? Yeah, neither did I), and your compost pile can develop unhelpful fungi, stop fermenting/decomposing, or experience a host of other heretofore unknown [by me] compost-related issues.
- Apparently, slugs, maggots and their ilk are a good thing to have in your compost pile.
- But not unpleasant odors.
And really? Decomposition isn't supposed to smell like, well, rotting stuff?
The plaguing question for me is how do you know when the pile is ready to use? How you know when your rotting pile of refuse is done decomposing enough to dump into your vegetable garden? Jesus wept** -- when do you stop composting?
...Or do you ever really stop? Is it the compost pile that never ends?
*The Boyfriend™ has helped-ish. So I feel morally obligated to include him, albeit marginally.
**I have been dying to use that phrase for, like, forever.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
...Or, as it turns out, any actual vegetables.
I've always admired those that can stand by their ethical convictions and not be swayed by temptations like bacon. These same people have found a satisfaction in life with the spartan diets that I envy, and I wish I could emulate, but that my hedonistic nature can't wrap its mind around.
I mean, I really like bacon. Bacon is God's way of saying He loves you! How can I commit to a diet or ethical stance that prohibits the consumption of God's love by way of BACON?!
As I mentioned previously, the whole end goal of my life list is to:
A. Make a decent living from my artistic endeavors
B. Live off the grid
In my mind, living of the grid means living in a sustainable way, one that does not unnecessarily tap into resources that aren't essential. Since a hell of a lot of good farm land goes toward the raising and grazing of commercial cattle, it seems to me that one step toward living off the grid is to step away from consuming meat (bacon isn't meat, is it?).
Good idea in theory, but did I mention that I am naturally a hedonist? And I really like steak. And bacon.
Knowing my nature and knowing that austerity is just not a lifestyle choice I can embrace, I'm going to go ahead and try this vegetarian thing [again] anyway -- for real this time, too -- but with a few of conditions:
-Because I'm allergic to most alternate protein sources, like eggs, I will allow myself fish from time to time. But only if it's ethically farmed or not fished from endangered groups.
-Dairy products are also allowed. I said vegetarian, not vegan. And yes, I know, a lot of farm land also goes to grazing commercial dairy cattle, too. Baby steps, y'all. Baby steps.
-I am only initially committing to vegetarianism for 30 days. That's right, only a month.
-I get two bacon days in that month.
I figure quitting meat is like quitting smoking -- you have to set yourself achievable goals. If I absolutely forbid myself a couple of cheat days, I'll be hoarking down five pounds of bacon, while hiding in my closet -- which is where the EMTs will find me after I go into cardiac arrest. If I tell myself that I'm completely changing my lifestyle to become vegetarian, then I will rebel. I know me, I don't even like self-imposed rules (and I wonder where The Trolls get their anti-authoritarianism from). 30 days is definitely do-able.
My life list goal of growing my own vegetables will come in handy, too, because I'll have ready access to things like peppers, carrots, lettuce and tomatoes -- all organically raised. Plus, this whole veggie schtick will give me the opportunity to try new and inventive recipes. If all goes according to plan, The Trolls will learn about making healthier choices with their diets, too.
Anything I try out, recipe-wise, I'll post on here so y'all can give it a whirl (because sharing is caring). Rest assured, I'm a foodie. I know from good eats. If it sucks, I won't put it up here.
30 Days begins... well, yesterday.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Boyfriend™ dresses up like a pirate. I love him in spite of it... or because of it. I haven't decided yet.
|Yeah. He really does dress up like a pirate.|
|These are The Boyfriend's feet. In his sandals. God help me|
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Despite my most valiant efforts, the rosemary seems to not be faring well. I wonder if this is due to the pot I used (recycled from first attempt).
I am VERY excited by this progress!!
*Update: You know that expression about chickens and not counting them? Yeah, the tarragon took a shitter yesterday, when I accidentally knocked over the pot. I saw seedlings scattered. It made me sad. Here's hoping the seedlings I salvaged will make it.
Life List Goal #86 - To write a children's book based on my gram's life (get it published) - and other thoughts about creativity
Whenever I pre-plan an art project, I have to let it germinate. Germination times vary, however. If I let it sit too long, I lose interest and the idea goes away. If I dive right in, the results are often piss poor and result in a lot of wasted art supplies, which is neither environmental nor fiscally friendly, (my salary from the day job can only allow for a very limited art supply budget, and The Trolls didn't sign on for the "starving" part of the starving artist gig). If it's a project of worth (aren't they all?), I have to keep an eye on it, but without keeping an eye on it. It's a delicate balance.
I knew I wanted to write a children's book about my gram for a while. Looking at pictures of her from when she was a kid, she was always the one making the funny faces while her sisters posed politely and appropriately for the pictures. She was impish and tomboy-ish, all qualities necessary for the hero of a children's book. Plus, she's got a great name for a character, Dottie, which saves me the trouble of coming up with one. Above all, though, she's my gram and I love her to bits and I think it would delight her to know end to see herself as a children's book character.
But I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the illustration part. Would I do literal interpretations of the stories? Would I try to sketch images from the photographs? Should the pictures be sort of the nonsequitor element of the story? In color? Black and white? I couldn't decide, so I just sat on the idea coming back to it every once-in-a-while. I'd roll it around, decide I didn't quite have it, put it away, take it back out... basically, it's the hokey pokey of projects.
In a moment of... something (I don't know what word I'm looking for here)... the illustration piece came to me, so I'm going to start hammering those out this week. The pieces will be inspired by gram - kind of like movies that are "based" on books are more "inspired" by the book - rather than literal interpretations of her life. I'm very excited and will try to post pictures of the illustrations.
I don't want to get too far ahead of myself and think about the "get it published" portion of the goal. I know I can get it published, what with the plethora of self-publishing options out there. If it's good enough, I may try to get it actually published, published. But in the mean time, I don't want to put that kind of pressure on myself.
Close, but unrelated side topic: it interests me that the muse seems to speak to me mostly when I just don't feel like doing anything, when I'm not feeling "it," and when I'd like nothing more than to sit on my ass and contemplate the bottom of a bag of Cheetos. But this is also when I'm at my most neutral, mood-wise. I can't make good art when I'm depressed or happy; I'm too vested in the emotion. When I'm feeling neutral, but may not actually be neutral, the emotion can sort of just flow through me and come out in the work.
|The Monkey and The Nugget - Chincoteague Island, VA 2009|
I can see what I'm about to say coming back to haunt me by way of various future therapy bills, but that's OK. When I found out I was pregnant with The Monkey, I set up a therapy fund rather than a college fund. After all, the poor kid has me for a mother.
When I was younger and a hell of a lot less smart than I am today, I didn't want kids. Kids were nice from a distance, but that's where they needed to stay -- in the distance. To actually have my own kids would completely interfere with my life's plan to be the child my parents didn't want to talk about. In retrospect, I suppose having kids wouldn't necessarily nullify my dream of being the child my parents didn't want to talk about, but I didn't know that at the time.
About three or so years into my relationship with The Ex (who, by the by, is a drummer. All part of the aforementioned plan), I found out I was pregnant with The Monkey. This is the part of this blog entry where I should fill you in on back story, but I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that when I saw those two pink lines on the stick, after I was able to stop thinking "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" I listened to my heart and it said, "It's time. This is your child and we will love him fiercely."
Not quite nine months later, The Monkey was born (he looked like Curious George).
The Monkey is serendipity.
The Nugget was very much a planned child. Of course, The Nugget does things in his own way, on his own terms, when he's ready and he decided to grace my uterus with his presence precisely when The Ex and I decided to stop trying to have another baby & went about making other life plans. Because that's when he was ready to show up. He was also two weeks late and I had to forcibly evict him from the confines of my abdomen.
He's still like that. The school years are proving to be a challenge.
My trolls frustrate me, infuriate me, have caused me to go prematurely gray. If a day goes by that I'm not yelling at one of them for something, I mark it on the calendar.
But none of that really matters, because that's just typical kid stuff. We're all still learning about each other.
What does matter is the unique ability they have to melt my heart. They taught me what love really is. They opened me up to the all the possibility and potential in the world (I hope I'm returning the favor).
Today, I'm grateful for my kids.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
|As I took the picture, she said, "OH GOD! You're gonna blog about this, aren't you?"|
|The Boyfriend™ is fuzzy. Also, that is a tattoo of a tree. It is not a weird vein-type-thingy.|
Again, I must note: how can you not love a man who is willing to let you put lipstick on him so you can post a picture of it on your blog?!
Part of my journey is learning how to be grateful for what is, right now, not what I wished and wished and wished for and has finally come true. It's hard to be grateful for the here-and-now, especially when the here-and-now is rather bland or routine.It takes a fair amount of patience (which I lack) and skill (again -- something I lack) to not look forward or behind, to not focus on results and to merely be. Thankfully, the God* I know is patient with process and understands that I will most definitely fall.
|Heart-shaped leaf. Photography by me|
When I think about my spiritual journey and my progress on my path, my thoughts invariably turn to my friends. People like The Best Friend® and Miguelito -- the only two people who know absolutely all there is to know about me, and the only people I would trust with that knowledge. Or Adrienne, who I can still count among my friends even though we'll go literal years without speaking to one another, and who is the keeper of the closet where I hide many of my skeletons. Then there's Mischka, who's kindness and selflessness got me through the last few and very difficult months back in Massachusetts.
And all my other friends, who would forgive me for not citing them specifically in this post, because they know that I would never, ever deliberately omit them... except for right now. And only because it's too early in the morning for rambling, run-on paragraphs. Not that they aren't worthy or good enough to be written about in rambling, run-on paragraphs, but only that I am tired and under-caffeinated to write the aforementioned paragraph.
These people are my chosen family. I could no more separate myself from them (even when they beg and plead for me to just leave them the hell alone already!) than I could my children. These people are my psychic innards.
Today, I am grateful for my friends.
*I do not used the word "God" typically here. When I say "God" I mean "the He/She/It that created us all, whether it be Allah, Jesus, Krishna, Buddha or Einstein." Basically, I use "God" for conversational ease.
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Actual Life List (and last post for today... maybe... I'm making up for lack of posting yesterday. Yeah, that's it)
Learn how to make a chevron pattern friendship bracelet. DONE
- Make those friendship bracelets for my friends.
- Go back to San Francisco and visit all the touristy places I missed the first time I was there.
- Visit Seattle
- Visit Colorado (I’m thinking Boulder)
- Get my passport
- Get divorced (about ½-way there… paperwork is done, etc)
- Own an outrageous and unnecessary red dress
- Have the fairy princess wedding of my dreams (I don’t actually have “wedding dreams,” but I’d like to have “the show.” I eloped the first time)
- Host an adult dinner party.
- Cook a five-course gourmet meal.
- Eat Chinese food in bed with The Boyfriend™ (maybe even feed it to each other)
- Be passionately kissed in the rain.
- Travel through Europe.
- Hike the Appalachian Trail.
- Take a road trip whose sole purpose is to stop at every tourist trap and historic landmark along the way.
- Go to New Orleans.
- [Redacted – I considered leaving it, but this one is just this side of too personal]
- Go back to college and earn my degree in something useless, like business.
- Be recognized for my art.
- Be a published author (specifically with books that are written and illustrated by me).
- Make my own pottery
- Learn how to sculpt
- Learn how to salsa dance – for real.
- Learn how to properly cook five French dishes (two of these are done).
- Visit an ashram in India.
- Visit India
- Visit China.
- Ride in a hot air balloon (I have a late appearing mild fear of heights, so this will kill a couple birds with one stone).
- Visit Africa.
- Make my own ice cream.
- Make my own olive oil infusions.
- Attend Burning Man.
- Go to Macchu Picchu.
- [Redacted – it’s in my journal, but too personal for the blog]
- Learn how to speak Italian
- Learn how to speak German
- Learn how to speak Spanish
- Own a Craftsman-style house.
- Learn to crochet.
- Crochet an afghan.
- Get my nose pierced.
- Photograph indigenous people in Africa, Burma, Sudan, Bali, and the Easter Islands.
- Attend a drum circle.
- Visit Tibet.
- Ring in the New Year in Times Square.
- Taste 50 different types of rum (I’m up to eight, so far).
- Visit Hadrian’s Wall.
- Visit Stonehenge.
- Take a trapeze lesson.
- Have truffles in Paris.
- See the aurora borealis.
- Learn how to process my own film.
- Kiss the Blarney Stone.
- Contemplate my navel – or figure out exactly what that means (I looked it up, so I know what it means. I only consider this one ½ done).
- Go two weeks without a clock or calendar.
- Learn how to juggle.
- Learn how to belly dance.
- Become a licensed massage therapist.
- Work for Doctors without Borders.
- Grow my own herbs from seed to plant – without killing them (I’m on attempt 2)
- Grow my own vegetables (Thanks to The Boyfriend™ for starting this one for me)
- Cook a meal using only the herbs and vegetables that I grow.
- Put on my own gallery show, sell the art, and donate the proceeds to charity.
- Make a decent living from my art, be it through gallery shows, Internet sales, etc.
- Learn basic metal smithing.
- Make my own metal jewelry.
- Get a postcard from 20 different countries.
Take The Boyfriend™ home for Halloween (we have a trip planned for mid-October, because I happen to be going to a trade show during that time. I’m going to count this one as done, once we go and come back).Done (10/16/10)
- Go on a [redacted] getaway weekend with The Boyfriend™ and [redacted].
- Get an iPhone, iPad and a Macbook (yes, I’m an Apple fanboy)
- Make my own clothing that I would actually wear in public.
- Buy an African Violet and keep it alive.
- Planet lavender by my front door – keep it alive.
- Learn to ask for help – and ask for it.
- Own and wear a traditional Indian sari.
- Make kites from newspaper and fly them with my kids.
Make a fort in my living room with my kids. (DONE)
- Have a spa and makeover day with The Best Friend®
- Make a pinhole camera and take pictures with it.
- Take my own breath away.
- Quit smoking.
- Learn how to say “kiss me” in ten languages.
Learn how to say “I love you” in ten languages(DONE).
- Tell my kids I love them in ten languages.
- Write and illustrate a childrens’ book based on my gram’s childhood. Get it published.
- Read War and Peace – from start to finish.
- Understand algebra.
Jump in puddles with my kids(DONE)
- Learn woodworking and build my own furniture.
Bake my own bread(DONE)
- Own a Chincoteague pony.
Find and buy a Duaflex camera(DONE)
- To finally believe that I am, in fact, an artist.
- Taste 100 microbrew beers.
- Live off the grid.
- Learn to live simply.
- Be a bartender (I don’t know why, but the idea appeals to me).
- Make a tutu and wear it.
110. Travel to Turkey
111. Go to a Rainbow Gathering
112. Learn how to weld.
My original trip to San Francisco was for a trade show, so I didn't have a whole lot of time to really explore the city as much as I wanted to. Besides, those hills are a
While I didn't have a whole lot of time after the show to explore much, each place I wandered to captured my heart. San Francisco is a magical place. Which might be why The Charmed* ones hail from there.
China Town in San Francisco - 2007
*Please ignore my taste in television shows.
This is the blog post that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friends...(now try getting the song out of your head)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Don't let her sweet face fool you. Or the fact that she's a girl tell you differently - she's got balls the size of Texas and she ain't afraid to use them. She's cunning, too, using the cuteness and motor loud purr of hers to worm her way into - or onto - whatever she wants.
She growls when she eats. She also protectively hugs her food, like the nerd in class shielding his test answers from the kids who didn't study.
She uses her paws like hands.
She also likes to think she helps me blog.*
*Please ignore my taste in beer.
The purpose of the life list is to itemize those things you want to do in your lifetime... in no particular order. Writing the list is an exercise in free association: I want to do this, and then this. Oh! I want to do this, too!
Because my mind works in a rather sieve-like fashion, the smaller stuff tends to come out first. I get the crap out, then the significant thoughts are left there, to be sorted through and played with, like so many diamonds.
Which is why making a chevron pattern friendship bracelet was number one on my list. It's seemingly unimportance brought it to the top of the list.
...And I completed it last night!
The pattern is rather timing consuming and doesn't allow you to work in a normal linear bracelet making fashion. Which explains why the ability to make one has eluded me for so long. But it's done and I have a happy little check mark on my list.
I do so love check marks in boxes, signifying completion of an objective. I may even get a check mark as a tattoo.
I'm attempting goal #61 -to grow my own herbs from seed to plant- again. My first attempt was foiled due to some nefarious fire ants and my need to kill them. The poison must've gotten into the plants. Unfortunately, fire ants are nothing if not pervasive, so my need to kill them is an on-going battle. Que sera, sera.
This time, my strategy has changed, too. More herbs, more pots, keeping the whole set up off the ground. The rosemary in this picture is obviously not a seed, but I like rosemary and wanted it. Besides, I think it adds a little something to the overall "look." I am nothing if not in tune with overall "looks."
Interesting point about growing in Florida: you can plant as late as September. I have finally found a reason to be grateful for this constant heat!
Keep your fingers crossed for my little seeds!