At the Car Wash

Today I had 30 minutes to kill whilst I waited for The Lovely to do some banking. Actually, it ended up being more like an hour, but I knew I had 30 minutes for sure. Not enough time to drive out to the lake, which I have been itching to do for a few days now, and obviously not enough time to get in a nap.

: )

So I decided to go to the car wash.

Now, you might not know it to look at me, but when it comes to washing my car, I am this totally ultra-femme girlie-grrl: In other words, I have no desire to get out and actually wash — or as they might say in this town, warsh — my car. When I wash/warsh my car, I want to do it from the comfort of my car.

Which means automatic car washes for me, baby. Preferably ones with attendants, too, so that when I don’t have the correct change, someone is there to save my sorry ass.

I have had some issues with certain car washes, too. I have an ugly black smudge on the front left bumper from the nasty car wash out by Booger King; matter of fact, I completely avoid all of those places where you have to drive your car onto any kind of track, as I apparently am incapable of navigating my way through them.

I also have an issue with my driver’s side window: It leaks. It has always leaked. Probably, if it had been the one to get shattered by that rock last summer instead of the passenger-side window, it would no longer leak because I would have gotten a new window ... but, it didn’t; and, I didn’t; so, it still does. Which means I have to whip out the Kleenex every time the high-powered spray comes by or end up with a completely soaked seat belt and left shoulder.

Trouble is, the fully automatic car wash takes about 10 minutes, tops, and I had 30 minutes to kill. Plus, truthfully, there are times when you want more from a car wash; in other words, the birds in my ’hood have been hitting the mulberries pretty hard, which means their daily target practice on my car has taken on a definitely more, uhm, colorful tone.

I decided to check out my town’s newest car wash: The Dirtbuster!

It is located only two doors down from my regular car wash, on West Main Street. And I wasn’t too keen on washing my car right out on Main Street, but ... what the heck, anyone could see my car needed a good washin’/warshin’.

I crammed a $5 bill into the slot: 20 minutes. Perfect, considering I had spent at least 5 minutes deciding where to wash my car!

I put my car through the cycles: Pre-soak, tire cleaner, wash, rinse, tri-something or other (some kind of pleasant-smelling foamy stuff that spurted out of a little handgun-looking thingie), rinse, clear-coat, rinse and the spot-free rinse. Everything but the foamy brush. (I’ve heard that evil rocks can lurk in the bristles of the foamy brush. Avoid at all costs, or risk the ultimate peril!)

Midway through the second rinse cycle, I decided I was liking this car wash action. With my spraying wand, I felt a little like The Terminator, obliterating all the baked-on bird shit splotches and bug guts — well, until I would get tangled up in the hose that followed me and my weapon ’round and ’round the bay. I held the tri-something sprayer with two hands, Vic Mackey style, like I was bustin’ in on some gangstahs or sum’m sum’m (or however it’s spellt).

I must admit, ’twas kinda fun!

Plus my car looks awesome for the 24 hours or so after a good cleansing. Oh, it won’t last: I don’t have a garage ... which has always been my reasoning for not washing my car more often, ’cause it’s just gonna get messed up again, anyway ... which, actually, is all the more reason to wash it even more often than if I did keep it in a garage, now that I think about it.

Who knows, I had so much fun today, I might start going to the car warsh more often.

: )

Dinner Tonight

Have I mentioned that I love love LOVE grilling season?

Tonight’s menu:

• Appetizers — Vermont extra-sharp cheddar cheese on Ritz reduced-fat crackers (’cause I was really starving when I was preparing dinner!); grilled avocadoes (Julia’s recipe)
• Main course — Zucchini and summer squash sautéed with onion and butter (OK, I use margarine); grilled teriyaki chicken breast (marinated in this stuff for 30 minutes or so, the longer the better)
• Dessert — Breyer’s neopolitan (almost got Edy’s, but Breyer’s has the really good vanilla bean vanilla ice cream)

Loved the cheese ’n’ crackers. So-so on the grillt avocadoes; I still prefer ’em plain and cut up in a salad (baby spinach, sliced avocadoes, sliced mushrooms and ranch dressing ... preferably the kind you mix up yourself) or in guacome. Squash and chicken were divine, as was the ice cream.

All in all, a tasty, satisfying holiday meal.

: )

Memorial Day

Unexpected phone calls kick MAJOR ass!

: )



So do roses.

Sunday Night Faves

My 5 favorite things for today:

1. My sister’s eucalyptus spearmint soap from Bath and Body Works (I MUST find me some, pronto!)

2. Road-trippin’ music by Cake, from Roger

3. Watching bits ’n’ pieces of Titanic (can’t help it)

4. My lawn-mower guy telling me he likes my hair ... especially since he has long, shaggy blond hair, and mine is less than an inch long

5. This quote: “Fags are no different than people.” — Brian Kinney, Queer as Folk

Actually, this is the complete quote:

Fags are no different than people. Tell them they can’t have something, and it’s all they want. They won’t give up ’til they get it.

: )

On my way back from Charleston today, I decided to drive off the beaten path. I took a highway out of town on which I am pretty sure I have never driven. My intended destination was the Lincoln Log Cabin, but once I arrived there, I decided I was in no mood for stomping around the grounds of the place.

Before I got there, I stopped at a place called the Moore House. This house, a place where Abraham Lincoln supposedly stopped once upon a time, has been restored but was in pretty shoddy condition, nevertheless. Mostly unphotographable, in my opinion.

There was a kind of cool, plain barn/building behind it, though.



On my way back to the interstate, I passed some round hay bales, which always remind me of Monet. On top of the second bale, I saw some kind of odd-looking yellowish bird. I turned around and drove back, thinking I might be able to get a picture of it; the bird was still on top of the bale as I slowed down but then flew away before I could even think about stopping.

Blogus interruptus: Just got THE most awesome cell phone call from Roger, LIVE from 3rd and Lindsley, the site of tonight’s Over the Rhine concert, while the group performed my favorite song of theirs, “Latter Days.”

Have I ever posted the lyrics here? If not:

Latter Days

What a beautiful piece of heartache
This has all turned out to be
Lord knows we’ve learned the hard way
All about healthy apathy
And I use these words pretty loosely
There’s so much more to life than words

There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me
You dance so gracefully
I really think I’ll be OK
They’ve taken their toll, these latter days

Nothin’ like sleepin' on a bed of nails
Nothin’ much here but our broken dreams
Ah, but baby, if all else fails
Nothin’ is ever quite what it seems
And I’m dyin’ inside to leave you
With more than just clichés

There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me
You dance so gracefully
I really think I’ll be OK
They’ve taken their toll, these latter days

But tell them it’s real
Tell them it’s really real
I just don’t have much left to say
They’ve taken their toll, these latter days
They’ve taken their toll, these latter days

— Linford Detweiler

Wal-Jack

Wal-Jack is an amusing place.

More amusing at night, apparently, or early morning (I am guessing), when it is not so crowded.

At certain times of the day, I cannot even bear the thought of thinking about entering our SuperCenter. Tonight, though, I got a sudden burst of energy and thought, why not go now; otherwise, I am going to be faced with getting up early and going then.

NOT something you want to go to bed thinking about, you know?

; )

I walk in the west door, as I always do, and immediately the greeter — who is not actually greeting anyone and, in fact, does not even have a cart pulled out, ready to go, for me! — tells me that door will be locked in 15 minutes. And I am thinking, what the fuck to I care if this door is locked — as long as I am not actually locked inside the damn store??!

I mean, it is 61 degrees outside. Possibly the most beautiful weather we have had all year, these past few days/nights.

So I do my shopping (mostly cookout supplies) and then I do my usual self-checkout and then I walk toward the west door thinking maybe, just maybe, I have taken less than 15 minutes ... but no, the door is locked, a woman tells me, as she hurriedly pushes her cart — which is carrying groceries and a little girl — toward the east door. And as she does so, she is lamenting the fact that the west door is locked (as I am sure the non-greeting greeter told her when she entered) with her car parked right outside, and now she is not going to make it to the Wal-Jack gas station before it closes.

Me? I could not care less, even though, at the mention of the gas station, I am reminded that I was thinking of filling the tank, myself, just in case I decide to depart town early tomorrow a.m. to go see my sister. Still, I am in no particular hurry, walking to my car, pushing my neatly packed cart, enjoying the night air, when I see that same woman, hurriedly attempting to lift her daughter out of the cart ... and the woman is yelling at the girl, trying to get her out of the cart and into the car, and suddenly the little girl is crying, and I am thinking: Is it really worth all this drama to save 5 cents per gallon on your gasoline? Is it worth injuring your daughter?

Apparently, though, the woman and I both managed to maneuver our vehicles over to the gas pumps in plenty of time.

I fill the tank, and the total comes to exactly $21.00. I LOVE when that happens!

: )

¡Caliente!

This is one of my habañero plants.

Morning Light

My friend Case used to tell me that things always look better in the morning light.

She may have been right, but right now, I have a headache. Not a bad one; not one that a few more hours of sleep will not cure.

: )

This photo makes me smile ... even though I had a tough time deciding where to crop it because it is more of a horizontal shot, and I really only have a 5-inch width to work with on this template ... and I could change to a wider one, but please! Too much work! Anyway, keep in mind this is a portion of the picture.



I was shooting the magnolia tree (again), and whilst I was focusing on the lowest bloom, this bumblebee flew in and out of the frame a couple of times. And it never stayed around long enough for me to snap a shot, let alone focus, so I sort of gave up on it ... even though I thought (and still think) that a closeup shot of a bee on the petals would be cool.

Then I took a shot of the blooms against the midday sky and put the camera away.

Then, when I was looking at the pictures, later, I saw this one and thought, oh, I managed to get a shot of a bird flying by! And I was happy because I like photos with birds ... and then I realized, it was the bumblebee that had eluded me earlier.

: )

And a rock feels no pain.

Remember that post, a while back (I would link to it, but that would take more effort on my part than I can manage at this moment), in which I said something to the effect of, I fucking hate liars?

That statement bears repeating:

I fucking hate liars.

And at this moment, I am glad that I am not a big person. For if I were, say, 6-foot-5, 275 pounds, and male, I could/would inflict some serious physical damage on someone. Because, apparently, some people are incapable of feeling emotional pain (i.e. the occasional pang of a guilty conscience).

And fittingly enough (or not), this is the song in my head — and playing on the MusicMatch Jukebox — right now.

I Am a Rock

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow

I am a rock
I am an island

I build walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That no one may penetrate
I have no need of friendship
Friendship causes pain
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain

I am a rock
I am an island

Don’t talk of love
Well, I’ve heard the word before
It’s sleeping in my memory
I won’t disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died
If I never loved
I never would have cried

I am a rock
I am an island

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no one
And no one touches me

I am a rock
I am an island

And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries

— Simon & Garfunkel

And to make matters worse, apparently, the lake has turned over. At least that is what someone said today at work, and now my water tastes kinda funky, and me without any bottled wa-wa (as opposed to Ba-ba Wa-wa).

And now the USB port is not wanting to recognize the camera that is hooked up to it ... and I have some pictures I want to get to.

Let me just say it:

Fuck!

(Time for the stress-free, relaxing part of my much-hoped-for stress-free, relaxing holiday weekend to start kicking in.)

Mobile Blogging

So, on the Blogger home page, there is something about mobile blogging. I have not checked this out because I am not wireless; matter of fact, even when I had a laptop computer, I was not wireless, and it really did not matter, anyhow, ’cause, really, I never took my computer with me anywhere.

OK, occasionally I took it across town when I went to dog-sit. But even that got to be a drag, packing up the laptop and all those wires and then re-plugging everything in.

I miss having a laptop computer, though: So little space required! And I have plenty of room, so it is not as if I have space issues or anything. (Spaciness issues ... now THAT is a different story.)

Maybe I like the idea of the laptop computer more than the actual computer itself. Who knows.

I also like this idea of mobile blogging. Not enough to click on the link and see what is involved; heck, it might not even be a reference to wireless networking, and if that is the case, then the preceding several paragraphs were basically all for naught.

I like the idea of being able to blog as I think. I mean, during the course of a day, I have all these different “things to write about” pop into my head.

(“You have topics,” she told me, once.)

Then, when I sit down to write: Gone. Or momentarily forgotten. And most times, that is probably for the best, really.

Anyhoo, this is a clematis plant. Which sounds a little sexual to me ... which is probably one of the reasons I like it! Plus, it’s pretty.





And a little different perspective on one of the clematis pods and a couple of leaves:





All depends on what your focus is, I suppose.

: )

Magnolia

Best line of the entire film:

Now that I’ve met you, would you object to never seeing me again?

And these are from Donald & Virginia’s actual magnolia tree. I’m thinking this bloom will be completely open tomorrow.

Early to bed ...

Last night, I went to bed too early to blog! Can you even fucking believe it?

And I want to write about the past few days, but — you guessed it: Right now, I must crash for a few.

Simply to rejuvenate.

And there are magnolia photos to be posted.

So it will be worth the wait.

(Poetry in motion. That’s me.)

: )

(Actually, more like: A nap, waiting to happen.)

: )

Man, I slay me!

: )

Beaming

This is one of those beautiful days I have mentioned before: So beautiful that it hurts to look at ... well, anything. (Borrowed and paraphrased from My So-Called Life. Rayanne Graf, if I am not mistaken, and I believe she is talking about her pal, Angela Chase. Of course, I have the DVD collection, so I could look it up. Yeah, if I were a different person.)

: )

I live next door to the office of my insurance agent. For about a year now (probably longer; we all know how I am about keeping track of such things), he has had a new receptionist, and she is very nice. Sometimes, when I get home from work, she is outside taking a cigarette break, and we exchange greetings.

“Your flowers are pretty, Diana!” she called out to me today.

“Thanks,” I replied, then shrugged. “I just water ’em!”

“I’ve been looking at them every day.”

For some reason, this made me feel unbelievably happy.

: )

A few months ago, over in The Orchard, Zayne asked us all to describe our bench there in that (somewhat) imaginary place.

Here is how I described mine, back on Jan. 6:

My bench in the Orchard:

I built me a treehouse/loft (in my imagination, I am one heckuva carpenter!). My treehouse faces southward — like Trudes’ place, so I can get as much sunshine as possible. In fact, the south side of my treehouse is completely open — ’cause, WTF, the weather is always excellent here (except on those days when we need a lil’ rain so we can go walking barefoot and splashing through the puddles, or times when we have a craving to watch the snow come down). The treehouse has a large front porch, just like the one on my next-door neighbors Mabel and Burl’s house when I was a kid. On it are a rocking chair, a swing and all kinds of pillows. And a small round table with a pitcher of slightly sweetened iced tea or lemonade or cider — if Deb happens to be visiting that day. (Michelle: I’ve got all your favorite beers on tap, inside!)

: )

Whilst sitting/lying on any of the porch “furniture,” we can watch the sun rise and set every day. Inside, there are photos everywhere (Scotty and Jeanne and Bill each have their own wall, but they share their space with the rest of us). We’ve tacked up some written work, too, or jotted our words right there on the walls (you have to write kinda small, though, ’cause the windows in this place are huge and take up much of the wall space). My acoustic guitar is nearby, just begging for someone who actually knows how to play it to come along ...

In the middle of the room, I have a giant telescope for viewing the moon and various planets and stars through the skylight at night.

Today, at the park, I found me a bench I can enjoy while I am waiting to get around to getting my Orchard bench built:



: )

I have a friend I’ve never met. I have written about her before, and I think about her a lot; in fact, she is the girl I have referred to as a friend, but in reality, we at times have been far more than friends ... and at other times, far less.

We have known each other for more than 5 years. Or, rather, we have gotten to know each other as well as you can possibly know someone via e-mails, occasional chats and sporadic phone calls.

Early on, I wanted too much. I’m not quite sure why, really; I just know that I did. And I made the mistakes that people make — and even a few original mistakes that I am quite convinced only I could make! — when they want everything they can possibly get from a person, which almost always results in nothing.

(All of This and Nothing ...)

And even when there is still a remnant of something, you won’t get what you think you need from this person because you have rendered them unable to give anything. You have forced them, really, to hold back everything.

But then, sometimes, you get lucky, and for whatever reason (in my case, I consider it a miracle, a change of heart, something), this girl and I have made it back to being ... friends, or something.

I kept thinking it was because she has changed. Because she was/is willing to see me in a different light, willing to look past these faults of mine, able to realize that there is some good in here, in me, somewhere.

Then, last night, I had a different way of seeing it: Perhaps I am the one who has changed.

Perhaps I am the one who stopped making it so difficult for her to want to know me.

Perhaps.

: )

Uncharacteristically, I am a little nervous about what the immediate future has in store.

My best friend/confidant/soulmate, the person who knows me better than anyone else does and actually gets me and, amazingly, loves me anyway (go figure!) is having a surgical procedure tomorrow. And it’s routine blah-blah-blah, and I have faith that it will all go well; still, it’s a little scary, just the same.

Queer

Just watched the season premiere of Queer as Folk. I have been watching this show every Saturday night for the past several weeks, trying to get caught up, and I have to admit: I love it.
Better than The L Word (go figure) — or at least Season 2 of The L Word, which did not even compare to Season 1. Which I liked well enough to watch, all in one sitting, over the course of 2 days.

Anyhoo, Queer had me laughing out loud at various points. And feeling a lil’ lump in my throat as I reminded myself, as it ended, that this is its final season.

(I’m pouting right now.)



Daisies are among my favorite flowers. Along with poppies. And sunflowers.

When I was in high school, carnations were my favorite. The perfect flowers for dances.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day the music died.

This is the hibiscus that did not get dug up and eaten:



Seems to be enjoying the indoor life, for now. (Damn squirrels!)

: (

Graduation Night, Part 1

I got some thoughts on this (not this photo*, per se, but on the actual event). For later.

* — Though I will state, for the record, that the gowns actually were more of a maroon/burgundy, rather than the fuschia-tinged color in the picture. (I blame fluorescent lighting and the camera. Really.)

: )

The Preakness

OK, I am not into horse racing, but I still like to see the Triple Crown races, so I just watched Afleet Alex win the Preakness. Amazing run, if you happen to catch it on replay: The horse went down to its knees (are they called knees?) on the final turn and the jockey almost fell out of the saddle when it brushed up against Scrappy T — the horse I was rooting for, actually, because I like the name! — but managed to keep going, took the lead and won the fucking race!

: )

“He’s just that athletic, and I was just that scared!” — Jeremy Rose, Afleet Alex’s jockey.

Unexpected Surprises

Gathered in the mail today and found an unexpected package from Roger, a beautiful man I have met — online in the Orchard several months ago and then, in person in Cincinnati! — and gotten to know over the course of the past few months. He had asked me if I was familiar with the group Cake, and of course I had heard of them, through Jenn, but I had not yet heard their music.

THAT is going to change, thanks to Roger, who sent me a 2-CD compilation (yay!) and handwritten track listings (double-yay!).

: )

Then, this afternoon, I played tennis with a couple of the usual suspects and our pal Jennifer (not to be confused with the aforementioned Jenn) from Worcester (pronounced “Wooster”), Mass., whom we have not seen for almost a year. Last time we saw her, she was wearing this ultra-cool Red Sox cap, only instead of being the usual Boston colors, her cap had blue sox ... and of course I told her I wanted one.

And guess what she brought with her this trip? Yeah, the cap on MY head in this questionable self-portrait! And it is a fitted cap and everything (puff, puff!) and fits my head perfectly, and on the back, it has the Boston-style “B” and everything, just in case I wanna go all hip-hop or something (which I will not, mostly because I look even dorkier than usual whilst wearing a cap backwards ... not that THAT ever actually stopped me from doing anything, really ... but still). Plus she is going to take us to see WHALES later this summer!

Roger and Jennifer ROCK, in my book.

: )

Oh, deer!

Yesterday evening, The Lovely rescued me from work. Had a very good dinner (best salmon I have ever had ... though, admittedly, I have eaten salmon [in a restaurant, aside from out of a can and/or in salmon patties] approximately twice before, in my life!) at Windows and then, on our way out of Wayne Fitzgerrell State Park, saw 3 deer by the roadside.





They paused long enough for me to snap 4 or 5 photos and then bounded off to the left.

One of the certainties in my life is that I could never shoot one of these creatures.

Red

Don't Let Me Get Me

It’s Pink. Get it?



OK, so it’s the first thing that came into my head when I was looking at this photo and thinking of a title and oh, I wish I were coherent tonight, but this day I have felt a little, as my mom used to say, as if I had been drug through a knothole backwards. Mostly ’cause it’s Monday and there is no foreseeable (sp? looks wrong ta me!) break in the action, ’cept for the holiday weekend, weekend after this ... and I keep feeling that urge to take off driving, destination unknown, though there are definitely people I would like to see, and I know myself well enough to know that aimless wandering, or driving, while fun, gets tiresome rather quickly and definitely does NOT promote NOT thinking, which is what I would really like to do ... or, rather, NOT do ...

(I think I just double-negatived myself into complete confusion!)

: )

I spent a few hours with a 16-month-old boy tonight and realized that if I were a parent, I would probably have the WORST-behaving kids on the planet because I would undoubtedly teach them all these terribly bad habits.

Not that this is a bad habit, but within a span of about 20 seconds I had taught this toddler to put his hands up to his mouth and yell across the yard to me. Of course, he didn’t hold his hands exactly the same way I did (sort of cupped around my mouth; his hands were actually covering his mouth, but he was trying to do it just like I did), and he basically just jabbered. Still, it made me and his grandma smile every time he did it.

Plus I know of at least 2 boys who credit me with teaching them to burp. Not by giving them lessons or anything, but simply by burping unabashedly (as Alanis might say).

(Man, I wonder if I will ever do anything that is truly worth emulating?)

: )

Field of Dreams (and a Faceful of Turf)

Watched one of my favorite films yesterday, Field of Dreams, and then I actually played a little baseball today. Ended up with a faceful of grass — and, I am quite certain, some major aches and pains tomorrow! — whilst playing a game of hotbox with the boys; thought I might even end up with a shiner and/or broken glasses and/or missing teeth and/or fractured ribs, but: I am, apparently, OK. And intact.

Back to Field of Dreams: This one ranks in my Top 7, and usually, as I am watching it, each time, I tell myself, This could be my all-time favorite film. Because there are parts of it that really just reach inside of me and grab ahold of my heart.

I have said, for a long time now, that in my next life, I will be a Major League Baseball player. This weekend I realized that I might not make the majors in my next life, but I will be a ballplayer, a very good ballplayer ... but if I do not make it to the professional level, that will be OK, too.

: )

Caught another movie this a.m. on HBO, and I really did not want to be up that early, but I found myself unable to turn away from it: Warm Springs, a film about Franklin D. Roosevelt, not long after he had been stricken with polio, and how he rehabilitated his mind (if not his body) in the warm springs of Georgia. A surprisingly inspirational story, especially for anyone who has been affected by or knows anyone who has suffered from polio — which I do.

And I need to do a little research on FDR, also, because apparently he was a remarkable man and president.

This evening, before the season finale of The L Word, I happened upon another of my all-time faves, Witness — which I believe has one of THE most intense first few minutes of any movie I have ever seen; in fact, I would have to say the entire first 45 minutes and the final half hour or so are among the most dramatic ever.

Oh no: Backward Seinfeld is on! Gotta go!

: )

Getting Caught Up

Just a few more from the past coupla days ...



First Strawberry



Gray-Green Wood Sorrel

(Yeah, I know: Looks yellow to me, too, but ... what do I know?)

: )



Something Blue



Helicopter Down



First Hibiscus Bloom

(This plant is ready to get outside! Speaking of which: So am I!)

: )

Germaniums

OK, I realize they are geraniums, not germaniums ... which I have nearly mis-misspelled, twicet now, as germansiums (!!!); however, I have been purposely pronouncing them incorrectly for so long now that I am afraid I no longer recall, at first attempt, which is correct.

: )



I might change my header to this:

All My Little Words: Living Proof That All You Need for Massive Amounts of Fun, Every Day, Are a Digital Camera (or Two) and a Blog

(Not really, but it did strike me as apropos, this morning.)

And now: I hear rain again! Yay!

: )

Maple Leafs

OK, I know they are maple leaves, not leafs. But in a tribute to the NHL Playoffs, which would have been going on now if not for the mell of a hess (as Grandma Ginny would say) created by the lockout or what-not that basically put an end to the 2004-05 National Hockey League season (as if I give a care ... which I do not ... although I did have a good time in my tippy-top limited-view seats way back in 1990-something when I watched the St. Louis Blues beat some team), I submit these shots taken several minutes ago, on a perfectly gray, rainy morning.

(Actually, I am waiting for the rain to resume so I can troddle back to bed.)

: )

First Bloom

My hibiscus bloomed today. The hibiscus plant that Aunt Toots sent to the funeral for my grandmother, her sister. And I knew it was going to bloom, but I am never sure when, and then, today, I did what I sometimes do: I get caught up in everything else, mostly stuff that absolutely does not matter, and I forgot to notice that my hibiscus had bloomed.

I must stop taking everything so seriously. Except for the things that really do matter.

Anyhoo.



More later. I am wiped.

A Sad Statement

I am paying more attention to my first-ever Fantasy League Baseball team, Da Cubbies, than I am my favorite Major League Baseball team, the Chicago Cubs, because, quite frankly, my fantasy team is doing way better.

Which ultimately means: I need to get a life.

: )

Just kidding. About the life part, anyway. I could use some regularly scheduled time OFF work, however; I will admit that. I have found the occasional odd day off to be helpful, but a week-long vacation would probably do me some good.

And at least a few of my co-workers, too.

: )

I failed to mention that, miraculously, my randomly selected team won, again, in The Amazing Race. And my fellow competitors had mixed emotions, as they wanted my team to win but did not want me to win. Not that they have anything against me, per se (that I am aware of, anyway!), but the fact that I do not watch the show is a sore subject.

What they do not realize is that, above everything else, I like to play. Yes, it is fun to win, but mostly, I like to be a part of the game.

I am most definitely NOT a player, though. That is a whole other topic!

: )

This is WAR!

I come home this evening from a quick trip to QVC and rub-a-dub Subway, and on my way in, I check on my hibiscus plants — only to find that 3 of the 4 have been dug up and are now GONE!!!

: (

And I can only assume the squirrels did it, and that they prolly ate the plants, which were only, like, an inch or so in height. I mean, it coulda been birds, but there was soil scattered around one of the plants, and I really do not think birds can dig like that.

(Can they?!)

So now I am totally bummed. And feeling like a horrible “parent” and a complete NON-nurturer because I thought I was looking after the plants ... and now 3 of them are gone. Squirrel food, likely. And probably while I was right here, at home, NOT looking after my tiny little plants.

Plus, they were birthday gifts!

Fucking squirrels. And I cannot even blame them, entirely, because they are simply doing what they have to do to survive.

This is my fault. Dammit.

: (

Wild Columbine

I like this plant. The blooms remind me of bats, somehow, the way they hang there.



Not so coincidentally, yesterday afternoon I watched part of Bowling for Columbine. I have not yet seen Fahrenheit 911; in fact, the Columbine documentary was my first Michael Moore film, and while I think he can be an annoying fuck at times, he also does an effective job getting his point(s) across.

And what I love is when he manages to make both sides look rather ridiculous.

However, I have no desire to post words today, only photos from today.



White Iris



Clover Closeup



Notice of Violation

Honors Night

Last night, I dreamt of the girl who had told me she thought I would like to read the writing of Anaïs Nin. So, then, I wondered: Is it possible to will yourself to dream about someone?

I know there have been times in my life, usually conflict-related, when I have had someone on/in my mind and have dreamt of them. Most recently when I was basically seeking forgiveness; actually, I had already been absolved by the person I had wronged but was trying to complete the act of self-forgiveness.

Which really is the most difficult part.

Well, maybe not the most difficult part. I mean, if someone is unwilling to forgive you, and you are honestly contrite over the wrong you have done to them and have done everything in your power to earn their forgiveness ... well, then, that is difficult, but at that point, it is beyond your control. You really cannot control what another person does or feels.

And, honestly, who would want to?

Tonight was Honors Night at the high school here, and I covered it, and, thankfully, the event lasted only 75 minutes. Not that I am complaining in any way; as I told my friend Patti, you might not know it to look at me, but I used to be a smart kid, so I enjoy giving the academic achievers their due.

My friend Dana — coincidentally, the one who introduced me, so to speak, to Anaïs Nin — told me one time that what she loved most about the classroom was that it was the only place where the proverbial playing field was level. She enjoyed the competition of school — the fact that, if you worked hard enough and did the work, you would achieve exactly what you had earned.

Which is not always the case in the workplace, or out in The Real World in general, sometimes. I mean, most jobs reward you for a job well done, but not all. And as for fairness in that big bad world out there: Please.

No one said life was fair. And anyone who thinks it is ... well, that person is living in a dream world. A fantasy island of sorts.

Anyhoo, I wrote a poem today:

Tonight

Tonight I wish you
were merely a barefoot
walk across the lawn
or perhaps, at most,
a cross-town bus ride
away.

We could meet for a cup
of coffee or a beer or a
shot of Irish whiskey.
The good stuff, the kind that
goes down slow. The kind
you sip for hours.

I got stories only you
could fully appreciate.
Tonight, though, I am
all ears, so go ahead.
I got the bus fare, too,
and the drinks are on me.

— DLW

I write bad poetry.

I was going to title this post “untitled,” but that seemed sorta lame. Usually, when I settle in to write something, I have some kind of title in my mind; sometimes it is related to whatever I want to write about, and sometimes it is a word or a phrase running through my mind at that exact moment ... and may or may not have anything to do with what I am writing about.

My writing students used to agonize over titles — as if anything significant, content-wise, in a piece of writing is included in the title. I gave them a couple of rules regarding titles: 1. Keep it brief (usually 1 to 4 words), and 2. Capitalize correctly (first word, last word, and all the “important” words in-between).

Which brings up an interesting point: Who gets to decide which words are important? Technically, I guess, title-wise, this means you do not have to capitalize the prepositions and the articles in a title ... unless, of course, any of those happen to be the first or last words. But then again: Who says articles — the words a, an and the — can be considered UNimportant?

Think they don’t matter? Quick, look up anything on the Internet — preferably something from a news site, but what the hell, any old blog will do! — and try reading a paragraph or two, sans articles.

(I am serious: DO IT!)

See? The English language sounds pretty strange without those little words!

This is not the direction I expected this post to take. This is, however, a perfect example of why I am, yes, a grammar geek.

Not to be confused with the various characteristics that classify me as a dork.

“But you’re a good kind of dork,” my friend Jack told me.

(I took this, very much, as a compliment.)



I actually managed to write a page or two of fiction the other day (I think it was Friday, but I honestly cannot remember). Nothing earth-shattering or anything, but by the time I was done, I realized what I had written was basically some soft porn.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

I also realized it wasn’t very good, but ... what do I know? So, later, I reached for some Anaïs Nin.

I had never read anything by Nin until a few years ago when one of my tennis buddies recommended her writing to me. Which I found oddly flattering because the only writing of mine that this girl had read was my newspaper work, mostly sports and columns — and at that point, we had never discussed authors or books we had read or anything, really, other than life and tennis and what-not.

“I think you would like Anaïs Nin’s writing,” she told me.

I had no idea, at that moment, that Nin was known, at least in part, for writing erotica.

(My friend was correct, by the way; I mean, who wouldn’t like erotica??!)

: )

Ah, where was I going with all this?

I do not know, and now it’s too late to figure it out.

Sailing

Takes me away
To where I’ve always heard it could be ...

And then seasickness brings me right back.

: )

Oh, not me. I have been seasick only once in my life: During a 4-hour ride on a cruise ship called the Sea Escape, from Ft. Lauderdale to Grand Bahama Island. And it was especially horrible ’cause almost everyone on board was seasick. Which meant, as you moved from one part of the ship to another, looking for someplace where you could sit down and be left the hell alone while you tried to get OVER being seasick, you kept seeing someone else get sick.

I have, however, had motion sickness twice: The time a pilot took me up in his plane so I could get some aerial shots of area landmarks, and he kept putting the plane into a steep steep bank to give me the best angle (the pilot and his wife died a few months or maybe a year later ... in a plane crash!); and before that, the time my dad took my sister and me to the carnival and I insisted on riding EVERY ride there (those stinkin’ swings are what did me in). Both times, all I could do was go home and sleep it off ... and both were FAR worse than any kind of cheap drunk I had ever been on!

(The only feeling comparable to any of those incidents was the time Case and I went to Wrangler’s and ate giant roast beef sandwiches and fries, and then I followed that by eating a whole bunch of those powdered sugar donuts and drinking chocolate milk. Urghhhhhhh!)

Anyhoo, today was a great day for a sail.





My knees are sunburned, but it was a great day. Mostly.

: )

A Beautiful Day

One of those days, in fact, that I cannot wait to get out of the office. Especially today, as the ceiling collapsed (!!!) in the northeast corner of my office (which is actually the entire front part of the building because we are sort of an open-air place, no cubicles or anything, no privacy whatsoever, etc.), when the roofers and/or air-conditioning techinicians were attempting to remove some ducts.

They had already (successfully) removed ducts above the desk of the woman who sits catty-corner from me. Of course, she’d had to vacate her area while they covered her desk with plastic and proceeded to pound and clank their hammers and lower huge pieces of metal onto the floor.

And funnily enough, just a few minutes before the collapse, at around 10 a.m., when I was in the midst of my daily chaos, attempting to put together the newspaper, the roofers/technicians had positioned themselves near my desk and were contemplating the office and pointing to the portion of ceiling that runs right down the middle of the place, starting with the ceiling just to the right of my desk. I sensed that they were planning to start removing that particular duct, basically right over my head.

“Uhm, I can’t move,” I told them.

One of them looked at me. I could tell he was the “head guy” because earlier, he had told the other two what to do while he went “to run some errands.”

I also could tell he didn’t seem to like what I had just said.

“You don’t have to move,” he said, rather softly.

And then a co-worker explained that “we have to get a paper out!” Which seemed as if it would have been obvious to most people, and yet ... honestly, I could not have cared less because all of the stuff for today’s edition of the newspaper was on my computer, and I had no plans to relocate to another part of the building while something that obviously could be done later in the workday (i.e. after the paper was finished?) took place.

And about 20 minutes later, part of the ceiling collapsed.

Nice.

: (

The rest of the day was nice, actually, as I went from the office to a gathering of old folks and even earned an invite to lunch. Which I had to refuse because I also had to attend Law Day (don’t ask), which actually turned out to take not too long and the site of which allowed me to troddle off (via car) toward the lake.

Ah, the lake!

I took a new route today, a road never traveled, by me, anyway. And I ended up near a coal mine, one of several in this county that have been shut down over the past several years.

From what I can tell, coal mining does strange things to the landscape, creating hills and dunes and pits.



I have never been inside a coal mine; I wanted to take a tour of one, many years ago, but then the claustrophobic side of me kicked in and, after considering all the preparation I would have to do and the safety equipment I would have to wear, I decided I could live without ever going into a mine shaft.

I am kind of fascinated by mines, though. There is/was a huge one right across the lake that a friend of mine, a native of this town, referred to as “spider mine.” At night, you could look over at it, and the lights on the various parts of it (I wish I knew their technical names or whatever, but ... I do not!) looked sort of like giant illuminated spider legs, pattern-wise. Another mine southeast of here, located on a highway that my pal Joe Anne always referred to as “the darkest road ever,” lights up part of the night sky like a thousand white starballs.

During the day, at the particular mine I happened upon this afternoon, I noticed a lot of metal and rust.

It also reminded me of an amusement park.



And then I shot some wildflowers. Which, later, somewhat amazingly, I was able to identify, thanks to this awesome site which lists Kansas wildflowers. And I realize I am most definitely NOT in Kansas anymore — I do know a cool girl from there, though! — but apparently many of the wildflowers in Kansas can also be found in Illinoize.

This is prairie ragwort, which I also saw referred to as prairie groundsel:



Kinda shiny — just like Kansas cornstalks!

: )

This is Phildelphia fleabane ... NOT to be confused with “Philadelphia Freedom,” that bouncy little Elton John tune from the 1970s inspired by the one and only Billie Jean King.



These remind me of daisies.

: )

I saw four propane tanks, those big, oblong, above-ground tanks like the one at Thelma & Alvin’s that we used to climb up on and pretend we were on a submarine ... as opposed to being in a submarine, which would be much safer, it would seem. Anyhoo, I thought about taking a picture of these tanks, slowed my car, and then saw a huge black Lab running toward the car, barking as it ran alongside.

Maybe next time.

I also found some railroad tracks that are no longer in use.



And this is simply a roadside shot.

Waiting to Exhale

As IF I have seen the movie. (Which I have not.) Yet it does seem as if I have been trying to catch my breath over these past few weeks, ever since hitting the big 4-oh.

And I must interject: I never would have predicted this, but I must say that certain ... uhm, things ... are most unexpectedly but definitely better when you are 40.

Who’d-a thunk it?

Just sayin’ ...

: )

I hadn’t planned to write tonight, but then I ventured into The Orchard and stumbled upon a thread started IN MY HONOR by one of my fellow Apples, Dan (a.k.a. taliendo), a delightful man and a wonderfully insightful writer. OK, so the thread was actually inspired by me, not necessarily started in my honor ... but how cool! To inspire someone! Kick-ass, man!

(Why is it that, whenever I attempt to express myself most accurately and succinctly, I resort to terms like kick-ass and fuckin’-A and various other expletive-laced, hyphenated phrases??!)

*sigh*

Speaking of kicking ass: Judging Amy season finale totally ruled (hey, a pun!) tonight. And then The Shield was the usual awesomefest. Prior to that, I had a most excellent tennis adventure, and somewhere in-between I found out I will soon have CDs and DVDs on the way!

Plus, the boss bought us all lunch today. And, remarkably, everyone I encountered today was friendly.

And, last but not least, I had an amazing 67-minute, 37-second phone conversation with my sister during which she gave me a GREAT term that I took a vow NOT to write and/or tell anyone about ... though I did reserve the right to use it, someday, somewhere down the line, in some story along the way. And I know it is one of those kinds of things that we will both laugh about, when that time comes.

God, I love my sister.

: )

Indy

Took the camera and thought I might snap some shots of Indianapolis this past weekend; however, right smack-dab in downtown Indy, I found myself not really in the mood, truthfully.

Except for these bears. Part of a series of monuments to the Civil War and various other battles. Not sure what these are supposed to signify (a historian I am not), but ... well, I like bears.

: )