Summer is when butterflies come out and play; they are drawn to warmth, brightness, and color. Summer is what it is, and despite the occasional thunderstorm has the most comfortable and consistent weather of any of the seasons. You don't have to wear layers of uncomfortable clothing in the summer, you can bare all and just be yourself.
It is easiest to see in the summer when the sun shines brightest and the days are long.
Summer is my favorite of all of the seasons; if it was up to me, it would always be summer, from now on until the end.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Skydive!
On Saturday I crossed another line item off of my "List of Things To Do Before I Die" by jumping out of an airplane. I scheduled the jump on Friday, and was a nervous mess all leading up to getting to the airport. Strangely enough though, the closer it got to the time to go, the calmer I got. By the time I was in the plane I was not at all nervous or scared, just excited.
When I got to the airport the first thing they did (after taking my money) was to pair me up with someone to make the jump with. When you jump tandem you are harnessed to a jump instructor (as if they were standing directly behind you) and they wear the parachutes and do all the work. All you have to do is go along for the ride like a baby hanging from a chest pouch. Because I weigh just a bit more than 210 pounds (mostly muscle, I assure you) I had to pay a bit extra. I thought initially that this was because I would have to be paired up with someone as big or bigger than me, so I was pretty happy when it looked I was going to get paired up with a guy who was taller and bulkier than I am. He walked over to me though, sized me up, and turned to the scheduler and said "No way, if he and I went together we'd break the sound barrier in free fall. See if Matt's free."
Apparently the reason that it costs more the heavier you are is because there is a max weight limit per canopy of 500 pounds. This restricts the pairings that people my size can make (over 230 and you can't do tandem at all). Matt walked over, sized me up, and asked me how tall I was. I told him 6' 4", and he said "Me too". Here are a few pictures of Matt helping me get suited up so you can enjoy the humor of his response:
Once I was properly suited up in the gayest possible jumpsuit, Matt sat me down and went over the rules, which consisted mostly of me trying not to crawl into the fetal position during freefall and making sure I kept my feet out of the way.
After a good deal of waiting, it was time to jump. Matt and I loaded up in the rickety old plane (I assure you that it's even more a piece of shit than it looks in this picture) and after another tandem couple joined us started taxiing down the runway.
As I was trying to figure out why I wasn't the least bit nervous anymore (I had been figuratively shitting my pants all morning, but was strangly calm at go time), the other tandem jumper freaked out and insisted on getting out of the plane. So we taxied back to the loading zone, let them out, and then taxied back to the end of the runway. Matt seemed a bit concerned that I was going to change my mind after the other dude lost it, but I was getting more and more excited and less and less nervous.
It took about 15 minutes to get to the 13,000 feet altitude that we would jump from. I was strapped to Matt, sitting right next to the door of the plane, which was open like we were in some sort of crazy flying UPS truck. The view was wonderful, it was perfect weather, and Connecticut was greener than I'd ever seen it. When it came time to jump, we scooted over to the door until I was literally hanging out the side of the airplane, not touching anything except Matt via the harnesses binding us together. He sat on the edge of the door with his feet hanging off the side.
Then he pushed off and we started falling to the Earth.
The first few seconds were absolutely terrifying. We were tumbling (I don't know if it was head over heels or sideways) and all I could see was BLUE / GREEN / BLUE / GREEN until I closed my eyes and remembered to arch my back and tuck my legs between Matt's. This straightened us out, and we fell towards the ground on our stomachs. Free fall lasted 45 seconds, and we were travelling through the air at 130 miles per hour. In that time we travelled about 3/4 of the way to the ground from the plane - over a mile and a half. Matt popped the chute, and it took a few seconds to fully deploy - making me wonder just briefly if it was tangled and not going to open at all. Once fully extended, I settled down into my harness and we coasted along on the breeze, hearing nothing but the rustling of the canopy above us and my hoots and hollers. Matt joined me in yelling in joy and pure adrenaline, I swear he was as excited as I was despite having already made thousands of jumps himself.
We floated Earth-ward for about 5 minutes, and during that time Matt let me steer us in huge accelerated swoops and loops that brought us almost horizontal with the chute. Each loop sent my heart racing again - the adrenaline rush from accelerating into each swoop was the same as when you crank back the throttle on a speed bike and go from 80 to 130 in less than a second. But in this case you are dangling hundeerds of feet above the ground.
The entire time it was nearly impossible to detect the speed of our descent because we were too high in the air to have a good frame of reference to judge distance with. A few hundred feet up though the ground started to really move towards us, and that's when Matt guided us into a sloping and gentle descent into the landing field, where we skidded to a stop on our butts.
I swear Matt was as excited as I was - we both jumped up and he knuckled punched me (the terrorist handshake, if you watch Fox News) and then grabbed me in a big bear hug. We both were practically jumping up and down with excitement, but calmed enough to pose for a picture to commemorate the occasion:
I kind of look like I am peeing myself in that picture, don't I? I wasn't though - just happy as hell and my heart was pounding out of my chest (and would continue to do so for about a half hour after - the rush of adrenaline made me want to fuck something and punch something simultaneously). I am so glad I braved up enough to actually make the jump. I don't need to do it again ever, but also wouldn't hesitate if given the chance.
When I got to the airport the first thing they did (after taking my money) was to pair me up with someone to make the jump with. When you jump tandem you are harnessed to a jump instructor (as if they were standing directly behind you) and they wear the parachutes and do all the work. All you have to do is go along for the ride like a baby hanging from a chest pouch. Because I weigh just a bit more than 210 pounds (mostly muscle, I assure you) I had to pay a bit extra. I thought initially that this was because I would have to be paired up with someone as big or bigger than me, so I was pretty happy when it looked I was going to get paired up with a guy who was taller and bulkier than I am. He walked over to me though, sized me up, and turned to the scheduler and said "No way, if he and I went together we'd break the sound barrier in free fall. See if Matt's free."
Apparently the reason that it costs more the heavier you are is because there is a max weight limit per canopy of 500 pounds. This restricts the pairings that people my size can make (over 230 and you can't do tandem at all). Matt walked over, sized me up, and asked me how tall I was. I told him 6' 4", and he said "Me too". Here are a few pictures of Matt helping me get suited up so you can enjoy the humor of his response:
Once I was properly suited up in the gayest possible jumpsuit, Matt sat me down and went over the rules, which consisted mostly of me trying not to crawl into the fetal position during freefall and making sure I kept my feet out of the way.
;">
After a good deal of waiting, it was time to jump. Matt and I loaded up in the rickety old plane (I assure you that it's even more a piece of shit than it looks in this picture) and after another tandem couple joined us started taxiing down the runway.
As I was trying to figure out why I wasn't the least bit nervous anymore (I had been figuratively shitting my pants all morning, but was strangly calm at go time), the other tandem jumper freaked out and insisted on getting out of the plane. So we taxied back to the loading zone, let them out, and then taxied back to the end of the runway. Matt seemed a bit concerned that I was going to change my mind after the other dude lost it, but I was getting more and more excited and less and less nervous.
It took about 15 minutes to get to the 13,000 feet altitude that we would jump from. I was strapped to Matt, sitting right next to the door of the plane, which was open like we were in some sort of crazy flying UPS truck. The view was wonderful, it was perfect weather, and Connecticut was greener than I'd ever seen it. When it came time to jump, we scooted over to the door until I was literally hanging out the side of the airplane, not touching anything except Matt via the harnesses binding us together. He sat on the edge of the door with his feet hanging off the side.
Then he pushed off and we started falling to the Earth.
The first few seconds were absolutely terrifying. We were tumbling (I don't know if it was head over heels or sideways) and all I could see was BLUE / GREEN / BLUE / GREEN until I closed my eyes and remembered to arch my back and tuck my legs between Matt's. This straightened us out, and we fell towards the ground on our stomachs. Free fall lasted 45 seconds, and we were travelling through the air at 130 miles per hour. In that time we travelled about 3/4 of the way to the ground from the plane - over a mile and a half. Matt popped the chute, and it took a few seconds to fully deploy - making me wonder just briefly if it was tangled and not going to open at all. Once fully extended, I settled down into my harness and we coasted along on the breeze, hearing nothing but the rustling of the canopy above us and my hoots and hollers. Matt joined me in yelling in joy and pure adrenaline, I swear he was as excited as I was despite having already made thousands of jumps himself.
We floated Earth-ward for about 5 minutes, and during that time Matt let me steer us in huge accelerated swoops and loops that brought us almost horizontal with the chute. Each loop sent my heart racing again - the adrenaline rush from accelerating into each swoop was the same as when you crank back the throttle on a speed bike and go from 80 to 130 in less than a second. But in this case you are dangling hundeerds of feet above the ground.
The entire time it was nearly impossible to detect the speed of our descent because we were too high in the air to have a good frame of reference to judge distance with. A few hundred feet up though the ground started to really move towards us, and that's when Matt guided us into a sloping and gentle descent into the landing field, where we skidded to a stop on our butts.
I swear Matt was as excited as I was - we both jumped up and he knuckled punched me (the terrorist handshake, if you watch Fox News) and then grabbed me in a big bear hug. We both were practically jumping up and down with excitement, but calmed enough to pose for a picture to commemorate the occasion:
I kind of look like I am peeing myself in that picture, don't I? I wasn't though - just happy as hell and my heart was pounding out of my chest (and would continue to do so for about a half hour after - the rush of adrenaline made me want to fuck something and punch something simultaneously). I am so glad I braved up enough to actually make the jump. I don't need to do it again ever, but also wouldn't hesitate if given the chance.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Heat Lightning
I could see the heat lightning off in the distance, and without thinking I turned onto a road that would take me in that direction. The full moon floated over my shoulder amid whisps of clouds left over from the hot summer day, the sound of crickets flooded in towards me from the fields alongside the road, and my headlight darted and snaked across the windy New England roads ahead of me. It was beautiful - peace amongst the raging storm of life.
It occurred to me then briefly that the lightning might actually be from a thunderstorm, that I could be riding into danger (or at least extreme discomfort), but I let that thought slide past me on the wind and kept on. The night sky being lit up periodically and savagely was too wonderful to ignore, and I was too far from home to do anything about getting caught in a storm - I was at its mercy.
I rode on, but the lightning never seemed to get closer - it was always just over the next mountain range, just above the horizon. I wondered if I was chasing it as it moved away from me, or if it is just inherently like rainbows - beautiful and inviting, but impossible to find and hold.
I didn't want to capture its pot of gold, just immerse myself in its wonder. Surround myself with the flashes of light. Participate in it rather than simply watch it paint itself on one side of the sky like a movie being projected at a drive-in. I knew then that my life experience would be vastly improved by this, and I wanted it for myself.
Eventually, after riding for hours and never nearing the source of the light show, I stopped the bike on a deserted wooded road and killed the engine. The cricket sound swept over me then, and the moon - no longer following me but now hanging heavy in the sky in its wreaths of wispy clouds - the moon looked down on me and shone its reflective light on my face. The sky lit up on the horizon, but the flashes had lost their allure, everything that was in front of me and above me and surrounding me overwhelmed my senses and I was alive.
I was alive, now.
It occurred to me then briefly that the lightning might actually be from a thunderstorm, that I could be riding into danger (or at least extreme discomfort), but I let that thought slide past me on the wind and kept on. The night sky being lit up periodically and savagely was too wonderful to ignore, and I was too far from home to do anything about getting caught in a storm - I was at its mercy.
I rode on, but the lightning never seemed to get closer - it was always just over the next mountain range, just above the horizon. I wondered if I was chasing it as it moved away from me, or if it is just inherently like rainbows - beautiful and inviting, but impossible to find and hold.
I didn't want to capture its pot of gold, just immerse myself in its wonder. Surround myself with the flashes of light. Participate in it rather than simply watch it paint itself on one side of the sky like a movie being projected at a drive-in. I knew then that my life experience would be vastly improved by this, and I wanted it for myself.
Eventually, after riding for hours and never nearing the source of the light show, I stopped the bike on a deserted wooded road and killed the engine. The cricket sound swept over me then, and the moon - no longer following me but now hanging heavy in the sky in its wreaths of wispy clouds - the moon looked down on me and shone its reflective light on my face. The sky lit up on the horizon, but the flashes had lost their allure, everything that was in front of me and above me and surrounding me overwhelmed my senses and I was alive.
I was alive, now.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Salvation Army RULES
I was out riding yesterday in a sleeveless tee and the sun was tucked away neatly behind some big giant fuck-off clouds, so it was a lot colder than I would have liked. I stopped at a Salvation Army store to get a long sleeve shirt, and found a kick-ass one for, get this: FORTY NINE CENTS.
I never used to be able to shop at the Salvation Army, because I was fat and they don't have much in the way of XL or XXL shirts. But now that I am a lean, svelte mother fucker, all of my new favorite shirts I bought at Salvation Army, and none of them cost me more than NINETY NINE CENTS. Gone are the days of buying ironic nerd shirts for forty dollars (plus shipping) online, I'm all about the Salvation Army now.
Plus, where else are Brian and I going to get our pimp suits for when we go back to that pretentious martini bar in Orlando?
I never used to be able to shop at the Salvation Army, because I was fat and they don't have much in the way of XL or XXL shirts. But now that I am a lean, svelte mother fucker, all of my new favorite shirts I bought at Salvation Army, and none of them cost me more than NINETY NINE CENTS. Gone are the days of buying ironic nerd shirts for forty dollars (plus shipping) online, I'm all about the Salvation Army now.
Plus, where else are Brian and I going to get our pimp suits for when we go back to that pretentious martini bar in Orlando?
Hands Across America. No, really.
Brian and I were talking about El Cupachabra earlier tonight. For those in the know, this is a mythical(?) animal that has thus far eluded scientific analysis or capture in South America, violently feeding off of farm animals and dogs. Some people believe it is a real night-prowling demon animal, others think it is a convenient and mythical way to explain all cattle mutilation, regardless of the actual cause. Either way, there is no proof that this animal does exit, nor is there proof that is does NOT exist, therefore (according to quantum theory) it both exists AND does not exist at the same time.
Anyhow, our discussion turned to whether it is possible that every square inch of America has yet been explored by man. Brian (whose creativity is outmatched only by his photographic memory) quickly suggested forming a huge human search line - like you sometimes see in crime dramas when the cops are looking for evidence in a field or something and don't want to leave any square inch uncovered. Americans could be recruited from Florida to Maine to link hands and move from the coast westward. If this was turned into a giant relay moving from the right coast to the left coast (each person could walk, say, 10 miles and then be replaced by someone else), we could use the sheer population mass of our great country to literally and methodically cover every square inch, pushing the Bigfoots and El Cupachabras of the country into the Pacific ocean ahead of it.
Of course, the engineer in me started to think about how this could be made a reality. Never mind an actual sweep of the country - what would it take to populate Route 95 from Key West Florida to Houlton Maine? According to Google, there are 2,006 miles between the two. If each person was able to span 5 feet hand to hand on average, you would need 1,056 people per mile, or 2,118,336 people to be recruited to show up at the same time, each in a specific location, and join hands.
We have the technology to recruit people, one could set up a Web site through which people could register for a specific zip code - and if you knew how many miles each zip code spanned you'd know how many people you needed. You could over-recruit to accomodate gaps when people inevitably didn't show up. When you had enough people you could schedule a date. Getting legal approval from the po-po would be problematic, but maybe a national and federal exception could be made in the interest of extreme coolness.
You'd have all sorts of people showing up dressed like pirates or ninjas or animals or star wars characters. It would be the coolest social experiment ever. Imagine a line of people hand in hand that could be seen from space.
Just a thought.
A really, really, REALLY cool thought...
Anyhow, our discussion turned to whether it is possible that every square inch of America has yet been explored by man. Brian (whose creativity is outmatched only by his photographic memory) quickly suggested forming a huge human search line - like you sometimes see in crime dramas when the cops are looking for evidence in a field or something and don't want to leave any square inch uncovered. Americans could be recruited from Florida to Maine to link hands and move from the coast westward. If this was turned into a giant relay moving from the right coast to the left coast (each person could walk, say, 10 miles and then be replaced by someone else), we could use the sheer population mass of our great country to literally and methodically cover every square inch, pushing the Bigfoots and El Cupachabras of the country into the Pacific ocean ahead of it.
Of course, the engineer in me started to think about how this could be made a reality. Never mind an actual sweep of the country - what would it take to populate Route 95 from Key West Florida to Houlton Maine? According to Google, there are 2,006 miles between the two. If each person was able to span 5 feet hand to hand on average, you would need 1,056 people per mile, or 2,118,336 people to be recruited to show up at the same time, each in a specific location, and join hands.
We have the technology to recruit people, one could set up a Web site through which people could register for a specific zip code - and if you knew how many miles each zip code spanned you'd know how many people you needed. You could over-recruit to accomodate gaps when people inevitably didn't show up. When you had enough people you could schedule a date. Getting legal approval from the po-po would be problematic, but maybe a national and federal exception could be made in the interest of extreme coolness.
You'd have all sorts of people showing up dressed like pirates or ninjas or animals or star wars characters. It would be the coolest social experiment ever. Imagine a line of people hand in hand that could be seen from space.
Just a thought.
A really, really, REALLY cool thought...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Calm
The fire has been extinguished. All is calm.
Now that flames no longer lick at the windows
it is apparent that nothing was damaged -
everything is still there: untouched but too hot to touch.
It will all cool down eventually.
From ashes are borne pheonix,
strong and proud and free.
This doesn't happen overnight.
Until then the butterflies are still there,
floating free on the breeze.
Without the raging fire as a distraction
it is easier to notice that they always stay in sight of each other,
never wandering too far from the other,
always within earshot.
The moon speaks, but only with a whisper.
In time his voice may return,
growing louder with each passing day, week, month.
Until then there is the current of the ocean
to serve as a reminder that the beat of a heart
is all that is needed to know that one is still alive.
Now that flames no longer lick at the windows
it is apparent that nothing was damaged -
everything is still there: untouched but too hot to touch.
It will all cool down eventually.
From ashes are borne pheonix,
strong and proud and free.
This doesn't happen overnight.
Until then the butterflies are still there,
floating free on the breeze.
Without the raging fire as a distraction
it is easier to notice that they always stay in sight of each other,
never wandering too far from the other,
always within earshot.
The moon speaks, but only with a whisper.
In time his voice may return,
growing louder with each passing day, week, month.
Until then there is the current of the ocean
to serve as a reminder that the beat of a heart
is all that is needed to know that one is still alive.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A Sunday Afternoon All Access Pass to my Mind
There must be caffeine in this coffee I just brewed, my heart is racing.
I can't believe that I came home and am not out riding because they were predicting rain. There are clouds out there but no rain.
Hmmm, nobody's e-mailing me back now. They must have all gone off and found something actually productive to do. Not me, boy, the most productive thing I am going to let myself do for the rest of the day is cook myself a nice healthy stir fry for dinner.
Maybe I'll have nap first.
How does that song go? Oh yeah, "I quit my job cause it gets in the way, find a party by the ocean buy the cheapest wine, something something something, waste the day..."
This coffee needs sugar, but I should stick with just the fat-free creamer because I was a total pig last night and ate two bratwursts and a burger at the cookout. After 10 PM.
I'm a piggy.
But it's OK, because I did cardio, lifted, AND went hiking yesterday.
That makes it OK, right?
Coffee. Toffee. Boffee.
LOL @ "boffee".
LMAO @ "snaufy".
Hmmmm, looking at the radar it looks like the storm coming on from the west hit that mountain range on the border of CT and NY and divided. Massachusetts and Long Island are gonna get dumped on. Hope you have your slickers on, suckas!
Maybe I'll go put National Treasure II back on.
Meh, maybe I won't, I'm not far enough in for it to have gotten too cheesy yet.
I wonder if moldy cheese actually tastes bad, or if it just looks bad? I'm going to ask a little kid next time I see one.
I should really go downstairs and keep packing the basement, that's what I'm supposed to do on rainy days.
Ha, yeah right, that's going to happen before it absolutely HAS to.
Great, I was starving before, now the coffee is going to fill me up and I'm not going to be hungry for dinner until like 8. Which is way to late to eat dinner.
LOL, I spoiled my dinner on coffee. I just blew one of the first things I was ever taught as a kid - not to spoil your dinner.
Hey, I'm an adult, I'm allowed.
There is NOTHING headed my way on the radar. Maybe I'll go hit the road.
Nah, I am in lazy mode. That's not something you can just back out of.
WARNING: Do not operate heavy machinery while lazy. You may cause harm to yourself or others.
Yeah, all of my online friends are out having fun or otherwise not available to entertain me. I guess I'll go watch the rest of that movie. Maybe I'll even fall asleep on the couch, and when I wake up drooling on myself I can pretend I'm 55 for a few minutes, that's always fun.
I can't believe that I came home and am not out riding because they were predicting rain. There are clouds out there but no rain.
Hmmm, nobody's e-mailing me back now. They must have all gone off and found something actually productive to do. Not me, boy, the most productive thing I am going to let myself do for the rest of the day is cook myself a nice healthy stir fry for dinner.
Maybe I'll have nap first.
How does that song go? Oh yeah, "I quit my job cause it gets in the way, find a party by the ocean buy the cheapest wine, something something something, waste the day..."
This coffee needs sugar, but I should stick with just the fat-free creamer because I was a total pig last night and ate two bratwursts and a burger at the cookout. After 10 PM.
I'm a piggy.
But it's OK, because I did cardio, lifted, AND went hiking yesterday.
That makes it OK, right?
Coffee. Toffee. Boffee.
LOL @ "boffee".
LMAO @ "snaufy".
Hmmmm, looking at the radar it looks like the storm coming on from the west hit that mountain range on the border of CT and NY and divided. Massachusetts and Long Island are gonna get dumped on. Hope you have your slickers on, suckas!
Maybe I'll go put National Treasure II back on.
Meh, maybe I won't, I'm not far enough in for it to have gotten too cheesy yet.
I wonder if moldy cheese actually tastes bad, or if it just looks bad? I'm going to ask a little kid next time I see one.
I should really go downstairs and keep packing the basement, that's what I'm supposed to do on rainy days.
Ha, yeah right, that's going to happen before it absolutely HAS to.
Great, I was starving before, now the coffee is going to fill me up and I'm not going to be hungry for dinner until like 8. Which is way to late to eat dinner.
LOL, I spoiled my dinner on coffee. I just blew one of the first things I was ever taught as a kid - not to spoil your dinner.
Hey, I'm an adult, I'm allowed.
There is NOTHING headed my way on the radar. Maybe I'll go hit the road.
Nah, I am in lazy mode. That's not something you can just back out of.
WARNING: Do not operate heavy machinery while lazy. You may cause harm to yourself or others.
Yeah, all of my online friends are out having fun or otherwise not available to entertain me. I guess I'll go watch the rest of that movie. Maybe I'll even fall asleep on the couch, and when I wake up drooling on myself I can pretend I'm 55 for a few minutes, that's always fun.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Puzzling, isn't it?
I've developed the weirdest insomnia this year. I can get to sleep fine, but then I wake up at 2, 3, 4, or 5 in the morning, and I'm wide awake. Tired as shit, but wide awake. Can't go back to sleep. And of course unless I want to be a zombie all day, I can't take sleeping pills that early in the morning.
I actually had thought I was past this - things have been pretty good the past few weeks, I've been feeling pretty happy and stuff seems to mostly be sorting itself out, but last night at 2 AM, BAM. Wide awake.
Something unexpected (but not entirely unwelcome) popped up this week that I'm not sure what to do with, and I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with it. On top of that, I accepted a job offer yesterday. I'm actually quite excited about the job - it's going to be a lot of fun, it will look absolutely smashing on my resume, and pays pretty well, considering. But it means that I'll be putting off my relocation plans for at least another 6 months. Possibly longer - it's a right-to-hire contract, and if I'm really enjoying the work I may stay on if they ask me.
So the puzzle that I thought had been finished so many months ago is now lying in front of me, a gaping hole in the middle of it - staring back at me like a big square eye with a jagged, white pupil, waiting for me to pick the pieces from the pile in the box one by one and fill it all in. And here I am, with all of those pieces needing to be fit together, and I can't stop trying to make this one piece fit. I don't know what it is about it that commands so much of my attention, it's certainly a pretty piece, quite interesting and uniquely shaped; I just can't seem to put it down, even though there are so many other pieces there to work with.
And so I lie in my bed, watching the dark fade slowly to daylight; the brighter my room gets the less chance I have of falling back asleep, and I think about puzzle pieces.
I actually had thought I was past this - things have been pretty good the past few weeks, I've been feeling pretty happy and stuff seems to mostly be sorting itself out, but last night at 2 AM, BAM. Wide awake.
Something unexpected (but not entirely unwelcome) popped up this week that I'm not sure what to do with, and I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with it. On top of that, I accepted a job offer yesterday. I'm actually quite excited about the job - it's going to be a lot of fun, it will look absolutely smashing on my resume, and pays pretty well, considering. But it means that I'll be putting off my relocation plans for at least another 6 months. Possibly longer - it's a right-to-hire contract, and if I'm really enjoying the work I may stay on if they ask me.
So the puzzle that I thought had been finished so many months ago is now lying in front of me, a gaping hole in the middle of it - staring back at me like a big square eye with a jagged, white pupil, waiting for me to pick the pieces from the pile in the box one by one and fill it all in. And here I am, with all of those pieces needing to be fit together, and I can't stop trying to make this one piece fit. I don't know what it is about it that commands so much of my attention, it's certainly a pretty piece, quite interesting and uniquely shaped; I just can't seem to put it down, even though there are so many other pieces there to work with.
And so I lie in my bed, watching the dark fade slowly to daylight; the brighter my room gets the less chance I have of falling back asleep, and I think about puzzle pieces.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Happy Birthday Mom!
Today was my mom's 65th birthday, and she got what most women I know would LOVE for a present - 6 firefighters tromping through her house in full gear, sweaty and dirty and young and bored.
Of course, mom didn't see it that way, she called me in a panic. See, here's what happened: we had particularly nasty thunderstorms all day, and this evening they came especially close and hit especially hard. My house was nearly hit at one point, and apparently, as my mom was doing the crosswords and watching C-SPAN a lightning bolt hit hers, causing a power surge and blowing out her TV. The first person she called was her oldest son, but I was on the phone with a friend and my cell phone had been knocked out by the storm, so I didn't get the call.
So of course she called the only people more able to help her in a crisis: she dialed 911.
First they sent out a policeman to assess the situation. He looked around the house (I was on the phone with her by this point), presumably using his Maglite to shine the way, making sure that it wasn't actually ON FIRE (to her credit she didn't tell anyone that there was a fire, she just said that her "TV was hit by lightning"). She told him that she thought her TV had been hit by lightning, but her son said it was just a power surge which she didn't completely understand (she never believes me), and he "Mmm Hmmm'd" her. He left, but not before telling her that the fire department would be by to make sure everything was OK.
An hour later, I got a call from her, apparently there were 6 firemen traipsing throughout her house in their boots, tracking dirt and grass everywhere, checking to make sure that the wires in her wall weren't ablaze. To their credit, they even checked her attic for mice. Actually, they checked for flames, but she was afraid they'd find mice. This, after seeing how messy her house is (it's not messy, I assure you). Oh heavens, what would they think?
I have to say that they did an incredibly thorough job, much more so than I did (what I did amounted to assessing the situation remotely via telephone and offhandedly deciding that there was a power surge and I'd have to buy her a new TV for her birthday), so kudos to the local FD.
The kicker? I bought her a DVD player for her birthday, which means I now have to buy her a TV to go along with it.
Edit: Also, if I ever get so old that the equivalent (to men) of sweaty, dirty, young, bored firemen traipsing through my house makes me call my oldest child rather than get naked and pour olive oil all over myself, if that happens - PLEASE SHOOT ME.
Of course, mom didn't see it that way, she called me in a panic. See, here's what happened: we had particularly nasty thunderstorms all day, and this evening they came especially close and hit especially hard. My house was nearly hit at one point, and apparently, as my mom was doing the crosswords and watching C-SPAN a lightning bolt hit hers, causing a power surge and blowing out her TV. The first person she called was her oldest son, but I was on the phone with a friend and my cell phone had been knocked out by the storm, so I didn't get the call.
So of course she called the only people more able to help her in a crisis: she dialed 911.
First they sent out a policeman to assess the situation. He looked around the house (I was on the phone with her by this point), presumably using his Maglite to shine the way, making sure that it wasn't actually ON FIRE (to her credit she didn't tell anyone that there was a fire, she just said that her "TV was hit by lightning"). She told him that she thought her TV had been hit by lightning, but her son said it was just a power surge which she didn't completely understand (she never believes me), and he "Mmm Hmmm'd" her. He left, but not before telling her that the fire department would be by to make sure everything was OK.
An hour later, I got a call from her, apparently there were 6 firemen traipsing throughout her house in their boots, tracking dirt and grass everywhere, checking to make sure that the wires in her wall weren't ablaze. To their credit, they even checked her attic for mice. Actually, they checked for flames, but she was afraid they'd find mice. This, after seeing how messy her house is (it's not messy, I assure you). Oh heavens, what would they think?
I have to say that they did an incredibly thorough job, much more so than I did (what I did amounted to assessing the situation remotely via telephone and offhandedly deciding that there was a power surge and I'd have to buy her a new TV for her birthday), so kudos to the local FD.
The kicker? I bought her a DVD player for her birthday, which means I now have to buy her a TV to go along with it.
Edit: Also, if I ever get so old that the equivalent (to men) of sweaty, dirty, young, bored firemen traipsing through my house makes me call my oldest child rather than get naked and pour olive oil all over myself, if that happens - PLEASE SHOOT ME.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
I'm so green I'm purple
A few months ago when I first put my house on the market I was so optimistic that it would sell immediately that I gave my lawnmower to a friend who needed one, in exchange for a sushi dinner (which, it occurs to me, she never paid up - I wonder what the interest on a sushi dinner is?). Needless to say my house still has not sold, and in the interim I have cultivated an incredibly interesting assortment of small trees in my front yard. There are corn fields nearby that are more stunted.
So I buckled down and bought a push mower from Amazon. For 45$ I got one of those old-school ones without a motor that you push around. Let me tell you something, this thing is so friggin' cool. I don't have a huge yard, so it's perfect for me, and it's a decent workout to boot. Best part: no emissions. And it was made in the USofA (American brand, bitches) so the terrists don't win.
Green + AntiTerrist = I'm trendy as a mother fucker.
So I buckled down and bought a push mower from Amazon. For 45$ I got one of those old-school ones without a motor that you push around. Let me tell you something, this thing is so friggin' cool. I don't have a huge yard, so it's perfect for me, and it's a decent workout to boot. Best part: no emissions. And it was made in the USofA (American brand, bitches) so the terrists don't win.
Green + AntiTerrist = I'm trendy as a mother fucker.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Inside
Come on in,
it's open...
A new beginning,
but the end is already nigh.
After touch,
aftershock,
Breathe,
hold...
hold...
Release,
and exhale.
It's all there,
in my mind,
in the dark,
in your touch.
Inside out,
upside down,
an outside chance,
an inside bet.
it's open...
A new beginning,
but the end is already nigh.
After touch,
aftershock,
Breathe,
hold...
hold...
Release,
and exhale.
It's all there,
in my mind,
in the dark,
in your touch.
Inside out,
upside down,
an outside chance,
an inside bet.