Saying yes...

Zombie Food Fight

ZRM?? Were you in Iowa City last night??

Blogging Question: Possible Weirdo Edition

Does anyone else see blog locations in their mind?? I've noticed this for a couple of years now, but I see a blog flowchart in my mind that has nothing to do with my bookmark placement, frequency of visits, blog appeal, blogs that send me checks, ponies, etc. 

If I'm bored, taking a break and scanning the bookmarks for a place to stop, when I pick one, I'll then on some level, make a note of its location. I'll then work out from there or head the other direction. Some are directly to the left or the right... some kind of up and off to the side. There are also ones on the end. If I hit one on the end, I actually have to take a millisecond and readjust my direction.

ZRM happens to be the last stop on the far right. Three Bulls are the last stop on the far left. Snag, directly to my right... BG is kind of angled up to the right... and so on and so on and so on.

Just curious if anyone else has this experience or if I should get an MRI. 

Also wondering if this falls into Synesthesia... which my sisters and I all have to varying degrees... (BG, I think you said you did as well).

Ok, resume what you were doing...

Can you guess who it is??

I'm giving no hints.  

Update: Ok... maybe one hint. Neither Grizzled nor I are in this photo.  Also... this photo may or may not disappear after approx 48 hrs in order to protect the innocent, but mainly the guilty.

 

This may or may not be a clue, but after BG's comment, I couldn't resist...

Short saying...

I just got a blog search for "short saying telling him how much I like him"... Hmmm, how about:

I LIKE YOU!

Which Would Be Worse?

Knowing a certain freedom and then having it go away, or never knowing until it was too late and that freedom not being an option anymore??

I'm not thinking in heavy duty terms of freedom or lack thereof, but rather am thinking about young adulthood. While it used to be the norm to go from parents' house into a married household of your own, it's now the norm to have your young adult life all to yourself, for a protracted amount of time, before entering into a blessed union that may or may not include children, but which will still limit the freedom you once had. (Or course, many choose to not enter into any union, but I'm thinking the freedom of having all of your options still erodes with time.)

I've pondered this question for awhile... even before I knew the freedom of young adulthood and then chose willingly and gleefully to leave it, but it came up again the other day while the Eldest Lamblet was reading one of my books from the shelf Grizzled refers to as the "Women's Studies" shelf (always said without a lick of sarcasm...Of course I could refer to all of the other history books as "Men's Studies"...) One thing she mentioned was that she wished women had written more about themselves... even when they did write about themselves.

I had to agree. I've often been disappointed when reading historical diaries since the average person so often wrote little about their inner life, their thoughts, something I've always enjoyed... finding out what makes people tick, what they're really all about while showing the world their shiny, presentable sides. I wish the diary entries had included something like:

April 23, 1883

If John Robert walks in with his muddy boots one more time, I'm going to scream! Apparently I'm only here to cook and clean. We've been apart all day. Doesn't he wonder what wonderful insights I've had while doing laundry down by the stream?!? Doesn't he want to know that I've rethought his underclothing and am thinking that a much smaller article of clothing would not only be easier to clean, but would also be more attractive?? I foresee a day when attractive men are selling undergarments by the power of their own good looks!!! But until then... I scrub.   ~Mrs. John Robert Beckham

The usual diary entries were more about the weather, who came to visit, what crops had failed and who was sick. It seems they rarely wrote about how they felt about this. I've often wondered though if they knew how they felt about this or if they just took it as par for the course. Was feeling and acknowledging those feelings something that emerged with the easing of daily life thus giving more time for introspection??

But, back to my original question... I wonder if a women (or man) or a certain era missed the freedom of young adulthood if they didn't get it, and in this case, I'm thinking people only a generation or two removed. Did the woman/man who raised their children in say... the 40's/50's miss the freedom of being out on their own and discovering themselves because they went straight into another nuclear family situation? Did a woman know she maybe hadn't truly *discovered* herself because she went straight from her father's house into her husband's house? While my first inkling is they probably didn't... at least not at first, I have to second guess myself since so many woman of a mature age left those confining roles to indeed, find themselves.

Did they only want to *find themselves* or experience a level of independence once they realized younger generations were doing this as a normal rite of passage or is this yearning, to varying degrees, in the average human?

Which is more challenging, moving from one household with parents/children, etc, into your own household as a parent with children and never knowing that freedom of being on your own, or is it, being on your own for some protracted amount of time and then moving back into the traditional setting of marriage and family. I don't care how much you love the people you're with, there are some days when you want to get off of work, come home and just do whatever the hell you want which might also include quitting that job you're merely keeping for your family's sake.

Do you miss this freedom more if you had it or if you never got it?? 

(And no, I'm not going through a midlife crisis... not anymore than the average person anyhow... and I also rememeber that I spent huge amounts of my *freedom* searching for the Mr. Wonderful who would rid me of it.)

random randomness about snags

-- Because I am so not blogging right now, today I'm going to post two! I feel like Ernie Banks.

I am a big fan of the random conversation... the stream of consciousness conversation... the conversation that takes on deep importance even though the subject matter is quite bogus. Maybe that's why I like any number of comment threads around the internets. They just take off into parts unknown and everyone is on board, treating it as though it were a serious matter.

My lamblets are naturals at the random bogus conversation, as is Grizzled. Grizzled didn't realize it though until he met me. I've built up his ignored RBC muscles whether he liked it or not. The lamblets though have been steeped in it since birth. As soon as they were old enough to talk, I went from spelling everything and naming everything to asking random questions. Car time was perfect for this. While driving, I'd ask, "Ok, if the dogs could drive, what type of car would they drive and why?" It was decided that Argus (RIP) would have driven a big Kleenex box of a car since he loved to eat Kleenexes. He'd also have a convertible. Wilson (RIP) would not have a convertible. He hated thunder and was not fond of wind, however he did love the sun, so maybe a sun roof, but he'd need the reassurance that a partial roof could bring...

And off we'd go, discussing what music they would listen to and why. What destinations and why. There were many conversations like this. Still are. They seem so normal I rarely notice them, but every once in awhile I find myself stepping outside of myself and observing, wondering what a fellow traveler might think if his car window had been down and he'd heard a snippet of our chat.

Today, after leaving the pet store, the eldest lamblet said she had been checking out the "Snags". I asked if she didn't mean "ferret". She said no... it was a Snag, she was sure, because Snags will eat anything-- they're part goat and part ferret, but the goat gene is recessive, which is why they look like ferrets-- and this one was apparently chewing on a cage-mate's tail, therefore it was really a snag... Conversations about Snags continued until we were in the car and listening to Bruce Springsteen's "Adam Raised a Cain". The lamblet was certain he was singing "Oyster Pig" during the refrain. I assured her he was not singing oyster pig... besides, what was an oyster pig?? A pig covered in a shell? Would it live on land or in the water?  She said she thought it would be an oyster shell that when opened, had ham inside... they were found in fresh water.

Fresh water??? I was skeptical because ham is nothing if not salty. I would seriously doubt the existence of oyster pigs in fresh water... which led to the question of would a fresh water oyster pig hold pork while a salt water oyster pig would hold ham??

It was about this time that we were pulling into the driveway and I was discussing what needed to get done before the day was over...  thoughts of oyster pigs leaving my mind while wrestling with the large bag of dog food, I heard the lamblet say, "Fresh water or salt water, I'm guessing a snag would eat them...".

I think she's right, but preferably wrapped in bacon and drizzled with bourbon.

Non-Post #3 or #4... Or Something...

It's June 10th and there's a windchill... it's 59 out, but feels like 53. Did I mention it's June 10th? I thought the weather in zone 5 was not allowed a windchill after the full moon in May. It's June 10th. No more windchill, ok??

Speaking of June 10th, it's insanely bright in the wee hours during this time of year which is nice since I'm usually awake in the wee hours. It might as well be light out. Tomorrow is the youngest lamblet's b-day (It's also aif's b-day. Happy early B-day, aif!!!) and since today is the last full day of school, she took her b-day treat with her today. She decided that she needed Dunkin Donut Munchkins which was fine with me. Our school still allows homemade treats so I was actually happy I didn't have to crank out 24 monkey cupcakes ala last year. Munchkins it would be, but I knew I had to get them first thing... I wanted them to be fresh and wanted to get them before the run on donuts began. Since Grizzled and I were wide awake by 5... did I mention it's insanely light in the morning during this time of year... we ventured off to the DD to make sure we scored enough Munchkins. I expected a line, I forget that not everyone is wide awake at 5:30. I was kind of worried ALL MUNCHKINS WOULD BE GONE!!! I forgot we had an advantage by being early risers. There were only 2 other cars in the parking lot, one of which was a police car... there oughta be a law...

But enough about Munchkins... I'm currently working on some sketches for some paintings. The ideas for these paintings came about during a side conversation and actually have nothing to do with the final subject matter. Anyone looking at the final work will have no idea what the initial seed looked like or what the initial conversation was about. The final paintings will be images of a metaphor, but no one will know but me (well, and a couple of other people). It had me wondering though if as science, etc, advances, if there might be a way for us to find out. Could you grind up the painting, put it into a solution and then break down the componentswhich would also ultimately reveal the original inspiration?? Wouldn't that be interesting? Pretty soon museums and galleries, etc, could show not only the original work, but the original idea that led to the final piece. Who knows what you'd see! And I wonder how many of the original seeds would have absolutely anything to do with the final piece? I'm guessing very few.  And of course, ultimately the original idea means nothing to the viewer because the viewer is the final "decider". The viewer is the one who decides what it means to them. The rest may be interesting, but doesn't really matter.

Still... I can't help, but wonder if the original idea that led to these paintings will affect how I go about them. Will they look different than had I approached them with a different thought in mind? Will that original thought be perceptible on some level that we aren't aware of?? Will there be some cell, somewhere in the viewer's body that can pick up on the subtle path from start to finish? Or does it just matter that they are finished and connect with something in the viewers mind...

I'm finished. End of non-post. I need to find a sweater.

Tagged like the endangered species I am...

Bill Stankus has tagged me with the following meme... since it's raining out and my current plans have been canceled, I guess I'll answer. Bill, I thank you for the diversion.

1. What are your current obsessions?
Fully remembering what I've almost remembered and then not forgetting it later.

2. Which items from your wardrobe do you wear most often?
Jeans and paint-smeared t-shirts.

3. What's for dinner?
Fresh asparagus from the garden and, per the eldest lamblet's request, pork schnitzel. May the force be with me.

4. Last thing you bought?
A book.

5. What are you listening to?
International History Channel

6. If you were a god/goddess who would you be?
Hmmm, Ganesha might be fun... removing obstacles and all. Plus, a trunk could be interesting.

7. Favorite holiday spots?
Depends on the holiday... but usually revolves around seeing people I love.

8. Reading right now?
"The Gary Snyder Reader: Prose, Poetry, and Translations"

9. Four words to describe yourself.
Creative, funny, nice, moody.

10. Guilty pleasure?
Naps

11. Who or what makes or made you laugh until you’re weak?
Many people or things make me laugh, but no one does it like Scott.

12. First spring thing?
New birds on the block.

13. Planning to travel to next?
My hometown, to pick up a kiln.

14. Best thing you ate or drank lately?
A spinach/scallion omelet that Grizzled made from an old family recipe. Also... a glass of water in the middle of the night. Nothing tastes better.

15. When did you last get tipsy?
Last weekend.

16. Favorite ever film?
That's too hard to answer. I have too many. I can't narrow it down to one.

17. Care to share some wisdom?
Floss.

18. If you could change one thing in your life what would it be?
Same as most people probably... I wish I knew then what I know now.

19. What scares you?
Not figuring it out before my time is up.

20. What are your blog turn-ons and turns-offs?
I like blogs that are creative, that make me laugh, and where the blogger shares something about their inner-workings. Or... any that cause me to successfully procrastinate when the urge arises. As for turn-offs... unnecessary meanness... and... any that don't allow me to successfully procrastinate when the urge arises.

One Rule:
They say you've got to answer all the questions, change one and add one ... but... wouldn't changing one really be not answering one and if you're not answering one, aren't you then breaking the rule??? And, if you're changing it, are you not really adding one? I'm so confused... I think this is my last question.

I'm not going to tag this time, but will allow you to tag yourself should you so choose. ZRM- if you do this, you've got to do yours as an xtranormal film.... n'kay?

Scone got your tongue?

Has anyone ever left you speechless?? I don't just mean momentarily, like after a particularly off the wall comment, but I mean, literally speechless, time and time again.

I had it happen to me once. It was the strangest thing. Many years ago, when I was working at a dreaded Starbuck's, fleshing out my bohemian existence with coffee and insurance... I was known for my memory and my banter. I remembered what the regulars wanted (I did the morning shift in the financial district so it was the same people wanting the same jumpstart every day.) I'd have their order ready for them and that usually left us time to exchange pleasantries along with a few smartass retorts.

I could, and did, talk to anyone... except for Mr. Scone. Oh, Mr. Scone was nice to look at... but that wasn't it, there were plenty of people who were nice to look at. Mr. Scone continually fed me opening volleys that would and should have been fodder for my fast mouth, but no... Mr. Scone would come in and I would stand their like a deer frozen in the headlights. I'd gather myself together long enough to get him what he wanted, but could never. say. a. word. EVER! It got to the point where he'd walk in and my co-workers would just start laughing. They could see it... my lips became sealed, my throat, clenched. No words would come from my mouth. I could speak to the person standing next to him, but never him. I have no idea why.

He was attractive. He was gainfully employed. He had an impish smile and obviously knew how to throw out the lines that called for a response. If anyone else had said half the things he said to me, I would have verbally been all over them and back, but not him. I could not speak in front of the man let alone to the man. It was embarrassing. A situation like that had never happened before and has never happened again. Sure, I'll trip over words or I'll keep quiet out of knowing better than to open my mouth at the wrong time, but I know I can still speak if I really want to. Not with Mr. Scone...

I've always wonder what that was... should I have taken him in the backroom and had my way with him on the unopened boxes of grande cups?? Would that have freed my speech?? Or, were my vocal chords trying to protect me. Was he really an American Psycho? I'll never know. Mr. Scone went his way and I went mine... and, as I said, I've never had that problem again. I'm guessing there are times when Grizzled wishes I would.

And on the 8th day, God created Google Earth...

This morning...

Youngest Lamblet: "Mom, would you please print out a picture of when the continents were all one?"

Me: "You mean Pangaea? Sure... let me see if I can find one."

 
YL: "No Mom, not a cartoon picture. A real one. You know, like from Google Earth..."

Educational discussion regarding the time line of Earth, Man, and Google followed directly after that last comment... Although, wouldn't it be awesome if there were a Google Earth that time traveled. I still think we need more Googles.