December the Swift

I found a poemish sort of thing I wrote a few years ago when I was down in LA pining for the soggy Northwest. With the downpour we had today though, I must have been hallucinating from a Vitamin D overload to have ever truly yearned for weather like this. Anyway the poem~

Emerald City

Lavender clouds dot the sky....and it begins to rain.

I have waited months for this~the annual baptism into my city.

my heartache,

my home.

How I have missed your towering fortresses, your skyline, your scent.

I abandoned you....too early...even before I had to....

yet each time I return....you accept me~without question~without judgement.

And I think, intuitively, you know, in your emerald wisdom, that a part of me will always stay~

scattered somewhere between Brooklyn Ave and Ballard.

For you were my first love, my growing pains and who could forget the memory of that?

November the Dreary

I'm so freakin' tired this week. Maybe I have mono. Or maybe the depression I feel about still not having finished my damn living room has finally caught up to me. Or maybe I'm over worked. Maybe I'm just a sniveling little whiner who is just lucky enough to have a house and JobS! to complain over. Or maybe I'm getting soggy and growing gills from all this rain. Or maybe maybe~I'm just tired =)

Novembery

*Today's To Do List*

Vacuum wallpaper shavings and Dagobaz fur from living room carpet

Call Miss Alice

Return library books

Bury dead garage possums

Pay gas bill

And so the possum saga continues....I decided today was the day to reclaim the garage and revert it back to it's original use instead of being used as a furniture warehouse and possum cemetery. After digging a hole and disposing of two shriveled little bodies, Edgar informed me that I had one more to go. Unfortunately for him, he had discovered the 3rd causality a few days earlier while attempting to find a leaf rake. Fortunately for me, the possum had had the good sense to die on a blanket. Now I'm the last one to throw anything away without using up the very marrow of the thing. And even though it was from mexico and in perfectly good shape-I had to toss the dead possum blanket. No matter how many times you wash it, there's something about cozyin' up in a blanket which a small mammal expired and indeed decayed on, which is downright unpleasant.

November Chill

Had an infamous Lake bonfire last night and my baby sister was her spritey little self, which was nice. Anyway, standing around a roaring fire with crickets chirping in your ear and a cold beer in your hand, one gets philosophical. And so, keeping with the theme of last night and honoring the good ol' boys aptly named drew & ian, here is my list of bonfire truths~

1. People die too young sometimes and there's nothing you can do about it but honor who they were and what they might have become.

2. Sometimes the only thing holding you back from what you want most in this life is your own self imposed chains. Barriers that you've built around yourself for one reason or another and that only you can take down.

3. That good men & women are hard too find. Should you be so lucky to stumble across one-do whatever is in your power to hold onto them.

4. People surprise you. You find out that your dad, who you've never seen throw a football or kick a soccer ball, ice skates every winter. Or that your mountain man of a brother wants to move to Dubai.

*November*

I smell of bleach and beer. This small town existence is killing me. Oh Hollywood~

October Leaves..

Today, while my mom and I were moving furniture, I scrunched a possum's mummified skull. Besides how utterly unsettling and downright nasty this was and overlooking the fact that I can still feel it's little cranium cracking beneath my feet, it was rather a comedic moment. I nearly dropped the headboard I was carrying and i think my mom is still chortling over the squeal of disgust which escaped my lips. And no worries animal lovers, it had been dead for quite some time prior to me stepping on its head.

October the Grey

Making popcorn to help me eat away my financial woes. I hate being responsible sometimes. Every spare dime, nickel or dirty little penny I have seems to be sucked up by my bloody mortgage and I've been subsisting on potatoes and the random bag of vegetables my grandma gave me which mostly consists of cabbage. Who outside of Russia eats cabbage?? I don't know what the hell to even do with it. But at least now I have popcorn~which gives me some sort of nutrition I suppose. Oh yah~thanks for the butter mom. I stole it out of your fridge while you were in the shower.

Octoberlicious

Last night I went to my mom's to begin our annual immersion into the all famous Ivy Hill Halloween season. As typical, we decorated a little, drank alot and fell asleep in front of the fire. But it is safe to say fall has begun...my mom made an apple pie which reviled Aub's (A shocker! for those of you who know how she bakes=), I raked some leaves today and I saw a pumpkin at the grocery store which a little person could carve out and live in should they ever be in desperate need of edible shelter. Edgar bet me $5 bucks it wasn't real but I snorted at him. It might be a little hicky up here but people sure know how to grow their veggies.

OcToBer the Great

ForGive Me~for not calling, not writing, barely communicating at all. It's my passive and pathetic excuse at self defense. When I shout out "I'm fine! Really, I'm glad to be home!" it's a bit like pulling off a bandaid when you know full well your still bleeding. As you bear your teeth and show the world just how tough you are, you finally glance down to see blood dripping on your shoe.

OCToBer AgAin

Left LA two months ago today. As I coaxed a tear soaked Aubrey into her car, I tried to present a stoic front. But today, driving to work, there's no one to be strong for and so I let the tears roll down with only the trees flying be to judge me~

StiLL OcToBeR

Some latent genetic disorder has surfaced in me and unfortunately it looks as if I have been susceptible and indeed caught, my mother's schizophrenic need to restore old victorian houses. I have torn apart my living room and my dear, sweet boy has hunkered down to help me. "HeY BaBy! Travel half way across the country, to a state where you don't know anyone, where neither of us has a job, move into a drafty old victorian house way to big for just the two of us and tear apart the only finished room in the entire house because I simply can't bear the teal leaf wallpaper any longer". "Ok HoNey," he says. I love this man.

OcToBer

It's funny how fucked up moving can make you. Things you used to hate-you suddenly miss. Things you couldn't wait to try have already lost their luster. Your stuck with a big empty house-full of crap you don't really need-desperately trying to find some minimum wage slave labor job just to hold on to it all. Is is even worth it?