Friday ramble.

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We’ve had a three-day heatwave this week – highs in the 90’s, which is about 25 degrees warmer than usual. With the heat have come the crickets and I am currently sitting in my office, windows open, listening to their song. With the windows open I can also hear the distant highway traffic, a dog barking from somewhere across the creek and the whine of our cabinetmaker-neighbor’s jigsaw wafting over from the old barn. Stevie is under my desk keeping watch for trouble and Astra is snoring in the bedroom.

Astra. She has slowed down noticeably over the past few months – spends most of the day under the comforter on the bed and isn’t always eating at mealtimes. I fear her days may be winding down. She’s a “third-hand” cat, rescued from a bad situation and not always appreciative of her human captors. She can also be very loving – she is particularly fond of S. – and it makes me sad to see her getting so old.

S. is out of town this weekend my plans for this evening involve beer, an unhealthy meal and some time in the backyard, staring up at the stars.

I wish you all a lovely weekend.
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Evening out.

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S. and I went to GIDDY UPS (shut up) last night. They have a good blues jam on Wednesdays and the crowd always provides extra entertainment. For some reason last night, every other person who walked in looked a lot like someone else to me. Spotted were dopplegangers for: John Cleese, the BTK Killer, Sam Elliott, Ed Gein, the Quaker Oats man, and a few others. Good times.
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The highlight of the evening for me was when I was at the bar ordering drinks and some random redhaired guy touched my hair and said, “Is this natural?” “Yes”, I replied, then I touched his hair and asked, “Is this?”. Shut his ass down. As I have stated time and time again, America: DO NOT TOUCH THE LASS. You’ll be sorry. He tried to recover by saying how redheads are only 10 of the world’s population and how FREAKY that there we were, two redheads in the same place. Alert the newspapers!!
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My dream life has been rich this week. Last night I spent what seemed like forever acting as a tour guide for a bus load of Muslims who were visiting from some unnamed eastern country. Toward the end of the dream, we arrived at a house where there was going to be a party and Dennis Rodman walked in to MC the event and I was freaking out because I thought he would probably do something to offend the Muslims.

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Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some cult business and some writing work to attend to. Carry on.

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I think I can…

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What I have accomplished so far today:

Made the bed.
Read the paper.
Answered emails.
Chatted with my sister.
Washed dishes.
Made a Facebook page for the Empire Carpet Guy.
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What I still need to accomplish today:

Work on entries for writing contests (two looming deadlines).
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How my obituary will probably read:

“She could have been a great writer, but the time spent creating a Facebook page for the Empire Carpet Guy took the last ounce of creative energy from her, leaving behind an empty shell of a woman. Her last days were spent roaming the pasture of her Texas farm, talking to cats.”
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I gotta go.
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This sound does not subscribe to the international plan.

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Want to amaze a three-year-old? Sing this: “A, B, C, D, have you any wool? How I wonder what you are.” Freak-out guaranteed. Or as younger charge put it yesterday…”It’s the same song but it’s NOT the same!!!”
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I woke up this morning with two really good writing ideas. This is a rare and magical occurrence. One will have to wait until the big project is completed, but I think it could be the next big project. The only forseeable downside is that I would have to spend a lot of time out of town for research and I’m not sure how I would be able to swing that. I think the first step is to put out some feelers on it and make sure something similar isn’t already in the works.
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ANDREW wrote yesterday about Thoreau finding inspiration while walking. I frequently find little snippets of ideas popping into my head while out and about. At one point, I started carrying my micro-recorder with me so that I wouldn’t lose these ideas between my walk and home. What I found was that although these ideas seemed stellar while the endorphins were kicking, upon second review they were just kind of average. Oh, well.
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One of my sister’s kids is writing a biography of me (imagine how exciting that is) and I am getting almost-daily phone calls from him as he realizes he needs to ask follow-up questions on certain things. He is writing down the questions ahead of time and the calls typically go something like this:

Gabe: “Rie? Remember your second band? Remember you said you played on a radio show? (pause) What was the name of the radio station and how did you get asked to be on the radio show? Also, did you put out any cd’s?”

I answer the questions and then Gabe says, “Okay, that’s all I needed. Bye.” and hangs up. I’m not sure why, but this cracks me up every time. The terseness of the calls and underlying urgency in his voice are hilarious.
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Finally today I want to remind everyone that I have added a few new links to the blogroll that are worth checking out. And I’d like to give a special shout-out to SMED, whose new music blog is providing me with many frightening and amusing flashbacks to my musical youth. I heartily recommend a visit.
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Random celebrity tidbit: While I have my doubts, I really hope that THIS STORY is true.
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Over and out.
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P.S. and forgive me.

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S. and I watched part of the Oscars ceremony last night and I want to make a public plea to Goldie Hawn:

PUT THOSE THINGS AWAY.

Or at the very least, get a dress that fits you, Grandma.  Gah.

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(If you haven’t plucked your eyes out and can still read, scroll back one for an earlier entry.)
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Weekend wrap-up.

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What was going to be a weekend spent recovering from LAST weekend and catching up on work turned into another social weekend with some of S.’s family. It was fun but these are younger family members (in their 20’s) and once again, I could not keep up. We met up early Saturday evening and I did fine until we hit 6th Street, where the roads were blocked off and the cops were out with riot gear in anticipation of Mardi Gras madness. No, thanks. So we decamped to a slightly less crazy spot, got our picture taken by a great photographer, and came home. Yesterday we met for lunch and took a brief driving tour of our fair town, then came home and collapsed.
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I spent part of yesterday trying to console and counsel one of Mystery Bro’s kids in regard to a very upsetting situation in her life. My concern was taken as lecturing and I ended up pissing her off (which, frankly, isn’t hard to do), and, well, she’ll just have to get over it. She is probably the smartest of all the grandkids but she has a way to go in her emotional development, which makes her a bit prickly. I ended up emailing her to tell her that anything I say comes from a place of love and concern and while it might not always be what she wants to hear, that love and concern will abide. Like the dude.
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Let’s see, what else…I have been eating Girl Scout cookies with wild abandon since Friday…tasty, but not good for my efforts to maintain my weight. There is a long, tedious essay in me somewhere about what this whole weight-loss thing has done for me and to me. The short story is that I felt like I lost too much weight and intentionally gained back about ten pounds, which in turn has felt somewhat like a failure – it’s fucked up, I know. I look fine, I still fit in my clothes, but there’s some little voice that says…”You lost that weight…why is it back?” I haven’t been walking at all lately and I’m sure if I started that up again I would feel better overall. Blah. I told you it was tedious.
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I have to proof something and send it off to the online publication gods so that’s all you get for now, internet.
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Boogie Heads!

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No, I’m not calling you names. I’m alerting you to something I found via the POTEET STRAWBERRY FESTIVAL’s website. S. and I were considering a trip to the festival during my nephew’s visit. Reading about this “new captivating and innovative concept taking the US by storm” sealed the deal for us (well, for me, anyway). Basically, it’s enhanced karaoke in which video equipment and a blue screen are used to superimpose your head over pre-recorded dancing bodies. Count me in.

Visit the BOOGIE HEADS website to see this marvel of the 21st century for yourselves.
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Shhhhh!

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A few posts back, some of you called me on my promise to post my deeply-held secrets. Because I only have a few, and they aren’t particularly interesting, I will instead share some less-secret (but perhaps more revealing) truths about myself.
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• Phil Collins’ song “Against All Odds” makes me well up every time I hear it. I have no sentimental attachment to the song, it doesn’t remind me of anyone, it’s just always made me cry. This was particularly embarrassing when the song first came out in 1984, as I was a cool rock chick. Damn you to hell, Phil Collins.

• I suffered from anxiety-induced profuse sweating from junior high through most of high school. I didn’t smell bad, but I was so fearful of people seeing the pit stains that I took to wearing mostly dark clothes and/or wearing a sweater over everything I owned. The problem disappeared as I gained social confidence during my senior year of high school and has never returned, thank God.

• When I was in 7th grade, my friend Christine and I shoplifted cosmetics from our local Walgreen’s store. I felt so guilty about it that I went home and told my mom, who promptly drove me back over to the store and made me pay for what I’d taken. It took me a long time to go back into that store and when I did, I was always terrified that the clerk or the manager would kick me out. (Obviously, a life of crime was never really a possibility for me.)

• I am genuinely surprised and slightly uneasy when anyone pays me a compliment. About anything. I live inside my head so much that it rarely occurs to me that anyone else might be paying attention and startles me when I realize they are. I think a lot of this stems from my social anxiety which is its own kind of strange narcissism – when I am speaking with people – particularly anyone I don’t know well – I am so worried about what I am saying that I filter out a lot of the conversation and often can’t remember what I’ve said. Or what the other person has said. It’s like being acutely aware of what is being said but unable to hear at the same time.

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Is that enough for you? I hope so. Because I have some things to do today.
Secret things….
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Welcome to Ran-dome.

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Gamera is the children’s friend, but he will blow hot flaming death at you if you cross him.  (Reminds me a little of myself…)

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This week, I am outlining an article for an ‘online publication’  (go ahead and snicker).    The subject  matter is something I have very little interest in, but I am doing it anyway because I think it will make me some easy money.    Yes, baby, I will write your article whichever way you want it, but while I do so I will mentally be miles away, counting my take.   I, hooker.

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I need my SS card for a work-related thing, and an exhaustive search of my desk, fire safe and filing cabinets has turned up nothing.  So, I ‘ve decided the easier thing to do is to make a trip to the local SSA office for a replacement…a trip which should yield good blog fodder, if nothing else.

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A while ago, I had an idea to randomly type the names of people I’ve lost touch with into a post and see if they ever get here by Googling themselves.  (Yes, that’s the kind of intellectual stuff I come up with on my own…) I’m gonna start with these three:  Mike McMullin, Mark Signorelli and Hrafnhildur Palsdottir,  stand and deliver!

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Okay, I really, really have to get to work.  Damn it.

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No more monkey business.

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Several of you pointed me to THIS HORRIFIC STORY yesterday.   Chimps, apparently, don’t make good house pets.  Especially when you overfeed them and give them Xanax.  Go figure, internet.  Does it surprise any of you that my sympathies lie squarely with the chimp? Or that I secretly wish he had wrestled the knife out of his owner’s hand and stabbed her?   Because I do.

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And while I’m on the subject, have any of you been following the CHEETA saga?  Very strange and a little bit sad.

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So there are two depressing animal tales for you.  What else do I have….um…nothing.  I have a boatload of work to do, thanks to my shiftlessness last week and my long weekend.  I am off to be productive.  And to rethink that helper monkey.

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