"That's not writing - that's typing." --Truman Capote
Like I said in my last post, I don’t do resolutions. I also don’t usually find solace or meaning in ceremonies. The big, grand statements of life do not move me. The small moments, compounded together – the quiet moments of everyday life when you realize what they have added up to: that’s what creates meaning for me. Change can happen any day – it doesn’t have to be the first of the year, or a big birthday, or any other artificial point on the calendar.
So why is it that in the first few days of this new year we have rearranged furniture, I have made moves toward brushing up my French, and I have this overwhelming awareness of the fact that I’m turning 40 in a few months?
Oh, and of course, I have had strong thoughts about rejuvenating my barely existent yoga practice. Naturally.
So why did I just subscribe to a French-language instructional podcast? Hmmm.
He sent me this e-mail today (he’s off work until the new year):
floor done
plumbing done
clean up done
dry cleaning dropped off
time for lunch
then a run to the dump
then groceries
and a chilifest
My response:
haiku on steroids
husband’s to-do list is long
you are done? thank you.
…to go with my new haircut?
If I look wryly amused, it’s because John said, "It will be cute!" and I said, "When it grows out, or when you get used to it?"
He’s a nice boy and a good husband, so you can probably guess the answer.
We’re doing Thanksgiving at our house this year – our usual routine is to go to my aunt’s, but she’s had an emergency in her family, so we dropped back, punted, and John’s brining a turkey this very minute.
As the household baker, I am in charge of pies. Mom and I powered through pumpkin and had the apple in the oven, when I came in to see Dash on the counter and this:
Dead. Cat. Walking.
You wouldn’t think he was evil, to look at him:
Anyway, there’s another pie in the oven. Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends, and happy Thursday to the rest of the world.
A small PSA: if you have occasion to call chez Writingortyping, we may now be reached via our cell phones. Cell coverage in our area finally improved to the point where we could (and did) tell Verizon where to get off. Since it seemed our home phone number was primarily used by pollsters and alarming prerecorded messages that started, "Don’t be alarmed!" I can’t say I will miss being landlined.
If you don’t know our cell numbers and should, shoot me an e-mail or leave me a comment.
ETA: I also have a skype account for people who have that preference. If you want the connectivity info, same drill applies.
This Jezebel post articulates some of the very thoughts I have had, not just since the election, but before.
Interesting.
The view off of our back deck this morning. Sometimes early rising is worth it.
Heading to the grocery store, John has some "Top 40 of our misspent teenage years" show on the radio, starring the cryogenically frozen head of Casey Kasem. Inevitably, REO Speedwagon comes on.
Heard it from a friend who…
Heard it from a friend who…
Heard it from another –
"Well, that sounds like an incredibly reliable chain."
"So, is that an information need? Does it involve information-seeking behavior?"
"Sounds more like information transmission to me."
"We’re really geeks, aren’t we?"
"Yes, but at least you’ll get a blog post out of it."