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Every once in awhile these days I get a far off look in my eyes. It is a combination of things, but when I cannot get time that is actually silent my head drifts off and my eyes look into the middle distance.

Today, my son really wanted me to be more present so he reached into his pocket of tricks. First, he started talking about our upcoming adventure plan (DragonCon!) and what being in the parade might be like. So that was nice.

Then he started to sing to me.

The songs he sings about me, to me, and for me crack my chest wide open.
Songs to the tune of every song he has ever heard, in the key of Almost-5, with lyics written by Stream of Thought.
In a soft voice, with a small smile, and a growing understanding of the power of a boy/man singing.

It was a very good thing. I am grateful.


“I have chosen to not be certain of anything at all.”

Welcome to Night Vale
Episode 5 – The Shape in Grove Park

I like absurd things. I liked the Griffin & Sabine books when they came out. The Third Body, a book nobody ever heard of (even the author it seems) has a strange flow that suited me well at the time. Salvador Dali is my favorite artist. I collect flying pigs.

Into my geek collection is Welcome To Night Vale, a podcast that is completely absurd. I love it. I love that they are threading real stories through casual references to the Sheriff’s Secret Police. That I am curious about the Dog Park even though it doesn’t exist and I should never think of it again.

What I like most is the moments that make me cry. When I am just flowing along on Cecil’s beautiful voice and strange turns of phrase and then he mentions everyone going into the town center – and leaving a space for those who didn’t survive.

“When life seems dangerous and unmanageable, just remember that it is and that you can’t survive forever.
Denny’s Resturants.
Why Not?”

Welcome to Night Vale
Episode 27 – First Date

I am trying to un-mute. It is difficult, but I am trying.

One week ago I was orienting my niece to our house, because she was here for her visit. Her parents and brother were in a penthouse downtown (Indigo for those in the know) that was nicer than … a lot of places I have lived.

Since then I have visited the bottom of Tallulah Gorge (again), traveled to Helen, and bought a $12 dress because I smelled SO BAD in my actual clothing.

Since then I have tubed down a river, sat in a river, stood in a river, helped some young men in a river, and screamed / squeaked / swore in a river.

Since then I have seriously considered writing a letter to that ATL TSA and saying thank you, because I didn’t spend the money to take my niece to the gate – but I got to anyhow and it was a good thing (last minute gate change which will screw up even the most seasoned traveler).

Since then I’ve stretched my professional boundaries while I worked hard to learn fast.

Since then I’ve fought to preserve Take Out & Top Shot, even when it would have been easier not to. Even when it was the show when Kelley left – because of a fucking cannon for fuck’s sake (really????? This week??????). It might not be a classic summer tradition, but it is ours.

Since then I’ve seen a dear friend crying, wanting to protect her son and keep moving forward, and I’ve seen her son crying. He broke my heart.

Since then, I’ve taken temporary possession of a beautiful animal that I promise to tend to well. I’ve also promised to take care of a car… like you do.

Oh yeah, and there is another 24 hours of eye drops every 30 minutes (while awake), moving onto ever hour after that.

I haven’t provided the kind of birthday I wanted to for my friend.
I haven’t been the wife and mother I wanted to be.
I haven’t been to they gym at ALL this week.

I will put one foot in front of the other, I will wake up in the morning and try again. It is strange days, but they can still be wonderful if I choose to remember that I am in charge of them.

The tech asked me, “So what are you coming in for today?”

“I need an x-ray of my left foot.”

“What happened?”

“I injured it running when I stepped on a tree root.”

“When was that?”

“Three years ago.”

Results tomorrow.

I’m thinking about the imaginary rules I’ve set up for myself over time, especially when it comes to images. I’m wondering if you have some too.

Facebook – my profile picture is a picture of me. RARELY (Father’s or Mother’s Day, or with some particular cause) I will switch it out for a day or two but I like having a space that is primarily mine. My fb masthead is a family picture, but I see that one so rarely I don’t often think about it.

Twitter – Professional Headshot, but different than the professional shot I have on LinkdIn.

My computer desktop – rapid fire change. For a long time it was pictures of my husband / kid that were relatively recent. Yesterday it was a rooster with the word “ROAR.” next to it. Today is the Venn Diagram of Superhero Comic Tropes.

Walls in my office – ((crickets)) um. yeah.

Walls at home – I no longer have prints from Artists of Note. I have art from my dad, from husband’s grandfather, a couple of local folks, and some really excellent / educational / oddball graphic design. I am pretty amazed that during a gathering of my lovely girlfriends nobody noticed that I had framed typography reference sitting next to the loo. What I don’t have – photographs of my family.

My phone lock screen – For almost a year it was a picture of a concrete statue named (in my head) Happy Dog. Now, his younger sister Happy Frog sitting on top of my orange Kindle cover (at son’s request).

The one I want to change and haven’t figured out how to yet. My gravatar, a lovely picture of me that is 6 years old – different hair, different location, different life. Time to bring that one up to speed.

I woke up at 4a in the middle of a fight / anxiety dream. I rolled over but couldn’t get disengaged from the dream and woke all the way up. Grabbed my phone and flipped through, stuff.

The Zimmerman verdict came down. My fb page has both sides shouting loudly.

Then I see a post from my old music teacher, Corey Monteith died. He was 31 and playing Finn Hudson on Glee. Likely addiction related, as he had struggled with addiction since he was 19.

I would like to see the show write him off as an actual death … but. His show girlfriend (all of the disclaimers about how not really but still sorta blah) was also his actual girlfriend and I cannot imagine how anyone with any heart at all could ask her to do that in front of a camera.

The season starts Sept 19 and they haven’t started to film yet. I cannot imagine how this will happen.

I’m using Glee as a distraction right now. It is 4:45 and I need to put the twitter down and try to sleep some more. We live in a strange world where things work out very differently than you first think they might.

Choose your secret thing. Today, right now. Choose it.

Now, don’t tell anyone about it (I think mine might be kitchen knife skills), not yet at least (or taking another run at ukulele).

Promise yourself 20 hours (I miss dancing, just like I do every summer) that you’ll practice it.

Not to sell it, not to be an expert, but to be good enough at it that you can tuck it away as something (ooooh, tying those Chinese knots) you can do.

This isn’t my personal idea (I’d like to start math from the beginning and get all the way to calculus (note: way more than 20 hours)) but the idea of Josh Kaufman.

It has been in my head as I find myself without things to plan (I would like to learn to whittle). I like planning things that I am excited about. I like big things to plan. It makes me keep moving on the little things (what would it take to make a fairy house) so that I can make room for the big thing.

Twenty hours (photoshop).

Time dialed in for adding to your personal (zumba moves) arsenal.

Have you chosen it yet?

Twenty hours, less time than I have spent watching Glee in the last year. Surely having a new secret super-ish power is worth twenty hours.