My Ramblings
Saturday, June 14, 2003
I've been looking for a site where I could submit my poorly drawn lamps for quite awhile, and I've finally found one. My personal favorite is the lamp mesmorizing the chicken.
I fell down in a ditch today. Although I'm not quite as clutzy as a few of my relatives (that shall remain nameless), I do tumble from time to time. I was trying to throw rocks into the ditch when one foot got caught behind the other one, and the process was in full swing. Why does everything move so slow when you're falling down? I had enough time to see my daughter turn and look at me. She reached her arm out and then pulled it back. She turned to get out of the ditch (guess she figured I'd fall on her). All this happened as I saw the ditch coming closer. I distinctly remember both feet left the ground for a short time, and though I don't care to use the term "airborne", well I guess I was. I landed on an outstretched arm and a hip. There was the typical three or four seconds where you feel the jolt of hitting the ground but don't feel any pain yet. I wondered how much this was going to hurt.
I stood, brushed off some dirt, and felt, well, okay. Except for a slightly sore arm, I don't feel too bad actually. My daughter didn't even ask me if I was all right, she just said, "Be careful mom" and walked off.
Friday, June 13, 2003
Part of living out here in the country is that everyone thinks they should own a dog. I don't personally have one, but everyone else seems to. Sometimes two or three. Except for when I decide to take a bike ride (and dogs follow me), I don't notice them much. During the day.
But at night, with an opened window, I have the unlucky ability to hear all dogs within a 3 mile radius of my home. It usually starts on a warm, quiet summer night. The crickets behind the house are chirping. An occasional cat fight is heard in the distance.
Something usually starts it off. A door shutting loudly. An illegal car zooming down the road. A gun shot. Then a dog will bark. Then another. Then another. It's almost entertaining to hear the dog dominos fall into place. The neighbor dog, then their neighbor's dog, then their neighbor's dog.... Pretty soon the woods are filled with howls, screeches, yelps. I listen and wonder if everyone else is hearing this too. How far does this barking progression go? Is it a huge wave that will eventually complete the circle and return to my neighborhood?
I remember this phenomena as a child, having grown up in the woods. I wasn't as patient back then. I recall screaming out my window, "SHUT UP!" a few times (our neighbors at the time weren't close enough to be able to identify the screamer). After I yelled, the noise would pause, then resume. I live too close to neighbors to do that now. I'm sure the dog barking wouldn't wake them, but my shouting would.
Some nights I lay there thinking I'd like a dog whistle. I've never had one, but would probably have fun with it. I'd sit at the window, on a silent summer evening when sleeping wasn't a priority, and blow it forcefully, awakening the neighbor dog, starting the cycle. I'd feel a sense of accomplishment knowing that I was the one that started the uproar in the woods this time and not caused by the hicks down the road shooting a squirrel.
Tonight I hear illegal fireworks going off down the road, dogs barking, and know it's not going to be a quiet night.
I keep hoping to find an update on this guy who plastic wrapped his house from fear of an attack a few months ago. I'd like to know if his house is still in plastic. If his wife still lives with him. If his children are laughed at. Most importantly, if the plastic fumes have overcome them yet.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
I saw a creepy show about the bus children a few weeks ago. One of those things I tend to recall as I'm falling asleep (and the Darren thing isn't working).
While tending to my chickens tonight, I rested the hose down on the ground to get the shovel. My son then ran over to the hose, cranked the nozzle to the "super soaker" spray mode, and proceeded to spray me. It was probably just a few seconds, but long enough for me to catch that evil little grin on his face and drench my entire backside. I yelled at him, he ran off to harrass the cat, and I was dripping. What causes kids to do this sort of thing anyway?
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
I caught myself thinking about this again before I went to sleep last night, and I know this sounds rather strange, but as I'm trying to fall asleep, I try to picture the two Darrens from Bewitched, side by side.
I watched that show quite a bit as a kid. It seemed to be on a lot during summer vacation (meaning during the day when I ordinarily would be at school). I always thought my favorite Darren was the one that looked like a kinder, nicer person, while the other Darren had a more furrowed brow than the other. That was the mean Darren. I have no idea which Darren came first, as I didn't pay that close of attention. I just know that if I concentrate hard enough, I can picture one (always the mean one first. I see his eyebrows). Then I concentrate really hard and picture the nicer Darren.
Now, the trick in my mind is getting these two Darrens together, side by side. As soon as I picture one, the other one fades.
One Darren was gay. I recently saw an interview of him on TV, captured a decade or so ago, opening up cards sent to him by fans wishing him well. I can verify in my mind that he was indeed the "mean" Darren. Something about the eyebrows.
Then I can switch my mind over to the other, kinder Darren. He was on the same recent show, an interview being conducted while he sat in a wheel chair hooked up to oxygen. He wasn't looking very good. He seemed so harsh in the interview, I hesistate to remember him as being the nicer of the two.
But even with this updated footage of the two Darrens....
Now of course I could do some online search and find pictures of the Darrens, and that might clear up my lack of focus. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to capture them together, as I drift off to sleep.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
It was around this time last year that my son let a swarm of moths into our house. Oh, we had the occasional moth circling a lamp before, but never in this number. It was dark outside, so as soon as he opened the back door, those nasty bugs saw the ceiling fan light and headed toward it. I was in my office working when I heard the kids yell, "MOM! Bugs!" I peek out the office door to see about 100 moths going round and round the light.
I wasn't sure what to do so I called my mom (who didn't have any clever ideas either). The ceiling is vaulted, so it was too high to just start swinging a broom around. They moths were not the least bit interested in the open back door, even with the porch lights on. They appeared to be a more aggressive-type moth (like I'm familiar with types of moths?) as they started to dive into our hair, our face. My kids started screaming and running through the room, making the moths seem to even more chaotic.
The answer to the solution seems much more simple to me now that I'm not in the situation, but at the time it took a good 10 minutes to figure this out. I turned off all the lights in the house, turned on the porch light, and opened the door. The kids and I went outside too, so we weren't in the Moth Path. We waited.
The moths started coming out to the porch light. Slowly at first, but then they all figured out the light was outside. After I felt a large number had herded itself outside, the kids and I went back in.
There were still quite a few moths in the house, but they were manageable. They seemed to have landed in different parts of the room, so we each had a shoe and went to work. About a half hour later, remnants of moths lay on the floor and the smell of death lay heavily in the air.
By the way, mottephobia is a fear of moths.
I was really looking forward to seeing the Colossal Colon first hand, but I'll still be on the road at that time. Now I'll just have to resort to looking at pictures.
Monday, June 09, 2003
It's always a bit odd when you discover there's a popular subculture out there that you didn't know existed. I discovered one today that I really hadn't paid much attention to, despite even being invited to a party involving this activity.
Scrapbooking.
I use to have a scrapbook when I was a kid. It was a big pink thing with ugly brown pages. I tried to do it the "right" way by using those tiny white paper tabs for the corners of my memorabilia, but weren't those things a pain? I don't recall anything lasting long using these tabs, and I'd resort to good ol' Rubber Cement, which really wasn't conducive for special things that had two sides. That was what I knew of scrapbooking, or even really wanted to know.
That is, until the last preschool board meeting when someone mentioned a "great gift for the teacher" and "a scrapbook page of each child." Several of the mother's eyes lit up. One even volunteered to put the book together.
There's a scrapbook store down the street, they said.
Today my three-year-old son and I went to this scrapbook store. Did you know they had stores just for scrapbooking? I didn't. There were at least 8 aisles of paper alone. You name the color, the print...they had it. Then on a far wall were the notorious "dye cuts" I've heard so much about. There were eighty one different types of scissors. Sharp stencils. Stickers with every theme you'd ever want (if you're looking specifically for stickers involving types of garden rakes, you've come to the right place). Crafting tools I'd never seen before at a very steep price.
A big sign on the wall that announced a Scrapbooking 101 sort of thing being offered. Wow, there's even a class.
I chose the materials that seemed appropriate and forked over the $14 for mere paper (I didn't want to linger too long since my son had just stepped on a little shelf at the end of an aisle and knocked down a rack of small containers).
Not only is it hard to understand how people can afford such a hobby, I really can't grasp how they find the time.
What I didn't see in there were those little white paper tabs OR Rubber Cement. Apparently someone decided there was money to be made by getting people excited over decorating their memories into fancy books, using cut out pieces of paper into shapes for decoration attached to a high-quality background paper with a faded sunrise in the background. Are the smiling horsie stickers going to brighten little Susie's memories of summer camp, despite her being trampled by the horse?
Scrapbooking. It's a hobby I think I'll pass.
Sunday, June 08, 2003
You'd think by cheating and using "user friendly" programs online, I would've had this "blog" thing up and running in no time. No. It took two days and a lot of frustration. Even this blogger site (I don't particularly care for that word, "blogger") said, (and I quote) "You need two minutes" in order to get yourself situated. I'm not sure whether to blame the FTP portion of this project, or the fact that some green Jake-the-Snake thing was yelling in my ear, but it's taken me considerably longer than two minutes.
Anyhow, I'm looking forward to online journaling. I've got lots to say.
