Thursday, June 28, 2007
Alarm at seven, get up at seven thirty or so. Eyes gritty because we sleep with the windows open. Eat. Make tea. Do a little writing and reading. Drink tea. Go somewhere--to my daughter's, to a social engagement, like lunch or tea with someone. Possibly go into some store or other for something more or less necessary. If I'm lucky, take a nap. Come home later than I thought I would, often in traffic. Make dinner and have surprisingly cordial conversation with running son and college daughter and the historian. Take Bruiser and Betty to the dog park. Do a little more writing or reading. Maybe watch a little tv. Make a sack lunch for running son.
Is Bruiser allowed to sleep on the couch? What about Betty?
Yes, both. Betty has to make more of an effort than Bruiser, though.
So, how's that couch doing?
It has a healthy soupcon of dog hair and also a dash of dog park dirt on it.
Is Bruiser allowed to get up on your bed?
Enough questions about Bruiser.
Do you really all sit down together and have dinner each evening?
This week? Yes.
What'd you buy at Costco today?
Bagels, turkey, tomatoes, a watermelon, Red Vines, a couple of books. Cheese.
What'd you have for dinner tonight?
Bagel sandwiches and watermelon.
Do you spend money every day?
Sadly, shockingly, pretty much, I do.
How's that paper you're writing going? Fantastic?
If I could turn this "blog post" into "an introduction," I'd be doing very well indeed.
Is this summer everything you'd hoped for and more?
It's definitely more. I'm still hoping for "everything I'd hoped for." I'm completely optimistic, though.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The actual workers, as in, where you have to show up to a specific place mostly on time and get a paycheck, are: college daughter, running son, and the historian. Everyone except me, the dogs, and cat, in other words. (We're writing a paper. Also a poem a day for the rest of the summer.)
College daughter has settled in, for the most part, into her job managing a Subway that's located down the street from a Hooters, and hence is known as the Hooters store. She works like a dog for pay that's not quite as good as you think it should be. Also, fast food places hardly ever close, so she doesn't get many days off. (I'm complaining on her behalf, as she doesn't complain much, very impressive.)
Running son started his job as a laborer for a company of electricians. It's a union shop, so they get paid well even for unskilled labor, he gets a chance to be an apprentice electrician (he can carry on through all the steps if he wants to--mainly, he's working until he goes on an LDS mission in the fall sometime), he gets holidays, and he'll get a raise before long. The downside is he has to be at work at 6 a.m., and the job site is about 45 min. away. So he has to haul his butt out of bed at an hour when even God isn't awake. He hasn't quite adjusted--he comes home exhausted and it's very easy, in that case, to take a little nap, which takes the edge off his sleep. "I missed my window of sleeportunity," he told me tonight, which is hilarious but also sad. As a person for whom sleep is now occasionally elusive, I feel his pain.
The historian is his steady self. We both like to be up late and are always stunned by how, at seven a.m., it's already seven a.m. Time for the snooze button dance, after which he pulls on his dean suit and goes to work.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
I had to have a brief cry about five or six times yesterday. I am a crier, but that's a lot even for me. Why, I really can't say. I slept in the afternoon. The historian made sure the swamp cooler was working (even though we really need to get a new one, which entails research about getting the right kind, etc., which takes time, time I didn't have because it was hot and I really needed a nap), a gesture of loving kindness that brought about one of the brief cries. When we went to the farmer's market in the morning, which usually is a big high for me, it just seemed like so. many. people. that we kind of had to move right on out of there.
Anyway, last night, after we came home from our movie (Once, which I highly, highly recommend--a straightforward music-based movie, and it is wonderful music, that is just the kind of thing we all need sometimes), I went straight to this laptop and started composing a poem. That's a good feeling at any time. I was listening to the new Feist (again, highly recommended) and then to Martina Topley-Bird and then to Massive Attack. Dear reader, I composed straight through three cds. That's how good it was to write a poem. I intend for this to be the beginning of a stretch of creativity the likes of which the megastore hasn't seen in quite some time. If it involves some random crying, so be it.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
This year, I enrolled in a workshop, mainly because it was being taught by a poet whose work I love and I was thrilled about the chance to just meet her. It has been excellent, if slightly troubled by a sensitive new-age guy with not very much sense about how he was hogging the discourse space. Maybe that was just me.
I did better this year at schmoozing, aka networking. I went to the big party the night before the conference and hung out and talked with the poet. I picked up a poet/editor at the airport and I'm taking him back to the airport tomorrow. I had a manuscript consultation with him (he liked my work! he liked it!) and I'm sending him my manuscript at his invitation, which makes me feel like singing and dancing. I introduced the poet aforementioned, and he's the poetry editor of a literary magazine. A bunch of us took the poets, a fiction writer, and one of the fellowship winners to lunch yesterday at Trio. I helped them get tickets to the Lucinda Williams concert tomorrow night.
And--and this, my readers, is the best part--I am going tomorrow with the poet whose work I love to make a few returns at Anthropologie (her returns, not mine; her idea, not mine). I'm giving her my manuscript (at her invitation), but she said, and I quote, "this will be the best way for us to hang out, I think." How, how did she know? Shopping and poetry. Speak, o Muse!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The thing about it is, there's a system for shopping there, and I don't mean a system as in "First, I always go check out the sale racks" kind of a system--I mean system as in "you have to follow the footprints on the floor" kind of a system. So we went upstairs, which is where you start with the showrooms. It's kind of impressive, although after about half of the upstairs, I felt worn out from spare Scandinavian style design. Exhausted, really. We ate at the cafe, where Swedish meatballs abounded.
But what I was there for was textiles, which in my case meant bedding. There's been a commercial, and it's been kind of seducing me. Colorful duvets! Pillow shams! Happy families rolling around in the colorful duvets! Etc. And I was not disappointed, although I did have to summon reserves of energy to actually select and locate the textiles I wanted.
I will spare you the details of the downstairs, which is where all the actual flatpacked furnishings are located, the ones you pick up and pay for. And then, there's the picking up and the paying. All in all, the trip to IKEA, which was rather restrained, since we didn't buy or even consider buying much, took us about 2 and a half hours, which is apparently par for the course according to my IKEA-frequenting contacts. The upside is, we have new curtains, a new duvet and cover, and matching pillow sham covers on our bed, and frankly, things have never looked better. You can see the results for yourselves.
Friday, June 15, 2007
My friend and I had a wonderful time. We ate nothing but delicious food, the mist burned off on the beach so we had some sun, we caught up with each other, shared insights about turning 50 (not to say we whined and moaned--not at all! don't even think it!). We took in the lovely little art museum in town. We took pictures.
I realized during the driving parts of the trip that during the time I actually lived in the greater Los Angeles area, when I was in high school, I didn't do all that much driving around, so my felt map of L.A. is completely partial--full of holes. I love the chances I get to go there and do something I've never done before--find La Cienega, surprise myself by going to the Beverly Center, see a new town, pass road signs I'll probably never get a chance to follow. Eat breakfast at Jan's, which bills itself as "The Best Coffee Shop in L.A." The place where we ate breakfast--twice--in Santa Barbara, Pierre La Fond Bistro, was a lot better in terms of the breakfast. But it's a bistro, not a coffee shop. Also, not in L.A. So the comparison probably isn't fair.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Other pleasurable happenings: we ran into some friends (the historian has known them since before we knew each other) who'd been married forever, who endured a rather lengthy and sometimes bitter separation, and now have decided to reconcile and looked suspiciously happy about it. We saw some friends from work and their adorable baby. We bought bread and a croissant (for me) from the excellent Crumb Bros. bakery people. We bought some arugula and some broccoli raab greens from Chad the vegetable impresario.
I am a little worried, because my herb people weren't there, and neither was the small-scale farmer the historian and I call Tremonton girl. I have already seen some of my favorite farmer vendors fall by the wayside, and I am not having any more of it. My herb people are important to me.
But on the plus side, there were the beautiful, tiny, super-fragrant and super-sweet strawberries from Weeks Berries of Paradise. Also, little new potatoes that are the color and size of a small Super Ball. And peas. So I am just going to cook those potatoes and peas right up, together, and maybe chop a little mint to go with them, and cross my fingers that Tremonton Girl and the herb people show up next week, or the week after.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
- some of us have graduated from high school
- some of us have resigned our positions as sandwich artists and are applying for other, more highly remunerative jobs, while others of us have been promoted to the position of Manager of Sandwich Artists (I think that's the title of the job, anyway--)
- some of us manage to play video games into the night in the party-shed and still get up by 11 a.m.!
- some of us are working away on various writing projects while also doing laundry
- some of us get up every morning to go to a job
In other news, the cat has become a mighty hunter of mice again. Death toll for the mice: 4 and rising. The worst part of this is the piles of guts we find (this is how we conduct the death toll).
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Historian and Evie
Asleep in the car
Historian, driving like the wind
Moon over St. George (the night before we left them)