journeys of a restless mind

ain't no minivan

Since I've pretty much just been wallowing in being sick this week instead of posting, let me direct you to my Club Mom blog where I've written a post about a real family car--our red Falcon station wagon.

the secret life of my neighborhood

Did you ever wonder what goes on at home when you are at work all day?  Do the toys in your child's bedroom animate themselves and cause mischief?  Do the neighbors throw raucous block parties?  Nope.  At home sick today, I can tell you with utter confidence that this is what happens:  there is lots of beeping.  Very loud beeping.  You know, that obnoxious noise that just about every vehicle bigger than a sports car emits when it goes into reverse.  I never knew how much important backing up goes on around here.  But, oh, it is plentiful, and it is loud.  Is there really a need for such insistent announcement of one's intent to go backwards?  Was there some sort of horrible epidemic in deaths by retreat that I didn't hear about?  Has the overall velocity of trucks going in reverse increased in such a way that  removing oneself from the vicinity of one has become increasingly difficult?

I can understand that a driver might not always be able to see everything happening on or about the rear bumper, and that he or she might therefore want to make sure that there is no crushing of the innocents, but really, I think this is a bit much.  All this backing up is happening not on the playgrounds of our schools, not in our living rooms or parks where our little children and pets and other valuable items reside.  No, this reversing of large commercial vehicles is happening, as far as I can tell, right there in the middle of the street where all the other traffic is.  And if you happen to be occupying said street and a big truck is there, too, and it starts moving towards you, I suggest you get out of the way, no matter which direction it is traveling.

Glad to have solved that issue for the day.  I think the sinus medication I'm taking is making me especially brilliant.  Now we can turn off all that infernal beeping and I can get some sleep so that I may get better and return to work tomorrow like the good little worker bee that I am.   If you have any thoughts on how to stop the infernal buzzing of  circular saws, please let me know.

boobies!

One of the coolest, most interesting, fun, and funny women that I met at BlogHer this year is the indomitable Sue Richards.  She really impressed me, especially her creative way of promoting herself and finding folks to teach her.  She has about seventeen blogs (here's one) and five or so other projects going at any given time.  One of those is the fabulous Breast of Canada calendar.   Not only is it beautiful to look at, but it is a wonderful resource for promoting breast health.  Click here for more information about the 2007 edition.  Now everybody knows that it's not just Canadian women who have breasts.  In fact, there are only two kinds of people in the world: those who have breasts, and those who know somone who does.  Which means that just about everybody needs to get ahold of this calendar pronto.  You wouldn't want me to lose my position as one of Sue's sworn Breast Ambassadors now would you?

of coffee and cozies

You know how on Live Journal and places where the young 'uns blog they often have mood stamps and places to say what they're listening to when they post?  Well, I need a feature that highlights what coffee I'm drinking.  Because I know that y'all can't possibly get through your day without knowing what sort of caffeinated beverage I'm imbibing.  For the record, right this very minute, I'm enjoying a big fat mug of this.  Which leads me to believe that perhaps I need to buy Maggie Mason's new book, which is entitled No One Cares What You Had for Lunch:  100 Ideas for Your Blog.  But that's silly, you folks care about the coffee, I know you do!  It matters to you that Yirgacheffe is one of my favorites, that this is some of the best coffee I've ever had.   I love turning over my little bag of beans and seeing that they were roasted on September 5th (I bought them on the 10th).  Because, my little buttercups, the secret to good coffee is getting expertly roasted beans when they're fresh.

And now, because I'm feeling shamed by Mighty Girl herself I will show you this hilarious foto of some renegade knitting street art:

This was taken through the windshield of my car while I was waiting at a stoplight, so it's not the greatest foto, but what you are gazing at is what can only be described as a cozy.  For the monorail.  It's swaths of knitting sewn together and wrapped around that post.  I've read about this new crazy trend of knitters taking their scraps and displaying them in public spaces rather like graffiti.  My googling for more info has been fruitless, but apparently Seattle is a hotbed of radical textile activity, as I've seen other less spectacular displays around town.  Keep warm, little monorail post!

click me, click me!

Over at my Club Mom blog, there's a nice foto of  me by Phil.

Isn't it funny that not until Phil and I went painting that afternoon and I spent an hour or two looking at the horizon and thinking hard about color did I come back to my office to realize that one of the window panes is tinted darker than the others?  All those weeks of staring out through the glass, and I didn't notice it.  What other things am I not noticing?  In what other countless ways must I wake up?

la piedra

I woke to the sound of foghorns this morning.  Sometimes I think I have a stone on my heart.  I can feel it there, pressing.   Should I try to push it off?  Or maybe try to figure out what it needs. There's a story in one of Hijo's books about a donkey who, in possession of some magic, panics and turns himself into a rock.  Maybe it is something bewitched I feel there in my chest.  Out my window the low white clouds hover over the water, enfolding everything below.  The ferries sound off and press forward through the mist.

leaf thoughts

It's hard to write anything today without thinking about five years ago.   It's hard to write anything about 9/11 without sounding as if you're co-opting it and making it about you or your agenda.  I just want to leave it alone, but I also want to acknowledge that it is a sad day.

Work is continuing to kick my ass.  Not only is there an overwhelming amount of tedious stuff to deal with, there is now a bigger issue that has to do with miscommunication and mistakes and the resulting cleanup.  The urge to run away is practically irresistable.

The leaves are just beginning to get some color on their edges, like torn paper dipped in watercolors.  The light reminds me of some lines in an Indigo Girls song--"I could go crazy on a night like tonight, when Summer's beginning to give up her fight."  By the end of next month it will be dark when I leave the office.

What happened to all the women in my life?  More and more the significant players are men (or a certain boy).  This is rather comical considering I am still as celibate as a door.  With one exception, most of my women friends are so busy with their own family lives that I don't see them very much.  Perhaps it's just that the Wednesday Night Single Mama's Blowout has been on hiatus for a couple of weeks, and I'm missing them.

The above-named exception, Miss Kimberly, has been baking in my kitchen again.  This time it was cookies--ginger cookies for one--and I informed her that the cookie tax was quite a bit higher than for other items.  She left us a big plate of spicy chewy goodness, and I'm going to miss it just a little bit when her own kitchen is finished.

Hijo's dad is still unemployed.  We thought he got a job, but it didn't pan out.  I barely have time to worry about that one.  Better to worry about the things I might be able to infuence a little bit.

There's a big pile of fallen-leaf thoughts for you.  A gust of wind must have come by to swirl them around in my mind.  In a minute they'll settle on the sidewalk and someone will walk by quickly, crunching them to dust under his feet.

Hijo's new smile