im so bored. there are things to do, yes, but i always struggle in the afternoons... nap? read? i know if i lay down now, i wont know anything again until 5:00. bear and pup are already napping, sleeping in spots they arent normally allowed, making their naps twice as sweet.

me on the other hand.. i think about packing for the upcoming wedding weekend, but lose the desire somewhere between the hallway and the bedroom. i fiddle with my hair, wishing i had been able to make an appointment today for the cut it needs. im waiting for a package and know that if only it would come now, i would have at least 30 minutes worth of entertainment.

i really need to get a job.

a conversation with zeph

he told me about the fireworks that went off last night and 'made a lot of noisey' and 'thunders'. i told him about one of the books i am bringing for him, a story about a spider. he asked if it was a biiigg dada spider and i let him know it was just a little one, a nice one that lives in a zoo. like the horned owls? thats right, i said. he asked about granma-ma (who is my mom, granma being the chris' mom) and i told him we would see him soon.

in all, we talked about 10 minutes. now if only i could get ezra to talk so long.

a day with rick steves

it should be a cozy day, despite my wish for specific company. the weatherman is promising rain for most of the day, starting in a few hours, and already the skies are white and grey with cloud cover. im settled down with my rick steves guidebook to great britain, reading about the cotswolds and highlighting points of interest. even puppy has been on my lap; i think she senses the storms and is also in need of some companionship, since bear is busy bird-watching from the front porch.

i have a thing for rick steves. not rick, specifically; he's married with kids - their photos are all through this book. its what he gave me that makes me loyal. back in 1999, during my first trip to europe, my sister and i got a rick steves guidebook along with our railpass. the trip was as last minute as european trips can get; we booked the flights and railpasses only 2 months before and just barely got our passports in time. we had no idea where we would actually go, only that we would leave from norway (where we met up with our norwegian friends) and that we had settled on portugal as the final destination. thomas, always the thinker, had suggested we go to northern portugal, where he heard the towns were quaint. i, however, also being a thinker when i had the time, had read a bit of rick's book and fell in love with his recommendation of a town on the algarve coast, a place called salema. even the name sounds romantic.

so we went to salema, a surprising win for me, and it ended up becoming the most amazing 4 or 5 days of the trip. actually, i believe it was 5 days, but we didnt know that until after we left. i mean, how good is a place that, not just one, but four people lose track of the days? it wasnt until we reached a hostel in lisbon that we found out the correct date and felt bad for arguing about the extra money we owed to the nice couple that rented to us.

you see why i love rick steves. i only hope his great britain suggestions give me half as much joy as salema did.

renewed by conversations about my upcoming trips, i am in a much better mood today. we found some stunning photos of stirling, scotland and in my mind, the list has already started. hawai'i is not even 2 weeks away; thoughts of the beach and time with my sister are filling my head. buying stuff online for both trips is another source of fun. and really, i only spent the amount ill be earning by house/dog-sitting when i return. of course, that could have been saved for groceries, however, there is nothing like a great tee shirt and who really needs to eat? ill just eat the, uhm, 2 corncobs, 1 tomato and 3 watermelons that are close to being ripe in the garden. or perhaps there is someone out there who would exchange a meal for some good conversation?
really, its not as bad as all that. im actually in the middle of making some oatmeal cookies to send to my aunt betty. i got the idea after baking the banana bread this morning, since i realized, even after freezing some for later, i would have too much on my hands. i do so love banana bread. im also using the vegan trick my brother taught me, a mashed banana instead of an egg. ill let you know how it turns out, andrew.

im also in need of a strong arm to mix this; thats what i get for forgetting to put out the butter to soften.

bear does sentry duty for my pc

breaking hearts never looked so cool or how come im so oblivious to these things?

it must be me because they are certainly normal, nice people. they just exhaust me.

heres the reason: they feel the need to just focus on me. i get told the stories. i get asked the questions. im the one who has to decide what type of dinner to get. who wouldnt get tired after even an hour? and its not like i just met them either. ill contribute to the conversation, just dont make it all about me.

it could be the family thing - everyone else there was related, so anybody new is, well, new. i can see that, but come on. i know it can be hard for others (i nearly wrote outsiders there, which probably has more truth to it) to be around my family. we make each other laugh, we are quick and witty. (im not saying that other families arent funny, because they probably are too.. but to us, we are each others favorite comic. no one makes me laugh as much as my family. now, to you, maybe not so funny.) but, when we are together, and there are others there, we do not inundate them with explanations about old inside jokes, or trouble them with stories from years ago. please, please, just talk about current events or hobbies or the weather, even. if you want me to just smile and nod for three hours while i invent reasons to leave in my head, then by all means, continue telling me about the time your mom put all the ketchup in the heinz bottle and your brother in law had no idea.

doesnt the glazed look on my face give me away?
seriously, listen to what my eyes are telling you.

the telling of stories, of course, has its own place. i have told my small share and heard a million of them from aunts, uncles, grandparents and the like. it occurs to me that perhaps that was their goal... to make me feel part of the family. or worse, make me actually part of the family at some future time.

i suppose ill just have to set everything straight tomorrow. but how to do it?

i thought i would take some pictures, but when it came down to it, i didnt even take out the camera. familar roads were different somehow and i realized that it was because the treeline had changed; old oaks that once canopied the streets had been destroyed by the hurricane. within 5 minutes of being in the local store (read Wal-Mart), i ran into an old co-worker - she was the cook, i was the server. she was nice enough not to mention all those recipes of hers i sorta ended up with when i left. i also saw someone i recognized as an old friend of my older sister; it just happened to be a reunion weekend. she was striding purposefully down the aisle and i hid behind the shampoo. i saw a ton of people that knew me as a kid and that somehow, amazingly, still cared about me and my family. i chatted with my aunt and we exchanged cat stories.

the old house is a wreck; honestly, the worst house in the neighborhood. i drove by slowly, noting the trees that were only saplings when i left, the garage roof looking shabbier than ever, and this clenched my heart a bit, the little playhouse my grandfather made us, tilted drunkenly to the side; it seemed the ground was gently rising to catch it. that tiny house probably still held my secrets...there were little slots along the ceiling, not meant to be shelves or even pockets, but we made great use of them. code names like nancy drew, bess and george were written in and thats where our "mail" was delivered. my cousin greg smashed his fist through the window that one and only time i locked him in. i can still remember the look his mother gave me when attending to his bleeding hand. there was a giant frog that took up residence one summer and didnt mind that we kept buckets of tadpoles we captured from the ditches in there, too. it was a place i went to think, even as a teenager.

and now as an adult, i feel its loss.

where is your boy tonight? i hope he is a gentleman.

i am such a sucker. nancy drew stationery? how could i be so taken in? anyone like a letter?

and so it is...

i was in bed.

fresh bursts of winds are shaking the trees outside my window and although i cant see the tops of the cedar trees near the road, i see their black shadows swaying on the ground. the rain has been constant, leaving drops of water twinkling like stars in the light from the neighbor's house. i just lay there at the edge of the bed, and try to make out which way the wind is blowing.

its hard to sleep.

he doesnt want her, but he just wont let her go

now all we need is a good name and some talent

you can barely make us out; we are dwarfed by the tree trunks we stand on and the white sky behind creates a glare that puts us in shadow. theres andrew, foremost, lounging against the largest tree and emanating a cool aloofness. em's face, on the opposite side of the same tree, is in the darkness, but her body is angled in such a way that you know her eyes are flashing and her mouth is set. deb is behind andrew and looking off into the distance, rebelling from the camera, with her hat nearly over her eyes. and finally myself, off to the side, nearly off this island of trees, with a wool hat and suede jacket with the collar up.

if only melissa hadnt been behind the camera, this picture would have been complete.

never ending open wound that started from a simple scratch

im not reminded everytime. but occasionally, it seems so recent, so new, and the hurt surprises me with how sharp it still is. no warning really; and i know thats what i meant to happen - that i could just glance at my arm, and see a thin, white sliver of a scar and relive the pain of that day. the pain of those months that year so many years ago.

"travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness."

-mark twain

William Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

really, what is it with some guys?

i am not going to be impressed by the size of your semi-truck.
dont wait for me at the stop sign.
slowing down to ask me if im exercising is a waste of my time (and probably a waste of yours).

i have mastered the disinterested-straight ahead-focused on my music-look.
of course, i mastered that look in several forms a long time ago.

Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert (1857)

a few exerpts from the book:

"but a woman is always hampered. at once inert and flexible, she has against her the weakness of the flesh and legal dependance. her will, like the veil of her bonnet, held by a string, flutters in every wind; there is always some desire that draws her, some conventionality that restrains."

"love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outburst and lightnings - a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionizes it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss."

"everything seemed to her enveloped in a black atmosphere floating confusedly over the exterior of things, and sorrow was engulfed within her soul with soft shrieks such as the winter wind makes in ruined castles."