buggin

Here in the southeast, there is a bug for every season, I recently shared with M--a literal bug. Spring is the season for tick-abundance, and like freckle posers or ends-of-sentences they appear on your skin as if they can escape your constantly editing eye. Or else they burrow in the dogs and have a feast, dislodge themselves and waddle away, brainless and dumb, off to provide a feast for birds or, in a decidedly lesser contribution to the circle of life, a horrifying squish experience for your bare foot.

Summer is mosquitoes, wasps and, toward the end, deer flies. Itchy, oppressive and mean as the heat itself. You fight them with toxic sprays and swatting hands and running feet, but ultimately you just have to endure their existence until the cool arrives, providing them an expiration date and you a sigh of relief.

Fall brings the stink bugs, brown and shield-shaped, and seeking a warm home. In spite of their unfortunate name, I have yet to encounter the actual stink, perhaps because my research came to me in advance of any encounter and I know better than to kill them. I simply ferry them from their place on the curtains and walls and window screens back outside. To me, these are the least offensive of all the bugs, because they are just there. Hanging out solo or in groups. Minding their own business, not attacking, and maybe more importantly, not scurrying.

Which brings me to winter and the bugs that are not bugs - mice. Every year we have at least two, appearing for the same reason as their predecessors (warmth), but these I cannot abide. Perhaps they tap into my deep-seated anxiety toward balloons and biscuit cans: the element of suspense, surprise. Or else I'm intimidated by a cleverness and physicality that can lead them, in spite of blindness, toward the darkened depths not in, but behind, a dishwasher.

Are these creatures questionable mascots for each season, a reason to wish the time away? Or are they simply what is there, a defining attribute or buggy backdrop to the scene...

My ridiculous arthritic carpel tunnel hand is completely distracting me today.

I hand-wrote an invitation last night - I'm going for typewriter font, so I suppose my hand was crunched oddly - but still. One invitation. And my entire forearm and hand are still off-and-on asleep. Does this seem strange to anyone else? I wear a special glove for crafty activities and everything. I don't get it. I'm trying not to obsess. You can see that's working very well. 

Perfect weather. I mean really. Other than the fine haze of yellow dust settled over ev.ery.thing. In fact I'm still wearing a sweatshirt, so it could be a little warmer, but as it is I am camped out on the back porch with the doors and windows wide open. Hello, spring. Here you are, after all. 

The CSA that I can barely afford at the moment is completely worth it - I don't know that I'll keep picking up directly at the farm, because it's kind of a haul, but it's flippin' adorable. The farmer who runs it! Love him! He doesn't say much, but he's super sweet. And last week loaded us up with a bunch of strange vegetables I wouldn't normally touch, but they've expanded our recipe horizons and so far there's been no complaints. From the people who actually it is, anyway.  

For our garden fare: there are sweet peas, which look way better than the sad few of last year. And the lettuce is sprouting, I think? Hard to tell with weeds that are also sprouting. And the whole thing needs more water, I know. Oh, and then, from the rotted pumpkin that was in the corner, there's a pumpkin patch that could take over the world . So I'll have to reign that in. But so far it's the winner, the first on the mat in this leg of the Amazing Race. 

Are you watching that this season? We're three eps behind. On that and everything. But all in due time. 

I'm completely antsy today. Damn hand. Haven't read a book in days. But maybe the library tomorrow. And the continued ponderance of summer break, which arrives shortly. I'm approaching it with not a shred of blind optimism; this year I'm aiming for full-fledged practicality. Like we can't afford camps every week, but maybe one or two? Or one camp and a class? Sprinkled in there to anticipate and maintain the momentum. Dare I dream. A camping trip? There's a cool-weather spot allegedly maybe 3 hours from here. An early June wedding. A possible late-summer road trip. A July ninja visit! Swimming lessons? A whole lot of uh, free time. And, you know, generally keeping everyone alive and relatively sane. Let us go forth with the least-favorite season and may we uncover any wonders it may hold. 

Hand: still asleep. Killing me. 

out-of-it

In which penelope whines a little, or maybe a lot.

my love,

it appears that I am deathly allergic to the state of virginia this spring. it’s not that I’ve never suffered seasonal allergies before. but this year has knocked me flat on my face. the allergycast/allergen threat level scale indicates we are damn near maxed out (11.4 out of 12 on saturday!) and meantime my sinuses and ears are leaden, my throat sore, my skin crawling. neti pot you say? it’s most uncomfortable and sadly unproductive. the old standby zyrtec? I can’t tell if it just doesn’t work on me anymore, or if the 2010 expiration date truly has meaning. I’m never inclined to think it does, with meds, but maybe. and local honey you say? I’m attempting, but so far no luck. the honey is produced in our neighborhood, like a mere mile from our house, maybe less. so it couldn’t be more local. or more delicious really. mmm honey. mmm hot steamy tea. but so far the whole antibodies theory is proving to be an oldwivestale.

whine.

so I’ve been largely unproductive/completely lethargic really since our return from athens, ashley, andi and le hunger games. and head and the heart! which i ‘ve been hearing in my mind eversince. I love love love them. the trip was grand, really. and you noticed my mug! on our video call yesterday. I really do love that mug. and your new dishes from the market.

I am meandering my way through “no angel,” feel like I’ll reach the end soon? possibly? it’s like watching an entire season of downton, except I cannot read nearly as fast as I can watch. and nearing the end we’re in the midst of an epic affair, and I do not love affairs. like if only I could reach through the pages and shake some shoulders, wring some necks. although at the same time I loathe when men are condescending, demeaning, to their amazing female counterparts, and so I suppose I’m torn. like did oliver really deserve that? his misogyny is a product of his time. and celia’s like a hurricane. and then the war, the terrible war and its psychological aftermath…

upcoming projects allegedly include painting the Bug’s room dusty lavender with pink polka dots and white butterflies. I mean the polka dots are stickers and the butterflies are wall hangings that were leftover from a friend’s own decorating ventures. and it will all be a surprise, when the children and j.lo go away for easter weekend. so shhh, don’t tell her. I hope I’ll be able to pull it off in time.

and of course sewing. so far completed: 6 napkins and a dish dryer. have some minor mending to do and then will be perusing box o’ fabrics for inspiration.

my eyeballs are leaking and the head vice is tightening. going to go sip some tea. from my new mug. with local honey. and some self-pity.

blah.

update us on your scandalous life when you have a chance….

xoxoxox

Pen,

Here's a poem from the book you gave me:

Ash Wednesday

Stepping from the brightness of Epiphany
I enter an unfamiliar place called "Lent"
My eyes are slow to adjust to the change.
I blink back tears and stand still wondering
if my eyes are open or closed,
for nothing visible lies before me.

My sense tell me there are objects ahead--
prized places, sacred spaces.
There is no sense of urgency;
time has fallen away leaving
forty days and forty nights
to explore this unknown, yet somehow familiar place;
touching, feeling, knowing holy moments.

-(gretchen oliver)

-I think this is how i feel about things.

In other news a list of things:

-chicago fallen away like a bright but distant memory of good food, friends, that restaurant (the one that I wanted that wouldn't open) trying to live on cash only and surviving. that was a feat even if this month is a failure. i want to say more but i already feel adrift from that magical place.
-my eye is twitching (still) and i don't even want to talk about my toe
-my nails are growing which is nice and i debate growing my hair long or cutting it but i don't suppose i mind the grey.
-the wisteria is blooming soft and alluring, the freesia is a heady druggingly sweet fragrance that hits you as you walk by and demands attention, the lilac is lovely, formal and reserved.
-i named the grey cat Mortimer. But i'd like a cat and a dog to have in the house. Not that i don't love the ones i have.
-i have to pick the rest of the oranges
-i have to paint
-and quilt
-i filled up a miniature journal. it only took me 1.4 years.
-i'm out of gas, so i have to go... so i can go get some. literally. i mean but i think i'm also out of gas non-literally. so either way.

have a good day,
m.

Penabird,

so yesterdays most magical moment was the scrubjay that was flitting around the patio. it paused to pluck down a wasp nest and i was immediately entranced. and then it kept staring at me, coming closer and closer, from palm frond, to closer palm frond to window ledge and so then in a highly scientific process i selected things for it to try. lets call him nomenclature. he liked the pistachios and almonds. though i was sorry not to have peanuts for him. i spied him later eating a caterpillar in a snapdragon patch. but nomenclature hasn't come back. i hope he does. i am sure he can probably talk. and he did let me get really close to him and open the window without frighting him away so we also have great rapport. oh come back to me nomenclature! don't let me go back into this dull world without you.

Penofmylife,

I don't think i can communicate enough the magnificence of such a dream. It taps very much into my secret desires to do exactly that, or squirrel away and be a hermit or come under someones teaching and take on my destiny. Perhaps its a warning that I shouldn't neglect you when I do. Remind me. I probably suggested you stay. That would've been grand. Next time your dream takes us on such a voyage, remember to stay with me- no matter what I say. It's clear there's some sort of key to the comings and goings of me. But apparently I do frustratingly thwart and deviate the path. I had a dream the night before, my mom reminded me, that involved me touring in a bus, in foreign lands and at one point of a bathroom stop i was barefoot, and I was wondering why didn't I put on my shoes and my mom was yelling at someone because the bathroom was so dirty, and I just remember it being impossible for me to go in there. Obviously according to you, I made it to my next stop. Last night I may or may not have been ziplining and rockclimbing in this gym, which was strangely after celebrating someones birthday who had the same birthday as jesus. And there were at least 5 other people celebrating birthdays and I was like, whoops i forgot to ask for candles, as we already had the cake, and the waitress brought them.

But anyway, oh I got our book we're going to read. I thought it would be thinner somehow but let me know when you're ready for it. I'm also reading this book called "scandalous risks"... I'm not sure how scandalous it is so far but we;ll see. I need to read today as yesterday I spent 10 hours watching tv. I did sort of work on the jewelry but mwah i'm feeling thwarted by materials, my vision, my lack of knowledge about jewelry construction and what if its not good enough? What if the materials break? What if its inferior to what i envisioned? Ach.

So let me tell you about my first ever, quite possibly, visual migraine... the pic is sideways but mom and i came in from touring the garden, where the other day we picked all of these beauties. It is the first of the spring harvest as we've been steadily picking bouquets since then. It always makes it hard to imagine there will be summer flowers to harvest. Ok, but anyway, I come in and i'm sitting down and i thought i'd stared into the light outside too long, so i blinked thinking it would go away. But no it extended out from to the right of my right eye like vibrating pixcelating piano keys in iridescent staccato. Like a scythe. It didn't matter which eye was open. There it was. Then after that I'd read things and there was a smudge in the way. The little one in the pic, the same color as the other one in the middle of my vision distorting only part of the words i was reading. And then the scythe came back a little closer in to the right side of my field of vision extending out and fluttering and finally sometime around closing my eyes (where it still appeared but was less distracting against a black background), taking aleve, lying down and listening to kill bill 1. it finally went away. WTF. Mom seemed to enjoy the camaraderie as she has visual migraines from time to time but anything new and possibly debilitating is so not cool with me right now. As my eyes were tired after, slightly headachy to boot and I can't say I feel particularly plucky this morning- even though there are places I can go, things to be crossed off the list.

In other news I've fully embraced quinoa as an awesome hearty grain, preparing it in vegetable broth is very tasty and so is mixing it with feta and cucumber- and dill and greens. The banana bread recipe hits the spot and now the only thing if we could have another thing is a scone recipe. There is still the waffle recipe and the pancake recipe to try also.

I will try not to make more cryptic references to "the letter" as I cannot possibly explain it here. But Pen you can explain however much you'd like to Andria. And this is a perfect segway to give props to callie who gets a total award for sending me a card that says exactly thee most perfect thing ever. Not that mom doesn't give me props for the chocolate attilla the bunny card from easter, but still. Cards do sometimes say it all. I'd lost faith, and yet there it is.

In other news before I go out to read in the sun, properly sprayed down for sun protection, i wanted to show you a pic of my innocent looking cat marley and then how if you scroll down i finally caught on camera the vicious attack he levied on my golden retriever. Bodo seemed to be glad of the attention, kind of? But still.

And in the sum of things, besides the migraine these are all good and true things, despite the nebulous, non productive week i've had.

see you in your dreams,

m.

Sundrelope,

this is a magnificent and old japanese magnolia tree, right at the height of its bloom and so fragrant. a fav hans hoffman in the new modern wing

cath cannot keep her eyes open.

ah, hello misty.

red clump tree? something.something?

train waiting.

pear blossoms? at the river.

infamous tulips everywhere

my walk along the lake.
adler and field museum in the distance. more blossoms in millenium park. what, more tulips?! headed to rockbottom. but cath looks good in that wine colored scarf.

and our henna exploits. which after the cool darkness end up orange later.

Pen,

So, off I went to the gem show at the LA arboretum. There was only one table with what I needed, so am sort of really kicking myself for not getting everything I needed when I went to PAS. These gems are for easter and the quality seemed less but still good? but still?. But anyway dad actually came along and so did mom- and everyone walked away with something fun to play with and all their money spent. Though dad refused to walk any further, mom and I had fun with the blossoms and dad insisted the peacocks were entertaining despite him not having left a 100ft radius of the entrance to the vast estate.

i bought him and took him home and am going to watch him grow and grow... here be vanity pics for FB profile pics, beware: i would delete this shot compartively speaking but i like the colorscape.
and then blossoms as big as your face!!! and my handy umbrella...
after all this me, me, me and mom... here's the rest- lunch (dad looking annoyed at either me taking yet another picture of myself or just me and my general shenaniganisms), hardware store (not pictured though i did walk away with a letter stamp set and a clamp for my jewelry making), drive thru starbucks, and checking for leaks at casa grande. then i was stolen away to eat garlic fries and not work on my jewelry. sacrifices, sacrifices.