I miss writing, I really do. But in order to write these days, I’d have to give up sleeping. And that won’t do at all.
Le sigh.
Just Checking In
15 Wednesday May 2013
Posted in Speaking of Corn
Hey You!
25 Thursday Apr 2013
Posted in Speaking of Corn
Holy crap! I just figured out how to read the data graphs that are hidden away inside pages on this website! That more than 50 people still read this blog! That there have been over 10,000 hits on this site in about a year and half! I’m like a fraction of a fraction of a fraction semi-pro! Hello you readers I didn’t even know were there! Who are you, and why you never write?
Today is a glorious day. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and that is not just some cheesy opening to a really bad short story. It’s true. We’ve had one hell of a winter here this spring and we’ve been none too happy about it. Just last night I went to a freezing cold baseball game in my down parka with the fuzz fake fur around the hood – you know, the one that goes down past my knees…and now, today, it’s over 50 degrees and I’m not even going to put on a jacket to go home from work!
Baby steps, people.
Mainers might actually keel over should we experience too much good weather in April. We’d die of sheer shock. Therefore, we keep our comforters on our beds, our wood stoves stoked, and the wool socks in the drawer. I think it’s so that when spring finally does arrive we do this:
And who doesn’t want a little of whatever it is Snoopy’s got?
I feel like Snoopy here does today; about my little blog that could, the weather, and also the fact that there’s another baseball game tonight. I am telling you: if you need a bit of your faith in humanity restored, a Little League game is the way to go. Baseball brings out the best in our community – from coaches to umps to announcers to players, all volunteers, by the way, and every one of them there so our kids can play their hearts out at something that brings us all joy. Seems simple. But the best things in life are.
Hamster Logic
17 Wednesday Apr 2013
Posted in Psychotherapy
“If you’re reading this, congratulations, you’re alive. If that’s not something to smile about, I don’t know what is.” –Chad Sugg
I’m trying to believe the above quote, but the truth is: my heart hurts and I’m not smiling a whole lot today.
Guy and Garrett flew out of Portland on Saturday morning and I was asked by lots of loving friends if I thought North Korea would brazenly fire a missile at Seoul and if so, what might happen to my boys, who are 4 hours away from there, in Daegu. I had no answer, except to say I sure hoped not, and that we’d figure it out and deal with it if it happened.
AND. As it did happen, so far anyway, they’re safer there than they are 4 hours away from here, in Boston. Where no one has openly threatened war.
Here, the lunatics are sneaky, conniving, insidious. There’s no fanatical waving of an arm, no defiant shouting. Just the bombs speaking.
Of course, when the explosions went off, thanks to social media, I knew within minutes. I sprang up, heading directly for the living room where Guy was reading. Except he wasn’t. Because he was in South Korea.
And I stood in the space next to the chair where he should have been reading and puddled all up and began to pace in circles, wringing my hands.
This reminded me of our hamster, Otis, and the day we brought him home. I explained to Natalie that the pet store, the only world he’d ever known, had just disappeared forever. Pacing in circles seemed a completely understandable way of trying to set it right again, like Superman flying so fast around the world he turned back time. Somehow I convinced her, and myself, of this.
But now, I say: someone please. Give me something. Make it so the world tilts at a normal angle again, so that things make sense.
The pacing in circles isn’t working.
