I Think That You Came Too Soon

Right, I'm only about seven years behind everyone else who's heard of Joseph Arthur, but this song, "Honey and the Moon," was on the "Live at KEXP" CD I got for supporting their pledge drive, and...wow. Better late than never, for sure. Excerpt:

Remember when we first met
And everything was still a bet
In love's game
You would call; I'd call you back
And then I'd leave a message
On your answering machine

But right now everything is turning blue,
And right now the sun is trying to kill the moon,
And right now I wish I could follow you
To the shores of freedom,
Where no one lives

We're made out of blood and rust
Looking for someone to trust
Without a fight
I think that you came too soon
You're the honey and the moon
That lights up my night

But right now everything you want is wrong,
And right now all your dreams are waking up,
And right now I wish that I could follow you
To the shores of freedom
Where no one lives

I'se a scientismist!

Laptop Popsicle

You know, I seem to remember someone commenting a while back, about their new laptop, that it was so pretty and shiny that they just wanted to lick it.

That is exactly how I feel about our newest toy. God, my mouth waters when I look at it. How weird is that?

You have my word that this is our final major purchase this year. We were good, we saved some money, we bought some fun things, and now we can start adding to the savings again.

Now that I have this laptop to lick, I guess we'll be able to save some money on food, too!

To Whom It May Concern

To the person who found my blog by asking yahoo how to put staples in a heavy duty stapler:

It was quite a coincidence that on the very day you were searching for this answer, I spent ten minutes struggling with the very same problem! Clearly neither of us are cut out to be office drones. I tried to ram a stick of staples into our heavy duty stapler for almost five minutes before realizing that the stapler was jammed, not broken. I felt very clever that I had mastered the subtle art of stapler diagnosis, un-jammed the stapler, and tested it out on a nearby stack of paper. When I shoved the handle of the stapler down, though, its spring-loaded backside was somehow propelled out and shot across the office, just missing its chance to wound a coworker who had walked away a few moments before.

This would seem to be final proof that the stapler was broken, but when I examined my sample stack of paper it was successfully bound with a heavy duty staple; so, I retrieved the spring-loaded portion and surreptitiously re-inserted it into the stapler, which now waits ominously in the file room, all primed to assault the next unsuspecting office drone. I sincerely hope it won't be you, yahoo-searcher!

To the person who was searching for a "cool aunt:"

Well, shucks, I guess that'd be me. And it's about to be "cool aunt x 2," because my sister will be giving birth to another little girl any day now. Last time I saw them, my sister's three-year-old was talking a lot about the "tiny little baby" on its way. She was also very interested in the fact that, "I was a tiny wittow baby, but now I'm not. Now Ehwlie is a tiny wittow baby."

I asked her, "Are you still tiny?"

"No!" she laughed.

"So are you big?" I said.

"No!" she laughed again.

Confused, I asked, "Well, what are you?"

She looked at me with wide, serious eyes and said matter-of-factly, "I'm Ruth the superhero."

I'm thinking if I have a superhero for a niece, my ticket to coolness is all ready to be stamped. See, I have it right here in my pocket. Wait, no, look! Don't run! I'm cool! Come see my ticket!

To the googler who also loves Thomas Voeckler:

Well, I saw him first. But hey! the Tour de France is less than a month away, right? I'm sure we're both looking forward to seeing that grim determined smile again!

To the Brazilian googling for "She can turn a drop of water into an ocean:"

I do believe you're the first person ever to find me by searching for the Dream Theater lyrics. Mr. Thel is a huge fan (why yes, we do own two full DVD's of live Dream Theater concert footage!), and I have to admit that I've been drawn into the love a little--enough so that I happily went with him to a Fates Warning / Dream Theater / Queensryche show at the Paramount here in Seattle a couple of years ago. Good times with the metalheads, good times.

To all the people around the world who are finding this blog through pictures on Google Images:

What on earth are you searching for that my silly pictures pop up? Alas, my referrer will not say. Teases.

To the seekers of "God beyond all names:"

I'm with you.

And to everyone who reads without commenting: I dare you to say hello. I double-dare you! No, I triple-dog-dare you to comment on this post.

Please? [whine]C'mon, I had cancer![/whine]

Summer?

Mr. Thel the accomplished carpenter (like Jesus, but with more swearing!) has headed south for a week or two to do some work on a friend's house down there. I am left here in the cold for the duration--literally in the cold, as it's barely fifty degrees this morning. My breath visibly steamed out into the chilly air this morning on my way to work, and I was all shivery when I got out of the shower. This seemed...unusual for June, even in Seattle. Beautiful Seattle.com vindicates this impression by noting that June's high temperatures for this year so far are about four degrees less than normal. Which doesn't sound like a big deal, but, you know, I could see my breath this morning! NOT normal.

Nevertheless, I went ahead and cut off all my hair last night. Now I am a superstar! With short hair! And a bachelorette for another week and a half! Boy, I'm really gonna live it up.

Just as soon as I can find my hat and a sweater.

Project Number One!

My first knitted item! The picture is blurry, and the knitting is mediocre, but it's done! I even got fancy and put some stripes of stocking stitch in there, as you can see (yes, they were done on purpose, although I didn't quite get them to match up like I'd expected...something happened and an extra stripe showed up without warning...) But "Baby Ehwly," as Ruth refers to her impending sister, will have a knitted drool-catcher/scarf when she arrives. Whether she likes it or not, it is ordained.

There's something very calming about sitting with a pair of needles in hand, slowly turning a ball of yarn into a garment. I can almost convince myself that all is right with the world: that my nation is not actually detaining, torturing, and killing innocent people without trial; that an increasingly large group of my fellow Americans don't fervently believe I'm a traitor (and thus, presumably, worthy of same detaining, torturing, and killing) just because I vote Democratic; that "Christians" aren't really bleating about how persecuted they are in America, vowing to take control of the reins of government and turn the U.S. into a blessedly theocratic Gilead ("where all the women are meek, all the men are good-looking, and beating children is average").

Granted, as soon as I look up from my lumpy scarf all those things cascade into view again. But as long as I'm holding the knitting, it all feels more manageable and worth fighting. I'm working on carrying that feeling with me, unspooling it from my solid ball of conviction and working it into something strong and wearable--not mere feeling, but action.

And in the meantime, I'm calming myself and turning yarn into something. Hey, even Emma Goldman started out working in a clothing factory.

Goals

One of my informal resolutions for 2005 was to learn how to knit. I've been crocheting for a few years, but knitting intimidated me. Two implements instead of one! Purling! Counting! It all seemed Too Hard for this bear of scattered brain.

About two weeks ago I picked up a knitting book at Powell's City of Books (aka the Heaven in which I'd like to spend any Eternity I encounter) in Portland. A beginner-level book, it had actual pictures of a person's hands and her knitting, instead of the stylized drawings I usually see. I bought knitting needles the next morning and over the course of the next week I successfully knitted my first garment, a scarf for my new niece (due one month from today).

It's not much to look at, and it's riddled with errors that I didn't yet know how to correct, but it all hangs together and I'm going to post a proud picture later. What's more, I've already started a light wrap for myself, using a lovely wool/mohair blend yarn I picked up at the yarn store down the street. The stitches are so large that it grows swiftly; I already have over three feet of it finished in just four evenings of work, and I can't wait to finish it and wear it this summer.

I like crossing goals off my list, and learning new skills. I'm a knitter now! And after next weekend, I'll be a canoe-er, too! I am so well-rounded.

Munchkins

At work, occasionally I hear the rapid beat of a child's feet pattering down the hallway toward my office. When I turn around, a three-year-old, briefly escaped from his caregiver, peers curiously in at me from the doorway.

Now, our first floor is set up so that you can make a loop from the front lobby, down the east hallway, through the kitchen and staff lounge, and up the west hallway back to the lobby. So this child darts up the west hallway, sees his mother coming toward him from the lobby, and turns away from her, running back toward my office. I step up the hallway a few steps to cut off his access to the kitchen and the endless loop. Crouching at his level, I half-spread my arms as he gallops full tilt toward me.

I was just trying to corral him for his mother, but his exuberant three-year-old mind sees a smiling adult with outstretched arms, and he opens his arms and launches himself at me for the hug he thinks I'm offering. We giggle together and I take his hand to lead him, not at all perturbed by this abrupt termination of his escape, back to his mother.

Those are the best moments in my day.

Bookshelf

When I sat down, after a full day of rearranging furniture, to write an ad to give away a bookshelf on craigslist.org, I got a little silly. But it worked--the bookshelf is already gone!

Half a score of years ago, in the blushing spring of my own youth, my parents bestowed upon me a brand-new laminated particle board bookshelf to spruce up my very first college dorm room. It was a modest bookshelf, at 39 1/2 inches high, but its depth of 9 1/4 inches and its width of 22 1/2 inches easily contained the shiny new texts of my college education.

Many springs have passed since then, and the bookshelf has travelled loyally to and fro, through many moves from dorm room to apartment, steadfastly holding its full share of books without complaint. Its service to me has left scant markings upon it which do not betray its years to the eye of an onlooker.

But now, dear friends, the bookshelf must leave me to make its own way in the wide world. It has my blessing in its travels. Welcome it into your home, and suffer not your cat to scratch upon it, and it will bear your books for long years as it has borne mine.

Go in peace, good shelf. Long shall thy name be praised from the lips of those that knew ye!

Foot It

I've become fond of taking a stroll on my lunch break, walking down to the market for a soda or a snack. With that in mind, I usually wear shoes that are comfortable to wear for a half-hour walk. This morning it was damp and foggy, and the weather forecast predicted showers and rain, so I wore my less comfortable heeled shoes for a change.

But now the sun is out, and it's gorgeous and warm outside, and yet I'm more or less stuck inside on my dainty heels. While I've walked to the store in these shoes before, my feet were always kind of annoyed with me afterward--and right now I have a wart on the ball of my foot that makes it uncomfortable to walk even in sneakers, and in these shoes it's almost impossible to walk any distance farther than, say, from my office to the front desk without feeling like every step is landing on a rusty nail. That excellent four-mile walk on Sunday really pissed off the wart, apparently, and it's been punishing me all week.

Stupid warty foot. Stupid pointy shoes. I feel like a grounded child. I'm going to go hobble around the block, anyway. Maybe I'll be back before the vengeful wart notices.