I've decided these random posts are my favorite.
So I didn't get a ton of questions on my blog post asking for questions. At first I was really embarrassed and almost deleted the post because I'm the human embodiment of the socially awkward penguin, but then I stopped being so weird and instead chose to take the question-pandering to Instagram. If you have any questions you'd like to see me awkwardly answer on a vlog, visit the post or my Instagram and ask away or risk making me crawl into a deep hole of social awkwardness. THAT'S ON YOU.
Amie's been here for almost a week and so far it's been really awesome. For those of you who don't already know the goal currently is to have Amie stay with us at least through September and perhaps October. A lot of people expressed concern that we'd get sick of each other or miss our personal space especially in such a tiny house, but we've made it work. Also, she's been washing the dishes and making me breakfast sammies whenever I want them. I'm thinking this arrangement will work out well for both of us. Robbie's due home (hopefully) the middle of next week and I think he'll enjoy having her around too. I know Cypress does.
Speaking of my prodigal husband, he's been gone since August 25 and as of August 28 he was sent to a fire in Idaho that is smack dab in an area of no service. The separation is at least six times harder when I can't talk to him or text. I feel like maybe he was just some sort of figment of my imagination and that I actually live alone here in Santa Fe with my weird dog. Last Monday he got the chance to call from some sort of torture-device-cum-telephone which allowed him to connect a call for 3 minutes before automatically cutting him off. Basically it was the most unsatisfying conversation ever because I was trying to cram a week's worth of things into the call while still asking him how he was doing. FIRE SEASON IS SUCK, my friends. I can't wait until this shit is fucking over and I have my husband and my married life back.
Onto things that don't make me want to throw myself on the floor and cry like a petulant 3-year-old. After a recent post in which I vented semi-incoherently about writing I received a comment from my dear friend Nova suggesting I write some short stories. The idea has remained stuck in my head since then, in particular since I've never considered trying to write fiction because I always assumed I'd be terrible at it. Frankly, I figured my stories would be of the "it was a dark and stormy night" variety and they'd make everyone's heads explode and not in a good way. Talent be damned, I decided to give it a try, and after finally getting over my fear of actually setting "pen" to "paper" (read: keys to Microsoft Word) I word-vomited out about a quarter of a story. I have no idea where I'll go with it or what will happen to the protagonist (I'm literary!) but for now I'm just enjoying the actual crafting of sentences and story lines. Maybe I'll share a few here if I can tolerate the criticism. If you have any advice for me or would be willing to offer some light criticism (until I can handle the tougher stuff) please let me know!
Also, tonight in the lovely city of Santa Fe is Zozobra. This is an annual event started in 1924 in which around 50,000 people cram together together in a park and burn a giant marionette symbolizing "Old Man Gloom" and then celebrate Fiesta (a celebration of the Spanish retaking Santa Fe from the Pueblo Indians in the late 1600s in that lovely colonialist way). As an aside I'm pretty sure that was the most Pagan sentence ever written. Unfortunately inherent in the event is a celebration of Spanish domination here in Santa Fe which can leave the Native Americans a little understandably peeved. Apparently there is also a history of violence against Native Americans during Fiesta. Because of all this--and because I hate city parking, walking a mile from my parked car, and cramming into a field with 50,000 other people to watch a giant terrifying marionette get burned while people scream "BURN HIM" because I have a mild phobia of giant representations of small objects--Amie and I will be sitting comfortably at home watching "Archer" reruns...and maybe drinking a little to honor our shared Pagan history. If you want to watch a video of the 2007 Zozobra, click here, but be warned that if you're scared of clowns this will probably be terrifying. Also, Old Man Gloom fucking screams as they burn him and the whole crowd chants "BURN HIM!" In case that wasn't clear initially.
Other than that and plans for a new (and relatively spontaneous) tattoo, I'm just hanging out and about, relishing the beginning of fall and eagerly awaiting the return of my better (and more handsome) half. I miss the crap out of that guy, figuratively of course. I hope you are all having a wonderful--and if you're in the U.S., short--week.
Showing posts with label post about nothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label post about nothing. Show all posts
Thursday, September 6, 2012
A Post About Nothing for Your Thursday
Labels:
fire season,
marriage,
nothing,
post about nothing,
random,
Rob,
Santa Fe
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Yet Another Post About Nothing
You gotta love a post about nothing.
I've decided that more bloggers need to free-write. I'm kind of over the whole 'having to plan an entire post with readers in mind' thing. Maybe that's not new, though. Maybe no one else worries about that shit anymore. Wouldn't surprise me, because I'm usually behind on these things. And, well...everything, I guess.
It's 1:30am and I am wide the hell awake for some reason. You know how sometimes you try to sleep and your bed feels like the absolute least comfortable place you could be at that moment? THAT THING. I'm watching Eddie Izzard's "Circle" special on the Netflixes which is hilarious and I'm snuggled in Rob's Army poncho liner because the air conditioner makes my house too cold. Warmest thing in the world, that poncho liner, by the way.
I've had a busy couple of weekends which has been awesome-pants (totally going to try to get that phrase started) because Rob comes home tomorrow (or technically today I guess) and staying busy is what needs to happen (other parenthetical statement). I've been rained on and went swimming in Abiquiu Lake, got a new tattoo and drank a prickly pear margarita at a convention in Albuquerque, bought some local art in downtown Santa Fe, and checked out the Science Museum up in Los Alamos, where the Manhattan Project was based.
Funny thing about the Science Museum--it's run by the government since the Los Alamos lab is actually a national lab. We watched a video about the Manhattan Project that really awkwardly skipped past the whole, you know, bombs-dropping-and-killing-people thing and focused more on the awesome martini soirees the scientists held while their countrymen were fighting and dying in World War II. I mean why deal with the massive world-changing implications of your actions when you can just wear awesome '40s clothes and hairstyles and drink martinis, am I right?

I've decided that more bloggers need to free-write. I'm kind of over the whole 'having to plan an entire post with readers in mind' thing. Maybe that's not new, though. Maybe no one else worries about that shit anymore. Wouldn't surprise me, because I'm usually behind on these things. And, well...everything, I guess.
It's 1:30am and I am wide the hell awake for some reason. You know how sometimes you try to sleep and your bed feels like the absolute least comfortable place you could be at that moment? THAT THING. I'm watching Eddie Izzard's "Circle" special on the Netflixes which is hilarious and I'm snuggled in Rob's Army poncho liner because the air conditioner makes my house too cold. Warmest thing in the world, that poncho liner, by the way.
I've had a busy couple of weekends which has been awesome-pants (totally going to try to get that phrase started) because Rob comes home tomorrow (or technically today I guess) and staying busy is what needs to happen (other parenthetical statement). I've been rained on and went swimming in Abiquiu Lake, got a new tattoo and drank a prickly pear margarita at a convention in Albuquerque, bought some local art in downtown Santa Fe, and checked out the Science Museum up in Los Alamos, where the Manhattan Project was based.
Funny thing about the Science Museum--it's run by the government since the Los Alamos lab is actually a national lab. We watched a video about the Manhattan Project that really awkwardly skipped past the whole, you know, bombs-dropping-and-killing-people thing and focused more on the awesome martini soirees the scientists held while their countrymen were fighting and dying in World War II. I mean why deal with the massive world-changing implications of your actions when you can just wear awesome '40s clothes and hairstyles and drink martinis, am I right?
Forgive me for bringing up X-Files for the second time in my Posts About Nothing, but what on earth is Scully's deal?! Bitch has seen some crazy shit with her own eyes, and yet each episode when Mulder suggests that maybe, just maybe, some paranormal activity is responsible, and she acts all condescending and lame? I hate that "Mul-DER!" tone she has. HE'S ALWAYS RIGHT, why do you doubt him every single goddamn time?! Rob thinks that it's probably more pronounced to me because I'm watching them all in a row, but I think a girl has a right to expect some measure of continuity.
Can you tell I'm home alone a lot?
Oh hey, before I forget, my darling husband turns 27 today! He's officially in his late 20s, though he'd argue with me on that point if he wasn't all the way in Colorado. He should arrive home later which is great because he'll be just in time for birthday week.
Look, a rainbow!
Labels:
fire season,
nothing,
post about nothing,
tattoos,
trips
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