and I took a lot of pictures.


The best berry ever.

hiking converse

Trusty hiking/river shoes.

leaf and grass in water

orange leaf in river

towel totem

Towel totem.

wishie with reflections of light on water

Wish with reflections of light on water.

yellow leaf and rocks in river


the moon at the bottom of my smoothie

and a moon at the bottom of my smoothie.

mushrooms and snail goo

Mushroom and snail trail.

paper heart

Paper heart and dead fire.



wet leaf

Raindrop on leaftop.

funny car drags

To remind me that Jason does not believe I can make a functional derby car out of vegetables, because I have bet him that he is wrong.

Last night I went to a Secrets in the Salt show. I go every time vowing that I won’t write another blog about how much they rock, and every time I’ve got my little pen and paper out within ten minutes, scribbling furiously in my own illegible shorthand all the reasons I currently find them amazing.

The main thing to say about SS is that they will own your body. The lyrics can be dark and the emotions can be deep but your body will dance to the beat of its own accord. At one point Jason and I went out for a cigarette and at that time there was only one guy sitting at a table not dancing; we came back and even he was shaking it on the floor. I lit my cigarette and for a moment out of the corner of my eye I thought I’d lit the ashtray on fire; then I realized it was the reflection of the lights bouncing in my beer because that bass was just that sweet it was rocking the table. Also, Neil can whistle; Neil can whistle for an entire song, and that is not fair but it is really cool. I continue to tell it from the rooftops: listen to Secrets in the Salt, they know what you need to hear.

be huge

We urge you.

breakfast face

candle moon

Left on my plate by a candle.

eighties lucky

knate's face

Knate can make some good faces.

leopard print group memo

The day Holly and a customer were both wearing leopard print and I thought it was funny.

moon sidewalk chalk

Found in my Happy Meal.

The end.

It is not even ten am (although it is one minute away but for creative and exaggerative purposes we will say that it is not even) and I am already exhausted and slightly cranky. I did not sleep well last night. I came home from open mic with a massive swirl of face paint art on the right side of my face and was as sleepy as a bumblebee who’s found the Benadryl flower, and passed right out. I woke up with one of those disgusting jolts that mean you were just falling in your dreams and oh man you’re not actually falling and whew, that was close. And then sank into me with inescapable oppression, the fact that my room was hot enough to boil water in, good thing there wasn’t any water. So I crawled out to the living room and turned on the oscillating fan and lay on the couch for a while.  That is a hot damn couch; it is so long and stripey and sexy, and it holds heat like an insensitive mother fuck. So I got up and lay on the floor, where it was one degree cooler and much, much harder, and I think I maybe got a bit of sleep in. After some not long enough time I woke up with another one of those falling jolts, and I don’t know what was going on there at all; maybe I was Alice down the rabbit hole all night long. At any rate, the second falling bit happened around when the sun was beginning to pink the sky, and I have been more or less awake since then, although I tried, so very very hard, people, to go back to sleep. I have a nice busy day planned also, and now I am going to be kind of a sonofabitch to everyone because WAH not enough sleep. Fah.

In other cranky news, I really really want to quit smoking. I am tired of the taste and I despise the smell and I am so over waking up with aching lungs every time I smoke too many cigarettes over beers with friends. I have cut down decently, I really have, but there is just so much you can do when your friends all smoke and you still crave the nic and I will tell you one thing about gum: does not play well with beer. Today Jason is supposed to be checking out an electric cigarette, and hopefully the news will be good and fairly cheap and we will both begin smoking little vaporized nic sticks instead of burny smelly cigarettes that make our lungs hurt in the morning. And then maybe we will be able to just stop smoking everything, except things that are green. Ah, where there’s hope, there’s life.

I wish I had more interesting things to talk about than why I’m cranky, but my mind has been pretty much dominated by the advent of the Quickbooks Bible in my life. I have never been such a geek for software like this before; I have never been a geek for software at all, before. I guess it was just there at the right time, in the right place, and we looked into each other’s well organized little minds and fate did all the rest.. I am getting Quickbooks installed on my Urfer (laptop’s name) today, and then ohmygod I will be worse than Alain and Graham put together, I will never be peeled away from that thing; but I will be so happy! I will not need an intervention! I seriously told someone about the Quickbooks Bible last night for as long as they could go without their eyes rolling back in their head, and I wound up with an expansive arm wave and the words, ‘it’s the best book I’ve read in a log time!’ And then I laughed very hard at myself, because oh, dear. It’s true. I am in love with a computer program.

Ps. One thing about face paint; it will leave a nice purple stain on your whole face if you don’t wash it off before you go to bed. Did I know this? Yes. Did I do anything wise about it? No.

I am having a fabulous morning. The house is spotless, the coffee is strong but not like bitter black death, and I have eaten a large bowl of Marshmallow Mateys. Marshmallow Mateys are the generic equivalent of Lucky Charms, but with a parrot instead of a leprechaun. This is fine. I stood in front of the cupboard for about two seconds, wavering weakly between healthy cereal and marshmallow cereal. Even had I not already told you about my marshmallow cereal choice, I am sure you would have known the outcome of this wavering; I like to think you know me well enough to be sure that all my choices are clearly the right ones.

You know something about marshmallow cereal? Eating it as an adult is so much fucking better than eating it as a kid. When I was little we’d get ‘fancy’ (not cheerios) cereal about once a blue moon, and whenever we did that box lasted for eh ver, with Thad and I carefully rationing out just the smallest bits every morning. Ah, the sacred fancy cereal – whole nations have been treated with less respect than we paid those bowls of milk and brightly bobbing hearts and rainbows.  I had my own particular way of eating it, which was the exact opposite of Thad’s, and we both thought the other was crazy. I would, with painstaking care, eat all the cereal bits out of the bowl first; and woe unto the marshmallow bit that thought it could trick its way into my mouth early by clinging to the underside of the spoon. After all the cereal was gone, I could eat the marshmallows one by one (!) in order of my least favorite shape and color on up, saving the best for last. I’m pretty sure the rainbows were my favorite, and the red circles (how are red circles Irish?) were my least favorite.

Anyhow, today I sat on my balcony in Holly’s rocking chair and ate my Marshmallow Mateys and mused on the ways of the world and my pretty pony. (Points for obscure Stephen King reference; the fact that it’s one of his favorite self references? More points!) I came to the conclusion that sure being a kid had its perks, like being able to amuse myself by something as simple as spinning around till I felll on my face or smacked into something, (which I guess I do plenty of still, metaphorically), but I am pretty pleased to be an adult, if for no other reason than the fact that I can eat a bowl of marshmallow cereal without a four star three gun salute helluva SYSTEM, in under five minutes. Looking back, the main source of wonderment to me is, where did I find the fucking time?