And lastly, this was a superfine summer meal we had. Freshly picked corn on the cob with a nine dollar sandwich made with bread from our local bakery "Red Fox Bakery", and grilled eggplant, pesto, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese. Oh my. So good. It's making me hungry right now.
It's such a relief to have pictures again. The main computer is still not fixed. The motherboard was fried and can't be easily fixed because it's a Dell and they have all kinds of proprietary issues. We've been debating how to proceed. We could have another computer built more cheaply, to replace this one, but we are leaning towards fixing what we have because this is a chance to not throw something away. Something I want to be more careful about in my life. It's so tempting to just start over with a computer, it can be cheaper, but overall, if we can just fix up what we have and throw away only 25% of it (the motherboard and the case for the hard drive both must be replaced apparently) then we're keeping more out of the landfill.
Anyway, Philip installed my camera software onto the laptop and now I can move on. I can update my
Etsy shop, and just as soon as I recall what my password is for my
flickr account I can update that too. It's such a relief. I know, I already said that.
IT'S SUCH A RELIEF!
So I folded six loads of laundry, even though I only washed four yesterday. That's because I had to fold the loads that had been sitting around collecting dust for days before even starting. All I got through were my back log of sheets and towels. I have a lot of
raggy towels I use for canning and drying the dog and other fun things like that. The hamper was full of them. Every sheet and comforter cover and towel in the house was in the hamper. So I have a whole extra day of laundry doing to do if I want to be completely caught up. Here's the thing: we have only a family of three and I can never keep up with my own laundry, how the hell do you larger families face such gargantuan piles of it? I know that I am a weak-ass when it comes to laundry so I'm hardly a person whose laundry skills you want to compare yourself to. Laundry has always been my downfall and I'm mostly alright with that.
It doesn't mean I don't keep trying though. I'm an excellent housewife in most ways, but we all have to have our dark areas, right? Except for you perfect people out there. Don't talk to me.
I had a nightmare last night. It was not one of the worst, thank goodness. I don't remember much of it except that there was a very bad man who must have had some keen evil powers because he was monitoring myself and two other women through a television we couldn't turn off. One of the women was pregnant and eating something
spinachy. But then we were all three eating something
spinachy. Then the bad man was in the room with us and I was hiding. That's all I remember. Spinach-baby-badman. Aren't nightmares fascinating?
Oh wait, and I costumed a bunch of people for some strange event but my old costuming partner Autumn was there and was scoffing at me and my work and it was all very stressful since I apparently have quite the inferiority complex. It was all somehow connected with my mom living in an apartment in the city.
My knee hurts today which is annoying. It's always got to be something, doesn't it? I can't decide if it would be wise to skip the gym today or not. I don't want to hurt my knee more but I need to not lose any momentum with the gym thing. I feel like I should not strain it today, that's what my gut says. At least my burn is scabbed up and healing well. (I hope you're not eating your breakfast right now.)
On the agenda: laundry, pesto making for the freezer, and salsa canning. Which means a trip out to my favorite farm. Which means locating the back road so I can avoid taking Highway 18 on my scooter except for about a quarter mile.
Do you ever think about all the ghosts that walk the highways? I was just suddenly remembering the old lady who died in a violent crash on that same stretch of highway last week. We were on the highway not long after the crash happened and had to take a detour to the farm because of it. Lisa E. and I were both pretty sure we saw fire on the road just before turning off. On our way back we saw the white car that was wrecked in the ditch, smashed like an insignificant pumpkin. What's amazing is that the old man who was driving it lived. But what an awful day. And to make it so far in life with a person, to be old together and then lose one of the pair in such a violent way. I can't help but wonder if the old man hasn't died now too? It's not uncommon for old folks to follow loved ones into the grave not long after being left solo.
It happened to Johnny Cash. When we heard that June had died, Philip and I both said we wouldn't be surprised if he followed her in the near future. Not three months later and he was dead too.
I don't know that I believe in ghosts, in a haunting kind of way. I guess I kind of do. Or at least I believe that spirits linger. Or at least leave some imprint or memory of themselves behind. I've felt them before. Maybe they were actually the spirits themselves, but I tend to think that what I have felt is the residue of their existence. Like a three dimensional photo. Sometimes I get the shivers walking through such imprints. I was just thinking about how many lives are lost on American freeways every single day. It's a phenomenal number. It's eerie to see how many crosses are set up to remember them on the sides of the road. I used to be haunted by those, especially because one of the first ones I saw was to commemorate a girl who went missing (last seen at that spot on the freeway that is marked in Rio Grand California) and (I think) later turned up dead.
So I wonder, if you were to clear all the cars from a stretch of freeway and achieve total silence, could you hear the spirits there? Would they be weeping? Screaming? Sometimes, (and this is one of those instances where it would be totally appropriate to remember that I am a freak), I feel like it's one of my main jobs in life to remember the dead. To speak for the voiceless. I see dead animals on the road, or crosses commemorating human life cut off, and I find myself speaking to them in a kind of mental undertone. Making a note that here was life. Here was the end of something beautiful. Remembered. It can be overwhelming though when in my head I start taking count of all the dead in the world. I write them letters. I send them notes.
My head is like a mailbox for the dead.
I haven't really said these things out loud before. Not in detail. You can totally understand how come one of my most frequent fantasies is to take a ten year vow of complete silence? Anyone who knows me knows that this would be absolutely IMPOSSIBLE. Which is perhaps why it is a particularly compelling fantasy. Isn't it always what is most unreachable that we reach for in our dream world? The flat chested poor girl wants triple D breasts, right? The nerdy guy who can't speak to girls wants to be the next James Bond, am I wrong?
This all reminds me of the music I was listening to while cleaning yesterday. My play list started with "The
Buena Vista Social Club" soundtrack, then I listened to "Ziggy Stardust", and finished the event off with
Roy Acuff singing one of my favorite all time songs "The Wreck On The Highway" which is all about whiskey and blood running together. It's also religious. Even though I am not religious, I love a lot of religious music.
Mahalia Jackson is a favorite, as are the old classical pieces written for the church or in celebration of Jesus like Handel's "Messiah". Another of my favorite songs is "Were You There" by
Johnny Cash which is all about being nailed to the cross and being shoved into a cave to die, you know how Jesus was entombed and then rose and all that jazzy jazz? These are very violent songs.
On a side note, I have been a huge Bowie fan since I was 13 years old when my mom insisted that I would love this guy. She bought his latest album "Modern Dance" on a trip we had made to Mill Valley and we listened to it all the way back up to
Ashland Oregon where we were living at the time. She told me when he would be appearing on MTV, which was relatively new at the time, and made sure I was up to see it. I totally fell for him and his music was the main soundtrack to my life for years. As I was listening to him yesterday I was amazed at just how many of his lyrics are completely loony. Yet I totally get them as do so many people. He evokes a feeling, he communicates something with drug addled words that somehow makes sense. How does he do that?
"You're squawking like a pink monkey bird" can only come from either a crazy person, or a crazy person on drugs. We know the answer to that one by now. It kept making me laugh, hearing these lyrics that I took so seriously when I was younger. His was a voice that spoke my language. Yet, I had never been exposed to, and would be surprised at being exposed to a pink monkey bird even now. I'm going to look that up...
Yeah, I think Bowie made that one up.
I will leave you with this sage piece of advice gleaned from the Ziggy Stardust album:
"Don't let the milk float ride your mind."
That's what I always say.
Pippa, stalking scraps and moths in the kitchen.
Feet. Not Philip's.
Tomatillos waiting to hit the stew pot. Think they smell the fear of the ones that just got cut and dumped?
The top of our town. Not technically a shot from the farmhouse.
Philip and Max enjoy chess in the morning.
All of these pictures are the first batch from my Rebel XT that I bought used from Mary at "Confessions Of A Craft Addict" several months ago and am still scared of. I am finally playing with it and Mary sent me this book to help me take better pictures...Thanks Mary!!!
Chick would like you to know that you should really give her that thing you're eating right now. She also would like to know why the chickens get all the scraps while she only gets the ones she steals?
