There are a handful of musical artists who epitomize my childhood. The singers and albums that defined my teenage years. The ones whose voice can instantly transport you to that time, like it was just yesterday.
For me, that short list includes names like the police, the cure, husker du, sinead o’connor, berlin, til tuesday. The songs, the voices, they are like old friends who always know just the right thing to say to make you smile, who remember what you were like when you were younger, more idealistic.
Imagine my delight when I was reintroduced to one of these old friends with whom I’d lost touch. The moment her voice drifted from the speakers to my waiting ears was like running into one of those old friends who you’d lost touch with, and finding that friendship, that connection is still going strong even after all this time. It’s comforting, yet unsettling a little bit. Much like going home and finding your parents have kept your room exactly like you left it after years have passed…
Ok all you garden-y types. Time for a long overdue Eternal Project Update.
Yes yes, it’s been awhile since I’ve updated you on the goings-on in my never ending backyard improvement project. I’ve been remiss. Lax in my duties. Being slackerific. Seriously though, I’ve been busy.
Mind you, that isn’t to say I’ve been slacking off on the Eternal Project itself! Oh no no no my dear flora-nistas. I’ve been a busy little beaver in my bustling backyard, I have! I’ve been growing lots n lots of stuff of the green leafy chlorophyll-filled CO2-mitigating variety. And I now have a lovely little patio set, so I can actually sit at a TABLE and, like, work and stuff. Or read. Or surf the interwebs. At a TABLE. OUT SIDE. Amazing! I’m still trying to decide which big project I’m going to tackle this year. Last year was the fire pit (which got some great use this past weekend!). The year before that was pouring the patio. This year, I’m toying with the idea of some planting, some wall building, and perhaps a stone-paved hammock nook, complete with hammock-level shelf for drink storage. Ahh, the lazy days of summer. Bring it.
The Lilacs:
Lilacs smelled AMAZING. I wanted to snort them like cocaine.
The Salad Garden:
So I had this goal to 1. eat way more salad and 2. never buy salad from the store this summer. Ergo, salad garden.
BEFORE.
NOW
The First Salad!
MY VERY FIRST ROSE BLOOM FROM MY VERY FIRST ROSE BUSH
I think the picture speaks for itself.
I live in Portland. Isn't there an ordinance that says all PDX residents must have at least one rose bush? I'm just doing my civic duty.
Bamboo…
is finally growing. At an approximate velocity of 5.3 feet a day (roughly, compounded). Help me.
Apparently I’ve invited vampires into my life. Not the blood sucking, Nosferatu-ian undead creepy kind, but the time sucking, caffeine-endorsed kind. And not just invited, but welcomed, sat on the couch and chit chatted, made them tea and crumpets, handed over my calendar, and flirted with their buddy Mental Overload.
Yeah, I’m busy. I keep telling people that, and they give me the “right, sure, you’re ‘busy’…” look. The look I give to people when they say they’re really busy. The look that says you really ought to learn to say no.
Look, I have no problem saying no. No problem at all. My problem is I’ve already said no to everything I don’t really want to do, or that I feel doesn’t need me. What’s left is all the stuff that I don’t want to say no to, or simply can’t. And that really really sucks, because, well, I don’t want to say no to all this stuff. I’m pretty spoiled, you know. I usually get what I want if I have any control over it. And all this stuff is all stuff I want to do.
I just thought you all should know, for the record, that when I say I’m busy…I really really mean it. Especially this month. This month is a perfect storm of busy.
But I will always have time for you, interwebs. You and a select few…I will always have time for you.
A very very bad thing happened to me last night. A gruesome, bone-chilling thing.
Allow me to set the scene.
One of the things I love about my house is warm nights on my front porch. Sitting in my low lawn chair with a tasty drink, watching the ebb and flow of the night take hold of my little neighborhood, I can feel the knots in my head and heart loosen, the constrictions ease.
Last night was the first time it was warm enough for me to partake in this little ritual of mine. I sat on my porch with my trusty little pooch (No, I don’t want to play frisbee. No, I don’t want to play fetch. No, I don’t want to play frisbee…etc). Tasty drink in hand, my own little summer concoction of OJ, Malibu and 7-up (very refreshing!), I settled in to watch the night slowly creep down my street. Little did I realize, I would soon be coming face to face with something so horrible, so terrible…dare I go on? Dare I retell this story?
I do.
As usual, I finally gave in to my pup’s insistence that I play with her. (Really, it’s not hard. I’m such a pushover for that dog.) I step off the porch, over to the grass to play with her. That’s when it happened.
I stepped on something.
Did I not mention I was barefoot? Yeah, barefoot. And I stepped on something. Squishy. Gooey. Slimy.
And then…the horrible part happened. Even now, the thought gives me chills.
Whatever I stepped on, whatever gooey slimy squishy nasty thing it was…moved.
On my bare foot.
Squishy gooey nasty slimy MOVING thing*. ON MY BARE FOOT.
Of course, my first instinct was what any sensible girl would do: Start leaping about screaming bloody carnage-drenched murder while frantically sandpapering my foot with gravel and rocks and dirt and …probably actual sandpaper too. Yeah, it was that bad. But not me, my friends. Not me.
Because I have a mental constitution of IRON. I am IRON BRAINED GIRL. I keep cool under pressure. I don’t sweat. I don’t break down.
All that breaking down, freaking out, crying panicking overreacting girly stuff – I just save it up for later.
(What? Sheesh I’m only human!)
What I did do, is instead of all that ZOMG THAT IS SO GROSS EWW EWW EWW EWW that my brain starting queueing up, instead of that I said this:
“lalallalalalalalalalala that didn’t just happen that didn’t just happen lalalalalalalalalala i’m just gonna calmly scrape my foot on this here welcome mat that feels like sandpaper LALALALALALALALALAAAAAA”.
And then I went back inside and took a shower. And finished my drink. And attempted to completely erase the memory of that gooey slimy squishy MOVING thing on my foot.
I am a rock of mental fortitude.
*Ok you and I both know it was a slug. In fact, I’ve been finding them lurking by that area since it’s close to the garage, where my cat’s food is. I’ve even found a couple of them in her food bowl, chowing down. FYI: I’ve never been a big fan of slugs, but now….now I hate them just that much more.
I have very important news to tell you, interwebs. You best sit down.
Sitting?
Ok.
So, I tend to scoff at screaming squealy fangirl/fanboi displays. And when I say tend to, I mean seriously people, have some dignity, would you? Just because someone has achieved success in music or film, doesn’t mean they are any better a person that you or I. Assuming you and I aren’t serial killers or pedophiles or psychotic lunatics, of course.
(Damn. Now I’m gonna get google hits for pedophiles and serial killers. One can never win this google war, fer fuck’s sake.)
Now, mind you, I have my favorite public figures. And as you may or may not know, one of the people on top of that list is Sarah McLachlan. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her? Once or twice? No? Lies! You OBVIOUSLY never read my blog, EVER.
Yes, so I’m a big Sarah fangirl. I think she’s not only talented, and driven, but she gives of herself and goes out of her way to help women and children and puppies and kittens. You’ve seen the ASPCA/BCSPCA spot she did? Yeah, I get teary EVERY TIME, dammit. Hello, manipulation…. But I don’t get swoony-all-over-shit-and-be-generally-pathetic when she comes to town. Oh no sirree. I buy my ticket, and bask in her awesomeness, frame my ticket stubs, travel to Vancouver BC just to visit the Nettwerk Records offices, and nearly get kicked out of places for taking a bajillion pictures of her.
No, because I’m an amateur PHOTOGRAPHER. Get your mind outta the gutter, interwebs. Just cause I mentioned …oh never mind. And hey, there’s lots of great bands on the Nettwerk label. Like…um…hmm…like….huh.
No no really, I kid. Like Ladytron, Guster, BNL, Jars of Clay, Manufacture, Delerium, Severed Heads, Skinny Puppy, etc to name a few that I like off the top of my head.
So of course I’m on Sarah lists, and I get Sarah notifications. And because of this, I have news, interwebs. NEWS OF THE GREATEST IMPORT. If any of these apply to you:
1. You like Sarah Mchlachlan
2. Enjoy indie women’s music
3. Think girl rockers kick ass
Then hold on to your hats, interwebs. Sit down. Take a deep breath.
Yes, Lilith Fair, the paragon of women’s music festivals, will be hitting the tour maps in 2010. Last time, I followed it for three days, from Portland to the Gorge and back. Three days of Erica Badu, and Natalie Merchant, and Tara McLean (who gave me a free ticket to the portland date!), and K’s Choice and Suzanne Vega and The Pretenders and Dar Williams and Bonnie Raitt and and andand! It was three days of pure hedonistic drunken women’s music bliss. I can’t even imagine who will be on the bill this time. Let the speculation begin! Plus, we all know that Portland has traditionally been one of , if not THE first stops, because Sarah loves Portland. I know, she told me. There was this dream, and…
*cough*
Never mind.
Now I’m not saying I’m gonna get all squealy and screamy and stuff…But when I heard this news of awesomeness I did let out a huge SQUEEEE!! of happiness. In the privacy of my own home. Where no one can see me.
One of my favorite things about website stats tracking are the search terms that people use which somehow leads them to wind up on my blog. Is it fate that guides your little optical mouse to click that one search result of about 95,600,000 (0.09 seconds)? Destiny? Kismet perhaps? (WTF is kismet anyway? I suppose I could google it…)
I thought I’d take a moment to share some of the more…interesting…google searches which have ended on my little blog’s doorstep. I have not changed any of the formatting or spelling, with the exception of bolding the text. Enjoy.
SONGS of losing YOUR GRANDPA and replacing the love to a dog : Wow. That’s kinda sad. But you know, that has just GOT to be a country song. I’m afraid my blog was most likely of no help, since I pretty much can’t stand the majority of country music. I mean, there are exceptions, of course. I’m not completely twang-averse. But mainstream pop country…blech. Now, gimme some Be Good Tanyas…that’s not half bad.
portland : Well now. I’m all a-twitter (and really, what does that phrase mean now, with Twitter on the scene? I wonder) about the fact that Google searches for my dear Portland are winding up on my humble little slice of the interwebs. I hope I’m doing right by you, my dear town. P to the D to the X!
why lying is good : I’ve actually gotten this one several times. Lying is bad, interwebs! Bad bad bad! Not that I don’t do it, but I try not to, and really it just ends badly when you do! Trust me, I know. Unless, of course, you’re telling me how awesome I and/or my blog is. Then, by all means, LIE. Oh yeah, babe. Lie to me.
could : Um, honestly? Really? I just don’t see how this as a Google search could be of any use to anyone. I mean really, how could it? (Did you see that there? I used the word could. Hah.) How many hits did you get? I’m sure the numbers would give a super action liquid cooled quad processor pause. And more importantly…how did my blog get on that list, and high enough that you’d click the link? Baffling. Truly, baffling.
how to survive a hanging : Ok people, we’ve gone over this before. I won’t ask why you’re trying to survive a hanging. But you know, unless you’ve got Billy the Kid or Zorro vested in your mortality, then I’m thinking your chances are not very good.
great : Yes, well, my blog is pretty dang great. I’ve always thought so. So nice to have confirmation. But again, much like the whole ‘could’ thing…really? What good is a google search for great?
Wait. Someone did a google search for ‘great’ and MY BLOG SHOWED UP. I hereby dub myself the Queen Of the Interwebs!! Bow before me!
taglents : WTF is a taglent?? And why is my blog coming up on Google searches for taglents?
<pause for quick googling>
Oooooh tag lents! as in tag: Lents, as in lents springwater corridor!
All is clear to me now, grasshopper. Google has shown the way with its awesome algorithms.
things to remember when it comes to knife safety : Uhh…I know I was a girl scout camp counselor and stuff, but I’m probably not the best person to come to for knife safety. Basically, the pointy end doesn’t go into the other man, or anyone for that matter. Unless you’re a surgeon, I suppose. Or in a duel. Then, certainly, the pointy end goes into the other man.
speaking in tongues music and trees : I’ve read this phrase again and again and again. And then a couple more times. And this is what I get. Are you singing in tongues under trees? Are the trees speaking in tongues? Is there a song about speaking in tongues? With trees? I mean, I’m all about music and nature, dude, but the speaking in tongues thing?
I even googled the phrase. Talking Heads? But what’s with the trees?
So confused.
what happends when you put music by a fish : I’m just gonna go WAAAAY out on a limb here and say…Nothin.
Fear not, my brave answer-seeking interwebs! I will not let you down!
bamboo related injuries : Uh, bamboo is a….plant. That doesn’t move. And has no sharp bits. Unless of course you 1. use it to create some sort of pointy tool or 2. THE TRIFFIDS HAVE ARRIVED! I’m going with explanation 2. Ockham’s Razor be damned! RUN, INTERWEBS! RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!
Google me this, interwebs.