The Awe-Manac 3.25.11

I purchased the Awe-manac by Jill Badonsky a year and a half ago.

Then it got boxed and put in storage where it spent it's days in darkness sandwiched between "Carrots Love Tomatoes" and "Proust and the Squid". Now that I'm gradually moving in to Holly House, I'm going through boxes and deciding what to do with all of my things. It's been so long since I've seen some of my stuff that opening each box is like opening presents on Christmas morning... only with more spiders.

I'm lacking in inspiration today so I pulled the Awe-manac out of the stack and decided to use whatever I came across under the March 25th entry as a journal prompt.

Did you know that today is the birthday of Pierre-Auguste Renoir and George Harrison?

The Journal Juju entry in the Awe-manac today: Renoir said, "An artist, under pain of oblivion, must have confidence in himself, and listen only to his real master: Nature." Let nature write you a letter encouraging your confidence. What might the trees, the wind, or the waterfall say? Journal amidst nature.

Hmmm.... here's what I think nature would say to me.

Dear Holly,

Where the f*** have you BEEN? We used to hang out EVERY DAY, and now I'm lucky if you poke your head out once a month to see what the weather's like. What the hell, dude? Aren't we pals anymore?

Get your ass off the couch this spring and come visit, or I won't be held responsible for what happens during tornado season this year. That isn't a threat necessarily, but you'd be right if you thought it sounded like one.

Besides you're getting fat. I can help with that if you'll let me, and it's guaranteed to be more fun and interesting than getting on the treadmill and going round and round staring at the same boring scenery like a sad little hamster on his wheel.

You'll be healthier, too, if you didn't continue to re-breathe the same stale air in the office day after day. There's a reason when people go outside they say they are "getting some fresh air." Everyone knows fresh is better - except you, it seems. Maybe there's a reason why you keep getting headcolds this winter.

Whatever happened to the gardening that you were doing? That was some great one-on-one time. Last year I even encouraged you to get your garden started again (despite minor setback the previous year when the dogs dug a tunnel to the center of the earth starting in the new raised bed) by sprouting all the tomatoes and lettuce that had reseeded itself. I provided a bounty and it didn't even require any effort on your part!  

Instead you stared out the window, and sighed, and said it was too hot or too cold or blamed the dogs or there was a crap program on TV you had to watch or you were just too lazy to stir your ass to bother with it.

Seriously??

Get out here! Stop wishing you were someplace else, like New Zealand. (Yeah, that was me, so don't piss me off.) The weather is fine and I don't have any disasters planned for your area today. Tomorrow that may change, so make the most of today. You're not getting any younger or skinnier sitting there behind the glass.

Hugs, kisses, and fuzzy ducks, 

Ma Nature

It might not sound as though Nature is encouraging my confidence like the exercise intended, but I need the tough love approach.

Card O' The Day

Hmmm...

I don't like this card AT ALL, but it's the one I drew.

The 10 of Swords.

Meanings: The darkness before the dawn, backstabbing (obviously) and betrayal. The unpleasant end, but hey, at least it's over, right? Malicious gossip. Mental exhaustion to the point of physical harm, back injury, seriously blocked chakras.

This doesn't pertain to me directly, but rather an coworker that I work closely with whose mother passed away yesterday as a result of Alzheimer's. Sucky. Supa-sucky.

Flower Power

I love getting flowers.

I know some people would rather not receive them because they believe flowers are just a waste of money.

"Sure, they look pretty, but they just die. I would rather have something a little more permanent. Like a diamond," an office co-worker said to me earlier this week.

Not that I would turn down a diamond (what crazy person would turn down anything that goes sparkle?), but I think flowers are a wonderful gesture and every bit as lovely. I wish I got them every day.

Letter to the Girl in the Park

Dear Girl in the Park,

I saw you swinging again today. I've seen you twice before, always in the early morning on a Saturday. The park is deserted except for you. From a distance I can't tell how old you are. You look to be at least mid-20s, but it's hard to tell as I zip past on the road to a hot coffee destination. I assume that the battered grey sedan is yours. It's the only car in the parking lot, and you are the park's only inhabitant. I wonder if you chose this time of day because you know you'll be the only person in the park.

Alone with the birds. You're both on the wing.

When I've seen you before the weather was warmer, but today the snow lingers on the ground. As you swing, I think about how cold the wind must be whistling past your ears, bringing tears that stream back across your cheeks into your dark hair. You're catching some serious air. You're wearing a jacket, but you're not really dressed for the cold; no hat, no gloves, wearing brown flannel pajammer bottoms and wool clogs that look like they could be flung from your feet into the sky at any second as your toes stretch for the clouds.

Is this your version of a weekly therapy session? You don't seem angry or upset. You don't yank against the chains. You don't strain violently forward and backward attempting to break the bonds that hold you to the earth. In fact you seem... peaceful. Like the gull that hangs in the sky buoyed by the sea breeze beneath its broad wings. Effortless.

I hope you found what you were seeking, there in the park, swinging.

Cat is Not Woman's Best Friend. Not Anymore.

My cat has defected.

Seduced by tasty treats and a pair of personal door attendants who let him in and out of the house on demand, Beckett has now become my parent's pet.

At first, he was going to stay with mum and dad until Holly House was liveable. It was going to be like sending your kid to summer camp. He would stay a month, maybe two, and then when I came to pick him up there would be a touching reunion scene. I pictured us running toward each other through a feild of daisies to be tearfully reunited.

Then his move into the new domicile was delayed when the neighboring coyotes started to play the big bad wolf version of ding dong ditch.

(Seriously, guys. At first it was funny. Now the howling and screeching directly under my bedroom window at 2AM is just really annoying.)

After my closest neighbor told me his traumatizing mysterious-bloody-trail-of-guts-on-the-back-porch-and-the-wife's-missing-Yorkie horror story, I decided a fence must be installed or Beckett could become a hairy snack for the local pack. They have no problem snatching a pet in broad daylight. With no trees for him to take refuge in, even 17lbs. of pissed off polydactyl tom cat wouldn't stand a chance.

I have yet to come up with the $$$$.00 for the fence, and it might be a while since I decided a functioning kitchen might rank higher in importance than chain link. Beckett's summer camp experience was extended.

I've been visiting him regularly, but it wasn't enough to maintain his affection. Yesterday, he snubbed me. I got the cold shoulder from MY OWN PET. Actually, I got the brown starfish, which is the cat equivalent of the cold shoulder apparently. My mom and I were sitting on the couch (me on one end, her on the other) and Beckett jumped up on the back of the cushions, gave me a scornful glance, stuck his patootie right into my face and proceeded to bump his head against my mom to get her attention.

"He likes me best," she said, scratching under his chin.

Then my father, who has loathed anything in a catsuit his entire life, showed me their "new trick".

Holding a treat in his hand, my father yells at Beckett, "Who's yo' daddy?!"

Beckett puts a paw on my father's leg and says, "Yeeouw."

My father gives him the treat and says, "Dat's right!"

Dear. God.

Holly House - Winter Hazards

I think the big icicle in the middle is stalking me. It's waiting for an unsuspecting person (me) to pass beneath it then it will lunge, breaking free of the gutter to skewer its prey (also me). I have named it Stabby.

Stabby Sickle and Friends.

Pictured below is a fossilized frozen femur of a brontosaurus. Actually, it's a portion of a giant icicle that crashed down onto my A/C unit in the middle of the night with a noise that sounded like my home was being invaded by a gang of Abominable Snowmen. 

Even The Postman Had The Day Off

The weather is fit for neither man nor beast.

That does not include us expendable drones, obviously. So here I sit at work watching the Snowpocalypse from my office window and wondering if I'm going to have to hitch the sled dogs together to get home.

This is the view. That's the courtyard and adjoining wing of the building.

My car is one of the drifts in the parking lot.

My knight-in-shining-armor drives a backhoe.

Brrrrr. I hope his armor is warm.

Creative Tuesday 2.1.11

Mr. Toast's prompt for this week was Valentine.

I went with more of the martyred saint angle than the Hallmark angle on this one.

Check out the other submissions at Hot Toast and Tea.