Yesterday, during a run to storage and such, I managed to finally dig my iPod out from the frame of the seat of my car, yay! It's like a totally new thing! Can delete music off my phone now.
as of today:
Among other things. Because if the kid believes what her dad is saying is the truth, than it is the truth. and i need to let shit go. again. but, whatever. i tried. i tried every way i know, every way i could think of, and it wasn't enough, AGAIN. He can say that it isn't about me, but clearly, IT IS. In a month you changed life paths with someone you barely know. And threw me aside like a fucking kleenex. The one who fucking broke her spirit trying to make things right with your kid, with you, with the world she knew. And, apparently, World: THAT MEANS NOTHING.
Note to self:: it means nothing. Wait for people to cater to you, apparently, is the message here.
Total bullshit, but i will not be held hostage by social media, and watching people live some sort of crazy online lives. And posting senseless memes. I have brits to watch, winchesters to devour, so whatever.
Spending the day (monday, actually which i was called off on so i could work this weekend instead) wandering the city does not suck. Got business stuff done and made some staple purchases, coffee beans, a book, and the like. Sipping coffee outside a cafe is like Paris except I can unfortunately understand the pointless gossip of those around me. Have lost more of my own physical bulk as well, though still above fighting weight, but returning to regular walking is clearly making a big difference. Met Smitty for happy hour beer later in the afternoon, touching base with K2, Charles etc in the interim. Happy to not be a hermit. I like walking. I like living alone. I like not worrying about if someone loves me - knowing that people care: better. SG is off in the mountains for another week, his yearly trek with his father recharging and flyfishing. He called yesterday to say hi from a place he finally got cell service (though the whole goal is to be outside of those areas to begin with) but it was nice to hear his voice.
Oh. And there was this weird thing, when i ambled through Pike Place Market the other day, and arrived at Myrtle Edwards park (just past the craft shit) I turned and walked to cross the street and I swear to the mother of KevSecs that Shay, or a reasonable facsimile of him 10 years down the line was sitting dead center in front of me on the back of a bench. Had sunglasses on, staring right at me, no expression at all. The uh, "stoic" one. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my heart skipped a beat, and not in a happy "OOOH! YAY!" way, but in a "Holy. Shit." sort of way. Which is to say, exactly like the last time I ran into him on the way to work at Repro, and I was freshly married and living sober (hrm, sobriety doesn't always lend itself to clarity, one realizes on reflection, but I digress). That was a weird conversation then, and I had passed him on the street a week earlier before we actually came face to face and spoke that time.
Yes, yes, it's the Market; it could have been any number of Native Guys of a certain vintage, with sunglasses on, wearing the same cargo shorts. With that exact hair, and that exact build. I did 3 double takes, willed shit to evolve, and nothing happened, so I'm gonna assume it was, literally, a ghost, because the fourth time I swung my eyes around he had vanished, much as he often did, in that typical damn raven-y way that also ends up with sage appearing in my mailbox....and (holy shit!) flowers on doorsteps (two days in a row there were roses in the entry way of the building I live in, not on stems, but the whole flowers, set in a row on the front window ledge. First bright crimson ones and the second time a row of yellow ones); but I sat there for a half an hour just staring at the Elliot Bay, watching, listening, and feeling. It was good to have my cage rattled a little. Complacency breeds stupidity and self loathing for me, so to be engaged in the world seems to do wonders - newsflash!
Weird, and yet, exactly why I moved back. I have so much more ease in my being, trying to figure out new ways to look at old problems, wondering what might be possible. I am who I am. Before I have been scared, intimidated, sure no one would "get" me. Even recently, I let the lessons learned in Fresno fade, and it bit me in the ass. Clearly, growth is the preferred direction for me. Sometimes I grow slowly, and sometimes it's lightning fast. The rollercoaster analogy has never been more appropriate.
Now: I get me. You get what you get.
Monday, August 20, 2012
I broke down and gave into a craving for scones yesterday - we had fresh huckleberries in the house so I used those - they turned out amazing - like turbo blueberry scones. Everyone went crazy for them, which is always funny to me, as I thought the texture was a bit off - they were more like Suze's than mine - which would make sense as I used her technique for the first time, actually hand-incorporating the dairy into the mix and then the fruit rather than just using the mixer.
Anyway. They taste really great this morning with coffee & a clear blue sky out my window, all I need is a feral cat to swing by and growl plaintively....
IF YOU THINK DRIVING TO A MEDIOCRE CHICKEN SANDWICH JOINT AND PAYING MONEY TO SHOVE FRIED BULLSHIT INTO YOUR HATE HOLE IS THE BEST WAY TO ESPOUSE THE CHRISTIAN VALUES YOU CLAIM TO ADHERE TO THEN I HOPE YOU GET THE MILLIONAIRE MORMON PRESIDENT YOU DESERVE. (via animalstalkinginallcaps.tumblr.com)
In breaking news, I have successfully removed the safety latch from my 12th floor window so that I might better enjoy the view of the Sound and also, the sounds of the View. Also, I could now drop small mammals out of it as well. Not that I would, mind you, but I could.
Also, this is pretty delightful :
Though I'm not totally sold on the dark bands on the new kit, but whatever, TV could be wearing a Snuggie and the skipper's band and it would be fine. RVP and Song are gone, which again means the loss of a great song ("Alex Dimitri Sonnnng Billlllong") and, well; a tall Dutch goalscoring machine who admittedly deserves to win at least one trophy before he retires, having been jacked for pretty much everything else in his career. (Though a not-so-secret part of me does hope his chocolate leg makes an appearance for Fergie this year)
So far my fantasy team is tanking in points my hesitancy to choose Nasri in particular botched it for me. Little bastard, scoring in the first game. Ah well, I'll tweak it next week. I'm mid-table in all leagues.
Also, there's still Arshavin. Let the Russian pagehits continue!
