Empty your vases while you may, for roses may be calling

The other day I was walking from the post office toward home when a couple with a dog offered to sell me some elderly roses they'd almost certainly swiped from someone's yard. I happily paid a dollar & then even more happily declined to buy the woman a pack of cigarettes. The roses cheered up my house, while dropping their petals. I finally decided they were done. Good job, roses, I said, as I put them in the trash & washed the vase.

Then I went to the post office. (A common theme...) As I was leaving, the man who takes care of the grounds was out trimming the foliage. I made a u-turn to tell him what a good job he always does. For that, he said, you get a rose. 

It was a knockabout rose, he told me, which blooms all summer & is very fragrant. I offered the opportunity to many noses, including a bridal brigade which had just jumped off a brick wall as part of a photo shoot. I also made another u-turn near a new burger joint, where a woman's laugh & good energy had caught my attention. I told them why I had stopped & complimented her on her energy. She said I had no idea how important & timely my comment was, because it hadn't always been the case. She said she felt as if an angel had stopped by her table. I laughed & told her a friend of mine (Eric Heideman, in case he's reading this) had told me once that I was an angel in disguise. I'd told him it wasn't a very good disguise, was it?

But this isn't about little ole angelic me. This is about letting go of old bouquets when they've given up their fragrance. Wash your vases, my darlings. Be ready for the next bouquet.

Someone nominated my blog as a favorite on Grammarly, & I will take it with a grin, & perhaps chagrin. Are they saying YAY, way with words or, Sheesh, that girl could use Grammerly. Either way, I accept with a bow. Thank you, unknown nominator. Thank you, Grammarly. I even have a coffee date with Nick (no, not my Nick, the Grammarly Nick) in foggy San Francisco. (Yes, Nick, I accept, & will keep you apprised of my movements. When I approach your fair -- or foggy -- city you will be 5th or 6th to know. After Nick & Chloe & Luke & Rachel & Ellen & Debbie & -- well, you'll be in the top 10. Grin.)

I've since found out what the scoop is: Here's what you need to do to get your gift voucher: 

1. Paste the following text into the top of your next blog post: "I used Grammarly to grammar check this post, because [insert clever/funny reason here]." (e.g. "because time spent proofreading is time spent not writing!")

I had to regretfully tell the other Nick that I am an old school grammar girl. I cut my baby teeth on grammar & was happily diagramming sentences in 8th grade for Mr. Jackson. (The dreaded (by other students) red book...) So, I'd have to say "I didn't use Grammarly to grammar check this post, because I love grammar -- almost indecently. But if you don't love grammar as much as I do, you may want to give it a try. (Besides that, I like to mess with grammar -- put a blindfold on it & spin it around until it's dizzy & send it off to pin a dependent clause on the donkey. Grammar checkers would be thinking I was making a mistake when I was being clever. Or at least thinking I was...)"

So here I am, breaking the rules in 2 ways: Grammarly mentioned at the bottom of the post instead of the top & me not using it. C'est la vie. Grammarly has 3 million users, according to not-my-Nick, so I expect he's going to go broke buying all that coffee. I don't need a gift certificate anyway, although I won't turn one down if they decide rules were made to be broken by grammar girls.

A long post, I know. Time to bid adieu from Somewhere, Nebraska. Finally, a hotel with great outlets! One of those little hutchy desk things with outlets built in & also an outlet on the wall above the night stand, so one can plug in ones phone & ones computer & work from bed. Yay!

Blog alternative:

263. Empty a vase. This could be literal or metaphorical. What are you hanging on to that may be ready to be released? Make space for post office roses.

So much depends on the blue wheelbarrow

I should have put in a picture of my toenails. Why? Because Tuesday I had a spontaneous spa day. I already had a haircut scheduled & was planning to stop in at Tops to replace the shoes that I've literally blown out I've worn them so much. Then Satori (the young woman who lives downstairs) needed a ride to work -- it's walking distance, but she hadn't allowed quite enough time & would have had to run in her cute but impractical shoes. Instead of doing all of my several things by walking, I gave her a ride, did a few car-ish errands, reparked in my usual space & walked downtown.

Have you ever had a 3-minute shoe shopping expedition? I highly recommend it. I wore my blown out shoes into the store, showed one to the woman at the first counter. She directed me downstairs. I looked around for 2 seconds & decided to just flash the shoe as soon as the man in the pink shirt finished helping the woman next to me. "Alas," he said. "They don't make those any more -- but give me a minute." He came back with a single shoebox & I put on the Jambu Blossoms -- with stitching the perfect color for the dress I am wearing to Nick & Chloe's wedding (you may be familiar with it, as it is the same dress I wore to Zach & Tiffany's wedding) & danced out of the store in them. Not without paying a reasonable amount first.

Then, because the shoe shopping only took 3 minutes, I decided to see the Aveda salon where Satori works. So cool. She gave me a tour & I had a sudden urge to have a facial -- & then a sudden urge to add a pedicure. They were able to schedule me right after my haircut, which was on the next street. Even with a tour of L'eau de Vie, I got to Eclipse (my darling goddess stylist Casi!) early & they gave me a glass of wine while I was waiting.

New shoes, glass of wine, hair cut, pedicure, facial -- a girl can just swoon. Either that or walk home...

I would tell you to schedule a spontaneous spa day, but then it wouldn't be spontaneous, would it? So instead I will tell you to be open to the possibility of treating yourself as if you are the queen or king of your life. Soak your feet in a little tub of warm water & something that smells good -- even if you have to raid the spice cabinet. Oh, do a little olive oil & sugar rub. Mmmm.

I am in Somewhere, Kentucky, right now. Free wi-fi & a fridge & microwave. Now if only I had something to cook. I did the most brilliant job of packing my car ever. Snacks that stay in the car. Snacks that come into the hotel room. The suitcase, which stays in the car until I'm going to be somewhere for more than one night. (Which doesn't include Somewhere, Kentucky.) A canvas bag with a few clothes that do make it into the one night stopovers. You get the idea. I even put the ice in my cooler in little zipper bags & it was still mostly frozen so I just popped the bags into the little freezer compartment & will not have to refill them from the nearby ice machine.

I think I can fall asleep now, so I shall close, even though I have more to say. Another post...

Blog alternative:
262. Pick a body part & treat it well. Your feet, perhaps.

Dr. Who vs. the octopus

Monday was Memorial Day. (Nothing to do with this picture, which is just some construction stuff I thought looked cool.) Monday was also the day I found out one of my housemates almost died the day before.

He'd gone out for sushi with his girlfriend & decided to try octopus. Ate a bunch of it. Came home, ready to take a nap. His girlfriend wanted to watch Dr. Who, which he happily agreed to. They started watching & he was going to say something to her & he could barely talk. Then his lungs seized up. Fortunately he was able to throw up, but he hunched over, barely able to breathe. She got out her epi pen (she has a peanut allergy) & was poised to use it if he gave the go ahead. He dialed 9-1. After some time, he felt as if he was going to make it, which had not been the case.

Talking to a chef friend later, he found out that it was probably not an allergic reaction to the octopus, since he didn't get any swelling. It was probably bacterial, the result of mishandled food. Some bacteria can cause paralysis, so it's a good thing he puked it out of his system. If he'd gone to sleep, he wouldn't have woken up & none of us would have known why.

A wake-up call. How Dr. Who saved his life. He was ready to dial that last 1, conscious of the fact that if he had to, it would probably be too late. By the time the ambulance arrived...

Wow. We are all very glad it turned out the way it did -- that we didn't have such an up close & personal Memorial Day.

To completely change the subject, I took a walk downtown this evening to get my mail from the P.O.Box. (Wasn't really expecting any mail, so I wasn't disappointed to find only some balance transfer checks from Capital One. They've already been shredded.) Really, it was just an excuse to get out in beautiful evening temperature. In the City County Plaza, there were a bunch of tents set up for an event. I asked someone who looked as if he might know & he said it was the beer city festival. I expressed a bit of interest & asked how one got tickets & how much they cost. He said they were $40, but they were sold out. Then -- wait for it -- he said he had one ticket & asked if I wanted it. Wow! He told me to just go eat at his restaurant, Barley's Taproom, sometime. So sweet.

Tomorrow I'll walk over & have some beer & raise a glass to Barley's.

& now I shall get some sleep, in preparation for that heavy lifting.

Blog alternative:
Take an evening walk. Be ready for a miracle.

Ms. Pacman in the casino with a dumb phone

One of the necklaces that my friend Ken

(Hi, Ken!) was handing out at a World

Fantasy Convention some years ago.

I bought a new phone last month. Actually, I bought 2.

Tale of the first. I have (had, well, still have, because it is in my possession, though it has been decommissioned) an old smart phone with a battery that lasted about 5 minutes. It used to have a good battery but I think I partial-charged it a bit. Then I got a new battery & was very good about fully charging. Apparently it wasn't much of a battery to start with, so it quickly deteriorated. Rather than get another battery, I decided to get another phone.

Now, I didn't use the smart phone features. I don't text, unless required to. I don't have a data plan. I can look things up & have the world at my fingertips when I'm at my laptop. I don't think I -- & perhaps most of us -- need that level of connectivity. It can interfere with a different sort of connectivity, which is to be in your own body, experiencing your own sensory input & feeling your own feelings.

I decided to take a baby step backwards with a new phone. Yes, a flip phone. (I know what you're thinking: do people still use those?) That lasted about a week, & then I dropped it once, from a not very great height & the back flew off & the battery flew out & I hied myself back to the AT&T store to pay the $35 restocking fee & get the flip phone's burly, robust, older brother.

Lest you be mocking me, I find that it is actually quicker to navigate on the dumb phone. (Think shortcut keys rather than drop-down menus.) I love my phone, & it's water resistant & shock resistant. Take that, Android. Kiss my grits, iPhone. Grin.

I had a lovely Mother's Day. Drove down to the casino at Cherokee & played in the Sunday tournament. Attendance was lighter than usual. I guess the "take your mother to the poker tournament" movement hasn't caught on yet. It was only a $60 buy-in, so I got to pay for it with the $75 I won at my cash game the previous Monday. I made the final table of 10. The top 3 or 4 were getting paid. Then, on the second hand of the final table, I was sitting in the big blind with 10 7 of diamonds. No raises, so I checked to see the flop. 8 9 Jack. I had flopped a straight! I put in a little "trapping" bet of $1000 to get some action. Everyone folded except this one guy who raised it to $2000. Excellent, I thought. He's probably got a Jack. I went all in. He called. I was ecstatic--until I saw that he had a Queen 10. He'd flopped the higher end of the straight. No Queen came, which would have given me a chopped pot. I went home with 10th place & a story. I couldn't have played the hand any differently. I laugh, thinking about my "trapping" move. It was like Ms. Pacman trying to trap one of the Doom guys who had a bazooka.

Blog alternative:
260. Turn off your smart phone for an hour or two. Or leave it home. Take a walk. Hug a tree. Pet a flower -- but not a bee.

Into the green heart of you

A few days ago I got a lovely email & have been savoring it. My poem is in several literature textbooks (check out YouTube even, to see student projects based on it) & I appreciate the feedback I get.


... I teach 9th & 10th grade English at a small school in Oklahoma.  I wanted to let you know that for the past few years, I've included your "Egg Horror Poem" in my poetry unit.  My students always love reading it.  Sometimes I ask students to choose a poet and then create a poster about that person.  They are to include biographical information, examples of the poet's work, and their own original poem created in the same style as their poet.  Each year when I've done this you are always chosen by someone as their "favorite," along with Emily Dickinson, Dorothy Parker, even Shakespeare.  I wish I'd had time to do the poster project this year, but unfortunately the year got away from us, but I did want to let you know how much we love your poem. I was happy to run across your website this morning (today was the day I introduced a new class of students to your poem) and thought I would let you know that your work is appreciated.  Thank you for sharing it with all of us.

Sincerely,

Kim Wallace
English I & II Teacher
Talihina High School

Thank you, Ms. Wallace, & all your wonderful students. If any of you ever want to take a picture of your poster & email it to me, I'd love to see it!

I have a new project -- to be revealed later -- that is enhancing ALL of my projects, even those that have been backburnered (read: sorely neglected).

Must get back to it -- & to this lovely day. Springtime in the mountains. Delicious.

Blog alternative: (For new readers, I believe in living ones life with less screen time & more green time.  By green, I of course mean getting out in nature, but also creating, experiencing, doing & being. I wish for all of us lots of me-ing & less checking up on anyone who isn't physically inhabiting our skin. Hence, a suggestion of something to do rather than reading blogs & facebook & such. Delivered, ironically, in a blog.)
259. Make a poster inspired by a poet or a poem.

The crow knows

As water flows uphill (grin) so May creeps into April's calendar spot, lurking just beyond the page, ready to pounce.

This is ridiculous, but then, it's late. I can be ridiculous. It could be my last chance to be ridiculous in April. (If you believe that, I have a nice little piece of waterfront property available. You can see it in the above photo.)

Such a lovely month, April. Come she will & go she will & even rain & snow she will. It's supposed to be warmish & sunny-ish this week though. Perhaps we can count that as May's influence.

Did I tell you I sent my novel out? The Secret Life of Suzuki England has been re-released into the wild. I'm sure the intrepid adventuress will let me know how it's going as soon as she can convince a friendly crow to deliver the message. Or maybe a black moth.

It's time to finish up the post but not give up the ghost. What a delightful day it was. Poker & a movie & good food & good work & conversation & exercise.

Blog alternative:
258. Drink some water. (But don't wet the bed.)

Delayed launch party

Announcing the release of Laurel 5.4

(Actual release date: 22 April 2013 -- we've been working a few bugs out. On the 22nd, she was locked INTO her house for several hours. On the 23rd, she made 3 trips to Lowes to get 2 working duplicate keys for the new lock. So this is only her second full day doing chosen activities. She seems to be functioning well. We'll keep you posted.)

Time to get ready to go to Ruth's Chris for a happy hour hamburger.

Blog alternative:
257. Work out a few bugs, in yourself or something around you.