Weeding

The garden. My favorite place when the sun is hot and the breeze is cool. Nothing can rival the satisfaction of unearthing gnarled, twisted roots covered in soft dirt. Whether they're long and stringy coming out the ground like a buried fuse or thick and stalky making a glorious rip on the way out, roots—all of them—are my new favorite thing. Nothing but good things matter when my hands are covered in muddy, squishy, wormy dirt. My only tangible reward is a pile of roots and a sweaty back. But as far as the stuff I can't see and feel, the part of me on the inside that squirms with childish delight, my compensation seems to be the ability to laugh easily and enjoy little things. Things like a four year old asking “What's Mexico?” and “Do spies have swords or not?” Or emails from a freezing young man witnessing the largest sculpted Lenin head in the world.

So from a person not in any position to give any sort of advice, here's my new theory on obtaining happiness: Go weed a garden. You never know what sort of things will begin to make your insides ridiculously content.

Sitting Waiting Wishing

I've been wracking my brain, trying to remember if someone has already alluded to this song here on a Thursday. I can't find any record of it, so if I am a copy cat, please forgive me.

I literally spent all day in the waiting room of the ER today. I was asked to take a sick co-worker to the hospital (the closest form of any medical treatment center around), and though we arrived at 11:15, we didn't leave until 4:00. And they didn't call Mr. Sick Andinfirm into the back until 3:00.

So on my way home, I had this song stuck in my head, and decided to make it fit. Enjoy! (And my deepest apologies to Mr. Jack Johnson, for tarnishing such a brilliant piece of lyrical genius.)

Well I was sitting waiting wishing
You believed in quick admission
Then maybe you’d see the signs
This coughing/hacking isn’t cool
And to make him wait is just really cruel
And this waiting room is starting to look too small

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?

I try to read the book I brought
But the soaps are on and it’s just too hot
Putting up with this isn’t worth the treats in the ‘burban
And maybe you’re swamped like you say you be
But there’s no one here
So it’s hard see
That you’re not just making us wait because you can

I can’t always be waiting, waiting on you
I can’t always be playing, playing your fool

I’m waiting here now
And so patiently
Won’t you please let him in
And stop his coughing?
Keep building us up, then sitting us down
Well I’m already down
Just wait a minute
Just sitting, waiting
Just wait a minute
Just sitting, waiting

Well if I was in your position
I’d get this boy a quick admission
I’d wonder why it’d taken me so long
But goodness knows that I’m not you
And if I was, I wouldn’t be so cruel
‘Cause waiting on docs ain’t so easy to do

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?
No I can’t always be waiting, waiting on you
I can’t always be playing, playing your fool

Fool.

There is Sunshine

I love, love, love, love, love, love a sunny day!

OK.

I love rainy days, too.

But today, I love, love, love, love, love, love the sunny day!!!!

Shameless Plug

From the resident sick and unemployed--fill out your 2010 census and help un-unemploy thousands across the nation!

Calling someone to sing this to me!

How can I love something so much, and hate it, too?

By the way, listening is better than watching this--in my opinion. For further opinions, you can read my full spoiler review here.

And that's what my Thursday has been.

Queued

So I joined Netflix. Finally. It's really hard--cancel that, it's impossible--to find a place to rent movies around here. I have exhausted my movie collection (hard to believe, I know!) and even borrowed from my coworkers, but I was quickly running out of options. And when you live in a town populated by a mere 900 people, where everything closes at 7:30 and that "everything" consists of a handful of small restaurants and some art galleries, movies are kind of essential for sanity.

I got my first Netflix movie today - "The Brothers Bloom". I LOVE LOVE LOVE this movie.

But this comes with some guilt - actually, a lot of guilt. The movie contains quite a bit of language, a *cough* hospital gown, and a scene you have to skip entirely.

I HATE HATE HATE that they put that stuff in movies that would be sooooo good without it. I looked to see if I could get an edited version of the movie because I would love to have it in my collection, but so far, I have found nothing.

If you can get your hands on an edited copy, or if you are one of the lucky few with a DVD player that edits for you, I would give this movie a hearty recommendation. But if you don't fit into the categories listed above, I would advise caution.

Shame.

Getting to Know All About You

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp

This past week, I pretty much made my entire family take this test. And then I said to myself: "The readers (and writers) who celebrate the best day of the week should take this test too."
One rule--be completely honest.

Do it. You know you want to.

p.s. I'm an INFJ

p.p.s. This is my favorite place to read about the results: http://www.personalitypage.com/high-level.html

Seconds, Please!

The best thing about watching how many calories you eat

and being more conscious of how, what, when, etc of eating

means

that when you ask ahead of time to have half of your meal put in a box before bringing it out to you

it guarantees yummy Olive Garden food for the next day!

Never mind the rest of the chocolate cake that you polish off later that evening because it was definitely a need-chocolate day.

On the Road Again

Just enough time for a quick post today. I am on my way out the door and headed to Denver, CO for the Rocky Mountain Horse Expo! Wahoo!! I'm planning on attending some awesome classes, and famous peeps the like of Temple Grandin and Curt and Tammy Pate are going to be there! You can tell I'm excited by the number of superfluous exclamaition marks I'm using! YAAYYY!

I'll post pictures on Jest Kept Secret when I get back!

Peace!

Bigger than a Balrog

2:54 am Tuesday morning: The battle rages on. Armed with a shoe box and body spray, I lunge.
Miss. Duck. Retreat. Advance. Spray.

11:32 pm Thursday night: Stand-off.
The laundry basket and art book still strategically sealing-off the garbage can.
I can hear a faint buzzing.

I despise hornets.

"Well, Hurrah for [Me]"

I did it. I may have bombed my first toddler and preschool storytimes on Tuesday. But I did SO much better this morning! Yep. It's true. Thursdays are magical and amazing and wonderful.

Books I Have Stayed Up All Night Writing

It is 1:18 am, Thursday morning. My eyes hurt from staring at the computer screen, and I have a headache of epic proportions. I also used that phrase in twenty recruiting emails I sent this week, so if you’ve already read that phrase penned by my own hand, please ignore my recycling. I am far too tired and far too burnt out to come up with something more creative.

But this misery is the price I must pay for worldwide fame and fortune, I suppose. And if this is the only price, I think it just might be worth it. There’s always acetaminophen.

I am rambling. My thoughts don’t make sense even to me. I really should go to bed. Get some sleep. Nurse my aching brain.

I just thought that this was epic enough (there’s that silly word again) to make an early post for The Thursday Chronicles. As of 1:18 am, Thursday, March 04, 2010, the rough draft of The Last Daughter of Cair is finally finished.

And what a diamond in the rough it is. I can hardly wait to start the editing process, but I know it is going to be a long, hard process. The story may be complete now, but the words are in bad need of a facelift. And I’ll be honest, I was so ready to be able to say that I am finished with the rough draft that the final scene I wrote tonight—er, this morning—is really just some creatively penned notes about what happened/what was said. I can always flesh it out in the editing process, right?

I hate that word, “flesh”. In fact, I specifically avoided ever using it in my book.

But I digress.

Don’t worry. The last scene I wrote wasn’t the final scene of the book. I don’t write in order, see, so even though I did write the very end of the book tonight, I didn’t write it when my brain was already toast.

Toast? More like the charred remains that you find left in your toaster when the spring has busted and you forget that you have to pop it up yourself.

No, the final scene was very satisfying, actually. That’s what kept me up past midnight in the first place. I figured if I could write something that good at 12:00, I could write something that good at 1:00.

I’m generally wrong about these things, though.

Wow. I have just written 410 words about absolutely nothing of importance. Actually, scratch that. I have just written 409 words about absolutely nothing of importance. “Finished” is pretty important.

Pretty epic.