Start 'em young (then don't let them finish - it pisses them off.)

A couple of more days have passed. It’s time for an update.

My writing group meets on Tuesday nights at the bookstore. We spend about an hour talking about our various projects and brainstorming. Any editing we do is electronic during the week, so we don’t waste time arguing over commas or whatever. The meeting degenerates into a science fiction discussion pretty quickly, depending on what is new on TV or at the movies. We are all nerds, but we have a great time. 

I got out to my car to find the word “bitch” written in the dirt. This is a pretty regular occurrence. I didn’t notice it right away the first couple of times it happened, so I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I thought maybe it was some kids I’d run out of the coffee shop for stealing from the tip jar or something like that. But, a pattern began to emerge – it only happened on Tuesday nights when I arrived at the bookstore prior to my husband’s girlfriend leaving for the day. She works there, though I don’t know why, since she is dumb as a post and her manager thinks she is immature and irresponsible. I have thought about writing something on her car, but I refuse to sink to her level. I am also not going to tattle on her to my husband, because that’s just juvenile. In fact, I find myself egging her on a bit now by parking where she will have to pass my car to get to hers. The whole group thinks it is funny, and one or the other of the guys will watch out the window to catch her in the act – then we mock her a bit.

Tuesday night it snowed. I was really disappointed all day because the weather guy said it was going to snow. All we got all day long were a few tantalizing flakes, fat and slow, teasing us with the prospect of really good snowballs. At 2130 or so I checked out the window and nothing. I went to the bathroom and by the time I got back it was falling thick and heavy and there was at least a half an inch on the lawn. It was awesome. I opened all of the blinds and slept in the living room so I could watch it all night. When I shoveled the driveway in the morning, it was about eight inches. That was a workout! The city did a great job on the roads, though, and they were pretty clear. The kids even had to go to school. I’ll bet there were a lot of kids disappointed at losing out on that driveway shoveling money. I know there were some disappointed teachers shuffling in for a cup of coffee in the morning.

We ended up NOT going to Moab for mountain biking. We would have damaged the trails, if we could have even found them. I was kind of OK with that. We all hung out together making soup and drinking vodka until it was time for the ugly sweater party. I have an ugly sweater. It gets disqualified every year because it doesn’t look like a Christmas sweater, which is discriminatory. It never says “Ugly Christmas Sweater Party.” It is obscenely ugly, made more so because it is a legitimate sweater that people were supposed to keep in their wardrobe and wear as part of their regular sweater rotation. My mother-in-law gave it to me for our very first Christmas. It was the first proof of how much she didn’t like me. It is black with highlighter pink, yellow and green tulips and bunnies all over it. Everyone agrees that it is a supremely ugly sweater, but I get knocked out of the running every year by sweaters with reindeer or skating snowmen. There is a little political maneuvering going on, too, because the town historian always makes the top ten even though the red cardinals on pine trees are actually quite pretty. I will continue to wear my ugly sweater on principle and am gratified by the comments about how hideous it really is.

I went to the dentist this morning. Apparently, I have a lot of tartar. I have tartar friendly saliva. I don’t see what the big deal is, really. I get the tartar cleaned off. I brush my teeth. I am a forty three year old woman and I’ve never had any cavities in my permanent teeth, and I still have three baby teeth. That has to count for something. Still, I love the dentist – he is gentle and friendly. Going there is a joy and I am lucky to have such a good one.

old farts in a jar

I had a tiring day. My snow knee was screaming at me from the moment I woke up. It gave me a sense of having a limited amount of time, of something impending – not doom, just snow. I had that feeling of winter having finally arrived. Not a single flake has fallen yet, and it’s pretty late. However, we might wake up to snow – my knee is rarely wrong. 

I had a lot of things to do, but I put them aside for a last ride on my bike. I am supposed to go riding down in Moab on Wednesday, but the weather might put the kabosh on that. Today was probably my last chance for the season. It was freezing out there. I realize that although I do have the right clothing for skiing, I do not have the right clothing for riding in the cold.

The new tap room opened in town this weekend. It was awesome. They are going to make a coffee porter soon with coffee from our very own coffee shop - is that cooperation or what? My friends and I had the best time and we are going to go pretty much every weekend for the foreseeable future. Some of my husband’s coworkers and their significant others were there, and while we missed him, no one missed his girlfriend. They all agree that he traded down, which I found gratifying. His boss told me the same thing over the summer, but I thought the rest of them didn’t much like me. We went down and saw some live music after that. We pretty much had the place to ourselves, so we danced and danced until the guy didn’t feel like playing anymore. Then, we took him with us to Taco Bell. I haven’t been there for years. It was still awful, but somehow so very right after a lot of beer and dancing.

Yesterday was Gaudete Sunday – the pink candle on the Advent wreath. After work I went to church. Then, I made a nice dinner and ate it at the table. My husband’s weird superstitious Italian family believed that if you make a curse at the table on Gaudete Sunday, the angels will hear and it will come true. What I had to say is between me and the angels, but we had a long conversation.

every man has to find out for himself

I haven’t written here for a while – that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing, though. I had some deadlines to meet. I imagined I’d sit down today and catch up on all of the cool stuff I’ve done and thoughts I’ve had. However, I find myself captured by the news of a school shooting in Connecticut. I refuse to splash my impotent outrage all over facebook or twitter, as if such electronic expression is in any way beneficial. I think it gives people not in any way involved in the situation a false way of feeling like they’ve “done something.” It also seems to be so typical of our country today that some housewife in Colorado considers her opinion at all relevant. I labor under no illusions that anyone reads my blog. People are ranting about gun control and holding vigils before the families have even identified their dead. Taking away second amendment rights will not stop someone determined to kill. In China today a madman stabbed thirty people. McVey killed with a truck full of fertilizer and terrorists used planes. I am not saying that what happened today in Connecticut isn’t horrific; because it is – there is no way anyone who has not suffered the sudden loss of their child can understand what those parents are feeling. There is no way anyone who has not witnessed true carnage can understand what those first responders saw. At best most people can only express a limited sympathy or empathy for those involved. I sat and cried through the news coverage, but if I’m honest I cried because I imagined my own child in that school. I could feel the terror of running a mile to break through the police line and rush in to save her. Today was one of those rare days I was glad my husband wasn’t home watching me cry. He would have said something callous. He would have been irritated that such news interrupted his day. He would have mocked the people who were upset. He has probably already posted something shockingly inappropriate and insensitive on facebook – I will avoid checking and just wait until someone in town mentions it. I’ve debated with myself time and again whether he does it because he craves attention, even the negative kind, or if he actually believes other people like what he’s saying and agree with him. His girlfriend will probably laugh and egg him on. That seems to be the pattern. I guess she’s better for him in that way.

he was too thin and too blond

I like to watch the news, to know what’s going on in the world. I watched the news this evening as I rolled along on my rollers, improving my balance as the miles rolled by, without ever leaving my living room. I watched several different channels and was struck by one thing – the media is revising history. Today is the anniversary of the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Yes, I said it. I said what every news outlet failed to say. The JAPANESE bombed Pearl Harbor. Every report referred to “the bombing of Pearl Harbor” as if it were a natural disaster, an act of God, or that it spontaneously happened without a perpetrator.  The Japanese were never mentioned. I lived in Japan. I love the Japanese people, their culture, pretty much everything about them. I don’t hold the people of Japan today responsible for World War II. No one has a problem with castigating America for bombing Hiroshima, loudly and angrily. The USA is always the evil perpetrator and everyone forgets that the US didn’t start the war, just ended it. Germany has an easy out. Everyone distinguishes between Germans and Nazis. I understand the Japanese sort of saving face by ignoring that part of their history or wanting to forget they were capable of such things. But, the US was the country on the receiving end of the Pearl Harbor bombing. What is wrong with the mentioning who did it? Even if it is just so our children aren’t terrified by the thought that bombs could miraculously appear and fall on them.

Retro is in, right?

Yesterday was an awesome day. 

It was the final writing class of the semester, so that was a little sad. But, a few of the people I really like in the class and I are going to get together every other week, which is cool. Because (to mangle a line from Denise Levertov), it’s rare among worlds to find a paradise that is a kind of poem. It is a place to let tiny seeds of thoughts that have been languishing in the dusty corners of our minds and hearts finally get the chance to sprout and thrive.

I went to an afternoon potluck with my earth mother-y friends, chock full of goodies from our gardens and neighboring farms. I find I really like eating seasonal and local. I always did try to eat that way, but now it is almost exclusive. It seems to be a much more natural way to live. I know that my life is a lot slower now, with no one to take care of other than myself and my aging cat. And, that slowness allows me to be choosier about the details of my daily life. We did have fun at the potluck and the food was terrific.

Last night I attended a clinic on how to fix your bicycle chain while on the trail. It was for women only, so they didn’t have to feel self conscious about not knowing things. I had a good time and saw a lot of the ladies I know from the trails. The trainers were men, though, and I found one of them very intriguing. I tried to figure out exactly what I liked about him, his voice maybe or his kind eyes. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. I would date him if he asked me – I know I’m married. It’s complicated.

Today was a great day, too. I got a lot done around the house, and, more importantly, I got a short story written because I had a deadline. My daughter did a quick edit on it and … the editor loved it. Things move so much more quickly with computers and the internet. I am not sure that it is what is best for written language. I like the slow process of refining writing. I think technology is causing people to put out writing (just like I’m doing with this blog) that is substandard. Other people are getting used to reading it and think it is OK, just because it is what they’ve been exposed to. Now, we have poor editing in major bestsellers and no one seems to notice anymore. Anyway, I love the craft of writing.

Tonight was Pizza Pals. Maybe I’m a couple of sheets to the wind right now. But, it is the night I just cut loose – no classes, no meetings, just friends, food and fun. One of our members is depressed. He always has his ups and downs, but right now he’s on the outs because his roommate went home for the holidays. He’d gotten used to having someone around. We will all have to figure out ways to spend time with him so he’s not so lonely.