I’ve always been kind of afraid of thunderstorms. It’s one of those fears that is a little bit embarrassing to admit, because really, I am well aware that the thunderstorm can’t harm me, won’t likely kill me or anyone I love, and is really just a little bit of water combined with a little bit of noise, but nonetheless they leave me feeling unsettled. I think maybe this irrational, childish fear has its roots in the deep, rumbling thunder that used to echo spectacularly up and down the river valley in which our cottage was located when I was a kid, and the time I laid awake for an hour fervently praying for the thunder to stop, only to have my cat Mickey jump from the top level of our perpendicularly construction bunk beds directly onto my chest in the pitch dark, and then subsequently leave a dead mouse in my bed the next morning as what my instinct tells me must have been a peace offering (and one only a cat would find at all appropriate).
I think I’m in good company today, though. About an hour ago, the sky turned pitch black and rain started to fall in very large quantities of very fat drops, accompanied by the usual bass rumbles, and ever since then our dog has been sitting at attention under the protection of my desk, occasionally resting her chin on my thigh and giving me the Sad Eyes she reserves for when Something Is Seriously Wrong. It’s a little pathetic, and no amount of behind-the-ear-scratching seems to alleviate her need to hide from the scary thunder, and I’m having one of those frightening moments where I realize I can totally relate to the dog.
I’m a little too young to have ever really understood all the hype surrounding Michael Jackson (I was only 2 years old when he made that historic appearance on t.v. and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Thriller video in its entirety, although I’m embarrassed to admit I know most of the dance as a result of repeated viewings of 13 Going On 30) but nonetheless, you can count me among the huge numbers of people who have found him fascinating (if not also creepy & off-putting) and also among the huge numbers of people glued to CNN last night as they bought time while they figured out whether they really had been scooped by an entertainment blog and whether MJ really was, in fact, an ex pop singer, as it were. (more…)
I’m sitting right now in my office, and it’s a little gloomy outside, and more than a little rainy. I am supposed to be heading out in half an hour for a bike ride that I don’t think will actually happen, because biking in the rain at my beloved local Park o’ Controversy and Scandal will likely also mean biking in the company of large clouds of mosquitoes, which will leave me about as itchy and miserable as you’d expect (and perhaps even moreso). It’s a little dark in here, and even the pets have abandoned me, with the notable exception of the fat orange cat, who generally needs to be surgically removed from his chair at the end of the day on account of his prominent rump having adhered to the fabric in a most adorable yet entirely inconvenient fashion. (I swear, it’s almost like he melts a little. Little known fact: cats are actually liquid at room temperature.) (more…)
Yesterday, while we were at the mall in search of a pair of shoes that would make Mike look less like a hobo and more like an actuary, we passed a store window that was emblazoned with the word “recessionista”. Mike commented that he’d never heard that particular phrase before and that it was cheesy, and while I agreed that it was certainly cheesy, it surprised me a little that it was new to him since it has been showing up quite regularly around the internet these past few months (or, at very least, the estrogen-fuelled parts of the internet) in an attempt to make being thrifty somehow sexy. (more…)
Yesterday afternoon I drank Fortnum & Mason English Breakfast tea out of my Shakespeare mug, and yesterday evening I headed out to Chapters to pick up my newly arrived copy of a book written by the last child to grow up at Cawdor Castle because, as it turned out, yesterday was very much a British sort of day.
Today, however, I am having an existential crisis. I feel like I’ve spent the morning wandering around the house, wailing plaintively and wondering about who the heck I am and what the heck I’m supposed to be doing. Where do I want to go in life? Am I on the right path? Is it really true what they say about never wearing blue and green together?
To make matters even more confusing, there has been an upset of sorts in the order of my office. The black cat has been curled up all day in the chair that the orange cat has claimed as his own and in which he generally passes 8-10 hours every day sound asleep with his paws covering his face, while the black cat slumbers nearby in a shoebox that is much too small to contain his furry little body. The aforementioned orange cat (who has always hated the dog very much) is, at time of writing, curled up next to her on our bed, and all of this in spite of the fact that there are about half a dozen birds in the window outside my office, chirping exuberantly that they are willing and available to be Watched With Intensity.
As if that wasn’t enough, I made a smoothie this morning that had spinach in it. And it tasted good. A little too good, in fact.
I’m all discombobulated. Up is down, black is white, and so on and so forth. The only thing I know for sure is that some days it feels like I don’t know anything at all.