n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Monday, July 13, 2009

pride parade story

July 09While I appreciated the tenor of SSS's suggestion (a la "please stop the ridiculous whining, for chrissakes"), I had a kind of breakthrough the night before Pride and realized that I wasn't actually obliged to do anything that made me miserable, even if I felt like I should, or that it might be fun given the right circumstance.

I feel a little guilty/wimpy, but my personalized parade consisted of sleeping in, getting up and having a cup of expresso while I wandered around my garden in my pajamas, then reading for awhile, then making myself a cheese fajita, inviting Herald onto the bed to play our favorite game--Smother the Dog, then reading (still in my pajamas) with Herald's head cuddling on my stomach, another cup of expresso, going to the movies with my mom (we saw the move Up, which made me cry in the first 30 minutes and then admire and laugh for the rest... it was fabulous), then coming home and watering mom's tomatoes (which I had repotted the day before), reading some more, eating dinner that consisted in part of the broccoli/peas harvested from my garden + potatoes from a friend's garden + blueberry pie with blueberries from mom's garden, watching another movie (this time a weird sci-fi with artsy camera work) then an episode of The Wire, then reading some more and falling asleep contentedly with the feeling that maybe I'm going to do something excellent soon.

I'm telling you, it was spiff, and perhaps the first throughly relaxing day I've had from top to bottom. The twitching in my right eyelid stopped for the whole day, and my garden time made my spleen settle more deeply into place (I could hear the squishing of organs as they rearranged in my body cavity. FYI: weed-pulling contentment + the twining of squash in their cages makes this kind of slurrrp/shhrp/grrrgl sound). Here are some more recent pictures of my babies (taken today):








Mom likes to say whenever I come from wandering around in my garden, "Feeling pretty smug, aren't you?" And the truth is yes, I feel pretty smug about the complete architectural perfection of my garden. Next garden I have, I'd probably swap out the broccoli in favor of potatoes, and plant more sugar-snaps (in more careful positions, as well), but that's pretty much all the difference.

In other news, mum has started hiring for the position I'm currently working at her clinic... I gave notice, since teaching in August is going to be tight (a 12-week course in 5-weeks). In a mere two days, 90 people applied, most with at least bachelor's degree. Considering that it's a laundry-folding job, I'm sayin' that it's clear the economy is hurting badly in these parts.

And my sister is back in Scotland. It was nice to have her around, regardless of the squabbles. And she and her nephew totally bonded:

JulyOh, by the way, A, here's the "indestructable pig" you got H, post-2.5 days with him. Poor pig had frostbite from yesturday's sudden cold... Herald had to amputate a leg for him:

JulyY whala, not much of a story. But still a nice weekend.


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