Well, yesterday was the start of the spring quarter and I have two research writing classes again… like last spring… and a pretty good schedule that I think might encourage me to get some writing, gardening, and exercising done as we wing our way towards my favorite season, which I feel certain is going to be gorgeous this year. Gorgeous, I tell you.

Speaking of which, I was just down in Austin for spring break, and the temperature was in the 80’s the whole time I was there, and we only had one day of rain, and all the wildflowers were blooming – bluebonnets, white prickly poppies, purple vetch, cactus flowers, and so forth. One day my mother and I took my grandparent’s car and rounded the hills to look at them all, and it was enough to take your breath away: deer and cattle, quite a number of goats and sheep, some small donkeys and large horses, and miles and miles of semi-arid lowland scrub, thin streams, and rolling bespeckled hills. If I didn’t know that 80 degrees in early spring gives way to 110 degrees in mid summer, I’d swear Austin was the utopic place to live.

One problem I did have with Austin though was actually with Texas… I’ve never seen such nationalism in my life, specifically Texas nationalism. Flags, bumper stickers (“Don’t fuck with Texas”), T-shirts, stickers, furniture with flags etched into the sides. I tried to think of any place I’ve been to before that was similarly decked out with reminders of statehood, and couldn’t think of one that came even remotely close. To me, it was quite scary – it seems pretty clear that Texas is Texas first and part of the U.S. or the wider world second, and it has no interest in listening to other people’s ideas or culture or political views or anything, not unlike a surly teenager or neo-nazi or religious jihadist. Maybe that is an incorrect impression, though, based on seeing a culture of tourism based entirely around cowboy attitude and one-liners. On the other hand, I don’t remember any of that as being true the last time I visited Texas, about ten years ago... Food for thought. I wonder if it has plans to secede? Heh.

Anyhow, the rest of Austin and the trip and the seeing of the grandparents was utterly marvelous. It was good to spend time with the folks, and I read my books like crazy and stretched out on the patio and collected sunshine vitamins.

The last day I was there I went out kayaking and fishing with my uncle, who had ventured down from Dallas. We got up moderately early, and met with an undulating sea of fog that burned off ten seconds after we hit the water. The water was extremely low in the river we were at (between two dams), and algae blooms were everywhere… so we didn’t catch much. Actually I didn’t so much as have a single nibble, but nevertheless enjoyed the endeavor, and the floating around, and the viewing turtles, kites, egrets, ducks and dolled-up children playing along the banks. Made me realize how much I need to do that kind of kayaking/fishing stuff more often! After all, I live five minutes away from a lake with fish, and I have a kayak, and there are fishing poles around… what the hell has been stopping me all these years!?

Speaking of which, I’ve decided to launch an operation to once again regain sexy. To locate the mojo. To impress the stars and comets. To get funky.

One of the pleasures of visiting Austin was seeing my buddy J and her husband F again. I haven’t seen F since their wedding, so it was really about time! I actually didn’t get to hang out with the two of them together, which feels a bit odd, but I did get to hang out twice with F and once with J before they succumbed to their independently jet-setting ways. J went off to book tour, and F went off to judge an inline skating competition… Yes, both of them are such hot stuff! Interestingly, talking to F in his car on the way over to my grandparents for bbq, I mentioned how tired I was of not being my excellently fit and trim self, and F knew what I was talking about and described it in an excellent fashion: you know, when you are walking down the street and catch a reflection of yourself, smile under your breath, and catch yourself thinking notttttt baaaaad!

Yes, precisely so! But it’s also about the mojo, the sexy, the sweet hot babe… which as everyone ought to know, is not just about the fit and trim. Actually, fit and trim is perhaps one of the least important aspects of sexy for me… well, no, that’s not accurate, but I’d place it no higher than the middle of the list of things I find sexy. And although I’m not sure everyone has the same concepts of sexy, and I certainly don’t think I have the same vision of sexy as those I’ve dated, I still have decided I should strive to exhibit more of the signs of sexy that I myself am attracted by:

If not fit and trim, then certainly active. God, active is hot. Someone who goes out and does shit, who knows how to shake a limb, or sneak out in the wee hours of the morning to jog or kick balls or swim or build or things like that. Someone who has a 1980s sweatband.

Not whiny. I’m kinda a fan of stoic. I strive after stoic, but am more like episodically stoic and frequently whiny as hell. The problem is that I have fairly consistent pain, and sometimes I feel singled out by god for that shit, being only a mere 35. However, perhaps the trick is to (a) work more with my excellent new naturopath to solve this problem, and (b) pain manage, and (c) stop the fucking whining, for heaven’s sake. And that goes for other dissatisfactions in my life too. By the way, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop whining here (Grannie!), because writing is not about sexy.

Writers and Writing. God, writing is sexy. Well, it’s not just the writing, it’s the having a project. I guess I find people with projects hot… and they can’t be projects that sit on the shelves (as mine seem to do lately), but projects that are actively being created – whether it is building a sauna (hot!), writing a story (sexy!), raising a child (rrrrwhrwrrrr!), teaching kids to make poems (hubba-hubba), or taking on the world (helllllo).

Dirt. What can I say, my ideal mate is probably a pig. Just kidding. Sorta. Anyhow, I really like people who can get in the dirt without needing to rush to the nearest faucet and lather themselves up with antibiotic soap. So, I find gardeners, sports freaks, and other grovelers sexy naughty beasts.

Generous of Laugh. There is nothing more gorgeous than a person with a gravelly, snurfy, explosive or enormous laugh. I’m pretty sure I could identify every person I’ve found sexy by their laugh alone; a recording, and I’d be like: oh, that’s SS or JS. I think I can sometimes become a goof simply because I’m angling to hear said sexy laughs. Mmmmmm, laughs.

Bulging Brains. Sigh. If I think about the number of people I find sexy who are arrogant asses with bulging brains, I start to despair. Why couldn’t I be more attracted to kindness or generosity? No, it’s bulging hot brains that are incessantly curious, learning, tackling obnoxiously intimidating founts of knowledge. Brains that want to know how to build natural waste water systems, solar generators, and complex theories of poetics. Brains that are busy plotting the salvation of the world while brushing teeth.

Annnnnnnd.....

Independence.
Dancers and Music Appreciators.
Sassy Hair, Interesting Teeth.
Tan, or Sweaty, or Wearers of Shorts or Old Man Pants.

Okay, now there are probably other attributes that I find sexy, but these are the ones that come to mind. So, of these, the only one I need not worry about honing as a personal attribute is the dirty part, or maybe the independent part. I am up to my needs in mud lately getting my garden started, and come in with all kinds of soil specimens swabbed across my face and under my nails. But I really need to work on active, fit and trim, not whiny, writing, laughing, dancing, sassying my hair, finding a tan or wearing old man pants, and bulging my brain a bit more.

I know that I am fully capable of all of those, as I have at some points of my life been extremely sexy (if I may say so, which I do).

But as F might put it, it’s been a long time since I’ve exchanged flirtatious glances with my reflection…

So I will be working on these skills, and will keep you up to date on the progress and strategies I develop along the way. Launchpoint: Bville. Launchdate: April. Launchgoal: Sexy MoFo.

***

So. Ahem. What else is going on then?

Well, spring quarter. Students seem fine.

I get my first set of chicks on Friday and will regale you with pictures of their perfection. I’ve got some of the names picked out, but if you have a particularly perfect chicken name that you’d like me to consider, just let me know. Also, I’ve decided that I’m going to have to build a chicken run, because while I was gone, all our dogs ganged up on a stray cat and ran it to ground, which really makes me think that loose chickens will probably be nothing more than an invitation for dog packing and feather maiming. So, I’ve started clearing ground…

(See picture to right)

I’ve also started clearing out my garden, which is pretty late as far as it goes, but it’s been so damn cold and wet here that I haven’t had an opportunity before. So, I’ve got to hustle, get a load of mushroom compost, and get a’planting soon. Right now, though, I’m just pulling out all the weeds and moss, of which there is plenty.

The rufus hummingbirds are back in the neighborhood, so it really must be spring.

I’m reading in Seattle, a week from this Friday. I haven’t yet written what I’m planning on reading, so yes, there is some panic involved. Regardless, I will go out on a limb and say: if you live in Seattle, you really should come!

Dammit. There was something else I meant to tell you ALL ABOUT, but I can’t remember it, and am now thinking about the reading I haven’t written, and so will probably go do that (or procrastinate).