Tuppence A Bag

Basically I dislike when every time I open iTunes it pops up with a suggestion to download the latest ten-point-six-eight-point-thirty-six-point-seventy-three update. Or some number around there.

Basically I love when I can say "one more day" with a sigh of "I forgot time actually passes sometimes."

This morning I opened the shop. I started bringing the old sleds, Christmas decor, etcetera out to the porch. The shop is right next to a little river, bridge & mainly ornery ducks included. From across the river I heard a woman's voice calling to the birds. I turned, curious to see if she thought the birds would respond to her voice. They did. They all quacked and swam over to her. And she fed them.

It was like Mary Poppins all over again.

Also,

They're married now.

Tapestry

My last 1,440 minutes:

Chocolate mingling
Christmas light-finding
A welcomed 'hello'
Self-leveling cement
Carpet prep
A second nosebleed in a day
Verge of voice loss
Carpet prep
Acquainted disappointment
Outlet retrieving
Light fixture-fixing
Corduroy purchasing
Anticipating
Etcetera

Envelopes Are Grand,

But I find telephonic communication to be quite pleasant and rather acceptable.

4, 3, 2, 1

My throat will discontinue in its soreness. Before it amounts to anything severe.
I demand it.


I am a countdown type of person. I count down to everything in every way possible so as to partially understand the time process between now & later.

For instance,

"In one hour I will only have two hours of work left."

"Three weeks. Four Sundays. Nine work shifts. Give or take. Ish."

"In twenty-eight days, there will be four days until my birthday."

But apparently one cannot always count down to the arrival of envelope-encased messages. Unfortunately.

Sautee

My niece turned off the lights. I blinked. Shannon kept cooking in the dark.

Wed

This about sums up my day.

I'll post more photos after the continuing of events tomorrow.

Blue Skies

I can be pretty picky when it comes to covers. The music kind.

But I found this little cover today. Actually, like eight minutes ago. And I am kind of a fan. I like the original, and this version is swell.

Labels

She went to the store to buy a label machine
Then she came back and put a label on me.

The label said “clumsy”, “dumb”, and “mean”

On just one tiny label, but it was easily seen.

She went and placed labels on all in sight

And I saw what she saw, only seeing in one light.

I was surrounded by babies, by whiners and brats

Only noticing by the words on their shirts and their hats.

She went to the store and bought a label machine

Altering my thoughts; I only saw what she had seen.

Time Travel

I've been scrolling through Dallas Clayton's blog for a while, just reading his brain. I have found plenty of posts that I thought were quite relevant and clever, but this is one of the swellest things to think about. Partially because I frequently think about bringing people to the future.

But look through his website for a while. It makes me want to write a children's book. Like I've always thought could be fun.

From Before

I went national-parking with three of my sisters. Ten months ago. I posted a few and a few more pictures not long after the trip. Then I moved on with my photography and with blogging.

Fast forward to right now and I haven't much to say. I haven't photographed anything lately. But I felt like posting something for your eyes to pace over. So I did. Exhibit A is placed above.

Also, the third picture up is not a picture of wand-imitating. It's stick-racing on a bridge. You see whose goes under the bridge first, and I've done it since I was a small person.

And when I said "I haven't much to say," I really meant "I feel like I have a million thoughts inside of my head and you probably don't want me to start on a rampage; plus I wouldn't even know how to pretend like I'd know how to organize my thoughts into a coherent, normal, organized, and effective manner."

Then again, does that ever happen?

Stitious

What is my problem with drinking orange colored beverages that have gone bad?

And bloody noses?

And peeling my nail polish off before it sees the light of day?

Maybe '11/11/11 at 11:11' is mildly overused today, but I still made a wish. Even non-superstitious people can make wishes. ["I'm not superstitious, but I'm a little stitious."]

Last night I set three different alarms on my phone to wake me up. Each set to go off in two minute intervals. It was the most annoying idea I've ever come up with.


If you missed the 11^5 minute of the day, do yourself a favor and set an alarm & be a little stitious. You still have a minute.

Mailbox

Have I listened to "Postcards From Italy" four thousand times today? No, only six times that.

It was fitting, though. The anticipation leading up to the transferring of envelopes from a truck to a postage case outside. I stumbled out to the mailbox (I definitely need a more accurate prescription for these occasional-wear glasses) and subsequently threw the world a rock sign when I saw a little message waiting for me. Not quite a postcard, but perhaps better. Not quite from Italy, but from a place perhaps seemingly equal in distance. Inside I scampered and the eye-pacing began.

I quite enjoy postage.

Postcards

I was as ornery as a goose last night. And stressed. And stuff.

Then I listened to Pandora. Beirut's station.

The songs were nice, but my poultry-like orneriness was still there. And my stress. And stuff.

Then this familiar song came on,

And for some moments, I was content. Complacent. Relaxed.


Then I was reminded of this nice little piece of visual and melodious poetry.


A sidenote: The instrumental parts, especially in the last chunk of the song, are purely excellent and heart-squelching.

Distaste & Taste

I do not enjoy when I start cleaning my room and then I don't finish. Because then I never finish.

I do not enjoy when my impatience swallows me.

I do not enjoy when no matter how much I check off on my To Accomplish list, there's always a check mark I overlooked.

But mostly, I do not enjoy the space involved in distance, time, and otherwise.

But I do enjoy sweet rolls.

And I do enjoy milk.

In Formation

Meh to:

Long days
Messes
Anticipation
Money
Distance


Here's to:

Passing time
Skinny jeans
Sweaters
Wall collages
My rearranged bedroom
Paychecks
Shortened long days
Creamy Swiss cheese

Ballerina

Did I ever tell you that I used to be a ballerina?

Up until eighth grade, officially. Which I find odd, because thinking back to eighth grade, I feel like I am thinking back to childhood.

And ballethood seems like just a few hours ago.

I miss ballet. I can't pretend like I miss some of the classmates throughout the entire experience. But I miss ballet.

I miss a lot of significants right now. Namely my post-consumption of rotten orange juice esophagus. And my post-lifting 6 tons at work state. 

Among other things.

But I'll spare you the eye-pacing and brain storage, for now.