monitorkitty

We are now the proud owners of *two* households in the Old Dominion.

We closed on the new house today, and may very well have a contract on the current one.

Life is good. I hope.

So over the weekend we took boxes over to the storage unit since we aren’t quite sure how the current furniture is going to fit into the new abode.

36 boxes of books later, we have a much better view of the situation. (this is distinctly better than the 54 boxes of books we had before we moved the last time…. Ye Olde Arte Museum was the beneficiary during that particular move).

This time we have pared down to the necessary volumes. At least that’s what I think we’ve done. I have attempted to label the boxes in some sort of logical fashion. I can say that we’re one of the few couples that can boast of one box labelled “Inquisition,” three boxes labelled “Maritime” (including one that is purely 17th century) and another box simply called “Crowley.”

So we should be moving for real next week. I’m not sure what kind of internet connection we’ll end up with – but it should prove to be interesting no matter what.

Did I mention that we will have a ghost?

Back in town for a bit it seems. And now we begin the very real process of packing and moving.

I did return from Vancouver – very much a fan of the place – and with a most interesting souvenir.

I finally got a tattoo.

From as far back as I can remember I wanted a tattoo. See, my dad has one and I grew up seeing it every day and when I was small I figured I would grow up to be just like him and thus a tattoo was required.

He got the tattoo right before he shipped out of Norfolk for the Pacific in World War II. It was his first time so far from home, he was barely 18, and he was headed into uncertainty.

That was 60 years ago.

Mine will never have the meaning that his has. Call it a small tribute, call it what you will. But I feel that much closer to my dad now.

So anyway – we did get to spend some time with the parental units during our annual pilgramage to the land of my birth and the juggernaut that is Merlefest. We discovered many fine new bands, saw some old favourites and drank some beer with The Chieftains in a steakhouse bar. No, really!

I also ran into my dear old friend David. He and I worked together at the record store for 7 years, and lived in the same house together (he had the upstairs apartment, I had the downstairs apartment) for a couple of years. It was purely happenstance that we ran into him and his daughter – but it made my week.

Sometimes you just don’t realize how much you miss someone…

Well – this is too brief an update, but I have to go pack more boxes and try to convince myself that I really don’t need the complete set of Froude’s History of England….

So.

Apparently yesterday was the most depressing day of the year.

I believe it.

The weather wasn’t too bad. Cold, yes. But not so bad. So it wasn’t that. But for whatever reason, yesterday was just awful. It was one of those days – that thankfully do not happen very often – where you just feel as though nothing you do is worth anything.

With apologies to Douglas Adams (may he not panic in peace) I’ve always referred to these as my ‘long dark teatimes of the soul.’

And they almost always happen in January, come to think of it.

So it pleases me no end to find out that not only has someone researched this phenomenon, but there is actually a mathematical formula for it – although very few of the values there seem to apply to me…

But still. There’s math involved, so it must be true. And I can say ‘It’s not me, it’s the math.’

Today has been quite lovely, by the way.

“…living near water,” she said,
“I’ve not yet gotten used to the idea.”
And in her eyes were reflected the greens and browns
of the midwest
with nary a trace
of eastern blues and mud.

And yet I think I’m at home now
in among the pine needles and deer
and the huge expanse of river
gleaming
golden blue at night.

One wonders why you leave
one place for another
what draws us here together
in the wind and the water so very far from the flats and hills
so very near the water.

Happy couple of days after Thanksgiving, y’all!

I hope that everyone out there had a lovely holiday and that the weekend continues to be a happy one. This time of year gives one pause to reflect on their blessings, and I hope everyone had a delicious time doing so.

It’s a holiday punctuated by friends. I’ve talked to or seen all of my bestest friends this week (starting on Sunday with Dublingirl and moving to Addie, Melody, Lexy, Anne Marie and Sara throughout the week), I’ve talked to or been in the presence of my family this week, and right now, my lovely Jim has his best friends downstairs listening to the JMU/Lehigh game whilst watching the UVA/Hokies game on the telly. The house is more clean than it has been in awhile, more folks are coming over later and much Thai food will be consumed at some point.

It’s purely wonderful.

But for me, I got one of the best Thanksgiving presents anyone could ask for.

Three tiny steps.

They were my nephew Jackson’s second set of steps (being only barely one, this is of course a monumental event).

Luckily – his first steps were to his daddy Bill, which is as it should be.

But his second set of steps – 1…2…3…were to me! I can’t tell you how awesome that was…that he decided to walk to his goofy auntie.

It made the holiday better than it already was.

It’s really the little things – the little stumbling fuzzy things – that make the holidays bright.

Here’s hoping small fuzzy things fall into everyone’s arms this season.

Sometimes you find strength hiding in the most unexpected places.

Tonight I saw such strength.

My former employee, my colleague, my friend…

Rhonda.

She is a phenomenal woman. Here is not the place to go into her life in detail. Let me just say that this sweet, quiet, shy (but only a little) woman is a paragon of strength and resolve.

Her love – a wonderful man by all accounts – passed away this weekend, quite unexpectedly.

Tonight I saw someone that I only hope I can be, if I’m called to be, someday.

If someone can be said to glow – to radiate – then surely that was Rhonda tonight.

I cannot imagine what she must be feeling right now. I hope I never have to.

But if I do – I hope I can be like Rhonda. I can think of no better way to be.

I’ve often thought that one needs a motto for each stage of their life. You know, something that you can look to – to measure your life by and make sure that you’re charting the right course, and whatnot.

For whatever reason that I cannot fathom, I have decided on the following for my current life motto –

“It’s all fun and games until Aleister Crowley ends up in your bathtub.”

It really seems to fit right now.

Geez – you get your voice back and everybody wants a piece of it.

I could still be at work even at this late hour returning emails and phone calls and such and not be done with it. It’s gotten so that if you blink you get behind.

I must be blinking a lot.

Ah well, I keep telling myself that it will soon calm down and I can stop to smell the roses, or the turret, or whatever it is I want to be smelling at any given moment. And you know – I believe it, though I imagine there’s a whole host of supernatural beings that are laughing at my pollyanna nature at this very moment. That’s ok – I figure if believing it keeps me sane, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

We went and saw Chicago over the weekend and a fine diversion it was. Though I still maintain that it’s only a mid-western Cabaret, it is nonetheless a fine one and I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, I now want my hair done in a ’20’s bob just for giggles.

Of course – it will be a ’20’s ratsnest, since it’s my hair we’re talking about, but still – it would be a welcome change.

See, I tend to forget to do anything about my hair and so only get it cut a couple of times a year. I know that’s not a very feminine thing to do, but it’s one of those things that simply does not occur to me often. So my haircuts tend to be fairly major in their length changes, and my hair tends to look decent only for a few weeks. And now since it’s decided to change colour on me, it hardly seems to matter. If it even would take dye in a decent civilized manner there it would simply look too bizarre for me to deal with.

Of course, if I could really and truly dye it lavender, then I would change it. I’ve never understood why that’s not an acceptable colour for today’s business woman. It’s attractive, friendly, and goes with so many things.

That might also explain why I’m not one of today’s top business women. Nor would I care to be.

In fact, I’m pretty darn happy with the eclectic nature of my day to day existence. I was telling Jim earlier – today was just another typical day. I wrote a grant proposal, edited some documents, worked on the exhibition and helped someone with a tarot card problem.

All in a days work.

You gotta love it.

Goodness gracious – but it’s after 11 and I’m not in bed like a good little girl.

Course, I haven’t been that good for a few days, now have I?

Seems as though I’ve found a part of me that I always knew that I had, but just never let it come out and enjoy the sunlight. It’s the hard as nails little part that comes out for special occasions and Sunday-go-to meeting and such. And it’s really not such a bad little thing even so – I mean, after a little pas de deux in public the other day I received three phone calls of congratulation, a lunch in my honour, and a nice pot of flowers for my trouble. Not bad for merely speaking one’s mind.

See – there are certain areas where one does not go with me. You know, areas where I actually do know what I’m talking about. Like ships and history and such.

It’s a good idea to not mess with me there. I mean, you can pelt me with quantum physics all you like and I won’t say so much as ‘how do you do’ – but don’t even begin to imply that I don’t know how to do history.

See – someone did that to me the other day – in public. I can forgive, and I can even forget, since it’s not like this person committed a mortal sin or anything. But forgetting comes slowly, and I have a very good memory.

But you know, I don’t like to dwell on such things here, because at the end of the day – do they really matter? I mean – I spoke my piece and it’s now another day. Deep cleansing breath – and it’s over.

So – what else is up?

I went back to the Moses Myers House yesterday and took Harriet out to lunch.

Dear sweet Harriet. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve missed someone until you see them again. I could have hugged her for a long time.

It was sad, though. At first neither one of us spoke about what was really on our minds. There was an empty space there between us that was once occupied by Debbie.

It took a little while, but finally we talked about her. And it was good for us to take our time since by doing that we were able to spare ourselves the tears and only talk about the good in a way that would have made Debbie most happy. We even went to Kinkaids – which Debbie loved – and we were able to do so with joy rather than sadness.

I saw Sam and Phil and Marcia and Mary Jo too while I was there, sittin in the warm kitchen as they were, perusing books and catalogues and talking about nothing and everything. I also said hello to Moses and Eliza and John through their painted selves, and it was so bittersweet. I love them all – both living and not – so much, yet I cannot help them with their current sadness and melancholy. No, that’s wrong. I can be there if they need to talk (though if Moses, Eliza and John start talking to me I think I might need a few stiff drinks….)- but I can’t solve the problems endemic to that institution.

God, I hope they’ll be OK.

Anyway – yesterday was nice. Today was too. Tomorrow is my Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so I think I’ll do something important.

Like laundry.

It’s late. I need to maintain a semblance of order in my life. So goodnight for now.