Whelp. If I'm to write reflecting my most common influences, I'd begin by telling you that now-a-days, you can't rely on blah-dee-blee-dee-blah blah.
Luckily for you, stalwart blog-reader, I'll only adopt one horrific habit from my students--and that is the habit of speaking to you in second person, as if I could pull up a chair and chitty-chat longer than a centipede countin' his toes.
Currently, I'm in the new house. It's so spacious and filled with resonant sound (vaulted ceilings! hardwood floors! the same amount of furniture in almost 50% more space) that I feel inescapably zen and put together. It's as if I instantly erased ten years worth of slap-dash paper and laundry piles with the chill, welcoming charisma of a self-published, fairly introverted (but still friendly!) novelist or creative business-person. Let the heavenly choirs sing as I glance around this place, again.
Lately, I've been craving updates from old, far-away friends, so who am I to ask without giving? Here's a set of anecdotes. I can't guarantee that there'll be a theme--I did, after all, just slurp down a blended soy mocha coffee. Sugar AND caffeine YAY! SHINY SPARKLY WORLD!
1) In the new house, I feel more like Snow White than ever before. Did I mention to you that my grandmother's middle name is snow--and I'll bet you can infer her maiden name. For reals! Named not after a fairy tale, but after the pristine weather event itself. Elta Snow White. It *does* have a pleasant cadence, no?
Anyhow--the animals. They are more obsessed with "mama" in the new house than ever before. Kaylee because, well, let's be honest, I'm the TWUE WUV of her entire life (OH MY GOD YOU BETTER NOT HURT MY MOM OR I'LL CUT YOU!). Buddy is more difficult to peg, but my theory is that we just love the exact same things in life. Cuddling in the morning. Laying around. Getting attention PRECISELY when you want it, and only then. Being at a desk when there's ambient sunlight in the room, but especially where you sit. Cutting up the bitches that dare disturb your slumber or playtime. Whining the instant you become aware of a desire that you have. Oo. And staring off into space as if you saw the entirety of the universe in that foot of air beyond your head. ya know. the basics.
2) Adulthood seems boring when seen as a tale to be told, but that's only when you happen to be particularly skilled at actually accomplishing your shit. No one except facebook cares about your morning routine or your ability to hum while doing laundry and simultaneously re-organizing your linen closet. But, dammit if those tiny chores are not immensely satisfying. Perhaps this realization is what prompts my desire for more friend stories. While few of us have truly absurd stories anymore (though, it IS me and you we're talking about--the universe will conspire to test our wit and mettle again soon), I also feel that we share fewer stories because there seems to be less to tell. There isn't. I deeply care about the tune you hummed while doing your laundry and re-organizing your closet. Was it Kermit the Frog, Radiohead, They Might be Giants, or Erykah Badu? I need to know.
Moreover, if you're more Holly Home-maker and Pollyanna Pinterest than myself, do you actually fold those fitted sheets neatly into the alleged "self-contained-pocket"? WTF, man.
3) I must have reaching my writing quota for the night. Here's my plan--a margarita night. Because I'm not on Pinterest, I'll share this with you here. Do you not want ALL THE '
RITAS?? Nom nom!
Come visit and we'll make it happen.
