It's 2018, and my New Year's resolution is to get rid of some of the unpublished drafts hanging out on my blog. Since I seem to be unable to simply delete them, I decided to throw them all into one post, which of course means things will be even less cohesive than usual. So assume your bracing position and exit as soon as the vehicle has come to a complete stop.
I've been in this neck of the woods before, visiting grandpa-in-law, but until this visit, I had no idea there was a geodesic dome out here.
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I was at the beach today, gazing at the smoky horizon while sinking my toes into the hot, white sand. And . . . looking at the bright green bikes conveniently parked along the main pathway to Golden Gardens.
For those who don't know Seattle's history with on-street bike rentals, this might seem unremarkable. But here's the thing: we've watched on-street bike rentals crash twice in our city, and one of those times was using public funds. As this article says about this whole situation and our ruling elite:
But back to the beach. While I was staring like some kind of bike creeper, two women came along and rented one of the bikes. Apparently if you rent a LimeBike, it makes a sound like an LG washer finishing its cycle. They were very happy about this while I was like, "Ugh, now I have to put the wash in the dryer."
By this point little P was narrating everything the women were doing and it was time to leave.
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| Bikes like the beach too. |
For those who don't know Seattle's history with on-street bike rentals, this might seem unremarkable. But here's the thing: we've watched on-street bike rentals crash twice in our city, and one of those times was using public funds. As this article says about this whole situation and our ruling elite:
". . . they’re unwilling to acknowledge when reality conflicts with their ideology."This made me laugh, especially on the heels of finding this gem on the City of Seattle's site under bike sharing:
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| Quit it, you're killing me. |
But back to the beach. While I was staring like some kind of bike creeper, two women came along and rented one of the bikes. Apparently if you rent a LimeBike, it makes a sound like an LG washer finishing its cycle. They were very happy about this while I was like, "Ugh, now I have to put the wash in the dryer."
By this point little P was narrating everything the women were doing and it was time to leave.
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I had this dream that I'm in a bedroom, and the clock radio goes off. Even though the hair on my arms is standing on end, I dismiss it. After all, I have a three-year-old who's a master at resetting alarm clocks. Then books start to fly off the shelves. Before I can decide to flee, I'm being chased around the house by a jack-in-the-box, that creepy little clown hopping up and down to move the box. Horrified, I promise to leave. All poltergeist activity stops. I put the books back on the shelf, thoughtfully. Maybe, this ghost is just misunderstood. I can't really leave without knowing who is haunting me, can I?
The ghost turns out to be a woman who died of cancer in the house. A bearded woman. She is very nice and I feel empathetic for her attachment to her home and for having to leave before her time. She decides she wants us to stay, putting me in a quandary. I don't want to stay in a haunted house, but if I leave, it'll hurt her feelings. And I don't want to get chased by a jack-in-the-box again.
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It's tough being an introvert. No one will like you if you are your real self. So, you gotta suck it up and go to that party.
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| Suck it up, you weird little teletubby thing. |
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We have been working on getting the condo ready to sell, and after accidentally inhaling oven cleaner, I decided to take a break. I was browsing the list of wifi connections on my laptop for lack of anything better to do (no internet, meaning no Google Docs, meaning no writing) and I just had to take some screenshots. Check it out:
You know those five word horror story things? "I'm behind the chair" is a pretty good one. And maybe a few others on this list too. Then, there's the Utopians:
Oh for a place where there's dog farts and waterfalls . . .
You know those five word horror story things? "I'm behind the chair" is a pretty good one. And maybe a few others on this list too. Then, there's the Utopians:
Oh for a place where there's dog farts and waterfalls . . .
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Guess where I am?
I've been in this neck of the woods before, visiting grandpa-in-law, but until this visit, I had no idea there was a geodesic dome out here.
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I thought my coffee maker broke this weekend and I was devastated. So I went to the store and bought some instant coffee. Right as I was taking it off the shelf, I had this moment flash through my head:
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| "Commoner's coffee? I shall drink it!" |
Fortunately, my coffee maker started working again. I have no idea why. It's a Keurig, it does what it wants. But I still have my secret stash of commoner's coffee to drink.
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And since then, my stash of commoner's coffee has got even bigger . . . I even got some for Christmas. Anyhow, I'm slightly less ill now. I'm supposed to be working on formatting and editing Egregious, but instead I've been writing my version of Little Red Riding Hood, because c'mon, that story makes no sense. An efficient wolf would eat Red right away, then cruise over to Grandma's. No messing around, no getting caught by a woodsman. And also, I had this idea for a drawing . . . anything to avoid figuring out how the 30 or so page breaks I need are going to look in ePUB format. Woopity-doo.