The weather is weird. It’s getting down to 45 at night. It’s breezy and dry during the day; it’s like living in Eastern Washington. Clouds roll in at dusk. To go out after dark I need a sweater. Today I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt, corduroy pants, and socks. Of all things! Socks! In August!

Last night I stood so long gazing at pantry and refrigerator, I decided I must not really want to eat anything there and went to town for a meal alone with a book. I drove home as the day ended: the sky was brilliant with strange and wonderful colors and the clouds were a ridged deck above the fading sunset. At the horizon, the light was golden, and strangely green and yellow, and above it a slender band of orange and red, and still higher it faded to a million shades of chilly blue. It was cold enough I ran the heater in the Jeep. I felt all the bittersweet pangs of late Autumn, that almost-depression of year’s end. And it’s only August! The crops aren’t even in yet, and I feel like it’s the week after Halloween.

Strange, strange summer. We’ve only run the A/C six or seven nights, and I haven’t once been swimming in the triangle pond.

—
I still miss Brett. It’s so strange not having him around. I’ve been lazy, taking my own little vacation; aside from paying bills and a few dishes I haven’t done any chores. No dusting, sweeping, laundry, or even cooking. It’s fun, but lonely.

Joe’s around to keep me company, but I’m not in roommate mode any more I guess: a roommate is neat, but a roommate is not a husband for comfort and companionship. It is nice to have an evening chat with somebody, though – without Joe I’d probably be downright melancholy between the weather and an empty house.

Stella moped for two days, then righted herself. Dogs are plastic.

—
I’ve still only received three logos and three pictures from my latest web client, and haven’t gotten much done. I’m hoping he’ll innundate me with content and I’ll be able to crank out the rest of the site this weekend, before Brett gets home.

—
I am so tired of my hair falling out. It’s becoming obvious now; even with perfectly clean, dry and fluffy hair my scalp shows in several places because my cowlicks are now too light to fall right. My hair is so thin I had to buy smaller scrunchies as the older ones would just fall out. I don’t have any fuzzy down around my forehead anymore because it fell out and quit growing back. If I pull all my hair into a ponytail and twist it, it’s the thickness of an exexutive pen. It’ll be the thickness of a pencil in another few months if nothing changes.

It’s astonishingly distressing to be going bald at 35. I really don’t like it. I don’t like it for the usual reasons of vanity, but also because my head’s always cold. Without that thatch of new hair coming in, without that underlayer of short hairs, every breeze goes right to your head and makes you chilly.

Good thing I can knit myself all the hats I’ll ever need for the winter, I guess.

I’m going to get some Evening Primrose Oil; it’s supposed to help with the hormonal conversion going on (it has something to do with testosterone) which causes follicles to shut down and fall out. It can’t hurt to try. And Friday, I will be aggressive: I will call doctors until I find one who will make me an appointment and give me the blood tests I want. Period. As much as I hate having to be aggressive or even rude, I will find a clinic to sell me the services I want and not what they decide to give me.

At least I feel fine, aside from horrible, debilitating cramps every month. I haven’t been having the mental/emotional problems of last year. Anxiety and depression are horrible, awful things, and no one should have to live like that. (I might be mildly depressed, I suppose, since I don’t feel terribly social, but if so it’s depression so mild it doesn’t come with any self-doubt or grief or fear or any of those other paralyzing problems. I might just be old enough not to want to have the same conversations over and over again, or just lazy! LOL!)
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Here’s my cute hubby (and Jimbo in the background). He called me this morning; he sounds all relaxed and mellow, and he’s having fun in Colorado. He’s currently sitting on Ron’s porch, enjoying the view of the valley, and waiting for Josha to come pick him up.

I guess Ron had to go into work to get a few things done today, but will take the rest of the week off to hang with Mr. Brett.

It’s so weird not having Brett around! (But I have a Joe to pester me, so at least I’m not lonely. Heh.) It’s mushy, but I miss him terribly.

Barb dropped by Sunday and hung out with for the evening; we sat at the picnic table and chatted. She is so the most ideal mother-in-law and I am so not worthy! We talked about Brett’s sister’s in-laws and they are, apparently, quite capable of being complete freaks.

The more I hear about other people’s in-laws, the more I worship Barb. She has some special mom power that makes you know you can depend on her and that she’s always there, but the woman doesn’t have an intrusive bone in her body. She doesn’t judge, or control, or nag, or anything. She’s my idol, I swear. She really believes in her bones that her kids are people, capable of having their own experiences and requiring their own space. Comparing her to my friends’ in-laws, I really have to wonder what it is that keeps so many parents from ever noticing that they’re intruding on their kids’ lives and essentially belittling their abilities to function as adults. I mean, how can you not know that your kids don’t want you over three times a week? Or that they don’t really want to be required to hang out with you whenever you want? Seriously.

Anyway, Brett did call me this morning, and he was in the middle of a sentence when his phone died. I waited a few minutes, then called him back and got his voice mail. So, I didn’t get to tell him he’s adored but I did get to chat with him for a bit and he sounds great, the cutie.

Nothing better for the health of a marriage than time apart, by God!
——–

My baby’s gone for a whole week. Sniff. I miss him!

Put him on a train last night, and sent him off to the tender mercies of the Colorado crowd. I’m so stoked he’s finally going on a vacation, since he hasn’t had one in three years. He seemed visibly relaxed the moment he decided to go – the man desperately deserves some down time.

All he does is work, really. We don’t have much of a social life any more (being too old now to survive much of one, I think) and my man does work hard for a living… and he dutifully gives his money over to me, and I pay bills with it. It’s got to get a little stale after awhile.

But the good news is that he’s probably at Ron’s house by now, getting hugs and smiles from old friends, maybe having a real beer at a microbrewery, and feeling that wonderful feeling of having discretionary cash in his pocket and being on day one of being on vacation for a whole week.

The weird thing about being with someone day in, day out for seven years is this: I can feel it as he gets farther away. It’s weird. I can always feel it when we’re seperated, but somehow when I’m the one traveling the pang is less intense – probably because I’m occupied with the new environs.

Last night, as his train moved farther and farther away, I started to miss him. It sounds somewhat maudlin but I’m trying to express an experience more than a feeling; I can tell when my husband gets far away from me. Once he was off doing something, I don’t know what, maybe fishin’ or something or picking up materials for a job, and they got lost or disorderly and ended up in another state, and I already knew he’d been many hundreds of miles away from me when he came home and told me about it. I could feel it. Or perhaps a lessening of it? Something. I can feel a pang once we get a certain distance physically from one another.

We’re not phone people, so in the past when one of us travelled we didn’t even speak on the phone, but I asked him to call me once or twice to check in and he smiled as if he were pleased I wanted his attention and he said he would. I’m looking forward to hearing that relaxed tone of voice when he calls, that “I have no responsibilities for days!” kind of voice. He’s certainly earned it.

Bo and Joe commented that Brett already seemed to have put a load down, that he looked as if he’d already been on vacation, when we stopped by 1-Stop yesterday afternoon and he told them he was catching the 7:21 PM California Zephyr to Denver in a few hours.

He was long overdue for a vay-cay, that man o’ mine. (And I get the whole bed to myself!)

…Joe seems to be moved in. He has his desk set up, and the boxes in his room are piled neatly. We moved the rifles into another storage area. He slept here last night, at least, but that doesn’t really count toward moving in as much as you might think, since he crashes here on average of 1.5 nights a month.

He’s off now cleaning his old house with Josh, I guess.

I was hoping to work on the Grand Orleans Hotel site, but they haven’t sent me much. I got three pictures last week I can start with, but no content. So I guess I’ll putt around with it and see what I can do with what I have so far.

I’m reading a wonderful book today called The Probable Future by Alice Hoffman. Yum. It’s gorgeous prose and a scene in it was so well written and beautifully expressed that it actually made me cry. I’ll cry at the cheesiest movie, but words on a page have to be exceptionally powerful to make me weep. It’s rather exciting to read something so stirring.

In fact, I think I’ll go read more. Ciao!
——–

Poor iPAQ. I dropped it yesterday in a moment of spasticity; now the buttons don’t quite work properly. I mean, they work well enough, but they don’t work the way they’re supposed to.

A few tasty tidbits re: the town I live in! Tiny Batavia, Iowa! {cue applause}

I don’t believe our household participated in the 2000 census; we didn’t move in until November. But still, such a tiny little hamlet. I love it all the more.
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These are all too short to be their own blog entries:

1. I cut my own hair in the bathroom Monday afternoon.

2. I’m secretly in love with Bucket.

3. Brett sprained his ankle last Saturday.

4. I went to the demo derby at the fairgrounds last Sunday.

5. I made peanut butter cupcakes with chocolate frosting Monday night.

6. Brett gave Joe a porkchop last night.

7. The Jeep is pretty much turning into a beater. *sigh*

8. I am so into knitting lately, it’s geeky.

9. Brett is hoping to take a vacation in two weeks! (Finally!)

10. Joe said I make really good soup.
——–

You know who’s been getting on my nerves?

Brett’s dad.

Yes, yes, he’s dead. But he’s been popping out of Brett’s mouth lately. Take this morning, for instance. I did something Brett didn’t like – I put a blanket on his sprained ankle and made him holler with pain – but instead of saying, “Ow! That fucking hurts dude!” he told me instead that I’m stupid.

Much like he did the day I broke my rear view mirror. And once recently when he didn’t like something I did while driving. And it seems like there was another time but I don’t remember exactly what it was.

What with the sprained ankle and all I let it slide this morning. But tonight, I’ll say this: “I don’t think you know you’re doing this, so I’m bringing it to your attention. When you don’t get your way, or you’re tired, or you’re in pain, or whatever, you’ve begun talking to me like you say your dad talked to your mom.

“If I do something you don’t like, please let me know. But in the future, I need you to make an effort to stop telling me I’m stupid. It’s just not gonna fly with me, and I don’t care if it’s a sprained ankle or your whole foot’s been cut off: watch what you say to your wife.”

I’m actually kinda looking forward to the look on his face: Me? I’ve been doing that? No way! It’s just so not his style to speak to people that way; I think we all fall into bad habits sometimes. I know I periodically hear my mom or dad’s least desirable tones come out of my own mouth!

Ah, the struggle to be a better person never ceases!

This is the coolest tiled background I have ever seen in my whole life. See more tiles by the same artist… many of them are way cool.

Here is a picture of my boy-dog, Shiva. No reason. Just seemed like it was time. Isn’t he lovely? Such a Meathead, that Shiva of mine! Such a handsome boy. Now if he’d quit opening doors, breaking windows, chewing up socks, barking, and flailing all the time he’d be even handsomer!

I feel like I’ve been fairly busy lately, but whenever I want to blog I can’t think of much to say.

I got hired for another web gig; I’ll be building a site for Grand Orleans Hotel in Burlington, IA. I’ve already sent ’em my first invoice and am waiting on content – pictures and logo files and such – before I dig in. I was all ready to web my arse off last weekend but they hadn’t sent me enough to work with yet.

Friday I cleaned house like a machine. It was no more or less fun or rewarding than any domestic chore can be. The downside of cleaning house like a machine for me is that my house is vast and there is always something more to do, so no matter how much I do, I always feel like I should or could have done more.

A pet peeve of mine is to bust ass cleaning all day only to sit down after dinner and realize that the living room is dirty. Grr.

Last weekend Brett and I bit the bullet and cleaned the attic. It was basically full of shit – the dogs took to going up there a long time ago, and we didn’t notice it right away. Then the cat started using it. It was so disgusting neither of us could bear to attack it, but with the summer months upon us and the plastic divider half fallen down, we could begin to smell it. So up we went, armed with brooms and garbage cans and a mop bucket full of bleach. It was a nasty job, but we did it in the evening when it wasn’t too horribly hot up there and we just grit our teeth and busted through it.

Now it’s all cleaned and disinfected, and there’s a board over the stairs so no pets can get back up there. It’s really great to get a nasty job of one’s To Do list.

Saturday and much of Sunday I lounged on the couch and watched TV and knitted and took naps. It was wonderfully lazy. Brett didn’t do much either aside from mow the lawn.

Monday was errand day. I went to town and paid bills, did seven loads of laundry, bought household stuff from Walmart, bought groceries. It took me nine trips to unload the Jeep when I got home, and Shiva and Bindu had to be underfoot every single time I turned around. After I got everything in the house, I had to put it all away. Before I could put the food away, I had to throw old food out, but before I could do that I had to take out the garbage. I ruthlessly tossed anything older than strictly necessary out of both of the refrigerators and trundled the garbage out to the pile in the shed.

No matter how much I police, I’m always finding empty condiments and mouldy containers in my fridge! And then there’s always that half tomato in the bottom of the crisper, and the two bread bags with one heel each in them, and the ripped bag of lunch meat that Brett won’t eat and can’t seem to throw away either… and there’s always nasty shit rotting in the beer fridge. I don’t really know how it all gets in there, but I chucked it all into a big garbage bag yesterday.

The other fun problems of country living are humidity and mice. Humidity means that the granola inside an improperly closed tupperware container becomes like chewy, sweaty cardboard and has to be tossed. Humidity means that the salt turns into a brick and has to be sliced out of the container.

Mice mean that when I reached for the instant mashed potatoes the other evening (I use them for soup thickener), there was mouse turds in it. There were also mouse holes in two boxes of pasta.

In short, mice and humidity cause me to throw out a lot of food – it’s a waste of money. Generally I keep most things in glass jars or plastic containers, but some stuff is fine for a long time and I don’t bother. (Like the mashed potatoes. I’ve always kept a box of those, and never had any problems. Especially not in the summer!) So a good fridge and cupboard purge was just the ticket.

After the groceries were away, I had to put away the Walmart stuff, and then the laundry. Then I made dinner. Then Brett called from the shop where he and Joe were geeking on Joe’s bike. He said, “Did you already make dinner?”

I said, “Yep.”

Silence. Then: “Oh, well, then I’ll be home in a few.”

“Do you want me to bring you boys foodies, then? So you can nerd out on bikes some more?”

He thought that was the coolest thing ever, and asked me to bring his welder since I was coming, so I packed up sandwiches and stew and drove back to town to deliver them food.

They added a fender and fender struts to Joe’s bike and I sat in the Jeep and finished knitting a pair of wool slippers for Brett and then went home to do the picnic dishes.

I’d post newer pics of the transformation of Joe’s scooter but the flash died on my digital camera. This pissed me off to no end. I mean, I can still take pictures in broad daylight, but that’s about it. And since it was just a cheapo little $150 digi cam, I doubt it’s even fixable.

Since I’d bought a new shower curtain yesterday, when I got home I couldn’t stand the clean shiny curtain over my nasty dirty shower, so I cleaned it while Brett’s slippers felted in the washing machine. I didn’t really want to clean the bathroom last night, but the new shower curtain is clear and it just looked bad. Snort! I’m sure when I take a shower after work tonight that it will have been well worth it.

Since I spent so much time knitting lately, I accidentally did some knitting surfing this morning. I want a set of Boye Needle Master needles pretty awfully! I charged some yarn online this morning too – shh! Who woulda thunk I’d grow up to be a cheesy knitter?!

I’m sure other things have been going on more interesting than my housekeeping litany, but I can’t think of what they are, really. My life is a small place in my old age, really, populated with a small group of close friends and filled up with the endless toil of keeping house.

I’m reading the Sword of Shannara trilogy on my palmtop. It’s okay. I don’t hate it, but it’s not really rocking my boat too hard. It’s long, at least – that makes it fun! It’s nice to have a relationship with a book that lasts more than three days!

My dad continues his adventures; his house is sold and he’s buying an RV which he intends to drive to Panama. It’ll be really exciting to have someone to visit in South America!

Oh, and last but not least, Brett and I will soon be uncle and aunt: Brett’s sister is pregnant, due in mid-December! I guess I’d better work a bit, then surf for cute layette knitting patterns. Snort!