one week down, one to go.

well world, it's been just one week since my sweet left the country and i've generally been doing pretty well. however, i've started to become one of those people that looks to strike up conversations with strangers (aka "lonely"). i rode my bike all around town again today and went to the zoo. it was lovely outside, not as hot as it has been of late, and i tooled around the zoo for a bit, checking out the animals and whatnot. i started conversations with people in the ape house, in the african safarijourneything, and over by the sign that tells you where to go. i almost struck up a chat with a zookeeper, but she looked pretty busy observing some gray's monkeys. i would say nerdy things like, (looking at the chimps) "wow, there's no way we're related," attempting to comment sarcastically on those who don't believe in evolution. people don't mind if you talk to them, if they don't like it, they just ignore you.

later i bought some plants.

yesterday i really rode my bike

well, it's true!

i rode my bike for a long time. it was a lovely day and i rode along the lake shore path. i saw some wonderful things on my travels...lotsa bikinis: a few on rollerblades and one stroller pushin' mom...a few weird joggers...bikes, bikes, bikes...

i decided to ride all the way to a place i'd never been before. i rode to the lily pool by the zoo. it was beautiful. i would like to live there, but i think the turtles have that covered.

run, don't walk to the lily pool, people. better yet, ride your bike. it's gorgeous.

i didn't set my alarm

i woke up late this morning and i got ready really fast. i didn't even wash my face or brush my teeth. i brushed them last night, don't worry. my hair is not cute. i needed to shower. i've been smelling something stinky for the past hour and its been driving me bonkers. and i've just figured out what i think it is. i think my sleep slobber is on my face and hand. i think that's the culprit. i know this is disgusting. but i'm just really glad it's not cat pee as my boyfriend is out of the country (see previous entry regarding kittens). i washed my hands already and i think i'm gonna have to go do it again. gross.

my sister

one time, my sister and i were driving to church to drop off some brownies my mom had made for a bake sale. i was driving the dodge caravan and she was in the passenger seat holding the pan of brownies in her lap. we were arguing about music. she said the music we were listening to was stupid. she wanted to listen to her music. i said that her music was stupid. then she said something meaner to me; i don't remember what she said, but it upset me. i kind of backhanded her and that shut her up for a second. then she said that she was going to call mom. she grabbed the carphone (one of those old ones with a giant pack that plugs into the car lighter) started to call our mom. her braces had kind of cut her lip, not badly, but when i saw that i started feeling bad. i regretted what i had done. i pleaded with her not to call mom. she hung up the phone and we delivered the brownies. i still feel sorry about smacking her, but it sure does make for a good story.

why i can't have another kitten.

sometimes when i'm feeling unsure and questioning everything that i do, a certain answer comes to me very clearly:

"i want a kitten."

i've said out loud before. twice. it's terrifying to space out, tap into your subconscious and realize that that is what would make you truly happy.

a kitten brings with it the promise of new life. a kitten brings fuzzy newness and a rollicking good time. have you ever felt a tiny kitten paw? if you have not felt a kitten paw, then you're not really living. get a kitten to fall asleep on your chest and then tell me honestly if you don't feel the radiant beams of adoration toward that lil' sucker. i won't believe you.

all kittens are cute all of the time.

now, i already have two glorious cats: polly and mitch. one of these two cats is crazier than the other...come to my house and decide for yourself. i'll give you a hint, it's mitch. he's very sensitive. by sensitive, i mean he pees on stuff. if you are leaving town, he'll most likely pee on the bag you plan to use. if there is a change in sleeping arrangements with you and your boyfriend, he will most likely pee on the bed. it's pretty disgusting. but i love him. in the same way that i love polly. she used to bite my ankles when i was talking on the phone or singing along to music. now, in her kitty mid-life, she has become really sweet. i can't wait for mitch to grow up and get sweeter. and by sweeter, i mean not peeing on things.

all cats are cute almost all of the time.

don't get me wrong, these cats are awesome. and they have enough moxie for me to be writing about them on the internet. they also might not welcome a new frisky kitten into the house; three's a crowd, they say. so i will hold back from thinking those new kitten thoughts. those thoughts can get you in to trouble. with those thoughts, you can find yourself driving on the gravelly backroads of southern indiana trying to find a state road address for the place that has advertised "cute, adorable kittens" in the sunday paper. or you might find yourself downtown at navy pier meeting some strange girl at her office to do a new kitty pick-up. either way, there is nothing like the excitement of a new kitten. but for now, i'll stay excited with my full-grown cats who like to curl up, lay right down on me and make me the happiest girl in the world.

a story, part 1

Elaine reached into her pocket and pulled out her cherry chapstick and began to run her fingers over the ridges at the bottom of the tube. It was super hot out and she decided to move herself out of the sun and under the shade of a park tree. She could feel teensy beads of sweat gathering on her nose like dewdrops. With her non-chapstick-holding hand, she wipes the sweat on her face and leans hard against the tree. She steels herself for the impending waiting game. As the sun goes higher, Elaine surveys the scope of the pond, searching for a sign; some indication of where her mysterious friends might appear.

"Those ducks will be the death of me!," Elaine mutters under her breath, swatting a mosquito away from her neck.

It had been two long years since Elaine had started visiting the ducks at Rocky Bottom Pond. Her first visit was an accident. She had been on a "date" with Ron, a former co-worker from the nearby Safeway supermarket. They went to dinner at Olive Garden and then decided to take an evening stroll down by the pond. Ron had attempted to make out with Elaine, but his steely silver mustache made her think of her father and she asked if he could walk her home. He said he was "much obliged."

They were on their way down Miller's Trail when she spotted them. They were spectacular at night; yellows and greens and blues, multi-colored feathers glowing like neon. The ducks seem to glide faster than regular ducks, moving with more intensity; spirographs tracing brilliant designs onto the surface of the pond. Ron hadn't even cared to look at them. He had been too busy putting the moves on Elaine, trying to kiss her neck and whispering weird lines into her ear. "Shut up!," she hissed, "Quit it, Ron!" She was spellbound. These ducks were electric and Elaine never forgot the rush of joy she felt upon first viewing these supernatural fowl. At that moment, Ron and the entire world dropped away, leaving only Elaine and the ducks.

Her second encounter came soon after the botched date with Safeway Ron. Her sister Teresa had just announced her engagement during a big Labor Day bash and Elaine desperately needed some air. She was very upset. Elain walked down close to the pond, looking up toward the sky to hold the tears in her eyes. She told herself if they didn't fall down onto her face, then she wasn't really crying. She told herself this out loud a few times. It was helping to calm her down. Then startled by a strange, zipping sound, Elaine turned toward the pond. There were her friends, speeding and swerving, so happy to be alive! Those beauties reminded Elaine how quickly life was passing her by; that it didn't matter that her younger sister was getting married before she was. It didn't matter that she lived in the apartment building directly across the street from her aging parents. It didn't matter that she was 42, lonely and really needing a friend. She called out to the ducks, naming each one she saw: Calliope, Sarah, Mudface, Skippy, Corset, Butterball! There were so many and they were so fast, she did her best to name them all. After she was finished, she walked back toward the party, feeling better than she did when the whole day began.

A year and half passed, with no sign of Elaine's new friends. She had taken to visiting the pond once or twice a week. She purchased some used books on ducks and one romance novel to read while waiting for the ducks. Armed with binoculars, her books and a sack lunch, Elaine stationed herself at Rocky Bottom Pond every Friday (her day off from the pet shop). Every Friday she visited and every Friday she saw nothing. Months passed and no sign, not a feather. Elaine grew weary and disillusioned, wondering if she was crazy. She started thinking she had imagined the ducks and began to question her own sanity. Elaine took a break when the air began to bite and the pond got frosty. Winter came and went, spring sprung and the pond came alive once again. Out of habit, she picked up her Friday visits once again, hoping to confirm her sanity with a glimpse of those ducks.

To be continued...

fiesta resistance, ok?

well, all...inspired by my dear friend, marc and compounded with the fact that i have a leeeeetle bit o' time on my hands in the mornings, i have decided to write stuff online so people can read it. maybe i'll develop a focus for this ding dang thing eventually but right now, i'm just writing. soooo get a-ready for some inane details, fools!