just whistle while you…’re unemployed.

Today, six squash plants and two bell pepper plants got put in the “auxilary garden” (ie, my grandparents’ backyard), and I weeded out the raised bed and the blackberry bush has suddenly decided to become enormous. Yay! And Grandpa kept asking me which pumpkin he could give to his neighbor’s baby (apparently he promised the baby that he could have a pumpkin) (and I was like, sure, because the baby will remember that and bear a grudge if you don’t) (but I am all for children playing with pumpkins, so obviously I do not mind giving away one of the many, many gorgeous squash that I will be growing). (I am imagining pumpkins big enough for that baby to live in, you understand.)

So, that was fun. And I am still covered with mud.

Then the library called me.
They said they loved me.
But no.

I was all professional on the phone, and then afterward Mom was like, “Oh, let me give you a hug”. Which I declined because I did not want to be sad about it. (But of course I went back to where I’d been sitting and was all, “Back to my jobless life. I’ll be living in the basement” etc etc.) Whenever I’m feeling disappointed/sad, I can totally be fine in a few minutes and not cry or anything like that. But if anyone says, “Are you okay?” or “Do you want me to [insert kind favor here]“… Well.

Speaking of kind things, Eliza made me a very delicious fried egg sandwich for breakfast yesterday. Because she loves me, and knows all about my breakfasting woes. (I hope she also knows that she is the best cook ever.) (OK, except my grandmother. But it’s impossible to best someone’s grandma at cooking.) 

(Evidently I like talking in parenthesis today.)

So, even though I’m still a little bummed out, because I REALLY wanted the job (I will pause here to give you time to absorb this stunning new information), even though there is an underlying stress that reminds me of when we had to move, I’m surprisingly calm about everything. Besides, how bummed can a person be while digging in the garden singing “hoireann o, hi ri u” with lemon balm and blackberry leaves dripping rain and the random garlic shoots curling elegant and ready to bloom.

And while Poncho is sitting here now eating dinner and muttering to himself, “Hero Factory. Where the best, most bravest heroes are made.”

 

Notions

Eliza is in KANSAS! And Bug is lonely at home. I am here, and nothing is really different for me. Yesterday I was trying to knit with circle needles, which did not work out, mostly because I could not understand the instructions for this pattern… I mean, why do they have to talk in knitter code? I pretty much wing it. But yeah, last night me, Mom, Poncho, and Dodge were at the craft store and Mom made Dodge go with me to the knitting aisle. Which took us a long time to find, strangely; it was shoved in the corner. Dodge was being hyper and random and making me laugh at everything.
Dodge: “Wow, that’s real.” He held up a superball with an eye inside it. “Yeah right. Where’s the optic nerve?”
Then we finally found the yarn aisle…
Dodge: (holding up yarn) “This one is called Bunny Tail. They chop the tails off innocent bunnies!” (find another) “And cats! It’s called cattail!”
Me: (eye roll)
Dodge: “Ooooh, this one’s so soft. Feel it.”
Me: “No thanks.”
Dodge: “Feel it. FEEL IT RIGHT NOW!”
So that was… interesting….

Oh–And!

Yesterday was Grandma and Grandpa Vegas’ 49th wedding anniversary!!!!
So we went out to eat.

Grandpa Vegas (aka Turtle Grandpa): “So, Pen, someday maybe you’ll have a boyfriend who brings you here to eat, oooooh.”
Me: “Uh… I guess…”
Grandpa: “Make sure you eat a breath mint afterward! Hahaha!” (makes a kissing face)
I laughed, and Grandma just rolled her eyes. Which she has a habit of doing. She actually rolls her eyes at people at work. 

In other news, I finally set up my phone’s voicemail. Using a British accent. (then Eliza called from Kansas and left a message. Using a British accent. I cracked up!)
I’m looking forward to more messages left using British accents. Some people fare better than others. Dad does a really good impression of that Cockney cab driver from A Study in Pink, but he can also pull off a Jane-Austen-times type of gent. Mom is improving, but she still sounds like an American trying to sound British. Which she is, of course, but you know Americans. The main problem is they overdo it. They sound too gushy and over-enunciate-y. Most likely they get this idea from the fake Brits in American movies/shows. Sigh.

Off to write… or nap, whatever. ;)

Yours till the oak leaves,
Pen

 

they heard her singing her last song, the Lady of Shalott

Actually I didn’t sing. I sat in my fabulous cardboard boat, with my name written round and round the prow as the poem says, and stared off into space. Or rather, an imagined Camelot. Some people thought I was not real. Some people asked me what The Lady of Shalott was. Some middle-aged English buffs knew who I was.
3 of them, to be exact. That’s right. 3 people knew me!

It is the world record of people “getting” my costumes. It’s understandable; I usually go as someone obscure and literary-themed. The Thief Lord was understood by no one except Emma. When I went as the Mad Hatter people actually thought I was a boy. No one thought I was a boy this year, though. Well. I mean I truly hope not.

I am thinking of posting some Halloween pictures, but I do not have the camera on hand at the moment… I think Dodge is filming something, most likely… Dodge the YouTube star…

Anyway.

This year I finally tried something I’ve been wondering about since I was a kid: roasted pumpkin seeds. They were delicious! Dad made a “brine” to put them in so they’d be just the right amount of salty, and then I put them in the oven until they smelled good. I am taking some to the DHFs’ on the morrow so they can taste some, too.

Turtle Grandpa was Mr. Bones, aka a plastic skeleton that you can talk through via a microphone. Grandpa hid in the house behind the closed front door and did the voice of Mr Bones. Here are some memorable quotes:
“Hey! I’m Mr Bones! I never shut up.”
“The Lady in a  Box… Box, Camelox, it rhymes! Hey, you’re in a boat. Are you a goat? Are you a goat in a boat? A boat in a goat? Okay, okay. The Lady of Shalott. I got it.”
“They don’t need to x-ray me, they can just see through me.”
“I think I’m getting cold over here… I ain’t got no skin to keep out the wind.”
“Now, don’t forget to brush your teeth before bed tonight! Or else the dentist will be mad! No, wait, the dentist would be happy… Your parents will be mad, they have to pay the bill.”

Ah. I’m sure he said many more amusing things. Mom and Grandma were cracking up behind me all the time. And Grandpa seemed to be enjoying his role.

Poncho was sick this year, but Dad took him to a few houses. Dodge went to his friend’s house for an “epic Nerf war”. It was odd without him here, and I felt bad for poor Ponchito!! But they both had fun.

I had fun, too.
It was pretty fun.
Even though I started to go the way of the poem… “As her blood was frozen slowly…” Yup, I definitely felt that, especially in my hands. 

I am tired. 

At the closing of the day/ she loosed the chain and down she lay/ the broad stream bore her far away/ down to tower’d Camelot…

Love,
Pen of Shalott

 

Ha. Ha.

I saw a guy’s shirt that said:

Haikus are easy
But sometimes they make no sense
Refrigerator

And I cracked up. Then told everyone about it today at the Fest (which wavery fun, blahblahblah, save it for a different post when I have more time and a better keyboard because this one is terrible…).

Speaking of shirts we got Grandpa Vegas a shirt that says “the older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune” which he seemed to like. But when I first told him we brought him a present he said, “What? A turtle?” Because Dodge and I call him Turtle Grandpa now. Which all started at the zoo, when we saw the tortioses eating, and…
Grandpa: “Ha! Look! He ain’t got no teeth. He’s like me. I’m a turtle. Just call me Turtle Grandpa.”
So we obliged, naturally.

Anyway. I’m tired now. The Fest wore me out. We (the DHFs, me, and Poncho) went into the mosh pit and moshed along with a bunch of cheering, sweaty people. Steph had to hand her (new) shirt around to us so we could each wipe the sweat from our brow. Poncho loved the Fest and became endeared to our fellow moshers.

I love how after I said I was tired, I didn’t leave.

Random.

Word of the day according to Bug.

According to Dodge, the word of the day is either “WALT!” (he does a very funny Michael impression– and a scary Ben Linus one) or “mature” (something he is trying to make Poncho become– good luck, brotha.)

Srsly though I gotta go to bed. Tis midnight AND I am 2 typos away from KILLING THIS KEYBOARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

G’night. (I’m opposite Australian! You know, cuz they say G’day….)
Wow. I’m loopy.
–Pen

Refrigerator.

 

Happy St. Practice Day!

At my latest dance lesson, the bar below the studio was hopping. I wondered aloud why, and my teacher said dryly, “It’s St. Practice Day, I guess.” Hahaha.

So, anyway… I am excited. My Grandpa Vegas probably is, too. He tells everyone he meets that he’s Irish; he uses it alternately as a threat. (“You tell that nasty woman that if she doesn’t listen to you I’ll come down there! I’m Irish!”) I can see him now, proudly declaring “I’m Irish!” at every gathering we happen upon tomorrow, then in the next breath saying, “Them crazy Irishmen…” until I remind him that he is one of them crazy Irishmen. To which he will reply, “Yeah, I’m an Irish hillbilly” and break into his impression of an Irish jig, singing ”Doe dee doe dee do; Yeah, Grandpa, click your heels!”

He’s awesome. :D

Broduil Irish,
Pen