Here comes the feeling you thought you’d forgotten

It’s summer? I feel like one day I woke up and all the leaves were popped out and the sun was shining and my brain just made the adjustment like, “Okay, so that happened.” And now it’s so freakishly normal to resume my favorite lifestyle– the one where I never wear shoes anywhere, only carry them around to places in a half-attempt at being civilized. This summer is weird, though, because I have already been to the beach approximately five times. Despite living here all my life, I’ve rarely been to the beach at all because my dad hates germs and the city.

But now already I’ve gone on a few trips to Edgewater with Oliver to sit on rocks, eat ice cream, and watch sailboats, all as the sun sinks into the lake and we discuss such idyllic topics as trial-by-combat. Also we had a picnic there, which involved a box of wings which we devoured like mad hyenas. And Huntington twice, where we climbed a shale cliff, walked all over, climbed onto a broken chimney that was sunk in the water, waded in a creek, found a ton of beach glass, sort of got a tan, and played volleyball. (I actually hit the ball a few times. Such sporting, wow.) Also while we were there the dogwood trees were shedding their cotton like snow and it was glorious.

The nature on that beach restored me somehow. I think it’s not just the way everything looks, though there is so much there that’s lovely and interesting. But it’s the fact that I could touch everything, all the rocks, the water,the sand, the grass, feel the breeze and the sun, for hours and hours, all day long. I felt like I absorbed everything through my skin. Maybe it’s not the salt water that heals you. Maybe it’s just the beach.

And amazing books. I just read one such book called Annihilation, and then I told the entire plot to Oliver on a car ride, and then to Bug, except Bug got excessive hand motions and me shouting, “NNNOPE! NOPE!” to explain major points. When Eliza got back from work and I was still at their house, Bug mentioned that I had been telling her about a book… Eliza asked, “Oh, what is it?”
Me: *flails and falls to the ground* “AAAAUUUGGGGGHHHHHH”
Eliza: “OK, I don’t actually need to know.”

So, actually a lot more than just beach-combing and book-reading has been going on, but I don’t even know what else to say specifically. Except for one thing that was specifically not mentioned, which is: I got a car today. (!) (?) (!!!!)

It is a Pontiac Grand Am as white as porcelain. It has woofer speakers that make people give me a sideways stare at stop lights. It is almost as old as Poncho. It has shiny chrome wheels and it doesn’t smell like something died inside of it (Yay, bonus). But that’s all I can say about it for now. I’ve only had it for a day, and besides that I am tired of talking cars for the time being. It is exciting, though. And I never thought I’d actually be excited about getting a car.

Car

Oh yeah, that reminds me– I have developed a serious love for gifs. Among other things… It’s like I just discovered the internet. It used to be just a few websites to me, and now it’s a whole big thing and greatly amusing.

Anyway, I guess that’s all for now. But I’m sure there will be no shortage of new adventures to tell in the near future.

Re-loo, Re-loo

Guys. I KNOW it has been approximately 800 years since I’ve posted anything here, but I am going to ignore that fact and instead of telling you what I’ve been doing lately, I present one of my Projects With Bug. This particular one occurred last week when the weather decided to not be kill-yourself freezing and was only face-numbingly cold. It was the first day of spring, actually! First we went to a little place called Coe Lake and walked all the way around it through wind and woods. Bug, who has more knowledge of the place than I, set out for the most interesting trees for posing in.

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Then it was on to deeper parts of the woods, along the way noting  a seagull skull, which prompted Bug to ask why the likelihood of finding dead things goes up whenever I’m around…  My theory is that there are just a lot of dead things in the woods, and if you are always peering intensely at the ground– as I do, in my search for feathers, antlers, cool sticks et cetera– you are going to see some.(Except, despite my recent, obsessive best efforts, I haven’t been able to find a single shed antler… *claws the walls* WILL OUTSIDE PLEASE BE CLEMENT I NEED TO LOOK MORE)

Anyway, we found a bunch of cool fallen trees and climbed on them.

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Then we ventured onward into town, and around to the criscross bridges hidden behind some of the buildings.

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On our way out of there, Bug found another interesting tree, but had some trouble climbing into it…

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She eventually succeeded.

Also, we both became simultaneously taken with the brick wall across the street. Bug understands me, man.

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The last bit of our tour involved the stone steps where we avoided the stares of college kids and chilled out under the pines.

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On our way back, we plotted out some hopes for future, hopefully warm-weather adventures… Islands of ruins and broken glass and geodes, days around the lake, and of course, ever more time spent tromping through field and forest. I. Cannot. Wait.

a bit of pre-Thanksgiving

Francis: “Sing to it, it likes to be sung to.”
Eliza: *singing* “There once was a lass I used to knooooooow…”
Bug: *singing under her breath* “It’s just a piece of doooough….”

Because yes. They are singing to pie dough. According to Francis, the pie dough “needs to be loved” as you make it. Apparently pie-making is a magical process, one which requires the utmost concentration combined with a loving touch and–

Eliza: *singing* “And at last I seeeeeeeee the liiiiiiiight…. Okay, sing something new to it.”
Me: “When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that’s–”
Eliza: “No, he hates it. He liked my other singing better.” Now she has started singing in her Mother Gothel voice… “Rapunzel knows best, Rapunzel’s so mature now– And, the crust is done.” (to the pie) “I’m glad you were finished under Mother Gothel’s hand.”
Me: “This has gotten progressively creepier.”

The Rant of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Dodge has been talking to me in the Batman voice all night.
Bat-Dodge: “Did you know I’m also Dr. Seuss? Bat. Cat. Rat. Hat. …I give up.”

So, today I spent most of the day hanging out at Bug’s. And she was in one of her snarky moods, as evidenced by this little episode…
Bug, Francis, and I were sitting around the kitchen table, and flipping through the mail, which included a catalog of unattractive nativity sets (I don’t know why this was even there, okay….???). All of a sudden…
Bug: “Why do they always make the sugar plum fairy lavender?!?”
Me and Francis: *exchange raised-eyebrows glance*
Me: “Um…”
Francis: “Because it’s purple…?”
Bug: “But it’s the sugar PLUM fairy!”
Francis: “Plums are… purple…”
Me: “And it’s a sugar plum, so it’s light purple.”
Bug: “But it’s not lavender! It’s not the lavender fairy!” *deep-throated snarl*

I found Bug’s snark-at-everything mood highly entertaining, but Francis was a bit put off and imitated it thusly: “Why is there SUNSHINE!?! Stupid sun, it’s so lame! Why does it even exist?!?”

Bug also growled and hissed at her math work until eventually she gave up on it, though not before threatening several fractions with imminent death should they reuse to cooperate.

Then, once again we found ourselves at the kitchen table (oh who am I kidding with this “once again” stuff. It’s pretty obvious that we set up camp there for the day)  and Mom’s keys were sitting in front of me. Suddenly Bug said, “Did something just crawl under the keys?”
Me: “Do we want to know?”
Apparently, yes. Bug lifted the keys. A centipede burst forth, and Bug and I leapt back– and Mom shrieked!
Francis: *running over* “What happened?”
Bug: “Centipede…”
Francis: “Oh my gosh, the way she screamed I thought somebody was hurt.”
Me: “The way she screamed I thought she’d just seen a severed hand on the table, not a centipede.”

So, that was my day… Sugar plum fairies, severed hands, and Batman. Yup, pretty normal, actually.

Things that Begin with the Letter B (part two)

Part 2: I actually forget what started with B at this part. Best friends? Black Friday? Brain cell loss? 

So then, it was Wednesday. Which meant… ELIZA WAS HOME!!!!

Actually, it meant I was at work for most of the day, stuck there with the knowledge that Eliza was within walking distance (erm, if I reeeeeallly liked walking, that is). Everyone was saying “Happy Thanksgiving” to each other, and I wanted to say back, “Happy day before Thanksgiving, a.k.a. the day I will finally see my friend in real life, a.k.a. ISN’T LIFE BEAUTIFUL DON’T YOU JUST WANT TO HOP IN CIRCLES!” But I restrained myself. Be proud of me. (I did do that thing where you jump and click your heels as I went out the door, though.) I jumped in the car and said to Mom, “Go, go, GO!”
Mom: …calmly clips a coupon. “Hang on. I’m almost done.”
Me: “Gah!”
Then I finally got to the DHF’s house, and knocked at the door. That’s when I heard a thud and PoorBill talking loudly and slowly, and I looked through the window to see the DHFs carrying a couch down the stairs. Bug let me in through the back, and then Eliza came from putting the couch down (I guess they were making good use of having their Krypton Girl home) and we “mauled” each other as Poncho would say. This involved me being squeezed so hard I thought I was going to have a bruised rib.

Well, the DHFs were/are in a state of home-interior transition, so we were all put to work holding pictures up to the wall for approval, handing screws to PoorBill, etc. I also did a lot of jumping around. Just saying. Bug and I went crazy, re-enacted Star Wars and invented “crab attack”, which we decided is the part of Star Wars that you didn’t see, and which we spontaneously broke out into for the rest of the time I was there. At some point all of the excitement died down and– just kidding, I don’t think that ever happened.

And the next day was… Thanksgiving!

So, we got up and made some apple pie. We (well, actually Eliza) had made sweet potato pie (I know, I know! It shouldn’t even be mentioned to people who don’t have a piece in front of them, that was very cruel of me) the night before. Everything was tra-la-la; we were expecting Grandma Vegas to show up in the afternoon, followed soon after by the rest of my family. But then I got the call. (dun dun dun)
It was Mom. Poncho, apparently, had strep. Also Dodge had a similar ailment. So it would just be Grandma and Grandpa Vegas and my dad who would be joining us. They arrived with turkey and other food, and as we waited for the stuffing to finish cooking, Eliza had a little chat with Grandpa.
Grandpa: “So, I hear you’re dating. That’s not good.”
Eliza assured him that her “beau” (as I call him… I am still trying to think of a good blog– or real life!–nickname for him) is a good fellow.
Grandpa: “No, all boys are bad! I know. I was that age once and–”
Grandma: “Ah-ah, don’t even go there.”
Grandpa: “Well, I’m just saying.” Then he made sure to ask all the right questions. Including, “Is he Irish?”
Eliza: “No, I don’t think so. He does have Italian, though.”
Grandpa: “Hardheads! I know all about that. My wife’s Italian.”
Grandma: “Yeah, and I’m right here.”
And, the ultimate question from Grandpa: “What kind of car does he drive?”
You have to understand that this is the question in Grandpa’s mind. As a retired Chevy worker, he won’t even let foreign cars park in his driveway. (I don’t know if Fords are allowed. Maybe only if you let him say “F-O-R-D: Fix Or Repair Daily” every time you come over.)
Eliza: “I don’t know.”
Grandpa: “You don’t know!?!”
His closing advice was “Think with your head, not with your heart.” (But I’m not so sure he ever listened to it himself…)

We ended up having quite a lovely Thanksgiving, even though this has been The Year of Holiday Catastrophes (the Mother’s Day Dog Disaster, the drama surrounding Halloween… I’m thinking of getting my family a bomb shelter for Christmas at this point.) Oh, and after my family left (and I stayed behind, hehe), the C’s came over! Which was wildly fun, and involved mad hairdos and an improvised play. Then it was time for Black Friday.

Which was really still Thursday in my opinion.

I mean, I know it started at midnight, but this entire thing felt like one neverending day. Anyway, we went to Kohl’s. Waiting in line outside, we talked, and did weird voices, and Eliza and Bug started singing something that I can’t even spell onomatopoetically (nor can I spell ‘onomatopeotically’ itself, don’t judge) and dancing. Then the line moved! Then we got in! Then we ran upstairs and went straight to the shoes area, where Bug snatched a pair of boots, tried them on, and decided yes, all in under four seconds. I stood with one foot on the box and pretended to be Napoleon (or someone like that) while Bug looked for more shoes. Then we went on to the rest of the upstairs, and then downstairs, and then all in squiggly lines. We tried on a few items (yes, we did, despite it being against Mom’s “Black Friday Rules”), and then stood in line for what did not feel like such a long time, and then we were out of there. My big purchases?
A pair of tights. Also a shirt.
Wow!

We went home and fell asleep for five hours, and then we got up early to go to a resale shop and Goodwill. (I know, wow again! We also wished that we could pop into a couple of used-book stores. All during Black Friday I kept yelling, “BLACK FRIDAY: SHEETS!! YAAAAHHH!” Or “SOCKS!! YAAAAHHHH!” or whatever else we ended up getting.) After that, we all took a nap in the sunshine upstairs.

Oh, and then I had to go to work.
Yeeeeahhh.

Having Eliza back, and hanging out and talking (oftentimes about Little Dorrit, which has risen way, way above and beyond obsession status, believe me– Bug and I have decided that it’s eaten our brains, and we have resigned ourselves to the fact that we’ll probably spend the rest of our young lives talking about it) (so much so that I could not even wrap up this post without mentioning it. Jeez Louise.) and being crazy and being together… it was just so good.

Whew. That was a long post.
Yours,
Pen

then how shall I begin?

So, the train thing was a dud.

Mom and I feel bad because every time we take Bug somewhere, it turns out to be a fail. (“You have Fail Mail,” Poncho kept saying on Sunday. I don’t really know what that means, but that’s Poncho for you.) There is only one place that cannot– must not!– end up a failure. I wanted to take Bug to PJ MacIntyre’s, aka home of the best homemade potato chips and shepherd’s pie ever. Maybe taking Bug just causes the unexpected to happen… Not neccessarily something bad unexpected, just something we never saw coming. (Like meeting the Mythological Rory, perhaps?) It’s physics, people.

On Monday, Bug, Poncho, and I jumped through a glorious pile of leaves! Poor Bill (who was sick– so we really did all say “Poor Bill!”) had raked them out of the front, but instead of putting them on the curb, he saved them in the backyard for us. I think he deserves hearty applause for that. The sky was perfectly blue and the leaves were bright, flaming yellow and the day was seventy degrees and we had a fab time somersaulting through, burying each other, and getting leaves permanently tangled in our hair.

Also, I have been preparing for All Saints’ Day… On Monday I started making a saint collage, which is a project I have not attempted since a very young age (and back then I became grouchy at it). Yesterday, I finally picked a saint to dress as. I can’t tell you who, seeing as it’s top secret, but I can say that I made this as my costume’s most important feature:

Yup. It’s a gold tooth on a chain.

Thank you, polymer clay and gold paint.

Wait a minute… Two posts in a row that include a picture?!?! What!?!?
Oh, what the heck.
More!

In Kentucky, looking downhill.
(Unless you’re Bug. Then you’re just looking cool.)
This picture looks like a movie still to me. An artsy coming-of-age film about… um, artsy kids coming of age? (Aaaand I’m sticking to writing novels.)
Fast forward: we’re at the beach and– Oh hey look, a random seagull!
The three of us getting splashed by the tide. Sigh!

 

 

Oh, and I must tell you who took these lovely snaps: Francis! Well, maybe Eliza took the seagull one. All I know is, it wasn’t me. I like to pretend that the reason I don’t take pictures is because I “live in the moment”, but it’s actually because I suck at taking pictures of anything other than moss and bark.

 And gold teeth, apparently.