damsel in distress...

Illustration by Henri Faivre

Sometimes, when things are going along just swimmingly, there may, at some point, be something which appears altogether wrong/ out of place/ not in sync. I'm trying hard not to focus on such things. For instance, if I walk into a room which is perfectly clean and tidy, it may, perchance, come to my attention that there is a painting on the wall which is slightly askew. Now, if the room were a disaster, would I have noticed? Probably not; I'd probably be too busy noticing some other more bothersome annoyance. So this is what I'm trying to teach myself to remember. When, sometimes, there is some very irksome thing, think, why is that so bothersome? And the answer is... because it's not in harmony with the whole. Why is it not in harmony with the whole? Because it is a wrong in a room full of right. Seriously, you can't expect to have it all! And what joy that there is but one grievance! This is brilliant! Now, when I walk into a room which is chock-full o' congruence, I shall say, 'Wow! Just look at how nicely that sofa lines up with that coffee table; and isn't it lovely how the rug, too, agrees with the set pattern of lines!' And in so doing, I shall be at peace with my surroundings. Now, that being said, sometimes that one thing which is out of place may be, say, a wolf who wants to eat you, or Hitler. I'm thinking on a bit wider scale now. I was just thinking how sometimes it is not good to turn a blind eye to things which are begging to be adjusted. (Hitler was the first thing that came to mind.) I don't want to lead anyone astray here. If your crooked picture is Hitler, by all means, straighten it.

 

ode to milkman...

So, I never told you before, but we have a milkman. This guy named Dan comes to our house every Wednesday and leaves 6 glass bottles of cold milk with various colored plastic caps. He picks up 6 empty glass bottles and carts them back to his big white milk truck, all the while the dogs are going berzerk. It's really fun. We call him Dan the Milkman. I've never met him before, actually, because I'm always in my pj's when he comes, but Ben met him once. But I've always liked Dan, just because. I mean come on, he's a milkman. How many milkmen do you think there are in the world? Not too many, I dare say. And he always comes right on time, bearing delicious gifts for hungry cereal eaters and anxious coffee drinkers. I know you'll probably think I'm silly, but having a milkman has been one of the joys of life. To be quite honest, I wish that Dan the Milkman would trade in his big white milk truck for a horse and milk cart like Reb Tevye. Well, this is not meant to be a sad post, but the time has come to say goodbye to Dan the Milkman. Working at Whole Foods means we're going to get 20% off milk, and we won't need home delivery if I can just bring the stuff home. So that's that. But I thought to myself, we can't just let Dan the Milkman slip away without a word or two for posterity. Don't worry, I'm not really going to make a rhyme about Dan. I thought I might at first, just so I could keep this catchy title, but I'm not going to. Would you believe me if I told you I don't even know what he looks like. I just felt that it was too silly to peep through the curtain to catch a glimpse, and I'm usually too busy trying to quiet the dogs, so Dan can do his job in peace. But I'm kind of glad of that really- to just let Dan live in my imagination as a stereotype.

Ps. Believe it or not, I wrote this post before I knew this pic had a horse in the background. I've been wanting to blog about the milkman for a while now, so one day I saw a retro pic of a milkman & saved it without ever having noticed the horse. Everytime I think of that pic, I just see that smily milkman. It's funny to me, because I felt silly for mentioning that bit about the milk cart (even though it is true). But, when I went to retrieve the pic and saw the horse in the background, I just thought that was neat. That happens to me all the time, by the way- where the Lord blesses me in some trifling way that just sounds ridiculous if I try to explain it to someone; so I've sort of given up trying to tell people those things. Sometime, when my post script isn't getting way too long, maybe I'll tell you more (since I know I can trust you), but not now, I really gotta go.

 

go forth to the dances of the merrymakers...

So what is it with the long titles?! Sheesh! When you wake up with catchy tunes from My Fair Lady swimming around in your noggin, you know it's going to be a happy day! Do you ever say really dumb stuff when you really don't need to say anything at all? Or maybe a simple 'good morning' would suffice, but you end up blurting out your whole life story. I have a problem in this area. Too much. Too soon. So, I'm feeling a little nervous about meeting all those new people next week. Normally, if people think you're a weirdo, they just walk away, but what happens when you're tethered together with people in the workplace and they can't leave? Or even worse, what if they are the weirdo! Wait. I retract that last statement. I don't think I'll have a problem with that. Unless they're like scary strange, that's different. I have so much to do today. I don't know what I'm doing sitting around here talking to myself. Am I the only one who has controversial, introspective, reasonings that beg to be delivered up to the public every morning? I don't just think thoughts, they pour out of me like so much helium squealing out of a party balloon, leaving me all deflated and rumpled up on the floor. Get up you flimsy little fribble and frolic for goodness sake! Think lofty thoughts, get some fresh air, and hold your breath as long as you can, then you can dance until dawn with the merrymakers. Speaking of making merry, Emmeli has found a new station on Pandora. She listens to it non-stop, and she has infected us all with her merriment. There's one particular song, which I think is Alvin and the chipmunks singing Old Macdonald in Spanish, very catchy. Honestly, you can not worry about anything when you hear this stuff. She's been uping (now there's a word you won't find in the dictionary; fribble by the way is in the dictionary, if you use the right dictionary) all the classic, vintage Disney scores and really has created something special. People are no longer asking her to turn it off, which is interesting. Every once in a while it brings up a song from movies like Fiddler on the Roof or My Fair Lady, which is why I now have those songs stuck in my head. Okay, we've come full circle now and we're back to happy little ditties. This is where I get off.

Ps. The soundtrack from "The Artist" is lovely for happy mornings. It was introduced to Em by another of her beloved stations- the "Ratatouille" station.

 

it is much like that with me as well...

So, I think I have said it once before, but sometimes I say things twice, just to be sure. In some other cases, I don't say anything at all and just expect you to know what I'm thinking. I understand this can be very frustrating and I apologize. Before I reiterate, though, just let me also apologize in advance for any peculiarities in speech. I recently watched The King and I, and I think, as a result, it has damaged my ability to speak properly. Anyway, I am not so much in the mood for writing this morning. It's this picture which has forced me here. I found it yesterday & I wanted to deposit it here right away.The thing you may remember me having said once before is this: that pictures usually come as an afterthought in this blogging process; hardly ever do I actually have the picture first and then try to fit in the words. I hope this makes clear to you, then, that this particular picture holds, with me, some significance. In fact, I really think the intended sentiment is so glaringly obvious, that words may here actually serve as an impediment to its meaningfulness. If you have ever been to my house early in the morning or sometime after dinner, then you know precisely what it is that I'm not telling you. If you have not had that pleasure, then I can see that this blog shall be terribly annoying for you.

 

ready or not...

It is time for me to find my inner morning person. I got the job at Whole Foods. (That is assuming I pass the criminal check.) I'm really rather excited to get up and go to work every morning! Is that weird?! I'm sure it'll wear off soon enough. So this is the dawn of a new day and somehow it feels like it needs a proper slogan, though I don't know what that would be. There really is something about working outside the home that makes a person feel official. Why is that? I know what it is, actually. It's that we've all been brainwashed. Honestly, I believe that staying home and raising your own children is the way to go. I, for one, am perfectly happy at home. But now that I know I've got a job, what is this feel that has me visualizing myself as some swampy thing resurfacing from the underground? Looking at myself, I find that very backwards and strange. So maybe we are a bit underground, but it's not swampy! Infact, it's more like I'm heading out into the swamp; and I think I'm going to need some muck boots. I'd like to rewire that thought right now. I'm starting to wonder if that whole "a woman's place is in the home" era wasn't enacted as a measure of reverse psychology for women. If we tell woman her place is in the home, maybe she'll want to go to work! Well anyway, I don't know why I'm so gumptiony this morning. And, no, I'm not having second thoughts about the job. I just found it a bit odd that I was having even an inkling of self-worth in regards to heading out into the workplace. (Here is where I insert the definition of inkling so as to be clear and not embarrass myself as a result of mine own undisguised frankness.) {Inkling: a half-light; a glimmer; a misty haze; a dim, faded, almost unrecognizable, infinitesimal speck of a shadow, covered up and resting under a pillow.} Nevertheless, there was an inkling and it caught my attention, so I felt the need to wrestle away his little pillow and shoo him out the window. Come to think of it, maybe all this wrestling is somehow related to feeling guilty about sleeping in. Anyway, it does feel nice to pitch in, and I feel really so very blessed that everything has worked out so perfectly with the hours and whatnot. The whole thing is really quite doable. All I have to do is get up early. It's a small price to pay. And we get to keep the lizards. All in all, I think it's a grand way to do it, if it must be done. In conclusion I'd like to say: though I am looking forward to doing something new (simply because I like mixing things up a bit every now and then), it's important for me to know that you know that I have no aspirations to be a modern woman. And whatever other little inklings there are out there, don't get too comfy, I'm onto you.