Goodbye Summer
Lately, my life has felt like a freight train, hurtling, out of control, moving forward but not entirely sure of the destination. Nuts and bolts slowly lose their grip and fly outward, the track gets hot from the speed. My head gets murky and it is hard to prioritize with all that loud clattering.
All I want to do is dig in my garden, lie in the sun, read the New Yorker, do some yoga - anything except sitting at that computer, clacking away, snipping and massaging frames and compressing and uploading and posting. Blargh.
Sometimes your body forces you to slow down. Three all nighters can be a little rough on anyone's system so a cold/fever gave me the permission I was looking for to chill out just a wee bit this weekend.
In my case, that means watching every last remaining episode of Battlestar Gallactica, apple picking, devouring HOT cider donuts, a moonlight tree house chat and one final swim on the LAST DAY of summer with Molly Hill.
The air smells SO GOOD right now - a touch of pine, the last gasp of summer vegetation and fresh dirt. The weather is weird and hot, windy and blustery, and chilly at night. It seems inevitable that something wicked this way comes...
This town has begun to feel very small but not in a bad sort of way. One Thursday night can mean a variety show in a hidden studio populated by many talented people, TWO CD release parties and an art opening. And the crazy thing is that you can GO to all FOUR events, easily find parking, eat some tid bits and run into people that you know. Small towns have some cool perks.
This weekend in new homeowner land, I rummaged a salvage dump, created an artful window lock, put together my parent's ancient wooden carved bureau that comes complete with candle holders, stained some cabinets and a bookcase and used my new drill!
I love working on my house. Every minute I spend on it feels like a little slice of heaven. Almost as tasty as those sugar-covered fresh cider donuts that I gobbled up straight out of the oven at Shelburne Orchards.
So I go forward again, not entirely derailed but lagging behind just a little bit, what is coming up around the next bend?
6 comments:
Well, I relate to all of this. Sometimes I think I look forward to long plane trips only to catch up on The New Yorker.
Oh Mr Thief, shouldn't we of the deadbeats and the caretakers of junk be bored ones? we should be populating opium dens, lounging around kiddie pools and gawking at passersby. ah well.
did you read that good bit about DV in the fashion issue? I LOAF HER! NOW GET OAT!
wow, missing a wednesday lunch and i feel like i've missed so much. you seem so melancholy my dear. i can't wait to see your old furniture and the new touches. miss you!
I miss you too Suz! But if it rains Wed, you might be seeing me after all so cross your fingers for storms! And we can always catch up while painting my stairs green! ;)
The treehouse was perfect. If we had a couple of sleeping bags and a flashlight we could've slept out there. Except I know how you are when the lights are out *ahem* ALL HANDS.
I think you should put on your favorite sad CD and lay down for a good cry. But then get back up and kick some editing ASS soldier because this living stuff ain't for sissies.
YES SIR!
sniffle, me and celine dion have a hot date. just a couple o' bars of "my heart will go on" and i will be a sniveling mess. then i can resume my clicking and clacking, renewed and refreshed!
next time, we gotta bring sleeping bags, or better yet, sleep in our towels/party gowns. i bring snacks, you bring machetes.
and watch out for mr octopus...he only comes out when the lights go out and little Mollys close their eyes...
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