So things are progressing with the big move. One week from today I will be, let's see... somewhere near Flagstaff. Then I'll be in Lubbock for the weekend. Then it's Austin.
Over the next week I'll be packing, weeding out everything I don't need and just generally freaking out.
In addition to the general, non-specific freak-out are the major things that keep going wrong. To wit: Leander had to take an emergency trip to the vet; I got really bad food poisoning Monday night; one of my school loans is experiencing some really fun upheaval that I won't get into but which is biting me in the ass; and I have to sort my books.
I know this last one doesn't sound like a big deal, but it is, my friend. It is. I'm a writer, damnit. And I should not be asked to have to ever let go of a book that has in any way, shape or form contributed to my craft, my world view, or most importantly, my sense of humor. Nevertheless, right now my requirement is that I must have picked it up to reread it or reference it in some way within the last two years, otherwise it goes. So, that's been quite a few of them, because John Grisham has written some stinkers, and I don't absolutely have to have that book on interviewing that I loved in college. But, that's actually been one of the many, many things rotating through my mind as I try to fall asleep at night. Should I get rid of these things? If they've shaped me in any way, shouldn't I hold on to them?
But today I realized what I need to be appreciating about this move: the ability to cleanse, and through that the ability to be the woman who I really want to be. By going to live in this town that I've always considered home, I'm being a more honest representation of myself. And this small thing -- only keeping the books that I really need and use -- there's something very honest about that, something much closer to what that happy Austinite looks like.
Still. I do think I'll hold onto Creative Interviewing.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Bird Dance of the Hunter
My cousins (Heather and Sara) were visiting a couple of weeks ago, and they brought Heather's seven-year-old Madison and two-year-old Hunter. First of all, this was an insanely fun and insanely dysfunctional week. Many, many, many things went horribly awry. But, overall, I'm hoping we'll remember it fondly.
Actually, I know that I will. Because what I keep thinking back on was the little old man bird dance.
The Saturday night that they were in town, I had my friend Annette (who is also from Texas) over and we made pizza. Well, more accurately, Annette (who has taught the first grade and was really, very good at it) and Madison made the pizzas.
Hunter has a touch of what the professionals call "separation anxiety." Translated for the lay person: he screams like he's being pinched every time Heather leaves the room. Sara did that when she was a kid, which we remind her of constantly. No reason to add that. But she did. Remember that, Sara? We do.
Anyway, while we're hanging out watching Nette and Maddie make the pies, Heather is slipping out the back door every so often to get some laundry done before they had to leave the next night. At one point, we're all in the living room and Heather slips out. This time, Hunter observes this, and starts to get a little worked up. Annette observes this and the fact that five seconds before Hunter had been randomly sprinting around the room. So, being the amazing child communicator that she is, she too starts randomly running around the room.
She's running around and she's yelling that this is really fun, that she forgot how much fun it was to run around willy-nilly. And, needless to say, this has gotten Madison and Hunter's attention, and they both need little encouragement to adopt the willy-nilly behavior as well. And here comes the absolute best part of the evening.
As a part of the general merriment, Hunter starts doing this little dance. Picture what a little old man looks like when he's hunched over, and has his hands clutched together behind his back. Now picture a two-year-old imitating that while kind of marching in circles. Yeah, it was that awesome.
There's this little man who's caught the vibe that it's time to get silly and is offering his contribution. He's got this look of concentration as he slowly turns, arms behind him, bent at the waist. This little purposeful revelry.
That was, by far, my absolute favorite part of the entire week. This sweet, quiet boy who can read a room and entertain it perfectly, all the while keeping an eye on the back door and the return of his number one fan. (Who upon entering with her load of clothes, saw us laughing to the point of tears and asked, "Did Hunter do his bird dance?")
Actually, I know that I will. Because what I keep thinking back on was the little old man bird dance.
The Saturday night that they were in town, I had my friend Annette (who is also from Texas) over and we made pizza. Well, more accurately, Annette (who has taught the first grade and was really, very good at it) and Madison made the pizzas.
Hunter has a touch of what the professionals call "separation anxiety." Translated for the lay person: he screams like he's being pinched every time Heather leaves the room. Sara did that when she was a kid, which we remind her of constantly. No reason to add that. But she did. Remember that, Sara? We do.
Anyway, while we're hanging out watching Nette and Maddie make the pies, Heather is slipping out the back door every so often to get some laundry done before they had to leave the next night. At one point, we're all in the living room and Heather slips out. This time, Hunter observes this, and starts to get a little worked up. Annette observes this and the fact that five seconds before Hunter had been randomly sprinting around the room. So, being the amazing child communicator that she is, she too starts randomly running around the room.
She's running around and she's yelling that this is really fun, that she forgot how much fun it was to run around willy-nilly. And, needless to say, this has gotten Madison and Hunter's attention, and they both need little encouragement to adopt the willy-nilly behavior as well. And here comes the absolute best part of the evening.
As a part of the general merriment, Hunter starts doing this little dance. Picture what a little old man looks like when he's hunched over, and has his hands clutched together behind his back. Now picture a two-year-old imitating that while kind of marching in circles. Yeah, it was that awesome.
There's this little man who's caught the vibe that it's time to get silly and is offering his contribution. He's got this look of concentration as he slowly turns, arms behind him, bent at the waist. This little purposeful revelry.
That was, by far, my absolute favorite part of the entire week. This sweet, quiet boy who can read a room and entertain it perfectly, all the while keeping an eye on the back door and the return of his number one fan. (Who upon entering with her load of clothes, saw us laughing to the point of tears and asked, "Did Hunter do his bird dance?")
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
July 10th-ish
So in the last week, my car has been impounded, my roommate's told me she's moving out in five days, my cell phone's been ripped in half (by a 2-year-old), and I've had my first migraine. It's time to get the hell out of here.
I thought I was going to be moving back to Austin in August, but things have progressed without me, and it's looking now like I'll be moving the first week in July. Yeah. I know. I'm pretty freaked by just how quickly that will be here.
I thought I was going to be moving back to Austin in August, but things have progressed without me, and it's looking now like I'll be moving the first week in July. Yeah. I know. I'm pretty freaked by just how quickly that will be here.
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