i keep starting posts and deleting them. seems i'm in some sort of writing limbo-miasma: everything i write seems dull and boring. things happen and i try to write about them, i bore myself to tears, and delete, then worry about not writing enough, thus getting more and more out of touch with How One Writes. list time perhaps? get them writing chops warmed up with a short and easy numbered exercise? because, heaven help me, whatever comes out of my brain today is getting published.
things that have happened:
1. i got a mysterious bite on my wrist on saturday. huuuge red welt that grew instead of disappearing. i very strongly recommend that if you get a mysterious welty red bite, whatever happens, DO NOT GOOGLE IMAGE "brown recluse spider bites." you will need a stiff drink if you do. and i don't guarantee you'll be able to keep it down.
2. it's not a brown recluse spider bite. i will not lose my arm to necrosis. it's all fine now. (i realise i'm cheating by making this a separate point but i did it to create suspense and tension and make you wonder if i lost my appendage to arachnid-induced gangrene. this is called "a good writing technique for creating suspense and tension.")
3. i have given in to the reality of my present geographical situation and spelled my name with a zee* the other day because i realised that it is not up to me to educate a poor drugstore clerk in the realities of comparative linguistics.
4. i realised i need more thin flowy sacs to wear in this weather. i have never been able to understand why women, who have the cultural prerogative to wear dresses, would choose to wear jeans, shorts, or capris in hot weather. when it's hot i wanna have a breeze everywhere i can. no pants for this gal: IT'S TOO FUCKING HOT TO HAVE MY CROTCH ENTOMBED THUSLY!
5. i am following the american election with growing fear and trepidation. i find american people (as far as you can make a sweeping generalisation about any people) to be kind, warm, welcoming, and friendly. to see the trump camp get so thoroughly brainwashed as to think that this belligerent semi-sentient toupee is some kind of saviour breaks my heart. to see race, sexual orientation, religion, abortion etc. become political rallying cries in this day and age is nothing short of shocking. there's so much more to say about this but this isn't that kind of blog and i really don't wanna expend any more of my energy on this than i already have. gong show doesn't begin to describe it.
6. since the first big rains, the woodlands are in bloom! trees, that mere weeks ago looked like they were ready for the firewood pile, are turning a glorious fresh shiny shade of green. flowers are spilling over roadsides in crazy carpets of colours. along with pink snapdragons and blue lupins (locally known as bluebonnets), there are masses of scarlet flax, so i no longer have to scratch my head** when i look at photos of zhoen's garden.
7. the house has just passed an inspection with a very satisfactory grade, so we're one step closer to calling it home. various appendages remain crossed because i seem unable to let go of this superstitious side of me.
*i may have said before, so forgive me if i repeat myself: i have no problem with zed being zee in the usa. i do have a serious problem with almost nobody in the usa knowing what zed is. if an american comes to canada and spells something with a zee, we will know exactly what she means. when a canadian comes to america and spells something with a zed, she gets a blank stare. seriously? how can people be so utterly unaware of the fact that the last letter of the alphabet is pronounced zed in every single other english-speaking nation as well as those that speak spanish, french, polish etc.?
**flax has always been a thing of a beautiful and unquestionable blueness. scarlet flax would be akin to a flying chicken or a 4-legged snake in my worldview, prior to my botanical enlightenment.