Wednesday, August 30, 2017

you know you could have been some perfume

The house remodeling continues apace.  The insulation is in the walls now and it's interesting what a difference it has already made in the noise level, even though the windows are still gaping holes to the outside, letting flies and wasps in all the time.  

I took vicious pleasure in seeing Joel Osteen get thoroughly and rightfully shamed into opening his church to flood evacuees.  Locking your doors to the poor and needy and lying about why you're doing it is not a great look for a pastor.  It's almost like he cares about money and power and not the gospel of Jesus Christ?  So weird...

Today is John's birthday and I've made him an ice cream cake, which is what the weirdos at my house always want, except Ike, who is even more weird and always requests a cake made out of stuffing.  I made my own cake for my birthday just so I could have a real cake for a change.  I chose carrot cake and it was quite delicious--I made two sheet cakes and layered them because layer cakes are correct.  Anyway, back to John's cake--I got bourbon butter pecan for one of the flavors and it is super boozy, and probably the whole cake is ruined now.  Bourbon is a rough flavor for me to handle because it's so fruity.  Bleh.  

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

truly dear

John and the boys got home on Saturday from their backpacking trip to the Wind Rivers.  Willa and I stayed home because I had just been gone for two and a half weeks and I could not be gone another day--I had to go to work and I had to make some house decisions.  Also I detest camping, especially the kind of camping where I can't shower for three days and I have to poop in the woods.  Camping in the best of circumstances is still terrible, and I always wake up hours before I want to, having to pee, and I lie miserably in my sleeping bag trying to go back to sleep until finally it's urgent and I have to stagger out into the freezing pre-dawn to the nearest outhouse which is never that near and I get dirt all over my feet.  Not for me, thanks.  But John and the boys had a wonderful time and supposedly it was very beautiful.  On their way out they passed thousands of people going up into the basin they were leaving, because it was in the zone of totality for the August 21st total solar eclipse.  I guess they should have just stayed a few extra days.  But then we wouldn't have been together for the eclipse, and what if the rapture had happened?  I would have been so cross.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

was our castle and our keep

We're building on to our house, so it will now be a 1 1/2-story Craftsman instead of a 1-story Craftsman.  I feel like it always wanted to be that way, and I've been imagining it and drawing  it ever since we moved in almost twelve years ago.  Of course it's insanely expensive, but only about half as much as it would be to build a new house of similar size and quality.  I was lucky enough to find an architect and a builder who both understood my vision and how important it was to me to preserve the Craftsman identity of my house.

I know it's greedy of me to want a bigger house, and greedier still to spend the kind of money I'm spending to make sure it "looks right." I was conflicted about it for a long time.  I might need that money to rehome refugees or hide people from the gestapo, and here I was, making a big old American house like the big old American woman that I am.  But unsurprisingly I was able to get over that concern and build my big old house.  Yay for self-justification!  If hiding people becomes necessary we'll figure something out.  As they say somewhere, probably England, cheer up, it may never happen.

In related news, the lawn and garden are thrashed, possibly beyond recovery.  We had to put in a new septic system, the flower beds are all squished, my river birch is probably dead, and the lawn hasn't been watered since the beginning of July because there's always wood stacked on it.  It's pretty grim, and it's going to be a monumental effort bringing it back.  It's okay though, because bindweed has infiltrated the front garden and it's so hard to control that it's probably better just to start over.

I got an email that my trees have shipped--I ordered a bunch of trees that are hard to find around here.  They come as little bare root sticks, and I'm just planting them for fun because they were super cheap.  If I get a decent ginkgo--or even better, a katsura--out of this experiment, it will be well worth the $35 I spent.

Friday, August 18, 2017

pain and panic at your service

What to even say.

I have a hard time believing this is the country I've grown up in, until I think back on what my country actually is and then it makes sense after all.  One of the most frustrating things about being an idealistic American is that when I look honestly at our nation's history I see that we've never really been the country we claim to be.  We've had a few shining moments when we did the right thing, when we championed our founding ideals, but it was often either too little too late, or motivated by the wrong reasons.

I've had no desire to post anything on this here blog for a really long time, and the election and its results just made everything worse.  I started this blog however many years ago now because I had stopped writing in my journal, and I wanted to get back into the habit, because I do think keeping some kind of record of one's life is important.  Record keeping is encouraged in Mormonism--in fact, I'm teaching a lesson about it this Sunday.  So I decided that in order to live up to my own ideals and to be a better example for my students I would start writing again.  Despite my frustration and embarrassment in the moral failings of my elected leaders, my terror at the direction our country is taking, my dread that we can't actually do anything to stop the rising tide of chaos, and my nihilist impulse to just sit back and let the animals and the intelligent machines band together and obliterate us all--despite all of these roiling emotions--I will do better.  I will write and record what I can and maybe I'll end up chronicling the final, deserved total annihilation of humanity.