LaFrittata

My LaFrittata was partly inspired by hunger, a surplus of egg and also a Pioneer Woman recipe.  

So here's what I used:

Cheese - 1.5 cups of mozzarella also a bit of feta for the top
Eggs - 12
Asparagus - 2 cups, cut up and frozen
Onions - 2 cups, cut up and frozen
Baked potatoes - 3 whole ones to be cut up
Hot Sauce - 1 tablespoon
Garlic Pepper - lots
Salt - lots and lots
Olive Oil - several drizzles
Butter - a small hunk

And here's what I did:

First I had Dad microwave-bake three potatoes (one at a time). Once nuked, I put them in the freezer to cool them down. Next, I sauteed the asparagus and onions with the olive oil and butter in a large stove top skillet. I seasoned these with garlic-pepper and salt. 

While letting that cook on a pretty high setting, I beat up a dozen eggs and stole their lunch money! To the egg stuffs I added the mozzarella and also some fiesta blend cheeses as well as the hot sauce. Then I set that shit aside. I grabbed the potatoes from the freezer (they were still hot!) and used a knife and potholder to manhandle the little fuckers until they were cut into smaller chunks. I added those to the asparagus and onions and added a little more seasoning. 

I poured the egg mixture slowly into the pan until it covered all the fixings. Using a giant ass lid, I covered the skillet and let it cook for... I think about 20 minutes. I'm a very exact chef as you can tell. When the egg stuff looked almost completely firm I sprinkled feta cheese all over the top, put the lid back on, and then moved the skillet off the hot burner and let it cook with its residual heat for another ten minutes. 

The result:

So. Fucking. Good. 

Fuck me Gently with a Chainsaw and How to tell if an Engineer is an Extrovert

Dear Diary, my teenage angst bullshit has a body count. Or something like that. It has been a very long time since I've updated this blog. In a few words: things have been busy. But it's when things are busiest that we must remind ourselves to slow down and smell the roses. Or the Cupcake Petunia's at Walmart. I smelled those today and wanted to roll around naked in their petals they smelled so damn good. So here I am, taking a moment to breathe and center myself. 

There have been some very large changes in my life. Hannah and I have an apartment. We have a date for the wedding! (Friday the 13th in October 2017, if you must know.) I got a promotion at work. I'm a Lead now and I like it. And I loathe it. Pretty normal for being a Lead I suppose. I've joined in several D&D campaigns. In January I led the Wolf Moon Esbat Ritual and it was one of the most magickal Moons I've ever had. Such energy, such howling! I'm starting to practice Tai Chi and I have a Yoga DVD that helps women with menstrual pain.

David Bowie died. 

This spring Hannah and I planted several pots of flowers and created an herb wall on the back patio. I'm very impatient. Waiting for green is making me crazy.

As for writing, I'm lagging off in a bad way. Matthias is never far from my thoughts. Neither is Brom, the artist, who, as of late, has been my constant inspiration. Beltane happened recently. I celebrated with so many lovely people. There was a Wedding too. And I danced and sweated and drank and ate pizza and cinnamon rolls and honored the gods and gave myself over to the spirit of the season. As a result I'm ready to get. shit. done.

Also I'll be stepping off the Pagan Ministry Council next week. I want to do it in person. Hannah already resigned a few days ago. It was a rather large decision for her and there was some fall out that we had to deal with last night that made for a rough time. At this point in our lives though, the energy we're putting into the logistical side of the IEPG is just too damn much. We need to be working on school, work, writing, keeping our home and hearth happy and welcoming. We need to actually spend time together every once in a while. 

And something really cool happened a few moment ago out back. I went outside to water the herbs and flowers and I found half of a Robin's eggshell nestled under the Cosmos flowers. My Cosmos flowers that I planted on Ostara. It probably ended up there during the random and gorgeous thunderstorm we had last night. The little shell, so fragile, so blue, just sitting there as if to say that fragility is an illusion. Reminding me of new life. Of leaving old shells behind. I took the little shell inside and put it on the altar next to Freyja. But the eggshell wasn't my only gift from the goddess: some of the herbs that I'd figured weren't going to grow at all, have actually sprouted. I'm not sure what is what but I know that about five pouches from the herb wall are actually going to grow to fruition. I'm not holding out much hope for the Lavender but the fact that anything is growing makes me smile. 

At work I talk to some really awful, bitter beasts. But I also talk to sweet and wonderful people. One of these sweethearts called up for a vacation stop and while I was entering the information, he shared a few jokes with me. In turn I shared a few with him. The first one he told though, is my favorite: "How can you tell if an Engineer is extroverted? When you're talking with him, he stares at your shoes instead of his own." Some of you will giggle and some of you will frown and say, 'I don't really get it.' And that is why this joke is my favorite. 

Something Kind of Amazing Happened

Narcisa napping.

I went to change the water in the cat's water dish.  It's a pretty cool water dish - it has a filter that catches degree and also softens the water for the little beasts.  Also they love it because the middle of the dish bubbles up in a gentle fountain that they enjoy playing in.  And when I say 'they' I mean Narcisa, of course. 

You can get one of these bad boys on Amazon.

Periodically the dish has to be cleaned and the filter changed.  Well, I am ashamed to admit that I let it go a little long between cleanings this time - probably two or three weeks.  I usually clean it once a week if I'm on top of things.  This last month was a total bust and this month hasn't been too much better.  So, suffice it to say, the cat dish was neglected.  We kept it full of water of course, but it needed some love.

Here's the filter.  See the frilly bits around the edges...

Tonight I picked it up and went to the sink to do just that.  When I opened it up and looked at the large filter and saw a few smudges of food particles (pretty typical) and then something that looked like a long blade of grass.  I rinsed the filter and then shook it trying to dislodge the grass.  But it was stuck.  So I tugged it a little.  That's when I saw that it wasn't a blade of grass (and how the hell would a blade of grass ended up in their water dish anyway?) it was a small plant.  It was the very first shoot of a baby plant!  Somehow a seed had gotten into their water dish and become stuck in the fuzz of the filter.  And then it sprouted.  I saw little roots twisted into the edge of the filter and a small blackish seed/bean from where the roots and sprout all came from.  

I will get a real picture later - this gives you an idea of what it looks like.

I couldn't believe it.  I gently removed it from the filter, pulling some of the filter away instead of harming the cute little plant.  It grew in the cat's water dish!  Of all places.  How the hell did this happen?  Well, let me take you back to a year ago when Hannah and I went to our first event with the Inland Empire Pagan Guild. We went to Ostara (Easter). We met lots of people and got to participate in a Heathen themed ritual. It was nerve wracking because we didn't really know anyone, but at the same time it was a great deal of fun.  Enough fun that we kept coming back. During that first event, however, we joined the younger crowd and decorated egg cut outs with seeds. We glued millet, lentils, small red beans, and a variety of other beans onto the little papers.  We made three of them in total.

This is NOT what we made at Ostara.  We did something similar, but in an
 egg shape and far less detailed. Again, this is just to give you an idea.

When we got home, Hannah and I pinned them to the wall in the living room where they have stayed through all the changing holidays and seasons (they'll be back in season in a month, mind you!). Somehow one of the seeds must have fallen into the water dish which is located below it in the living room.  Either it fell or Narcisa jumped and batted at the eggs until she knocked something loose. The latter is probably what happened.  I think it was one of the red beans that fell but I can't be sure.  All that is left of the water soak and germinating seed/bean is a fuzzy black spot.

The middle one!  That's what I think fell into the dish.
I will investigate further when I transplant the little baby.

I still can't believe this little seed grew in this environment. It had no light and was completely submerged in water and yet it grew. That seed/bean was glued to a piece of paper for almost a year and yet... it grew. I talked to it and called it 'little baby' as I rushed around the kitchen and dining room trying to figure out how to save it!  In the end I borrowed some soil from our Christmas Cactus and put the seed and the soil into a small jam jar (something I'd been holding onto since Christmas).  I saturated the soil - I'm not exactly afraid of drowning it since that's all it's known it's whole life thus far! - and now I have it placed safely on the altar in the bedroom.  If it keeps growing (as I dearly hope it will) I'm going to get some fresh soil from the store and transplant it.  I'm not sure how long bean plants live.  I figure they wither after a season, but for while this plant is alive, I'm determined to keep it healthy and happy.   

To quote Jurassic Park: "Life finds a way."

Bills, Maps, and the Lessons of Water

I got the bill finally from the whole hospital fiasco.  As it stands I'm over $5,000 in debt to Kootenai Health.  Next step is to go in and get the debt settled as much as possible.  In other news, I've been applying like mad for some other job.  It's so frustrating because I do really enjoy my job and I really love some of the people I work with.  But I can't survive on nothing and that's pretty much what this job pays.  It's a blessing that I'm still getting the pay increase for now but soon that'll be gone just like my hours are pretty much gone and then I'll really be up shit creek.  

In other, other news: I drew a map for my dystopian novel and I'm really quite proud of it.  I am either going to use colored pencils or watercolor to give it some life but I think I want to make a copy/scan of it first just in case I totally ruin it in the effort of trying to make it pretty.  Like the image below.

Last night was the Spirituality Circle in Spokane.  We talked about the element of water and it was really interesting and got my creative juices flowing quite a bit.  I have a great many things I want to do so that I can incorporate water into my daily ritual for health in body and spirits. 

Talking about water at the Circle brought up some really cool memories for me.  Cool and humbling I should say.  When I first went to Germany to volunteer for the Girl Scouts Overseas, I learned to canoe down the Main River (pronounced like 'mine').  Starunner, Eeek, and I (my camp name was/is Quetzal) all joined forces as team Colorado during the test run down the river.  We boasted of our natural talents having come from the land of white water and how we were going to show our prowess as Canoe Queens.  Well, of course, Team Colorado tipped right on over into the river.  We were the only ones who tipped in fact.  A small lesson in humility. 

Another memory where water kicked this Virgo's ass was when I worked at another summer camp, this one was in Post Falls.  Hannah and I went to work for a summer camp program as one-on-one aides for young adults with specialized needs.  I worked with one young individual who was non-verbal, a bit prone to violence, and a complete water hater.  Well... one of the outings found us all at a lake.  There was canoeing.  So of course I wanted to get out there and play!  I spent about half an hour convincing my client that I wouldn't let him get wet, that I was a professional at this.  And finally he let me lead him to the dock and then carefully down into the canoe.  He was doing well.  But then I stepped down into the rocking boat and it was all overboard from there.  I found myself standing almost knee deep in lake muck with a six foot teenager clinging to me for dear life much like a cat when faced with a bath.  He was not happy.  Hannah's clients however found it hilarious.  I was actually really proud of my client that day - he didn't freak out on me or get violent, he just stared at me with sad puppy eyes while I got him out of the lake and got him cleaned up.  

Holiday Letter!

I have a long to-do list.  I've had my Thanksgiving fun and now it's back to work.  I got one item ticked off the list tonight and that is the Holiday Letter.  Most of our friends and family will be getting this letter in the mail with a Christmas/Yule card.  But I was kind of proud and thought I would share it here as well.  If you read it here first and then get it in the mail... still act surprised!

Holiday Letter 2014

Dear family and friends, I hope you’re all right,

My thoughts are of you as I sit down to write:

Twelve months is a lot to cram in a letter,

Just like my boobs barely fit in a sweater.

So where to begin? Let me line up my ducks, 

Please poets forgive me, my iambic sucks.

Another year’s over and what is the news? 

I’ll tell you the tale and await your reviews.

This April, Miss Hannah joined SNHU,

To finish her bachelors and broaden her view.

Through workshops and classes she’s written a bunch!

But ‘applied finite math,’ she’d just like to punch.

Along with her school, she’s got crafts and crochet,

She’s pumping out afghans, at least one a day!

Often she’s homesick for the Wichita crew,

And so she extends an, “I love and miss you!” 

Now me, I still work at L’eggs Hanes and Bali,

And hope for the day we might live in the Valley

Of Spokane, if you please, or even downtown,

Closer to culture, we’d like to settle down.

My Masters in writing, I’ve almost attained,

My sources are cited, my fingers are trained!

Graduation’s in July and if all goes well

I’ll have a dystopian story to sell.

Six months ago we had a hard time for sure,

We lost our sweet Yoda, our baby of fur.

He’s a kitty we’ll never ever forget,

But to help heal our hearts, we sought a new pet.

So, a black scraggly beast, Narcisa, she’s called,

Now leaves fresh destruction wherever she’s crawled.

Galen and Ellie and Narcisa make three,

And Yoda makes four alive in memory.

This year has been busy from schoolwork alone,

We barely had time to explore the unknown.

We hunted for ghosts and read lots of tarot,

Camped in the summer, the cold chilled our marrow.

And then in the autumn, a party we threw,

To say, "out with the old and in with the new."

As you finish this letter, how ‘bout a dare? 

Close both your eyes and for a second we’re there.

Snow Queen Yule Winter Solstice Goddess

Giggles

Earlier today Hannah and I laid down on the bed and cuddled.  I petted and massaged her neck and scalp because she had a killer headache and that seemed to be helping.  Well I started to doze off and entered that strange place between awake and asleep where odd strange  images pop into my head and strange words leak out of my mouth.  It's like a stream of conscience acid trip.  Today I had two images.  The first image was of a shelf in a thrift store.  On this shelf was a variety of knickknacks one of them being a really pretty bronze hued owl bracelet with green and pink stones set in the eyes and along the wings.  For some reason this made me giggle. And so I tried to tell Hannah about the bracelet I'd just seen when another image popped into my head.  

This time I saw kitties.  But they were doing that wacky Frankenstein's Monster creeper walk where they hunch up their backs and bolt away on their hind legs.  And this time the giggle in my throat came out as a laugh.  I often laugh in my sleep.  The sound of it is apparently so disturbing it wakes Hannah up, which is a feat in and of itself, and frightens her enough that she usually squishes a pillow on my face to either silence me or kill me (anything to make the laughter stop).  Today I laughed and laughed until I just about choked.  I laughed until I couldn't breathe and then I trembled and sobbed.  Hannah told me that my sobbing is quite pathetic and imitated my face which just made me laugh all over again, which then led to more sobbing.  Just when I was almost finished with the cycle and coming down so that I could breathe normally, Hannah curled up next to me and said cutely, "You're so weird."  

I love her.  Because she puts up with this insanity.  This isn't the first time I've giggle-looped into tears and it certainly won't be the last, but this was a particularly draining episode and I had to do a round of 'cool down' snickering and sniffling before I was finally able to get up and function for the day.  And that's just one of many strange behaviors and mood swings that Hannah has to put up with on a daily basis.  I would pity her if I didn't also know she has the best lover this side of the Mississippi giving her orgasms whenever she demands them.  Yep.  I might be overselling myself a little.  But I don't think so.  

Yule and Sirens

Tonight, Hannah and I decided, rather on the spur of the moment, to take some food, some wood, some matches, and some sodas and go out to Kiwanis Park to cook a Solstice meal and enjoy nature.  Well, the park technically closes from "sunset to sunrise" and since today is the shortest day of the year, sunset came at 3:59 PM.  Meaning our trespassing began shortly after we arrived.  In the time it took us to walk from the car to the pavilion, there went the sun.  For all my talk, I'm actually a pretty rule abiding citizen, same with Hannah, and so with the dark came a feeling of breaking the law.  Fear of being fined (we are so freaking poor right now) and fear of being arrested (thank you Cracked.com articles featuring the bad apple/barrel police department encounters) quickly overshadowed the slight adrenaline high that comes from being rebellious.  Maybe it was the mixture of fear and adrenaline that kept us there because before we knew it I was starting a fire in the grill pit and Hannah was fixing up the MP3 player with the speakers.

The air was filled with the crackling of summer wood and the melodies of Solstice carols.  We were about to put the tinfoil wrapped casserole and bacon onto the grate when I pointed out that lacked a stick for poking and proding the food and fire.   I was pretty certain we had a metal poker in the car so I got the keys and readied myself to venture back to the parking lot alone (probably a three minute walk but still, it was dark!).

And then, through the trees we see headlights moving nice and slow, somewhat reminiscent of how a cop car might drive through a closed park to keep all Pagan shenanigans to a minimum.  So Hannah and I freeze and watch the balls of light as they slow to a stop and then disappear.  Suddenly I decided I didn't really need to go to the car.  It had to have been a cop, right?  And I just knew that he'd either taken down the license plate number so he could fine us later or left a big fat ticket on the window.  And if he wasn't a cop then it was a random person out looking for someone to tattle on.

Our hearts beating a little faster after the mysterious drive-by, we threw the food onto the fire and cuddled together to wait for the feast, hoping that we could still enjoy our evening before the police showed up in force to haul us away. It was nice to just sit there in the woods, surrounded by snow and the pretty orange glow of the fire.  But that ended when we heard, way off in the distance, the sound of a police siren followed by the loud belching alarm of a firetruck.  We gave each other nervous smiles and tried to ignore it, but it kept getting louder and louder and louder.  Until it sounded like they were pulling into the park.  Hannah immediately began piling snow onto our nice fire sending a whoosh of smoke up into the night sky, making a kind of 'guilty' beacon.

The siren sound gets closer and closer and then goes right on by.  Yep.  But we've already killed the fire and it seems like a good time to make a run for it before something does happen, so we grab our half cooked food, our blankies, music, and sodas and head home.  I half figured there would be a police road block waiting for us at the park entrance, but the only thing waiting for us were a couple of deer and they were beautiful. The best part of the story, however, is that later, when explaining how we freaked ourselves out over a random car driving slowly through the park, dad replies casually, "Oh, that was us!"  My parents went out to see if the area was plowed because they worried that we might be stuck in the snow.  We weren't stuck.  Just paranoid.

The Penis and Me

EDIT: The glorious penis picture (wherein the penis was completely body painted over with white and then dotted with huge primary color polka dots) has been removed due to a change in adult content policy.  Please enjoy the replacement dick!

I nearly killed my boss a few days back - not with an ax, but with laughter.  She and I were talking about Christmas letters and families and she asked about me and Hannah.  She wondered if we'd ever dated men and how did we know we didn't like them.  Well, we do like men.  Both of us.  We like men a great deal.  But our love isn't based on each other's genitalia.  So my boss took this in and then asked if our families knew that Hannah and I were together.  Yes, everyone knows.  Everyone except her grandparents.  They know (we think they know) but they won't acknowledge it.  Which is fine.  They are super Christian and on top of that they come from a generation of 'don't hang your dirt laundry out for others to see' and as long as they still love me and call me their 'other' granddaughter, I don't care if they admit to themselves the true nature of my relationship with Hannah.  They are nothing but pleasant toward us and that's good enough for me.  It breaks Hannah's heart a little because she wishes she could invite them to our wedding, but at the rate the 'wedding' is coming along we probably won't have to worry about Grandma and Grandpa at all because it's not going to happen until we have the money to do it right and that might be many, many years down the road.  Still, if they are here, it would be nice if they would come.

So we talked about this for a few minutes and then my boss wondered if there was anyone on my side - friends or family - that didn't know I was with a woman.  The truth is, I've told everyone of my dear friends that I am in a relationship with Hannah, except for one friend who lives in California.  I've sort of left it as a 'she probably knows' arrangement because this is the friend who, in college, spoke very frankly about how sad it was to her that all the gays were going straight to hell.  This is also the friend who once said to me, "Amanda, I've had some friends who I wondered about, but with you, I definitely know you're straight.  You will never, ever get with a woman because you are way too obsessed with penises."  Yes, I admit it, I think penises are fantastic, hilarious, delightful, and user friendly.  I didn't used to think that way.  When I was kid I often drew men in positions of power over women and their penises would be a huge snakes or something similar.  But I got older and less afraid of the mythical creature known as 'a dick' and in college I became very familiar with a few.  Not 'too familiar' mind you!  But familiar.

And that's when I pretty much killed my boss.  She cackled at my rendition of my friend saying, "Amanda, you see penises in EVERYTHING!"  And she nearly started crying when I listed off a few of the things I automatically regard as phallic: bushes, shadows, trees, air... you get the idea.  Anyway so, of course, I've been hesitant to tell my friend that Hannah and I are a couple because she might think my enjoyment of penises (or is it penii?) was a complete ruse.  She might think that everything about me was a ruse.  Her head might explode and there might be a snow storm in Jamaica.  Who knows?!  But after talking to my boss, I decided that playing chicken shit is no longer the way to go.  In Christmas letters of the past I've spoken of Hannah and I as 'we' and 'us' and talked about 'our' cats, but this year I put it out there plainly as one of the things that hasn't changed in 2013: "Hannah and I are still together."  Two girls.  Yep.  Now please enjoy this dick.

The Return of the Hannah

My girlfriend returned to me last night after a month long absence.  She had gone down to Kansas to visit her family and friends while I remained behind in good old Northern Idaho at the mercy of real and imagined insects and spiders which may or may not have bitten me on my neck, under my arm, behind my knee, and on  my foot.  While she was away, the cats claimed me as their bitch.  Yoda, in particular, made homework and life in general quite difficult as he developed a very pronounced yowl for attention.  When not yowling, he helped himself onto my face as a heating pad for his belly.  And if he wasn't doing that he was all up in my arms purring and nuzzling me and hugging me.  It was wonderful, except that I really needed to get my homework done.

Well, I got it all done.  Then I went and picked up my girlfriend and she and I went to Denny's for late night pancakes.  Back at home, in our bed, we cuddled and talked as we fought for pillow space with a blue octopus named Ted and a My Little Pony plushie that you might know as Fluttershy.  Galen and Ellie were visitors off and on through the night but Yoda was a permanent fixture in the bed.  It nice and peaceful.  The rest of the household was asleep.  Was.  After Hannah told me the story of a dusky voiced cat (maaaaohhh) who spent several days double bagged and stuffed in the freezer part of the kitchen fridge after his death, my laughter woke everyone up and, for the first time in a long time, I was petitioned to 'please, keep it down.'  I replied that I would but mom wasn't convinced apparently because she stood there for a while longer repeating her plea.  It was just so desperate!  Well, I did my best to abide by the pact of 'sure, I'll keep it down.'

This first outburst of laughter, however, was but a prelude to the rest of the night.  I rubbed Hannah's back, then she turned over and cuddled me (i.e. tortured me with her fingernails along my sensitive side flesh until all I could do was threaten her demise and wriggle like a fish while trying to 'keep it down').  After this, I imparted to her the persistence with which Yoda had sought my attention while she was away.  Just as I was mentioning this, the little devil himself hopped onto me and stepped his dainty, digging paws into my tummy.  I told him to get "up out of my grille!"  That was the beginning of the end for me.  Hannah reached over, giggling, and ran her hand over my face explaining, "this is your mug," then touched my lips, "this is your grille."  And I don't know if it was just that I'd missed her, or that I was mentally spent after all the homework, or if I just hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, but for some reason I just lost it.  I laughed so hard that I scared Yoda right off of me.  Laughed until I had to literally suffocate myself with a pillow.  And the laughing morphed into weird garbled sobs, but by then I was tasting something very interesting in my throat.  It tasted like hot, red tears.  I sat up and put a finger under my nostril.  Yep.  I had laughed so hard that I'd given myself a bloody nose.

For a good few seconds I debated if I really needed to get up and take care of it - surely I could just swallow it all away and keep laying there in the comfortable and warm bed.  But the desire for a blood free pillow won out.  I scurried away to the bathroom to tend to my face, and when I returned, sobered from my  hysteria, Hannah was already half way to REM sleep.  It was then that I realized we hadn't kissed yet since she'd been back.  We had hugged, coddled, caressed, and even nibbled on each other, but we hadn't kissed.  She was too sleepy to refuse me so I nuzzled closer and told her we'd forgotten something.  We kissed and that was that.  Sleep.  I'm quite happy she's home.

The Mysterious Mat

Ellie and I have a morning ritual.  It involves a tail thwacking my lips, sharp claws clutching into my skin as I roll over in bed trying to avoid said tail, and then the inevitable cuteness of motorboat purrs vibrating my back as she lays there triumphant on her human cushion.  Sometimes I grab her and wrangle her down to lay beside me and not on me, but most of the time she perches between my shoulder blades if I am on my tummy, or she snuggles up persistently beneath my chin if I am on my back.  On one particular morning last week, she came in for our ritual and just as she was curling up on my hip, I grabbed her and snuggled her.  As I pet along her tummy I felt a large, oddly shaped mat.  It was somewhat wet - which I attributed to her atrocious drinking manners - and it was harder than a traditional mat.  I honestly imagined the worst and figured she'd somehow managed to get a large poop stuck to her puff-ball body.  With a grimace I gently pushed her away from me and to the edge of the bed.  She let out a squawk as I nudged her over.  The squawk wasn't the only think I heard; from elsewhere in the apartment I heard my father saying something like 'ah, look at this mess.'  The discovery of a mess didn't really strike me as odd - we often have messes and they are often caused by Ellie.  It wasn't until later that I wondered if the mess had anything to do with the lumpy wetness in the cat's fur.

Time seemed to slip away and I found myself rushing in a mad dash getting ready for work.  I was already out the door before I could really discuss this mysterious mat with Hannah or with my parents and so I headed out figuring that someone would find it in their heart to rid the little Black Persian of whatever in the hell she'd managed to get stuck to her.  When I returned home that night, the mystery had been solved.  The mess my father had come across was an overturned vase of roses.  There was water all over the wet bar between the kitchen and dining room as well as all over the floor.  Roses, petals, and large leaves decorated the place in a ravaged state.  Hannah's words to me that night were of this variety: "So, one of the cats decided we didn't need roses anymore.  And I know which one it was because the little shit had evidence stuck in her fur.  She had a huge rose leaf on her!"  That explained the oddly shaped mat as well as the wetness.  My first reaction was relief - so I hadn't been inadvertently stroking poo that morning, this was a good thing! - my next reaction was to giggle.  It was just like Ellie to toddle off from the scene of the crime dressed in pieces of the mischief.  The cat has no poker face, and arguably, no face at all.

This is not Ellie (she is the least photogenic cat in the world)
but this is close enough!

Day One in Boston - Crime Scene and 1984

Today I embark on a fantastic voyage.  I arrived not too long ago at the Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts (where I will remain for the next four or so hours) and I have much to report of the journey; observations and such.  Firstly and foremost, I have to say that yesterday, the preparation for the departing flight was the most relaxed of any I've ever known.  I took my time, gathered my things, did some laundry, ran around the house naked for the most part and when we I did finally arrive at the Spokane Airport, it was so early that I was able to sneak onto an earlier flight for Seattle which gave me a longer layover at that airport but in the end it got me started sooner and I thought it was pretty neat that I ended up in the exact same seat on the earlier flight that I would have had on my later flight.  That seat was E14 by the way.  Lucky seat I suppose.  Also, a general observation: if you want TSA to talk to you, wear a yellow scarf with the words "CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS" written all over it.  I and the caution tape scarf received many, many comments and eye quirks during the travels but the best exchange occurred right there in Spokane.  A TSA agent eyed me a moment and approached.

"What kind of crime scene we talking about exactly?"  He asked with a raised eyebrow.

I said the first thing that I could think of that wouldn't get me a cavity search.  "A gentle one."  We chuckled and I explained that I'm meeting someone in Boston and wanted to give her a clear indication of who I was and what better way than to say 'here I am' than to wear a big old yellow crime tape scarf?  The subsequent flight was spent thinking of what might constitute a 'gentle' crime scene and my mind flooded with bizarre images of date rape gone wrong or the good old crime of passion wherein a lover strangles his/her conquest as pretty as you please and settles them down in the snow to die quietly and gently.

Moving right along, my second flight was filled with about 100 pages of Orwell's "1984" the first thing I really honed in on was how intricate and necessary the role of sex and violence is in all Dystopian novels whether they say the dirty words or not.  Interestingly enough, this novel takes the stance that it is through limiting of sexual contact and the eventual breeding the instinct out of people that will keep a nation quiet and controlled.  Similar in concept to that of "Equilibrium" where a man is accused of 'having relations with a woman' and all he did was hold her hand.  In other Dystopian novels however sex is encouraged to the point that it will lack all meaning such as it is in Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World."  I suppose a case could be made that whether sex is limited or in abundance, the point of it is to keep bonds casual and social and decrease attachment between individuals.  Fascinating.

On this flight, I learned something else as well.  Take a chance and say something to the person next to you and it will make the flight better.  Not always (because sometimes you have the great misfortune of sitting next to a real sour son of a bitch who would rather be violated with a chainsaw than show a stranger an ounce of kindness) but most of the time, a polite little comment really pays off.  This young pretty black girl was in the middle seat and I was against the window feeling huge and obtrusive when she took out a little bottle of lotion and did up her hands.  It smelled awesome! And since that was a genuine and honest reaction, I went ahead and told her that I really liked the smell of her lotion.  She not only perked up and smiled at me, she pulled the bottle back out and let me use some as well.  It was from Victoria Secret and smelled like cake batter and coconuts.

Back to the subject of "1984," there was a line that made me pause and literally shake my head.  Not in the 'oh, what a shame' kind of way, but in that classic, cartoon double-take fashion.  "We are the dead."  Says Winston at one point as he lays next to his Julia after a bout of highly forbidden love-making.  She refutes this and tells him not to talk about death and what not, but I was stuck there on that line for a good few moments.  For those who know me, you'll know that I am die-hard David Bowie fan.  I own all of his studio albums and one of my absolute favorite has always been 'Diamond Dogs.'  Now, I've always known that this album was based directly off of Orwell's work - with song titles like '1984' and 'Big Brother' how could I not?  But never having actually read the book left me hearing the album with the ears of an outsider.  I adored it, but could only grasp the surface.  Now, however, I am replaying the album merrily in my mind, extracting images and themes that directly link to the text of the novel and I find it all the more compelling and exciting.

Some Sound Advice!

This is a link that was posted recently on the Creative Writing MFA Blog, which is a fairly informative writing hub concerning that ever pressing topic: the MFA and the various programs through which to obtain one.  Several of the blog posts speak of first hand experience in dealing with the Low Residency Program through Queens University of Charlotte and I found this to be particularly helpful in the decision making process.  However, enough promotion, and on with the good stuff:

How to Apply to an MFA Program is a blog post from by Seth Fried who writes for the TinHouse Blog.   It is a truly excellent piece that - had I known about it prior to having mailed out my first two applications to MFA programs - wouldn't have helped me in the least.  But perhaps it will soften the blow of any rejection letters that may be forthcoming.  Enjoy this small excerpt, but please, do yourself a favor and follow the link to read the entire 'how to' article.  It's very much worth it.

~*~

Much like the royal courts of the yestermillennium, MFA programs will not grant you an audience unless you approach them with proper letters of introduction. That is why it is of the utmost importance that you secure two to three letters in which your former teachers recommend you as a human.

When requesting these letters from your teachers, you must be sensitive to the fact that teaching is demanding work and leaves very little time for writing letters. A polite thing to do is to create a generic letter to which any teacher can simply sign his or her name. I have included an example below:

Dear College,

I am writing to recommend that you accept Seth Fried to your creative writing program.

Seth was a star pupil in my (please circle one) REMEDIAL MATH COURSE/ANGER MANAGEMENT CLASS/BASIC HYGIENE INTERVENTION. Based on his performance, I am able to say with a high degree of certainty that you would be a fool not to accept him.

I found his intelligence to be so intimidating that after grading his work I was often unable to perform sexually. Frankly, I’m not even certain that he shouldn’t be writing a letter of recommendation for me.

He would truly be an asset to your program. Not only is he talented and focused, but he also does not do hard drugs and has never been convicted of a violent crime.

Sincerely,

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(sign above)