Week Thirty-Five: Muscle Memory

Someone should tell August its name is too long. Come to think of it, lots of the months have names too long for polite spelling. And I was born in one of them. March through July are the months for my fingers. December is easy to spell, as I've put it to paper more than any other month in the last 30 years. Now, I don't mean easy to spell in terms of remembering the letters and where they go. I was quite the speller back in the day. I merely refer to the ease and quickness that my clumsy fingers hammer out the letters on a keyboard. Some things we can simply do by feel, as though the fine motor muscles remember things better than the big cognitive muscle that is the brain. My brain for certain is too busy being daft and sorting out when I last bought bread and remembering the name of that one film that one gal was in last year. Leave the muscle memory to the limbs.

Day 1 (239): 4th of August
I've got a lovely bunch of taskers now
There they are sitting in my queue
Real ones, frivolous ones, some I might even do
Give em a go, finish em so
you might have your hullaballoo
I am the keymaster. Nevermind the gate keeper. I just don't want to lose my keys. Takes a fair amount of effort, that. If ever you need a person to misplace things (especially important things, like keys) at essential times, I'm your girl.

Day 2 (240): 5th of August

Don't need me to worry 'bout time 'cause it goes on
Don't want me to tell you it's time to go home
Don't care what I want anymore this is your show
Go ahead with your big plans, leave me alone

Ever have one of those truly terrific Tuesdays that are so spectacularly terrific that the real "T" word that ought to describe them is not really for polite company's ears? Or really the ears of most dock workers.Thus the cranky Billy Joel re-write. And somewhat disturbing bizarre doodles. Honestly... not even sure what these are. I'll stick to photography I think.

Day 3 (241): 6th of August

Ice cream was piña colada, and I got caught in the rain.

I thought about doing yoga, but then I fell from the train. 

Don't like waking up at midnight, watching Dune in a cape.

There's a dream that I wait for but each night it escapes.

I had a great photo of a brilliant sunset this evening, but forgot to add it to my memory stick, so as I finish this at the hotspot, I am alas without. May remember to add it later. One action that gets easier (but sometimes harder) with age is the turning off (and the setting of) bedside alarms. I do hate it when they pull me from a really great dream. And announce a long day of being chained to a desk. Yay.  

Day 4 (242): 7th of August
Well I never gargled, I never gambled,
I never smoked at all
Until I met my two good amigos
Nick Teen and Al K. Hall
I may not smoke, but I do love this particular Rolf Harris song. So much so that I'm not even giving it the usual snarky re-write treatment. Al K. and I have had some good times and some not so good times, but sometimes he is just what the doctor ordered.

This one is a bit more fun.

Day 5 (243): 8th of August

Life is a beautiful thing
As long as I play the strings
And you're silly so I say
If you try to take them away
Really, I mean that. You may lose a digit or two. Not saying the things will be ripped from my cold dead hands. That's a bit dramatic, no? But I do love my guitars. I call them Florence and the Machine, because I named the first one Felix, and the other two by default became Florence and Rupert. Florence is pictured. She was an impulse buy. Who impulse buys a guitar? (P.S. Sorry for the re-write, Frankie).

She's just so pretty, and who here hasn't done silly things for the sake of the pretty ones?

Day 6 (244): 9th of August
But promises you know what they're for
It sounds so convincing, but you've heard it before
'Cause talk is cheap and you gotta be sure
And so you put up your guard
And you try to be hard but your heart says try again
I think I'm past the snark of the week, so I'll leave Ms. Benatar's lyrics alone. Best to just let the fingers do the talking and only say what needs said. Even if those fingers are not the best at typing.

Day 7 (245): 10th of August
Sunday mornin', praise the dawnin'
It's just a restless feelin' by my side
Early dawnin' Sunday mornin'
It's just the wasted years so close behind
Watch out, the world's behind you
There's always someone around you
who will call
It's nothin' at all.
Thanks for that one, Mr. Reed. I'll drink to Sunday mornings. But only if tea is what's on the menu. Do love a good cuppa to start the day.

Much like memories, most of these ended up in Black and White. Cannot say for sure, but it might have something to do with having odd-looking hands. 

Week Thirty-Three: A Better State

Damn. Damn. Theme? Central thought? Forgot my notebook again, and as such have forgotten all the neat thoughts I wanted to get down in this thing this week. I think the indulgences of being on leave for a second week are the only unifying details. Be it indulging in more food, more channel surfing, more dowhatibloodywant-ing, or more equine time, all was truly marvellous. Does much for improving one's state of mind.

Day 1 (225): 21st of July
Nothing can bring me closer. Nothing can bring me near. Where is the road I travelled, to lead me here? Oh, wait. Nevermind. Found it. Sing at someone else, R.E.M. (though I do love that song). One thing on that road is my silly filing cabinet system of memories. Some have been damaged by fire and other natural disasters, and others eaten by Brain Mice. Those that remain are in decent condition, and cause the occasional fit of nostalgia. Can't be helped. Lookie what I found in the Ancestral Home. Still works (and yes there is still a small collection of tapes to play in it). And the time is not flashing 12:00, but rather is just flashing the : part. 

This guy is there, too. We call him Old Bill. He was a gift to my Dear Father for his time as a Cav Officer in the US Army. He was also tragically dropped many years ago and painstakingly glued back together (most of his scars are in the lower boot region). Tough old guy. 

Day 2 (226): 22nd of July
Oh I wake in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath and I get real high (not like that), and I scream from the top of my lungs, "what's going on?!" Then it turns out nothing really much is going on and I'm just a nutter shouting at the world (which we all know doesn't make it better). Does make one feel better, though. Like looking at a chicken.

I AM A CHICKEN! SEE? LOOK AT ME!! HEAR ME! Got any watermelon?

Allow me to introduce you to Blindy Tim (nee Tiny Tim, nee Nameless Bunny #12). He is a couple months old, is blind in both eyes (see the cataract?), and has a gammie left hopping leg (Ma probably stepped on him as a wee kit). Notice the tongue - even adorable bunnies get awarded the awkward candid shot. Timmy here is the softest, chillest, coolest little dude who almost died twice as a tiny thing, but just wants to live so much we have to oblige. And when I say soft, I mean that there was a serious possibility that I'd pet his coat straight off him. 

Day 3 (227): 23rd of July
Oh there is a... deeper river... flowing through the... Treasure Valley. It doth call me, to come and float it. For heat is all. For heat is all. What was that? Blame the Boise River. Like some form of Martian water monster, it got in my brain today. Such a delightful way to spend an afternoon. Lolling about in a tube with one's arse dangling in the cold river as the current takes one along is a special experience. It is also one I've not had in many moons. The River Gods giveth and taketh away, however.  My friend lost her rainbow wayfarers and I lost an earring. A small price to pay for happiness, no? Look at this flipping sky. This is what it normally looks like (i.e. sans yucky smoky ash face). 

If ye've not noticed, I'm inclined to take photos of my favourite animals being less than picturesque. Mid-yawn is a great time for a kodak moment. 

Or perhaps I shall take the shot whilst this other poor fellow is mid-roll.

Day 4 (228): 24th of July
Everybody wants to rule the world. Well, perhaps not everybody. I'm perfectly happy doing my thing. Today was originally scheduled to take place in the great city of San Diego. Due to unanticipated circumstances, however, it has been moved to the Treasure Valley. Specifically the northwest-ish part of Boise where it turns into Eagle. High on a hill, there are some ponies. And a great view (still not smoky!!) of the lovely valley. So nice. 

I take many pictures of ponies. I know this comes as a total shock. Sometimes they come out pretty passable (pony go sideways...). Dear Reader, this is Legolas.

Other times adorable (happy boys grooming each other - it had to be monochrome). 

Sometimes a sweet face emerges. (This is Electrum. He says hello.)

And sometimes the motion is just right. 

And finally, there are the times I cannot help myself. I'm such a child. 

Day 5 (229): 25th of July

Take my breath away (on that highway to the danger zone). Turns out there are still people in the world who have not seen TOP GUN. I have sorted one of them. All after the great Madhuban Feast of 2014. There may have been food left on the buffet table after we were finished, but it was not for our lack of trying. Nothing quite compares to wandering thrift stores with a food fetus that feels like twins. And this is coming from the girl who has single-handedly eaten whole sheet cakes, multiples of cheesecakes in a row, and multiples of large pizzas in a row. By now you can see I have a thing about buffets / AYCE / people daring or offering money in exchange for eating insane amounts of things. But on the way home from PT (which was no picnic with said fetus still cooking) I saw these wild sunflowers and leapt into the ditch (in my truck - I'm not a complete idiot) to take their photo.

Aren't they just rather jolly flowers? 

Day 6 (230): 26th of July
Dance your cares away. Worries for another day. Let the Music play. Down in Idaho. One thing for which I find myself longing more and more is the ability to properly dance again. It's so hard to hear the music and not get down with my bad self. The boogie wants out and it does not take kindly to excuses about how it hurts and oh not now thanks. As am again not at SDCC (quit whinging, Rodeo) the father and I went to the Basque Festival (for St. Ignacio). Amazingly enough, I didn't see a single person I knew.

There we enjoyed the beer and music and dancing and people watching and watching a mad man with a grand pan make piles of paella. As there is no scale, I'll tell you the pan is about four feet across.

A wander showed me how much this little town (only 205, 000 or so) has transmogrified in the past few years. For a good portion of my teen years (maybe all of them) there was a great gaping pit in the middle of Downtown - the result of failed development project after failed development project. Now stands in the Hole the tallest building in Boise. Seems a bit much for little old Boise.

Not far off from there is the plaza that featured in many an evening, afternoon, and really any other time of day when I was younger. A great bistro used to be here (now it's a seafood place), we built christmas trees for charity here, and there is a concert place / hockey arena / arena football field here as well. The fountain also has long been entertaining Boiseans of all ages on hot summer days and nights. 

Day 7 (231): 27th of July
Only the lonely (dum dum dum dumby doo wah) know the way I feel tonight (ooh yay yay yay yeah). Why is that in particular the song that popped in my head? It has no relevance to the matter at hand. Which is what, you ask? Well, the matter is just that. Confused? So am I. Let's move on, shall we? Lovely morning for my last full day in the Home Place. Poor Stu Bean has no idea I'll be abandoning him on the morrow.

Nor do these two trees (though I imagine they will be rather less traumatised, being trees and all). Why the odd border? Who knows.

Ooh look! Leaves on another tree! With drops of water from the sprinkler! Wow!

Have I mentioned my dreams have soundtracks?