Two Weeks, An Abbreviated History

While I suppose that interesting and/or good things have been happening in and around my world I have not, of late, been inclined to talk much about them.

So here, a condensed update and informative primer in this, my life.

Yardageddon was a tremendous success. My mother and I spent four hours trimming, cutting, shearing, lopping, salting, and spraying various plants into submission or death. I am impressed at the destruction we wrought in such a short time. Although the ivy lives still, it is much less enthusiastic than it has been and therefore a less favorable environment for mosquitoes and other things that want to bite me. Cheers!

Speaking of my mom, she and I managed to complete some pretty impressive work on her screened-in porch—especially when you factor in that we were more or less making it up as we went along. Although anyone who pauses to even consider me working with power tools would undoubtedly scurry away to hunt up appropriate items for first aid, I am pleased to say that no one was hurt. Who woulda thunk it?

In young puppy Bennet’s quest to drive me batshit crazy, there was a tragic incident involving a baby bird in the yard last week. I wonder, whatever do the neighbors think as I run around waving my arms and yelling? My pets and I, doing our part for natural selection.

I am still looking forward to the upcoming arrival of my roommate. Last night I completed my $20 closet project, again with the help of my incomparable mom. Yes. $20. Here’s what I came to realize. A closet rod is little more than a slightly fancy and shiny stick. I love fancy and shiny as much or more than the next girl, but come on. $15 for a stick that is going to be behind a door that I keep closed? Not if I can help it.

Since this “closet” is actually the tiny room in my basement where the monsters used to hide, I realized there had to be a cheaper yet equally effective way to handle this. The answer came to me in the form of some PVC pipe, some plastic pipe strap, a thing of carpet cleaner, an air freshener, and some $3 wallpaper from big lots. Three hours later, and I am the proud owner of a huge walk-in closet complete with lined shoe rack. A thing of beauty? Perhaps not. A thing of tremendous thrift and effectiveness? Indeed. I got your Design on a Dime, right fuckin’ here.

Last week we attended the 88 MM Productions’ screening of their incomplete 48 Hour Film Festival movie. They were, sadly, unable to finish because some miserable bottom-feeders held up the sound guy. Luckily, no one was hurt. From the bit I saw, the looked quite good. It truly sucks that they were not able to finish, although I am given to understand that the fragment was selected for the “Best of . . .” showing this Thursday. Hooray! And besides, next year they can come back and continue their cinematic misadventures—although in future we hope that the only criminals are those that are actively involved in the filming.

Also last week The Boy and I went to see Much Ado About Nothing in Forest Park. Set in the old West, I think this production did a better job than most communicating the play to those who might not be totally up on their Shakespeare, as well as doing a pretty good job of editing to a manageable running time. For the first time ever, the characterr of Ursula was something other than completely forgettable--that was kind of a cool. The Boy is an excellent picnic companion, and a grand time was had by all.

Finally, I recently had to put into practice the wise advice of The Liquor Fairy. No, not “People who are still puking are not in imminent danger of alcohol poisoning,” although that is good to know. Nope. The bit about “You shouldn’t break bread with people you don’t like.” This weekend I had to choose between eating with a number of my friends and one distinctly non-friend, or spending a quiet evening at home with The Boy. Although a quiet evening at home with The Boy is always lovely and never unwelcome, it was rather a suck choice to have to make—to leave or not to leave. Really though, I find myself asking if it was really a choice at all?

Yeah, no. I don’t think that it was.