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Weep Little Lion Man

So the groundhog predicted an early spring. I have a feeling much of the country today is scoffing at the news. A co-worker who grew up in Louisiana told me that down there they just throw a groundhog in a pot and call it stew. I knew there was a reason I like her so much.

I like banjos too, I’ve discovered. I’m listening a lot to Mumford & Sons and the Avett Brothers. Folksy, twangy … it puts me in a mellow mood. Somewhere during the day, however, it gets to be too much and I change my Pandora station to Punk/Rock. I need the Clash, Ramones, Sleater-Kinney.

But there is no music today. Our Internet is slow, so agonizingly slow that Pandora will not play. It mocks my bandwidth and remains stubbornly silent.

I’m not sure how I can work in these conditions.

Still, no groundhogs were hurt in the writing of this journal entry. No stew for you tonight.


Barely Legal


Has it really been three years since I last posted to LJ?

My last entry has me looking for caffeine and chocolate before a snow storm. I must have found them.

There's not been much snow this year in Virginia. Doesn't stop me from complaining, though. I'm tired of winter. Tomorrow I want the damn groundhog to see his shadow... or not see his shadow... whichever means spring will be early.

I'm not superstitious. Not unless it works in my favor.

Would this be the part of the entry that tells you where I've been? Let's see... three years would be about the time we moved, and my parents moved in with us. Having two aging parents to take care of—along with a too-smart-10-year-old, two obnoxious cats, a demanding job, and a long-suffering husband—it sucks sometimes. I'm part of the "sandwich generation" you see mentioned on daytime TV and in ladies magazines.

Bah.

Still, like the groundhog, I have to stick my head out sometime. Boo.


The weather outside is frightful

The forecast calls for two to four inches of snow tomorrow.

The masses at the grocery store are stocking up on milk and bread.

My cart has coffee, Cokes, and chocolate. We all have our priorities.

Um, yeah...I'm back. Anyone still around?

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Things

Things I love...

  • Reading books about selkies with Rachel.

  • Sarah Vowell. I'm re-reading Assassination Vacation before I give a copy to a Republican friend of mine. It's just as much fun the second time around. Hope she thinks so.

  • Rome, which leaves me exhausted and drained at the end of each episode. This is one of the few shows that I watch with dread and glee. It is smart and glorious and beautiful and violent, and I will be sad next Sunday when I see how it all ends.

  • Spring.

  • Tax refunds.

  • Target -- I am Target's whore. That is all.

  • PIRATES!



Things I dread...

  • Writing talking points for an event next week. I'm tired of saying the same old things in new and different ways.

  • Walking to work in the cold, rainy weather tomorrow.

  • Office meetings filled with enough angst and drama and no productivity.


Spring Forward

Life has been full and crazy these days, but for the most part, okay. After another year of upheaval, it seems like things are calming down and looking up. [knock on wood] Work has been demanding and insane at times. I find myself torn between the lure of the familiar and comfortable and the desire to move on. It might be time to move on.

Still, I like my routine. I work hard and then go home, where there is constant movement. Rachel continues to grow and change. She’s fascinating to watch. We have homework and projects, play dates and family outings. There’s good TV (like Rome and Battlestar Galactica) and movies and books. There’s getting together with friends. There’s taking pictures and learning about new things. We’re also de-cluttering our life, taking boxes and boxes of household goods to storage. I love taking things to storage.

With spring coming, I desperately want to be outside doing something, anything, when I’m not at work. Yesterday we took a walk and fed the geese near our townhouse. We jumped rope with Rachel, almost-40-year-old legs trying to remember the rhythm from childhood. It probably wasn’t attractive to watch, but it was fun. We’re planning a trip to Monticello in a couple of weeks, a place I live 20 minutes from but haven’t visited since grade school. We want to go to Williamsburg and the beach (at least Rachel and I want to go to the beach) this summer.

Even though I scraped ice off my car windows this morning, I can feel spring coming and it makes me happy.

February rolls round again

I should like February. After all, Rachel turns seven this month. Talk to Rachel now and she'll want to discuss cartoons and scooters, Hannah Montana and soduko puzzles, horses and double dutch jump roping, and, oh yes, boys.

It's easy to tell if a boy likes you, Rachel says. According to her friend C., if a boy walks up to you and shrugs, then smiles, it means he loves you. And in C.'s case, it means they'll kiss you too. For Rachel, a boy she likes named K. has been shrugging and smiling a lot too. However, he hasn't made his move yet. I'm amused by this talk. Rodney is not.

I remember my first kiss. The boy's name was Steve Austin (I swear). He brought a paper bag of his mother's jewelry to school for me and kissed me behind a storage shed on the school playground. I was six or seven at the time. I liked boys, then thought they were gross. It's normal.

Try telling her father that.

Happy Birthday!

I'm ashamed to say that I do not remember the first time I met lillithj. We attended the same small college in Virginia. We were both a little eccentric. We were both on the same editorial magazine, and that's probably where we met.

What I do remember is that her "dream" back then was to be a philosopher in Paris. I would be a writer in London. I think there were tall, dark, handome men involved in those fantasies. The details are blurry...all the vodka and wine we drank, you understand. When she studied a year in Paris, we wrote very long and probably very embarrassing letters to each other. I still have a few of hers. No, I will not share them. I sent her Kraft mac and cheese and accepted collect calls when she needed someone to talk to. We spent hours talking about Shakespeare and Victor Hugo, The Phantom of the Opera, philosophy, and Romantic poets. We did a project on Neitzche together, written with purple crayon. I'm still surprised we passed that class.

Yes, we thought ourselves artistic. I'd call us pretentious now, but it still makes me smile.

She's one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Happy Birthday, lillithj.

Day 30: Her father's daughter

I checked on Rachel the other night before going to bed. Because she was sleeping on the edge of her bed, feet facing the headboard, her normal position, I scooted her over so she wouldn't fall out during the night. She woke up while I was moving her, sitting upright and looking straight at me.

"I told you Teeter was a better store than Kroger," she said, before laying down again and resuming whatever grocery dreams she'd been enjoying.

This coupled with the fact that she asks to watch Good Eats each night leads me to believe that her father's culinary gene has turned on. Now if we can get her to stop wanting to go to McDonald's so much.

It's November 30th. 30 days of posts. We now resume blog silence for a while.

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Day 29: End in sight

According to CNN, America has just gotten more dangerous. "Last year, a group of sea lions took over a Newport Beach marina and caused a vintage 50-foot yacht to capsize when they boarded it....In Alaska, a huge sea lion jumped onto a fisherman's boat in 2004, knocked him overboard and pulled him underwater; he escaped without serious injury."

When sea lions attack, it's up to us to look for festive cheer wherever we can find it. And no, I don't mean in radio stations that play Christmas carols 24 hours a day, or blinking, motorized Christmas decorations. No, I mean in alcohol.

If you're looking for me on December 5th, I'll be celebrating Repeal Day. The brain child of blogger and mixologist Jeffrey Morgenthaler, December 5th is "the anniversary of the day the United States repealed the Eighteenth Amendment and gave us all the constitutional right to consume alcohol."

Why should December 5th be a major drinking holiday in the United States?

We have the constitutional right to do so. How many forms of pleasure are guaranteed by the Constitution? None, unless you’re one of those who get an inflated sense of ego from holding a firearm or speaking in public. Me, I’m going to stick with alcohol.

Me too. Remember Repeal Day. Go to a bar. Pick up some beer or wine and share with friends and loved ones. Drink -- or the terrorists will win.

Day 28: It's still November

I say this for a couple of reasons. First, I have three more entries to complete NaBloPoMo. Dear God, I am a boring person.

And second, it's not Christmas yet, people. A local radio station had already started playing Christmas carols twenty-four hours a day before Thanksgiving. The Salvation Army was already out ringing bells last week. There are large, lighted Christmas decorations in yards all over the neighborhood, inflatable Santa Clauses and snowmen, blinking reindeer. I can't be expected to display any Christmas spirit until, at least, December 1st when NaBloPoMo is over.

Have I mentioned that I'll be glad when NaBloPoMo is over?

Bah humbug. Two more entries to go.

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Crow is a writer and editor living in Virginia with her husband, 10-year-old daughter, two aging parents, two wild cats, and too many books.

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