Mensa: I had a dream last night that we were at your old house for a party, but we knew there was going to be this invasion of monsters and demons, so we were all armed.
Mensa: I brought a few shotguns, but I couldn’t find them when it first started going down, so I had to take some out the old-fashioned way.
DmentD: Awesome dream!
Mensa: There was more, but that was the highlight for you there. 🙂
DmentD: I think… I think I need to post that.
I stumbled across Martin Whitmore‘s site quite by accident… but isn’t that how the internet works most of the time? Once there I was hooked, and determined to throw money at him (he does one hell of a pole-dance).
What does he do? He’s an illustrator who has recently abandoned his day job in order to pursue making a living from his jeebus given talents alone — and those talents are abundant. I can support that.
He’s in Austin, so that makes him a local artist, and moves him further up my list when I’m choosing things to buy to put on the wall or on me. I can support that.
He’s got a dark sense of humor, and isn’t afraid to laugh at himself. I can support that.
He’s got a zombie, and zombie-huntress pinup fetish. I will support that.
I’ve already picked up the Cephalopocalypse t-shirt (seen worn at Christmas), the Chaos & Order Fairies prints (soon to be coming to a wall near me) and the Cephalopocalypse sticker (soon to be appearing all over town… on the back of my truck).
Go. Buy his wares, commission original work from him, shower him with moolah. Not just because he’s trying to make good by supporting himself with his talents, but because his stuff is fucking cool. Do it now, or I will withhold crawfish from you unwashed heathens… I’ll do it, I swear to Bob!
This week started with a crushing amount of stress. Familial… difficulties that I’m unfortunately not at liberty to expand on out of long-standing wishes, etched in stone and enforced with stern will. Suffice to say, my world was fifteen minutes from changing irrevocably, and even as I write this, the needle has swung from “less dire” to “dire again” a number of times. This see-saw is going to break me yet.
Upon receiving strong news, my brain goes into a survival mode. This is something that took me a long time to identify and learn how to harness to keep myself from going overboard (can you say “bye-bye childhood memories”?). I distract myself thoroughly and allow my subconscious (I call it my “hind brain”, like in a dinosaur tail) to sort out and absorb the information, figure out what best to do with this info, and keep me from losing my shit. I always said that if I had to name a singular talent, it is my capacity to take things apart — myself included — figure out how it works, and how to put it back together better. This is a side-specialty of that.
I’ve thrown myself into some home projects that I’ve been working on… measuring, cutting, sanding and painting are fantastic for occupying one’s thoughts thoroughly. I’ve gone practically obsessive, bordering on manic, and while that’s fine for things that only involve my immediate surrounding, it’s not so good when it involves others in the world. I suspect I may have done some damage to some possible new friendships by coming off all “Cable Guy”, and being a little more boisterous than normal (hey, I like making new friends… and these folks are cool as hell). I may be projecting that, though… but I worry about these things sometimes, and until I get to know folks better, I try not to tread on toes — and fail spectacularly on occasion. Apparently I still have some work to do on my survival mode tactics.
I have mostly kept everyone at arm’s length, because I was already feeling like I had a wet towel wrapped tightly around my head, and the last thing I needed was to feel like I was smothering any more. I love my friends dearly, and I do support and accept their support freely, but I needed — absolutely required — time to myself to digest what I knew first, without having to recount the tale repeatedly. I needed to be locked in my own head for a while, without being drawn out. Trust me… I’m not staying in there, and I know when to open the door again.
What a fucking week.
In addition to the day-to-day work, gym, and retrieving Sweets from school, I have set myself to the task of a few extra activities this week (if possible in the time allotted):
*crosses fingers*
Hope I can get all this done. Would be nice since I basically took the weekend off to relax a bit, and help Sweets where possible with her scholarship project (mainly as a dishwasher… but behind every good Chef, is an efficient dishwasher *grins*).
In a William Gibson mood these days… getting back to the father of cyberpunk’s roots. Finished re-reading Burning Chrome and Neuromancer. I have a huge literacrush on Molly Millions.
Sadly, I devoured the latest Discworld book, Making Money far too quickly. I dig Terry Pratchett, and the entirety of the Discworld… world. His characters are so flesh and blood real, and his writing just keeps getting better. He’s not afraid to tackle serious topics, and his humor is both light and dark, and that suits me just fine. Also read Nation, his latest non-Discworld book, and ripped through the Bromeliad trilogy, both of which are billed as “young adult” literature, but addresses some very adult topics (just like Pixar makes “kiddie” animated features… yeah, right).
Currently in the middle of re-reading David Sedaris′ When You Are Engulfed In Flames. Such acid wit, razor sharp and wilting… especially when he turns the beam on himself. I think when I finish this I’ll be in the right frame of mind for…
Kurt Vonnegut. What a fantastic writer, but so dark and sorrowful. I have to be in the right frame of mind to read Vonnegut, I have to brace myself mentally before diving in to keep from being drug down with him.
Sweets and I have been very busy these days, primarily on the weekends: working in the yard, making small improvements, doing some of the things on the long list of projects that we’ve wanted to accomplish around the house to make it more comfortable. We’ve had almost two months worth of weekends spent in the yard, enjoying the mild weather while getting dirty and exhausted (unfortunately, not that way, you pervs).
The garden is starting to shape up as we are planting a few more things in it. At this time there’s only about four different veggies in there, but that’s owing to the time of year, and the fact that we’re still learning how to start things from seed without killing them — most notably some of the herbs were left in the starter tray far to long, and they stayed too moist — live and learn. Our garlic is growing like there is no tomorrow, and the peas and beans are just starting to take off and climb their poles. Planted peanuts too, and they are growing fast! In about a month, we’ll be able to transplant our bell pepper and jalapeño seedlings into their containers and see where that goes.
I’ve seeded/over-seeded the lawn with Argentine Bahia grass seed, but quizzically enough, it’s been too cold in the evenings for it the start germinating. Let me repeat that: It’s been too cold. In central Texas. During spring. For grass seed to germinate. *blink* *blink* At any rate, once the weather warms up at night, it ought to take off.
Continued work on the kitchen cabinet doors. With Drew’s help (and his huge cache of tools) I built the new doors and assembled them, puttied all the nail holes and miter joints, sanded the living hell out of them and made them purdy, and stained and sealed them. Currently I need to make the solid panels to install into the lower doors, and soon enough will come the glass for the top ones, then I can install everything and mark that project off the list.
Lastly, our hammock is finally usable again. At the apartment I had it strung up on the patio, and that worked nicely. Since we have no big trees to fasten our Yucatan-style hammock to in the back yard we opted to install a pair of 4″x6″ posts 2′ into the ground. Well, that proved to be more challenging than I anticipated. Welcome to Austin, where the ground is 6″ of soil, then limestone as deep as you care to go (as opposed to NOLA, where the ground is 6″ of soil then solid gray clay as deep as you care to go). Digging that out with a standard post-hole-digger took 2 hours, a lot of sweat, left Sweets covered in dirt (as she was scooping the loose soil/stone out of the hole while laying flat on the ground), and left my hands sore for three days — but it makes for a sturdy post! We set the posts with concrete and let is dry for 24 hours. They seem to be sturdy as can be. Spent an hour the other evening under the shade of the trees, dappled sunlight playing across me, reading and listening to the bird chorus. I was more relaxed than I had been in months.
The house is continuing to feel more and more like home, and for that matter, so is Austin. It’s not that is hasn’t been “home”, but it’s finally seeping into my bones slowly but surely. It doesn’t hurt that I have a wonderful girl that is making it her home along with me, and I feel like I’m getting my life back again.
Now, if we can just get Sweets a job that will be more than happy to get her a work visa, that would make things even better — that way we can stop worrying. At least she has her externship lined up already, so that’s one less thing to lose sleep over.
You know, I never entertained the thought that the book Where the Wild Things Are would ever be anything other than the book it is. Not that I disbelieved it could be translated to another medium (and it has already, frankly, in animated form — but it never took hold in the imaginations of the kids who loved the book), or that it was sacred or anything, but just… well… I dunno.
It’s always been that book I loved as a kid (along with the little known, but utterly fantastic How to Care for Your Monster), and that I still really adore to this day. The monsters are beautifully drawn, and I have always had an affinity for Moishe (and he is, incidentally, hanging upside down in my office at work creating mischief… and reminding me to do the same), who I am just noticing I bear a resemblance to.
Well, they’ve been working on a movie adaptation of it for a little while now, and there is now a trailer out. It’s still too early to tell, even from the sketchy trailer, if it has potential to be entertaining. I’m holding on to guarded optimism.
I have two rainbarrels. I have a compost bin. I take full advantage of Austin’s new bulk recycling services. I’m going to be growing herbs, and I have seeds germinating for a vegetable garden. At this rate it won’t be long before I’m half-baked, listening to the Grateful Dead and Phish, and eating an earth shoe while twisting my hair and beard into matted dreadlocks.
Seriously, I never thought I’d be this into this sort of thing. For years I’ve wanted to grow an herb garden, but never got the momentum up to do it. Enter Sweets, who comes from a society and culture, and specifically a family that have maintained a garden and have been growing part of their own groceries for many generations. Almost every home has a garden space, and yards — even tiny ones — are commonly converted into vegetable gardens. It’s a sensibility and value that’s passed down through the generations.
The big push for this sort of thing came during World War II, when England was not only diverting all its resources toward the war effort, but also reducing its dependency on outside supplies as supply vessels can easily be (and frequently were) sunk by enemy craft. We here in the States, while being severely limited by rationing, were never crippled by the imminent threat to our very borders. Growing vegetable gardens did become a means to supplement our personal food supply, but it wasn’t strictly a necessity — tightening a belt isn’t the same as not being able to get supplies at all. Come the end of the war, we weren’t picking up the pieces after the Blitz and trying to get our country in order, and the need to grow food rapidly dwindled as the US got back up to speed and entered a new era of prosperity.
Even as the need diminished in the UK, the desire remained. That sense of accomplishment and self reliance became a part of the DNA of the country as a whole, and gardening is a skill taught from parents and grandparents to children.
Nowadays, there is a renewed movement in the US starting to growing edibles again, and it’s in a small way influenced by a shrinking economy, but mostly it’s the sensibilities of the modern hippies/new-agers/tree-huggers/etc. A new generation of folks are more environmentally conscious, and they’re making that thoughtfulness into a viable industry – the happy balance between good intentions and profitability, and that’s how you get the most people on board. Recycling is gaining momentum in a lot of municipalities, folks are repurposing a lot of second-hand items and junk these days and there is a big, big push to take care of one’s own piece of the environment, and that includes growing a garden.
Sweets, interested in starting with an herb garden, suggested that we do so, and it snowballed into moving forward on a small vegetable garden. We’re going to be growing the herbs in pots, in order to make them movable and reconfigurable. We have a good spot for the garden proper, but we’re going to start small this year and expand as necessary in the seasons to come. We’re looking at spring and fall plantings, and Austin climate being what it is, we ought to be able to keep fresh veggies of one sort or another in the house for the better part of the year.
Frankly, once the initial setup is done, there is minimal expense involved in maintaining and carrying on from year to year. You can put as little or as much into as you please — from simple planters on an apartment patio, to serious composting and rain harvesting — or you can take the middle ground like we have. The City of Austin has an excellent water conservation plan (can you say “drought zone”?), and they are offering rainbarrels at a serious discount. You place them under your gutter downspouts, and use the collected water for your garden and other non-potable uses (and both of ours filled up after one evening of rain). Simple and easy, it saves a bit on our water bill, and it means I’m not using treated water for my garden. We also bought a small compost bin that will let us use yard trimmings, fall leaves and certain kitchen waste to fertilize our garden as well, reducing the expense of fancy fertilizes, and saving our water table from the same. Frankly, I’m two parts stingy to one part environmentally conscious… you find your motivation where you can.
In the past recycling was never anything I was very vigilant about. If it was convenient, I did it, if it wasn’t… well, I have never argued that I wasn’t lazy. In NOLA, we did aluminum cans, and that was about it. I wasn’t sorting my recyclables, and I didn’t much feel like having to determine what could and couldn’t go in the bin from a very selective list. Austin started out that way, but about three months back they replaced all the tiny curbside bins with gigantic 90 gallon wheeled cans, and they pretty much take anything, and there is no sorting involved. That caters to even lazy old me… make it easy, and more people will get on board.
The bottom line is this: gardening is frankly a bit of fun, even at this early stage in the game. It’s fascinating to take the seeds and watch them sprout — it’s like a magic trick. The work involved leads to a tremendous sense of satisfaction, and you want to shout “Look what I did! Me! The guy who killed a Chiapet in elementary school!” And then at the end of it all, you have tasty things to enjoy.
Now excuse me, I have a shirt to go tie-dye.
“If you see Kay
Tell him he may
See you in tea
Tell him from me.”– James Joyce, Prison Gate Girls in Ulysses