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An Announcement

Drumroll please

I have an announcement to make.

I, Nameless Author of Rosemary & Cameron,

AM NOT A SOPHISTICATED PERSON.

And I’m okay with that.

I’m okay with preferring a bright pink trench coat to a gray one, or a lime green jacket to a black one.

I’m okay with wearing athletic sandals instead of heels.

I’m okay with keeping my hair in a style that requires nothing but a brushing and a hairclip to prepare it, and with wearing makeup that doesn’t require scrubbing to remove.

I’m okay with reading books that my English major friends sneered at, and with listening to music that my orchestrally-talented sister finds stupid.

I’m okay with having stuffed animals on my dashboard and Wolverine toys on my desk.

I’m okay with liking recycled grocery bags better than attache cases, and with preferring a lemon yellow purse to brown leather.

I can dress like the others if I want. I can put on heels and pressed gray trousers and a black leather coat and a smart little purse if I want. I can wield a bottle of hairspray as well as the next girl. I can read Hemingway and Plath and Rand other books of the approved canon. (Sorry, can’t bring myself to imagine reading Rand. Even I have my limits.)

But I can do something they can’t. I can also dress in striped knee socks and hugely-floraled broom skirts and boys’ hoodies with thumb holes in the cuffs. I can also wear silicone wolf fangs and a furry hat, or a blue wig and a superman cape. I can paint my toenails hot pink or purple or lime green or black or cherry red or Bronco blue. I can drive to orchestra rehearsal – because while not orchestrally-talented, I hold my own – while rocking out to Usher and Flo Rida and Kanye and the Eagles and Hillfolk Noir and Third Eye Blind and Rockapella. I can stand up in front of an audience and make a fool of myself with a grin on my face.

Why? Because I’m not sophisticated, and I don’t care what you think, because I am too damned busy having a good time and living my own damned life.

Note to Self

My maternal grandmother was over 30 when she had her first child – in the 1950s. Had all her babies lived, she would have had seven children, all well after her 30th birthday. Just because I live in Crazyville where everyone is married by 19 and filling minivans with six kids by the time they’re my age does NOT mean that I’m the weird one or that I’m out of time.

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Lust and Libraries

The word “pornography” comes from the mid 1800s and is derived from the Greek; porne meaning prostitutes and graphos, of course, referring to writing. Actually, porne is more literally “bought or purchased,” but the connotation is clearly toward prostitution [link]. Of course, modern parlance has warped the concept of pornography from “writing about prostitutes” to “images of gratuitous and often deviant sexual acts,” so there’s that. But the term has also been reclaimed for less X-rated purposes, such as the infamous Porn for Women book. (And lemme tell you what – if you want to spice up your blogging, try to Google the “porn for women” book to find the correct title – yikes.)

None of this – I tell you, NONE of this – can possibly compare to my new favorite website: Bookshelf Porn. Some of my favorites:

 

 

 

Boise, We’ll Stand and Cheer for You

How do you not love a football team with the chutzpah of Boise State?

BSU football

To be fair, watching Boise State play is sometimes better cardio than an hour of step aerobics where the instructor periodically and without warning transforms into the worst beasts of your scariest nightmares. I can’t help but think that Bronco football would be more enjoyable for someone who didn’t actually care about the outcome; having an emotional (or otherwise) investment in Bronco victory practically ensures stressful game nights.

GIS renders up some pretty excellent images from Monday’s epic game vs. Virginia Tech. Without further ado, I present

My Top Five Photos of Boise State Beating Virginia Tech

(shamelessly stolen from various websites)

Good boy, Kellen

Good boy, Kellen! Who’s a good boy?

 

scared cheerleader

Ahhhh!!!!!!! Why am I scared?!?!?

booyah

If you do this to geese, they run away - does it work on hokiebirds?

antigravity

No fair using antigravity cleats, boys.

in your face

I AM EXTREMELY PLEASED ABOUT THE OUTCOME OF THIS SPORTING EXERCISE.

Holy cannoli. Does anyone else think being #3 after the first game is totally and completely surreal?

Affirmation

I am independent, although less so than I’d like to think. I like being outdoors. I like being on top of mountains and underneath trees. I like driving the boat like a madwoman. I like pretty things that look like spiders, goofy hats, and things that have wings. I’ve never grown out of loving horses. I love books. I would rather wear sandals than shoes. I like classical music, Latin jazz, didgeridoo, instrumental movie soundtracks, Rob Thomas, Pink Floyd, Elton John, and Melissa Etheridge. I like Rusted Root, too, and I like the Black Eyed Peas and some Kanye. I like to sing along to the radio. I like to dance along to the radio if I think no one can see. I like to write and I’m good at it. I still like to snuggle up with a pastel-colored afghan. I’m picky about socks but not about my hair. I’m a little bit goth. I’m a lot geek. I would rather face things head-on with a devil-take-all smile than to turn my back and let hell overtake me. I like to be in control except in matters of romance. I am a load of contradictions. I want to ride horses. I want to see a bull moose in the wild. I want to be a better photographer. I want to be a more diligent writer. I want to be a tidier housekeeper. I want to be a mom. I want to plant bulbs and have daylilies fill my yard every year. I want to learn to play guitar, or maybe fiddle, or maybe drumset, or definitely jazz piano. My blood runs cold and electric when I hear a marching band. I agree with Harry Dresden: people suck, but persons are worthwhile. I’m not good at being friends, but I’ll be your most loyal defender. I believe in right and wrong and many shades in between. I believe in glory in victory and in defeat and in just trying. I have a hero complex. I could cut pictures out of magazines for days on end. I am a spiritual, happy, deep-breathing, loud-clapping, quiet-sitting person. I am a Wolf, but only in some ways. I believe in something like magic and something like ghosts. I believe in myself. I believe that everything is going to be okay.

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September?

Is it really September already? Or finally? One of those two things…. We’ve had quite the cold snap these past few days, so a person would be forgiven for thinking it was mid-October.

School is settling down a little. They just switched around 20 kids in my classes yesterday, which was frustrating, and I’m still getting kids transferred from other English teachers – also really frustrating – but I guess no one actually expects me to be able to teach this first MONTH of school or anything. Good grief.

Not regretting taking this semester off from college ONE IOTA. Wishing the Mr. didn’t feel like he needed to take 12 credits, six of which are graduate courses; he’s going to be stressed out and cranky all semester, and I’m not looking forward to that very much.

I’m excited about working on the house. I’m figuring out a way to connect my “vision” to the color scheme I’ve wanted in the living room (an aqua/turquoise with an orangey-red that I think might be called cimarron) as well as the colors already in the living room furniture, which I can’t replace right away (navy, some sage green). The floors are “red oak” and the fireplace is more of a mahogany, none of which really helps the situation, but I’m not worried about all that very much.

Now I just need to find a bunch of smallish, cheap, okay-if-they’re-broken, busts. Not the sort you put in a bodice. This sort of thing:

And not particularly nice quality, either. Because I’ll never be able to bring myself to take a really nice one and SPRAY PAINT IT HOT PINK. Okay, maybe not hot pink. But still. Going to have a hard time convincing myself to spray paint marble. Plaster all the way, no?

Need to find something really special for Mom for her birthday, but not having much luck lately… hmmm…

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Some are baffled, but that one is not - that one knows me.