Calgon?

Calgon?

(via betheyogurt)

In good company

I see I wasn’t the only sucker wide awake at 3am. That seriously sucked, and every time I started to doze back off, the dog jumped off the bed to scratch. I don’t know when he started doing that, but I think he thinks he’s being considerate to not scratch and shake the bed violently. Unfortunately, he usually ends up leaning right up against the edge of the bed, so I still get earthquaked awake. In between I was freaking out about the 70 minute presentation I have to give in three weeks that I haven’t begun to write, never mind build the visuals, and now I’m taking this poetry class again, and have a this musical in which I play three distinct characters, and have to learn four songs — one in Portuguese. No. For real. One in Portuguese. Oh, and still haven’t done my taxes, and the garden is upchucking so much food that needs to be processed, and market work is getting left in the dust of my mental breakdown due to the impending separation, maybe divorce. I could not shut my brain off, but refused to get up and work on anything. Now I need to get packed up for the market, and try to not behave as if Roseanne Barr hit me in the head with a cast iron skillet, because that’s pretty much what I’m feeling like at the moment. I made coffee and it’s the weakest pot of coffee ever. How does that happen? I measured. I ground it the same way I always grind it. Coffee gremlins had to have taken some out of the press before I added water. Today is going to be 90 degrees with 85% humidity, so that should be loads of fun working outside. I hope I don’t say anything mean to anyone who asks me why we don’t have bananas and avocados at our producer’s only market, because they don’t think they should have to make two stops if they’re going to support local farmers. OK, OK, nobody has said that this season. Yet. 

Hey, all you insomniacs… let’s all go try to be functional members of society today, shall we? 

::THUD:: 

Chin on the chair arm helping with his gag reflex? It’s doing nothing for mine.

Chin on the chair arm helping with his gag reflex? It’s doing nothing for mine.

Somebody has a belly ache because he discovered after a year and a half of living here that there are stairs behind that one door that lead to several boxes of what he probably thinks of as almond rocher candies, but are in fact litter crusted cat shit. Glad I scooped earlier in the day. Burp in my face again dog, and you’re sleeping outside.

Somebody has a belly ache because he discovered after a year and a half of living here that there are stairs behind that one door that lead to several boxes of what he probably thinks of as almond rocher candies, but are in fact litter crusted cat shit. Glad I scooped earlier in the day. Burp in my face again dog, and you’re sleeping outside.

un-gif-dans-ta-gueule:

Rumba Abierta (1960)

current status in my head…

un-gif-dans-ta-gueule:

Rumba Abierta (1960)

current status in my head…

(via vintagegal)

weepieschagall:

Here We Make Love, Paul Gauguin (1893)

weepieschagall:

Here We Make Love, Paul Gauguin (1893)

(via mamitah)

Addendum

I’ll require a bucket of syphilis coated broken glass and rusty nails to dip the eye-fucker in before penetration. 

Just going to put this right here:

Fuck everything in the eye.

Focus on the shadow and the light.

Focus on the shadow and the light.

Relevant.

do-over:

*ding*

DING DING DING DING
Ding

do-over:

*ding*

DING DING DING DING

Ding

Sunset

Sunset

Evening in the garden…

Evening in the garden…

I had a full-blown sciatica flareup again last night, and it was so bad that I decided to take one of the muscle relaxants from my episode last summer. Now I have a serious case of cotton head. The fogginess is so intense, that I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.

After Lila left for the bus at 10 till 7 this morning, I climbed back into bed and slept for two more hours with the window open and a cool breeze blowing across my face. The neighborhood was strangely silent for a Thursday. No lawn care equipment motors running, no street sweepers, garbage, or recycle collection trucks. Very little traffic. Just the sweet sound of crickets, birds, cicadas, an occasional child’s voice from an open window. I heard all of that in my sleep, I think.

When I finally made myself peel away from the mattress and took the dog for his morning walk, I was actually chilly without a sweater. My sour cherry tree lost about 1/3 of its leaves overnight, and the tree line out behind us is beginning to turn color. 

Winter is coming. 

Now I’m waiting for a friend to arrive so we can trade farm eggs for pickles, and it’s all I can do to not curl up on the couch and drift away again. The good news, I guess, is that the sciatica is quite a lot better this morning. I’ll keep doing pigeon pose to stretch the hip out, and try not to sit too much today, which will be challenging with how tired I feel. Guess I should process the 25 more cucumbers I picked last night - maybe a batch of Korean kimchee pickles. 

Not gonna nap. Nope. Definitely not gonna nap. 

coyotesqrl:


embracethelost:

kfedup:

damndanm:

I have never been happier for my sobriety than the moment I saw this horror.

Gack.

I have had this before. You know how some types of terrible alcohol can be “fixed” by what you choose to mix it with? Not so with this abomination.

Okay, okay…Imma fix this…
Bagel Boilermaker
Yeasty hefeweisen
salted rim
tomato juice
cocktail onion
shot glass of Smoked Salmon vodka
puke bucket


Obligatory reblobbing because Richard made me laugh loudly enough to wake the dog, and stupid tumblr won’t allow me to click my loving appreciation on a post more than once, because tumblr is a cheezedick.

coyotesqrl:

embracethelost:

kfedup:

damndanm:

I have never been happier for my sobriety than the moment I saw this horror.

Gack.

I have had this before. You know how some types of terrible alcohol can be “fixed” by what you choose to mix it with? Not so with this abomination.

Okay, okay…Imma fix this…

Bagel Boilermaker

  • Yeasty hefeweisen
  • salted rim
  • tomato juice
  • cocktail onion
  • shot glass of Smoked Salmon vodka
  • puke bucket

Obligatory reblobbing because Richard made me laugh loudly enough to wake the dog, and stupid tumblr won’t allow me to click my loving appreciation on a post more than once, because tumblr is a cheezedick.