Deviant Dispatches

Hi all - been a while. Distractions abound. I'm trying to get back into the swing of it - I haven't had a blogging hiatus like this since I started this up in 2011. Time to regroup, which may happen in fits and starts, but I'll do my best. What's been distracting me? Well, you know. Life. My next couple of posts will feature a lot of backlog, and mostly pictures, as I find it easier to get a post going when there's an image to go with it. First: the great outdoors. Earlier this summer, Spousal Unit and I decided to make good use of our fire pit. We proceeded to buy a ton of logs from the grocery store. You know, the paper-wrapped ones they sell next to the coolant and motor oil. (That should have been a clue.) One night, Spousal Unit didn't just put out the fire: he hosed it out, dumping the ashy water onto our yard. We ended up with dead grass and weird mushrooms. (Not quite a fairy ring.) So that's gross and disturbing, and we're never b...

As the weather gets nicer, the weekends get better and better. Kale egg bake The cats get full use out of all the windows (though Titania is still getting a bit too much use out of the basement ceiling, which leads to her getting stuck above the furnace and in the walls). Oberon gets terribly jealous that we're allowed outside and he isn't - he meows plaintively at the windows and follows us as we roam. I think he's loud enough for the neighbors to hear. So much bloomed this weekend. I now have tulips and poppies to go with my daffodils, hyacinths, and bleeding hearts. We mowed the lawn for the first time this weekend with our new electric mower - I'm quite fond of it, despite the cord. It's just like vacuuming, but more detrimental if you run over it. I mowed a lopsided half of the yard on Saturday, as we discovered that the 50-foot extension cord wasn't long enough. Rather than run back out immediately, we decided to finish the rest on ...

Spousal Unit has wanted to make pancakes out on the patio since we moved in. Perhaps a bit strange, yes, but it sounded fun, too, and his unusual creativity is wonderful. So I mixed up the batter and told him to be careful of bird flyovers. And he made pancakes, which we ate on our patio in the warm sun, surrounded by encroaching greenery that I haven't yet bothered to prune. After, I went to my cousin's baby shower. It was fun to see lots of family in a more unusual context (a bowling alley). Brooke and I with our spicy, decadent bloody marys. The next morning for Mother's Day, we started out with mimosas. Brooke's was a little pale. Neal was disapproving, as usual. We finished it off with a trip to River Bend Winery. It was good to see Mom so happy.

The weekend was forecast to be rainy, or at least gloomy, and I was immensely glad that it was wrong. Rather than clouds and the chill expectation of days indoors, it was sunny and warm(er) both days. Spousal Unit and I played frisbee, went for walks, and enjoyed the cheer of spring. The first waft of freshly cut grass drifted through our green-but-not-that-green lawn, and there are beautiful daffodils and johnny jump ups and soon-to-be irises that I neither planted nor watered, but I'm taking credit for them all the same because they are mine and I can. We found a new-to-us chair for $10 which suits the library beautifully. I've put it by a window, where it can look out at all the shelves while I sit and write. *The title of this post comes from a poem by Margaret Hillert .

Dear Former House Owners, I'd like to thank you for the following items you so kindly decided to bequeath to us, for whatever reason. Patio table with six chairs Fire pit Seven-foot metal windmill that makes me hear this in my head Framed photo of the backyard in summer, to taunt us in this false spring Moon-shaped hanging candle holder Several children's art projects behind the closet door, as well as a Buzz Lightyear poster Child's skis and ski poles, abandoned on a top shelf in basement storage Hot pink Victoria's Secret robe, made with the tears of Sri Lankan children Random chunks of asphalt in the yard A furnace fan that will not shut up What I assume is at least eight years worth of dust I have to admit, it's weird to think about these things as though you left them to us on purpose. It's also awkward to think of you leaving them accidentally--or for any reason. Here's how I imagine some of your conversations going. Left on Purpose ...

Every day, the sun sets. Right now, I can think of a dozen poems and a dozen poets right for the occasion. But I have no words of my own. It's one of those times when I'm glad for other writers in the world - people who've been there before me, to give voice to feelings I can't articulate. Their efforts are a soothing balm in difficult times, though they can't heal on their own. I could go on. I could consider the cyclical nature of life, delve into memory, pound out words with a soft fury that I don't understand. But the most peaceful thing right now is in knowing that the sun will set today, just like it has for millennia past. Not everything has changed. But enough has. *** I wrote the above a week ago, the day my grandma passed away. In some ways, it's still unreal. In others, I'm both relieved for her and devastated for everyone who loved her. Since then, I've been to her visitation and funeral and seen first hand all the lives she...

Moving is a complex, stupid animal. There are a billion things to stress over and twice as many people to complicate things and get in your way. Throw in first-time home ownership, and it makes my usual level of worry seem like wondering what to have for lunch: inconsequential and minute. (Minute is my new favorite word lately, I think. Sorry. Or not sorry. Too busy worrying to parse it out.) In these times, destitute of peace of mind, I find two things helpful: writing and thinking about the positives. This at least temporarily gets my mind off the stress and helps me remember why I'm putting myself through such a terror-inducing process in the first place. In the new house, I won't have to worry about whether the landlord is going to charge us for replacing the carpet that the cats have demolished. I'll just have to either live with it or replace it myself, which means no reliance on someone else's fickle policies. (Thankfully, there's little carpet in the n...

Welcome to today, brought to you by those fine folks (or single entity, or electrons, or whatever) who brought you yesterday and, presumably, tomorrow. Last week, I decided that the apartment wasn't so bad, compared to the nightmarish mountain of responsibility soon to be thrust upon me by home ownership. I could tolerate things like a random leak appearing in the ceiling directly over the papers I needed for my mortgage. I could withstand the thunka thunka thunka  of hideous music at disgusting decibels for three hours of my Saturday morning. The repair crew not understanding that I want the bathroom fan to work, rather than having the mold cleaned off the walls? Acceptable - at least the walls were cleaned. Doing it all myself is a daunting prospect, especially when it involves having zero dollars for an undetermined period of time. I know this is part of the process and I'll get over it; I'm just glad to have a few weeks to think about it all and let it sink in, rath...