Deviant Dispatches

For the life of me, I can't remember why there are little sparkly things on the left side of this shot. The logical answer is they're the Christmas lights, reflecting on the window. But we don't have lights hung in that pattern. Therefore, I have taken a picture of UFOs at sunset, which is a first for me. As far as I know.

This morning, it is -15F. The wind chill is -35. I am focused on more important things at the moment, and creativity through language (at least, as crafted by me) seems unimportant, trivial. I've been fighting some kind of illness for about a week. My month-old nephew is in the hospital. Smaller things, like the apartment still being a mess from Christmas, add to the distractedness.  I'm going to be somewhat idiotic and brave the cold today. So you get sunsets. They're filler, but they're good filler. Stay warm, everyone.

From the bedroom as he's getting ready, I hear Spousal Unit yell, "Mah mouth is bleedin', Bert!" This makes me smile. Allow me to explain. A few nights ago, we watched It's a Wonderful Life. I had hot buttered rum for the first time, which I loved (needs more butter). At the end of the movie, George first realizes that he's back in his own reality when he notices his mouth is bleeding, and Jimmy Stewart is such a delightful actor that Spousal Unit couldn't help wanting to imitate the way he said that line. That line epitomizes the feel of the whole movie, in some ways. George is happy to know his mouth is bleeding because he knows he's living the life he's supposed to be; in the midst of it all, he's once again surrounded by the blessings and troubles that make up his own life, and he knows the blessings outweigh the troubles. That's a great movie for when you're fighting depression. Even when I'm not depressed, that movie m...

Some days, I wake up tired. Tired of the day-to-day. Tired of eight hours, commutes, tiny unsolvable word problems. Tired of not being able to do it all at home. Some days, I'd rather stay in bed. Tired of cats knocking over plants, clawing carpet, biting the beads off of my skirts, using my hands as a launch pad. Tired of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Tired of The Voice in my Head that says it's not good enough, you have to keep going, you have to do more, or else. Some days, I don't want to move for weeks. Tired of depression. Tired of bad feelings ambushing me on a beautiful day. Tired of little things making me into a Midwestern Hulk. Tired of remembering my faults for years on end. Some days, the sunrise takes that all away. On days when it doesn't, there's always poetry .

Some days begin more slowly. The morning arrives like a thing on wheels, an apocalyptic engine heralding the day's doom. Plodding through sleepy, cracked eyelids to see early winter's dark gloom is the first unjustice; bitter floor that shocks warm feet is the second. Perhaps the day goes on like this. A shoelace breaks. The ice on the windshield has strong fortifications, and you're already running late. You're convinced the commute is one sentient being, rising up against your well-meaning rush to crush what little spirit is left. And the work day hasn't even begun. So the day might continue indefinitely, until you lie down to sleep again, exhausted. But perhaps there's something there, something early on, that breaks through the crust of disgruntlement you've used to shield against bombardment. Perhaps all you really needed was one bit of glory--one moment of peace.

This morning is going to be trying. The kitties are going to the vet for a check-up, and last time I had to take them, Oberon wet himself in the two blocks to the vet. This time we're going to a vet we like better, who is farther away, but hopefully it will mean better comfort for them overall. Regardless, it's hard to hear them meow at me from within their carriers like I'm driving them to Auschwitz. So zen and peace is a good way to start the day. Source

It was a good weekend for sunsets Pepin, Wisconsin

Sometimes, little things are really amazing to me. Look at the clouds here - wisps of moisture floating through the sky, carried on high currents of wind to a place far from us, far from now, where they will fall as rain, rise to the sky again, fall as snow, and evaporate, over and over. Some particles might abandon the cycle to be one with a lake or a stream. But they will eventually join the same cycle again. I am amazed that conditions on this planet are right for such a complex system, not to mention all the others in the sky and on the ground and in the oceans. And I am amazed that those little wisps of moisture can be so beautiful while ignoring gravity.

Today seems like a good day for a sunset, doesn't it? A happy little sunset. We'll put in a few streaks of color here, add the edges of a nice little apartment building. And we'll give her a friend. Another happy little sunset. We'll make this one a little brighter, give it more cadmium yellow, less pink, but plenty of blue sky. And here we'll put a couple of trees in a little group. Nice and close together, so they can watch the sky together. And now you'll see happy little trees all the way to work. They line every street.

I accidentally turned off my alarm in the morning, resulting in more sleep than I meant to get and a dream about Steve Buscemi in my former college dorm. It was significantly creepy, but the really weird thing is that's the second time I've had a dream with him in it in the last week. (I won't say it was a dream about  him; it was more like he picked the lock to my subconscious and hijacked my imagination. Not okay, Steve Buscemi. So to get my mind off of that before work, here are a couple of random items. First is a leaf from one of my basil plants. It's ginormous. Second, a sunset. Sunsets are a good balm for bad dreams.

Friday has needed to be here since Monday. Here is your reward for making it this far. 1. Bunny. 2. Last night's sunset, from the old hunting grounds. 3. An odd personification of a caterpillar. Early Stages: "This leaf tastes great! So does this one! And this one!" Middle Stages: "I'm so hungry. It's like I can't get full enough. Do I eat because I'm fat or am I fat because I eat?" Later Days: "WTF? Where is this weird stringy stuff coming from?" Shortly After: "AUGH! I have a compulsive desire to encase my body in it! I don't want to!" In the Cocoon: "Must ... control ... claustrophobia ..."

Here's another shot I recently took of the sunset that wasn't pointed at the west. These clouds are in the east, spreading out like they're going to envelop the entire sky in radiance. Later this week, I should have another update on the novel for you. I'm nearing the end of my read through and getting ready to make the changes - to improve the whole of it yet again. I really hope someone besides me will enjoy this in the end.

Sometimes, we look so studiously toward the sun for bright colors and an astounding display of nature that we forget to look at the clouds all around. They are often the most beautiful parts of the sunset, the clouds at our backs, splayed with lily orange to the East. Today, look for beauty in strange places. That tree you drive past every day - doesn't it have the most amazing bend in one branch? When was the last time you noticed the flower pots downtown? Keep an eye out for a shade of green that makes you dreamy-eyed, or a parent and child having the most fun of their lives. Let that be your anchor for today.

It's one of those days already. I had yesterday off, have to work today, and am looking forward to the weekend already. I was randomly awake and couldn't sleep for an hour last night. And it doesn't help that last night, Spousal Unit did the thing where he sneakily kept refilling my wine when I wasn't looking, thereby making me drink an entire bottle by myself.  I usually have only one glass. Per week. Food does not seem like the best thing in the world this morning, nor am I very smiley at that guy. Needless to say, today is going to feel very long indeed. So here are some fluffy clouds and a sunset for you to enjoy. Have an awesome weekend.

Last weekend, my sister Rachel married her loving partner of ten years, Max. It was wonderful to see the two of them so happy. The dress her mom made (by hand, composed of two different patterns!) was gorgeous and perfect for her. It was also wonderful to take some great pictures, like this one of Max breaking the glass at the end of their ceremony. Mazeltov! The decorations were exquisite. I got some priceless shots of her screaming at how much it tickled when Max removed the garter. Spousal Unit got his dance on pretty hard. And Rachel danced with her daddy. The weather was amazing all day. Everyone was sure it was going to get rained out - the radar was red for pretty much all of Wisconsin for Saturday. Instead of rainy, it was slightly overcast and cool during the ceremony, while we were outside. A dozen drops fell right after, and then the sun came out while the party took pictures. It was the perfect turn of events, leading to this won...

I really ought to put some effort into writing a nice post for y'all this morning. But the sky is so dreary, and it's pouring quite steadily outside. I slept late and want to keep sleeping, even though this is the start of a four-day week and my workday will be shorter than usual. I do have to give myself some writing slack: I missed a day this weekend, but what I wrote yesterday was so strange and remarkable and ... disturbing.  It might seriously be the best part of my book. So. When it comes to writing, I can take a break now and then. Especially when I'll be finishing this book in a few days. Then come the edits. For now, though, we have only sunsets.

A friend pointed out that I haven't posted sunset pictures in quite a while. This is partially because with the changing of the seasons, the sun has moved out of range in the evening. Much like the Death Star waited on Yavin, we at the Batcave now wait for the sun to move back in range. Or we could, you know, go outside . This sunset was the day of my friend's wedding. They are the same sunset.

Don't be deceived by the sunset picture; we haven't actually seen the sun here all week. (Okay, maybe twice, but it was through rain clouds.) The lack of sun is starting to grate on me, which is why I'm so glad it's Friday and I'm going to the farm to help with wool. I'll spend the whole time waiting for the sun to peek its head out, and then I'm going to soak up all the vitamin B I can. And all the rest of the weekend, I'll be cuddling my kitties, traumatized from their vet trip, and giving them extra treats. At least their test turned out well.

Lately, these have gone by too quickly. I blinked and March blew away in a wintery haze. I sighed, and the first few days of April vanished. I've been looking forward, forward, so much lately that time is passing unnoticed, and I didn't realize it until a month had disappeared. Each moment is a memory, and I've been forgetting to enjoy, to savor, to bask. I want to remember more sunsets.

I wrote an excellent blog this morning, but at the last minute, I've decided to save it for later. So instead, you get this. I took it last week, before all of Wisconsin became a winter wonderland again.