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Blame The Blue-Haired Witch
[warning: standard “I haven’t blogged for a long time and this is my lame apology slash explanation” is forthcoming. Scroll down to the good stuff.] Benign neglect, that’s what we’ll call this, shall we? Oh, and my x365 project is going to take me three or four years at this rate, isn’t it? Sort of negates the whole “posting daily” idea. Oh well. I’ll still continue them. Hacking away until they’re exactly 100 words has been rather fun, and certainly the trips into the recesses of my memories have been interesting. When I was nine I was in the 4th grade. Do the math a minute; I need to point…
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100 x365 #11: Mossy Teeth
Pardon me for using that nickname; you probably were never aware of it. You were … enthusiastic. About a lot of stuff. Catching criminals, the high price of ball cocks (that always made me smirk), the terrible way the landscapers treated the grass. We worked together for over a year. Because of your willingness to parse the price of ball cocks, I got promoted and lots of good press for knowing how to put together a budget. Did you ever get to be a police officer? Or are you still stuck in a loveless marriage, plunging apartment toilets and changing locks?
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Resurfacing
Yes, I’ve been busy. I’ve been doing this. And I’ve been doing this. And also I’ve been spending hours a day writing for the upcoming supersecret website I can’t tell you about yet. Except that it’s related to this one. Also, I haven’t been at home for awhile. Matthew and I have been traveling. Yay for traveling. *Cough*. I went to a spiritual workshop thing, where I manned the recording device. Like they really needed someone to do that (push “record,” push “stop” at the appropriate times—really difficult and oh so technical), but I was grateful to be there and I am sure I got something out of it. Not…
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100 x365 #10: Jordache Shorts Guy
I admit, it’s sad that I can’t remember your name. Your shirts had tiny alligators embroidered on the chests and your shorts were much too short, even allowing for the style of the time. They left little to the imagination; was that your intent? You were good at ping pong, but not as good as I was. The little smirk you wore disappeared and all that was left was the inevitable business degree you’d undoubtedly got while you left yourself behind to sit in meetings, longing to ditch your windsor-tied striped neckwear for those Izods and your tight green shorts.
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You Can Totally Die From Not Sleeping
Which is how I feel just now. Like dying. Or is it lying? Lying down, to be more specific. This “let’s wake up at 2 am and be awake for hours yet be totally unproductive at the same time” thing is getting to me. So if my brain had a “slow” function, which it evidently does, it would be operating that way right now. And it is. Slowly. Hey. I had a thought. Want to hear what I did this morning from about 1:30 am to 5:30 am? Sure you do. Here: 1. Created a new blank page in Word and quickly downloaded the thoughts that were keeping me awake. …
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Red Red Rainboots
I took a walk in the rain today. That in itself is nothing spectacular: this is Vancouver and it rains here a lot. To avoid rain, one would have to stay inside from mid-September through April or May, and I’m unwilling to do that. Luckily, most people here have a similar regard (or is it disregard?) for rain, and people can be seen out in it all the time. I walked through the neighborhood I live in, enjoying the feel of the drops falling on my hooded head, and the quietness that rain brings. Sure, people are out in it but from necessity, not joy. I was walking in the…
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100 x365 #9: John C.
Judging by your website, your clients would find it hard to believe that you once pedaled to school with your pals on unicycles, dressed in identical denim jackets sporting embroidered pythons on the back. A gang? Hardly. You were denizens of Monty Python, smart and awkward nerd-kids. You wrote clever semi-erotic prose starring my best friend and pushed it through the vents in her locker, oblivious to her blushes. When you later turned your attention on me I found it puzzling, sitting there with you on my front lawn one summer before we all went separate ways in high school.
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100 x365 #8: That Boss From Tulsa
You were responsible for the faux Texas accent I adopted for two full years, the one that seemed real because it got stronger as I got drunker. Every morning you’d ask someone to pop open your can of Pepsi; with your 3-inch nails you couldn’t manage it. I emulated you too much (except for the nails; I could never get into even painting mine let alone the weekly maintenance) and when you got distinctly colder after I hit on your ex-husband in the hot tub on your birthday, I figured out you weren’t over him and I went too far.
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Seeing Things
I wrote once about the tricks my eyes play on me. Actually, I think it’s my brain playing the tricks, taking in one thing and turning it into something else. It results in humorous doubletakes, mainly while driving, as I morph passing signs into words and phrases very different from what was intended. My brain plays other tricks on me, creating still small snapshots that burst into my heart, impaling me. We were at Ikea the other day and a family was approaching, going downstream to our up. There were children and a mom and a cart, but my eyes were on the prancing girl coming toward me, Serena-sized from…
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100 x365 #7: Mrs. Fuller
A five-year old kid with a sense of humor based on wordplay, I was endlessly amused by your name which also described your physique; you were not a small woman. I’m not sure we ever had an actual conversation; my contributions tended toward raising my hand for the bathroom, a ritual I thought peculiar, and avoiding asking about the necessity of coloring shapes outlined on paper and then cutting them out with useless blunt scissors. I was too good for that place and it was a relief being told to report to the first grade room, leaving behind kindergarten forever.