A and I have realized that the era of Disco Station has come to an end. Our lives have changed so much since we first started, young and single and full of political venom and alcohol and questionable decisions about men. We've been trying to keep the magic alive but it's just not happening here.
But! We've both found new spaces to write in.
So if you'd like to keep following our ramblings, just email us directly at our respective personal emails for the info.
Thanks for seven years!
A few bursts of heat followed by a week's worth of rain followed by another burst of heat equals a prodigal summer around here. Over the past couple of weeks it's been wild kingdom in our backyard: a hawk chases a fox chasing a squirrel into the woods. A woodchuck trundles around the lawn. A deer picked its way across the edge of the woods two nights in a row.
And closest of all, the loudest tiny frog that ever lived is currently in residence in our pool. Our pool that is being cleaned for the summer. It was growing distinctly pond-like, with a pond smell and a pond swarm of bugs on top, but this little frog takes the cake. He sits on the pool steps and hollers for a ladyfrog every five minutes from 8 pm til I fall asleep.
Given my recent bout of excess empathy for everything in the world, I have been feeling pretty strongly that the frog needs to leave the pool before it becomes toxic with chemicals. The FYD was scooping leaves and prepping the filter and I ran out at dusk to say STOP BEFORE YOU SHOCK RESCUE THE FROG!!! And we spent a few minutes of comedy trying to chase a frog with a pool scooper thing and then I got too many mosquito bites and went inside, frogless.
An hour later, the FYD came inside and reported that he had indeed finally caught the amphibian and released him at the edge of our woods, not too far from a drainage stream that would make a fine new home. I went to sleep relieved.
And today went by as usual: Breakfast. Work. Hot. Thunderstorm. Commute. Bath and dinner for Little A. The FYD went out and Little A. went to bed.
I set about frantic nesting-style cleaning and cooking and more cleaning and the sun is going down and suddenly:
RIIIIIBBBIIIIIIITTTTT.
(The frog is not shying away from being a cliche. It really sounds like "ribbit.")
I pause. Listen.
RIIIIIIBBIIIIIITTT.
Close to the house. And again and again. Frog hollers.
The damn frog. Came back to the damn pool. Across a treacherous (I imagine, for a smallish animal) stretch of open lawn, through a wall of tall grass. Back to its home in our pool.
Sigh. One can only hope the bugger has an ounce of self-preservation.
Rockin the suburban wilderness -
xoxo, A
Andrea D Laundry...again. A few glasses of wine and one of these Vicodins from my Dad's stash ought to make this more interesting.
About 20 minutes ago
Andrea D Has a major boner for David Duchovny in Californication. This show makes me want to move to Venice Beach and screw everything that moves while maintaining a BAC of at least .06 at all times. For just a few years, until I get too ugly.
About 45 minutes ago
Andrea D fucking loves PIZZA!!!11!!
About 2 hours ago
Andrea D Is enough of an asshole to order pizza delivery in a snowstorm. And liberalguilty enough to overtip like an asshole.
About 3 hours ago
Andrea D Wow. Who ever could have predicted that spreadsheets would be so interesting *hangs self*
About 4 hours ago
Andrea D says whatthefuck more goddamn doucheshitass cocksucking motherfucking dickpunching SNOW!!!! Fuck this I am moving to Maui. Coconut bras and daquiri hangovers for everyone!
About 5 hours ago
Andrea D Holy hell, this kid poops bigger than my 90 lb dog.
About 8 hours ago
Andrea D got laid last night! It was OK.
About 10 hours ago
What would you write if no one (but your most understanding friends) was watching?
xoxo, A
*because my mom is my Facebook Friend.
oh-no-fully yours, A
(who shall have much more to say tomorrow.)
(photo credit: Portland Press Herald)
Hey! You guys! Did you know it's election day? Didja? I bet you did.
This morning, after breakfast and Curious George and general Boynton-fueled tomfoolery, Little A., Floyd the greyhound and I set out a'strollin' to our local polling place. The FYD had stopped by even earlier and reported that the A-L line "was all kinds of LONG" so I girded my loins and prepped a snack pack for a long wait.
On the way, a pleasant older couple in an SUV flagged me down to ask where to vote. I almost asked them for whom they would vote before giving correct directions, but my impartial civic-minded conscience took over at the last minute.
We tied the doogie outside and trooped in, trailing teddy grahams and waving HI! to everyone (err...Little A. did anyway, I was too busy trying to remember my line-up for the referenda). We didn't have to wait long to vote though. 20 minutes later (it took a long time to remember the referenda, and then Little A. grabbed my pen and scribbled all over Question 4, so if legal immigrants get the vote in Portland you know what happened) we were back outside, avoiding eye contact with the up-for-election at-large City Councilwoman standing outside.
(Dudes, I felt so guilty not voting for her when she was standing out there! But, dudes! She fell asleep (or something scarier than sleep) during a council meeting! Asleep!)
(Politics are SO cutthroat.)
So yeah, here in Vacationland (like in my sistah-blogger's state), we're in mid-term election crazytown. The gubernatorial election has been SUPER contentious, all attack ads and shunned debates and thwarted press-conferences...oh wait, that's just ONE candidate. The one who scares me. This guy.
Ordinarily, I would not get so worked up about a governor (confession time: I've never even voted in a midterm election before!). But here in a state where the government is small, small, small, elected officials really do have an impact. And that guy? He's nuts. His leadership would send my already struggling homeland into a deeper spiral. Plus. He is soooo not smooth. We don't need to help perpetuate the dopey hay-seed stereotype, thankyouverymuch.
And while everyone I know is voting for this guy, I was reminded earlier that everyone I know also voted in support of gay marriage. And we know how that one went.
So here I sit, hitting refresh over and over and over on our local paper, streaming live video from our local station, watching the numbers fluctuate (the Dem just conceded) within very small percentage points....
And there is no way I am going to be able to stay awake til the end. Damn this 10 pm curfew! Someone text me later, OK?
xoxo, A
I just can't get enough of this meme and I hope it doesn't go away very soon. I realize that not only do soldiers around the world work their asses off in unbearable circumstances and climates, risk their lives as a matter of course on a daily basis, and endure realities of war that I hope to never be forced to comprehend, but that also? They have some free time to spare. I'm getting the feeling that a lot of these young soliders listen to pop music, and there's something about a catchy beat and something danceable that gets the creative juices going. I just started reading Sebastian Junger's book War, which is turning out to be a very eye-opening read about the impossibility of waging a war in mountain terrain, with plenty of humorous and endearing moments as well. What fascinates me most about these dance routines is that at times the interactions push the boundaries of what you think most macho, don't-ask-don't-tell policy-supporting military dudes* are comfortable with. They're true performers above all else, and I admire this.
*I'm generalizing here and have no stats to back me up, this is based on talking to random military males I meet in bars or parties and quiz uncomfortably about politics until the wee hours.
This is the one I caught on the internets the other day which renewed my interest in the phenom. Apparently the Israeli army has now banned dancing soldiers. Perhaps this is one reason why. Whatevs.
Here's how the yanks do it, again using my favorite Vegas trip anthem. Music, its universal!
This one, despite its homoeroticism, is almost community theater worthy, and I mean that in the best way (I support community theater!) Isn't the beefy guy just irresistible!?!
This video proves its been going on for a while, as its three years old. Not as much dancing but some interesting b-roll nonetheless.
I wonder if this is the same company or is this song just a great jam for working the streets of Iraq. I love how they're dancing while on patrol in the neighborhoods, confusing the locals but hopefully in a good way.
Perhaps it all started here?
E.
Text message received to my cell phone at 4:54 pm today, from a random NYC cell phone number:
Bitches like plyn tht ass whippn is gettn close so close mayb 2 nite tire ass wannab wont neva b slut
I don't want to be all, "kids these days," but seriously? What does this jibberish even mean? It's sort of threatening, right?
Please send interpretations and/or advice ASAP.
xoxo, yr neva b slut, A
I won't get all sentimental about it this time. Suffice it to say: two piles of feathers later, and half our flock's gone. The FYD had picked up some "spare"* chicks from our local farmers' union so we'll be back up to five layers in no time.
In the meantime, though -- the fox got the alpha hen so there is a power vacuum. The remaining chickens have been skirmishing and one of them's gone broody so none of them are laying. We don't dare let them out when we can't watch them superclosely, which has been not-at-all lately. SIGH. Is there such a thing as grief counselors for chickens? My mom has a masseuse for her horses, so we can't be too far away from that profession being real. For real.
SIGH.
We are, perhaps, not cut out to be gentleman farmers. I am meant to go out with a flashlight "several times" tonight to see if there is a caterpillar eating my rainbow chard, and FUCKTHATITISJUSTCHARDICANBUYITATFARMERSMARKET.
But I have set out: chard, 5 kinds of tomatoes, potatoes, raspberries, hardy kiwi, sunflowers, cucumbers, three kinds of peppers, two kinds of eggplant, and basil, (along with marigolds and nasturtium to draw away the veggie-predators) and waiting to be planted are zucchini, four types of squash, and pumpkins. Harvesttime, what what!
So, I'll do a tentative cross off to "grow things" on the ol' OLR. Anybody else gardening out there? Want to come look for caterpillars with me tonight? I'll bring wine! And DEET!
xoxo, A
*Every year people order chicks, pay for them, and then never pick them up. We got our hands on a couple of barred rocks before they were shipped off to a big chicken farm.
It's January what-th? Seriously? No. Way.
But it is. It's beyond the middle of the month, which means it is pretty much February, and that means it is almost spring! Right? Please? Ah, but no. We've just had the prettiest big snow. The slog continues.
I shall warn you now, this post is going to be an exercise in stream of consciousness randomness. It's just been a while and I feel like I Have So Much to Say! Like, right now, I just want to remark upon the shittiness of James Cameron's Golden Globes acceptance speech. Meryl Streep, on the other hand, is made of class. I want to be her when I grow up.
And THEN let's address CNN's coverage of the Haiti disaster. Other than Dr. Gupta, who is awesome, the reporters are just so...dumb. "This is so hard to cover," they keep saying, and yet the cameras, they do not turn away. You know what, I get it. It is awful, horrible, terrible, and my heart is broken in a million pieces for those poor people. But after a while, the relentless coverage makes me go a bit numb. Maybe I need a media break, or maybe I have built up a protective candy coating because I have this wee one slumbering in her crib. My rewired mama-brain cannot take too much misery.
But THEN I have to say how awesome is it that it is as simple as sending a text to help? So awesome. Thanks, technology.
So. Erf. I runned out of steam. I do have other things to say about hands, snow, and being social. I'll just leave you in suspense on that twaddle.
xo, A
People sometimes mistake us for sisters, but we like it better when they mistake us for bandmates.
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