Saturday, October 31, 2009

Happy Hoooooooowwwwwwwl-o-ween!

What happened to the spooky, rainy, dreary, Goth-inspired weather? We've had vampire weather for the last week. Today, the sun is shining brightly! Of course, the water still standing in the rows of the bean fields will simply be a swampy deterrent to zombies :) Can't you just see a rotting zombie body trying to walk across a field of boot-sucking mud? "Oops, there goes my left foot! Ouch, there goes my right!"

Seriously, I think I could write an entire post about mud, but I won't. I won't because my writing muse doesn't do well with this borrowed online time thing. I like to stew a bit, let the words simmer in my noggin. I write, backspace, then rewrite the same thing over again, only to decide on a better sentence hours later. That's a difference between words/paper and glass/flame. Torching is much more immediate, with some room for wiggle but only within a short time frame. Writing is always open for revision. Torching is always open for re-creating-- revising, not so much. Both are good for the soul :)

And there's my segue back into Halloween-- "soul." I do hope you do something good for your soul this Halloween/All Saints Day weekend. I'm sure there's another essay hiding in that dichotomy; I just know there's lots to explore there. Once again, I've been thinking about spirituality, organized religion, and how the two are, or are not, entwined. When I figure that out (and save the world at the same time, LOL), there's sure to be another lengthy, rambling essay from me. In the meantime, have a Happy Halloween! Find joy in life! Have fun!

Sunday, October 25, 2009

TopsyTurvyTown??

Seriously. Some days are headscratchers. That's all. Carry on with life as usual :)

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Welcome to the Dungeon. . .aka Ang's Library 2 B


Books. . . I have them.
Books. . . I love them.
Books. . . I miss them when they aren't within reach.
Flipping through pages of a gardening book in search of a familiar plant with a name that's hovering at the tip of your tongue, browsing a glass technique volume and keeping track of the names you've met online, or hunting through books of symbols for the perfect outline sketch to use as the base of a new design, no matter what I'm looking to find in a book, I am rarely disappointed.
Books. . . I want mine out of their boxes.
Books. . . no one else in our house is concerned about bookshelves the way I am.
Books. . . I'm unpacking mine in the basement and turning one end of those sublimely empty shelves into Ang's Dungeon Library.
I've always been a bit of a hobbit, so my little library will be a cozy home within our home for me :)

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

AngHairium? AngHaireon?




I think it is about time the world took notice and gave me credit for the discovery of a new element on the periodic table. It's a gas, I'm certain of it. I'm just not sure what the name should be. How do they determine names of new elements, anyway? The base name has to be AngHair, but I'm uncertain about the appropriate suffix. Should it be "-ium" or "-eon" or just "-on"?


What I have no doubt about is that my hair never fails to behave like a gas-- IT EXPANDS TO FILL THE SPACE IN WHICH IT IS CONTAINED. No sh*&. You know how molecules of a gas will spread out to fill a container, no matter the size or shape of the container? My hair will expand to it's greatest possible volume, no matter the size or shape of the haircut.


This is me after having my hair cut and styled yesterday afternoon. This is the only picture of it you'll get to see. I have a fat face (to go with the rest of the fat me), but the angle of this picture almost makes me look like a slim Greer child. The other pictures were more true to life, but you'll just have to imagine the effects of completely flat and straight hair on a chubby face. As another aside, let me say that yesterday marked the first time I have ever been given a tour of a salon before actually having my hair cut. Uh, excuse me, but I can see that you have six cutting stations, and I figured you'd get around to trying to sell me products when you met me at the cash register. Seriously, that was a tad bit on the weird side, given that the young woman who gave me the "tour" seemed eerily like one of the heavily eye-lined mannequins displayed alongside all the special products. Other than that awkwardness, I enjoyed talking to the actual stylist and felt she more than earned her pay by cutting through my unruly mop and then meticulously drying and ironing it.


And the problem is what, you ask? The problem is that I do not style my hair. As a matter of fact, I've even gotten to the point where turning on the blow dryer is too much hassle. Morning shower or nighttime bath, doesn't matter which, I let my hair airdry. I own various and sundry hairstyling implements, all of which are currently collecting dust in one box or another. Hot rollers? Got 'em. If big hair is ever needed, all I have to do is break out those puppies. My ever-expanding hair loves them. . .for at least fifteen minutes. Since I hate hairspray, the big curl effects all too quickly deflate, and my hair reverts back to it's own not-curly-but-not-straight self. Flat iron? Got it. I gave in and attempted to use it this morning after taking the bushy haired picture at the top of this post. No need for another picture. . .as per usual, my attempts to iron flat my hair ended with me spewing curse words and my hair sticking out at unnatural angles from the back of my head.
Feh. (Whatever that means. I just know it sounds like what I feel about the whole hair issue.)

Now that we've discussed the sad failure of the science community to name an element after my unruly hair, here are a few random Ang thoughts:

  • Give someone you love a hug today, if at all possible. That's just all around good advice.
  • Send my kids "I do like school" vibes, please. They don't like school, doesn't matter whether it's their old school or their new school. I like school. They think I've lost my mind. I just want them to enjoy their days. I don't think they are right now. Kate is having trouble adjusting to a completely different math book-- and math used to be her "easy" subject. James seems to bounce back and forth from not paying attention to how he does his work to making A's on tests. .. . kind of unsettled still.
  • Look for a blog post titled "The Ladybugs Have Won the Battle". Those little orange versions (are they really ladybugs, too?) have swarmed our deck and keep finding all the crevices between the french doors and the door jambs. Ack! I've heard ladybugs are good luck, but really!
  • Still doing the MickeyD's wi-fi plan, so my hour is about to expire. Better go! Hugs and kisses and good thoughts to all of ya!



Monday, October 19, 2009

Basement Storage Password-- CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

Reporting from Packrat Central, this is Angie Garren of TooMuchStuff2Mention, Inc. The pole building is still crammed with boxes that must have multiplied on the moving trailer, but the garage floor is increasingly visible in larger and larger spots as the Head Packrat puts away stuff, things, and junk. Her credo in the midst of finishing the moving tasks is NOTHING EXCEPT CHRISTMAS/SEASONAL DECORATIONS, TOUCH UP PAINT CANS, and THE KILN may be stored in the expanse of shelving in the basement. I'd like to show you a live shot of the basement, but it's really just a half-level of the house which contains the geothermal system, hot water heater, unused well pump, and a wall of floor to ceiling shelves.

I swear upon a stack of glass supply catalogs that I will not allow the basement to become another Packrat Central outpost. It shall remain uncluttered.

Oh, silly you, I *know* this is a tall order for this family! After all, I have in my stash such "essential" materials as two big boxes of outdated McCalls and Vogue patterns, a withered bouquet of dried flowers with no sentimental value, and long ago retired kids' potty. That's just the top of the pile.

Ahem... anyway. This basement is my one spot of spectacular spaciousness that isn't scheduled to be filled with furniture or random bags of yard sale goodies. Imakeepitdatway2.













Okay, so that's one 300 square foot area I plan to conquer. Sure makes me feel accomplished, as long as I don't think about the pole building looming at the edge of the yard, LOL.


Friday, October 16, 2009

Your Mission-- Tell Us All One Memory of Your Grade School

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to tell us all one story about your grade school years. Elementary, K-8, whatever it's called these days. . .you know, those years when you looked forward to your next birthday because it got you so much closer to being an actual teenager!
This is the elementary school I attended from the second half of second grade until the end of eighth grade. Mrs. Owsley and Mrs. South, you gave me a good start at Lynnevale, but good ol' Howevalley will always be my grade school. Miss Wimp, Miss Williams, Mr. Cantwell, Miss Mattingly, Ms. Howard, Coach Gardner, and finally ______________, thanks for all the shepherding and teaching and memorymaking. Good grief, I can't believe I just blanked on who was my eighth grade homeroom teacher. Was it Coach Gardner for seventh and eighth? Mr. Kral for homeroom and science and math? Mrs. Berenbroick? Mr. Roe (I think that was a new teacher's name from that last year?)?
GO, WILDCATS!
PURPLE AND GOLD 4-EVER!
My kids get tired of hearing Howevalley stories. They can read aloud just like a certain kid would do in fifth grade, syllable by excruciatingly monotone syllable in an effort to test the teacher's patience. They've driven by Howevalley and seen the way the playground is nowadays. They know Mom had to ride the bus to school. I think they know better than to tape their spelling word list to classroom window shades, and I think they know about my favorite teachers. They know about the slyly shaken up coke can that Miss Wimp kindly opened for a sneaky kid at lunch one day. They know we played lots of softball for P.E. and recess in fourth and fifth grades. They know dodgeball with the old fashioned red rubber balls was a real contact sport, LOL! I bore them to tears with all the reasons I loved school. . . so howzabout some of your stories?? Come on, you know you want to tell us!

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Moving Is Not for the Feint of Heart!


Helloooooooo, all my long lost interwebs friends! Well, actually, I guess I'm the long lost one. We're moved, but lots of little things on the to-do list are not quite done.
One thing I've discovered is that I don't mind not having an online connection UNTIL it's morning and time to sip my coffee and check in with my www friends and with family on Facebook. Dialup is going to have to be our option right now, but I had trouble getting it set up... imagine that, Angie having trouble with something new that she has to do with a computer, LOL.
Anyway, the kids are settling into school, the cats have decided they can venture outside from the security of their pole building world, and the mommy and daddy have resigned themselves to the idea that the house loan will be repaid before we find everything we wish we could find in the boxes!
Hope everyone is doing well! Catch up with ya soon!

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