Just got back from vacation, and I have lots to tell (if time allows!), lots of photos to share. I just have a moment for now, but wanted to post a picture of some gorgeous clouds I snapped from the airplane:
I'm in love.
I really can't say enough about how cool this thing really is.
]]>A friend of mine posted this on her blog recently, and I thought it was one of the most heartwarming things I'd seen in a long time.
The little old lady at 0:50? When she touches his face? It just gets me. I loved those that took a running jump at the person they were hugging, too. Seeing this made even my deeply cynical side smile a little. Makes me want to be a bit less jaded and a lot more open to the people and the world around me.
Maybe it's the fact that I've gone through some personal tragedy lately, or maybe it's just because I need to be reminded that there are still good-hearted people in the world, but seeing this video did me a world of good. I feel better now, all warm and fuzzy.
I hope it brightens your day, too.
(((HUGS)))
]]>Woke up to the sound of millions of tiny little ice pellets hitting the window.
They began to collect on the roof:
And then more of the little buggers started to congregate:
Within ten minutes, the roads looked like this:
You can imagine how fun it was to drive in this stuff.
Whee.
I can handle the cold temperatures fine, but I am a big weenie when it comes to the slick stuff.
]]>We've had days upon days of gray winter gloom here, which has had no small part in influencing my music selections recently. The first time I heard this song, "Home", by The Cinematics, I was struck by it's simplistic beauty and slightly forlorn quality, not to mention the striking similarity between the vocals on this particular track and one of my favorite artists of all time, Jeff Buckley. I've probably listened to this song two dozen times in the past few days, like I can't be quenched of the thirst to hear it. It's achingly gorgeous.
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I have the first sneaking suspicions that something's a little off when I get to the Vox log in page this morning (for the first time in a week - yay mini-vacation!). I brush them off and log in.
HOLY CRAP.
Everything's...different.
I feel like I've gone home, unlocked the door, only to step inside and discover that I'm in somebody else's house! It's disorienting!
Honestly, I'm not quite sure if I like the new layout. I got into a comfortable little groove before, and the changes are just throwing me off.
Guess I'll just have to get used to it!
]]>I was tagged by Farfaraway!
The rules:
1. Grab your nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag 5 different people
The book closest to me was a collection of short stories by Kim Edwards, The Secrets of a Fire King.
"We walked down an unfamiliar path an arrived at a black sand beach. The sea was rough, but the setting sun had broken from the clouds and everything was vibrant in the sudden light. There was a shallow cave in the cliff, stairs opening into a passage lit like the aisle of an airplane."
~ excerpt from the short story "Aristotle's Lantern"
I tag Alex, Guycita, Procrastinator, Rosslyn, and some_girl...have fun!
A coworker gave me a package of dark chocolate-covered cacao nibs yesterday. I confess to being entirely ignorant as to what, exactly, a cacao nib actually is. Never mind, I thought...it clearly is derived from the same thing that makes chocolate, so it must be good.
Cup of steaming hot coffee in hand, I prepare to taste these mysterious little treats.
OH. MY. GOODNESS.
They are (for lack of a better word) utterly delicious!
They are nutty and bittersweet and wonderful.
I Googled, and couldn't find the same kind I have exactly, but this description is close:
YUM!
]]>How far from your last home do you live? Why did you move and are you glad you did?
Submitted by Matthew 25.
As recently as six months ago, I lived in a little rental house which is located about a mile from where I live now. I called it home for six years, and it was the very first place I had ever lived in on my own. It was small, but had everything I needed. Plus, it was one of the few places in town where I could afford the rent. When I met with the landlord and signed the lease on that sunny September day, I remember this feeling of elation - it was complete and total freedom. There would be no annoying siblings, no roomates, nobody to answer to or pick up after. Just me. I could come and go as I pleased without disturbing anyone, I could play my music loud. I could vacuum at 1:00 in the morning if I felt like it. I could eat cookie dough for breakfast without any reproachful looks if I wanted to. You know that life you envisioned when you were a moody preteen and your mom was telling you to get off the phone because you'd been talking for three hours, or to clean your room because the contents of your closet had seemingly exploded onto your floor? That life where you can do whatever you want because no one is the boss of you? Yep, THAT life. Heh. Not that I was ever that type of kid, or anything. ;)
Signing that lease felt like heaven on a payment plan.
I had grand plans for making my new home the cutest little house ever. I wasn't allowed to paint or change anything in the house, but my landlord said he would allow me to plant flowers in the yard. I remember happy hours picking out tulip bulbs and planting potted flowers. Oh, those carefree, naive days...
The first year was actually okay. The home was (is) quite old, had never been remodeled, and was in desperate need of some repairs, but I felt like it would be too obnoxious to call my landlord for every little thing, so I did the small stuff myself. Although the wallpaper borders looked like they came straight from a cheap hotel circa 1970 and the carpet was a retina-searing, Technicolor hot pink (yeah, just try and match furniture to THAT), I still felt unaccountably fond of my home sweet home.
Then the honeymoon period wore off.
I began to discover why my landlord was so insistent that I not hang anything. The walls were nothing more than painted over PAPER in some places. PAPER, people. The only places I could hang proper curtains were in my living room and kitchen. The rest of the walls wouldn't support anything other than the pre-existing, non-functioning shades that were there when I moved in. I discovered on the first blustery nights of autumn that the house was not insulated worth a darn. None of the windows worked, which meant for six years, I had no fresh air at all. That was a bit unbearable at times. Then light fixtures began to crumble right out of the ceiling and hang down menacingly over my head. Outlet covers fell off the walls. The wood paneling in my laundry room bowed and split. Faucets leaked. Stove burners, then oven stopped working. Wiring went bad. Black mold, which had always been present, invaded the bathroom, the attic, and one of the main closets in full force. Mice gnawed their way through the cabinets in the kitchen. The crawl space of the house was horrendously swarmed by termites the last two spring seasons I lived there. Worst of all? My house, apparently, was the spawning ground for every brown recluse spider in the southern United States. Seriously.
I can't begin to count the number of times I'd wake up to find a recluse on. my. pillow. Oh, my god, the horror. I still have nightmares about them. Have you ever seen that scene in "Just Married" where Ashton Kutcher is lying in bed and discovers that there is the hugest, most terrifyingly gross roach crawling on his neck and has a major screaming freakout? Yeah, it's like that...only a lot less funny. I have no idea how I lived among them for six years and was never bitten. I suppose the "recluse" part is true...they aren't aggressive...although I don't imagine they'd have any qualms about biting you if you happened to disturb them by rolling over one that had snuggled comfortably in between your sheets while you slept. They LOVED my shoes, which meant a shoe check was part of my morning routine. I spent a small fortune in those spider trap things. The spiders merely mocked my cluelessness. Didn't I know that they aren't that gullible? The RAID spider killer just pissed 'em off. Nope, they were there to stay. It was them, or me.
In the end, it was me that left. I developed a pretty serious allergy to all the black mold and had to get out of that house, post-haste. Besides, I was tired of having to send irate, semi-threatening letters to my landlord after the third and fourth ignored call. So I finally moved. Now I have roomies, which is alternately okay and maddening. But at least my rent is cheaper now, which will help me get through college more easily, now that I've decided to go back.
I'm glad I moved out of the ninth circle of hell, but I miss having my own personal, quiet space. My dream home is out there, and I'm definitely working towards it. I can't wait.
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