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Et in Arcadia Ego

lumpkins
Dear Pink One,

Sunday, April 22nd, 2012 - snippets of what I read at work Monday that told me you were gone forever.

Oregon state police say you died after driving your Chevy SUV into oncoming traffic on Highway 26 and colliding with a pickup truck Sunday afternoon. The force of the impact also killed your husband, who was sleeping without his seatbelt on in the front passenger seat. The driver of the pickup, a 76-year-old farmer, also died. You all died on impact. Investigators never figured out what caused you to lose control of the SUV. Police say you were driving eastbound and going down a hill on Highway 26, about 30 miles northwest of Vale, and entering a right curve around 3:40 p.m. when the SUV went into the westbound lanes and hit the pickup, which was pulling an empty livestock trailer. Your husband was thrown from the SUV by the force of the impact. The rest of the SUV was crushed so badly they had to cut it open to take you out.

I talked to your roommates yesterday. I know you were tired when you left the campground. I know you just got a new iPhone and were probably faffing around with some feature. You were always a crappy driver. Did you ever wonder why I never let you drive? Your roommate said she didn't even see skid marks at the crash site - just full-tilt into the next lane. I will never get to ask you what really happened.

I finally got a chance to go through the dregs of your belongings. I have a few things from your house that I can look at and hold. I'm working very very hard to fathom your permanent absence from my life. Ever since the funeral I have been walking around in a poisonous fog. I love you and I promise I'll try so hard to smile when I think of you, instead of letting this avalanche of grief hold me down.

xoxo,
Fuzzy Lumpkins

CJ's New Skirt-9
Weihnachtsgans
Relieve me of this burden of thoughts, feelings and the human experience. Depression is sitting in a cafe over cold tea growing impatient with me and I just refuse to either call it and cancel our date or show up and dredge through some history. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Should have been a good day. The center manager complimented me on my dedication and profit, I hung out with my sup and he wasnt so bad. Still, today has been one social fest after another with work and Mayes' bday and even the solace of stupid tv and a good lunch then dinner with The Ginger has not realy helped much. It would if I could trust a bit more, but it seems a waste of a precious natural resource.

SO tired. physically and mentally tapped out. I have no fight left. Old Me fits me about as well as my "skinny jeans" do. Newish Me doesn't stand up for herself much and neither has ever known for longer than 5 minutes what she wants. Keep thinking I'm just nervous about the playa and a week in the desert essentially reliant on myself. Possibly the worst part is a scary car ride with no one to talk to but me, and we are not so much speaking at this point. I'm not sure that's all of it. Anymore, I am trying so hard to be okay all around that I have absolutely no idea how I really feel abotu anything. Getting out of town should help, but I don't want to go as a bag of peices. I want to go as a whole person, exploring and experiencing a temporary part of the world and a moment in time. At the very least, I'd like to be a round, concrete mosaic, capable of rolling while looking pretty and complex.

The hell isn't there a super hero for this? Super Someone Else.

Saw Josh tonight. Odd.
us
Burning Man stuff is now in a smart looking little pile in my garage, the truck's empty of schtuff and zings and I am primed for cookie baking tomorrow. All in all, quite pleased with my own housewifeliness. Found the directions, so I may still go camping, if only because I feel like being a quiet observer of the forest.

I keep thinking of this scene from Carnivale. One of the circus caravans that is rattling around the midwest in the Dust Bowl contains a family unit that runs a peep show. The mother and two daughters dance and the father takes the money. The mother and younger daughter are, because tv demands it, gorgeous, but there's an older sister who is pretty but also pretty big. She spends a vast majority of her time being jealous of the pretty sister. Tensions are high.

One day the caravan find a bartender living in a ghost town that used to be bustling with miners. The bartender ends up killing the larger daughter so that she is there forever with him and all the other men because they had no women. He promises to keep her "as safe and comfortable as I can" and the caravan drives off with her waving in a sad and resigned way from the window while bar patrons are pulling on her skirt. I don't know why sometimes I get those sad moments lodged in my cranium, but it happens and now I can't shake this satisfaction-with-a-side-of-melancholy. Too bad life doesn't require me to write English papers anymore. I'd love to spend some serious meditation time on that in Dr. Machon's film class. You know, back when I was completely sure of myself.

Rawr says the dinosaur

us
Rawr means I love you in Dinosaur.

And I love movie popcorn right up until I start eating it and get horribly ill. It looks perfect, delicious, tantalizing and it costs entirely too much. Can't help but always add way too much butter. I also love the look that at least two people will give you while you stand there under the butter dispenser tempting fate with something that will surely make you feel sick eventually. There's something magnificent about looking at new popcorn, and the frivolous feeling you get from spending the exact price of your movie ticket on something you know from the beginning you're only going to enjoy it, albeit intensely, for a minute or two.

My heart is beating fast again and my head is totally empty.
us
Forksterectomy here i come. Ah the joys of shunning motherood and having unused organs. ORGANS NEED PURPOSES AND GOALS TOO! Plus, if they take them out, that's whaat? 5 lbs easy? :)

Tonight I went to see No One Knows About Persian Cats at The Flicks with Kel, Nick, Donna and the Ginger. Being a foreign film, it was poorly subtitled, entirely direct in its meaning and chiefly interesting due to its realistic, guerrilla style camerawork. Fingers on lenses focused on bright things in abject poverty and oppression. It was filmed using real people in real underground musical hideouts, only with a script to try valiantly to make it cohesive. I enjoyed it. Loved most of the music so much I may purchase the soundtrack. Worth checking out. The Ginger has refused to attend anything with subtitles (gee, did I forget to mention those?) or anything at the Flicks because the seats weren't comfortable. This i sfine. I have Nick. :)

Aaaaand I'm a little overwhelmed. Not switching gears well after vacation. I never used to be like this and I hate it. No idea how much is hormones and how much is going back East with all the sentimental and emotional stuff. Or how much one affects the other. The worst part is I know I just need to sit somewhere alone for a bit, even if it's just part of the day, and turn my brain off. The only problem there is that being bymyself in silence can go one of two ways. It's either a red eye to epiphany/relaxationville or one of those spirals that does not go up for awhile.

When you come bck we'll bake. I want to make a cake with you, as "with you" is kinda almost the same as by myself. And play board games and go on walks. And possibly sing minstrel tunes on street corners. Well...maybe not.

Meet Erlenmeyer

hedge anoint


Meet Erlenmeyer! She's 1 year old, we just picked her up this morning from the hedgehog breeder. This picture is from the breeder's website - back when her name wasn't Erlenmeyer and back when she was a slender thing. Now she's very, very, very fat. We have her on a sort of trial basis - if she doesn't start losing weight the breeder wants her back. She started gaining weight when the breeder thought she was pregnant, but she never had babies. That happened twice, so she's definitely in need of Weight Watchers for Hedgehogs. If she doesn't slim down (she has a new special low-fat diet) there may be more of a problem than the fact that she's not big on wheeling. We'll have until the first week of June to see if our new friend gets into healthier shape.