Phouka

"You're getting a bruise on the side of your face. If he has anything to do with that"-- Carla jerked her head towards the phouka-- "You damn betcha I won't like it."
"Not exactly. I mean, it wasn't his fault. Carla..." There was no way to ease gently into the subject "Carla, he's a phouka."
Carla stared at her, then looked at the phouka. "A--phouka?"
"You know what it is?" Eddi asked.
Carla looked at her dubiously. "The last time I heard that word, Jimmy Stewart was using it to describe a six-foot white rabbit." And she looked back at the phouka.

- War For the Oaks, Emma Bull

Strange Things That Are In My Purse:

A ziplock bag of vitamins
Half a quesadilla
One pair of yellow dish gloves

I've been dogsitting since Friday and get a break the day after tomorrow, then off to another job. I will be back once I am done dealing with neurotic and bossy animals (some sick, some with razor sharp claws and a temper), and when the sleep deprivation has subsided (You want to wake me up every three hours??? Do you want your breakfast?), and I have more things to do than watch America's Next Top Model marathons all day long.
Until then..

Ten Thousand Missing Apostrophes

"The light changed. The upright red hand blinked out and the forward-leaning white man came on. Reacher had always regretted the switch from the words WALK and DON'T WALK. Given the choice, he preferred words to pictograms. And as a kid he had been scandalized by the bad punctuation. Ten thousand missing apostrophes in every city in America. It had been a secret thrill, to know better."
- The Hard Way, Lee Child

Busy Hands

My mother works in an elementary school and whenever I go to visit her all of the teachers just love my jewelry that I've made for myself, and many of them have made comments about wanting to buy some. So I've spent quite a bit of time this week making up about 10 pairs of earrings to send to school with my mom and sell. I don't know if anyone will be interested, but I'm pretty happy with the results. These are the most recent ones made of vellum and newspaper, but I have more made with glass, ivory, hematite, and crystal beads.

Rough

Clean Sheets

Having clean sheets is one of the best things in life. Today I took everything off my bed and washed the sheets, mattress pad, comforter, and my pillows, as well as dusted and vacuumed in attempts to battle the pollen that has been accumulating in my room. Laying down to take a nap today I reveled in the feeling of clean cotton against my skin. It's one of the best and most comforting feelings in the world. The only thing that was missing was the nice breeze coming in through the window that I now have to keep shut or I notice a thick film of yellow pollen grains on every surface.

Froggy

This little guy startled me when I went to uncover the bikes to go for a ride. He immediately tucked his right arm under him and stared at me somewhat nervously. He didn't care much for having his picture taken either.

A Spot of Bother

"The thought occurred to him that he could become an alcoholic. At this precise moment it seemed a not unreasonable solution to his problems."
- A Spot of Bother, Mark Haddon, p. 120

I've found that the more I read the pickier I am about what books I like or even finish. for me a good book has two essential elements: a good dose of humor and a character that I really like or can relate to in some way. "A Spot of Bother" fits my specifications to a T. The book centers around an older couple (fifties or sixties maybe) whose daughter Katie is getting married to the wrong man--again. The Jean just wants to plan her daughter's wedding perfectly regardless, Katie and her fiance Ray are going through a rough patch and contemplate cancelling the wedding, Katie's brother Jamie refuses to attend because he feels that his on again off again boyfriend is not welcome as his date, and George, Katie's father, is slowly losing his mind. The story switches viewpoints and takes a turn with each character--a tactic that I usually hate, but really loved in this book. Every person in this story is absorbed in their own little personal catastrophe while George is steadily sinking into hypochondria. He notices a spot on his hip and is sure that cancer is taking over his body, one cell at a time. The doctor tells him that he has eczema. He knows otherwise and starts dosing himself with vicodin and red wine to take the edge off his panic.

I loved this book because it examines a group of people who all want something, and whose goals interact and conflict with those around them: Katie wants to know if she's marrying Ray for security or love, Ray wants Katie to love him, Jamie wants his parents to accept him and to know how he truly feels about his boyfriend, George wants to escape, and Jean just wishes that George would put off his breakdown until after the wedding. It is in equal parts hysterical, disturbing, and sad, the perfect book in so many ways.

Rain

"April Rain Song"
- Langston Hughes

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

In the Mountains

This past weekend my family and I went to the mountains for my cousin's graduation. It was a very eventful three days, braving power outages, two hailr storms, borrowed hotel rooms, strange food, and multiple hour-long drives to and fro. On the way home we drove part of the way on the Blue Ridge Parkway so that we could do a little hiking before heading out.

Love-Song

"The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
- T.S. Eliot

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

...

In Bloom

I took these in April, when things were still in bloom.