With yet another dateless New Year's yawning on the horizon, I'm inclined to agree with this half-price sweatshirt I saw today:
The best kind of man is a snowman.
A Drivel Runs Through It
Friday, December 30, 2005
With yet another dateless New Year's yawning on the horizon, I'm inclined to agree with this half-price sweatshirt I saw today:
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
I'm back from my journey to the Hi-Line, where I spent Christmas with Gay, along with a stop last night in Great Falls to hang out with Beth. I'll respond to email and comments in the next day or two. In the meantime, I've decided to introduce a new feature here on the blog -- "postcards" from Montana and wherever else I happen to be. In text, photography or both, I'll try to capture a "snapshot" of something beautiful or unusual and share it with you.
Postcard from Great Falls, Montana
Today in Great Falls, and undoubtedly at every mall in America, Bath and Body Works was crammed with excited women sniffing out bargains at its big after-Christmas sale. Six dollar room diffusers, $5 body butters, three-for-$9 antibacterial hand cleansers, $10 candles -- in scents from sweet pea and moonlight path (my personal favorites) to coconut lime verbena, mango mandarin and cotton blossom -- all produced and packaged expressly to appeal to the hard-wired genetic female propensity for little, pretty, colorful, yummy-smelling things. A thousand years ago we dug roots and picked berries; now we go to the mall.
Elbow to elbow with me and all the other ordinary shoppers were half a dozen Hutterite girls and women -- lovely and distinctive in their old-fashioned dresses and polka-dotted headscarves, their rolled and braided hairstyles, their clean-scrubbed faces. In the dialect of their German ancestors, they urged each other to sniff this one, then that one, while their bearded men waited patiently outside in stiff black hats and woolen suits.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
This is the image that I used for my Christmas cards this year. It was taken along Highway 200 just east of the Continental Divide -- an area called the Rocky Mountain Front.
Update: It occurs to me I should mention that this photograph is looking east. The Rocky Mountains are behind me. They're much bigger than the hills you see here.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Solstice. Longest night. I was yawning by 1:30 p.m., two hours earlier than usual. Had to dose myself repeatedly with caffeine and chocolate. Then I read that carb cravings are common for those in northern winters. Carbohydrates and twinkling Christmas lights are our species' way of staving off the blues in this coldest, darkest time of year. I remember a Northern Exposure episode where Chris (dreamy, dreamy Chris) gathered up all the lamps and bulbs he could find for a massive, mid-winter light display in the center of town. It was glorious -- until the collective fuse blew.
Despite its brevity, today was warm! Relatively speaking, anyway. I think it got into the mid-30s. We were all sighing with relief. These past few weeks have been mercilessly cold.
I'm feeling less stressed this season than usual. I think it's partly because my holiday preparations are completely done (thank you, Flylady!), but also because I have not once been subjected to the wretched jingle-jangle of Starvation Army bell ringers. I can't think of anything less likely to make me feel charitable than that noise. It's an HSP's nightmare.
This time of year, I join the masses in wishing people I meet a "Merry Christmas," although privately, it's not Christ's birth I'm celebrating but some sort of Pagan-Atheist amalgamation of Yule, capitalism and diet debauchery. Merry merry.
As of 2 p.m. Friday, I'll be on vacation for a week. Ten days if you count weekends and holidays. Hallelujah!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Monday is my fifth anniverary of quitting smoking.
I was 13 when I lit up my first clove cigarette. They smelled good, seemed exotic, and my friends and I rationalized that since they were cloves, not tobacco, they weren't dangerous. Heck, it was an herb, it was probably good for you. I liked the initial head rush, the relaxing sensation that followed, the feel of the clove cigarette in my fingers, the way I felt sophisticated and mature. I bought my Kuta Kreteks and Djarums at a head shop in the nearby mall for 95 cents a pack. At first, those ten cloves lasted me a week, but before long I was going through a pack a day. Out of necessity, I switched to plain old Marlboro 100s, which were cheaper.
At 15 I was sent to a boarding school in Montana where the headmaster made us roll our own. He reasoned that it would make us more aware of our addiction than smoking "tailor-mades." Eventually the school banned tobacco altogether, and I quit for ten months. But then, living in San Francisco, I started dating a guy I'd known from the school. He smoked, and soon, I caved and joined him.
Over the years, I kept trying to quit again. I'd make it a day, a week, a month, three months. Then I'd be hanging out with a friend who was smoking and think, "Well, I'll just have one ...." Or life would come crashing down on me and I'd need a cigarette. No matter how many tax increases were voted in, no matter how broke I was, I could always scrape together enough change for a pack of cigarettes. I grew to loathe them, even while I continued to smoke. I hated being a slave to the addiction. I hated the nasty, phleghmy cough I developed. I hated the stink I knew was there even if I couldn't smell it.
But I loved loved loved the deep sense of calm that sank into my blood when I took a drag. It was a shortcut to peace, a meditative break from whatever I'd been doing, a social-anxiety soother. It was a ritual that delivered.
I moved back to Montana, went to college, turned 30. In the summer of 1998, I drove to Florida on a summer internship, determined to return a non-smoker. I managed for a while, then started again (too much stress), but came home a closet smoker. I no longer felt like a smoker. I didn't want people to see me as a smoker. So I woke up in the morning, drank my coffee and inhaled three or four cigarettes in a row, then showered and didn't smoke again until I returned home at night to finish the pack. I might've fooled people if it hadn't been for the cough.
I tried Nicorette, Wellbutrin, cold turkey, weaning. I wanted to quit so bad, but withdrawal felt like being strangled. I kept starting, stopping, starting again. I had nightmares about burning buildings, embers glowing in the ruins.
Dec. 19, 2000. Christmas vacation. Pneumonia. I felt like I had a sack of cement on my chest. I felt so awful that for the first time in eons, I didn't even want a cigarette. Nine days went by before I felt well enough to smoke again. But I didn't smoke. I kept going, and it was hard, but it got easier. I was 33 years old. Without intending to, I'd smoked for twenty years. Finally, I'd quit.
I've had one drag since then. Two summers ago, partying with my best friend in Georgetown. She wouldn't let me smoke hers, but when the flirty bartender left his lit cigarette untended in an ashtray, I swiped it. One drag. It was awful. I thought, "What the hell am I doing?" I put the cigarette back in the ashtray, realizing I didn't really want it after all. It was then I knew I had truly kicked the habit.
Friday, December 16, 2005
O! Joy!
I woke this morning to eight -- eight! -- comments on my posts. It's like Christmas around here.
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Of course, six of those comments were payback from Vanx of Verb-Ops, whose blog I was discovering and commenting on in the wee hours. Go check him out. He's literate and funny.
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More joy: I got a voicemail from my insurance agent saying that not only are they going to cover the $400 airbag repair, they're also going to replace my sluggish seatbelt (which I hadn't even asked for!).
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My new favorite flavor sensation: Muenster cheese and Aplets and Cotlets.
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"I hate Montana. I really do. I hope next semester is short. I can't believe people settled here. I just don't understand it. The weather is horrible. There is no reason that anyone should have to be anywhere with -30F as a possibility." -- Sarah at the Bozeman LiveJournal Lemon Curry?
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I woke this morning flat on my belly, with two heavy cats nestled on my back for warmth, and an ache in my lower spine. Guess I turned the heat down a little too much before bed last night.
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Three words I can't stand: pupil, brainchild, plethora.
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What sweet bliss to not have ANY homework to do this weekend. Sweet sweet sweet. I do, however, have plenty of holiday preparations and other projects awaiting me. But no papers to write! Hooray!***
Must. Go. Accomplish. Things.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
First, I've turned on my blog's "email to a friend" feature in case any of my two readers want to share a post with someone. See the little envelope at the bottom of this post? Just click on that.
Second, now that school's out and I have some time on my hands (comparatively speaking, anyway), I'm re-evaluating the site and thinking about ways to improve. I know that my "brand" and "message" are a bit diffuse. What with Patia Stephens -- Creative Communication -- Montana Musings -- A Drivel Runs Through It -- heck, no one's even sure what this thing is called. And I'm kind of all over the place as far as topics go. I've thought about narrowing my focus -- say, to just Montana photos and musings -- or creating a second blog to corral my thoughts.
As I've said before, I don't think of this as a popularity contest. I started blogging mainly to keep in touch with friends, although most of them don't read it or at least don't comment, preferring the familiarity of email and phone calls. But I do get lonesome for comments. Just one or two on a post keeps me from feeling I'm writing into a void. Lately I'm not even getting that. (Although I have recently gotten some great emails via the site from old friends, a former boss and a few potential creative ventures.)
Interestingly, I got more traffic back in my Salon/Radio User Land days, thanks to the built-in community of active bloggers and readers, along with the "Recently Updated" page. Having a Blogger feed to my own site just doesn't generate the same juice.
Anyway, I'm looking for ways to improve the site and blog, and I welcome suggestions. What would you like to see more of, and less of? How can I make this a more dynamic space?
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
With all-wheel drive and four new studded "Winter Slalom" snow tires, my Subie is now unstoppable! (Err, actually, hopefully it's stoppable, it just won't get buried in any more snowdrifts.)
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I love when people think "voluptuous" is actually spelled and/or pronounced "volumptuous."
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Eating a hot glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut has to be one of the most sublime experiences on Earth.
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Bitterroot and Bergamot has posted "Elegy for an elegant mule," a heartwarming, insightful tribute.
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Speaking of mules, I've signed up for a one-credit "Wilderness Packing and Outfitting" course this spring. Does that not sound like total fun?
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I'm feeling a little intimidated by two of the spring classes I registered for. One is a 400-level poetry workshop, the other a 500-level literature seminar on Cultural Studies. Hope I'm not getting in over my head.
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I have just discovered the joy of aluminum gift-wrap. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it, but I want more!
I wanted to write a long, inspiring post about the International Declaration of Human Rights, which celebrated its 57th anniversary on Saturday, but I didn't get to it. Go read it, anyway. It's a momentous document that deserves far more recognition than it gets.
Farewell, Richard Pryor. Thanks for the laughs.
I'm off to perform triage on my inbox. I'll leave you with a few of my latest photographs.
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I wanted to write a long, inspiring post about the International Declaration of Human Rights, which celebrated its 57th anniversary on Saturday, but I didn't get to it. Go read it, anyway. It's a momentous document that deserves far more recognition than it gets.
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Farewell, Richard Pryor. Thanks for the laughs.
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I'm off to perform triage on my inbox. I'll leave you with a few of my latest photographs.
Monday, December 12, 2005
I handed in my final papers at last-class festivities tonight. Joy!
I'm taking tomorrow off to recover by watching Martha Stewart in my jammies and going for a walk, hopefully in the sunshine.
Find your own zone at Lite-Brite. Thanks to Justin for the link.
After tonight, fall semester 2005 will be officially over for me. Whoooooo! I will have a month off (from school, not work). Here's what I plan to do with it:
- Finish and mail Christmas cards
- Wrap and package Christmas gifts
- Go for lots of walks! (I know I've been sedentary when I start actually craving exercise.)
- Give myself the most glittery pedicure imaginable
- Enjoy the holidays with my friends
- Catch up on paperwork
- Find a new filing cabinet to replace my broken one
- Blog. Write. Catch up on e-mail, phone calls and other correspondence.
- Take lots of pictures. Edit the ones I've already taken.
- Get car's seat and airbag fixed. Get new tires.
- Get car detailed and waxed if I can afford it. Clean it myself if I can't.
- Attack my teetering stack of to-read books
- Catch up on my magazine backlog
- Watch as many movies as possible -- if I can manage to get a TV/DVD player that works
- Play with the kitties
- Brush them
- Take naps
- Organize my new bookshelves
- Sort and recycle my enormous pile of magazines
- Have a sledding party
- Start selling on eBay
What are YOUR plans for the holidays?
Sunday, December 11, 2005
From the Bourbon Street Journal blog on Nola.com.
Joan Fox of New Orleans writes:
Dear France,
Greetings from Louisiana! We are shopping for new owners, and we immediately thought of you! Our present rulers haven't been taking very good care of us and we are looking for a better deal. They are spending all our money in a place called Iraq (somewhere in the Middle East). We thought that perhaps you might want to revisit an old land deal you made long ago.
If you've been reading the papers lately, you may have noticed that we have had a few problems with "water". No, we're not offering you a deal on a damaged water park. (Although that's what it looks like from the air) Seriously, we need help, and fast.
Some things you might like here:
1. We named the state after your King Louis
2. We named the city after your city, Orleans
3. We have lots of French names on the streets
4. We still have Napoleonic law (maybe you can explain it to us!)
5. A lot of our citizens speak French (the accent will grow on you)
6. We like French food and wine
What we can offer you:
1. a toehold (rather wet!) on the continent
2. an incredible port
3. Lots of oil and gas
4. Lots of restaurants
5. Jazz
6. Mardi Gras (you won't believe what we do with this!)
7. Some of the most beautiful houses in the world (very, very wet)
What we need from you is simple:
1. Wetland redevelopment
2. New levees
3. Lots of new houses (but we want them to look old like the ones we lost)
4. We need schools and hospitals rebuilt
5. If you insist, we wouldn't mind some more outdoor cafes like you folks are famous for.
Please think this over carefully. Our current owners are so busy in other countries, they might not even notice if you come down here and take a look around. We'll put you up in grand style in a place we call "The French Quarter" (yeah, really!) and you can have lunch at a place we built for your very own Napoleon, which we call (you guessed it!) Napoleons". You'll be right at home.
Oh, just remember, we would like the levees and the wetlands taken care of ASAP, sometime just after lunch if not sooner.
Yours sincerely,
A homeowner in New Orleans
Joan Fox
Why is it always beautiful and sunny outside when I am stuck inside writing papers?
Friday, December 09, 2005
From Dictionary.com:
voluptuary \vuh-LUHP-choo-er-ee\, noun:
A person devoted to luxury and the gratification of sensual appetites; a sensualist. adjective: Voluptuous; luxurious.
Colette used to begin her day's writing by first picking fleas from her cat, and it's not hard to imagine how the methodical stroking and probing into fur might have focused such a voluptuary's mind.
--Diane Ackerman, "O Muse! You Do Make Things Difficult!" New York Times, November 12, 1989
Though depicted as a decadent voluptuary, she remained celibate for more than half of her adult life.
--Michiko Kakutani, "Cleopatra Behind Her Magic Mirror," New York Times, June 5, 1990
Thursday, December 08, 2005
My email inbox is beginning to frighten me. I haven't yet registered for spring classes. I have two final papers to write this weekend. Christmas is drawing perilously near. I have to return my car to the auto-body shop tomorrow to fix two things left over from the accident. My airbag needs a part replaced to the tune of $400+, which is almost certainly also related to the accident, which means more negotiations with the insurance folks. I have studded snow tires on order at Costco, because Montana is finally having a real winter and my highway tires aren't cutting it. I had to dig my car out of two snowdrifts the other night and still couldn't make it up the driveway. Now my wheel wells are cemented with snow. It's minus-something out there and I hate having to wear so much clothing. John Lennon died 25 years ago today and I can't believe I'm that old. My co-worker's father just died suddenly and that really sucks. I am reading Dr. Phil's new book, "Love Smart," and alternating between thinking, "You know, he's probably right about that" and "This is the most cliche-ridden, trite, redundant, ridiculous piece of psychobabble I've ever paid $14.79 for." My six-month-old TV/DVD player has stopped working. My best friend just called me from the beach in Florida.
But on the positive side, I'm done with classes for a month, I have all my Christmas shopping done, I love my new iBook, and Tango just got his ear stuck inside out, which is always good for a laugh.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Because I am fat, people often assume I eat little besides junk and sweets. Or at least, that's the impression I get when they seem surprised to see me enjoying healthy foods. It's true that I'm not good at self-denial, and that I am sometimes too busy to eat right, and that I love food more than is, perhaps, good for me. But I adore vegetables. I will happily eat tofu -- raw, even. I cannot eat sweets on an empty stomach. I don't trust people who eat white bread. I have a fat tooth rather than a sweet tooth. Cheese, butter and salt are my weaknesses. (Although ice cream and cookies are not exactly my strengths, either.) When I have time, which isn't often lately, I love to cook and bake. These days, I rarely cook except on Sundays.
Here's what's for dinner:
Salad
Red leaf lettuce
Cucumber
Celery
Cherry tomatoes
Red onion
Avocado
Craisins
Raw sunflower seeds
Sesame-Pear dressing (from Safeway)
Stir-Fry
Brussels sprouts
Eggplant
Tofu
Soy sauce
Served over brown rice.
I've hung crocheted snowflakes above my big picture window; decorated the tiny tabletop tree in red lights, sparkly balls and lifelike birds; hung stockings for Tango, Luna and myself; and put various ornaments around the house. I keep white Christmas lights up year-round, so that was already done. I will try to post a picture at some point. Right now I must go do my homework. And spend some quality time with my checking account. And make a salad.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
I've fallen behind and I can't get up. Mainly on answering e-mail and blog comments, but also on homework, housework, Christmas and life in general. Heavy snow, car problems, mysterious electronics failures and sluggish Internet speeds are complicating matters.
I'll be back ... eventually.
