Movin' on up...

So...I am too lazy to figure out what to do with this blog, and not being able to post photos makes me less likely to post at all. So I've moved over to Wordpress, to see what I can see. C'mon over and visit, why don't you? It's lovely over there. http://jenniferslanguishing.wordpress.com/

The Church of Facebook

I grew up in a good Lutheran church. Well, really in a little house four blocks away, but you know what I mean. It was the church where my parents were baptized and married. We went almost every week, and I could count my non-Lutheran classmates on one hand throughout elementary school (hello, Shannon Welch, you crazy Catholic girl). For the most part it was a good place, for community building and taking care of one another. Often prayers during church were the first place we would learn that someone was sick, and it was through church that help, in the form of hotdishes or snow removal or visits to the hospital or whathaveyou, was most often organized.

But I have, as an adult, left the church. There are many reasons, and that's not really what this post is about;  my mom is still active, and it provides her with lots of necessary community and spiritual goodness, most of the time. I no longer believe in an all-knowing or all-loving god, or any higher spiritual being at all, so it seems disingenuous to spend much time in church.

So for me, in all honesty, the community of Facebook has replaced church.

I'll let that sink in for a moment. Some of you, no doubt, are thinking me a blasphemer. I'm okay with that.

For me, Facebook provides a central place where I can interact with many of my favorite people. I have, according to my Facebook profile page, 183 friends. I find that number startling, really. (My mom's church only has 50 active members, now). Many are people who never post anything, and may well never even log in, for all I know. And I've blocked some people, and unfriended some people, because I just didn't need their particular vibe in my life at one particular time or another. Kind of like sitting in a different pew at church, if you will, or leaving the narthex early to avoid running into someone you're tired of, perhaps.

My friend Tenessa, who probably has 8 million Facebook friends, is very good at moderating conflict and getting disparate sides to come together civilly (she really should be the president. Of the United States, not Facebook. Though if Facebook needs a president, she'd do that well too). I am not so good at that. I tend to call bullshit when I see it, and then sometimes scream and gnash my teeth, and sometimes leap before I look, and so I'm certain that I have, at one time or another, had more than 183 friends, but I have alienated them, and they blocked or deleted me. That's okay too. I didn't want to sit in their pew anyway.

I try not to overuse Facebook. There are times when I should be playing cards with V instead of perusing articles posted by my Aunt Shirley, or I should be vacuuming the carpet instead of playing MonsterWorld or GnomeTown. It's not always easy. But when I log in after I drop V off for the first day of school, and see my friends who are parents posting their kids' first day of school photos, it warms my heart. When I sit down after V's bedtime and see photos of my cousins' dogs, who live in Seattle, I feel less lonesome. When I need advice on who to call in this town for after-hours plumbing, I get five to ten responses, often in conversation with one another, within thirty minutes.

Just in the last 24 hours, these are the conversations in which I participated:

• Red Delicious Apples Desperately Need Renaming, with which I concurred.
• Ultra-sound and sex determination, in which I shared our experience with fetal V.
• Gone With the Wind vs. Game of Thrones, in terms of reading over holiday break, and how much war each book contains.
• A flow chart about the Prince song "When Doves Cry."

Other important social duties I performed or information I gleaned today:

• I wished my friend Chad Smart, with whom I grew up, a very happy birthday.
• I discovered that my friend Debbie, who grew up in England, just learned who Mr. Rogers is this month
• I found out $haun shares a birthday with Lou Ferrigno. 
• I tried to help Tenessa deal with some nasty vertigo (I suggested she pretend she's on an ocean cruise, because it's sort of like seasickness)

I also enjoyed my friend Terry's weekly tribute Garbage Day; updates from sites to which I subscribe, like NPR and mental_floss and Planned Parenthood and the Plains Art Museum; and an article from the New Yorker reposted by Terry of Garbage Day fame. I was invited to two different events this weekendThere were many other things, too, in my feed today, including some I would like to spend more time on but I decided to write this post instead. 

And sometimes Facebook has direct, tangible benefits. When Shaun was sick, in the past, I could put a notice out on Facebook that I needed help with childcare, and often more than three options would quickly be offered. When Sarah and Robby were fighting the flood in their backyard in '09, we used Facebook to coordinate meals and support. When my washer died on Christmas Eve two years ago, I posted it on Facebook as a "hey, this is what sucks in my life today," more than anything. Charlotte in West Fargo offered up their extra set if we'd come pick them up (and I love them still, Charlotte!). Just this week, I lamented my lack of a Bedazzler (tm) and my Aunt Shirley told me she had something similar just waiting to come to live with me. It seems like magic, doesn't it??

It's not a perfect church, the church of Facebook. But I've found what feels to me a good balance, with people who are loving and funny and bright and good, most of the time. Many of them are people I haven't seen in years and years (more than ten, in some cases), or people who live so far away (like Seattle, or London) that I just can't physically see them at all. And sometimes, it makes reunions weird: we had less to talk about at our 20 year high school reunion, because we all friended each other on Facebook before hand, so there was a lot of "So, anything going on you haven't posted on Facebook? No? Huh." I don't agree with all my friends on all things, and if I were a better person I'd weather even more conflict and grow and learn from it. But right now, Facebook provides me with a community that is supportive and smart and and often hilarious. I like it a lot.

And I don't even have to sit in one of those uncomfortable pews. 

Languishing's Annual Holiday Gift Post

I know I can't include photos right now, but I can't bear to let you all face the holidays without Languishing's wisdom. I stand by most of my suggestions from years past, and in fact they offer many good ideas if you're stumped. Seriously. Who doesn't love pudding? (Oh, lactose intolerant people, I'm sorry). But perhaps you want STILL MORE Languid goodness. If so, here you go. Some bigger ticket items for the bigger ticket folk on your list.

1. A Hoover Windtunnel T-Series. I am not a brand-specific girl when it comes to most things. I take what I can get for free, and I use it until it falls apart. But last year for Christmas, Myra bought both Jess' house and my house new Hoover Windtunnels, because Consumer Reports rated it as high as a Dyson. That's right. A Dyson. And this model costs less than $100.

Our house only has one room with carpet, but it's the room in which we spend most of waking hours. Our old Dirt Devil did what I asked of it, on the rare occasions I asked it to, or so I thought. But once I opened the Windtunnel, I knew I'd never go back. It glides like an angel, is remarkably quiet, and picks up dirt that's been there, I assume, since before we moved in. I'm embarrassed to tell you how many times I had to empty the canister the first time I used it. But with such joy! What's not to love about a quiet, easy to use appliance that makes your house cleaner than you ever thought possible? I've totally drunk the good vacuum kool-aid, and it inspires me to clean other things. Really. I just love it so.

2. A Costco membership. Now, this doesn't make sense if there's no Costco in, say, a 75 mile radius of your home. But if there is, and if your recipient doesn't live alone or as a simply as a monk, consider a gift membership to this particular wholesale club. One just opened in West Fargo, and I love it very much. I also love the Costco business model, which pays employees a fairer wage than Sam's Club, offers much better health benefits, and their CEO makes what strikes me as a reasonable (but not obscene) amount of money. Costco offers great savings on electronics, fair savings on gas, milk, and bread, and things like an entire case of dried seaweed. You know, in case you're into that. Also, you can order your own casket, if'n you want. (Let me be clear: I am not advocating purchasing a casket for a holiday gift. That's even beyond Languishing's Code of Appropriateness).

3. An X-Box. My sister as a Wii, and I suppose she'd disagree with this, but I tell you, our X-Box is one of the most powerful electronics in our home. The one I've linked to is the Star Wars model (which we don't have, but V and I covet. A lot), but you could go simpler. You can run Netflix through it, play video games, listen to Pandora or Rhapsody, and we have a Kinect, which opens up the possibility of actually getting off our duffs and moving around.

4. V says I need to include a toy on this list. "All toys are good," she says. But she especially likes this Baby Alive, the brunette, "because she's brown and has brown hair." She's also a fan of the Lalaloopsy cult, er dolls. Just lots of love for toys in general here, I guess, is what we're getting at.

Well my loves, that's what I have for you. What's your favorite gift you've ever received? Or given?  How do you feel about your vacuum cleaner? Or about Baby Alive?

Apologies. And have you seen my camera anywhere?

I'm up to my eyeballs in student papers right now, and I can't find my camera, so posting is extra difficult for me. But I promise I'm thinking about a new post or two even as I mark comma splices and verb tense shifts over and over and over and over.

In unrelated news, we're getting to the end of emptying Myra's house, and so we've reached the few toys from my childhood that she had tucked away. V is playing with the beloved Sesame Street Clubhouse that occupied Jess and I for hours upon hours. And she's loving our View-Master, too, which warms my old-school heart.

So that's what we're up to. How's your Sunday?

Hardly working...

I'm working on a major post, people. I really am. I even set this evening as my personal deadline. But I'm struggling with it, because, well, I'm out of practice, and when you're the boss of yourself and you miss a deadline, it's not like you can get fired from being yourself. I try to do things like insist I can't have ice cream until the post is done, but then I just sit and stare at the computer and think "ice cream. ice cream. ice cream." and then I go get a bowl, and halfway through I remember I wasn't supposed to have any until the post I haven't started yet was completed. And I can't just let it melt, because that would be wasteful. 

And by "major post" I don't mean to make you feel like I have any big news, because I don't. It's a book review of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. There. Now I've told you, so you won't get all hot and bothered wondering what I'll write.

Or perhaps now you'll get more hot and bothered. I can't be responsible for what makes y'all hot and bothered. 

I just said "hot and bothered" three times in a row. How fun.

For productive procrastination, I vacuumed the TV room, did five loads of laundry, and bathed the girl. And it's not even suppertime yet. 

Meanwhile, enjoy this self-portraits, as I am trying to create a photo of myself for my profile picture here that isn't too lame. Since no one takes pictures of me but me, These are as good as they get. So far. Please offer your suggestions. Should I wear my hair down? Lose the orange shirt? (I mean change shirts, not go topless. This is a family blog). Or are you happy to look at one of these for the next six months?

 Teachery. With my Johnson nose extra-prominent (I love my family features, I do. It's just that this photo over-emphasizes it for me. And I also look like I'm about to burst into tears).

Or this one, wherein I played with the color balance to give the illusion of liver failure and intensely blotchy skin. Here I think I'm more angry than tearful, though. 

As always, I welcome your comments, positive or not, and your ads for Viagra. Now leave me be. I have a book review to write.

The Mean Reds

I know it's been a long, long time, gentle readers. I'm sorry. I think everyday about blogging, but each idea seems to have already been done, or seems to require more energy than I have to offer. Today I decided I've had a bad case of the Mean Reds, and now that I've diagnosed myself, I can hopefully figure out where to go to calm myself down.

V likes to hang on bars in a dress her grandmother brought her from Mexico. She's quite the little gymnast lately, and has conquered monkey bars from here to Duluth.

V also likes to be pulled behind a kayak, preferably one paddled by her other grandmother. Lake Belle Taine has been a source of much joy for us this summer, even more than usual.

There's no real reason for this latest funk (aside from it being how I'm wired and all): we are all relatively healthy and Shaun starts a new (non-gas station, hopefully not only overnights; not that there's anything wrong with either of those things...) job on Monday. My summer class is the kind teachers dream of: 13 very diverse students, each one committed to learning and engaged in the work we're doing together. V is loving every second of summer and even Seven seems to be having a good time. It just is.

I'll work on untangling myself, and keep taking V swimming (above, at Great Aunt Linda and Great Uncle Ken's hotel in Fargo this week), and keep thinking about blogging. May your own mean reds stay far away, or come take mine on a vacation of some sort.

Zzzz

If we hadn't named the girlchild V, (and if I didn't already have a cousin named Zya), we may well have chosen the letter Z. Look at it: it just looks cool. All N turned sideways, alphabet ending, nothin' more to say Z. In honor of V's almost name, let's make the final entry in April's A to Z blogging challenge a special name edition.

Zillah is the final entry in Edward Gorey's "Ghashlycrumb Tinies" (spoiler alert!): she died because she drank too much gin.
Zuzu: one of the names I liked for V, this is, I'm sure you remember, from It's a Wonderful Life: Zuzu is George Bailey's daughter. She's the one who gives him the flower petals that he puts in his pocket.
Zsa Zsa: I'm not crazy about the Gabor sisters, but I love the name Zsa Zsa. It's sexy and playful and it's just plain awesome.
Zachhaeus: He was a wee little man. A wee little man was he. Any name that packs both a Z and 3 of the 5 vowels is a good name indeed.

Thank you all for reading and commenting this month! It's been fun, and I'm taking suggestions for further daily challenges/themes. Send your ideas toward me, won't you?

Pinterest: my rant thereon

Many of my friends have asked me when I'm going to join Pinterest, and have expressed a desire to follow me (I assume so they can mock my fashion sensibilities). I am honored at the interest, but my lack of a presence on the site is more than just my usual laziness. I have some concerns.

First, Pinterest's terms of service give me great pause. While it is very clearly not all that different from other social media sites, as the Copyright Librarian points out in that link, it frankly scares me. (So do all the other social media sites, but I can't very well just sit at home and only be connected to the non-virtual world, now can I?)

I'm not a professional artist, but I get very upset by plagiarism of all kinds. Presenting anyone else's ideas, words, or creation as your own is bad. The end. But technically, if I pin my work to Pinterest and they decide to mass market it someplace, it's NOT stealing, because I've agreed to their terms of service which gives them the right to do just that.

There have been some demands for Pinterest to change their policies, and to be fair, they have not yet acted in the way I described above, to my knowledge. But they could, in theory, and I don't like it one bit.

Now, the Copyright Librarian (how cool is it that someone likes copyright law so much that she has a blog on the subject?) suggests that it's not as simple as the protesters make it out to be: fair use law allows all kinds of pinning/copying/sharing of information, in all sorts of situations. Facebook technically owns all the photos I've uploaded there, even if I delete them. I share my work, both creative and insipid, on this blog, from whence people could, if they felt like it, steal my pictures, words, or ideas, even though I've written that mean copyright notice over in my sidebar.

At the same time, I have loads and loads and loads of bookmarked pages of inspiration: party favors, kids' clothes, stuffed creatures, paintings, handmade books, quilts, tattoos, recipes, freezer paper stencils, teacher gifts, jewelry, dollmaking directions, and on and on and on. But when I do use one as inspiration, I give credit here on the blog (or tell my real-life friends about it). So often, on Pinterest and sites like it, the original poster gets lost in the shuffle, and giving real credit becomes essentially impossible. This scares me: I want creative people to be rewarded for their work, and I want thieves to have a hard time lying about what they've made, so that the world can be transparent & good and whole. Creativity matters, and the original creators deserve better than this. Even if Pinterest's terms of service are never utilized as they are written, the idea of creative people potentially handing over complete ownership of their work frightens me, and I don't want to be a part of that world.

So...as far as rants go, this one's pretty tepid. I'm hesitant to get on the Pinterest bandwagon, because I don't like their terms of service. But I don't like Facebook's, either, and I'm all over that place. And I'm already essentially practicing pinning on a private level (take that, "P" day in the Blogging Challenge!) already, and it would be nice to share some of those lovely things with you, and see what you've discovered.

In the end, I guess I just want us all to play nice. Make sure the original creator is linked to your pins, as far as you can reckon. And if you post your own creative work, do what you can to protect your ideas, from watermarks to hiring your own copyright lawyer.

The internet is a big place, and some people are assholes. I just wish cool online social media sites didn't have to hire assholes to write their terms.

Languishing (ironically a day late...)

Oh, A to Z blogging challenge.  We were getting along so well. And then I had this busy Friday the 13th, and I was just too tired to do L. So I beg the blogosphere's forgiveness, and press on.
Unsurprisingly, I was going to write about luck for Friday the 13th. But then, as I clicked on the "new post" button, here on the 14th, I remembered that the name of my blog is Languishing, and decided to go that route instead.  And then I thought about how the blog is named after the 'zine, and decided to just print a bit from the Languishing book I've been working on for four years. I hope you like it.

The Subtitles & Bylines

Almost every paper issue of Languishing has a subtitle, that is, a brief statement after the title on the cover, and often a second subtitle on the first inside page. Often the second one is a sort of mini-definition. Well, sometimes. Anyway, it’s just how we’ve always done it. Jen and Nena wrote all of these: sometimes collaboratively, sometimes not. We like to think they reflect Languishing’s love of words, but then again, we’re both nerdy English types.  Taken out of what little context they were in originally, they make sort of a wacky found poem. When read aloud, each should be prefaced with "Languishing: " Of course.

Anatomically Correct and Proud of It.

 

 

Coming to the entire universe from Morris, Minnesota, with a wink and a smile.

Languishing was born in1935 in a 2 room shack in Tupelo, Mississippi, the son of a seamstress and a truck driver.

Oh, wait, that was Elvis.

Handmade in Morris with Sparkling Flavor Crystals

Welcome to Spring!  Anyone seen my gopher traps?

This is diet?

Our own little Tropical Paradise.

Winter is for Sissies. Just Say No.

A zine for the common folks, with appetizers, drinks, & dessert all in one

We’re Snuggled Up Together Like Two Birds of a Feather Would Be.

God gave Rock & Roll to you. I think.

To Ease Your Aching Head

Where the Girls Are Cold & the Beer Is Pretty

As if we don't have anything better to do.

A Pocketful of Sunshine

He's a human; you're a mermaid.

If all else fails, use a tourniquet.

Hotter'n Hades but Not as Eternal.

From the Beauty of the Minnesota Prairie to the four corners of the world

A little something for everyone. Well, maybe not you, but most everyone else.
 
Born and Raised in Minnesota and Still Recovering

Tasty & Fulfilling

Homemade in Hendrum Minnesota Just for You!

Try it. You'll Like It.

Don't be offended. We're not criticizing you directly.

sit on a potato pan otis

It's Hunting Season. Do You Know Where Your Giraffe Is?

Don't pick at it and it'll clear up eventually.

from the great white north to your grubby hands in 10 weeks or less or your money back

Where Have You Been, My Darling Young One?

It's 1997. What Are You Gonna Do About It?

Whatever did you do before Languishing?

A glorious holiday to you and yours from us and ours.

"If not hand in hand to heaven, then hand in hand to hell."

In this issue: everyone gets a pseudonym!

The end of innocence?

Jalopy, Jennifer, Janitrix

Oh, J, you silly letter. So many names, so few other words....

Jalopy: One of several words I don't know how to pronounce very well. I've long been better at book learnin' than speaking, and though I read a lot of Archie comics, and Jughead and the gang were always driving around in a jalopy, I never learned how to pronounce it. Artisan/artesian are two others, as is epitome. Seriously, epitome? How'm I supposed to to know that's four syllables?

Jennifer: I never minded being named Jennifer, really, though it was the #1 girls name in America for ever in the 1970s. In college (and I may have already told you this story, and if so, I'm sorry), there was a popular drinking game on campus called Jennifer. In Morris, we only had one phone per dorm floor (oh! the humanity! my students are certain they would've died in such a circumstance), so the game was to call any floor and ask for Jennifer. If she answered, you got to drink. If they said "Which one?" you got to drink twice. Spooner top had 4 Jennifers, so we were a very popular floor, phone-wise.

Janitrix: the female version of janitor. Did you even know there was a female version?  It turns out there are lots of fun words like that: aviatrix, proprietrix, legislatrix. Any noun that ends in -tor, really, can be made feminine by -trix.  If I ever have to apply for a new job (heaven forbid), I think I may just have to write Instructrix on my résumé. Or Educatrix. I never knew teaching could sound so sexy!

B-B-B!

B, for our A-to-Z challenge purposes, will be for bags here at Languishing. I have been a life-long lover of bags: since my first Jordache purse bought at the West Acres Claire's with Christine Forseth (it was teal!), I've been searching for the perfect purse, tote, BAG or bags to carry my stuff. I blog about it so much, it should have its own damn category.

Since falling in love with the quilted totes I told you about recently, I've been thinking about how bags come together, how I could use what I already have, and what all I really want/need in a bag. Should it be for work? I'm still using this lovely one, and it's close to perfect. But then I saw this bag, inspired by a movie, apparently, and I needed one that was round. Needed, understand?  And ..well...let's just get to the photos, shall we?

 I adored the star applique on the inspiration bag, but that was not my design, and I've never even seen whatever pop culture reference it makes, so I didn't want to suggest otherwise. I like sparrows for about two million reasons, and found the template through a basic Google search. I enlarged it 200%, then cut two out of an orangish, sparkly-ish vinyl I bought at S.R. Harris on an unattended visit this December (don't let me go to S.R. Harris without supervision, please).

The main bag is made from some heavy burgundy pleather my sister gave me, and I still have 6 yards of it left, so you should probably get used to seeing it, gentle readers.

 For scale, the bag with V. To be fair, she's a large 6 year old, so it might not be as big of a bag as you think. The diameter of the circle was originally 16", and I used over 1/4 inch seam allowance. The strap is a bit too wide and too short, but then again, so am I. It fits over my shoulder with a little finagling.

Here she's showing how fun it is to be jaunty and dancy with my new bag! What's not to like?

It holds up to 30 papers comfortably, and it's lined with a fantastic array of pockets and some pretty fine fabric (but I'm thinking I'll save photos of that for the letter "L." Or the letter "I," for innards.We'll see). It also has 2 large zippers, one on the top, and one across the back. It's kind of making me giddy with a feeling of accomplishment, really. It's certainly the most complicated thing I've ever made without a pattern.

Of course, it's totally an autumn-y bag, not a springy one, and I'm not ready to give up my current work bag just yet. But I feel triumphant, and it will make a good travel bag, when I need something that will hold a journal and a book as well as my camera and wallet.

Blogging from A to Z: A

My friend Nancy suggested I check out a blog challenge for April, the A to Z April Challenge. I'm already a day behind, but that seems about right.  Brace yourself for both A and B posts today! I have no plan, I don't have anything pre-written, so here's hoping your expectations are as low as my preparation. If not, blame Nancy.
A. Big A little a, what begins with A? Aunt Annie's Alligator, A, A, A.

Alabama. I had a client once who was obsessed with Alabama (not the state). (that sentence makes it sound like I had a much more exotic job than simply working with the developmentally challenged). He loved the band, and whenever he heard the first few notes of "Roll On," he would clap and yell "AlaBAMa!" It was very entertaining, most of the time. I tried to get him hooked on the Oak Ridge Boys, but it's just not as fun to yell Oak Ridge Boys!

Aaay: I had a crush on Fonzie when I was little. Fonzie and Hawkeye Pierce. I had a dream once that I was hanging out with Fonzie, and it was all cool until I started to cry on his leather jacket, and then he wouldn't talk to me anymore. It was a pretty traumatic dream for a 6 year old. No wonder I have abandonment issues. Thanks a lot, Fonzie.

Aloysius: I don't talk to my neighbors very often, beyond the ones on each side of us. But several years ago a new family moved in behind us, and we met once over the back fence, while we were both doing spring raking. Her name, I think, was Vi. I still can't remember his name, but I think he said "I'm Aloysius, but you can call me Sylvester." I may have been drunk, now that I think of it, though why would I rake when I'm drunk? I don't understand any of this story.

My blog, my choices.

Yeah, that's right. I changed the background of my blog to look like the background of V's school picture. If you don't like it, get your own blog, and don't do that. But also, I'll probably change it soon enough. Back off, fussybritches.

Languishing's Claims to Fame (List #19)

I try not to be obsessed with numbers of readers for the blog: in the end, the point is to reach the people who wanna know what we’re up to, and anyone else is welcome to read along. But blogger keeps track for me, and so once in a while I check out the numbers. Here’s what I’ve learned from them:

1.      Readership is highest overall when there’s something drastic going on. This has been especially true in the last year, and posts about Shaun’s physical or mental health are usually very well read. I imagine the reasons for this are two fold: first, people love excitement, and we’ve certainly had plenty of that, and secondly, my husband is more loved than he realizes. Perhaps I should only blog about him.

2.      If I did that, though, I wouldn’t have these other posts that get lots of hits all the time. The most popular post I’ve ever written, by far, with 3 times more hits than any other post, is “Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow.” It’s just a silly little post about how much I like the alphabet, but apparently people hear that phrase, google it, and wind up here. Not enough experts on the topic of pangrams, clearly.

3.      The next runner up is the first in my series of list posts, about inanimate objects. Apparently, people fairly often search the internets for “inanimate objects list.” My list isn't fully inanimate, either, so I'm totally misinforming the universe.  I hope it’s not a common high school assignment, but I’m not really sure why else so many people are looking that up. It’s not a song lyric I don’t know about, is it?

4.      And in third place for most read posts is one from the second year of the blog, about gardening with V. I titled it “The most fertile soil on the planet” and that’s pretty much the series of words, or a variation therein, that brings people to that post.  Perhaps I should do a series of posts like that, with titles like “The Happiest Place on Earth” or “Best Dental Practices” and see what happens to my readership.

It's a little strange, how new people wander in to the Languishing universe. When Languishing was a print zine, it had a ripple effect when contributors shared their comped copies, but it was a small ripple. So go the internets, I suppose. Big, irregular, random ripples.

Leftover snapshots

Sometimes I take photos and I mean for them to end up in a particular post, but they just don't. And then sometimes I go back and notice these photos and think, huh, that was kinda pretty.

And then sometimes I think of that old Sesame Street segment, "One of these things is not like the other." And I get all sappy and nostalgic.

And then I share it with you.

Other fantasies I like to entertain

So I wrote recently about my plans for winning the lottery. But wait, there's more! (there's always more....)

Anyway, with (nearly) unlimited funds, I'd buy a place like this, paint it in Edward-Scissorhands-like colors, and invite my friends to pick their own cabins. Wouldn't that be fun? We could have sun tea every day at two in the afternoon, and sit outside on metal lawn chairs and fan ourselves with paper fans and watch our dogs do cute things like wear funny hats and bring us cans of beer.  And on tuesdays, we'd have sushi on the roof of the larger house, overlooking the lake, and on Saturdays we'd have a big bonfire and burn old student papers.

As soon as my stupid state reopens, I should really buy a lottery ticket for once. I have so much to do.

Ebony and Ivory

Seven meeting Rocket for the first time.

Thanks for all your happy responses to Seven! Some of you had questions about him, and since he's all I want to talk about lately, I'm more than happy to do another post.

We found Seven through Petfinder.com, a lovely way to yank your own heartstrings. I have read more than enough student essays on puppy mills to convince me of the importance of pet adoption, but we've also had our share of less than perfect pets through adoption. I do recommend pet adoption, though, to anyone considering pet ownership.  There are so damn many dogs (and cats, and bunnies....) waiting.

We didn't have a name chosen when we went to pick him up, but we had fun on the drive home: V liked Milk, Coconut, and Vanilla (but she may have just needed a snack). I loved Umlaut and Dr. Nutbucket (any pet name that begins with "Dr." or "Mr." is automatically funnier). Shaun was unimpressed, until I mentioned numbers. Eleven? Five? (I liked Five, because V is, of course, a roman numeral....) I said we could name him Nine, after Roger Maris. And it came to us, clearly, as a family, that this little dog should be named Seven. It's a Seinfeld reference, and also V was born on the seventh of September. And it's a lucky number. And Mickey Mantle's. And none of us hated it (though I cried a little to lose Dr. Nutbucket).

Aside from his eye, Seven is healthy (knock on wood!), though he does sometimes make funny little hiccup/burp noises when he sleeps. It's just about the cutest sound ever.

Busy and Angry and Tired, oh my!

Busy: It's the last four weeks of the semester, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, that's right. It means I'm up to my neck in grading, the laundry's piling up, and the car needs washed. And yet....I want to blog. I want to frolic and share and love all of you, and piss on this giant stack of student papers. (Well, not literally. Once, when we had a black miniature poodle named Zuul with some anger issues, he peed on some student papers. Those were fun to hand back). It's funny how that works, isn't it? How just when we feel totally tapped out we seee something shiny and suddenly have all the energy we could want.

Angry:  Oh, lord, I'm angry at snow. I've never been mad at snow before, that I can recall, though probably I have. But it just.will.not.leave. It's filthy and grey and going to flood our river all to hell but it's taking its own sweet time.We still have 6' high piles all around. And just when the driveway is almost clear, we get another 7 inches. Even Shaun's getting in on this anger party: a couple of weeks ago he came home just furious at the weather. So we talk about moving, and watch a movie or two, and then spring finally shows up and we forget about moving until next winter. Gak. Stupid sneaky snow.

Tired: I'm tired of being busy and angry, I guess. I'm looking forward to my sabbatical but it still seems entirely abstract and far away. I want to set out a bird feeder, and cook something new, but mostly I just want to take a nap. And blog.

Anyway, what a depressing, whiny post! Here, I will offer you something to cheer you up. V had two birthday parties to attend on Saturday, and we made the gifts for both. Here's the second party, at our local bowling alley (bowling parties are fun! I'd never been to one before!). We made our friend Oscar Costumes on a Stick, and he let his guests show them off with him.

I think they were a success! And isn't this a much happier ending? I thought so.

Languishing's first ever video post.

Let's hope we don't break the internet.

Progress

I feel a little like my last post was trying to pretend everything was fine, and normal goofy things were all I was thinking of. But you know that's not true, and so do I. At the same time, our current crisis is so acute and personal, it doesn't necessarily make for good blog reading. Please bear with me as I figure out posting in the next few weeks...

I can tell you that Shaun feels very much that he's in the right place. He has a team of people providing him with support in all kinds of areas, and has already made significant progress. I'm hesitant even to write that, because we've seen the one step forward, two steps back phenomenon many times, and "progress" is a hard thing to pinpoint when it comes to mental health.

The plan right now is he'll continue in the outpatient program for a total of 10-15 days, so 2-3 weeks. Hopefully he'll be able to work at least some of his shifts this weekend, too. As things return to normal around here, I hope to have more posts about pictures and 5 year olds. I hope that's okay with y'all.