Foul, non sequitur*

So, I guess I wasn't quite back on the horse. This post will be a bit disjointed.

So sorry, Gentle Readers, to leave you hanging with no new writings. I've had some things to process, and then a holiday happened, and then another holiday happened, and well, I am a master procrastinator. But I'll tell you about that later.

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There's an amazing amount of depressive procrastination that can set in when a project ends. It is rather amazing. It's almost like a post-partum of sorts (I have lady bits and manufactured a human with them, so I can say that). I devote so much of my time, energy, sanity and whole self to one thing for a certain amount of time, that when that thing is done or over, I almost don't know what to do with myself after that. I guess that it's a good thing that I can immerse myself into a project, and do it to the very best of my ability, but it gets exhausting. And then I need to work a full day, and care for the aforementioned small human. Who is bright and completely awesome, but still exhausting all on her own. Maybe I should start getting weekly lottery tickets.

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One of the things that I am paying the piper for now is that I never really had a career path, not a 'practical' career path. I went to a vocational theater school, and then took accounting adult ed classes after getting laid off from a retail job, and cobbled together a bookkeeping background by working for my husband's family in their various ventures. Now I have all these ideas for things to do that I am passionate about, but I don't have any time at all to do them in, so I just have to hope that I want to work on them when the time is available. Inspiration doesn't have a long shelf life. I don't know that this creative frustration is a product of not having a piece of paper, or just a product of being a functioning adult who is contributing to society. Either way, creatively frustrated, and blaming it on lack of time to devote to all the ideas that are cropping up.

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Gah. Am writing this in a coffee shop--typical, I know, shut up--and my table is facing a table where there are couple of young kids studying. I've been staring over the top of my laptop screen while thinking, but it looks like I'm staring at them, and now I'm pretty sure that they think I'm a creeper. And I can't approach them and say 'hey, I totally wasn't staring at you, I'm just staring into space, and you happen to be right above my laptop screen, and I'm really not a creeper. Am I concerned because there is someone in this room who might not like me? Does it matter if a complete stranger, who I may never cross paths with again, has a less than stellar opinion of me, a complete stranger? This sounds like normal human stuff. I'll chalk it up to normal human stuff.

Also, IT'S FREEZING IN HERE. FREEZING. So, with that, until next time, Gentle Readers.

*If you didn't get this reference, please find Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, the play by Tom Stoppard in either written or film form. As of this post publishing, the 1990 film is on Netflix. Seriously, go watch it.

A list of things

1. The Russians are over taking the stats! Not that there is anything wrong with Russia, or the fine people that make up that country, I merely find it highly suspect that my relatively new blog could be so enticing to more people in Russia than in the US, where this blog is authored. Are a Russian reader, or a reader from somewhere outside the US? Leave a comment. You'll get a prize. For real-real, not for play-play.

2. I wrote a thing that seemed to take a lot out of me last time. It was good to write, but I let it be an excuse to not come back to the blog. So sorry. Done with that excuse for now.

3. National Novel Writing Month is coming up, and quickly too. I should really spend some time thinking about what I want to write 50,000 words about. Maybe catfish. Or wingnuts. Or maybe I spend some time.

4. I have been putting off chopping kindling and making fire starters. I really should get on that and get a good stock pile going while we still have our late summer. October will be chilly, and will be here before we know it.

5. Fall is coming! The pears will be ripe soon, then the apples, then the pumpkins! I have a lot of canning in my future. Hopefully.

Alright, that will do for now. I'm now back up on the horse.

Beaux reves.

Jammin'

First there were these:

lots and lots of brambles!

Which means that there are these:

oh, look at those berries!

Which means that there are lots of these:

so ripe!

Which means that I got lots of these:

so many berries!

 So I made lots of this!

jam!

more jam!

I had some time to myself while picking and picking and picking berries, and I got to thinking about the phrase a peach out of reach, a phrase meaning a lovely thing that you just can't have. So, if a peach out of reach is something that you want and just can't have, would a blackberry out of reach be something lovely that you want and can't have, and will end up bleeding if you try to obtain said lovely thing? Thing is, the latter phrase looses all the flow of the rhyming phrase of a peach out of reach.

Hmm.

Some suggestions: A berry that will parry? A bit esoteric, perhaps. A fruit that will fight? Doesn't really convey the message.

What do you think?