P o c k e t CT

A few months ago Christopher and I were walking behind amethyst brook in Amherst and came along a sand pit with a dirt bike zooming around. The rider appeared to be trying to make as much noise as possible from the thing as well as zipping by at high speed right over where I was standing moments ago. Had I not scurried completely off the path I would have been mud splashed. What is the point of these things, to waste fuel? to make noise? to make me crazy with the sound of it? Somehow moments before this we were chatting about an improv everywhere prank. I don’t remember which, it could have been the Best Game Ever or the Subway Twins Thing. I was thinking that although I love the ideas that they come up with they really short change rural environments, always in cities. I think between those two things happening Christopher got the idea to stage a protest in my town for something that would be personally horrible – a ATV and dirt bike speedway. We had schemes of actors chained to bulldozers, press coverage, an ATV parade. April first came up fast and we did the part of the plans that could be down with a wee budget and little time.

On Tuesday night, after yoga teacher training, Adam and I zipped around town staple gunning 100 posters to phone poles. The first couple up were great fun, shutting off the headlights, trying not to laugh too loud. The 5th – 100th kinda lost it’s charm but we were finished in about an hour. Last thing was to include the big rally poster on the library and store. Well the library only had glass for posters and that seemed like a bad mix with a staple gun so the store got two of them.

The next day I didn’t hear anything about it. Adam went to the store in the morning and saw someone come in and ask “what’s this thing about the speedway?” and Donna promptly said “Christine Texiera, April Fool.” That was sort of a let down so I called Donna as soon as I got to cell range and told her I was at the Vermont border and that I stayed with Christopher the night before. Perfect alibi, bootie in Vermont. Then I didn’t hear anything more – much to my disappointment.

On Thursday though Theresa and I went to the pub where I tried to use my alibi even in the face of being spotted by Lorraine putting the posters up at the store. Rebekah made be swear not to cop to it so I kept on with things like “Oh I wish I had done it,” “I’ll take the credit for it,” and “Who else could have done it.” The last one was a fun discussion that had options like my neighbor Jess or another woman who writes the beer reviews for the pub. I suggested Robert Heller if it were all text but for the pictures it would have been plausible. Patti said she was going to email the town list and have a vote for whodunnit. I laughed all the way home.

Last night was Naked Ladies and Donna would be there. She said, “Isn’t it awful what they are planning for the common we should have a protest” and for a moment I was excited to the rejuvenation of the bulldozer idea. I tried to deny it, but Donna tricked me by saying “Lorraine saw you and your boyfriend laughing and putting the posters up at the store” before I realized what was out of my mouth I said “not my boyfriend” which is as good as saying “oh yeah it was me alright.” Ok well I am just not that good of a liar.

It was a good April Fools. Adam had a fabulous prank about Monsanto making pine trees that are capable of maple sap and Christopher wrote a press release that the Guiding Star Grange sold its naming rights to Real Pickles, naturally fermented. Improv Everywhere totally sucked me in with the post for Best Funeral Ever; which I showed my boss in disgust and couldn’t even watch the video I was so appalled.

You can click to embiggen the poster if you want to!

We are in the coat room at the grange after a wonderful full dance. The coats, boots, bags and winter accessories take up more volume than usual. This is because of the popularity of the dance as well as the size of New England Winter gear. Christopher is sitting on the floor changing shoes. I spot Diba’s winter boots.

“Hey Let’s put a cute note in Diane’s shoes”

“Do we know which are hers?”

“Yes, the impossibly small for an adult, orange boots”

I look for paper and find an purple flier for a bygone dance. As Christopher finishes up with his shoes he gets a mischievous grin.

“Look at all these shoes Christine, all sorts of these lovely people to leave notes for”

I smile – oh yes, lots of people that may need notes, lots and lots of shoes.

I then rip the paper into business card sized snippets and start to write. “I adore you beautiful girl” “your presence here makes me happy” “the world is better because of your smile” I give Christopher my notes and he chooses which footwear deserve which of the notes. Then I pass the paper to him and put my shoes on. He writes and I stuff. I have no idea whose boots I am putting them into, I choose by what kind of shoe it is and match it to the text.

I am uncertain if anyone found these. Perhaps they put the shoe on without noticing and walked on the sentiment until it was a pulpy half disintegrated mess. I think about those people walking on the notes, absorbing the positive thought that went into them like a spell.

So now Valentine’s day is approaching; a holiday I loathe for so many reasons. This changes depending on whether or not I am romantically involved at the time. If not I feel left out, feel the hole in my life and remember heartbreaks. If I am, I feel pressure to swallow societies idea of romance. I don’t like roses, recycle cards at a rapid pace and am not sure about hearts. Why is that shape romantic? Why not a circle, which I much prefer, or a spiral? I want to say to whoever I am with- oh forget that stuff, but can’t put my finger on what I do want out of the holiday – which sometimes, is something. So I don’t like roses, they die too fast and feel wasteful are too impractical for me but I like hand picked weeds which aren’t exactly abundant in the Northeast in February. Sexy underwear? It is like four degrees out. I think long johns are sexy and that doesn’t exactly match what the world is pumping out in their advertising schemes. Chocolate? Well yes, but that I like all the time and now it seems like every day. One would have to hang with strings artistically from to my bedroom ceiling to make me go wooo. I don’t like prepackaged sentiment or kitsch. I like solid, real, active regard, respect, kindness, thoughtfulness and consideration but not especially on February 14th. I’m pretty sure I like that all the time. But when you get that all the time what do you want on a romantically themed holiday?

I also feel the left out part of everyone in my life who is unattached. It feels unfair, like when the restaurant brings your food first and no one else has any yet. You can offer to share some but it isn’t the same. It is far better when the eggs benedict come at the same time as the omelette. So this is the first with Christopher and do I tell him I hate it? Especially when he told Adam that the Flurry falls on “Valentine’s weekend” with a smile in his voice. Maybe he likes it and I don’t wanna be a buzz kill for fun. The other day Christopher and I are talking about our volunteer shifts for the Flurry. He lights up, “you know we are in a position of power with all the volunteers coming in. We get to give them packets of stuff. Let’s make valentines and give them out to friends.”
“like elementary school?”

Then I am picturing artist trading card style collage snippets for all the people I like best.

I took me the day to realize just how awesome the idea is for me. No longer am I frowning about the day, now I am sort of excited. So what if I don’t really like heart shapes. I will think of it like the book “The Dot” and make all different kinds of them. I can make them out of circles, triangles and square. I can really have fun with this now, and I so appreciate that.

So my blogging anniversary came and went and did I post? No. Did I offer you lovely readers my 2009 calendar as celebration that I can stick words here for you? No. Did I finish that calendar? Sadly no. Did I write up all my search terms and blog stats like I did last year? No. But I did look at them and laugh. People land on my site searching for penis tattoos, me, mushroom hunting or holidays – just like last year. I didn’t count but I would guess that there are less posts than last year but it doesn’t mean I am stopping. I didn’t write about holidays, being with family, delicious time hanging out with Christopher, lovely friends or dancing my tail off on New Years. Nope.

I started to make the 2009 calendar but will any of you want it with the Hot Blogger Calendar out there? But you probably WOULD want all my holidays! I collected all the holidays for the calendar and I put them on to a label sheet that you can download here and here. Now you can adorn whatever calendar you already have! If you have access to print 30/sheet labels feel free to download but make sure you have my font** as well or it won’t look right. If you are on a mac use this one and this one for generic fonts. If you want a set mailed to you let me know you address and I will zip one off to you. There are two holidays per label so you get <fancy music>Over One Hundred Holidays!<\fancy music>

For those of you who would like a calendar I am still making one. I am looking for artwork and need to print it. When finished I will post a pdf so you can print your own. Or I will be happy to print one and send it to you. Again I just need that little item of a mailing address.

So blogging world it has been two years now and I think you are just awesome. Thank you for showing me those parts of your world and participating in what ever way you do to mine. It makes my life better to have you all in it.

** This font, which is my handwriting, can be used for any purpose but impersonating me. If you make money on it let me know so I can have a feeling of total surprise at this and say something like “Well now good for you”

(This is a re-post from last year. I tried to think of something more absurd but couldn’t)

Today is Absurdity Day. Why? Know one knows, but it just is. Maybe we should all get used to it take it all in stride like good existential theater. Or maybe you prefer to run around mouth agape at all the over the top crazies you encounter. For me, I think I’ll try to just stay calm.

Some time ago I had a lovely cuddle date with my awesome friend, Diba. She got a bee in her bonnet that she needed more affection and started to frankly ask for it. “Can I have a hug?” “Do you mind if I hug you?” “Will you put your arm around me I am cold?” Sometimes she also coupled this forthright requesting with a mischievous desire to crack the shells of the shy folk around, or bring the aloof into her arena. It is all fun to watch. Lucky me, I get asked, “Can we have a cuddle date?” Yes absolutely. We plan to lounge, read short stories to each other, massage, hug, chat, snuggle … fantastic. The date was arranged.

At some point that day or maybe before Diba says “Jerry is coming too” She is a community builder by nature and can craft anything into bigger and bigger groups. In this way the little cuddle date turned into a cuddle threeway.

At first we talk about God, the structure of the universe, my distrust and disdain for pretentious new agey mumbo jumbo. Here is have to explain myself, Diba teaches Reiki does different kinds of work in that area, but doesn’t in the slightest trigger my snake oil salesman alarms. But that Aristotelean color coded level chart in The Journey of Souls turned me off. We chat about what we hope for out of various relationships in our lives what is happening with people we know. Then our conversation turns to sex, interesting experiences, how to communicate in bed.

And now I bring you to what I want to share with you on this holiday

D to J: there is this one thing I keep telling you about how to please me better and you never remember it

J scrunches his eyes up a little trying to recall

D: Can you remember it?

J: You know there is a perfectly good reason why I can never remember this

at this point Jerry starts getting animated. Too animated for a prone position on the outside of the bed and leans up

J: You see long long ago all the men would be out hunting together and they would kill a dinosaur and bring it back to the tribe. There would be big celebrations and feasting.

(J gets all the way at the end of the bed and waves his arms around in celebration, chest hair popping out of his unbuttoned shirt in a very caveman like way)

The women had been hungry for a long time and awaiting the men’s return. This would go on for a few days. Then the meat started to get a little rotten and the woman started to be a little dissatisfied. She would start her endless nagging. nahnahnahnahnahnahnah

(J puts hands on hips for nagging woman effect)

So the men quickly plan another hunting party. Happy to be away from the women for a few days they traipse around the jungle. (the hands are animated again)

After a few days the men start to get hungry and hungry for the women’s attention. They are thinking to kill another dinosaur and get back the arms of their people. One man could remember the nagging of his women and just took off – he never had any offspring but the guy who couldn’t remember what his woman said (eyebrows up past normal hairline) he bred.

D: What I told you was that you need to be a little gentle

There are so many issues with that story it is hard to begin. I could go on about hunter gatherer societies and how hunting was less important for sustenance than gathering (except in a few.) I could bring up that it is highly unlikely that man ever hunted dinosaur and more commonly chased buffalo over a cliff and feasted on the wreckage. I could playfully knock J off the bed for making that nagging sound about women with two of them in a bed. I could talk about how most lovers start with what their last lover liked but the better ones adjust and you just proved yourself intractably mired in a certain style. But this like good actors in theater of the absurd should be take as if completely mundane. Or like a good fable give it a nice moral at the end.

Moral: Caveman or not if what you are doing puts a woman’s nails deeply embedded into the popcorn ceiling, back arched like a cat screaming and ready to kick you because it is too intense – it is good to back off a little. A good reminder for all of us.

Enjoy your absurdity day. Let me know how you celebrate…

(This is a re-post from last year. I tried to think of something more absurd but couldn’t)

Happy Homemade Bread day.

It is obvious to me what to do to celebrate this day is eat bread and gush about the people in your life that have made you some. First and current is my housemate Adam. When I say “Do you know how to make Pumpernickel Bread?”– he looks in up and informs me that he will make some if I procure some rye flour. I say it is under there and he pulls it out right then and there to get going on it. I took half the loaf to Christopher’s house and yesterday we ate it toasted ala toaster oven with kale and cheddar cheese. Adam is worth celebrating.

Robin makes the best damn potato bread in the entire world.

Rebekah can make croissants and when she did so at the Leverett Coop I made extra efforts to get them.

How about you? Tell me about your favorite bread. Tell me about your favorite bread maker.