Week #47: Life & death

“Nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death.” – William S. Burroughs

I found out today that I’m kind of related to Nathan Hale, not by blood, but by an aunt’s cousin’s way back great-great-something. If you’re not familiar, he’s the guy during the Revolutionary War who said, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” Now, I think that life is one of God’s most valuable gifts to us (after relationship with Him & our eternal souls) & I’m thankful every day for the opportunity to use it well. I’d like to think that AN52 has helped in this. I’ve had to do things intentionally & think about them more than I typically would. Yay, the power of blogs!

I’m a fan of survival scenarios, seeing how people find ways to work a living out of difficult circumstances. But, let me clarify by saying that I like success stories—more Swiss Family Robinson than Alive. I don’t know what I would do if I found myself in a Donner Party-esque situation, but if it’s between me & Bambi, you know that sucker’s going down. Or so I say. I’ve never killed an animal to eat it, but now my hands smell like oranges & death.

I bought a lobster on my way home. As I carried the box up to the register, I felt like I’d won a fish at the fair—excited, responsible, tense—probably not a good relationship with something you’re about to kill. Logic & sentiment tossed back & forth in my brain. Who am I to take this life? This is what this lobster is here for. Why did I name him Albert? I set Albert on the table as the macabre opera of deadly preparations unfolded before him. He didn’t blink an eye (really, he had no eyelids). As the water boiled, he & I communed & I came to sense his resignation to his fate. (This is probably reading waaay too much into an animal’s last moments, but I’m unabashedly being Anne Shirley here.)  So I did it; I threw him in the water, headfirst & took his life. Then I ate him. The meat was alright, but not the greatest smell, so I chased it with an orange.

I’m not planning on directly killing any more animals soon, but at least now I know if I’m ever stranded in the wild, I can survive by preparing myself a lobster dinner 😉

Week #46: A novel tea

“It’s always tea-time.” – Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

As I write this post, my friend’s dog is sitting next to me. He’s a big black ball of sweetness who likes to good-naturedly crush internal organs as he clambers up to join you on the couch. I love him to pieces, but he’s not exactly the picture of elegance. His farts are silent, but deadly lethal weapons. His favorite pastime is destroying stuffed animals & decorating the room with a blizzard of their insides.

In a lot of ways, I’m like that dog (I have a whole “if people were only cats or dogs theory”). I’m bubbly, good-natured, hazardous & somewhat inelegant. Growing up, I’ll admit that I had a few girly phases. However, the majority of my youth was spent in a wild, tomboy-ish manner—which has bent my thoughts around certain girly traditions. Like manicures (yick!), heels (blech!) or tea parties (meh.)

The same friend who owns said dog is the exact opposite of that. She’s the über girl, decked out with bows & bracelets, heels that click as she sashays through shopping marathons. She was the one who had a tea party bridal shower today. Other than little  tea parties I threw when I was little (small food has been a long-time fascination), I had never previously been to a tea party before. It was fun & girly & I was too busy running around as the “Official Photographer” to actually drink tea (oh, the irony). But I did get the bride tea & eat finger sandwiches & dress up, so that counts in my book, so bottoms up!



Weeks #44 &45: Double time

“The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.”–C.S. Lewis

There are seven weeks left in this year. Seven AN52 things. I have ideas for a few of the weeks, but this is the final countdown & it’s making me nervous. There’s a sensation of simultaneously straining uphill at the end of a marathon & tumbling down a mountain at the head of an avalanche. I don’t like it. But I am proud of all that I’ve accomplished this year & a strong finish will just be the ring on the Hobbit (which I’m super excited for, by the way!).

So one step at a time, soldier on, stiff upper lip & all that, wot, wot! Last week (#44), I completed my AN52 thing on time, but hadn’t gotten to the post before the week expired. Stella the guitar has been a part of my life since I was 14. She & I have had great times together & written a lot of silly half-songs. However, I am ashamed to say that I’ve only had the strings changed twice & never once by me, until—you can see what’s coming—last week! With my boss’s help, I changed two guitar strings (& broke a string & a bottom peg).

Since it’s the election year & week & day, no prizes for guessing what I did today. Though I’ve voted in a presidential election once before via mail-in ballot, this was my first time at the presidential polls. & I’ve found the key for the perfect voting experience is three-fold. 1) Get up ridiculously early to beat the lines & long estimated wait time. 2) Grab a McMuffin to leisurely enjoy while waiting in line. Proceed to scarf down in 4 minutes (due to hunger & actual wait time). 3) Go with a friend. Friends make everything better. Et voilá—merry Mc-vote-y magic!

Stay tuned folks, for seven more weeks of mayhem, homestretches & crazy inane avalanches!

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