secret.genius

We are on a break.

I need to de-blog awhile...

* * * * *

This afternoon, I wrapped up the Happy Pills mini-series that I started on the side-blog. [clicky] That whole project took a lot more out of me than I expected.

1. BTW - I've been very moved by the responses I've received regarding those posts. Totally unexpected. If any of you want to talk about it further or more privately, you are welcome to email me at:

s.g_email_me@yahoo.com

Or if you have an alternate email address for me that you've been using, that's fine. Keep on using it.

2. BTW - If you know me IRL and see me IRL, I don't really want to talk about all that in person. Seriously. Part of me still believes I wrote it in secrecy and privacy, and it will TOTALLY freak me out if you plop down next to me at church or pull up a chair next to me at a BBQ and dare to mention it. No offense. At the moment, just not cool with face-to-face dealings on that front. Thanks.

* * * * *

Okay. All that sounded WAY too serious...so to lighten the moment... if you haven't heard it yet... here's Evangeline's latest "joke":

Eves:"Hey Mommy! Guess what?"

Me:"What?"

Eves:"Chicken-butt!"

I'm so proud.

Have a Safe and Happy 4th, Invisible Audience.

Much love to you,
J.

Yesterday : Part 2

I delivered my wicked little child to Grandma's house across the street and breathed a deep sigh of relief and freedom. I spent one self-indulgent hour just taking a shower and getting dressed. BKG took me to dinner at Max's Bistro & Bar, out on the NE corner of Bullard and West. They are famous for their Sweet Potato Fries, which are lightly battered and deep-fried and are accompanied by a jalapeno dipping sauce. Once you eat the first one, you start to fantasize about a day where all you do is sit on the couch and watch mindless entertainment on television and eat Sweet Potato Fries dipped in jalapeno sauce. 

Last year on my birthday, I got a tattoo. [Click.] This year, I toyed with the thought of getting another one, but ultimately, it did not feel like A Tattoo Year. This year, I treated myself to a martini. I had never had a martini. You know what? It was good. You know what else is good? Eating grown-up food in a grown-up restaurant. [Click.] With grown-up music playing and having a grown-up conversation and admiring grown-up art on the walls.

After dinner I usually like to go for a stroll, but when we exited the restaurant at around 9 pm or so, we were hit by an oppressive wall of summer heat. So we get back in the car and I say, "Let's go to the bookstore."

A decade ago, when I had nothing better to do, I used to spend a lot of time in bookstores.

Last night, we went to Barnes & Noble. I was surprised. I hadn't realized that I had forgotten how a bookstore feels inside. Now, I'll take the little independent Shop Around The Corner over The Big Box Store anyday. But if the Big Box is all there is, you can still feel the romance held in the shelves, if you try. BKG and I went our separate ways. We'd stumble upon each other again, trade discoveries, and then wander off once again in our own directions. I decided, for sure, that I want to start collecting hard cover editions of my favorite fiction.

After awhile, I gravitated past the travel section and over to the blank books and journals. Choosing a new journal used to be An Important Experience for me. Like somehow the materials of which the book was made, the feel of the paper, the look of the empty lines, the artwork on the cover, the threads of the binding -- somehow those details would influence the direction of the next chapter of my life, the tales of the coming seasons colored by the kind of book they were written inside.

I didn't buy a new journal last night.

BKG keeps bugging me:
"When are you going to write a book, babe? If you wrote a book, I would buy it."

I say: "I'm not going to write a book. I don't have a book in me."

I really don't. I know a handful of people who do have books in them. You Know who you are. You. And you. And you. And you, for sure. And I will continue to bother -- I mean encourage -- you to keep working on them. I think that's one of the reasons why I'm here. And why we met and why we are a part of each other's lives. I love you, you future authors out there. And I'm angling for a "thank you" on your Acknowledgements page someday. :o)

I picked out a puzzle book. Because life is a puzzle. On our way to the registers, we passed a bargain book table with this sign on it:

BKG saw it and read it and said to me:

"That's you, babe."

I laughed. That's me.

What I found in a box and what Eves had to say about it.

Last night, I unearthed a shoebox that I suspected contained my paints. This morning I dumped the whole box out and I found this cache of sketchy things (circa 2005). Eves walked in while I was contemplating my find.

"Deese Mommy's paints? Deese pritty, Mommy. Deese look pritty."

And she gave me a big hug.

Happy Friday.
Happy Weekend.
Happy Summer Vacation.

Hope you find something fun that you forgot you had.

Bulletin board

This WAS going to be the next installment in the non-going self-portrait series, but I've discovered that I am looking REALLY fat right now. So TDB. (Too Damn Bad.)

Anyway. I picked up this great big bulletin board at Walmart yesterday for only $9.99. I love bulletin boards. (Almost as much as I love binder clips. Does anyone here KNOW how much I LOVE binder clips? I'm so serious. If ever I meet you face-to-face, Mr. Binder Clip Inventor, prepare to be kissed on the lips by your biggest fan.)

You should've seen me trying to get this thing hung on the wall over my desk this morning. It's only 24 by 36, but it's just big enough to be too awkward to work with by yourself. So I've got a hammer and nails and these picture-hanging-thingies. And a measuring tape. And a pencil with which to make one million semi-meaningless marks on the wall. So I put the nails thru the hangers, put the hangers on the wall, put the brackets on the back of the corkboard, yada yada yada... and none of it was coming together. Ugh.

Finally, I had a brilliant idea. Aside from the frame, the thing's only about a quarter inch thick. A layer of corkboard and a layer of cardboard. I said to myself: "Honey, why do we need to mess with these picture hanging thingies? Why can't we just hammer the nails straight through the corkboard and the cardboard and directly into the wall?" Worked like a charm and only took like 15 seconds. Done deal.

And here's the first exhibit in what will be an ever-evolving display.

A. Two sticks Eves picked up on the playground today. When she sees them up there, I can already hear her: "HEY. Dat MY 'ticks, MA-MEEEE!"

B. A print I ordered last year from Alicia Bock Photography.

C. A quote from Rainer Maria Rilke.

D. Photo of me and Eves taken...gosh...I think that was sometime during her first Christmas.

E. I card I got in the mail today from this psycho-chic who is TOTALLY stalking me. **WINK**

F. A Scrabble tile.

G. A Hello Kitty sticker on an index card. (I also LOVE index cards. Honestly, I'd rather go on a shopping spree through Office Depot than I would Macy's. Such a freak.)

H. A Post-it note upon which BKG declares he "hearts" me.

I. George Clooney.

I still have plenty of space left to fill. If you know me well enough to know my mailing address (or if your detective skills are super sneaky enough to obtain my mailing address through covert methods), send me something cool or funny or beautiful and I'll stick it up there, too.

Can you spot the photog?

Bigger here: View On Black.  Answer here.