Voice Mail Archives

Here it is, finally finally acting like spring -- and I finally have the day off -- and the sky is blue and the birds are singing, and all I seem to want to do is stay inside and listen to rainy day music and ponder things.

I have a new favorite movie.

My Dad gave me a bird feeder a few weeks ago, cause he's nice like that. I've never had a bird feeder before, never really thought that much about birds to begin with, but my next-door neighbors (they of the charming forsythia hedge) have several feeders in their front yard and a bird bath, and I realized I was jealous of all the cool birds hanging out in their yard and not mine, so I mentioned to my Dad that I might like a bird feeder.

It's Memorial Day Weekend again, despite the crappy weather's best efforts to make it feel like it was still March, so it's time again for Rock Grrrl's Guide To Driving on Cape Cod During the Summer Season!

As I was diligently trying to get some freaking editing done -- ya know, the thing that kind of bores me to tears but I actually get paid decent money to do, rather than the thing that I love love love (swanning about in a headset, wrangling children backstage, and messing about with power tools) and get paid noticeably less to do -- the phone rang.

There is a large white swan floating on the river across the street from my house right now. I can see it directly out my window, through the few trees that the asshole across the street didn't rip out for his megalomansion. On this mild, sunny spring day, the river is a bright blue, and the swan is the purest white slash drifting across it. Every now and then he cries out -- you know, makes that swan noise.

So today I drove myself out to Orleans, the hub of the Outer Cape, and tooled around fetching various items that were both various and fetching. Birthday card and present for my best friend, thank you cards for the cast of the show about to end, computer paper for home (it's been a month at least since I've been able to print anything out -- I keep forgetting to buy paper), candles, a replacement votive holder for the one that cracked the other night with a lit candle in it (kids, this is why you must never leave lit candles unattended, and that includes sleeping. just becaue I have fire and renter's insurance doesn't mean I really want to use them), and other delightful nonsense items that I've been too furrowed of eyebrow and hunched of shoulders to find the time to buy lately.

One of the things that I love the most about my job is that I am inexplicably surrounded by people who mean what they say and say what they mean. It is the oddest thing.

Right now, this moment, things are as they should be. It's my last night off -- ever, I think -- and I am lolling. Man, oh man, am I lolling. I am a state of serious sloth. Mmmmmm... delicious sloth.

I am as bewildered as anyone else to have discovered that I am suddenly Good With Children. I never used to be, but somewhere along life's way my body chemistry mutated and all of a sudden they flock to me.