Happy Halloween, friends.

I wonder if she also has an occasional spider dream.
Except hers, I'd imagine, are the happy kind.

We've decided on a murphy bed for our tiny house.
Not everyone is pleased with that.

I ran into an old friend at Dog Eared Books.
I do love those happy surprises.

Poor Monday morning. Even though the ritual is exactly the same (radio, kitten loves, two cups of coffee in bed), it never feels as relaxed or as happy as Sunday.

I play in my first ever music recital this afternoon. Bach's Minuet No. 1. Otherwise known as the piece every aspiring 9-year-old violinist plays at her first recital. (Which Francesca totally rocks, by the way.)

But you're never too old for the important milestones. Right?

Just when I get to thinking that I can do without this crap job, something kind of extraordinary happens. Like someone brings a baby lamb, rejected by her mother, to the office so she can be bottle fed every three hours.

True, it doesn't change the nature of the job much. But the work environment scores many points.

A September story for you. In October, because that's how I roll.







My first trip to Heath. And taken by bike.
One glorious, glorious day.

My favorite tree.

It's been pushed around a bit by the railroad tracks and the telephone lines; that's true. But it's grown up there anyway: a wisp of triumph in all this flatness.

Happy days are here again
Pol-a-roid will make instant film again

Though I will admit to feeling a bit torn: what happens to The Impossible Project? (In the long term, that is.)

*****

Also, rain today. Which is lovelier than anything.

I wondered how it would work when we finally saw each other again.

But we just walked. Right on by. Easy-peasy.

Like everything that ever was never really was at all.

A short list of my modest accomplishments since June:

I saw my Dad. And introduced my husband to him. Which went something like this:
Hi Dad. It's Erin. (Remember me?) Oh, and this is my husband. What's that? Yes! I got married. Um, eight years ago. (It was only with very great strength that I left out the "Surprise!")
I did some quick math beforehand; it'd been 14 years. And it went really well. Actually, it made me wonder why I waited so long.

I rode my bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. Really. Right over the bridge and into Sausalito. Or, more precisely, I rode over the bridge and walked into Sausalito. But, you know, there's a lot of downhill involved in that bit after the bridge. So, let's refocus:

I rode my bike over the Golden Gate Bridge.

And now, as my host kindly explained to me after the crossing, I am invincible. Officially.

I took (good) pictures of the entire excursion with the Blackbird, fly. Wait: ! (Yes, she and I are on again, it seems.)

I finished a knitting project. Which may not sound like much, at first. But it's a feat I haven't managed to pull off in something like two years. Which -- I don't know -- depending on you, still may not sound like much. But the knitters will know. Of this I am sure.

I nearly quit the cello, but didn't. In fact, I left my lesson that night having agreed to play in the recital. While I could take this opportunity to feel like a chump, instead I am relieved. I have actually practiced lately and, though too early still to be certain, I think I am finally getting this thing. (Which isn't, of course, to say that I no longer make this lovely instrument sound like a stepped-on bagpipe or a strangled cat, but rather that I think I have it in me to someday be able to play music. For reals.)

I nearly quit my job, but didn't. Still haven't decided if I'm proud of that. Nor have I really decided not to quit. Just not yet. I am working to balance two impulses:
1. I will not let this nasty economy compel me to stay in a job I have stopped liking.
2. Thank goodness I have a job in this crappy economy.
Am I alone here?

I learned how to bench press. Like a power lifter. (Kindly ignore that it's only 30 lbs. I'm hefting. As I've said before: arms of cooked spaghetti.)
It's a little one, sure, but still pretty rad. Says me.

I had a camera on hand when I needed one. There I was: Tuesday, post-storm, sunset!, and a murder of crows flying around in their unsettled, post-storm way. And I, armed with my Pentax K1000, was ready for them! An experience so exhilarating it completely made up for that Saturday morning when, on a desolate downtown street, a hundred or so crows put on quite a show overhead, and I -- in the midst of my attempt at Project 365 no less! -- had left the house without my fucking! camera!
Even thinking about that moment used to hurt. But the pain, I'm happy to report, lingers no longer.

Which brings us to this week, and so I think that is all. (What? Did you think "short" meant abridged?) All pictures are, of course, forthcoming -- just as soon as I spend some quality time with the scanner.

♥

The Blackbird, fly and I are a tumultuous pair. One roll, I love her. The next, I swear I will never talk to her again.

waterhalo, via Here's lookin at me kid

If Rick made dessert PSAs.

(Oh, poor cake. Don't worry, though; you have a friend in me.)

I take my first yoga class tonight. And though it is such an ordinary thing for so many, I am filled with trepidation. My arms have all the strength of cooked spaghetti.

to make you smile: 1, 2, 3
(Yeah, I don't know. Just kangaroos (and wannabes) today, is all.)

We kid sometimes that he makes for a very good wife, and I am more the husband. Which is a little bit funny, and a little bit true.
It's a lot of good things, actually. Just I'm not sure it's what I've wanted.

The last of the summer... :: Untitled :: in work :: this particular fall | i will remember

Fall is here. I am finally feeling alive again. (I could sing October's praises all year.)