You Could Be Mine

The opening scene of the movie that is my life this very afternoon.

I went on a walk with Tyra this afternoon again. Yes, it's really cold out and yes, there was more snow on the ground. The good thing about being out in this particular weather is that you are far less likely to run into another human being whilst dancing around in an "empty" park, to music that only you are currently privy to.


The above photo was actually taken maybe 2 days ago, but I basically looked just like this again today. :) White hoodie though. 'Cause you know - I'm spicy like that with my flashy wardrobe.


Hey look - it's me again.

Ok. So back to my story. When we get to this, the most glorious part of the walk, I take Tyra off of her leash and let her have at the snow banks. She is never more happy than when she is able to sniff any piss spots unhindered by me, the leash, and my concept of "walking". We don't necessarily have the same behavioral patterns when it comes to this concept, so when we're both unhinged and able to meander near one another, things work even better for us.

It's freezing cold outside. As in 5 degrees, negative 6 degrees "Real Feel". I left the house at 4:00, so I bet it was maybe 3-4 degrees warmer, but still. By the time I left the park, I was quite aware of the feeling of my stiff jeans - the ones two sizes too big for me - touching my red frozen thighs underneath. Those of you who have experienced this pre-frostbite feeling know what I'm talking about. It's weird. I didn't even feel when my phone vibrated in my back pocket to tell me I had received a text message. That's one frozen ass. Brr.

Anyway. Since I'm quite recently obsessed with Guns 'N' Roses all over again, with the acquisition of their "Greatest Hits" album, I was of course doing the snake dance all through the park, with a less dramatic version for those parts of the walk that take us through neighborhoods and prying windows. The front half of the park is pretty much all wooded - not with the massive pines like they have up north, but the ones that host the prettiest colors each and every autumn. There are a few trails through there that I like to mosey on through. Something about the woods - maybe I was a wood fairy in a past life. :) Or Paul Bunyan.

I also quite enjoy the big ring around the open field at the other end of the park - especially where there are again trees. It just occurred to me that I really am, literally, a tree-hugger. How did I not realize this before now? Hm. Interesting.....interesting...........

But maybe not as interesting to you, so I'll try better to stay on track with this story. Tyra is following her nose from pee-spot to pee-spot, I'm listening to "Civil War" through my headphones and dancing my ass off down the powdered path. I wish I would've brought a camera. You could see my slippery dancin' footprints in the snow behind me.

As I'm singing harmony along to one of Slash's many guitar solos and alternatively pretending to be Axl Rose, complete with arm movements and swinging hips, to accompany the oh-so-rockin' vocals. Because - let's face it, people. One cannot properly rock out to Guns 'N' Roses without plenty of dramatic facial expressions, dancing, screeching, and half-whispered phrases like "patience..." or "what's so civil about war, anyway?" On a good day, I can even do the whistling. It's a bit more difficult when your face is frozen.

So there I am, completely in my own world, twirling about, singing like I was either alone in my room, or singing karaoke with my friends who are generally rocking along from their chairs. Mid-twirl, I notice there's an older gentleman on the path just ahead of me. Brown Carhartt jacket, one of those sweet grandpa hats with the ear flaps - down even - and a walking stick of some sort. He had obviously seen me before I noticed him. I wonder how long I had been amusing this guy.

I put Tyra back on her leash to pass him, and pulled one of my earphones out of my head, so I could also hear if he said anything to me. It occurred to me that in the past, I would've been quite embarrassed in a similar situation. Simultaneously, it also occurred to me that I sincerely was not. Not worried about it in the very least. I may have appeared strange to this guy who was probably nearing his 70's, but I doubt very highly that my singing and dancing was disturbing to stumble upon during a walk. I would love that, if I had run into it. Can you imagine? A world where we all wander around singing and dancing if the mood strikes? Sweet.

As I passed the man who has lived more than twice as long as I have, I made eye contact and we smiled at each other. I said "you're one of the brave ones - to be out in this". He smiled bigger and replied "you are too - one of the brave ones". Maybe it's just me, but I don't think he was talking only about the weather.

I grinned back at him and put my other headphone on just as "You Could Be Mine" came through. There was no need to pause and discuss - just two human beings, sharing a few smiles as we both continued on our respective paths. It was cool. Thought you might like that story too.

Love,

~Q~

Unexpected Reaction

February 2nd and I'm finally moving into the room I'm technically occupying. That's only - what - five and a half months of couch surfing in my mom and dad's home, where I grew up?

Not too shabby, Q, not too shabby. :)

I worked for probably five and a half hours, listening to the Cirque du Soleil soundtrack for "Varekai", which is achingly beautiful in a way that flies high above the various languages it speaks. I cleaned off the big dresser, which was definitely my sister's and before that I believe was my Grandma and Gran'pa Nelson's. Up until today, it had served primarily as a dumping ground for unopened mail, various hats, and a few things that Emily didn't move out with her when she left home many years ago. Now, it's much more in line with me. I also cleaned my highboy dresser, I cleaned the corner shelves and put all my books away, cleaned off the desk and even put several photos in new frames.

I'll post photos of my reorganized room when I get to that point. Right now, half of the room is in that awful middle stage, where things are strewn all over the middle of the floor. Mostly paperwork. :)

When I started this blog post, several hours ago, I was needing a break. I made the mistake of filing through a file folder entitled "Jason". My first Love got a Xerox box for all the 5 1/2 years of our sentiments. Jason got a file folder. A fat one, but not a box. It's either the 3 years vs. the 5 1/2 years, or perhaps I stopped collecting every little thing as I got a bit older. My husband and I actually lived together, too, so there wasn't nearly as many letters or notes to document our relationship.

Anyway - the point is -- that file folder: I wasn't expecting the reaction I had while looking through it. The times I'd go through the original break-up box, which generally happened about once a year, whenever I'd be getting ready to move -- my heart would ache and I'd generally end up crying. I don't really have many of those things left, as I was guilted into throwing away so very many things that had to do with my life prior to meeting Jason. Naturally, a similar sadness would be a reaction I would maybe expect from my first time really sifting through my estranged-husband memorabilia. What happened, however, was much more unexpected.

I literally and quite physically got nauseous. I had to put the folder away without quite finishing the perusal, close my eyes and breathe slowly and deeply so I didn't upchuck all over the carpet. Ew. I did not see that one coming.

Nor did I expect faint waves of sickness to return at the very thought of the things I read tonight. Gotta go - making curtains & watching "When Harry Met Sally". Much less volatile.

Love to you all,

~Q~