Four months later, four waffles to the wind
Friends, it is the last day of June, a Friday night, and the fireflies are out in the hedgerows. I have eaten four waffles and I am drunk. On waffles. Migraines don't mix with alcohol, so waffles are how I relax now. I don't have a problem, you have a problem!
I'm drunk (wafflewise) because I have not posted to this blog in four months, and I'm having anxiety about getting back to it. But my revisions are 98% done, for now, and I have no excuse.
Once, a friend and I kept a blog going for eight years. That's a century in blog years. It's as strange to be posting to a different site as it is coming home to a place you've just moved into. Home is where the hedgehogs are, as they say, and there are no hedgehogs here. But I've missed blogging since the old blog quietly passed into oblivion, and it's time to settle in to this one.
So let's catch up. Since we last saw each other, I've spent most of my time revising, which is not interesting. I have also been suffering from a strange condition wherein my eyes and ears bleed every time I watch or listen to the news. I didn't take pictures of that, but I did collect other evidence of time passing.
We left off in February, when winter had not yet arrived. It finally showed up in March, two or three feet of it at once.
Winter stayed until approximately the end of forever, so when 50-some-odd associates of mine had children, it was very cold and wet.
My three-year-old poinsettia bloomed a few days later, for Easter, as if it knew it was supposed to put on red for some religious holiday but wasn't sure which one.
When spring arrived, I became enamored of this plant I spotted on a walk...
...only to discover it's an invasive species, much hated in Colorado particularly. I was sorry, because I think it's astonishingly beautiful. "Noxious weed" indeed.
The weather had no idea what it was doing for a while, so the cherry trees bloomed early:
And then it was cold again and then too hot and then we learned about a new season called "monsoon" which has not yet ended. Fortunately, I have a porch, so I can still write outside, hidden by these vines.
The vines are killing this lilac bush and taking over the house - they have already tried to crawl in an upstairs window, no joke - but I like how it gives the impression that a witch lives here. I've always had "witch" as a career goal and living in what looks increasingly like an abandoned house is step one. Special thanks to my landlord for making my dreams come true! Seems like sarcasm; is not sarcasm.
Now that we're all on the same page re: the passage of time, I hope to blog once a week or so, with or without assistance from waffles.