naive melody

This is our front yard.... or was, because these pictures were taken (by drew) in the fall. Now, everything is brown, gray, and naked. You'll just have to come see it for yourself... Laura, Emily. My digital camera is broken... maybe not beyond repair, but buttons get stuck, the shutter is permanently open, and I have to beg it not to die. There is a lot of shaking and swearing involved in just taking one little picture. So, in conclusion, there will not be any new pictures for a little while. Maybe not til I get a job and can put "digital camera" on my list of things I need. Speaking of jobs....

Please tell me someone will hire me? But... it can't just be anyone. Sigh. I'm picky.... this is no surprise. I've been picky since the day I was born. I often call myself "Picky-Picky" in my head in memory of Ramona Quimby's late cat. I don't just want any old job. I want one that makes me feel good and fulfilled and complete. Like I am part of something bigger than myself. I want to help people, learn from them, watch them, study them (ha, without all the work of research because another one of my wonderful virtues is laziness), and just feel like I am contributing to the greater good of society. Helping our little species march forward in the name of progress. How can I do this? How can I take the things I love.... people, food, gardening, cooking, preservation of local cultures, and a need for productivity and turn it into something that will pay me enough money to sustain myself? Ah, the never ending question. I suppose there are some opportunities for me out here in Hutch. I don't know what they are yet. It seems, when I look at job websites, my options are nurse or grain elevator operator. I don't think I wanna do either. I get kinda.... itchy and icky inside when I think about being a nurse... like I'd be settling for something. I don't really like bodily fluids or stress enough for that profession. When I look at farm laborer jobs, I laugh and think "hey, that might be fun!" but I'm really good at romanticizing things in my head and getting pissed when they aren't that romantic in real life. I hope Drew understands that I will not just take any old fucking job. I have to feel good about it.... like i'm learning and creating and becoming a better person, etc. He has gotten better at not pressuring me to get out there and apply for jobs that make me uncomfortable. He wants me to step outside my comfort zone now, but um..... no. That'll be my decision, thanks, and I'll do it when I damn-well want to. I am also stubborn and don't like to be told what to do. I hope I do not have children who are like me; lazy, picky, and stubborn. Ok, I'm being a little self-deprecating here. I have good qualities. Thats for another blog post.

I've been at this coffee shop far too long. There is this little place on Main Street called Brook's on Main that (if I'm brave enough) I'd like to go check out tomorrow. Gotta switch up my internet using places. Although I am a little bit in love with these 4 old men who come here a few times a week to play cards all afternoon. What a glorious life. I love eavesdropping on their conversations. I'm gunna take Eliza for a walk in a bit and then hopefully be able to catch some Paula Deen at 5:30 and then we're gunna watch the State of the Union address which will hopefully spark some interesting conversations between Drew and I. Now, I'll leave you with an old-ish picture of Echo.... because she never fails to make your day better (ok, except when you wake up and step in her barf, or she pees on your bed, or she chases her damn crack-mouse around the house at 3 am... but she is easily forgiven when she curls up in the warm spot behind my butt and looks at me with cute, tired cat eyes).