Big Toys for Big Boys (and Girls)

I expect boys to be excited by this big equipment. What I didn't realize is what a big kick I would get out of it. Hopefully, my husband will get permission to post the digger ballet online, and soon I'll be able to link you to a 10-minute show featuring six diggers and some talented electronic violin/viola/piano/cello women from Britian doing a choreographed routine showing off the capabilities of the machines. Very cool. Meanwhile, enjoy this pic of a very large (4 meter high) tire on a gigantor dump trunk. This is what my husband does for a living. Not bad, if somebody's gotta do it.

Wo in der Welt ist Walerie?

Where in the world is Valerie?
Photo courtesy of Husby. Yes, this may come as a shock to some of you reading this, but Valerie has left the building. She's left the city, the state, the country, the continent. Here's a super quick recap of how it went down. Husby called, saying that his company wanted him to stay in Germany until the middle of May. They renewed their offer to fly me out to stay with him, and I said, Why the hell not? I got myself a dog sitter, cool folks covered my shifts at work, I rescheduled the IRS, and canceled my hair appointment. Flew to Germany yesterday. In Munich today. More later from an Internet cafe near you.

True Colors

"And that's why I love you, so don't be afraid to let them show..."

Sitting on the Pity Potty

That's what my Mom called it, when I would feel sorry for myself, especially and usually when she didn't feel it was warranted. Feelings were generally discouraged in our house, and in her house before us, and so on, down a long line of uptight, do-right, soldier-through Scandanavians and Puritan Europeans. As an adult free to do as I please, I typically alternate between the extremes of being completely disconnected and distanced from my intense emotions, and overwhelmed by them. I wasn't given the proper tools to learn how to cultivate my overactive imagination and rich, melodramatic feelings into healthy growth that I can experience daily without being blown over. What, you ask, brings up these musings? Well, it hasn't exactly been the best of weeks. Good old IRS man got back to us and informed us that to settle our audit, we'll owe the bastards $2400 in back taxes, penalties, and interest. Worse, I fell dramatically on Monday and injured some ligaments and other tender stuff in my foot and ankle (soft tissue damage, they call it, when they don't think anything is broken). Clumsy since the day I was born, my gracelessness produces ever more drastic results as my body ages. I've missed work, I've been on painkillers, and I'm wearing an aircast, one of those funky plastic boots with pumped up air cushions to isolate and support. Notice how the bluish tones above the ankle give way to putrid green on the foot, and if you look really closely, you can see the purple where the blood pooled by my third and fourth toes. Not sure when I'll be able to wear a shoe again. Sexy, eh?

I'm sad that Husby is leaving for Germany in three days, and I'm frustrated that yet again, we are having difficulty coordinating our schedules so that we'll be able to take time off together sometime this year. Meanwhile, good things are happening as well. I've started organizing my files for the second edition of the dog book, giving myself oodles of time to update the book so that it's a fun, easier process than the drastic, life-altering course of the first edition. I've also received the first draft of a manuscript and a contract from my sister-in-law to begin work on co-authoring and editing a book project based on her broken marriage to a pathological liar. I've been able to get my office arranged so that I can focus more time and energy on my talents of writing and photography, making them profitable for my little family unit. It's time we had it a little easier. Time for me to act to make that happen.

How Dare He?

I try not to watch the news. I really do. But I caught a few minutes last night after watching American Idol, and then getting caught up in Medium. Gas prices are rising again, up to $4 a gallon in San Francisco, and the reporter stated that President Bush says we, as Americans, are to blame for our excessive oil consumption. When oil companies are making staggering profits; when our leaders have lied to us at every opportunity; and when their every policy has been in support of corporate welfare and concentration of wealth and against environmental responsibility, thus giving us little choice in the matter; hearing him say that, even by hearsay, is extremely painful. We are being betrayed by our leadership at every turn. It makes me very angry. I could write letters, I could make calls, I could stand on street corners with signs. It wouldn't matter. I can, and do, do my part to reduce excessive consumption and be responsible. We own one car, it's a Prius. I take the bus. I'm going to buy an electric bicycle. Other than these small things I can afford to do, I wish I believed there was some legitimate action I could take that would produce real change. That, short of revolution and the damage violent action would cause, and the toll it would take on our lives, there must be something we as a people could do to improve our state of the union. Oust our corrupt leaders, for starters!