Right now, I feel like Donna Ison the human spirograph, spinning and spiraling out of control in a rainbow of colors at dizzying speed. But, I'm afraid when I come to a stop, unlike the Kenner toy masterpieces, it won't be a pretty picture.
I’ve spent this week training our new groovy intern who reminds me so much of Lisa Loeb that I want to beg her to sing “Stay (I Missed You),” but I’m afraid that could be considered some form of sexual harassment. As I’ve been telling her all about how many fascinating people I’ve met and how relatively easy the position is, this voice inside keeps screaming, “Being editor is awesome. Run to Human Resources and tell them it’s all been a silly misunderstanding.I didn’t say I wanted to leave skirt! I said I wanted to LIVE skirt!” But then I remind myself that my decisions should be made out of love (love of the lake, love of writing, love of freedom), not fear (fear of poverty, fear of loneliness, fear of insignificance, fear of being eaten by a giant catfish). And, also, it would be a really douche move to take my job back at this point.
Frank and I officially began the transition from downtown dweller to lake lizards last weekend and moved most of our shit to the boat. Simultaneously, a close friend moved into our house. When we arrived home on Sunday after a mere twenty-four hours, the place was unrecognizable. It was as if we'd never lived there. It was organized. It smelled like a meadow. It was quiet...and clean. So for the month of December, we have three new roommates-the dude, his dog, and some creature that has moved into the chimney in the guest room. First, the dude…he’s fab, except that he has lots of vessels with faces. He has an ashtray with a nose, a bowl with eyes that leer at me, and a mug that looks like Phyllis Diller. Faces on inanimate objects frighten me, and yes, you would be correct to assume that I hated Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” for that very reason.The dog is adorable. The creature that has moved into the chimney is an enigma. It seems to be bigger than a raccoon, yet slightly smaller than a mountain lion. It thumped and scratched in the wall all night long. I am certain it is only a matter of time until is bursts through and eats my face. Then all of the pottery will laugh at me because they have faces and I don’t.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.