It's Real

Autumn

Learning to Fly

Oak Tree - February 26, 2012

Today's NaBloPoMo prompt is "Would you rather have invisibility or the ability to fly?"

I don't even have to think about it. I'm all about flying.

Invisibility seems like a tool for skulking about, for going places you're not meant to go, seeing things you're not meant to see, hearing things that aren't for your ears. "You'd get to hear what people were saying about you!" What a nightmare. "You could go anywhere you wanted!" Like a ghost? Everything going on around me and I'm just an observer, can't be a part of it? Nobody can share it with me, because they don't know I'm there? I would be so lonely. I can't think of a single instance where I'd want to be invisible.

But I've always wanted to fly. I love airplanes, love looking out the window at the ground below. I try to figure out where I am by studying the geologic features. I'm always thrilled when I find something familiar. I don't even care where I land as long as I get to go up in the air, and I'm always a little sad when the wheels touch down.

I never have dreams where I'm flying, just dreams where I glide a few inches above the ground. I don't know if that means I'd be afraid of going higher, or if I'm simply content to skate along a foot above the sidewalk. I'm usually walking next to someone, having a pleasant conversation while moving my feet back and forth as if I were dangling them in a swimming pool. I always wake up happy from those dreams.

Ween's Dahlias

Acorn

Confession time.

I lost all interest in talking about myself for a while, and as a result I lost all interest in blogging. I then grew depressed over my lack of creative motivation, which pushed me even further away from here. I didn't do any of the ambitiously planned things that I said I was going to do while I was unemployed. It was not all that I thought it would be.

Just at the point where I thought I was going to lose my mind, vacuuming the house three times a day and spending an entire week not needing to put on shoes because I didn't stray beyond the edge of my property, I got a new job. Good news, yes, but not so good for blogging. My new job is more restrictive than my old one when it comes to the Internet, and I've kind of been enjoying actually working when I'm at work.


I have been knitting, but I haven't been all that great about writing about it. I finished Forestry more than a month ago, and I took some not-so-great pictures of it, but I forgot to write down what size needles I used. I started on one of my oldest projects in the bin, and I'm about halfway through the chest/back/arms. I swatched some silk last night. It's good. I'm just not writing much about it.

In short, this isn't a 'give up' post. It's also not a 'catch up' post. I may never go back and write about the mods I made to Forestry or the sweater I'm making now. If someone were to ask me about either of them, which is improbable since I've done an even worse job of keeping up over at Ravelry, I'd try to come up with more information. Otherwise, it's a done deal.

What does that mean for "Knitting for the Large-Headed Gal"? I hesitate to call this a relaunch, because then I'd feel compelled to keep up, and I don't write well under that kind of pressure. It's why I took a job nearly identical to my last one instead of running off to become a writer. For me, writing is like being in a pen with a silverback gorilla. I have to look askance at it while picking at the grass in front of me, never staring at it head-on.

It's an acorn year for the oak tree in my front yard. A pair of doves built a nest above my deck last week. It's almost the end of summer, but things continue to make a go of their fresh starts.

Let's move forward from here.

The Strange Public Lives of Birds, Part 2

Remember when there were only two of them?

Our office park has been overrun by turkeys. We stood in my soon-to-not-be-my-boss's office and counted them. Thirty-five birds had gathered on the patch of grass outside his window. They'd been out in the parking lot a few minutes earlier, a couple of the hens perched on the roof of a minivan, most of them wandering around the cars.


Of course, this meant that everyone in the building with a camera had to come out and take a picture, so then we had two flocks circling the parking lot, one flock of turkeys and one flock of people holding their cameras at arm's length to try to get the closest shot possible of a puffed-out tom.


The turkeys made a long circle through the parking lot and came back to the shaded grass. This might have seemed like a smart strategic move, because very few of us had cameras equipped to shoot in that light, so they'd found a way to be left alone. Then again, they're turkeys. I don't think they're capable of strategic thinking. Yes, I know, noble creature being underestimated by the arrogant humans and we don't understand animal intelligence and they probably evolved from dinosaurs so they've been around a lot longer than we have and blah blah blah, alright? Nothing against the turkeys, but it's not like they're going to form a war college or anything.


As evidence, I present this picture. This is what happens when turkeys turn and take flight and they don't see the five-story building in their path. This, friends, is turkey snot on a window.

"It literally smacked the snot out of itself. Why did Ben Franklin think that this should be our national bird?"

"Well, he (Franklin) was kind of heavy. Maybe he liked them because they were the only birds he could catch."


In other news, here's yesterday's progress on Ingenue. I'm halfway done with the increase section. It's not coming along as fast as KnottyGnome's, but it is coming along. I love the colors of hers. I wish I had more green in my stash.