Ah, I wanted to start afresh and new for April. So here’s some more from that list of A Hundred Days of Things I Love, written back in the innocent days of 2014. I’d write something kooky and trickster god-ish today but…it seems the real world is far too darkly Loki-ward and Coyote-tinged for me to compete with. Tangerine Vader and its Twitter fetish and fetish for destroying America just to stick one to Obama. France looking to elect one of the most extreme fucktoads out there right now available for electing– Marine Le Pen. Brexit. Syria. War war war. War. Some more war. Lots of war. The Russians have seemingly managed to annex America at last. The Walking Dead is insufferably boring right now. Just have Negan, for an hour and half, beat that entire cast of suffering sufferers to death with Lucille and call it a day. End it!! Denial of science. Ugh, a list, there’s a list of ills and madness and true fuckery that no prankster can rival on his or her best day!
So yah…here’s more of that list of mine. Yeah. Uh. Mm. I left off at 31. Ah. Um. Yep.
32. Homemade cookies fresh from the oven. My grandmother watching birds through her big window. I sometimes think I can go in her falling down house, she’ll be there, watching magpies and sparrows and robins. My grandpa Jarrett and his roses– he offered them to me the day before he died, his rose plants. Staying in hotels.
33. Getting my play accepted at theatres. Enjoying an old beloved movie. [ James Garner died– 87 years old. ] Making Christmas decorations out of homemade play dough with my mother. We had them for years, cut out with cookie cutters.
34. When the two Labs, Molly and Jake, play their game of chase. Molly’s darting and dodging and her obvious egging on of Jake. Jake’s serious efforts to close with her. A stormy day after a heat wave. Cutting all my hair off, what a relief not to have to fix it. Painting rocks to make pets out of them with my grandmother– I remember one painted to look like a ladybug.
35. Scarves. My fetish with scarves. Walking with Greta, a weenie dog mix, on the beach at the Oregon Coast. Being flirted with. That first time meeting A. from Manchester, England. Finding a new word. Playing Oh Hell with my family during holidays way back when. My grandpa Wuehler slamming down the aces.
36. Cream cheese frosting on my grandmother’s carrot cake. Laughing like a loon with friends. Walking on the Great Wall of China with C. A midnight lightning storm that lights up the sky.
37. Chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate, with hazelnuts or raspberry. My trip to Joseph, Oregon. Having my own place. Being independent.
38. Writing, wanting to write. Being underwater, that great blanketed silence, the pressure of the water. Going to the Aerosmith concert in Vegas with K. You wanna hear the old shit or the new shit– Steven Tyler.
39. My friendship with K., that get in my face talk we had at M’s party that cemented us as friends. When a baby bird lives through the night. Stars shooting across the desert sky. It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown– still one of my all-time fave shows. I got a rock.
40. The simple-minded repetition of the Twilight movies…sigh. Wondering why Bella never perks up has become a consuming pastime! What if they had cast Anna Kendrick as Bella???? Anyway…it’s my heroin. I admit it here. Riding on that speedboat across the ocean by Pattaya Beach in Thailand. the spray, the bumping. the speed.
41. Hearing Trisha Yearwood in concert in Boise. Just sublime. Can’t think of anything, it’s too hot.
42. Getting letters in the mail from faraway friends. The dances at Camp Perkins. Even though none of the boys asked me to dance…
43. Driving over the Chesapeake Bay on the bridge. The smell of warm horse hide. Fishing with my mother and grandmother on the Malheur. My mother used a stick and some string. Curly, my grandmother’s Chihuahua– ROX, that means no. My grandmother would tell Curly ROX and Curly would just droop and go to her box. ROX that means no!
44. Watching Gilmore Girls for the hundredth time. Even though when Rory hooks up with Logan it makes me physically ill. Tadpoles in the ditch. Seeing the little frogs yesterday at the ponds.
45– Aug 1 That fall will be here soon, cooler nights, wind and rain, change. Israel is firing on Gaza…it’s truly terrible. There’s war everywhere. Can’t find many happy thoughts these days.
46. skipped
47. Went to Sumpter [day trip up to the Blues in Eastern Oregon]
48– Aug. 4th. Thankful that my computer recovered my novel!! Goddamn fucking computer in the first fucking place. So hot last night!! Fucking humidity!! Downpour in Ontario, but not here. Ugh.
49. When my mother called my aunt Fucky June. The lilies still growing by the forsythia. My mother planted them. My traveling dreams– all my dreams lately are about traveling.
50. My two tattoos. Finding a thunderegg yesterday at the ponds. The sassy robin daring to find food in the lawn despite four dogs and me, that same robin helping itself to a drink in the dog pool. At Midnight for making me laugh every time I watch it.
51. Jon Stewart and his crack writing team. Trouble’s soft white coat and his sweet submissive nature. The big hawk flying low this morning looking for breakfast. The bloody sun rising like a baleful eye in the east this morning. Tea Party candidates LOSING ALL OVER THE PLACE. Thank you, Jesus, Allah, the devil, whoever is responsible for sending some wake up calls to voters. [Oh…oh, reading this I just get the shivers. I’m sitting here rereading this entry and getting shivers at how voters didn’t wake up at all…]
52. Raspberry cheesecake. Clean sheets. A swift violent rainstorm after weeks of no rain at all. Performing with J. in Toad and Frog. [I’m also a troll over on Yahoo Answers and in case anyone actually reads this, I won’t, yet, reveal that one. Yay!]
53. skipped
54. Climb Every Mountain from SOM movie– the Rev. Mother, what a voice. Cheese. Hearing from a friend after a long time.
55. Monday–Police shoot and kill unarmed black boy in Ferguson, Missouri, protests, riots. My mother’s lilies are blooming. Beth Hart and her music.
56. Robin Williams committed suicide yesterday. I, too, am probably headed that way, frankly. There’s a big storm coming in. Heard a coyote this morning– I do love their weird eerie calls.
57. When I finish a play. Ferguson protests getting ugly. Massive police presence, more like a war zone than anything else. Mike Brown was shot and killed and people began protesting this, some looting but mostly peaceful protesting of police brutality toward the community, which is largely black. Lauren Bacall died day after Robin Williams. What an awful week so far…
58. Stormy cooler days in summer months. Cary Grant comedies– Arsenic and Old Lace, Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, Bringing Up Baby. A mountain lake dyed the exact shade as the sky at twilight. Seeing antelope in a field.
59. skipped
60. skipped
61. So fucking hot last night. Pulled my calf muscle. Covered in big bites. I just fucking can’t think of anything I love at this moment.
Oh dear, gentle readers, what a note to end on…
It’s lovely today here, though. Looks like an actual calm spring morning. The local rivers are all flooding, the Snake, the Payette, the Weiser, the Boise, the Owyhee, the Malheur. Uh…there’s sunshine and coffee. There. Positive spin! Part three coming soon to a blog near you.
ANN WUEHLER 