I wrote a thing that was 1500 words and then I cut it down to 1000. 

My head is splitting. 

some of what I wrote depended on knowledge that I gleaned from this thing about hypertextual thinking. 

ow. 

I have no one to blame but myself. 

We all know that a) a person doesn't just get over being depressed, and b) a person can't stop mourning like flipping a switch. 

But, I'm hurting enough right now that I'm willing to try some strategies. I want to be the strong person that I need. Today I did a couple of things; wrote two thank-you emails, unloaded the dishwasher, put away some stuff. 

We're still mourning Bebe really hard. It feels like we're etherized, exhausted, wearing a hot, wet blanket. 

if you could do something for a depressed person, what would it be? I'll try it. (Non-pharmaceutical  ideas please. We're already taking prescribed meds.) 

Meanwhile, I've taken some melatonin (to shut my brain off) and I'm going to listen to mah storiez.  I've got The Girl On The Train, Disgraced, and The Alchemist. 

Thank you. 

OH. In hilarious news, I was accepted to a weekend-long artists' colony, which will only cost me a grand to attend, not including travel. 

When Archer was born, Jason gave me a necklace with a peridot in it (Archer's birthstone) and five tiny diamonds.  Before Hunter was born, I told Houser that I wanted him to take that necklace and combine it with a blue topaz, which was going to be Hunter's birthstone, because I never wanted to have to choose which necklace to wear.

Houser went to Beardsley and presented him with the original necklace and his new design.  He drew a front view and a side view, which Beardsley really appreciated because people design jewelry in their heads all the time, but rarely do they render it on paper with dimensions/proportions.  Both Beardsley and Houser actually went to the same art school, but not at the same time.

There are many styles of birthstone necklaces, a lot of them look like this:

Sorry for the image-heavy post, but for those who have not seen the typical stuff, I wanted to contrast it with my necklace, which is exactly what I wanted and one of my favorite pieces of jewelry.  This is it:

It looks better in person, but photographing jewelry is haaaard.

Hunter calls it "the me and Archer necklace".  

Anyway, I have no engagement ring, my wedding ring is pretty plain (by design, I always bang my hands into things and I wanted a ring I couldn't wreck) - this is the piece of jewelry that represents my marriage and my family more than any other.  I am very happy with it.

So I did this today. And then rode twelve miles home via Lindbergh Boulevard, for a total of 26 miles.

I didn't realize I'd covered so much ground until I recognized buildings on the outskirts of the airport.

The Heinz Wildlife Refuge (aka the Tinicum Wildlife Refuge) has many miles of hard-packed gravel trails in decent condition for cycling, even with cheap-hybrid-bike tires.

I was trying to follow the East Coast Greenway. There's lots of signage for it now, but you still get dropped off the face of the earth sometimes. I kept finding it though.

I want to pedal to my mom's house in Connecticut in the worst way. It's smack on the Greenway.

I don't have to take off work! I can just get up at 6am, pedal until it's too hot, and hide out in an AirBnB somewhere! We all need practice with remote working anyway. That's totally practical right? Hey it actually might be.

Yesterday is going to be one of those days I remember when I am old as one of those perfect family days where everyone was happy and silly and playful and we made my stoic dad get choked up a few times as we celebrated his 75th birthday and Mom wasn't hurting and we all ate perfect steaks that Matt brought and Dell was feeling good and not a single jab was thrown (but not because we were trying to be on good behavior, but because it never occurred to anyone to say something cruddy) and the weather was perfect and we played catch outside (or watched people play catch outside) until we all came inside and the kids were all at that age where they were up for anything and nothing was too dorky to do. We flung Snapple caps, we talked about important things and not-important things and hugged a lot. I wish I was back up there right now.  

I never want to forget yesterday.

(x-posted to xtingu.livejournal.com)

My favorite, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead is running NOW at The Wilma Theater. I must go. Anyone else?

It's like Hamlet++

It's like Waitng for Godot to  poison Gerturde.

It's like Our Town (is Elsinore).

Don't let me miss it!

Here are some questions for you good people:

Do athiests have a "belief?" Or is atheism a lack of belief? Is it a leap of faith to believe there are no gods, or are athiests standing firmly on the ground by disbelieving in all gods?

In a few other words: is athiesm science, religion, philosophy, or a combination thereof? And - this one's for those who consider themselves atheists - does it matter? Is the difference between "I believe there are no gods" and "I disbelieve in all gods" important?

I have an opinion, but I'm much more interested in yours. Besides, who the hell am I to say? I think Ewoks are awesome and Tyler, the Creator is the best thing to happen to music since Smear joined the Foos for good. So maybe I'm not the best one to judge.
​

                                                             Yep. This guy.

So there you have it! Fire away. You're welcome to bring your own belief system into the discussion, but it isn't necessary. Politeness and respect is, though, but y'all knew that already.

Thanks! And if I accidentally earwormed you with George Michael, well...you're welcome. 

Yesterday I brought a group of people to the Musem of Modern Art in New York City. Due to minor mishaps I had two extra tickets.

This is not a huge deal and I immediately considered just writing them both off as donations, it's a worthy cause after all. But we did decide to try offering them to folks in the ticket line, for something less than original price. Waste not, want not. Habits of a lifetime.

Nobody was interested. As someone in our group pointed out, this could be because they didn't know if I was honest, and that's a good point, although it's also easily solved: come with me when I go through the entrance; see if you get in or not; pay me then.

But what stopped me from even suggesting that was the looks people gave me. They weren't doubting looks. They were incredulous, snooty, dismissive looks.

You speak of MONEY, sir? You disturb the AESTHETIC of this LOBBY? How GAUCHE! This is an ART MUSEUM!

These are the same people who probably wrote poignant tweets when they encountered the Minimum Wage Machine, a performance piece in which anyone can turn a crank to produce a trickle of coins, which is exciting until you realize they are being disbursed at the rate of $8 per hour and gradually become depressed by the knowledge of how little that is.

Screw those people and their faux concern for the truly poor and their open disdain for the middle class. I'm glad I made them see me and my Target clothes and my perfectly good extra tickets.

(Yes, I'm sure I'm misjudging somebody in that line, but they'll live. Very well.)

Going to our cousins' for dinner. I got stuff to make kale-cabbage salad with pomegranate-blueberry dressing, and August: Osage County. 

I find it amusing that Julia Roberts has gone from "drink y'juice Shelby," to "EAT THE FISH, MA." 

What would happen if I just went to bed early right now? 

What would happen to the 9 zillion ideas zooming around in my head? 

What if I listened to my body and recharged my batteries? 

Will I still have the ideas in the morning? ​