Ode to my car…

I didn’t think it was very cold… until I stood the length of time it takes to fill a tank of gas. Wind chill affected my legs; simple denim. The rest of me covered in wool and leather (because though I live in New Orleans, LA, I do adore wool. Sweaters, scarves, caps, mmm).
Thankfully, standing there with my legs experiencing the chill, if it hadn’t been for the slight chance of rain forecast for the time of day I’d be returning home I would have been on the scooter. Buck up, I would have “bucked up” of course, and handled it as I’ve proper cold weather riding gear as well (who doesn’t love “gear” when they have a  hobby?!) (IF scootering is considered a hobby; it is and it isn’t.)

Halfway home pings of sleet began tapping my windshield to the point Continue reading

…stickler is, with whom and how? I seem to prefer an unknown audience.

Yesterday I spent large amounts of my day on the popular social networks, playing.
No, I wasn’t reading people’s posts or looking at photos. I researched, so to speak. I played with my profiles, updated a photo or two, and added a post when setting up a “share” between the two I still like and a third that’s popularly used. I disconnected facebook from the others as if separating a bad child to the corner.
Today I might remedy that. (It hasn’t actually done anything wrong.) I should update, family and a few friends like to check in from time to time (seeing as how I don’t call anyone, or go out, or do anything anymore). But I don’t think I will be reconnecting it to the other time sponges/sites, this being a sort of experiment. Besides, fb had become draining. (Oh, and boring in the doing of it. Don’t say you haven’t noticed.) Seems the introvert in me has placed fb onto the oft ignored shelf of supposedly necessary social responsibilities that aren’t actually, necessary. (…No, really, think about it.)

Though I haven’t been logging on to social networking sites anymore, partly on purpose, but mostly I just don’t have an interest in sharing. …I now believe that a misjudgment, because I haven’t stopped caring about my little blog. I barely post (true) but I miss it when I don’t. My mind often forms sentences from thoughts or reactions over whatever and then a little voice interjects, “Ooh you should write that down. Witty, and you never get to have conversations like this with real people”. *ends with ever-so-slightly prodding, but polite, smirk*
So I do actually enjoy sharing. Perhaps the stickler is, with whom and how? Continue reading

Mono has a new mental stimulation, television… Her new fave: “Party at the snow hole” (that was the actual title)… She did however come outside with me for a bit, looked around for birds or squirrels then went back in to see if they were still in the television. *sigh* 

It needed more and more throttle.

I’ve come to understand the Vespa LX motorscooter is notorious for having battery issues. I say this because in my quest to locate an answer to why my new scooter has gone through 3 batteries in a year I read mass amounts of complaint from other LX owners, collected over many years of forum posts… Discovering their problem, solving their problem, etc. Though I located my answer in the charger, I do kind-of believe some of the oft-noted problem does belong to the LX itself.
Having a way to plug a battery tender in should essentially eliminate the frustration. But I’ve not had this luxury. No electrical outlet is available. It’s street parking only around here. Also, not riding at high enough rpm for long enough stretches at a time, doesn’t allow the bike to recharge the battery itself. Soo, I have to remove the battery every once in a while and take it upstairs with me to plug it in.
So for scooterists out there who are have trouble starting their scoots sometimes, Continue reading

No one wants to remove their comforts and go sit in the woods.

No one wants to remove all of their comforts and go sit in the woods pretending it’s fun. – I want to go camp on a barrier island. – I want to go camping, somewhere. – I want to sit in the woods by a fire and sleep in a tent on the ground. I would like to do this in pretty surroundings but I am becoming desperate.  Continue reading

The seat of my chair is in disrepair.

The seat of my chair is in disrepair. I am unsure how to go about re-attaching the loosening straps (webbing) that support cushioning.
Eleven months ago I managed repair in a must-needs kind of way. In desperate need to distract myself from an emotional ripping, I pulled it away from my desk and tore away old upholstery from the seat, the cracking vinyl came easily off in large strips and orange dust filled the air and fell to the floor like sand. I hadn’t known so much of the cushioning inside had disintegrated. (germane to my emotional state now that I am remembering it.)

I wonder how old this chair is… I came across it one evening sitting out on the street, abandoned to garbage pickup. It’s wooden lines simple, sleek. I think I loved it before even I finished the approach. Perhaps it is that someone just didn’t have room for it anymore, or purchased a new chair and this one matched no others in the house. Placing it out on the street surely they knew it would be adopted before the garbage collectors came in the morning. I believe that is what most of us know/hope happens anyway.
I stood looking at it, admiring, mustering the nerve to claim garbage from the street… finally I picked up the chair and brought it inside to a new home. It has been greatly used and loved ever since. I’ve forgotten how many years even.

(sigh) Now the thick cotton strapping that supports the bottom is weakening and coming loose. The lovely thing needs repair again. Real repair if I can learn to do it.
I can learn to do just about anything (I say “just about” because I haven’t tried to do everything and I don’t want to lie). Though it’s hard to learn new things, very hard sometimes. I think it is why people don’t often do it (myself included).
But I need a chair to sit in! It is a perfect height for my desk. (but mostly, and very simply, because I love it.)

The sun is out now, it was raining when I started writing. I don’t know how this makes me feel. I was enjoying the rain.
Now it is going to be just another sunny day.


It seems as if I have sat down (this reminding me that I need to fix it) and wrote about my desk chair… in so doing I have also ended up with a description of my own state of my being.
I feel like making my usual joke (Leo, ego, narcissism) how it’s all just really about me. *wink-wink*  But I don’t feel like it.
The sun is out, it is noon, why spend my time joking… I’ve got work to do and I need to learn how to do it.

——————- MONDAY, JUNE 10, 2013 —————

NOW I UNDERSTAND why I thought the chair was so attractive even from a distance as I approached! haha…
Stamped on the underneath of the frame is “PRECEDENT BY DREXEL” and “225-4 CHAIR”. Of course I Googled it…
Notable designer, Edward Wormley, in 1947 released the Precedent Collection for Drexel Furniture.
“Wormley created 100 pieces for the Precedent collection, combining the essence of modern design with tradition. His work was featured in the Good Design show at the Museum of Modern Art in 1951 and 1952.”

Now I guess as I reupholster, I will be mindful to not do a quick & easy “must-needs”  job of it this time. (It seems my chair, as myself, are sought after works of art. ahhhahahahaha)

desk chair_20130609-IMG_0001

MY POOR (Edward Wormley) CHAIR

I used read along with lyrics…

(Wednesday, May 15, 2013 – 8:40 a.m.)

I don’t much listen to music anymore.
Except from the cars driving past, or waiting all in a line from the traffic light at the end of the block. Loudest stereo wins!
Occasionally it suits my tastes. But not often.
I don’t complain.

Once, a long time ago, I worked in a record store. I knew bands, I knew artists and the trail of bands they been in before or played with occasionally or side projects and ep’s they put out under different names. I liked almost every type of music and hence, had knowledge of it.
I thought I was cool. I was.

At some point I stopped caring. I stopped listening.
I don’t miss it… so far.
(Though sometimes I feel sad, or confused perhaps, because I don’t go to it anymore for my solace or encouragement, distraction, enjoyment.)

People probably think I listen to a lot music. Stark white wires always hanging from my ears. Ipod attached to my person in some way and in some form, a natural part of my ensemble.
Last night I finished a 15 hour audio book that I’d begun only the morning before.
I’ve consumed at least 358 books in the past six years.¹

It has occurred to me, strangely only now as I have written this, a reason why I do not, miss music.(!)
While I may have stopped listening to music, I actually never gave up the words.
I used read along with lyrics as I listened to my favorite music. The words were important to me. I liked music that said something I understood, felt, could empathize with, look up to. It wasn’t just melody or sound. It was the words I loved. The story.

*sigh* hmm…

¹ That is the count and the age of my Audible.com library anyway. Evidently I joined when my pleasurable distraction was turning to addiction. I’ve no idea whether that is a lot of books as compared to the masses. I don’t care. I try to keep only few printed ones on my shelves. (I still love to hold a book, turn it’s pages.) This year I acquired a Nook ebook reader. I have, since the discovery of audio books  found encapsulating pleasure in reading along as I listen.


…drifting back and forth in the breeze.

(Tuesday, May 14, 2013 – 7:48 a.m.)

I just spent a good half hour sitting on the floor in front of an open window taking photographs of a spider web. It was difficult; spider webs are elusive.

The low, rising sun made it shimmer enough to catch my eye as I sat reading, several feet away. Had it been afternoon with the sun high, I may not have seen it drifting back and forth in the breeze. Ever-so-subtle colors from the light glimmering along its fragile lines, like looking into cut crystal. It was just a tiny spider’s web. A mighty and amazing little thing.

Perhaps we see things better from angles.

copyright 2013 a.Calloway

Irish Cream in my morning coffee…

I just put Baileys Irish Cream in my coffee. I thought you should know,
or rather… that I wanted to say.
I woke this morning with thoughts of calling in well on Monday… like in the book. (‘Even Cowgirls Get The Blues’, Tom Robbins) I smiled, as much as a person mostly still asleep and un-moving could smile. Perhaps my mind was doing the smiling for me I don’t know. … It was very pleased with itself.
Call in “well” I mean from my job that I only have until the end of the month, but still.
I don’t have another one lined up. I’m leaving 3 weeks of pay with them.
They can keep it.
Yesterday: It was difficult to get up from researching schools (that I may want to take advantage of this opportunity and go to) and get ready for work. It has become more and more difficult/depressing to make myself go to work each day now that my days are precisely numbered. I have the direction of the rest of my life I need to be figuring out! (It puts a nervous knot in my tummy but it is also, exciting.)
I decided yesterday while sitting at my desk, working and being repulsed by being in the room I was in, that tomorrow will be my last day. I emailed the HR person (the Severence-Lay off final paperwork is being prepared). I now need to say my good-bye’s to friends and tell the Creative Services Director.
My manager is the most selfish I’ve worked for. I think ever. Honest. Such a bully. (Tiny example I imagine most anyone can relate to:) Calling in sick is a chore we all (departmentally speaking) hate EVEN when we’re actually sick! This, I believe, is why my brain found “calling in well” the appropriate way to let him know I’m never coming back.
It’s the little things. *smile*
Last night I made a list of possible ways to schedule my days starting next week when I have all of the day to do with as I designate. There are so many things I want to do!
Let us hope that I do them.
I mean, I am easily distracted and lazy.
Today I put Baileys Irish Cream in my morning coffee… and then I wrote it down.

If you know me at all. That is a good sign.
(The writing it down part I mean. *wink* Doubt I’ll be trying to afford Irish Cream in my coffee every day. Ha.)