The Big Green House

Goodnight, Sir

It is my sad duty to report that we had to have Martin put down this weekend. He'd just gotten to the point where he couldn't get around anymore, and was obviously Not Well At All.

I've been trying to write up a proper eulogy for him. It's been difficult. It wasn't a surprise that his time had come, but it's still proving difficult to process.

Anyway, if you're so inclined, please raise a glass to a good cat gone. Play some jazz when you do so; he liked jazz. Sonny Rollins, Miles... no free jazz, though. He disapproved of that.

This is Radio Nowhere - is there anybody alive out there?

I think I said something about updating more often a while back, didn’t I? See, the thing is, I think about writing every day. When it comes down to it, though, there’s really nothing I want to write about. Music is dire – a point which I’ve pretty well beaten into the ground by now. I don’t do politics well. I can’t remember the last novel I read. My personal life is of no interest to anyone other than Science Girl or myself, and we already know what’s going on. We have been doing a lot of hiking lately; I suppose I could write about that, but the few people who bother to check in here with any sort of regularity don’t live anywhere near Washington, for the most part, so I don’t know how much use that would be.

All of which is to say that I am at loose ends with regards to The Big Green House. I don’t necessarily want to hang it up. Certainly not to the point of taking it off-line, anyway. I suspect that at some point I’ll want to pick it back up again – maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, or maybe a long, long time from now. I just don’t have any plans, of any sort, at the moment. I would like to be writing, but I’m not gonna just jabber on for the sake of it.

We're desperate - get used to it

Y'know, the older I get, the more sense punk rock makes.

Possibly more later.

I hate summer

Hey there.

I’m completely uninspired. I am bored stupid with myself, and consequently am utterly out of sorts. Also not sleeping worth a damn.

So. No updates. As soon as I have something to say, I’ll say it.

We regret any confusion this error may have caused

A correction: when I stated that the Bush House was “set up more on the lines of a mid-century motel more than anything else”, I was thinking the addition had been made sometime in the early 40’s or so. Science Girl disagreed. Vehemently so. And, being Science Girl, she did some research. She came up with this photo, which clearly shows that the addition had been made by 1910 -11, at least. I stand corrected.

Also, it appears that the building has been standing empty since 2002, when it was shut down for “repairs and remodeling”. My best guess is that it acquired some damage in the Nisqually earthquake. I don’t know the extent, but apparently it was enough to keep the place closed until now. Not a good sign, really. I hope someone with some deep pockets buys it and starts the renovation soon; the longer the building sits, the worse it’s going to get.

And now we’re up to date. I’m back at work, feeling the screws tightening again. It’s almost like we never left town. Blechh.

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE!

Here’s what we did this weekend:

Also, I’ve got a couple of new pieces up at TATSOL. Go check ‘em out.

Rode hard, put up wet

I’m feeling about a thousand percent better this week, so we might even see a little content generation around here. Stranger things have happened at sea, y’know.

Last week was just misery. Those of you who’ve been around TBGH for awhile are familiar with my ongoing insomnia. Long story short, I’m a morning person stuck in a night job. I’ve gotten so that I can get by on seven hours of sleep. I don’t like it, but I can do it. What was killing me last week was my reaction to the fluticasone; I’d get up feeling fairly OK, if a little tired, take my morning snort of meds, and within a half an hour I felt as if I hadn’t slept in about a week. Just completely drained of energy.

I had my annual check-up on Tuesday (turns out my prostate is right where it’s supposed to be), and I mentioned it to the doctor then. He said that it shouldn’t affect me that way, but to keep an eye on it. Well, by Thursday I was… if not suicidal, then not really in very good shape, let’s say. I called the doctor’s office, explained the situation, and got a new prescription. It’s not quite as effective in quieting my cough, I will say that. It works well enough, though, and I no longer feel like my head is gonna burst into flame if I have to make a life-or-death decision, like what I want for lunch. So that’s a bonus right there.

Also, apparently I’m a little vitamin B12 deficient. Nothing out of control, but it does need to be addressed. I began taking a supplement today, chalky little lumps of “cherry-flavored” nasty I’m supposed to stick under my tongue every day. Yay. Also, since alcohol interferes with the uptake of the vitamin, I’m gonna try drying out for awhile. Not that I’m some hand-over-fist boozer, mind you, but I am fond of a beverage or three after work. Well, that’s off the menu now, at least on weeknights. This will only be a good thing, of course, but old habits die hard. I am a little concerned that it might make falling asleep that much harder, but we’ll see what happens.

Piñata Boy

Why you’re not seeing anything new here: because frankly, I feel like I’ve been beaten with a large stick. Lack of quality sleep is draining my will to live, and my will to write along with it.

OK, that’s a little overly dramatic, but I’m really not at the top of my game these days. It’s really hard to think in any sort of useful way, which makes writing an even bigger exercise in futility than usual. As much as I hate this kind of placeholder post, I feel like I owe the two of you who bother to check in on me here an explanation.

Sombre Reptiles

I have developed a truly unpleasant braying cough that frightens the animals. My doctor says it’s due to post-nasal drip, which is surely one of the most unappealingly-named non-fatal maladies available. Whatever it is, it sucks. At the flower show this weekend, I was driven to my knees by one of the booths selling lilies. Hundreds of them. I felt like I was coughing up a lung. On a good day lilies only make me want to puke, which would have been a day at the fun fair by comparison.

So now I’m taking new meds. It’s supposed to take a couple of days before they really kick in. They’re sorta helping now; I’m down to half a bag of Ricola a day now, so I guess that’s an improvement. I still feel worn out all the time, and I’m crabby and cranky and oh so very easily irritated. That’s why I haven’t been posting – to spare y’all my puny bitchfests. You’re welcome.

*sigh*

I’ve been listening to Robert Fripp lately, his own work and things he produced. That and Brian Eno, which of course includes Fripp on guitar from time to time. (No Fripp & Eno – I’m not fond of ambient music. To me, ambient = entropy, which is not something to be encouraged. I could be wrong. Also, I’m sorta surprised to find that No Pussyfooting is out of print these days. That was supposed to be their defining album, wasn’t it?)

It’s interesting to see how much of Eno’s approach to recording – which was so far out in left field at the time that it was in another ballpark, on another continent, playing a completely different game altogether – have become commonplace now. Also worthy of note: Fripp’s first solo album, Exposure, now sounds like a trial run for some ideas and riffs that ended up on King Crimson’s Discipline album.

Lastly, I have been told that, at times, I look a bit like Fripp – usually when I’ve cut my hair quite short. I’d need to get some of those lovely round specs to pull it off, really, but I can see something of a resemblance. For whatever that might be worth.

What if we put iceplant in the crease?

Breaking News Update: I take a look at Trees over at TATSOL and see, if not a forest, then a pretty good album.

Ha! I slay myself!

So, we didn’t make it to the hockey game on Sunday. Neither of us was feeling particularly spunky.

This weekend it’s the Flower and Garden Show, which, honestly, is more Science Girl’s gig than mine. Just as the hockey thing is more my deal than hers. Valentine’s Day relationship tip: it’s just this sort of give and take that keeps our happy little home buzzing along like a beehive in summer. You can quote me on that. (If you do, though, try to make me sound smarter, OK?) And, y’know, there’s still another month left to the schedule, so maybe we can still squeeze in a game…