Countdown: 35, 20, 15 and 1

First, don’t freak out.

Second, you know it’s coming, so we might as well count it down together.

35 days away. Seems like plenty to prepare for a train wreck, if you were expecting one.

I’m not wholly sure if you should be expecting one or not. I don’t know if I should be, either.

I’ve set aside 14 days. Just in case.

I’ve also put myself out there – every day – since that day someone I didn’t know said something that changed everything.

Followed by that day, I thought I was safely anonymous amongst 66K people; letting out what I’d learned on that something someone said day on inspirational site.

Trent Shelton. Remember when I suggested y’all follow him?

Well, no one told me they did. So, I found out the hard way that I hadn’t been honest with the universe as stealthily as I imagined. That night I wrote to no one but myself. That morning I found out my words had been seen.

Notification: 2 likes.

?

Clicked out of curiosity; hoping to find a kindred discussionist or two, only to nauseously realize I’d inadvertently let my private cat out the bag.

Those two likes? My brother and my brother-in-law. Cowardly non-addressed, at least, until now.

Since then, though. Since October 2020, there’s been this reoccurring theme. Everywhere I turn.

Books I’ve read, motivational quotes, inspirational stories, sermons I’ve heard, songs I’ve taken to, have all been telling me the same thing:

“You’re not the one who died.”

Obviously, I’ve been well aware of that. What I haven’t been aware of is… anything else.

It’s entirely mind boggling. 35 days until 15 not 20. 20 is the sun eclipsed by the 15 moon, because. My God. 15?

It’s going to be a bit of a non-chronological heap. I’m almost out of time, but I wanna get the good stuff in or get it out or just share it dammit.

.

One request: If you’ve got a JSK story, share it on Knabble. Or email it to me.

I’ll get it out there for you. For us; for all of us.

Selfish, is it?

I’m not 100% a silver-lining gal, but, in my book, there were a few good things to come out of last year.

One huge plus: Music makers making music.

I’ve been keeping some melodies to myself. Selfishly.

I think. At least that’s how I kinda feel about my hoarding/delayed sharing.

Sort of. Anyway. I’ve been digesting daily, ruminating repeatedly.

This here’s just the first of those COVID+’s I’m letting go, now. Because it’s a lot newer, and timeliness may matter.

May 28th, to be exact. Took a little longer to get to me; across the ocean.

Monday, May 31st at 13:05, to be exact. Through DHL, happily, and not some other hack-way delivery service that likes to leave packages places other than my front door or porch. (Yep, off track.)

Speaking of off-track, one of my favorite total freak-out fan-based things is B-sides and outtakes and the ‘what might have been’ of songs: mining the creative process and good humor.

Actually, there’s no mining when it’s handed to you on a silver-platter, or in this case, on a pink CD.

And, tempting packages for pre-order. (Dec 2020.) Bundles of every conceivable which-way, of which I chose:

CD: Fatal Mistakes

CD: Outtakes and B sides

Autographed insert (fan-girly, but it’ll look lovely in my office line-up.)

T-shirt. I probably didn’t need the t-shirt. Well, to be honest, I completely didn’t.

Don’t worry about my overstock. I’ll take advantage of the situation by off-loading one, holey, faded, stained monstrosity that I would never wear in public. Not even to the trash bin.

The kind of thing I’d only ever wear to cautionlessly paint or forcibly succumb to gardening pressures (if I had to.)

Hmm. Maybe I’ll keep that old one as a designated, doing messy, things shirt. Because I abs won’t mess in my new one.

Ok.

If you’ve been trooping along with the band’s progress posts, you’ll have seen a few videos, heard a few previews of the floaty-sounds radio airplay will make, for sure.

If ya, haven’t been following, it’s not too late. The moral of the music is that you can go back and do it again – 20 years later. Successfully, wonderfully. Barry, bonnie, lovely. Platinum worthy.

Quote for the Week:

  1. Current Fav Track: It’s Feelings
  2. Next, Start here: You Can’t Go Back
  3. Then, Go Back here:  Roll to Me

(Or vice-versa (3, 2) if you adventurously need an introduction to humor and the band.)

yesterday’s rain

I walked home in the rain, yesterday.

It wasn’t a deluge. I didn’t try to catch it in a paper cup. It was necessary.

I keep a huge Kohl’s plastic bag in my work tote for occasions like this. When the weatherman gets it wrong. I carry a ball cap, too, even with the lack of thick hair to keep it on when the wind picks up. I really don’t care if my head gets wet, but I’ve noticed that hair actually does a pretty good job of keeping the water from running down your face. So, capping it is.  

I’m sure I look a looney in my get up. I wear my go-to bonnet underneath my raincoat hood. My pea-head doesn’t hold up to the assumption that if you wear a larger size, your head must be larger-than-normal, too. Here’s the descript: Without the head help, looking straight ahead, I can only see from my nose down.

The sleeves are also about 2 inches too long. Helpfully, they keep at least one hand from cold-water pruning. The other one hoists my baggage. I likely drag along too much stuff for my two-days-per-week journey.

In my defense, I might want or need: phone charger, ear phones, sanitizer, chap stick, face powder that I could probably leave home since I have not used it in over a year. Also, coupons, reference paperwork, tissues, plastic bags, ball cap and a handkerchief. Paperclips, two pens, in case one does not work. Plus, the regular house keys, office keys, lunch box, water bottle, phone and masks. Yes, plural.

Anyway, yesterday. On my way out of my windowless work space, I hadn’t assessed the situation. Which led to having to assemble myself in the see-through vestibule. Bright pink, nylon-raincoat flap engaged, faded bluish bill sticking out, primed me for the silly-looking 5-minute trek home began.

That’s when I started thinking.

When was the last time I walked in the rain on-purpose? I knew it might rain today. Walking was a risk; a logic-balanced choice, though. Michigan Construction Season is in full-swing. It would take me 15-20 minutes to drive the alternate ‘detour’ route.

Two years ago, I regularly walked in the evening and on weekends. Walked the long way to work, 4-5 times a week. Checking my photos, it looks like my last deliberate rain-tread was a weekend morning. May 2019. Based on my shots, I’m sure it wasn’t a hard rain. Not likely was a drizzle, either. I remember making the choice to go.

I took a lot of rain-brightened pictures of flowers and leaves. Overcast skies and water make nature’s colors pop. I enjoyed the way the misty air kissed my skin.

Maybe it’s time to stop the basement cycle. I don’t take any photos down there on my perpetually-circular treadmill trips.

I’m kinda wishing for a wet morning this weekend. Just so I can conquer the walk, for the first time this year.

And ramble some. And take some cheery rain-soaked photos.

Question for the Week:

The Jesus and Mary Chain Happy When it Rains

Aaron Neville Can’t Stop My Heart From Loving You (The Rain Song)

Rihanna Umbrella

Frustrative License

I cannot be concise.

I try. Truly.

In fact, today, I sent out a brief (very brief), 223-word, 2 paragraph “caption.”

Details tell the truest story.

Seriously. I went to the store for milk.

vs.

I drove Granny’s beat-up powder-blue Buick to the corner market for milk to go with the Happy 99th Year birthday cake we ordered – in the shape of her car, including rust! The baker just had to have a photo!

Ok, well, anyway…

As usual. It’s all about how you look at it.

And how many layers you have to scrape through to find simplicity.

And the fact that you don’t know the strata sequence.

Or how many vision changes it took to finally finish.

Medium manipulation: words, paint, notes.

Stories, images and sound: Art.  

Ironically concise.

.

Quote for the Week:

Read Reduction

Used to be I had a reading pile. A to-be-read stack of whole magazines or just torn pages, books I picked up for free, printed online articles I didn’t have time to sit down and devote to immediately and knew I’d never find them again. Links can die, you know. Especially after a few years.

Well, I stopped all that physical periodical hoarding. Inspired by an accidental find years ago. 2014; while perusing positive topics for what used to be an email and US Mail based Midweek Encouragement Newsletter. ME News existed in an era otherwise known as ‘pre-blog.’

In the basest form of self-trickery for knowledge seekers, I canceled nearly all of the clutter subscriptions that lead to clutter. Nearly.

Costco and AAA send me monthly periodicals whether I want them or not. I subscribe to the Ann Arbor Observer monthly rag. I could stop them simply, but then, how would I know where all the good stuff is happening in Michigan, or discover why a certain product is better than another? Without endless key-word internet surfing for hours, I mean.

Plus, I’d also lose out on letters and phrases. Grade school, I’ve always loved collage. Went through an interesting and a bit obsessive, huge, collage cut-and-paste phase in college. Began as sorority-sister aimed birthday cards on budget. Ala kindergartener-ish: find a pretty picture, add some happy, descriptive 1500 level words and voila!

I also went through a band-love phase where I would use every print version of the band name I could find and pauperize it into wall hanging. I had a double 8”x14” pair-themed set of Duran Duran fonts proudly displayed in my first dorm room. Hmm. Who am I kidding?

So, maybe both of those things weren’t phases. I’m obviously still in a band-loving stage. And, I still cut out words and phrases. Anyway, the point is, now even just those three founts of info tend to heap on my coffee table. Not a real problem. I break them down, take what I need as I read through, recycle the bulk and end up with smaller piles.

My digital stash is overwhelming, though. I leave large articles unread until I have the time. I gold-star articles that may be of use in the future. I subscribe to a few special interest daily/weekly emails for things I am truly interested in. I’d really like to engage with these lurking lessons. I’m really a little stressed out that I will never catch up and, yet, I continue to pull and hold.

826, 180, 11, 109 emails awaiting my attention. Some are new. About 600 are marked for future, do not delete articles, updates, initiatives. Surprisingly the 826 is not my junk box. It also dates from 2010 forward. Pictures, scratch writing, thoughts – these aren’t a concern to me. I’ll get to them. When? Well, when I do.

There’s def a need to tackle. Do I start with one source and read straight through? Oldest to newest in unrelated order? Sort and scour by topic? By informative value or creative enjoyment? Ugh.

This all sounds way too much like a lot of pre-work to manage my actual desire.

The Minimalists, Podcast 286: Enoughism