Just Another Day In Small Town, USA

Yesterday afternoon. I'm sweating it out to a P90-X video. The doorbell rings. 

[As I general rule, my hackles go up when the doorbell rings. I don't know why. Maybe it's an instinctive "fight or flight" response or perhaps I've conditioned myself to respond with my, "I wasn't expecting a guest therefore it's a mass murderer" reaction. Anywhoo...]

A large portion of our front door is glass, so I peeked my head around the corner. I didn't see anyone standing there so I assumed the UPS guy had dropped something off. I went back to Tony Horton and my video. 

♫ Ding-Dong. ♫

Huh. Not the UPS guy. I peek again and see the shadow of a man waiting patiently by the door. I resolve to go shoo the mass murderer away. 

I open the door and am surprised to find David standing there. David is a brilliant writer/photographer in our area, an older gentleman who I probably run into once every six months, at which times we'll chat for maybe 5-10 minutes, max.

"Hey Dena," he said, as if we'd just met yesterday. He pulled out a pen and small notebook. "What did you tell me was the name of your web designer?"

I vaguely remembered discussing my website with David the last time we'd met. Six months ago. 

"Oh, uh, Melody Watson," I said. "At melodywatson.com."

"Mel-ohh-dee" he said, writing it down. "Got it." He turned to go, then seemed to realize the situation maybe called for a bit more. "You doin' okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah, great," I said. "Just exercising, getting ready for a big race. You?"

"Doing good, doing good. Well, nice seeing you." 

And with that, he turned and walked down the porch steps and was gone. 

Later that night I described the encounter to Blair, who laughed and said, "That's classic Madison."

Yes, it is. And a great reminder of why I love living in this quirky little town. 

Dressed for... Well, just DRESSED

Today I had the option of hanging out all day in pajamas, workout clothes or (my personal preference) a combination of the two. Lots of work to do, but nothing that required me leaving the house. I'd worked out, showered, and stood with dripping hair, pondering whether it was really worth it to blow dry and apply mascara when my chances of conversing with my cats was much stronger than chatting with a human being face-to-face. 

At this stage in my freelance career, I know better. I did full hair and makeup and grabbed the last bit of life from some dressy white pants before the Labor Day ban on white begins. Why all the bother? Because I had a busy day. Huzzah for freelancers who can work from bed. I'm not one of them. If I want to get anything accomplished, I'm much better off if I dress the part of a professional. I'm more likely to make phone calls, tackle to-do lists, and be flexible with my day. 

 And as it turns out, I did leave the house today to run to the bank, drugstore, and to meet my egg dealer for a drop. Nothing earth shattering, but if I'd had no makeup, frizzy hair, and pj bottoms, I would have put all the errands off, making some day in the future busier than it needs to be. 

I've also charged through today's work. Looking professional (well okay, I'm a writer so looking semi-professional with a little bit of artsy leeway thrown in) means I act more professional with my time. 

Anyone else experience this? Or has everyone except me mastered the art of working in t-shirts and fuzzy slippers?

Cheers,

Dena

Time to Share In the Harvest

As loyal blog readers may remember, Blair and I (read:Blair) put in quite the effort this spring to establish a square foot garden. Now that I'm fully on the healthy eating bandwagon and have a nodding acquaintance with the big shiny stainless steel thingee in my kitchen that gets hot if you turn the dials, we were all about growing our own food. Money smart, healthy, and very liberal-chic. Sign us up. 

And we've done it! I shared earlier this year our first perfect, beautiful squash. Now I share with you what three months of sporadic watering have gained us:

Yes, that's it. The squash, the carrot, and the rutabaga are what we have to show. 

You might think we'd be depressed, but you'd be wrong. We're thrilled. This is three times the amount of food we've ever managed to grow in the past. Smokin' success. 

Now that we've got the hang of this farming thing, I can't wait to see what Farmer Blair brings in next year. 

p.s. If you need carrots, let us know. I want to share in the bounty of our harvest. 

How to Evaluate Fine Art

A couple of months ago when I visited my cousin in Ohio, I came home with cat art--one drawing done in three different colors. I thought the three pictures would look cute in my workspace but turns out there is a thing as too much cat stuff in any one room. Who knew? The upshot being the pictures needed to find a new home. 

Naturally, we left them sitting in our in-box, hoping they would miraculously hang themselves. When that didn't work out for us, I took charge this past Sunday and decreed it "Find A Home for the Cat Pictures Day." 

We walked all over the house, holding the pictures up to various walls and getting progressively more angry at one another as we continued to reject each other's wall choices. Finally, we found ourselves in the rear hallway, me holding up the pictures against the wall over where we keep the litter box. The litter box (and wall) in turn are directly across the hall from our guest bathroom. So as Bath on right, wall on left with picture frame just barely visibleyou exit the bathroom, you are directly facing the wall. 

"See? It's kind of funny," I said. "Cat pictures... litter box..." 

"I'm not sure," said Blair. He walked into the bathroom and stood in the doorway, his back to me. "Okay, I'm in here, I've finished peeing, I'm coming out--" He spun around and stared at the pictures. 

"You are a freak," I said, laughing. Then I thought about it. "Here, you hold these up and let me try it." 

So we took turns pretending to exit the bath, deciding whether orWall of fine art not we wanted to see balancing cats upon exiting. We decided yes, we do. The cat pictures now hang there, happy in their new home. 

If any of you need help evaluating your fine art and where to hang it, Blair and I are available for consultation.

Cheers!