Art of the Odd

I’m sitting in a Prius, at a Chevron outside Vegas, under a sign that reads “Terrible Resort and Casino,” and blogging on NovySan’s phone.

We’ve come 250-odd miles, and seen two possibly/probably fatal wrecks on clear, dry roads. Doesn’t scare me, though - so long as we keep paying attention.

I understand the 4/4. The 2/4 as well. These are the rhythms of the heart, the rhythms of a human walk, the rhythms of water dripping from the sky. 3/4? More exotic, yes, but it’s a gallop, the rhythm of a horse in motion. A 9/8, though? Where did that come from? How did that extra beat find its way in, and why do I like it so much? And how long is it going to take to master it?

1-2-3-4-5-6-789… 1-2-3-4-5-6-789… 1-3-5-789…1-3-5-789… 123-123-123-1-1-1…

When I realized I’d forgotten to do a post today.

NovySan and I went to Trader Joe’s and loaded up on road snacks this afternoon. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up the rental car, pack and put everything by the front door, ready to go Tuesday morning. (The snacks are already there, and we’ve done all our laundry — and put it away!) Then, Tuesday after work, off we go to Wyoming for Thanksgiving. Mom’s made cornbread for stuffing (and then she and the family ate it all, so now she has to make more), and they’ve bought the turkey. We’re bringing whiskey and the aforementioned snacks.

Now if only the weather will hold…

(Edited to add: I just commented to NovySan that this is a very boring post. He suggested I mention that I’m still blogging naked. While I’m at it, I’ll mention that I did blog clothed yesterday, thus proving that I have not yet forgotten how.)

Someone who wants to sell me both nursing and travel services likes my blog… (I do enjoy browsing the spam file occasionally.)

I’m days behind on NaNoWriMo. Days. I’m about to start working on it, as soon as I’ve finished blogging. I’ll write on the drive to Wyoming for Thanksgiving, as well. And in Wyoming. I have not yet admitted defeat. (And I’ll be going to the TGIO party whether or not I finish it…)

I’m trying to type with a cat in my lap. Last night, I was trying to type with my husband on my left arm. I persevere, regardless.

See, I used to think that a blog post needed a thesis. A theme. A point, even.

Now I’m just babbling.

…to avoid blogging.

I had several brilliants posts to write today. One about gay marriage. Another about how I met my darling NovySan. (So many things I could say about NovySan.)

I might have shared some wedding pictures.

Commented on how difficult it is to blog one-handed. (No, I wasn’t trying to blog and look at porn. Though I did see a rather fetching picture of Prince Harry with another man’s nipple in his mouth today. He’s not really my type, though.)

But I was working.

And downloading Lair of the White Worm from Amazon Unbox, because I apparently donated my VHS to the National Council of Jewish Women, haven’t bought the DVD yet. It wasn’t ready in time to watch it tonight, though, so we watched Meet the Robinson’s, which was better than I expected. It’s really cute, actually. And has entire sequences that are all about the animators getting to tell ridiculous visual jokes. And has great lines like, “Don’t really need a duck.”

I just remembered that because there’s someone outside who sounds a bit like a duck.

Sleep well.