122 Days

I can’t believe that Fall is almost here.  I’m torn – I love autumn, but this year it’s enough to incite panic in my very soul.  It’s official, the count-down has begun.  I have 122 calendar days left before D-Day.  No more sleeping or eating for me, at least not for three months.  I wonder if any Ph.D. students have ever died trying to graduate… hmmm…

Now that it’s more or less September, the final, last-ditch push has begun.  Oddly enough, I know about how far I can push myself – it’s the computer I’m worried most about.  I’m not sure exactly how much I can abuse it.  Every time I walk by I see smoke seeping under the door and hear gears gnashing their teeth in utter hatred.  It’s an eye-opening experience taking a computer to its working limits.  One day I think I may hear a ‘pop!’, and that will be it.

When I hear the ‘pop!’, that will be my cue to go buy some seedlings and start my tree farm.  I’ll have to move to Washington State first.  I won’t have anything to do for the first few years while the trees are starting out, so I’ll sit around and learn a new trade.  When I took a vocation test in high school, it told me that I should be a mechanic.  I really don’t like getting greasy, though, so that’s out.  Plus, anyone who knows me will tell you that, for an engineer, I’m not the most mechanically inclined woman in the world.  No, I think I would buy some new paints and charcoals, and try to find work as a children’s book illustrator.  Maybe greeting cards.  Maybe freelance photography.  Mmm… I kind of hope that the computer pops.

I’d like to find a day to run away from the gnashing gears.  I’d find a big field with lots of very, very tall grass, and I would sit down so that I couldn’t see over the grass, and no one could see me.  The ground might be damp, but I wouldn’t even mind my seat getting wet.  I’d look at all the little hopping bugs.  I’d lie down on my back and close my eyes, and I’d imagine the clouds floating overhead.  The ground would smell rich and warm and the grass would smell sunshiny-sweet.  I would hide there all day.  

The east coast and the west coast are certainly more beautiful than the Midwest, but the Midwest has something else going for it.  It smells sweet.  Not like the blue mountainous beauty of the West or the greenness of the Northeast, but sweet like earth and growing things.    When I drive down roads through the cornfields of Southern Indiana with the windows open, I think it smells like the colors yellow and lavender would smell.  Those are sweet smells.

Home, Sweet Home.

Garage Saling

Garage saling is my favorite thing to do on a Saturday morning. Possibly my favorite thing to do on any morning, for that matter. Waking up is exciting because you never know what you might find for a dollar. I like to get up around 6:3o, take a quick shower, and head over to the corner UDF. There I buy a 50 cent Enquirer, take some cash out of the ATM, and Aaron pops over to Bruggers to rustle up some bagels. The bagels generally cost more than anything else we buy that day (but are a necessary staple). As an aside, though, Brueggers seriously needs to step up their bagel-slicing technique. It generally looks like they're trying to slaughter a cow when they cut the bagel. Brutal.

Anyway, so I get my newspaper and some money. We throw back some poorly-sliced bagels while I read the paper in the car, and then YAY!!! off we go, in search of the perfect garage sale.

Perhaps it's more like off I go in search of the perfect garage sale, and Aaron comes along to keep me company.

Now, I have a very clear idea of what the perfect garage sale is, and while I could write on this topic for hours, I won't bore you. I'm saving it for a book. (I'm serious.) I will just say that it is big, varied, and the sellers have no idea what anything they have is worth. And I am the only one there. The kind of garage sale that you have to put fake "decoy" garage sale signs up at other houses to fool the other salers. THAT, my friends, would be Saturday morning bliss.

I have realized that this is approximately my 20th year garage saling, and I figure that I'm as much an expert as anyone. I am a self-proclaimed authority on all things garage saling. Wait for the book. You'll see.