Lemme try to reconstruct that intro quickly. Grumble.
This first week of relative isolation has been another busy one full of lessons, challenges, and surprises.
For one, I wandered into the living room the other night and rested my chin on the sill of a high open window. That cat has an odd gait, I thought. It was a raccoon. Oh, the suburbanity! I haven't seen one of those since Jersey. I watched him make his silent rounds from yard to yard.
I was not expecting nature to be so in my face (and in my house) when I moved down here. So far Little Pink has been the unwitting host to a lizard, colossal flying cockroaches, dragonflies, fleas, spiders, uh...various colors and textures of mold I've never seen before. I wouldn't be surprised to find an alligator squatting in the tub one day. Maybe that's what was pounding on my door the other night.
Anyway here's the latest indoor visitor.
On the lesson front, Amy made red beans & rice at Christy's and they invited me over to watch the Gossip Girl finale. She's here for a month nursing bff Christy back to health from major surgery. (Yay for both of them! You should've seen the bff tenderness.) They all started throwing out regional terms like "tump," which is a blend of "tip" and "dump," meaning to shove something over, and "making groceries" (as opposed to just getting them), then Christy's mom busted out a crazy Cajun innovation: cane (sugar) syrup poured over cornbread in a bowl, then eaten as a treat. (Are Cajuns stoners? Because that snack is a stoner invention if ever I saw one. Maybe add some sprinkles if you have 'em.)
I hadn't seen Goss Girl before and won't go out of my way to see it again. I could barely tell the females apart, including the MILF one, who must've reproduced at age ten to have a high-school-aged daughter (and who hooked up with the rocker DILF who also must have reproduced at age ten because he looks all of 30). I'll stick with my 90210 stories.
Another discovery is that it's a lot easier to keep the house in semi-order without fiance around. Ahem. And there's more quiet at night, which is good for writing.
But this week of solitary has also had moments bordering on being filed under CoKane's Dark Carnival of the Soul. A few can't-sleep, 5 a.m. emails to friends I miss, and generally trying not to get weird from lack of human contact. But so far it's been kept mostly in check.
The peaceful night view of the raccoon was somehow soothing. Also helpful was this great show I just found, The Alaska Experiment. Sit me in front of any program about Alaska and I'll be mesmerized, but this show is insane--I'm still not clear on the whole premise, but the one I saw had one group of regular people trekking through the brutal wilderness for days, running out of food and water before reaching their goal, and another pair enduring cabin fever (which rather put my own temporary isolation in perspective). The team hiking through the wilderness thought their trip would take four days. It ended up taking like seven days of obstacle after obstacle, they were delusional and dehydrated by the time they made their goal, but they made it. Through seven days of harsh weather and toil and trouble, no one mentioned giving up as a real option (unless it was edited out, but they all seemed to be super-determined). It was also refreshing to see a reality show with people with good character rather than complaining neurotics and psychos. Also, at least two were from New Jersey. Represent!
Anyway, all of this could probably be tied together in some more cohesive way, but what do you want. I'm busy.