New Home

I've moved all (most?) of the stuff here to a new site, so come visit me there.  I'll be posting all the new blog entries on that page, PLUS I have a couple of new projects coming up.  One of those is up now (the Wendy City) and another one is still in the works.

http://www.wendy.com/

Hope to see you there sometime!

Rethinking the Broken

(cc: Flickr) by Tina

My garbage disposal is broken. I flip the switch and it just makes a sick noise that is the equivalent of a wild animal that has been injured beyond repair.

My mother came over and I warned her not to put any food down that side of the sink and she gave me a look as if she were insulted, as if I was rude to suggest she would even use a garbage disposal. "You should compost," she said, wrinkling her nose at me.

She's against garbage disposals. All food that can be composted should be composted, she thinks.  She is suddenly interested in vermiculture.

I agree with all this, except I suspect that she is against garbage disposals because hers stopped working too.  Because of a wayward scrubby that got sucked down the drain, chewed up and a large plumbing bill later has left her angry at all garbage disposals as if they are lying in wait just to ruin your day.

When she saw I was not ready to give up on it she offered a solution involving torque and a broom handle. But she said it with little resolve, as if she was just checking the box under "obligatory maternal advice."

I think she is secretly hoping I will finally abandon it and join the revolution of anti-disposal worm farmers who will unite to make the world a better place.

Remember Me in 2033

September, 2015, we stood at the edge of the silent street and stared at it, the eclipse of the supermoon, a blood moon. Down the street a neighbor, also in his pajamas stared motionless into the sky. Up the street I heard children running out of their house shouting for their parents to hurry, to see the moon, to see the magic.

My vision was suddenly clouded by a memory of another time, being woken in the dead of night by my grandmother who sneaked me out of bed and walked me, groggy and confused, barefoot down a dirt lane to her house where hot chocolate waited. Outside in the sky, Comet West tore past our planet. I have no idea how it looks in outer space but to a nine year old girl on the surface of Earth it was a fat, smeary star, fuzzy around the edges. The greater novelty was being out under the stars with my grandmother and a mug of cocoa while my parents slept in the house next door, completely clueless as to my whereabouts.

It was February, 1976. Mystics claim that comets portend coming cataclysmic events. That summer my parents would divorce and my life would change radically. But right then there was hot chocolate and magic. As far as I knew, all was right with the world.

But forward to 2015 I stood in the street with my family in a surreal diorama with neighbors, all of us staring entranced at the sky like a scene from a weird sci-fi movie.

I wrapped my arms around my littlest boy, my mouth nuzzled against his ear. "Remember me in 2033 when this comes around again. Be sure to bring your kids outside to watch this with them, okay?"

"I will Mom, I promise."