A simple story

A month or so ago, I was looking for something to read that would just hit the spot. I wasn't in the mood for non-fiction, or deep fiction, so I picked up a nice little bit of youth fiction, "The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill. I really wasn't sure what to expect but it was exactly what my self needed. 

It's a really simple read, an Alaskan girl's account of getting a new teacher at their small school and basically, just a narrative about what she learned at school, how her teacher taught, things going on in her community, what life is like, her family, etc. The kind of thing you'd write in a journal, minus the angst and the "My little brother is always taking my stuff" type of thing. There isn't really a big plot, like a mystery to solve, or a major problem to overcome, or anything like that, it's just a narrative about a year in a girl's life. And it was just beautiful. With just a little tiny heartache for a moment in time that no longer exists, both historically and in the sense of a point in one's life where you are innocently young but also growing up.

I think I sometimes get caught up in the need for a lot of action or plot or problems with resolution--with books, with movies, with TV. It's easy to forget that you don't need a lot of drama or anything to really enjoy something. 

Drama can be overrated.

It's about time

I think shower time runs differently than other time. The shower has its own particular temporal reality. I say this because it never seems like I've been in the shower very long, but when I get out, my clock says otherwise.

To be honest, I think there are lots of these little independent temporal realities. Some are pretty standard, always found in the same place (maybe it's not just my shower, maybe it's my whole bathroom!), or the same time of day (mornings. I think my body is just in its own temporal reality in the morning). And others just pop up randomly. Some meetings seem to last for years. Others go way too quickly. The same is true for days, weeks, months, and years. 

And then I think there are loops and whorls within the independent temporal realities, which explains how, after returning from my last trip, it felt simultaneously just a day since I got home and also 10 years. 

I really think someone should explore this phenomenon. For too long we have just chalked it up to our perception of time, but have we even considered something else might be going on here? It seems to me we need some definite answers. 

And also a way to manipulate them, because I'd love to find a way to have my sleep time seem longer than it is. 

A little bit of fall

Yesterday I visited a state park. It was a nice day for October, and I figured maybe it wouldn't be too late to see some fall colors. Which, it wasn't, hooray!

 

The itsy bitsy spider went up a water spout--but with a cat (?) and my car

I think I may have mentioned the layer of dust that constantly shrouds my vehicle. Well, there's been a new twist: paw prints on the front and rear windshields.

I went out to my car the other day and noticed some prints in the dust on the back window: 

And later, I observed it on the front windshield too (which was hard to see in daylight, too many reflections, but you can see here):

I feel like I have the perfect clues sans one really good mystery but I also I really want to see what I presume is a cat climbing up my car. 

And a dust free neighborhood.