Follow That Rabbit

I wrote part five of The Transcendent Familiar (No idea what I’m talking about? Here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4). Really, I did. As it turns out, though, what I thought was part 5 is actually part 6 (I think, though who knows? Maybe it’s part 7, or 12, or 34.).

I think that, if I was writing a book, it would go just like this, with the back-and-forthing, the rearranging, the jumping-in-and-out of memories, the expanding-and-contracting timeline. The weird/wonderful thing about blogging is that the process is on display as much as the story and you get the story as I go along, instead of after everything has been all cleaned up and neatly arranged.

Or maybe not. I don’t know about writing books. I haven’t written a book since I was ten and my friend Sarah and I wrote the definitive sourcebook on endangered species.

In any case, I wrote a story about something that happened when Jacob was a year old, but then I realized I had to tell a story about something that happened when Jacob was a newborn first. I wrote it, and I’ll post it soon, but I’m treading deep into the land of Other People’s Stories, so it seems wise to go slow and let the words settle a bit before I release them into the world.

Also, I’m fascinated by memory and can’t stop turning it over and around, playing with it and following the rabbit into all his strange little holes. Over the weekend, while I was writing stories from 1993 and 1994, I was overwhelmed with a desire to listen to Fleetwood Mac, like a food craving. I dug through stacks and stacks of CDs (Almost all Brian’s; he is possessed by a need to own every sound ever recorded by The Grateful Dead or any portion thereof.) until I found a “best of” Fleetwood Mac album and loaded it onto my computer.

I haven’t listened to Fleetwood Mac beyond the occasional song that’s come on the car radio in over a decade, but in the early 1990s, they were a musical staple. The memories of that time rang a Fleetwood Mac chime in my brain and I was compelled to respond. Thankfully, Little Lies is as awesome as ever.

In other news, we’re moving! Not just moving, but moving into the The Ugliest House in Albuquerque.

I’ll forgive you for assuming that I’m speaking hyperbolically because I so often do, but this time? Not a chance. Now, I haven’t seen all the houses in Albuquerque, so I can’t be positive that ours is the absolutely, positively, for sure ugliest, but it’s easily the ugliest one I’ve ever seen so we’re going with The Ugliest House in Albuquerque as the title of the new estate.

Behold, the kitchen:

Did I tell you? Oh, and before you ask me WHY in the world we would want such an ugly house, it’s because the location and the floor plan are perfect. What are orange countertops compared to having all the walls in the right places?

Oh, my friends, we are going to have some fun. You know how Brian and I are somewhat directionally challenged? You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen us get our DIY on. The Ugliest House in Albuquerque has no idea what’s coming.

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18 thoughts on “Follow That Rabbit”

  1. Oh, ha ha! I kind of LOVE the kitchen … I don’t know, I would have to start doing my hair like Mary Tyler Moore, but not in her news show, oh no. Not in MTM. It would be from when she was the wife of Dick Van Dyke and I can’t even remember what the sitcom was called. Pretty sure (hoping) I only saw it in reruns, otherwise I am SO OLD. Anyway, I dare you to KEEP the kitchen! But then, I don’t have to live in it, now do I?

    I also like that distraction move to keep us from being too disappointed. Why are blog followers such magpies … Oooooh, look, shiny object. I look forward to the continuation of your story. You know. One day. (And telling my story while not telling others’ stories is really something I struggle with so I respect you so, so much for taking the time needed to be sure, as sure as you can be.

    1. Oh, you gave me the best housewarming party theme party EVER! I mean, if I was the kind of person who threw theme parties, which I’m not. But still, that would be so funny!

      Yes, shiny objects keep people happy. See over there?

      1. Oh, I gots the ideas, just no follow through. Too hard and requires cleaning. I am going to post photos of my kitchen table and chairs AND one of those step-stools that my grama always had in her kitchen — my mom claimed ours but I found one that I kinda-sorta-but-not-really hate but works so well with our kitchen … BIG YELLOW SUNFLOWERS, style circa 1975, which totally brings back memories of my childhood. I swear, if I could afford it I would send you both and get other furniture for my own house because this stuff suits yours even better … Yikes!

        Yet I cannot lie. My kitchen was primary colours when we bought it in the early 90s, and very chunky. We have since renovated, and somehow found the retro yellow and stainless table and said sunflower chair work. Or maybe they don’t and everyone is too nice to tell me?

        I’ll let you know when I put photos on my tumblr so you can get some exactly like them for your kitchen. That could take a while …
        Oooooh! My table is shiny … AND sticky …

  2. Your last post rang a song in my head too, but it wasn’t Fleetwood Mac, it was Petshop Boys of all things! It rings true in my life too, no matter what I do, there was always fault found, I could never do anything right…

    “It’s a Sin”

    When I look back upon my life
    It’s always with a sense of shame
    I’ve always been the one to blame
    For everything I long to do
    No matter when or where or who
    Has one thing in common, too

    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    It’s a sin
    Everything I’ve ever done
    Everything I ever do
    Every place I’ve ever been
    Everywhere I’m going to
    It’s a sin

  3. Wow! Those are some ugly counters–even for Albuquerque! (and I seen some stuff in my days there…) But the the kitchen looks like it will be pretty cool when the counter color get remedied. I know what you mean about memory being strange–and how difficult it is to get a story to track along some reasonable chronological line–while keeping everything interesting.

    1. The best part is, the counters are pristine. They built the house in 1968 and took very, very good care of it, but they never changed anything. It’s like a time capsule.

  4. It’s not ugly … it just needs a little paint! Keep the countertops, slap some bright white paint over all that straight-from-1981 cabinetry, replace the cabinet hardware with the cheap made-for-commercial-supply chrome stuff from Lowe’s, and there you have it. Ugly to modern and sunny, in one afternoon.

    I say this, mind you, never having had to do a project of that nature while juggling two dogs, four children, and some little guys for good measure. So feel free to smack me upside the proverbial head.

    1. Brooke! I’ve missed you!

      I think that there is probably nothing salvageable about this kitchen. The cupboard doors are wood decoration over plexi-glass. Seriously. Oye!

  5. It’s the way the cabinet stain color fights with the pale tangerine countertops….

    Frankly if the cabinets work, do think about painting them (although paint over stain = metric buttload of work) and put off replacing the countertops till you see if the cabinet layout actually works.

    1. I’m totally borrowing that measurement – metric buttload of work. It seems appropriate for so many things.

      Bleh. The kitchen is awful. Not just ugly but way weird. We’ll see. We’re going to live with it exactly as it is for awhile. I plan to wear my sunglasses whenever I’m in the kitchen so those counters don’t blind me!

  6. Hey those counter tops would look great with some plates of brownies, bags of Cheetos, and paper cups with some Mountain Dew laid out on them; while a bootleg from The Dead circa in front of the Great Pyramid in Egypt, playing in the background, and some patchouli incense burns near-by. Duuuuuu-dddddd-eeeee

  7. ^^ **points up**

    I so wanna be at that party.

    Adrienne, it’s awesome to see you, too. Or read. (How does one refer to hanging out with blog friends, anyway?)

    And seriously, I’m excited for you. Even if it’s to a time-capsule kitchen of tacky doom … moves are exciting!! A real pain in the ass, but exciting. I hope the kids are getting their heads wrapped around it; that can be challenging. I recall not taking too well to a move across town when I was fourteen, for no reason other than that I get extremely attached to places. Still, it was great for me, I think.

    When’s D-day?

    1. Yeah, I’m mostly thinking of the pain in the ass part today. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have my mind on the exciting part!

      Of course the move will be stressful for Carter. Taking a BATH is stressful for that kid! The rest of the kids are thrilled. There is some seriously bad juju in this house; a huge family rupture that I thought we would never recover from happened here, so we can’t wait to close the doors behind us.

      We won’t move till October, which gives us time to do some hardcore decluttering around here. I’m not a pack rat, but Brian and Carter make up for my willingness to get rid of stuff.

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