because they have so much room for all their other crap

last night, the husband came home from a quick errand to the grocery store with this to say:
"isawanuprightpianoonthesideoftheroadan'ialwayswantedoneandthisone'sthereforfreean'canihaveit?"

to the baron - ignorant in all things piano related - the phrase 'upright piano' suggested something slim, something petite. something that maybe came with a strap. something that could sit unobtrusively in a corner of the basement, near the husband's drum kit. the baron had a parallel train of thought that went something like this: 'hey. they husband doesn't know how to play the piano...' but his enthusiastically shining face was too much for her. she consented and he hopped down the front stairs to get to the truck, to get to the piano. the tiny, unobtrusive, be-strapped one.

ahem.

in the end, it took the husband and a neighbor twenty minutes to unload this piano from the back of the truck into the basement... because reader, it's not very small at all.

in fact, it's rather piano sized. regular piano sized.

and it's only just barely related to a piano, as far as the baron can tell, since one is able to play, with the push of a button, any number of instruments on this 'piano'.

sigh.

butterfly bush

two years ago, maybe three, the baron and the husband planted two butterfly bushes near the front steps of their house.


it turns out they actually DO attract butterflies...


every afternoon the baron - and the dogs, when they're not otherwise preoccupied with squirrels - takes a seat on the front steps to watch the aerial traffic, all blues and yellows and blacks and browns.

the end of summer

the baron and the husband had a very successful summer, as far as the vegetables go. (fruit, reader, was significantly less successful: three strawberries, a handful of blueberries and blackberries, and lots of peach pits don't add up to much.) sadly, summer is coming to and end, and the vegetable plants in the garden are beginning to wither... last weekend, the husband took out the cucumber plants, and it seems that the watermelon (one fully mature fruit so far) is not far behind. though the tomatoes, hot peppers, green beans and okra are still quite healthy and productive, the baron is quickly losing interest in the garden. she cannot, for instance, fathom canning ANYTHING ELSE. which means... free tomatoes for everyone!

lousy things happen, or, an open letter to the husband

dear the husband,

i'm sorry you didn't get that job. i'm even sorrier that the whole thing reeked of 'pre-selected winner', since you were told you didn't get the job not 6 hours after interviewing for it. i'm sorry that a bumbling, weak-spined fool of a woman got it instead. i'm sorry that your personal style has been called into questions - though, to be fair, how seriously can you be taken in jeans and tucker logo shirts? in any case, the reference to your clothes was a very low blow indeed, and i'm sorry that someone thought to judge you based not on your skills but on your sartorial choices.

i've been thinking lately that i'm just so tired of maryland: the humidity, my job, everything. then i realized, this august we've been here three years... which is the longest we've been anywhere since the early 2000s. when recounting our life together, i always mention the cities we've lived in, and then i say, 'i think we had wanderlust in our hearts.' but, the husband, i still DO have wanderlust in my heart. i know that we can't pick up and leave like we once could, for we are bound to this place by work and mortgage and the good gs rating. but, sigh, i wish it weren't so.

the recent change in my medication dosage is, i feel certain, also adding to my grumpiness and general lethargy. i clearly recall the reasons why we decided to alter my dosage, but the husband? those reasons are seeming less and less compelling to me lately. i miss my health.

ok. let me try to end this on a high note, since it's been pretty much a downer so far.

next monday, we will celebrate our three year wedding anniversary, and your 37th birthday. our anniversary snuck up on me, and i must confess: i've thought not at all about gifts for you. my thoughtlessness, though, should not diminish the importance of the day, not at all! i love you, i still love you, and i hope we don't get divorced.

xo,
the baron

lately, or damn that zipper, or, humble pie tastes good

today, the baron is thinking about zippers, about how they are tricky little buggers, about how- even with the fabled zipper-foot-that-will-ease-your-sewing-grief - they are still RATHER DIFFICULT to apply to a, any, every sewing project. the baron is currently working on a skirt (too many seasons of 'project runway' has led her to believe that she, too, can create!) and spent the better part of yesterday evening adding a zipper - a hidden one, no less - to the waistband. the baron is kind of 'meh' about elastic, but reader? after this zipper agony, elastic is looking very, very attractive to her.

the bummer? that after adding the zipper, she still has more to do! it seems to her that the adding of the zipper should be the final step, not the penultimate one (for there is still finishing to be done). penultimate is bollocks, she is thinking.

also.

those of you who know the baron know that she doesn't actually watch that much television, especially during the week. she misses out on a lot of stuff, even stuff she likes, but alas. she'd rather end her day with a book than with more looking at a longer-than-it-is-tall screen. because, you know. SHE DOES THAT ALL DAY LONG.

anyway.

she misses out on a lot. some of it's good, too; television, it's true, is getting better all the time. see for instance, '30 rock', and 'gilmore girls', and 'veronica mars'.

see, also, 'friday night lights'.

reader, the baron cannot believe that she enjoys this show, what with the football and texas and all, but SHE REALLY DOES. by way of explanation:

shortly before leaving for ireland, the baron and the husband went thrift shopping; the baron wanted something to read since they'd be traveling for A VERY LONG TIME. and reader? it was a boon day at the thrift; she found: 'encore provence: new adventures in the south of france' (she already had 'a year in provence' and 'toujours provence') and 'chasing cezanne', both by peter mayle; 'under the tuscan sun' and its follow-up 'bella tuscany'; 'the life and times of the thunderbolt kid', by bill bryson; and 'friday night lights: a town, a team, and a dream' by h.g. bissinger.

ahem.

the baron has been to both provence and tuscany. she's a fan. so you, reader, can see why memoirs extolling the virtues of the european lifestyle might appeal to her.

on a previous trip to the thrift store, she found 'a walk in the woods' by bill bryson, remembered his name from some almost-forgotten holiday gift, and decided to take a $.60 chance. 'a walk in the woods', it turns out, is good. and bryson's writing is great. so, from there, 'the life and times of the thunderbolt kid' did not seem a stretch, right? the baron believes that good (engaging, interesting, lively, entertaining) writing can transcend subject matter.

so.

'friday night lights'. she's not a football fan, not in the least. she doesn't get it, not any part of it. however, the baron believes that good writing can transcend subject matter, and she had heard praises sung in the name of this book. the flight abroad would be long, she would have time to kill; she took a $.65 chance.

'friday night lights' was the first book she read on their trip; she started it shortly after getting on the train that would take them to the plane that would take them to the other plane that would take them to ireland. at first, she hoped that she would not regret carting a 400 page book around ireland; she hoped that it would hold her attention for a little while at least.

reader. for real. the book grabbed her right away - it's an amazing, well-written non-fiction book about small-town texas football. it is depressing, and - yes - heartwarming, and shocking, and shot through with racism, and dreams (intact ones and broken ones too), and football. it's good business. it is, in fact, the opposite of a bollocks zipper.

she finished it before they even got to ireland. over the course of their trip, she reread parts of it. (the baron would like to mention that the book was published in 1990, so it's a little dated. the epilogue, however, makes up for that a little bit, and you know what? she'd like to amend her previous statement about good writing to say instead: the baron believes that good writing can transcend subject matter and era.)

so.

18 months ago, the baron found that a note had been left at her netflix account, from her friend lalee. it said, in part:
"football + texas = who cares, right? kids, let me tell how good this show is: it's good. give it a chance and you'll be surprised. honest. "

the baron's response (in part):
"it turns out "football + texas" does in fact =who cares. i just can't get behind it..."

now, 18 months later, the baron is forced to admit that, YES, LALEE, YOU WERE RIGHT, THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST SHOW EVER. I WAS VERY, VERY WRONG. YOU WERE VERY, VERY RIGHT. I AM EATING HUMBLE PIE, AND IT IS TASTY. and also, go panthers.

christmas in july, if only

the action around the baron's house last saturday night:

-i'm making harlan pepper sit outside on the front porch.

-he's on the porch right now, sitting? why? he was bad?

-yes. he didn't come when i called, so i think he should have to wait on the front porch and watch all of us inside. he should have to watch all of us inside eating christmas dinner, like tiny tim.

-i think that doesn't actually work, because tiny tim was good, and also, i think tiny tim got to eat the dinner. so.

-oh. well. harlan's the bad tiny tim.