It’s May and I’m so cold. The chillblains that I managed to escape this winter have found me in early spring. I go outside and curse at the wind “be nice!” I shout. It’s like a dog that won’t stop barking. Two months ago I would have been overjoyed simply to have green grass. Now I want the wind chill to be above 50 degrees. Are we never satisfied?
Currently my computer is fanning itself like it’s the middle of a heatwave in the South Pacific. Overdrive. I shouldn’t be typing this to you at the same time I’m exporting a video, but I am. I am pushing things to the limit! Yeah! Lets hope my computer doesn’t melt.
Lately my computer is constantly running on overdrive. Video editing. Eric calls me up in the middle of the day “What are you doing?” he asks. “Oh, just editing more videos.” I feel like I’m living in LA or something. Except for the weather. And the fact that in a typical day my only human interaction is with my post office ladies. I love my post office ladies. They know what I want and they don’t even ask. It’s like going to the coffee shop and them knowing exactly what type of coffee you want. Except that this is packages and shipping profiles. Maybe not as exciting. Maybe more exciting? I mean this is detailed stuff. This isn’t just americano with cream (is that a thing? I don’t have a single barista who knows how I like my coffee, which these days is black, straight from my coffee pot circa 1998). This is tracking, no tracking, first class, priority. These ladies don’t even ask. They know. One of my post office ladies told me I should get a goat. “That’s what my husband says,” I tell her. “Then we wouldn’t have to mow the lawn.” She frowns in consideration. “They produce a lot of milk,” she says. Which would be good for my soap.
She’s got me really considering this idea. It seems so doable when it’s my post office lady telling me to go for it and not my ever optimistic husband (I love him for that, I just don’t necessarily trust his judgement on animal husbandry).
“But they’re not allowed in the Village,” she blurts out. Bursting my bubble, just like that. One second I’m editing videos with my sweet goat….I’ve already named her. Karen. I think naming my goat Karen is so funny that I laughed about it for thirty seconds, which is a long time to laugh about something when you’re all by yourself in your dining room. One second I’m editing videos with Karen and the next second Karen is a refugee, sleeping in the spare room. Hiding out from the Village Livestock Police. That is a great name for a band.
“But you could bring it to the outskirts of town and tie it up there in…whatshisnames yard…” Wow, she wants me to have a goat more than I want me to have a goat. I don’t want a goat…Do I want a goat?
A few months ago our dear friend Donna spent the night (that’s her with the red hair). We were bringing her to the airport and her flight was cancelled because of the cold. Can you imagine that? So she came back to our house and we had a video shoot (duh). The next day Eric was in the old stairwell mixing one of our new tracks. I was sitting in the front room editing videos. Donna was on the couch doing something on her laptop. We all looked like a bunch of nerds. (I use the word nerd in the most endearing way possible). Laptops on our laps, giant headphones on our heads. I looked up from my computer, the heat of the machine burned my thighs. “Wow. This must be what it’s like in LA or at Google HQ,” I thought to myself. Minus the goat. They must have a goat at Google HQ.
ps These stills are from our most recent video shoot. We spent an afternoon in the back field playing make-believe music, running around with an old chest, and having grass fights. It was super.