Diann

I’ll redirect this blog address to the new one as of July 1. I’d prefer people bookmark everwild.net for future use, only because the whole basis for these changes has been to simplify. However, if you have the current address bookmarked and don’t change it, you should still get to where you need to go.

WordPress isn’t the greatest CMS, but I can’t seem to find any programs that fall between WordPress and the very complicated looking Joomla. There’s just too much monkeying under the hood, which is why there are simpler ways to accomplish things — such as etsy and blogger. Of course, I’m open to evolution and may very well spend some time tinkering in the background with Joomla or looking for that perfect application.

It’s also my intent that the new blog should have a more professional feel and be less personal in nature. I’m pretty sure most people don’t care much for my inner workings, and the handful that do usually call, write, or actually spend time with me. They’re the ones who can listen to me rail against The Man, because they’re the ones who lub me lots. Yes, it might be difficult to stay off my soap box here and avoid ranting at the Evil Empires; it’s in my nature to pluck heads from the sand and make folks look at the real world. After all, I’m one of those evil nasty critters that believes Fahrenheit 451 wasn’t so much a work of fiction as it was a prediction.

Before I run off to buy new #11 craft blades, I do want to mention that more than 60 people peeked in on me on June 18th. That’s record traffic for 1 day at Everwild (whoa!), the highest before that being (I think) 47. Blog stats still kinda creep me out. Well, not the stats themselves, more the knowing that people are out there — not just happening by — but, also seeking me out. There’s that cautious (okayokay, paranoid) voice in the back of my head that wonders if any former inmates out there still yearn to make good on those not-very-often-but-still-ever-present threats to kill, rape, or otherwise maim me. Hiding less and less behind an anonymous online presence intensifies that sense of vulnerability. Invisibility was a good, useful tool; it had its place, but it was also very singular in nature.

So, I’m happy for the extra visits, and I’ll strive to make this place less about me and more for you. I hope everyone is having a lovely day. If not, and you don’t feel like putting on a happy face, you know where to find me. You don’t have to pretend.

Sorry for the confusion. It’s a fine lesson for remembering to document everything clearly. It takes me back to the “Make a better peanut butter and jelly sandwich” exercise Jon had me do when I was learning how to program.

The temperature is slowly creeping up, but while it’s not horrifically hot in the house, I wanted to make a quick catch up post and show off the cabinet Jon bought me for my birthday.

I’ve been thrashing myself to death against photography the last month, caught somewhere between wanting to take simple pictures to post quickly and good photos that take a higher level of dedication. I’ve resisted Jon — not at every turn — but certainly more than I probably should. Each time I take pictures by his instruction, though, when they aren’t incredibly fuzzy because I can’t hold the camera still to save my life, they turn out much better than the point-and-click auto method.

I am resistant to the time involved in enhancing my photography abilities only because as I introduce yet another skill to the things I need to learn, I find myself stretching thin and becoming unable to perfect any one craft. Were I an endless fountain of energy, it wouldn’t seem like such a huge undertaking, but as I develop one skill, another falls short. I devote less time to writing, to art, or to maintaining the website (which in itself can feel more enveloping, like a lifestyle, than simply a set of skills).

Then comes that evil, perfectionist hag who lives deep within my psyche, rearing her ugly mug and wrapping her toothless maw around words that tell me I’m sub par. I wonder if she’d shut up if I buried her under 16 lbs. of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It’d definitely be high on my list of fun experiments to try. But, (sigh) I’ve had my quota of Cold Stone this week (a medium “The Pie Who Loved Me” shared with the super hubby).

Truth is, while I still battle perfectionist tendencies, I’ve learned the consequences of being that perfectionist and I refuse to do that to myself again. I’m the tortoise in this race and need to take all these skills in that TurtleZen stride I’ve been developing. I’ve seen the pictures I’ve taken that are flash-dependent. They’re not fuzzy, but they’re just not as good as the photos when I’m controlling the shutter speed and aperture manually. It’s not instant gratification, certainly, but I suppose it will be worth the effort in the long run.

Happy day!

The trauma the little bay horse in this video suffers is absolutely heart-wrenching. It should NOT have happened. In my entire history with horses, horsemen, and cowboys alike (yes, I do count them as different beasts), I’ve never seen such a despicable, unadulterated lack of compassion. If this is representative of the rodeo industry as a whole, DEFINITELY count me out.

And call me enemy.

If you’re interested in learning more, please visit SHowing Animals Respect and Kindness and help save a pony.

Please.

Really.

Note: The spiffy-cool cuff used here is Jon’s handiwork (and he stayed up well past midnight to help me). :)

It would have been a fantastic day for riding and I’m sooo glad we spent the time outside.

I spent the morning working on journals. Most of my materials for this last batch have been recycled bits. I recently found an assortment of stationary at the thrift shop and wanted to use it up. I have a lot of fun working with wall paper, too, and I need to figure out more creative ways to utilize all the cereal boxes I keep, because — yanno — Jon is like the champion cereal eater of all time. We could build a house out of his empties. Hmmm, this idea has possibilities.

I can’t figure out what to do about my upcoming 40th birthday, except possibly pine for that super coolie-wazoo new TV to go with that super coolie-wazoo Playstation 3 which my super huggable, snuggable hubby is going to magically procure for me because HEY, we’ve got nothing better to do with that $2500 hanging around, right? Right. Why? Because the developers of Shadow of the Colossus are currently working on a new game for the PS3 and I just know there will [MUST] be ponies involved. Naturally, if there are ponies, we must have them. (My husband is somewhere in the background thinking, yanno, by now, a REAL horse might be a heck of a lot cheaper.)

If only. But … well, 40 seems significant. I’m hoping it means I’m middle-aged, because at the moment, 80 seems like a fine time to check out. Another 40 years? Sure, why not? Maybe with enough Omega 3 fatty acids I’ll even remember most of it. I look forward to the challenge of embracing what is to come while not dwelling too much on what used to be. If there is a heaven, though, I think I will be seventeen — barefoot, horseback, and carefree.

1:15 a.m. >> Heh. I’m going to have to rename my computer to “Zoomie” now. I think we may have actually fixed my computer for real this time.

On Tuesday, I got to spend the day in Roanoke with Susan. Wow, I had so much fun and — for it being her birthday lunch from me — I made out like a bandit, making off with several treasures: one of Susan’s pillow babies (she’s PURPLE!), the second volume of Inu-yasha (manga? graphic novel?) from her hubby, 3 painted wooden fish, a handmade bracelet of Tech colored beads, a little etched/painted gourd, and an armload of mint-condition journals.

Susan and her hubby are lush, colorful characters full of stories just begging to be chronicled, but there are boundaries that I feel shouldn’t be crossed because they’re private individuals. I think I can get away with an observation or two, though, and say never have I met two beautifully matched people, both with a youthful effervescence and that boundless energy one associates with those pre-teen years just before the onslaught of teenage angst. They are both yin and yang, both kids-at-heart, and I was blown away by the suffusion of creativity throughout the whole of their home. And the collections those two have? HOO-EE! They’re just to die for. :)

The visit gave me the opportunity to discover even more layers to Susan, which I enjoyed immensely, so much so, that more than once I lost track of the time. In her, I found something kindred. Not only can I share an enthusiasm for art, but also someone here — on the east coast — can relate when I speak of struggle or what it’s like for my life to have suddenly turned “normal” (I mean, really, what is normal?).

OK, OK, I could easily go on for another hour, but I’m losing my ability to complete thoughts and use the right words. It’s definitely bedtime!