Category Archives: view from the lime

maybe this is just real life recounted, or creative nonfiction, or maybe it’s uncategorizeable

In Which There Is a New Job and Popcorn


I made maple and brown sugar sauce with coconut oil for popcorn yesterday and it was incredible. I also paid enough attention to the Oscars to know that Anna Hathaway is weirdly widely hated and Adele is weirdly widely loved — at least according to Twitter, that the Onion may have issued it’s first-ever retraction after making a stupid wise crack about the most adorable child actor yet to be sucked in by Hollywood, and that the same Quvenzhané was also subjected to weird sexualization by MacFarlane who declared it would be 16 years before she would be too old for George Clooney. My conclusion: weird.

Then this morning there was Starbucks, coffee, and re-hashing of things I used to know how to do but don’t really know how to do any more. Without a doubt, I am a happy camper to be opening, but I have a feeling that I will be craving more than one 2 pm nap in the weeks to come. Unfortunately, 2 pm is about the mid-hour of job number two, so I’ll have to quell those urges, at least for the time being.

I made more popcorn tonight and used brewer’s yeast on it that I think was mislabeled (#annoying) because it’s not yellow and flakey the way it’s supposed to be.

It’s amazing how studying writing or reading closely as a part of your main employment will make you rethink every word you choose when you are the one writing. And rethink grammatical structure. And rethink metaphors, mixed or well-constructed though they may be. Even beginning a sentence with the phrase “It’s amazing how…” starts to annoy me. Like it’s too tawdry or something. Too tired.

However, writing begets better writing, at least from what I can tell, and so… I shall write.

And you may even see a transition to substance sometime soon.

But I won’t make promises, because that would be calling it a comeback a little too soon, I think 😉

I might owe my Dad a post on the New Girl. I’ll think about it.

And we can’t go on without Rules. Watch for that.

Soliloquy: Utterance by a person talking to herself oblivious to present hearers


When I suddenly ceased to blog, I had written 337 posts.

It was something of an impulsive decision, the way some people get tattoos. I thought about it, but then suddenly, boom!, no more blog (or ink permanently injected into the skin) and that was that. Although this is a decision, unlike tatting up, that is easily reversed. I could keep blogging. It might even be good for me. An exercise in continued continuous writing. The point, I think, is that the blog serves it’s purpose: it gets me to write when otherwise I would not. Sometimes I even edit.

In any case, here I am, writing some rather self-indulgent soliloquies on my blog.

I think it might be time to write some rules, or a list of something. I’m good at that. I’m also looking at alternative blog theme backgrounds, so um, if you have any free wordpress preferences/recommendations, there are a few of you regulars who could really influence this decision.

The Ongoing Saga of Psycho Chicken – AKA the Brooding Hen


My parents gave away three of their chickens while I was away counseling (sad face, says the obsessive egg-eater). But there are still two in the back yard. When I arrived, one of the two was sitting in her berth on the inside of the shed where they roost at night.

I assumed she was laying an egg — I’m not big on schedules or whatever, so it didn’t occur to me that it was 3 pm and usually chickens lay eggs in the morning. The next morning, the same chicken was in the same thought and I thought… Oh, no. So I called my mom.

(Me): Mom, there’s something wrong with one of the chickens. It’s just sitting there and won’t move.

(Mom): Oh yeah, she’s brooding. It’s annoying.

(Me): Ok, well, am I supposed to do something?

(Mom): I got her out once or twice a day to make her run around and I put her in cold water once because the internet said that might work. Apparently this can last for up to 21 days.

(Me): Awesome.


(Me): So I should get her out of there?

(Sidenote): The chickens nesting berth area is like a cubby hole. Not super easy to get your hands in there.

(Mom): I don’t know. I used newspaper so she wouldn’t bit me.

(Me): Mom, she looks like she’s going to die.

(Mom): Huh, yeah, she might. You should probably get her out.

(Me): MOM! She can’t die while I’m HERE.

(Mom): Ok, well you should probably get her out.

So I’ve been doing that. Going in two or three times a day to get out the psycho chicken who then proceeds to dash around the chicken pen area, wings out. She drinks some water, pecks around and then goes back to sit in there with all of her feathers puffed out. Nut. Anyway, this morning, I go out there to get her out, and what do I find, but both chickens in the same cubby, looking mischievous. So one of these chickens is not brooding, but I think that the left cubby is where she likes to lay, so she has crawled in there despite the presence of her psycho friend and looks out at me like I’m interrupting something.


And that is the ongoing saga of the psycho chicken.