i return!

Boyfriend got a new job, which required training in Boston for two months. Since my job is telecommuted, we decided to get Jr. and Addie and go together. We just got back to California this week and I'm too tired to write, so here's a photo montage of some of the cooler things we got to see while we were out there:

Massachusetts:

Boston.

Sculpture at MIT.

Old Burying Point in Salem.

Plymouth Rock. A man there asked me if the rock was famous because the Pilgrims crashed their ship into it.

Sacrifice Rock, also in Plymouth. Native Americans traveling the area would place stick figure sacrifices on it for safe passage.

My babies.

Literal fork in the road. Left side goes to Massachusetts, right side goes to Rhode Island.

Story goes that the person who lived here during the witch trials helped those accused of witchcraft run away. The townspeople marked the rock to make him a target for their fear and anger. The guy who lives here now refers to it as "Ex-wife Rock".

My ghost photo at the Lizzie Borden House. This spot marks where the Step-Mother's body was found. (There's no glass between me and that spot).

The Lizzie Borden home is now a bed and breakfast. You can stay in any of these rooms.

Visiting the aquarium with friends.

The Daily Catch in the North End. It was amazing. Go there. Peer pressure.

Our awesome little family.

Museum of Bad Art. The art really was bad.

Mapparium.

Bunker Hill.

Vermont:

The Whispering Statue. If you sit at the end of the bench and another person sits at the opposite end so that the statue blocks them from view, the acoustics work so you can hear them whispering.

The ad for this place read "Meet your soul mate llama". How could we pass that up?

Cabot Cheese Factory Tour.

The Ben & Jerry's Flavor Graveyard.

Rhode Island:

Grave of a suspected vampire.

An abandoned amusement park, the Enchanted Forest.

I use anchors in all of my decorating.

Every slight curve is marked like this. It made me feel like I was in Mario Kart.

New Hampshire:

Ruggle's Mine.

They arm you with picks, shovels, and buckets and let you loose in here to start your very own cave in.

Andres Sculpture Park.

Grave of a man who was persecuted for his beard. People would actually physically attack him and try to shave it off, but he never gave in.

Four-legged chicken in the Woodman Institute Museum.

Room of instant nightmares.

Connecticut:

Wild Bill's Nostalgia Center.

We made a little contribution.

We made a second trip to Mark Twain's house because it was that awesome.

Maine:

The International Cryptozoology Museum.

I had a very intense conversation with the owner about the Patterson-Gimlin film. He is a firm believer of its authenticity.

We had an amazing time, but it's good to be home. I missed our oven.


much love,
hedgie

write drunk, edit sober

A few months ago, I came across the quote "write drunk, edit sober" and decided to give it a try. I thought it would create some great blog entries where I could display both the drunken piece and the finished product to show how much stories transform during the revision process. I tried to do this a grand total of three times before coming to the conclusion that I am awful at it.

Try #1:

I started drinking after dinner and only managed to write this sentence before it was 3 in the morning. Then I woke Nick up and told him that drunk writing was really hard over and over again until he made me go to bed.

" We started dTING ON THE DAY THE TITANIC SANK. I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THAT AS A SIGN.

s"

Try #2:

Then on my second try, all I could think about was how unpleasant it was the first time.

" My first attempt at drunk writing was difficult. I was up to lte and rather thn writing, I woke Nick up at 3 in the morning to rell him hosw difficult it was to write drun over and over until eh put me to bed

sMy eyes are heavy and  fell like Im;s goin to fall asleep."

Try #3:

For the third try, Nick tried to inspire me by setting up a print of a cat wearing a ruff that was in Mark Twain's home. This cat made an appearance in every bed time story Twain told his daughters.

" NIck placed the print of the cat in the ruff on the T.V stand along with a bag of Beggin; Strips and his iPhonr and told me to write anout each object in one story. The cat’s eyes stared at me. I didn’t know what t d do with them. All it made me do was thin k about mu few times with cats. My Aunti had cats hat I used to love until one day it sunk it’s claws into m ylegs when we took a photo. In my family, my brothers and I were deemed old enough to have pets when we were ten.  AAs my birthday aopriached, I was set in e a calico cat, My parernts prepared for this despite the fact they were both dog peopke and bout cat suppliesl Then a few days beforem y birthday, I decided that I wantd a dog. Then I got a dog, and I t was awesome. My bes t friend did not like odhs until she met my dig, sena. She is still a cat person but it’ is nice to know tha the first dog she ever likd was Seana"

It's pretty obvious that these are just drunken ramblings and no amount of editing can save them. When I brought up my failure at this writing technique with my friend Corrie, she pointed out that the quote most likely came from an alcoholic who needed to be drunk just to function like a normal person.

This made me feel better. After all, if I have to fail at something, I'm glad it's alcoholism. 






much love,
hedgie