Bombed!

It’s on! There are three yarn bombs around Des Moines in very public places. I have no idea how long they’ll be there though. The basics:

• I met Robb and Matt at 9:45 p.m. Robb wore a black sweatshirt and black beanie. Matt wore flannel. I wore dirty jeans and a dirty sweatshirt. So legit. So ready for some knit graffiti.
• Our first location yelled at us. Literally, the thing spoke, we screamed, and hightailed it outta there.
• First success was in a highly lighted place. Serene though (no screaming this time).
• Second success was in near a security guard and a some old dead guys.
• Third success was like tagging in a spotlight. Matt almost wet his pants as all the cars passed by. I tied as fast as possible, and we sprinted away, babbling with fear.

But how exhilarating. Much congratulations and singing (“Crazy Little Thing Called Love”) were in order. We are quite pleased with ourselves.

So here’s what’s going to happen: Below are three close-ups of the tags. Your mission: find them. The first people to snag a photo of each will get a coffee/lunch/milkshake from Smoky Row — my treat. Tweet me or send me your photo via email and we’ll talk. Happy hunting!

P.S. Stay tuned. There are hilarious videos of tonight’s exploits you really shouldn’t miss.

Rain (And welcome!)

Before I moved to Des Moines, rain was the most ephemeral thing I knew. Wyoming rain lasts about 13 minutes. (It can’t even make a whole quarter hour.) Little did I know. Real rain is NOT fleeting. Rivers (Tiber-esque rivers, people) were running down the street outside my apartment. I had to precariously jump over puddles with my 39-pound, pink-striped Andy Warhol Campbell’s soup can bag. And let me tell you, that is not easy to do and keep your shoes dry. And if it’s the first time you’ve worn them, you’re just one unlucky sonofabitch.

But actually, I loved it. Rain is still a novelty for me. I love waking up to an overcast sky and getting water on my rain shoes and umbrella. And the best part was this was not ordinary rain. It was warm rain. The BEST for standing in, running in, dancing in, etceraing in. I’m sad it’s over. But such is the nature of an ephemerism.

This blog is a collection of ephemerisms. Short-lived things that kill with their sheer awesomeness. Like rain, obvi (ew. I solemnly swear never to use “obvi” in a sentence ever again. So temporary.) I’m fascinated by the temporary. The most beautiful things are those we try to save –

Yawn, cheesefest. Done and done. It’s total crap when you have to explain your point. So just believe me when I say I have one. A point, that is. It’s probably short and sweet and cynical. But then again, everything’s made up and the points don’t matter are like rain. Ephemeral.

[image via dryicons]