Yah, it's true. After the highs and lows of mulching the world seems boring. Less interesting even. I was going to dedicate a blog to cassaroles but i might stop midway disinterested- i will say however that there should be a delicate marriage of ingredients so that the contents don't over run the glue and vice versa. balance people. balance. heaping chunks of ham are not acceptable. it seperates from the glue and you might as well have ham on the side at that point.
besides that, which i told pen, i flipped out and gave myself bangs. I can't decide if that was a self destructive enterprise or not. rash maybe, but not totally incoherent. and my hair grows fast. that's a plus.
also i had this debate over email with someone regarding various traumas and things involving craft night and church, bcs such things are always related- and it made me flash back to constructing felt banners for church when i was like 11- felt grapevines are by far the best. and they haven't counter-pointed to my counterpoint. i hate that. i mean sure i like to have the final word but it's so very final. and why, when i debate am i paranoid about hurt feelings-- i don't know. they termed their response "rebuttle" so fair play right to take the gloves off? i can't decide. i'd like to think i crushed them with brilliant argumentation which some people call "overthinking" the issue but what i call beating them down until they can't argue their way out of the paper bag they're in. so hard to say.
i will have to think more on the issue and blog further about it. sometimes for instance people say- hey, there mendacious are you going over to XandY. and i say no. and they say, why? that's so unlike you. because dammit they know you. and somehow whatever flimsy excuse you had no longer holds, like i'm tired. I hate crafts, or any art related homage. and they blink at you. but it's not just them it's like 3 other people who have asked you the very same thing- so you have to be honest. and honesty can be complicated. so which would be the least complicated truth, while in reality it's many that came to being in deciding whether yea or nay? and one person accepts the 1st response and the 2nd person opens the messy nugget center and i have to lay all the irrational rational thoughts on the table. and that takes sorting through and involves perhaps erroneous information and then it makes you think about the validity of your own thoughts- checking and rechecking your argumentation, lest you get deducted for straw man arguments or the very juvinille ad hominem attack. and that's when the overthinking begins and that's why you cut your bangs at 11pm with no supervision or why you had 4 oranges in one day or are currently biting your nails and refusing to be productive. and that's where such things like good books or a marathon of law and order save you bcs you can believe in them and it doesn't matter so much if you're insane or have faulty arguments or whether "they" will ever respond, even though you're still waiting- at least, something else is filling up your head, barely but it's there- and you have a whole box of oranges to go through.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Thanksgiving Scene
Per mendacious' request, and before this one slides through the cracks of Thanksgiving Lore:
Okay, so the scene is that we're all sitting down at dinner: penelope, Scott, both sets of our parents, my grandma and Aunt Judy, Uncle Sunny and Auntie Ro (also known as Aunt Rosemary, but Auntie Ro is so much more appropriate in storytelling).
Somehow we get around to the topic of allergies. Scott is allergic to both raw apples and raw potatoes. And plums. They make his throat swell almost instantly. Auntie Ro comments, looking grave, "That's just like anaphylactic shock, like with bees. You need to get an epi-pen."
Certain thoughts begun to buzz in my mind. I'm sitting right across the table from Auntie Ro, and don't want to die laughing, so I busy myself with food. I know she's going to tell The Story, I just do.
Others around the table also comment on the anaphylactic shock idea and a few stories are shared about mowing the lawn and blazing through yellow jacket nests, and who has an epi-pen, etc.
Then Auntie Ro tells her Harrowing Tale, as is inevitable. "Yes," she says. "You really have to be careful."
At this point, I get up from the table and cross over to the fridge, taking a very leisurely amount of time in refilling my glass with ice and water. My face is already completely red, and only the fridge sees my sardonic smile.
"About 10 years ago [good lord, has it been this long?]," says Auntie Ro, "I was stung by a bee--literally, this bee stung me on the face and knocked me down the stairs." Here she inserts a gesture akin to Cosmo Kramer on Seinfeld, demonstrating how he got nailed by 'The Second Spitter.'
She continues: "And my face swelled completely. I had to wrap my head in a scarf, and put on a pair of sunglasses, and go to the drugstore. And the pharmacist told me, 'This is your last chance, you better get an epi-pen. The attacks will only get more serious from here.' So that's why," she finishes, talking to Scott, "You really should consider getting an epi-pen."
Scott's mom interjects, "Yes, you should--in fact, that may be something you already have?"
"Ummmm," says Scott. "I don't know..." he looks over at me inquiringly. I have refilled my glass and have somewhat managed to clear the amusement off my face.
"Nope, we don't," I say.
"Well, that's something you really want to consider," says Auntie Ro.
"Yes," I say, just as gravely and looking directly at Scott. "In case you're ever attacked by an apple."
Okay, so the scene is that we're all sitting down at dinner: penelope, Scott, both sets of our parents, my grandma and Aunt Judy, Uncle Sunny and Auntie Ro (also known as Aunt Rosemary, but Auntie Ro is so much more appropriate in storytelling).
Somehow we get around to the topic of allergies. Scott is allergic to both raw apples and raw potatoes. And plums. They make his throat swell almost instantly. Auntie Ro comments, looking grave, "That's just like anaphylactic shock, like with bees. You need to get an epi-pen."
Certain thoughts begun to buzz in my mind. I'm sitting right across the table from Auntie Ro, and don't want to die laughing, so I busy myself with food. I know she's going to tell The Story, I just do.
Others around the table also comment on the anaphylactic shock idea and a few stories are shared about mowing the lawn and blazing through yellow jacket nests, and who has an epi-pen, etc.
Then Auntie Ro tells her Harrowing Tale, as is inevitable. "Yes," she says. "You really have to be careful."
At this point, I get up from the table and cross over to the fridge, taking a very leisurely amount of time in refilling my glass with ice and water. My face is already completely red, and only the fridge sees my sardonic smile.
"About 10 years ago [good lord, has it been this long?]," says Auntie Ro, "I was stung by a bee--literally, this bee stung me on the face and knocked me down the stairs." Here she inserts a gesture akin to Cosmo Kramer on Seinfeld, demonstrating how he got nailed by 'The Second Spitter.'
She continues: "And my face swelled completely. I had to wrap my head in a scarf, and put on a pair of sunglasses, and go to the drugstore. And the pharmacist told me, 'This is your last chance, you better get an epi-pen. The attacks will only get more serious from here.' So that's why," she finishes, talking to Scott, "You really should consider getting an epi-pen."
Scott's mom interjects, "Yes, you should--in fact, that may be something you already have?"
"Ummmm," says Scott. "I don't know..." he looks over at me inquiringly. I have refilled my glass and have somewhat managed to clear the amusement off my face.
"Nope, we don't," I say.
"Well, that's something you really want to consider," says Auntie Ro.
"Yes," I say, just as gravely and looking directly at Scott. "In case you're ever attacked by an apple."
Monday, November 28, 2005
See, the Plastic People don't have to worry
I've noticed in the past couple of months that all of a sudden I feel Very Strongly about certain things that I never before really considered or addressed. Is this me becoming old, or is it another hormone surge, or am I just finally making up my mind and declaring myself? Here is something I decided over the weekend--
I hate getting my haircut. I really, really do. It's not because I dread getting a bad haircut, though I've had many of those. I've been smart enough in the past few years to pay a little extra for hair stylists that are familiar with terms such as "texturizing," know that "layering" does not equal "mullet," and are adept at cutting straight lines. (Straight lines are extremely important, a fact you don't realize until you come home without them.) I'm also wise enough not to ever go into a place again that has example hair styles on the walls from the 1980s. (Fantastic Sam's in Cary, NC, I'm talking about you. It was a really long year, growing out that disaster.)
The reason I hate haircuts, besides the price, which inevitably jacks up with the hair products they sucker you into, and besides the whole waiting room thing, is that I feel very sorry for the person cutting my hair. I'm not what you would call a "talker." I'm a hard-core introvert who after a few years of living in the South, is fully capable of small talk, but despises it on principle. I'm also really bad at asking people questions about themselves--which is really quite key, a lot of times, because many people really like to talk about themselves, and this can fill up a lot of dead air. I'm not saying it's a bad thing--clearly, I too can ramble on, if only if writing, at great length about my own self. It's just they way we are. But when I'm in the chair getting my hair cut, or shampooed, or styled--I just can't push myself to ask those questions or spout off random facts about myself or TV or the weather to a perfect stranger who cuts so many heads in a week or a day or a month that I doubt they give a crap. But they probably do care about the fact that this chick whose hair they're cutting is virtually a mute, and specializes in one-sentence answers, and rarely, if ever, initiates any sort of conversation. The whole experience is almost unbearable. I'm like a walking Paxil ad. No wonder I wait 6 months between cuts.
So to Rusty, very friendly hair stylist at Hair Plus who did a really great job on Sunday--my profound apologies. And Merry Christmas.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
On Mulch
Mulch Facts
-protects the soil from erosion.
-reduces compaction from the impact of heavy rains.
-conserves moisture, reducing the need for frequent waterings.
-maintains a more even soil temperature.
-prevents weed growth.
-provides a "finished" look to the garden.
-Organic mulches also improve the condition of the soil. As these mulches slowly decompose, they provide organic matter which helps keep the soil loose. This improves root growth, increases the infiltration of water, and also improves the water-holding capacity of the soil. Organic matter is a source of plant nutrients and provides an ideal environment for earthworms and other beneficial soil organisms.
~(from fox valley lawn and garden blog)
-protects the soil from erosion.
-reduces compaction from the impact of heavy rains.
-conserves moisture, reducing the need for frequent waterings.
-maintains a more even soil temperature.
-prevents weed growth.
-provides a "finished" look to the garden.
-Organic mulches also improve the condition of the soil. As these mulches slowly decompose, they provide organic matter which helps keep the soil loose. This improves root growth, increases the infiltration of water, and also improves the water-holding capacity of the soil. Organic matter is a source of plant nutrients and provides an ideal environment for earthworms and other beneficial soil organisms.
~(from fox valley lawn and garden blog)
FREE MULCH
So this is in fact- the wonder of free mulch. and this stuff was fine and fluffy and not too heavy on the wet manure smell. it all felt rather managable-except for the headache and the slight dizzy feeling that comes with sinus something or other. so i was going in at half steam but i'll tell you, i persevered.
So this is in fact- the wonder of free mulch. and this stuff was fine and fluffy and not too heavy on the wet manure smell. it all felt rather managable-except for the headache and the slight dizzy feeling that comes with sinus something or other. so i was going in at half steam but i'll tell you, i persevered.
twas, fine quality mulch
and we labored not once but twice unto lopez canyon and over three days finished the job. my hands are tired. i can't decide if i had the money, if i would want someone else to do this. i think when you give someone else your labor you take a lot for granted. you have no idea what it takes. all the weeding, the tilling, the reaping, the clearing, the nourishing of the soil for winter into spring. maybe...
and we labored not once but twice unto lopez canyon and over three days finished the job. my hands are tired. i can't decide if i had the money, if i would want someone else to do this. i think when you give someone else your labor you take a lot for granted. you have no idea what it takes. all the weeding, the tilling, the reaping, the clearing, the nourishing of the soil for winter into spring. maybe...
ah, the mulched yard
and, i mean i really GET biblical analogies about nature. I mean get it. Hands down. It takes work to maintain land, let alone the soul... That whole analogy of the seed being spread on 4 different types of land KILLS ME everytime. When it says reap and sow- i know how hard that is. That's work. that's not just a picture of a scythe and a peasant or baskets of produce. maybe the problem is more people should labor. i know i should. but look at the color of those roses. that's fantastic. the dead grass we're working on. i think mom's philosophy is that things should die in winter or hybirnate... we have the leafless peach tree and there are some bare patches of mulch so, that's not so much... i guess i can give her dead grass, but if it were me, there'd be more plush opulant grass and vines... and the whole place would be full... mom prefers extremes. we're currently working on balance.
and, i mean i really GET biblical analogies about nature. I mean get it. Hands down. It takes work to maintain land, let alone the soul... That whole analogy of the seed being spread on 4 different types of land KILLS ME everytime. When it says reap and sow- i know how hard that is. That's work. that's not just a picture of a scythe and a peasant or baskets of produce. maybe the problem is more people should labor. i know i should. but look at the color of those roses. that's fantastic. the dead grass we're working on. i think mom's philosophy is that things should die in winter or hybirnate... we have the leafless peach tree and there are some bare patches of mulch so, that's not so much... i guess i can give her dead grass, but if it were me, there'd be more plush opulant grass and vines... and the whole place would be full... mom prefers extremes. we're currently working on balance.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Stuff IT
We currently have much more mulching to do but I will take a break to tell you, briefly, about my thanksgiving. My hair, can I tell you- was apparently a rousing success. I can sit down now and say, yes, holiday well accomplished. Both outfits- one for the family, the next for friends- which had the hair in an updo and then down, both smashing. I will try to find pictures. Oddly, I don't know if I have any digital ones. Whoops.
My aunt and uncles house (moms side): we get there and only my aunt is there. an hour later and my uncle, his brother, their mom show up after silly car problems and a marie callendars pie- apple, into the gated community on top of the hills in altadena. (this side of the family is dying off, there isn't a lot we can do. and with my brother in minnasota, it's a wee small group.) we talk about: the weather, their yard, the turkey- the thanksgiving meal they bought from Vons, which used to be Ralphs but when it burnt down one thanksgiving they went to Vons and never went back. We talk about: coin collecting, their mom's hip-surgery. digital media. 2 politically incorrect word usages: cripple. and. oriental. Observations: white carpet. Meal: chewy pie, decent bird and gravy. Sub par stuffing... think, why the hell aren't mom and i cooking again? I don't remember. I think: time to go. 4 hours. done. Leave with: no leftovers, dvdrom drive, animusic dvd, 1 "reference copy" of HP which might currently be playing somewhere, 3 non specified "reference copies" of non specified movies. and an "I HEART HACKERS" t-shirt, just for fun and for no other reason bcs we don't do that.
Avoid: Dad's side: Mom and dad however soldier on over. They come back with 2 pieces of information, which my mom sort of just grins over- the scarf that my mom knit for my aunt (dad's youngest sister) out of LOVE after some fricking blood vessel burst in her brain and she was laid up and ailing- my aunt thanks her for knitting it (more than a year after the fact) and says she used it for exercise stretches.
There are NO WORDS.
And then proceeds to point out that they're both wearing hawaiian shirts and why? are they going to hawaii? have they just gotten back? har. fucking. har. people.
My friends house: whom I love, and could not do without. 16 or so of us. We did not play bible trivia- as there were a couple in attendence not of the ned flanders persuasion. i told them, another time. We did play trivial pursuit- questions getting lamer or?... we pettered out and let the boys win. Food: rosemary seasoned bird- tasty, stuffing good... not just the way i like it but very well done. (On friday I had prime rib and scalloped potatos which sort of made up for it.) We talked about: ? I don't remember. The crowning event which was in my mind a comedy goldmine- was the sink was backed up, they questioned whether to run the dishwasher and then curiously M opened up the washer/dryer combo (which is dishwasher adjacent) to check on it or?... what! but water gushed all over him, his shoes, and began racing toward the dining room and thru the kitchen. WOOOSH! L said, it's suppose to be on the dry cycle! But apparently the sink had other ideas. We then proceeded, after my fit of laughter, to empty the water out and toss it out the 2nd story window, and towel after towel to mop up the sewy mess. Ha. Ah. Sure it was a pain in the ass for them, but it's one of those genius events that always get thrown into movies specifically during the holidays TOPPED with the evaaal downstairs neighbor - crotchy and mean (but young to throw you off) to COMPLAIN about water- and blaming- not old pipes or a backed up system but yes, their new washer/dryer combo-- I believe she wants it out. And yes, she is going to register a complaint.
So after all that and more beer and wine- we played a game, packed up the leftovers and around 12 i tried to take the remaining chatty cathys with me, but to no avail. I drove home with love and warmth in my heart, not to mention a wry smile for calamities sake- and a friend-family that doesn't make me bubble with hate. Here's to a successful holiday.
My aunt and uncles house (moms side): we get there and only my aunt is there. an hour later and my uncle, his brother, their mom show up after silly car problems and a marie callendars pie- apple, into the gated community on top of the hills in altadena. (this side of the family is dying off, there isn't a lot we can do. and with my brother in minnasota, it's a wee small group.) we talk about: the weather, their yard, the turkey- the thanksgiving meal they bought from Vons, which used to be Ralphs but when it burnt down one thanksgiving they went to Vons and never went back. We talk about: coin collecting, their mom's hip-surgery. digital media. 2 politically incorrect word usages: cripple. and. oriental. Observations: white carpet. Meal: chewy pie, decent bird and gravy. Sub par stuffing... think, why the hell aren't mom and i cooking again? I don't remember. I think: time to go. 4 hours. done. Leave with: no leftovers, dvdrom drive, animusic dvd, 1 "reference copy" of HP which might currently be playing somewhere, 3 non specified "reference copies" of non specified movies. and an "I HEART HACKERS" t-shirt, just for fun and for no other reason bcs we don't do that.
Avoid: Dad's side: Mom and dad however soldier on over. They come back with 2 pieces of information, which my mom sort of just grins over- the scarf that my mom knit for my aunt (dad's youngest sister) out of LOVE after some fricking blood vessel burst in her brain and she was laid up and ailing- my aunt thanks her for knitting it (more than a year after the fact) and says she used it for exercise stretches.
There are NO WORDS.
And then proceeds to point out that they're both wearing hawaiian shirts and why? are they going to hawaii? have they just gotten back? har. fucking. har. people.
My friends house: whom I love, and could not do without. 16 or so of us. We did not play bible trivia- as there were a couple in attendence not of the ned flanders persuasion. i told them, another time. We did play trivial pursuit- questions getting lamer or?... we pettered out and let the boys win. Food: rosemary seasoned bird- tasty, stuffing good... not just the way i like it but very well done. (On friday I had prime rib and scalloped potatos which sort of made up for it.) We talked about: ? I don't remember. The crowning event which was in my mind a comedy goldmine- was the sink was backed up, they questioned whether to run the dishwasher and then curiously M opened up the washer/dryer combo (which is dishwasher adjacent) to check on it or?... what! but water gushed all over him, his shoes, and began racing toward the dining room and thru the kitchen. WOOOSH! L said, it's suppose to be on the dry cycle! But apparently the sink had other ideas. We then proceeded, after my fit of laughter, to empty the water out and toss it out the 2nd story window, and towel after towel to mop up the sewy mess. Ha. Ah. Sure it was a pain in the ass for them, but it's one of those genius events that always get thrown into movies specifically during the holidays TOPPED with the evaaal downstairs neighbor - crotchy and mean (but young to throw you off) to COMPLAIN about water- and blaming- not old pipes or a backed up system but yes, their new washer/dryer combo-- I believe she wants it out. And yes, she is going to register a complaint.
So after all that and more beer and wine- we played a game, packed up the leftovers and around 12 i tried to take the remaining chatty cathys with me, but to no avail. I drove home with love and warmth in my heart, not to mention a wry smile for calamities sake- and a friend-family that doesn't make me bubble with hate. Here's to a successful holiday.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Post-Lurkey Day Randoms
Mmmm, it's officially my favorite time of year. I took three days off this week, then had Thanksgiving and today off, too, but I'm just now starting to feel relaxed. Today's like a Hangover Day, without the hangover. Alas. I suppose achy feet and pretty much achy everything else, off-balancedness, and two months left of pregnancy will have to suffice.
So really I don't know what to blog about either, so I'm going to make a list of the randoms that have popped into my head over the last few days while planning and executing a Thanksgiving Dinner for 10.
1. Reason to celebrate: Successfully planned and executed Thanksgiving Dinner for 10! And everything was tasty, too. And my family even cleaned the kitchen for me before they left. And there are leftovers, too, mmmmm, leftovers. Here is me scooping stuffing from the ginormous bird:
2. Today I've done Officially Nothing, including changing out of pajamas. It is so nice. I watched a few movies, took a nap during one (Team America--must return to later), considered for one tiny moment fighting the post-holiday crowds, and then rejected said idea as pure insanity. Even though those Target commercials with Kermit are terribly cute.
3. I'm back in love with Gilmore Girls. It's not perfect, but when is it ever, really. Rory and Lorelai on speaking terms. Christopher being back, but not to mess things up. The setup for Emily to completely blow a gasket once she finds out about Rory's entire Yale bill being footed. Jokes at Kirk's expense. More than one line allotted to Lane. Logan done and over with. Happy sigh.
4. I'm still sort of hating Ana Lucia on Lost. I mean, when she appears on the screen now, I have managed to refrain from my former "IhateherIhateherIhateher" chant. They've done well with developing character and at least semi-justifying the gigantic chip on her shoulder. But she still killed Shannon. She's still a mega-bitch. She plays with guns entirely too much. I don't know. Maybe next week's episode will do a little more justice to Kate, too. I really want to like that one.
5. I'm finally horrified by the amount of cutting that was done to a Harry Potter book in order to make a movie. Don't get me wrong, I'm all die-hard Potter, and I did love the movie. Daniel Radcliffe (aside from the haircut) is on his way to becoming hot. And I know, I know--cuts have to be made for pacing, for effect, etc. I have always defended the movies in the past. But geez. This book was basically pared down to the three TriWizard tasks and the Yule Ball. No house elfs, no Ludo Bagman, no Dursley's? Wow. And on a side-note, not a big fan of Moody's strap-on magical eye.
6. What in the hell is with those Neo-Nazi twins that have been all over the mag shows like Inside Edition. The last thing I want in my head is a squeaky yet enthusiastic rendition of "Strike Force." For the love of God. I don't even know what else to say about that.
7. Happier subject. The coolest lamp ever now sits on the nursery side table. I pay it visits several times daily:
8. It's now the Countdown to Christmas, yippeeeeeee! Yes, I admit. I'm a total sucker for all things Christmas.
9. And if ever I'm not in the mood to laugh, all I have to do is look at this:
So really I don't know what to blog about either, so I'm going to make a list of the randoms that have popped into my head over the last few days while planning and executing a Thanksgiving Dinner for 10.
1. Reason to celebrate: Successfully planned and executed Thanksgiving Dinner for 10! And everything was tasty, too. And my family even cleaned the kitchen for me before they left. And there are leftovers, too, mmmmm, leftovers. Here is me scooping stuffing from the ginormous bird:
2. Today I've done Officially Nothing, including changing out of pajamas. It is so nice. I watched a few movies, took a nap during one (Team America--must return to later), considered for one tiny moment fighting the post-holiday crowds, and then rejected said idea as pure insanity. Even though those Target commercials with Kermit are terribly cute.
3. I'm back in love with Gilmore Girls. It's not perfect, but when is it ever, really. Rory and Lorelai on speaking terms. Christopher being back, but not to mess things up. The setup for Emily to completely blow a gasket once she finds out about Rory's entire Yale bill being footed. Jokes at Kirk's expense. More than one line allotted to Lane. Logan done and over with. Happy sigh.
4. I'm still sort of hating Ana Lucia on Lost. I mean, when she appears on the screen now, I have managed to refrain from my former "IhateherIhateherIhateher" chant. They've done well with developing character and at least semi-justifying the gigantic chip on her shoulder. But she still killed Shannon. She's still a mega-bitch. She plays with guns entirely too much. I don't know. Maybe next week's episode will do a little more justice to Kate, too. I really want to like that one.
5. I'm finally horrified by the amount of cutting that was done to a Harry Potter book in order to make a movie. Don't get me wrong, I'm all die-hard Potter, and I did love the movie. Daniel Radcliffe (aside from the haircut) is on his way to becoming hot. And I know, I know--cuts have to be made for pacing, for effect, etc. I have always defended the movies in the past. But geez. This book was basically pared down to the three TriWizard tasks and the Yule Ball. No house elfs, no Ludo Bagman, no Dursley's? Wow. And on a side-note, not a big fan of Moody's strap-on magical eye.
6. What in the hell is with those Neo-Nazi twins that have been all over the mag shows like Inside Edition. The last thing I want in my head is a squeaky yet enthusiastic rendition of "Strike Force." For the love of God. I don't even know what else to say about that.
7. Happier subject. The coolest lamp ever now sits on the nursery side table. I pay it visits several times daily:
8. It's now the Countdown to Christmas, yippeeeeeee! Yes, I admit. I'm a total sucker for all things Christmas.
9. And if ever I'm not in the mood to laugh, all I have to do is look at this:
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Happy Thanks.
Well good morning to you blog-nation. I have no idea what to blog about or what the day holds for me. I am actually sort of looking forward to the following things, however: mulching the garden, thanksgiving and completing art projects. It does indeed feel like some sort of holiday. Where the days are infinite and where there's good food coming around the corner. I have feasts lined up thurs-sun. The mood is jubilant.? Well anyway i'm sure i'll have crazy things to blog about tomorrow... maybe. I am going over to relatives house and hilarity always ensues, however i will be avoiding the evaal relatives house. i have my limits. And instead am going over to a friends house later in the day to perhaps play bible trivia circa 1984 and southpark uno. and i will remember to bring the camera. any questions, comments, derisive comments: you know where to find me.
much love,
mendacious.
much love,
mendacious.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
SinsOftheFather
ah zena...
i was quite fond of hercules and zena, the earlier years- and perusing for my media hungry blog i found this pic. there was another very cool one with an "adam" type figure entwined by a snake, but i didn't want to go THAT far back. I wanted to mention what i just this morning found out about the house across the street... 2 deaths. 1 suicide. 1 accidental death. i'm beginning to think the dark nature of the house just got a whole lot darker- According to neighbor and fellow archery affecinado, Pat, who lives a house down from them and has lived there longer than my parents have lived here. While Dad and his manservant John tended to corroded wires on the battery of my car, mom and pat chatted about the goings on across the street. I said, what's with THAT house? And that led me to what I know now. There was a mom, a step-dad and 2 kids. Apparently the step-dad(back in 73) threatened to take pills and kill himself after a vicious fight with his wife. No one checked on him until he was already cold- and everyone else was in the other room. A generation down, a man, let's call him Frank, (who was the son or a cousin of the woman) lived there with his girlfriend, and his girlfriend had an asthma attack and died... pat said all the trouble began with the sawed-off shotgun guy but i informed her that when i was young the weed was high as an elephants eye and apparently the dark waters were already deep by then- so when frank's daughter sam got pregnant by 16 i just shrugged my shoulders and thought- weird how i used to help her count out pennies from a water jug, which she never paid attention to, and coveted her doll clothes. And now she's the one who lives in the house. Although whenever i see them i can't recognize her, with all the cop cars and dorito chips, but i'm looking- and i want to tell her to get out while she can- that or burn the baby down, maybe with some sage and a good soul scrubbing.
i was quite fond of hercules and zena, the earlier years- and perusing for my media hungry blog i found this pic. there was another very cool one with an "adam" type figure entwined by a snake, but i didn't want to go THAT far back. I wanted to mention what i just this morning found out about the house across the street... 2 deaths. 1 suicide. 1 accidental death. i'm beginning to think the dark nature of the house just got a whole lot darker- According to neighbor and fellow archery affecinado, Pat, who lives a house down from them and has lived there longer than my parents have lived here. While Dad and his manservant John tended to corroded wires on the battery of my car, mom and pat chatted about the goings on across the street. I said, what's with THAT house? And that led me to what I know now. There was a mom, a step-dad and 2 kids. Apparently the step-dad(back in 73) threatened to take pills and kill himself after a vicious fight with his wife. No one checked on him until he was already cold- and everyone else was in the other room. A generation down, a man, let's call him Frank, (who was the son or a cousin of the woman) lived there with his girlfriend, and his girlfriend had an asthma attack and died... pat said all the trouble began with the sawed-off shotgun guy but i informed her that when i was young the weed was high as an elephants eye and apparently the dark waters were already deep by then- so when frank's daughter sam got pregnant by 16 i just shrugged my shoulders and thought- weird how i used to help her count out pennies from a water jug, which she never paid attention to, and coveted her doll clothes. And now she's the one who lives in the house. Although whenever i see them i can't recognize her, with all the cop cars and dorito chips, but i'm looking- and i want to tell her to get out while she can- that or burn the baby down, maybe with some sage and a good soul scrubbing.
one-fifteen
In a rare configuration of stars and planets I ended up at Pickwik bowling alley last night. 2 recreational activities in one day, and this one cost me much more. on the credit card. and then asking my 2 friends to shill out so i could have something to eat from the cash only snack bar- it was a killer burger and totally worth it by the way. most of the time i hate spontaneity- i like looking forward to,or conversely dreading, hings and the idea of going anywhere last minute i find unsettling. mainly bcs i have a sedentary personality. i was already comfortably settled in my smoking chair, with book in hand reading about kids who are djinn and thinking about the implications of what genii in the world might be and how really it gives humans no credit at all. but whatever it's a kids book. i was also dressed in my jams and had that warm nested feeling with cup of tea in hand. so it was quite a surprise to all involved that i agreed to go anywhere, let alone bowl- in laser strewn, flashing light land, bcs bowling can not entertain unless it's dark, your drunk, there's loud r&b music and your eyes are blinded occassionally by roving lazers. ah cosmic nights. i bowled abysmally the first round and had a humiliating score of 75... the second round i strangely could not break 9, no splits, no strikes, just 8 after 8, miss, 8... then midway thru release i thought, oh my god- i'm bowling wrong. i've been bowling wrong since i went bowling with the MFA writers in chicago. now imagine, you take the ball, and prop it up- steady with the left, balance on the right, you draw the ball back down and behind you as you approach, and then as the ball comes forward, my hand rotates palm DOWN and i essentially FLICK the ball away from me, down the lane. A- said that she was surprised i was bowling as good as i was- as I turned around and said, you guys wait a second, do you release the ball palm up or palm down- and they looked at me mystified. i guess we should've been watching you closer they said. unbelievable i said. my next 2 were strikes and i got 9 split, with the 1 on the right. nice. and then i won. and then i said, what were not playing again? just when? and now that? i can't test my theory about? what if i still suck? what if i don't ever go bowling again the right way? what if this was my last chance
Saturday, November 19, 2005
rarified Saturday
wake up 7:20.
yawn.
check email.
no email.
read news.
no news.
get ready.
get breakfast from mcds, take dogs.
have dogs avoid water puddle on way to car.
drop dogs off.
eat breakfast on way to archery.
go 85.
watch for cops.
make it in record time.
get gear.
chatter.
talk about people.
more chatter.
life. need for own gear.
chatter.
shoot arrows.
learn vital lesson about pulling with back, not arms.
watch the USC archery team. talk about them w/in earshot.
say, he got cocky- when he missed a shot and all the rest were bullseyes.
talk about politics, art, combat training and thanksgiving.
shoot arrows.
leave.
go for coffee with friend.
chatter.
meet other friend accidently in alley.
go to starbucks.
banana bran muffin. okay.
frappachino. okay.
just like any other day.
strange.
friend shows me store with cheap and awesome jewelry.
contemplate necklace.
go to design within reach.
think, whose reach.
think, this floor was exactly like my grandmothers floor.
pebbles. money. obsession with money. give abundantly, even if you only have grapefruit.
leave.
phone call.
put friend in cell.
phone.
phone.
go to in/out.
feel momentarily guilty about selection.
phone.
tasty fry.
phone.
more tasty fries.
home.
watch rerun of GG.
leave for movie.
meet more friends.
watch corpse bride.
$2.
think about it.
$2...no ads, no wait.
$2.
enjoy.
feel the small town.
be the small town.
5 minute ride back home.
snack.
give dogs bath.
play with the dogs.
check email.
no email.
stare at book.
watch wedding singer.
blog.
stare at book.
stop blogging.
contemplate blog.
make no changes to blog. (liar)
wonder.
more wonder.
resolve.
quench thirst.
turn head toward tv.
yawn.
check email.
no email.
read news.
no news.
get ready.
get breakfast from mcds, take dogs.
have dogs avoid water puddle on way to car.
drop dogs off.
eat breakfast on way to archery.
go 85.
watch for cops.
make it in record time.
get gear.
chatter.
talk about people.
more chatter.
life. need for own gear.
chatter.
shoot arrows.
learn vital lesson about pulling with back, not arms.
watch the USC archery team. talk about them w/in earshot.
say, he got cocky- when he missed a shot and all the rest were bullseyes.
talk about politics, art, combat training and thanksgiving.
shoot arrows.
leave.
go for coffee with friend.
chatter.
meet other friend accidently in alley.
go to starbucks.
banana bran muffin. okay.
frappachino. okay.
just like any other day.
strange.
friend shows me store with cheap and awesome jewelry.
contemplate necklace.
go to design within reach.
think, whose reach.
think, this floor was exactly like my grandmothers floor.
pebbles. money. obsession with money. give abundantly, even if you only have grapefruit.
leave.
phone call.
put friend in cell.
phone.
phone.
go to in/out.
feel momentarily guilty about selection.
phone.
tasty fry.
phone.
more tasty fries.
home.
watch rerun of GG.
leave for movie.
meet more friends.
watch corpse bride.
$2.
think about it.
$2...no ads, no wait.
$2.
enjoy.
feel the small town.
be the small town.
5 minute ride back home.
snack.
give dogs bath.
play with the dogs.
check email.
no email.
stare at book.
watch wedding singer.
blog.
stare at book.
stop blogging.
contemplate blog.
make no changes to blog. (liar)
wonder.
more wonder.
resolve.
quench thirst.
turn head toward tv.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Over 40
i thought maybe after reading the title that i was creating a blog about what to do when you've reached that certain age... or possibly if i'd thought about the "kingdom of heaven" being at hand. but alas no. if you recall from august and my seaweed collecting expeditions that I took topanga canyon over the pass and met with horribly slow ox carts, plaguing my existence and causing my temple vein to bulge. This time it was different- windows down, the lead car was fantastic... music playing. It was an ultimate canyon drive. UNTL the bus. CAME out of NOWHERE... and proceeded to teeter under 30 all the way there. Luckily it was empty and veronica mars was no where to be seen. Plus we were already half way thru the canyon and there were no dramatic, plunging drops, and while pondering what a bus was doing there - we couldn't fault it, not like lame- i can't drive, drivers, who take turns at 10miles an hour. So despite the bus the ride was good and couldn't diminish the vibe- and i arrived at the beach for at least 40 minutes of reading and staring into the abyss, until the warm sun made me wish I'd brought a bathing suit and I abandoned the warm sands for an even better phillycheesesteaksandwich from Dagwoods. My boss, herr director, said eh?! what a life! I thought, yah, it is. A better life maybe if i didn't have anywhere to go after, like work, and dvcam footage of orphans but alas. We can't all have what we want.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
GERRRRRRD.
So last night I might have had an allergic reaction to Target, which I suppose is entirely possible, considering I go there a few times a week, and even though I love it, sometimes it's downright upsetting. Like when too many hostile people in the aisles act like they want you dead? Or when you spend over a hundred dollars and only walk out with 2 bags. And has anyone else ever experienced the Retail Upset-Stomach Phenomenon where you start shopping in a store--usually Barnes & Noble, for some reason--and all of a sudden you feel like you're going to die, maybe because of the stale, recycled air, or the flourescent lighting, or both? Target does that to me every now and then.
More likely, though, it is the hateful return of morning sickness, or acid reflux, or ulcers, or GERD. Whatever it is that makes me vomit. Sigh.
I just wanted to buy some eggs for these really, really tasty chocolate peanut butter cheesecake bars I was going to bake and bring in to the Thanksgiving Potluck today. And also, if I could get an anniversary present for my husband, that would be good. Nothing fancy, since we're a little low on cash these days, trying to save for the little one and all. First-year anniversary gifts are traditionally paper, so I thought I'd go with that. I won't say how, just in case he reads this, but I had a few ideas.
Almost immediately after picking up a basket at the front of the store, however, my stomach started burning. Maybe it was the stupid joke I told myself about choosing a basket instead of a cart, because isn't it bad to put all your eggs in one basket? Har har. Har. Blah. But my stomach hasn't really burned like this in a few months. And I haven't thrown up since I started taking the magical Little Purple Pill called Nexium. It's supposed to HEAL the damage, dammit. So why is it, all of a sudden, that my Evil Nemesis, Vomitousness, has returned?
I had to leave Target as quickly as possible. I just bought the eggs and busted out of there. Then I went home and threw up. Several miserable times. I went to bed instead of watching Lost. I never made my fabulous cheesecake bars. And since I had to bring something in today, I just took the only thing on the shelf that wasn't opened, which was a package of Winter Oreos, with the red middle. Sure, they're an old crowd favorite, and I'm sure they'll go, but still...how lame.
Maybe it was just one day. Maybe it was the fresh red and green peppers that were in the Godfather Salad for Salad Day. Maybe my baby has a full head of hair, which is supposed to cause heartburn, according to the Old Wives, or maybe the baby's just getting too big and pushing everything, including the acid that apparently never diminished after quitting Verizon Wireless, upward. I don't know. But I'm irritated, bitter, and pouty just thinking about it. Because it's Potluck Day, people! And we're going out to a really nice dinner on Sunday. And next week is Thanksgiving! And have I mentioned that I really, really like to eat. I mean, besides the whole sustenance thing, and the eating-for-two thing. I enjoy food to an absurd degree.
And I hate, I hate, I HATE vomiting. I know, who likes vomiting. (Besides Kim.) But I'd rather shove bamboo shoots under my toenails, or something else unimaginably horrid--like watch an America's Funniest Home Videos Marathon, if given the choice.
Wah. You should see how many desserts there are in the kitchen.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
UM
from this random quiltshow
The last 10 minutes of LOST was a total waste.
Random List of ... :
-2 story assignments.1, 1/4 done.
-Lotion on my cudicles (nail care is important) making a mess.
-1 orthopedic "roll" pillow purchased (feeling personally empowered).
-1 dinner at authentic Italian restaurant, 1 taxed hispanic waiter.
-1 unpaid parking ticket, waiting.
-1 after 1 after 1 stupid remake (poseiden adventure)
-1 hour of work tomorrow. Pointless? Possibly. Trip to the Beach, priceless.
-2 to 3 urges a day to give up quest for healthy living, to spend money i don't have, frivilously, to leave the country.
-Told regret for not playing lottery.
-Numerous applications of chapstick.
-See what other Tv shows to waste time on.
-Deside none. Decide, right.
-Sleep.
-Think about what to do differently tomorrow.
The last 10 minutes of LOST was a total waste.
Random List of ... :
-2 story assignments.1, 1/4 done.
-Lotion on my cudicles (nail care is important) making a mess.
-1 orthopedic "roll" pillow purchased (feeling personally empowered).
-1 dinner at authentic Italian restaurant, 1 taxed hispanic waiter.
-1 unpaid parking ticket, waiting.
-1 after 1 after 1 stupid remake (poseiden adventure)
-1 hour of work tomorrow. Pointless? Possibly. Trip to the Beach, priceless.
-2 to 3 urges a day to give up quest for healthy living, to spend money i don't have, frivilously, to leave the country.
-Told regret for not playing lottery.
-Numerous applications of chapstick.
-See what other Tv shows to waste time on.
-Deside none. Decide, right.
-Sleep.
-Think about what to do differently tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
marginally spoiled
do you ever have those days where you fail by half at everything? for instance you're running errands and they only have one ink cartridge, not the 2 you need. and then by the 3rd place you go, searching for some light bulbs- you tragically fail- bcs they're special lightbulbs and you get the wrong one anyway and know you have to return it, then you get weirdly rejected at radioshak and you hate them anyway- and it seems that the day was full of half successes so the whole day seems to extrapolate failure, so why bother getting stamps or doing anything else but wearily, wearily returning home parched for water and protein, to attempt the futile non-necessities of life, and you think thank god my cable is working and i have food in the fridge- and wonder... what was the point of all of it- those stupid things on the list... just to make your world aesthetically harmonious despite logic that tells you they're not important.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Penelope's Deep Question of the Day
There's this new NC driving law they keep advertising for on TV to let you know: give pedestrians the right away and DON'T TURN ON RED if you see one coming. I'm not really sure how this is different from whatever law was in place before, or how it changes the rules of your typical common courtesy in not running people over and/or scaring the bejeezus out of them. I guess a lot of people don't have common courtesy, which is why they would have to make a law. And everyone messes up--I try not to scare people out on the streets, but I know I do, sometimes. And sometimes, it's a little fun.
If you do violate this law, the big thing is that you get 4 points on your license. Points are bad, you don't want them. But what confused me the first several times I saw the commercial--and let's keep in mind that I'm not all with it these days--is, like, how do they determine that you violated the law?
I mean, it occurs to me now that a cop would catch you in the act of blazing through a pedestrian's path, watch the pissed-off and/or terrified pedestrian flip you off, and then proceed to pull you over. But initially, they sort of made it sound like the evidence would be in the dead or injured body. Like, clearly you violated the pedestrian right-away law by turning on red, because there's a bruised, battered, and possibly dead man lying here in the street to prove it.
And for that, shouldn't you be worried about a little bit more than 4 points on your license?
Saturday, November 12, 2005
The Joy of
Before I get to the real meat of the story- which is the joy of a $2 movie, no matter, no MATTER WHAT, i want to tell you about how you think you're okay with something and you've moved past the fact that not getting curtains is making you flip out so you step down from your middlemanagementhell soapbox and then something else happens and you're still flipping out. It's like your emotional button has gotten stuck on irked or accelerate to pissed off in 5seconds and it's clear to you that you're still there in hell or have only progressed to the 7th level of hell or purgatory and haven't made it out of the woods or the maze or wherever it is that you are... but you go to a movie like wallace and gromit: curse of the were-rabbit for $2 and then you try and forget and succeed bcs gromit is so damn cute and the popcorn is adequately buttered and salted and that guy behind you isn't making that much noise and you only paid $2, and why do movie houses all have to be so damn fancy, just show me the movie and let the seats be decent. so let hell burn, it'll still be there. just enjoy the damn movie. bcs you only paid $2 and it makes you feel like you're in a small town which is my whole view of LA anyway, it's just where you go and who you chose to talk to and the neon strip club across the street can be found anywhere, so why not here- why not in the 7th circle of hell- but then you remember the $2 movie and how awesome wallace and gromit look and it doesn't matter so much what was said, but that you hope and pray the $2 movies will continue, and it gives you a little hope and faith, despite the world- that maybe it's not so bad afterall.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Harold? Are we on COPS?
i will do my best to soldier on with the blog despite the horrific posture of Michael Bolton. I wanted to tell you about the Hispanic Gangsters who live across the street. But first let me tell you about the house. i used to play at this house when I was younger- when there were pot forests in the backyard, pot drying on the window sills, and magic in chocolate brownies might mean organic. This was also during the whole DARE campaign to keep kids off drugs- Mommy is this what a pot leaf looks like? As a kid i knew that it was creepy over there- maybe because of the rank pot smell, but more specifically the whole house contained a dark vibe. Since then the original owners have moved out but have retained ownership and rent it out. Except for one couple who had a baby and were trying to get their lives back on track- there have been a series of renters related to or somehow connected to the owners- who all have the cops called to their house- THIS house. The first one that I can recall was a brother or uncle, sort a tujunga white trash vibe. He actually drew the worst heat I've seen there, as there was a police helicopter, 4 cop cars... and they hauled his ass away along with his saw-ed off shot guns and his bags of dope. Good times!
This last group of people started off innocuously enough- young couple with child. Then some response calls started coming in- you get a little worried especially when the LAPD starts coming in 2's and late in the night but not that LATE. And these are just the calls I've been coming home to see. So yesterday the K-9 unit was parked the wrong way on the street. There was 1 remaining cop car and 2 undercover units. 4 cops 1 k-9 cop and 3 girls. I've seen these girls before, they hang out in their pajamas. And they were made to sit in a car and when they got out one girl had a bag of doritos in her hand. If you were made to sit in a car while the cops searched your entire house, cars and backyard with a k-9 unit would you take a bag of doritos with you? Would that be constrewing things a little too normal aka "business as usual"...? Like I guess I'll just snack on this shit because i don't know HOW LONG their going to be??
And i guess despite all the nefarious, off the margain, criminals that seem to inhabit that den of inequity- we have as yet to be on COPS... that would be like finally showcasing my neighborhood for the pretty ghetto it is. Who said I'm not on the wrong side of the tracks. I can tell you where they are.
Meet Michael Bolton
An African Dwarf Frog purchased at Petco yesterday evening, Michael Bolton is having a rough first day at the office. I picked him because he was the acrobat of the bunch, and because the sign said "hardy." We need hardy around here after the recent Search scare. But this, people, is why I never cleaned the fish tank. I don't have good luck with the aquatic creatures. I killed sea monkeys back in '97, for pete's sake, and those aren't even technically alive.
This morning when I went to the kitchen to check on him, he seemed peachy. Several minutes later, however, he flipped onto his back and stayed there for quite some time, despite my pleading and encouragement: "Don't die on me now, Michael Bolton! Don't be dead!" But then he was fine again. I think he might like to lie on his back when he poos. Or maybe he just likes to lie on his back. But he is NOT DEAD. He's had two car trips in less than 24 hours. He's in a completely new environment. The spunk will return, it will.
DO NOT MOCK THE FROG!
HA!
Excerpt from http://allaboutfrogs.org/info/mypets/dwarfs.html:
They swim around a lot, or they like to just float in a very strange position, which I like to call the "Zen position" (i.e. arms and legs spread out and often balancing on one foot as though meditating the deeper meanings of life...) One visitor wrote me recently to tell me that this position actually has a name! It's called "burbling". Occasionally, they float at the top. This is when they are being ULTRA lazy, so they don't have to swim very far when they decide they want to get air. Don't be alarmed if your frogs do this for a couple of hours---it often looks like they are dead but this is not the case. (Just poke them lightly if you're really freaked out, and you'll see that they were just spacing out, not dead!)
They swim around a lot, or they like to just float in a very strange position, which I like to call the "Zen position" (i.e. arms and legs spread out and often balancing on one foot as though meditating the deeper meanings of life...) One visitor wrote me recently to tell me that this position actually has a name! It's called "burbling". Occasionally, they float at the top. This is when they are being ULTRA lazy, so they don't have to swim very far when they decide they want to get air. Don't be alarmed if your frogs do this for a couple of hours---it often looks like they are dead but this is not the case. (Just poke them lightly if you're really freaked out, and you'll see that they were just spacing out, not dead!)
Wednesday, November 9, 2005
Failing
I inherited a work laptop- and i had just learned to love it, despite its Mac status for all the things it could do for me, like post pictures to Blogger easily and I could then sit in my comfortable arm chair and email people and the whole world awaited me, like being able to take it outside, and write my novel. And as my boss was fond of saying, and I gave you a computer... like it's the grail. Like I loved Macs. Like this was a gem of all gems, the kind I now realize it was.
Now however with a couple slams to the ground its viability has been marganilized. Outwardly terrified I went in search of the Mac store, avoiding the Grove and going to my beloved old school Glendale- where a shiny Mac store and an hour and a half wait, awaited me. I signed in with cute foreign boy, thinking he loves mac, this isn't ever going to work. Look at all these people who love macs... said the forlorn PC girl.
I expelled myself into the mall, where I barely venture nowdays- I'm much better off. Really cuts the Lust, Contempt, and Materialism down to a halt when you have no idea what glossy things are out there to desire. I had Panda Express for lunch, regretting instantly that I didn't go to hotdog on the stick, and knowing that I will most likely have to go on an independent trip just to quench my longing for that nostolgic fair. So, so tasty.
Upon rearrival at the Mac store I got bumped up to a whole bunch of no show-giver-uppers. Yes. Thank god. Also, I mental noted that cute foreign boy had spelled my name with two rr's... sigh. Then, cute local boy called my name and he looked at my sad ragged used to be shiny G4 and said, this has been dropped. I looked remiss, and shrugged my shoulders, like isn't there something you can do? Mr. Genius Man? (as i was at the Genius Bar).
After some time and some plugging in and out of various things he actually got out a stethescope. Yes, I'm serious. A bright shiny silver looking stethescope. He listened. He tinkered. He listened again, and in all finality, with his head still inclined, he said, your hard drive is failing. Do you hear it? Do you hear the sound it makes when its on, a loud reticent hum. Yes, I said. It's always done that, I said.
Taking off his stethescope to further pose the reality of the situation to me he said, It's going to die. There's no coming back from this process. It's also possible that the situation is exaserbated due to a loose battery connection, in addition to PMU problem but essentially it has to be replaced. (Nodding my head, and wondering how old my Mac Genius was I asked, So now what?) He said, if we fix it here it's going to cost over $800 so you might as well buy a new one. We do have a consultant that would charge maybe $2-300 dollars to replace the harddrive, check the loose connections...
I thanked him, took his card, slipped off the bar seat and smiled. It wasn't my fault. I might've, perchance, hastened its demise- but it was ailing already- unstable, faulty... close to failing, already expelling the loud hum of last days. I took the news back to my boss, who had that sad look like, there's no way in hell I'm buying YOU a new laptop, but perhaps we can pay $200 to have it fixed. There is no such thing as good timing in regards to death or paying more money for things- rare inevitabilities that cause grief and a shrug of the shoulders.
Now however with a couple slams to the ground its viability has been marganilized. Outwardly terrified I went in search of the Mac store, avoiding the Grove and going to my beloved old school Glendale- where a shiny Mac store and an hour and a half wait, awaited me. I signed in with cute foreign boy, thinking he loves mac, this isn't ever going to work. Look at all these people who love macs... said the forlorn PC girl.
I expelled myself into the mall, where I barely venture nowdays- I'm much better off. Really cuts the Lust, Contempt, and Materialism down to a halt when you have no idea what glossy things are out there to desire. I had Panda Express for lunch, regretting instantly that I didn't go to hotdog on the stick, and knowing that I will most likely have to go on an independent trip just to quench my longing for that nostolgic fair. So, so tasty.
Upon rearrival at the Mac store I got bumped up to a whole bunch of no show-giver-uppers. Yes. Thank god. Also, I mental noted that cute foreign boy had spelled my name with two rr's... sigh. Then, cute local boy called my name and he looked at my sad ragged used to be shiny G4 and said, this has been dropped. I looked remiss, and shrugged my shoulders, like isn't there something you can do? Mr. Genius Man? (as i was at the Genius Bar).
After some time and some plugging in and out of various things he actually got out a stethescope. Yes, I'm serious. A bright shiny silver looking stethescope. He listened. He tinkered. He listened again, and in all finality, with his head still inclined, he said, your hard drive is failing. Do you hear it? Do you hear the sound it makes when its on, a loud reticent hum. Yes, I said. It's always done that, I said.
Taking off his stethescope to further pose the reality of the situation to me he said, It's going to die. There's no coming back from this process. It's also possible that the situation is exaserbated due to a loose battery connection, in addition to PMU problem but essentially it has to be replaced. (Nodding my head, and wondering how old my Mac Genius was I asked, So now what?) He said, if we fix it here it's going to cost over $800 so you might as well buy a new one. We do have a consultant that would charge maybe $2-300 dollars to replace the harddrive, check the loose connections...
I thanked him, took his card, slipped off the bar seat and smiled. It wasn't my fault. I might've, perchance, hastened its demise- but it was ailing already- unstable, faulty... close to failing, already expelling the loud hum of last days. I took the news back to my boss, who had that sad look like, there's no way in hell I'm buying YOU a new laptop, but perhaps we can pay $200 to have it fixed. There is no such thing as good timing in regards to death or paying more money for things- rare inevitabilities that cause grief and a shrug of the shoulders.
Pumpkins Progress
this guy finally broke off the vine. he's technically not ready yet, as you can see by his immature color but it'll continue to ripen and last probably now that it's colder into january. i'll post the 2nd pumpkin when the vine finally dies signally "ready" to "harvest".
Tuesday, November 8, 2005
penelope's vow
Sunday morning I woke up literally on the wrong side of the bed. Except it was the couch, where I sleep regularly now, switching over halfway through the night because for some reason (okay, well duh--baby in the belly), I have this tendency to wake up and not be able to go back to sleep unless I change locations. Sometimes my husband is snoring, but more often he is breathing, and so are the dogs, and occasionally a car will drive by on the street. It's very disturbing, you know.
I don't move to the guest bedroom because it is currently a pit. Not necessarily a bad pit; it just happens to be the designated dumping ground for the all the gift baskets my mom and I have been trying to sell for a few months as a side business. Hopefully one day a regular business, but so far--well. The bed is completely covered with boxes full of these baskets, so you can guess how well it's going. But I have optimism. These baskets are cute, people, and for all occasions!
So I usually move to the couch, which has a nice little chaise on it, which I can sleep, for the most part, comfortably on. I say for the most part because sometimes in my midnight, off-balance, waddling stupor, I trip over a dog bone in the living room, or a shoe, or air, and nearly land myself in-between the chaise and the coffee table, rather than squarely on the couch.
I am so off on a tangent. What I was trying to get to with this blog is that since Sunday, I have been in a BAD MOOD. I have list of tiny reasons, starting with waking up on the wrong side of the chaise, for this new mood. Most of the reasons point to me being extremely shallow, i.e. running out of cute maternity shirts because my belly's getting a lot bigger all of a sudden and I can't wear the stuff I was wearing without my husband calling me Mrs. Federline. Blah. Also, there's the series of bad hair days brought on by the recent increase in temperature and humidity. Every fall I go through this--IT'S NOVEMBER. Did North Carolina not get the memo? GOD. And third, my rings are getting tight. Tight enough that very shortly I may not be able to squeeze them over my swollen knuckles without the use of butter. Which freaks me out--not because this is a long-term condition, because it's clearly not, or even that I won't be able to wear my rings for a few months (which really, really does bother me, but for different reason)--but because it's like Finger Claustrophobia when you're struggling to get them off. Major panic.
I'm just annoyed. Annoyed at everything these past few days. Annoyed at inconsiderate and/or oblivious drivers, annoyed because of the humidity and the shirts, annoyed because I'm tired, annoyed because the brand "babystyle" apparently makes maternity pants for anorexic moms, annoyed because people talk loud, annoyed because my potato soup at lunch yesterday tasted like plastic and I had to throw it out, annoyed because I then had to buy a sub from the deli downstairs, and it had close to half a bottle of dressing slathered on it, and I didn't want to eat out again anyway until we get paid because we have like $17 left in our account. Annoyed because I look annoyed, and feel annoyed, and annoyed because everything I say out loud sounds crabby and aggressive. And annoyed. And there's really no good reason for it.
BLAH! I'm taking a vow of silence.
Post
I can't believe neither of us posted yesterday and everything was going so well- sometimes it's hard to actually formulate thought apart from event based blogging. No events, no blog. You see the quandary. Things don't happen that fast and then your mind starts to wonder what to write about.
Sure I can tell you about yesterday. We're doing a video showcasing 17 adoptable orphans who all need homes- Each step of the post production process has been a wee nightmare- which makes me think SATAN clearly doesn't want us to find homes for these kids. And then finally as we were all starving due to no lunch and it being 4pm- having survived on half an orange and salty peanuts (which made me grateful that i actually think this is horrible) we find out that the text at the very end of the video "MIRACLE" is spelled incorrectly. Who caught it? I did! Miss anti-speller. I said, Guys, please tell me that MIRICLE isn't spelled wrong- and they all blinked and i went, hell. And an hour and a half later I finally went home. We didn't get the copies overnighted and I walked out to a $45 parking ticket (damn street cleaning). Didn't even see it. So my boss says, later that night, so you're donating the money you made to LA County. Yes, Yes I am.
God, get those poor orphans some families.
Sure I can tell you about yesterday. We're doing a video showcasing 17 adoptable orphans who all need homes- Each step of the post production process has been a wee nightmare- which makes me think SATAN clearly doesn't want us to find homes for these kids. And then finally as we were all starving due to no lunch and it being 4pm- having survived on half an orange and salty peanuts (which made me grateful that i actually think this is horrible) we find out that the text at the very end of the video "MIRACLE" is spelled incorrectly. Who caught it? I did! Miss anti-speller. I said, Guys, please tell me that MIRICLE isn't spelled wrong- and they all blinked and i went, hell. And an hour and a half later I finally went home. We didn't get the copies overnighted and I walked out to a $45 parking ticket (damn street cleaning). Didn't even see it. So my boss says, later that night, so you're donating the money you made to LA County. Yes, Yes I am.
God, get those poor orphans some families.
Monday, November 7, 2005
In lieu of yesterday
a poem from last wednesday...
A Book...
An empty ice-filled glass.
Ink bleeding thru the page,
Further thought,
A filled vacancy.
Some ambient rhythm,
ignored.
A frustrated build
in threes.
Cracked night,
Tight shoulders
An expolated sigh
And voices rise.
A Book...
An empty ice-filled glass.
Ink bleeding thru the page,
Further thought,
A filled vacancy.
Some ambient rhythm,
ignored.
A frustrated build
in threes.
Cracked night,
Tight shoulders
An expolated sigh
And voices rise.
Sunday, November 6, 2005
Not FREAKISHLY INTELLIGENT
Sadly, alas- I did not get into Mensa. A blow tempered by the knowledge of its unattainability. But while for a brief moment I believed I belonged, it was beautiful music. In retropspect it's good to not be in the top rungs of intelligence, as it decreases their ability to cope with reality, but if it weren't for the math I might've gotten in. I do believe that was my downfall or perhaps bcs i only got to question 35 in the problem solving category. And further Mensa doesn't tell you where you placed. Cruel. I might feel justified if I had barely gotten in, like in highschool when my guidance counselor said a 3.5 average wasn't good enough. For what? There may be other tests but for now I'll let my mediocre and deplorable spelling abilities rest in the assured fact of their non-eschiloned status. And now I must also turn from my dreams of meeting the man of my dreams by the kitchen table of the Mensa mixer, or not being able to live up to the crushing pressure of abnormality, and coolness. We can't all be physics teachers before we're 25. I blame my upbringing.
MEA CULPA
MEA CULPA
Archers Revisited
It was as good a time as last time...except now i need my own bow and arrows- and a plan. One must always have a plan.
Now this is what I call tasty-fuck.
I think we're starting to scare all of our friends by the fact that we not only own a hutch, but also a 12-piece china set to fill it. So I want to come clean. I paid $99 for the whole thing. I bought it because we're hosting Thanksgiving this year, and we needed at least 10 plates that all matched and didn't look too tacky. After hauling the ginormous box home from Bed, Bath & Beyond yesterday, I have little confidence that I have acheived the latter. I'm trying to convince myself that a) they look "vintage," not tacky and b) who cares. It's plates. Who cares about plates.
Anyway, I don't regret the purchase, at all, I really don't. But I would like to tweak the ad copy provided by the Bed Bath & Beyond website and circular:
Trio T.F. Platinum Band 67-Piece Service Set
This "vintage-like" service for 12 (except for the coffee cups--one will come broken, which you figure will be fine, since you're not allowed to drink caffeine now anyway) set has everything you need to entertain in ghetto-fabulous style. Manufactured by a company called "Compton" (that's not a joke), each piece is made of not dainty-delicate but delicate in a cheap way, yet durable (except for that coffee cup), sorta-mostly white if you squint at it in poor lighting porcelain and is accented with three "beautiful" platinum-esque bands that come, for your convenience and peace of mind, pre-chipped. Now you don't have to worry about being the first one to accidentally put a chip in the bands, like with that "classy, high-priced" china--the work is done for you, and on every single piece! Set will go great with any decor and all occasions--well, maybe just one occasion. And maybe you should have considered paper or plastic--why pose? The food will be good, so who cares. But if you must, consider that this 67-piece set consists of 12 each of the 10 1/2" dinner plate, 7 1/2" salad plate, 8" soup bowl, 8-ounce cup and 6" saucer--that's one freaking huge box of mighty fine china . Also includes one each of the 12" oval platter--no, that's not near big enough for your turkey, but maybe one day when you cook up a game hen, 9" round vegetable bowl, covered sugar bowl, creamer and covered teapot. Hand wash. Because if you don't, those bands will melt clean off, leaving your oh-so-gorgeous china bald.
Friday, November 4, 2005
Chestnut & Front Street Disease
Due to general safety issues with the parking deck behind the library, two blocks away, and also as a special privilege due to the fact that I'm beginning to waddle, I have recently been assigned a new parking spot in the deck on Water Street. One can drive directly into this deck by traversing the corner of Chestnut and Front streets. But look out--the effect is amazing. A sudden onset of retardation seems to inflict nearly every driver crossing this intersection.
Even me--I won't claim to be immune. The first time I drove through there, I had a last-minute blank out on which side of the parking deck it would be appropriate to use, and chose the left. Wrong. Bad idea! Stupid! In America, we keep to the right.
For the rest of the week, I've managed to fight the crippling effects of this disease. But I've witnessed the downfall of others. Most people slow to a 5-mile an hour crawl, for no apparent reason. Others, in more advanced stages, wind down to a full-on halt at the green light. Yes--most tragic--the green light. Even bikers and pedestrians fall victim: a man on his bike lazily creeping into head-on traffic, apparently oblivious. A business man flinging open his car door and stepping out without a single glance at the car careening down this very same path.
Granted, Wilmington seems to cultivate its own special breed of this traffic syndrome, in various forms and degrees, over most of its city streets. However, Chestnut & Front Street Disease seems distinct in its seriousness, its fearsomeness. Medical community, take note!
Do You Know What Lurks Beneath the Surface?
I recommend using a plastic knife or, in a pinch, a coffee stirrer, to find out, because if you don't, you may sorely regret it.
Can I just say, I HATE lemon-filled donuts. I'm hot on bavarian creme donuts, and the two look very much alike. So I'm always very careful. Because on top of getting stuck with a donut I simply can't eat due to its inherent vileness, I can't help taking it as some sort of omen, whether it is or not: This is how my day is going to be. It looked liked a bavarian creme, but it turned out to be a LEMON. The symbolism does not escape me.
Thursday, November 3, 2005
happy monkey
hmmm, what to blog, what to blog. i'm way too content today. no drama. i'm
eating chicken with gravy, my outfit is presentable, i slept for hours and
hours last night... it was nice. what more to say?
Wednesday, November 2, 2005
Morning Carnage
I went to start the car this morning and bits of blood and feather chunks were plastered all over my window. I thought, was it a cat? Was it some sort of macabre prankster? As I did a u-turn i was hoping that all the chunk would blow away and I glanced up into the tree, wondering if maybe it was a crow- but whattya know it was a hawk? or a falcon? I can't really remember what the differentions are. But "peregine falcon" is my fathers guess. eh. whatever. predator. messy morning meal rained down upon my window. the cycle of nature continues. he just stared at me, viewing me perhaps as a curious minimal threat, and wondered what the fascination was, as feathers continued to waft downward.
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Live, from the Wilmington Target
...it's Tuesday Morning!So I only bought a few things this time, because I'm running very low on cash. This time, the money predicament is my fault, entirely, because over the last few weeks I bought a few too many things on ebay, and the amazing deals just added up--books for the baby, a mobile for the crib, etc. Also, I can't seem to stop buying maternity pants, despite my pact to just live with what I have for a few more months. But I still have to use two giant safety pins in order to wear my corduroys from Old Navy, and my jeans from Target give me Saggy Butt, and that looks retarded. I look like a Special Person, like I think elastic pants are Really Cool. Buying new pants was a moral imperative.
This morning I bought Drano for the perpetually-clogged shower, BAM Easy Off for the perpetually could-use-a-little- scrubbing shower (also my fault, I admit), one can of hearty chicken noodle soup for lunch--and on that subject, why does no one make baked potato soup in a can? And if they do, why isn't it sold at Target? I also bought instant mashed potatoes and gravy in a jar to go with tonight's slow-cooker chicken, which this morning I basted with olive oil, salt, pepper, rosemary, and apple sauce. (I LOOOOVE apple sauce.) It will be a low-maintenance meal, to be eaten before watching Gilmore Girls tonight.
It was a remarkably quick journey to the checkout line where, at the early hour, only one lane was open. Odd, though, for Target. The line was about five customers deep, and the roaming cashiers were beginning to notice. The cross-eyed guy with the big scar on his head flipped on his aisle light and blinked over at our long line a few times to indicate that he, too, was now open for business. I had just arrived at the line, but paused a moment in order to give the elderly lady in front of me the opportunity to jump over first. Because you wouldn't shove your grandma out of the way just to be first in line, would you? Also, I was assessing the situation. I knew from prior experience that the cross-eyed guy with the big scar on his head was not the sharpest spoon in the Target drawer. Was it worth it to give up my spot in Aisle 5?
Against better judgment, I jumped. I was first in line, and waited patiently while the cross-eyed, scar-headed guy, David, opened up his register. I had my Cingular Rebate card out and ready to load into the credit card machine as soon as it was ready. Meanwhile, the line was filling up to four deep. David punched in his code on the register. And then punched his code again. And then one more time. Then he starts getting all shifty-eyed and muttering, "Oh nooo," all the while still punching. This couldn't have been good. He was starting to act like Will Forte as the Panicked Customer Service guy, one of my all-time favorite skits, just because I happen to feel the same way pretty much all the time when I have to deal with people at my job.
"Ohhh nooooo." David keeps saying, barely audible. Everyone's starting to look annoyed while David continues to punch in the wrong pin number. Is there a manager around here? Should David, I don't know, ask for help? Maybe?
On the other hand, I'm thinking that if I lose my cool and say something snappy or, more true to my form, grab my basket and huffily relocate back to the other aisle, I will have sealed my fate today in a) doing something extremely retarded at work today, above and beyond typical levels of retardation and b) really annoy a customer in doing so. Or, someone will randomly call me up and start screaming at me, just because. Which inevitably makes me cry. So I keep waiting, silently rooting for David. This is Customer Service Karma we're dealing with here, a very serious business.
Meanwhile, all the people behind me are starting to jump the line again. Another cashier opened up a new aisle. The lady two people back gathers up all her items from the conveyer belt and leaves. The guy behind me clucks his tongue and moves, too. The people behind them are long gone. Which leaves me, solitary as an oyster, die-hard loyal customer to David, King of the Target cash registers.
Finally, finally, he tells the cashier next to him that he's having issues, and she comes over to reset his pin number. We're in business. And just as though nothing had ever happened, as though I had not been standing there for several minutes, very much witness to and part of the scene, David blinks slowly and plunges in with his script: "How are you today? Would you like to apply for a Target Card, saving ten percent on all of your purchases?"
I'm great, I'm fabulous, and yes, David, I really really would, that'd be super.
The Roving Archers.
Despite the fact that you might think this is some sort of musical showtunes group ala "Men in Tights", it IS in fact a society of actual Archers. Some of them the hunting kind... and the olympic hopeful kind.
And every saturday, yes EVERY saturday they donate their time and teach people archery. For free. Yes, for free. You show up, have a free muffin, get your free equipment and take your free lesson. Man, how awesome is that. For FREE.
You bring a friend or two and it's EVEN better. You get to tell Monty Python jokes to make them mess up their shots and then you go to brunch afterwards. The friend to my left was the teachers pet ; ) and the friend on my right found a dance partner in our instructor AND courted the favor of all the lefties on the range. They even both won the balloon popping contest and came home a $1 richer for their time. My only success was that I brought them there and that my grouping was decent. I'll take it.
We arrived at 830am in order to get equipment so we didn't have to share... and i was giddy with excitement. The volunteers we ran into were "dad" types. Funny, a little stern, dry sense of humor- it was so so so refreshing as I have been surrounded of late by people my own age, in my own industry... and I can't tell you how really awesome it was to just hang out with a community of random people who wanted to learn archery. BREATH-OF-FRESH-AIR.
Our instructor gave us his business card- do you know what he does? He builds telescopes?! His actual business title is "Magellan Project Mechanical Engineer"! WHAT! Sweeeet. How f'in cool is that. Not actor, artist, nor director... but engineer. Hey, maybe I'll find my hot mensa guy here.
This whole experience made me want to start seeking out niche groups all over LA. They're there. I want to be in them- Is this my Rushmore?
And every saturday, yes EVERY saturday they donate their time and teach people archery. For free. Yes, for free. You show up, have a free muffin, get your free equipment and take your free lesson. Man, how awesome is that. For FREE.
You bring a friend or two and it's EVEN better. You get to tell Monty Python jokes to make them mess up their shots and then you go to brunch afterwards. The friend to my left was the teachers pet ; ) and the friend on my right found a dance partner in our instructor AND courted the favor of all the lefties on the range. They even both won the balloon popping contest and came home a $1 richer for their time. My only success was that I brought them there and that my grouping was decent. I'll take it.
We arrived at 830am in order to get equipment so we didn't have to share... and i was giddy with excitement. The volunteers we ran into were "dad" types. Funny, a little stern, dry sense of humor- it was so so so refreshing as I have been surrounded of late by people my own age, in my own industry... and I can't tell you how really awesome it was to just hang out with a community of random people who wanted to learn archery. BREATH-OF-FRESH-AIR.
Our instructor gave us his business card- do you know what he does? He builds telescopes?! His actual business title is "Magellan Project Mechanical Engineer"! WHAT! Sweeeet. How f'in cool is that. Not actor, artist, nor director... but engineer. Hey, maybe I'll find my hot mensa guy here.
This whole experience made me want to start seeking out niche groups all over LA. They're there. I want to be in them- Is this my Rushmore?
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