Okay, so resolutions aren't my forte. I'm sure they aren't many people's, in fact. However, I have made one pseudo-resolution for this year: work on the freaking 101/1001. Yeah, I haven't looked at it in a while, but I will be looking at it again soon...I hope.
Oh, okay, let me make another resolution: pay off the hospital bill from Cardo's stay. We just got the bill. We just got my freaking credit cards paid off (that was a fun almost-decade) and now it's like we have another one. So, $200-a-month forever...ugh. However, I'm really not complaining (you thought I was didn't you...okay, maybe I was, but I desist). I still have my loverly partner, so I'll take the bill, thank you.
Felice Anno Nuovo! Happy New Year! Feliz Año Nuevo! Please be safe.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Okay, so resolutions aren't my forte. I'm sure they aren't many people's, in fact. However, I have made one pseudo-resolution for this year: work on the freaking 101/1001. Yeah, I haven't looked at it in a while, but I will be looking at it again soon...I hope.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Okay, so I'm finally getting around to responding to the meme sent me by Coach J. I'll respond, but I won't pass it on to others. Rather, I'll leave an open invitation to any who desire to share with the group. (This is mainly because most of the people I know with blogs have been tagged by J already. It is also because I'm so weirdly bad at asking others to do things.)
The rules (most of which I will ignore):
Here are "the rules":
1.Link to the person who tagged you.
2.Post the rules on your blog.
3.Write six random things about yourself.
4.Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5.Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6.Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
1. When I'm reading something and the number of words in a phrase is mentioned, I always have to count the words, just to be sure. So, if I read "'The baby isn't yours!' she screamed and those four words echoed in his head," I have to count the four words she screamed. [Don't ask why the example. Nothing autobiographical, thanks much.]
2. Every time a bird flies over my head, I feel compelled to look up at it. However, every time I do this, my first thought is always, "That bird is going to crap on my upturned face." To date, I have not had a bird defecate on my face (or any other body part, that I can recall, at least). [I just knocked on my wooden desk. I also just typed "wooded." Yes, on my desk grows a tiny forest...or not.]
3. I sometimes wear my wedding ring on my right hand -- as I'm doing now -- because I just don't feel balanced if my ring is always on my left hand.
4. I have this weird inability to give up old favorites. It's like I feel like a traitor or something. For example, for a long time The Little Mermaid was my favorite Disney animated flick. [Oh, powers that be, I just typed "was."] I really think it had a lot to do with the fact that Ariel is also a redhead. However, interweb, I'm admitting to you, for the first time outside of my head, that The Little Mermaid is no longer my favorite animated Disney flick. Beauty and the Beast is. I so much more identify with Belle who could read for millions of hours on end. And, when the Beast (who never gets a real name), presents her with his library...that's what I'm talkin' about. [I refuse to acknowledge anything more than the existence of sequels and prequels and in-the-middle-quels of Disney flicks. They can bite me.]
5. I have a collection of saved Simplicity patterns in a desktop file even though I can't sew. Well, I think I can't at least. I learned this fine craft about a decade ago. My very own mamma is set to teach me after I crawl up out of the blackness that will be next semester, though. Maybe I'll have a tangible purpose for those patterns in the end.
6. I can sing the entire theme song to Charles in Charge without prompting. So the singing isn't pretty, but that doesn't change the fact that I know the words. I have no idea why this theme song has stuck in my head over the years, but it has.
P.S. The strange thing is that I wrote out responses for this back when the semester was still in, but I just didn't get around to typing them up and fleshing them out. Yeah, I'm lazy like that.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
I forgot to mention that Pic and I visited the Arlington Gardens Mall for the first time last week. We were looking for gifts for her teachers and didn't find anything suitable-seeming at Sundance (I have no idea what they enjoy reading in their free time). I was heading over to Target after that, but, on impulse, I decided that we should check out the Arlington mall, first, just in case. We ended up buying a personalized tree ornament and a lovely-sized, cute coffee mug for each of her teachers. The prices were good, but, even better, the service was excellent.
The woman who runs (owns?) Wedding Style had another little shop in front where she was selling seasonal merchandise. She was excellent with Pic. (Too often, people are quick to rush over and admonish her for thinking about touching something. "Back off people. If she breaks it, I'll pay for it. She's curious, but amazingly gentle.") We left Pic's teachers' names and then walked around a bit. The sign said the wait would be an hour, but the shopkeeper halved the time (business wasn't exactly booming on a weekday, two days before Christtide). The mall is tiny, maybe four shops and and restaurant, but I'm pretty sure we'll go back when we need more gifts. We went to the spa-shop-place (I can't quite remember exactly what it was, obviously) in the back and the woman working the desk bestowed Pic with two faerie* kisses, one on her hand (that had been earlier stamped by the lovely Ms Judy from storytime) and one on her cheek. Pic was ecstatic about this. We bought a faerie pen there.
We went back to pick up the ornaments and ended up also buying the mugs and a couple of holiday cards there.
The shopkeeper's middle-school-aged son was off school for winter break and he was helping out in the store. He had fantastic manners. He was polite to both me and Pic and I'd love if Pic ends up nearly as nice as he is. The shopkeeper (sorry, I don't know her name) discreetly asked if Pic could have a candy cane treat and I said yes. I was expecting one of those mini candy canes, but Pic was given a Christmas-tree-shaped candy cane confection that had a gummy Santa perched on top. It was the size of an ornament.
I like Target okay, but local's definitely better and, in this case, local's definitely and tremendously way better. I'd recommend a stop there if you feel so inclined to buy someone a gift...or plan a wedding.
* Ah, Spenser.
P.S. I'll post pictures as soon as I figure out how to do this. I'm not sure where the camera cable thing is, nor am I sure that I'll be successful with the transfer.
P.P.S. Her name is Roxana! I'm a genius. Or, I looked up the mall with the mind-numbingly easy Google. Yeah.
So, because I'm weirdly, morbidly thinking about death again a lot lately, I bought The Berenstain Bears Lose a Friend at Sundance today. And then, I read it to Pic tonight. Why I thought this would be a decent idea, I'm not exactly sure. I'm not really sure how you introduce the topic to a three-year-old...especially when no one close to us has recently died.
She was upset about what had happened to the fish (pet-death, not bear-friend-death) and she insisted that I reread certain parts to her a couple of extra times. It is usually the case that after I read a book to her, she peruses it herself, but this perusal was different, more intent. She repeatedly asked me, "What happened?" and "Why?" I told her that Goldie had died and it was just a natural part of the cycle of life. I explained to her what I think happens after the we that we currently are die (dies? I've confused myself here with the singular/plural agreement...is "the we" singular?). She just kept asking me, "Why?"
And, I have no really good answers for her. I get into this obsessive trip about death and my fears sometimes overwhelm me. Occasionally, I have this weird apprehension that, hey, what if I'm dead already and I just don't realize it? I can never satisfactorily answer this for myself, though.
Anyhow, I explained as well as I could and then we read Amelia Bedelia and the Christmas List (not as good as the classic Amelia Bedelia books, but it worked well enough). Regardless, Pic's probably having nightmares right now. I'm a fantabulous mamma, I know.
By the way, though, she did not react nearly as strongly to Nana Upstairs and Nana Downstairs (one of my favorite books from when I was little...I was strangely drawn to it).
In somewhat related non-news, I'm currently rereading Thomas Tryon's The Other.* It's probably been almost a decade since I last read it. This might have something to do with the sombre mood.
In totally unrelated non-news, the "Knowledge Center" said** I owed it $75. The next e-mail from the "KC" was an oops-just-kidding one and thanks be because I already have a special dislike for the home of EMERAC.
* Get a load of the price tag on this. Perhaps I should sell mine after I finish it again. Eh, it's not that nice, though...just a musty old paperback (my favorite kind for pleasure-reading).
**Because, you know, it can send out e-mails. Either that, or I can occasionally employ synedoche...even if I pronounced it sin-ek-doshe, for a good few months when I first came across it a few years ago.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I have a feeling my high school calc teacher would love this. Believe you me, you should have seen our final that year...it was great.
Thanks to the abfab sweetney, once again, for ferreting this out.
...and a bit of wishful thinking, I suppose.
P.S. This is especially for Coach J. You're welcome.
Monday, December 22, 2008
I was recently talking to my sister about feeling like this horrible stereotype of a wife: The Nagging Wife. I'm constantly trying to get Cardo to do excruciating things, like close the utensil drawer once he's extracted his utensil of choice or rinse his dishes when he's finished eating. I hate to listen to me, but I'm hoping one day all of the nagging will amount to something.
However, I'm suddenly starting to embrace this Nagging Wife personality, because, sure as I'm sittin' here, I'm never going to be The Surrendered Wife.
Just a small excerpt:
Compassionate and practical, The Surrendered Wife is a step-by-step guide that teaches women how to:
Give up unnecessary control and responsibility
Express their needs while also respecting their husband's choices
Resist the temptation to criticize, belittle or dismiss their husbands
Trust their husbands in every aspect of marriage - from sexual to financial...and more.
I DON'T THINK SO!
I was just miniranting to Cardo earlier about the ultimate docility of Kate/Lilli at the end of Kiss Me Kate (sometimes my feminist filter is unturnoffable [score one for word creation]).
I might seem quiet to some and I have a severe aversion to most conflict, but I'm pretty healthily undocile in my marriage, thank you very much. I like to think that this means that I'm so entirely comfortable with Cardo that I can be my usually bitchy self around him when the need arises.
I'm also reading the archives of finslippy and this is from one of her October '06 posts. I've not mentioned this here before, but I freaking love this woman's writing. So, so good. How have I lived all of this time without it?
I'm still mucking* through the sweetney archives (I think I can finish them by the end of this winter break) and I found this back in October of '06.
The site is "The Nietzsche Family Circus" in which a Nietzsche quote is randomly paired with a Family Circus image. This is the first one presented to me.
* I was going to type "trolling through..." but trolling has a completely different connotation here in the blogosphere, so you're stuck with "mucking" because that's all I've got, people.
P.S. In case you desired some somewhat pointless random information, I could only copy the graphic, so I typed in the quote myself, but I double-checked it, no worries.
...I'm dropping out.
...I'm turning in my license.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Yep, it's true. We made and ate an entire meal at home. Cardo made ceviche with tuna and avocado. We ate this on saltines because that's how we always eat it. He also made guacamole ('my baby loves me, yes, yes he does'). I smashed up the black beans, because I'm a kitchen goddess.
After dinner, Pic and I made sugar cookies for solstice. They were going to be in the shape of moons, but Cardo helped cut the cookies and then fled the kitchen before anything creative happened. So, yeah, they ended up being circles (yes, still the shape of the moon, but I had a crescent in mind as the more recognizable of the specifically-moon shapes). The cookies looked a bit (or more) a mess, but the icing helped hide that. The icing is just royal icing, which I don't exactly love. It tastes, amazingly enough, like confectioner's/powdered/10x sugar to me. Maybe it's a bit better than that confectioner's-sugar-and-milk icing (which I'm pretty sure has a name that I just can't recall at the moment), but I'm not sure. Anyhow, the icing is pretty good on the cookies, but not so much off of the cookies.
These are the best sugar cookies I've ever made. Okay, so that's not saying much, and I don't want to devalue the cookies or what have you. I have a hard time with sugar cookies. I remember my mom's being so good, but on the few times I tried to duplicate her recipes, all failure broke loose. The cookie dough was always too hard and too dry for me to do much with and I always ended up burning the cookies. I used Katie's recipe [technically her friend's recipe, I suppose] from Good Things Catered. Almond extract and lemon zest...mmm. The dough was beautifully soft, although it probably took me a good three or four times the amount of time it would take anyone else to make the cookies (Pic was helping me, which slows me down a bit, but I'm a really painfully slow baker). And, the cookies really were easy to make. We need a better surface for rolling out the dough, though. When I was growing up, we had a built-in wooden cutting board in our counter. We always used that when rolling out cookie dough or biscuit dough or whatnot. Here, at the apartment, though, we just have the linoleum-like counter tops (I really haven't much clue what they're made of, but linoleum sounds right).
Anyhow, I can't even follow my train of though anymore and I hear the opening to The 10th Kingdom in the other room. Apparently Cardo is sitting down for a good six hours worth of television and I might go join him a bit (especially if he's out of the pissy snit he's been in for the last two days).
Happy Solstice! (Nothing says solstice like a periwinkle dinosaur, right?)
P.S. I apologize for the sucky pictures. We didn't find the camera until hours after dinner and cookie prep. The icing was supposed to be dark blue (night, darkness, ecc), but I got impatient, added a bit of red and ended up with something resembling periwinkle, though you'd never guess it from these pictures, I understand.
I think Pic and I might make some sugar cookies. If all comes out okay, I'll find a camera and post a picture. (I know, I've sucked with the food posts lately, but it was the end of the semester, 'nuf said.)
Um, I'm not sure why the video (and I'm especially iffy on that picture the video is frozen on before you play it...the picture I can see at least), but here you go:
And, for those of you who celebrate Christmas:
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Okay, so I know that I keep bandying about the term 'sterility' and I know that it sounds harsh and horrible, but I mean it in a light-hearted way. I'm not sure why I have to make a joke of it. Possibly because this is what I do, I make jokes, no matter how bad they may be.
Anyhow, yesterday was not only my parents twenty-eighth wedding anniversary (congrats!...yes, I called them, this isn't how I'm sending along my only felicitations), but also the day of Cardo's and my tubal ligation consulation. Dr D talked us through the whole procedure. It's an outpatient endoscopic procedure. The results are immediate. When Dr D asked about the reason for our visit, confirming we were there to talk about a tubal, I firmly confirmed and he let it go at that. I was expecting him to try to talk me out of it, to remind me, as so many others have, that I'm young, I only have one kid, I'm cutting off (or cauterizing up) my options. While he did later affirm that this was a permanent decision, he didn't try to talk me out of it. I want to believe that it was because I was so adamant about wanting the procedure. The only thing I had been worried about was whether I'd have to take hormones for the rest of eternity. Dr D told me that as long as I have my ovaries, I won't need to take hormones.
So, the appointment is being set by the surgery scheduler.
I'm nervous because this is surgery and I've never before had surgery. As Poke mentioned in our forever-long and much-needed chat earlier, I'm not afraid of the pain, I'm afraid of the procedure. I've never understood how people can undergo surgery and live. I'm pretty sure that if I just cut open Cardo's navel, I might do some serious harm. However, Dr D is going to make an incision in my bellybutton, insert the endoscope and go to work. I'll get there in the morning and be out by noon, he says (of course, no guarantees, but I'm seriously hoping everything is textbook and clockwork and fine and dandy). He says I'll probably have abdominal discomfort for a day or two but they'll send me home with painkillers.
Okay, so I'm nervous about it, but we're too worried about Cardo's heart for him to have a vasectomy (it has to do with possible infection, because, yes, I know his heart and his testes* are relatively far apart). So, please help me keep calm about this, even if it's only in thought. Grazie mille.
* Once, while we were in high school, Poke's mom left her a note that we swear said "Good luck on your testes."
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Another gem from sweetney. It's actually scary how much this resembles my own home. Jeez, I'm just that good (or Stepford-y).
Seriously. Okay, so "gem" is, obviously not the right term. This makes me want to shoot myself and I think I might have shot myself (or stuck my head in the oven) had I been this wifely person in 1955. This is so not how my life works and thanks be for that because I'd have to change my stance on drinking and drugs. I'd need some Mother's Little Helper if this is what was expected.
I was tempted to respond to each bullet-point, but they're all just so ridiculous. I think they forgot to mention one: He is a god, deal with it. Isn't that just the general gist here?
P.S. You might want to prepare a snack for your lord and master to take to work with him. Why not Bacon Snack Bars? I can't tell if this recipe is a joke or not. (Tang, the drink the astronauts took to the moon. Astronauts? To the moon? Yuk, yuk, yuk!...nevermind.) [Again, thanks to sweetney, whence I stole the link.]
I was sitting in a Starbucks* today, working on student portfolios and my own very last paper of the semester, sipping on my non-coffee beverage, when I noticed a woman who seemed to be heading to my car. I thought, "Maybe she's going to the SUV parked on the other side of my car?" but no. Carefully toting her coffee and her keys, making her way across the somewhat icy parking lot, she stopped at my driver's side door. She reached her key toward the lock when realization lit up her face. I imagine the thoughts running through her head as follows: "Huh, something's not quite right here. How did my car get to be such a pigsty inside? Wait, do I have a kid needing a carseat and thirty picture books stuffed into the seat pockets? So not my car."
On my way home from said establishment, I was listening to NPR. There was a story about fragrances. I don't buy or wear perfumes, colognes, body sprays and whatnot, mainly because I don't like most of them and I think, "What's the point of spending all this money on animal fat and musk sac combinations?"** However, I can now spend $3.99 on Burger King body spray, Flame,*** which boasts the slogan, "The scent of seduction with a hint of flame-broiled meat." Seriously, who is this for? I must say that none of the interviewees could smell the meat, though.
I also learned that Hummer and (Ford) Mustang have scents. None of this is incentive for me to want to buy fragrances.
Oh, and the burger story reminds me that "we" (in quotes because I do not include myself here), at my school, are proud to offer the Quint, a burger with five meat patties. Um...blech. Just the thought of that makes me dry heave a bit.
* I used to hang out and sip non-coffee beverages and do school-type things at The Purple Bean Too, previously Bean Me Up, but both that coffeehouse and the restaurant next door have closed in recent months. Freaking economy.
** I'm sure I buy plenty of other things with equally gross or questionable ingredients, though. Like mascara maybe. I actually have no idea what's in mascara.
*** Just a warning: If you keep clicking on the spray bottle, you get to this seriously disturbing image of that King guy who freaks me out no matter what, even when he's fully clothed.
Cake Wrecks totally cracked me up today. You should check it out. The end.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I was somewhat mesmerized by this [via the abfab sweetney]:
Oh, oh, and here they are again:
[And, yes, I realize that I'm probably the last person in the youtube-viewing universe to have seen this, but...ah, well.]
Whether I like it or not (and, believe you me, it's the 'or not'), I constantly have Christmasy music stuck in my head these days. However, I think I might be making up some of the lines as I go along. Please tell me these aren't the right lyrics:
Giddy-up jingle horse
Put up a fight
[mumble, mumble, mumble]
Mix and mingle and jingly-jing
In the frosty air
I keep singing this like it's a part of "Jingle Bell Rock." Oh, speaking of that song...it always reminds me of Home Alone. And, speaking of...we actually watched Home Alone the other night. It's amazing the things we'll watch when we only have about five channels.
P.S. Thanks for the moral support on that last post. I'm sure Cardo loves the phone calls at work where he can't possibly help me. However, the chains are off and all is well...until the oil needs changing or something.
There's a reason I'm a huge dork who reads instructions on everything. That reason, today, is tire chains. Yesterday, I seemed to be the only person in town with chains on my tires (Cardo put them on late Sunday night, because he loves me (yeah, yeah, yeah)), but I wasn't going to drive with them on today. Okay, so it turns out I wasn't going to drive anywhere today.
I unhooked the chains and backed up my car, to release the chains. Pic and I got out to check. The plan was to pick up the chains and unceremoniously throw them back in their plastic case. It wasn't to be. I didn't fully unhook them and now they're stuck.
I can't come near to explaining how completely idiotic I feel about this. I called Cardo, almost in tears of frustration and anger, and told him he would have to help me fix the stupid situation when he got home. I really feel stupid. I feel like a stereotypical girl (definitely 'girl' and not 'woman') who has to have a guy come and rescue her from this mess she's made. (Stereotypical guys don't need help with these kinds of things. They need help with things like sewing buttons and creating birthday cakes...I'm not much help there either.) Ugh. I hate stereotypes and I hate fulfilling them.
Okay, so I just thought I'd share, get this off my chest, because 'talking about it' is what girls do, right?
Monday, December 15, 2008
I'm weirdly nervous and anxious when it comes to driving in the snow. Well, it isn't actually so much the snow, but the ice. I hate the ice. I don't know anyone who particularly likes driving on ice, I must say, but just the thought of it makes my stomach squeeze up into a twisty little ball.
I'm looking out the window right now (yes, as I type this) and it's snowing out there, baby. I made it to school without much more than a bit of sliding around. Last night, Cardo put chains on my tires, so I did have that. All of the freaking vibrations caused by the chains made me pretty sick, though. I'd much rather have them than not, so I'll stop complaining about that. However, I won't stop complaining altogether.
I want to go home. I want the sun to come out for a bit and melt some of this. I want to take that reprieve and drive home, get Pic, get back into my pajamas and watch some movies. (Oh crap-on-a-stick, I just remembered that my movies are due back today...I'm thinking they're going to be late.)
I know that there are those who live in places where this so does not count as snow, but, hey, I did most of my growing up in Vegas (yes, much to my chagrin). It snowed, like, once and the snow surely did not stick to the ground. It's really no wonder that driving conditions on days like this make me nervous. I drive a small, two-wheel drive car. Not fun stuff.
So, anyhow, I'm stuck at school all day today. I have a final right now, actually. (I told my students they could use the room for quiet study. No one has taken me up on it...real shocker.) I am hoping that we will get out of class early tonight, but considering the schedule, I don't see how that is going to happen. I might have to leave early anyhow and pick up Pic. Cardo has no chain or snow tires and I'm worried that he won't get to her in time.
Well, here's to visions of warm blankets, cozy fires crackling in hearths and mugs of hot chocolate (maybe even with mini-marshmallows). Also, here's to the crazy hope that it will stop snowing within the hour and clear up somewhat by the time I have to take off again. I hope everyone stays safe and warm.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Well, I have eaten a single piece of peanut butter toast, some tortilla chips, a bean/rice/chicken burrito and a small side of lettuce and tomato today. I'm hungry and debating heading out to the grocery store even though it's the middle of the night almost.
I woke up somewhat late this morning (nine) and didn't have much time to linger over a feast-like breakfast (hence the peanut butter toast...which I did not drop on Pic's head). We finally saw Ms A and Mr J again, after so many weeks of not seeing them. We even remembered to bring their housewarming gift, which has lived with us for some months. (Their joint birthday gift -- we're relatively not-rich and they share a birthday month -- remains an inhabitant of La Casa B, though. Oops.) We all met up at the climbing gym and we took Pic climbing for the first time. She loved it! It was great to see her scale the wall and then learn to come back down. She does this frog-legged descent thing which cracks me up. She was good for probably over an hour before she was ready to do something else (namely, run underneath another climber and then proceed to have a meltdown...quickly followed by me also having a meltdown). We didn't bring the camera (who knows where that is in this moving-in madness?) but Cardo did get a picture with his camera phone. I just hope we can figure out how to get that picture onto the computer somehow. We're starting her early and I'm hoping she'll stay hooked because this is a great family (and friend) activity. I never thought that I'd be a climber, and, well, I'm not yet, but I may call myself one someday. Pic has inherited this natural ability (dare I say, or even talent) from Cardo, which is nice.
After climbing, Cardo, Pic and I ate lunch. When we got back home, I curled under some blankets on the couch and listened to National Treasure (which Cardo was watching). I woke up and decided that my uterus hates me and wants me to die, so I went back to sleep. Once I finally dragged myself up (sleep, unfortunate as it is to learn, does not cure cramps), Cardo curled up on the couch to sleep. He's been there for almost five hours now. He'll be up at some ungodly hour, unable to get back to sleep. I'm actually kind of waiting for him to get up so we can eat some freaking dinner in the middle of the freaking night.
I just got off the phone with my sister. I had called to wish my nephew "Happy Birthday!" but he is at a concert with Uncle B. It was great to talk to Auntie L, though, especially because we haven't talked in so long. She was making a kitchen masterpiece (my niece said the chef-d'oeuvre* looked like someone threw up on it...I'll give more detail after tomorrow). We also discussed Trader Joe's. Oh how I miss Trader Joe's. I haven't been in so long, but a trip is imminent. I need toothpaste, shampoo and facewash. And think of all the ridiculously yummy food I could buy. Okay, now I'm sufficiently hungry. I think I'll head over to the store and then come back here and watch an episode of Murder, She Wrote and think about sleeping later.
* I have a 'word-of-the-day' screen saver and this term was from a few days ago.
Friday, December 12, 2008
We'll see how and if the full moon affects the performance tonight. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
I think we're going to go ahead with the Netflix deal. I'm strangely giddy with the possibilities. We don't need satellite here! Okay, so I think I'll be wasting tons of time very shortly creating a queue of movies/television shows I want to rent. And, hey, even if we get the most expensive plan, it's still cheaper than the satellite.
Okay, so I have to go finish getting ready. I already had to don some pants because someone not looking for me just came to the door. I actually first debated whether I could answer the door wearing only my boyish underwear and oversized t-shirt, but, well, my t-shirt isn't that big.
I'm debating wearing a dress tonight, but I might freeze somewhat to death and I can't get much done if I'm somewhat dead, now can I? Also, there's the issue of shoes. Argh. If other people could just refrain from looking at me, life would be so much easier.
P.S. YEA for internet at home!! (Excessive capitalization and multiple exclamation points, oh my.)
Okay, so the move is over. Well, as long as you count many of our items still living in the various boxes piled around the apartment as a move being over.
Anyhow, I haven't had internet access at home since Monday, and I'm still waiting. I've been pretty calm about this. It's not like I don't have eight-three million other things I need to be doing aside from checking blogs. But checking blogs is waaay more fun, for the most part.
Last night was opening night of The Alchemist. Tonight is closing night. I'd like to say that last night went off without a hitch, but, hello, it's theatre. So, yes, there were hitches. Some forgotten lines, a broken set piece, a mispronounced line that was repeated four times (just to make me cringe every time, no doubt). However, there was also the adlibbing. The adlibbing was great and funny and just completely proved that no matter how much they complained about not understanding Jonson, they really do.
I think tonight will be a lot more packed. I just got confirmation that two more people will try to make it.
This semester is finally winding down. I have one paper and two classes worth of grades due next week. I have to finish my writing sample and personal statements and get applications in for next year (so entirely not my idea of fun in any way).
I just want to be finished, finish moving in and take about ninety hours worth of naps. Hahahaha...not ever going to happen. Ah, well.
So, I hope to see more people at the show tonight. Have a great weekend all. Oh, and keep your fingers crossed, please, that we have home internet access by noon, as we were told we would. [I totally just typed 'wood' there. Maybe I should take a nap now.]
P.S. We also no longer have satellite service at our apartment. We don't want cable. So, we get a few channels and that's it. I'm pretty happy as long as we get PBS. I'll miss TLC (for What Not to Wear) and USA (for Monk and Psych), but I'll get over it. Cardo will miss the Discovery Channel and the History Channel, but he'll get over it, I hope. We are thinking about subscribing to NetFlix. Any thoughts on the service? Thanks.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The move is still on and going pretty strong. Okay, well, maybe not that strong. There isn't much left to do. Mainly cleaning and moving two more biggish things that I can't fit into my car.
It's weird being in the new place. Last night, I told Cardo that I felt like we were in a hotel room (although larger than any hotel room I've ever been in). He looked at me quizzically (really) and I had to explain that it didn't feel like we were "home" yet. I figure we'll be moving relatively soon anyhow, so what will I do if this does start to feel like home? SSDD, right? Yep.
The move has been interesting. I have been finding stuff in weird random places (like my one pair of skimpy little panties in the middle of the floor or Cardo's slippers mixed in with Pic's toys). Also, I have been not finding other things (like my phone charger -- I will be without telephonic [yeah, yeah, not a word, I don't think] devices tomorrow as my cell will be dead and our stupid telephone service provider's systems were down when we tried to transfer service before the weekend got underway).
Tomorrow will be a freaking longer than long day. I only teach one of my classes, but I have to present a paper. Be prepared for hugely unspectacularness. I am still composing. Yippie-chi!* Cardo was surprised when I told hime I needed today to compose. He wanted me to clean out the kitchen in the old place and I told him, "Okay, but then I have to work on my paper." He looked at me, shock writ large on his face, and said, "I'll just do it then." Okay, butthead, nice mastering of the old guilt-trip. So, I took a few hours out to gather crap from the old place and move it to the new one. After school tomorrow, I'll clean the old place so we can give back our keys Tuesday morning.
I was really worried about the garage and all of the crap in there (including an extra car engine...when I asked Cardo how much it weighed, he told me "Some"). However, we have friends with superpowers. A few of them came over this evening and knocked out that mess in about an hour. Freaking marvelous!
Our apartment still is a disaster zone, but it will be for quite some time, I'm sure. We're both up to Cardo's eyeballs in crap that must be gotten accomplished. Ah, well. Hey, if we never unpack, our next move should be much, much easier. But, we do have to at least unpack the kitchen, though, because I want homecooked food so badly that I've been close to tears several times over the last couple of days. We've been eating out a lot in the last couple of days. Considering our financial status, this means a lot of Taco Bell and El Pollo Loco (all hail the cheap pseudo-Mexican food!).
Well, I have to get back to my paper. CdP awaits me. (I'm writing on Christine de Pizan -- my third subject this semester -- and I've taken to affectionately calling her CdP.)
* This phrase has a story behind it, but it is way more interesting if I just leave it a mystery.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Moving day is upon us. Okay, so it's almost over. I don't have much time to share right now because Cardo is waiting for me to bring the rest of our sheets and some of our food over.
I do have to say, though, that moving in the outfit I wore to graduation isn't all that great. However, when I got back from graduation this morning, the clothes -- and, more importantly, shoes -- I had set aside to do the heavy work in had disappeared. I'll find them in some random bag or box in the next few days, but in the meantime, my feet are going to hate me. While some boots may be made for walkin', the ones I'm relegated to aren't necessarily so.
I'm repeating to myself, "We're alright, we're going to be alright. Everything's alright." Really, I should be subsituting "I'm" for the "we're" because I'm trying to reassure myself that I'm going to get through the next two to six weeks okay. I'm not entirely sure of this though, what with the move, PhD applications, general end-of-semester stuff, planning next semester, beginning my major grad project and just being a mamma, wife, friend, sister, daughter, auntie and me. Argh and ugh.
Okay, Cardo's going to get suspicious, so I should head back.
Boy howdy! [That phrase cracks me up.] Talk about a conversation piece. I wonder how many people would comment on this lapel pin and how many would try to politely avoid glancing its way?
Oh, and here's a link to a vulvalicious pillow. Yes, vulvalicious...their word, not mine.
I got to the first item from Mighty Girl and the second through one of the comments on that post.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Yesterday's One Minute Writer prompt:
If you had $100,000 to give away, to what person(s) or organization(s) would you give it?
Um, duh, the holder of my student loans.
Yes! I finished one of these in much less than one minute. I'm elated. Now, I can sleep. Almost.
Tomorrow is moving day. A couple of days after that is my day to present my still very sketchy paper for class. In a couple of weeks, this semester will be over (thanks be). Not that this affords me a break, but who ever really gets a break? A day after the semester ends is the big sterilization consultation. I'd really just like to have some kind of procedure performed on one of us already.
Much later this month marks the trip to see los suegros (Pic's never met them). Then, off to Monterey? Wouldn't that be loverly? (Just like lots of choc'late for me to eat.)
Ah, and now I must sleep. Or do Pilates.
One of my favorite actors ever...Audrey! (Although not her voice, as she was hoping it would be.)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Okay. (I just typed Olay...bullfighting anyone?).
I am beyond annoyed with the production Coach J and I are a part of right now. We have one week until opening night (and one week and one day until closing night) and lines STILL aren't memorized. Yes, people, STILL.
I am finishing up my other class, which means researching, writing, presenting, blah, blah, blah. I'm also moving on Saturday. And there's also a graduation to attend!
Yesterday, Coach J and I both receieved an e-mail imploring us to attend every outside-of-school-hours rehearsal from here until opening night. Yes, they are freaking out, but, um, hell-the-freak-o, what have you all been doing for the last few months? Sticking to our schedule? No. Learning lines at home? Again, no. Putting a decent amount of effort into this. Not so much.
I shouldn't be too hard, though, because there are a couple of people who have their stuff together. The costume list (by character, act and scene) was ready on time...although it was created by a director and not by the costuming people. The set is getting there. At least one of our main characters has all of her lines memorized, as far as we can tell.
However, the students have also switched out at least three parts to date. We have no idea where the lighting and sound tech is in his process. The programs might or might not be ready and they might or might not have everyone's names (actors, characters, techs) listed properly. Blocking, I think, has finally been figured out.
Well, I have an appointment so I have to stop venting/whining/rambling now. Please, keep your fingers crossed.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
I went to the store to buy some lunch today and I also picked up some pomegranate ice cream. Sounds good, right? I was excited about the prospect of this treat. I was, however, sadly disappointed. It tasted slightly medicinal. Also, there's fish oil -- made from anchovy and sardine -- and fish gel -- made from tilapia.
I know someone who might like to share, though.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
I'm sitting here catching up on general blogosphere goodness (read Coach J's comment on my last post...hilarious). I can hear some History Channel program behind me. They are discussing the problems with space sex. I've actually never thought of this before.
Okay, back to medievally-rhetoricky stuff.
Monday, December 1, 2008
I'm trying to decide, "Which things can we live without for the next five or more days?" I mean, do we really need the canisters of flour, sugar, coffee and baking soda (yes, baking soda...hi non-toxic cleaning supplies)? Probably not. Do we need paper towels or nine-tenths of our dishes. Nyeh. Do we need our underwear? Okay, so maybe I'm going a bit too far there.
So, I'm off to pack our "fancy dishes" (we got a set of four dinner plates, mugs, saucers and dessert plates at Goodwill for just under $20). Fun, fun stuff.
And, just for 'scuz. I like this song and I'm listening to Celtic Woman on PBS right now.
We had our first round of conference papers tonight. I won't comment on those, but I will dole out a bit of helpful advice. If you are about to sit through about an hour-and-a-half's worth of paper-reading and question-discussing, do not first drink about forty ounces of water.
By the time we got to the final paper, thoughts of my bladder were filling my head. "Just how big do I think my bladder has become? I think it might be pushing on all of my other internal organs and they're pushing back. How rude would it be for me to flee from the room when someone comes to the end of a page?" I sat through all of the papers, but I was extremely uncomfortable, thank you very much.
Also, I kept having stupid thoughts of body language popping up in my head. Because I had to pee so incredibly badly, I just wanted to cross my legs and my arms and squish into a ball, hoping to squeeze in all necessity to relieve myself. However, I was fighting this desire because I read somewhere (not the internet) once that crossing your arms indicates a kind of hostility. This body language indicates that you are unapproachable. Yeah. So. Not one of the readers was looking at me, but in case one might glance my way, I wanted to appear open and receptive to their topics. So, instead of scrunching up into a ball, I constantly fidgeted around in my seat, praying that someone would just read super quickly or that all of that water would miraculously evaporate. Neither happened.
Anyhow, all is well now. Ah. And this post, like just about every other, had no point.
P.S. Congrats Mistress J!
This is one of the Joan Sebastian songs Pic and I were singing to the other morning. I finally took the time to find it.
This is kind of like "There Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly" (or a whole pie).
Sunday, November 30, 2008
One Minute Writer from October 27th:
If you could have one talent that you don't naturally have, what would it be?
Oh so many...but if I have to choose one now, I'd say the gift of song. Where were my good fairies when I was born? I wonder what "gifts" they bestowed on me? The "gift of insomnia"? The "gift of anxiety"? The "gift of total stressballness"?
Yeah, I need to get some sleep. But first! I must finish reading for tomorrow.
[I couldn't end this month with 92 posts. I needed an odd number. I've been thinking a lot about post numbers lately. The gifts of obsession and compulsion?]
I have a question: how did I ever get into grad school in the first place? What is up with all of these stupid applications? Why do I have to apply twice at every place? Can't they make this easier? I feel like this is never going to happen.
I am frustrated.
Also, it's a good thing I'm not some sort of math/engineering/ecc major, because that was not "a" question.
Cardo has been working a lot more nights lately, so I've been making dinner for just Pic and myself. I've been a bit beyond tired this semester so I'm always looking to make something simple and quick.
I've been into the angelhair lately because we have it. So, on Thanksgiving, we made capellini con pomodori e formaggio (ha!...it's just angelhair with tomatoes and cheese). I cooked the pasta ("noodles" to Pic), drained it, added olive oil and diced tomato and covered it all with parmesan. Tonight, we had basically the same thing, just with peas instead of tomatoes.
What else? On Thursday, Pic and I had yogurt banana splits for lunch. We had banana yogurt topped with sliced strawberries and granola. This was all on top of sliced banana, of course.
Sorry that the pictures are so incredibly crappily blurry.
I haven't quite worked out what I want to say here today. So, why am I even here? I'm working it out.
I'm not the type of person who can open her mouth and spew forth brilliance (or anything with any kind of luster, actually). I take a long time to process and I like to think through composing. I either compose on paper, on the screen or in my head. I often wonder how much of a problem this is going to be for me as I advance in my field, but I'll just have to deal, right? Right.
Although I sometimes focus too much on how many comments I get (or don't) and how dismally low my reader count thing is, I still enjoy blogging. I came into it cautiously back in 2005, after Poke explained to me that, "It's like a journal online. It stands for 'web log.'" I thought the concept was interesting, but a bit weird. I made mention, in my first blog post on my Other blog, in my annoying not-quite-letting-anyone-else-in-on-my-train-of-thought way that the voyeurism is strange. Blogging is so narcissistic and exhibitionist, but I think about these attributes less and less. (I also dislike that these -- narcissism and exhibitionism -- are such negative-sounding traits, but I'm not going to stop and try to find some happy words with which to replace these.) Sometimes I think, "Geez-a-wheeze [as Pic says], I talk about "I" a lot." But, well, what/who else am I going to discuss. I only know me and I don't claim to know me all that well.
Reading others' blogs has been a great way to feel that I'm still connected to people who I don't otherwise check in with all that often. I'm a strong advocate of everyone I know starting a blog...but for pretty selfish reasons. I want to be able to read them. I know that some of my friends aren't into the whole blogging thing and that my parents just aren't completely down with the whole blogging thing, but the blogosphere has been good for me. I still keep my own journal (seventeen years and counting*), but I also like to share some things with the blogosphere. And, I don't have to have anyone looking at me while I do my sharing. I'm not entirely comfortable with other people looking at me (or, actually, with me looking at me either).
This has been one of the hardest years I've ever had to survive and reading about others' tribulations** has helped me. I have yet to share all of my dark and twisty moments and experiences, but I hope to at some point. I feel badly, sometimes, that I don't share as much as I can, because the sense of thanks-be-that-I'm-not-the-only-one has been essential to me this year. Part of what I love about the very small section of the blogosphere that I'm plugged into is the sense of community. (Get ready for some cheese, sorry.) I honestly feel (hope?) that if I ever had the courage to approach some of the bloggers I regularly read, if I ever had the chance to meet them (hello, BlogHer '09), they'd be warm and accepting women (yeah, I still don't read any men regularly...at least not anyone fessing up to being male).
I'd like to eventually be part of a larger conversation,*** but for now, my little blog here is working just fine, I suppose. So, thank you readers and commenters for reading my drivel for all this time. Thus (pretty much) ends my somewhat sappy and disconnected freewrite.
* What does one do with a lifetime's worth of journals when one comes to the end of one's life? (This "one" of whom I speak is me, of course.) Do I make a provision to have them burned with me? Can I do that? I sure as heckfire**** don't want them available for others to peruse, and judge, after I'm gone...although I will be gone, so I might not care that much.
** Wholesome or otherwise.
*** I've been in grad school for way too long.
**** I've seen Groundhog Day a ridiculous number of times.
I couldn't embed this video ("embedding disabled by request"), but Toby Keith's "Wanna Talk about Me" is running through my head right now.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
I noticed that my last post was number eighty-eight for the month and it made me think of this song.
For dinner tonight, Pic and I had strawberries and cereal with fat-free half-and-half. Our milk was starting to smell somewhat nasty, so I had to pour that out. It was either the half-and-half or heavy whipping cream.
Okay, so I'm running out of steam here. It's a good thing that tomorrow ends NaBloPoMo. It was fun while it lasted, but I'm ready for a bit of a break. However...
One Minute Writer from 11/12:
If you had the opportunity to write as a career, what would you write?
Blogs. Okay, so less than a minute, I know. I also know that I was just whining about this writing every day thing, but really. I'd be able to read so many more blogs and they often give me inspiration to write. I'd just have to develop a tougher skin because of the possibility of blog trolls.
So, anyhow, my title is "stuff and things." There's more random stuff.
Pic and I started our day with some Pilates. As we practiced on the floor, the covert cats circled us, attempting to lay under our heads and legs. I don't know what it is about our exercising bodies that says to them, "Hey, come on over. How about you get comfortable right where I'm about to rest? Then I can squish you and you can bite me. Sound good?"
After we finished our morning workout (something that extremely rarely happens), we picked up a bit and sang along with Joan Sebastian. Now you can too.
[Okay, so this is Cardo's and my song...not what Pic and I were singing this morning, but same guy.]
I also got to talk to Poke for a good long while today. That was good and I needed it. I still have this fantasy that we'll end up living near one another so that we can see each other's kids grow up.
Friday, November 28, 2008
One Minute Writer for today:
As a kid, what job did you dream you'd have as an adult? What job do you have now?
Cooking Show Host
No, I can't sing. Also, I'm a wreck in the kitchen. And, lots of driving (in unfamiliar places, places where other drivers are jerks, places that are busy...kind of any in-city driving) makes me anxious as all get-out.
Teacher kind of stuck throughout. My mom says that when I was three, I told her I wanted to be a teacher.
Check my occupation on my profile...I sell couch insurance (and I have a low-level thing for John Cusack).
We made turkey breast, sweet potato casserole, dijon green beans, rolls and sparkling cider for dinner. Okay, we bought the rolls, but the rest was homemade. Mmm. It was good and we have three million servings of casserole left over. I don't think we'll get to our pie tonight, though, because I'm currently stuffed. Oh, which reminds me...no stuffing. I don't eat stuffing, usually. So, I didn't make any.
Cardo and I are going to relax and watch Wall-E now. Pic and I did not make it through the movie yesterday. All of the explosions freaked her out. We didn't get very far. She was, however, perfectly okay with watching the movie at Costco today. She even told us she wanted to watch it when we got home, but it turns out she didn't.
Oh, I was spared the freakishly-early trip to Sears this morning. Cardo went alone and ended up buying more tools instead of a tool chest.
So, I'll leave you with the good-night exchange between Pic and myself. She was upset with me because I told her she could not wear her flowergirl dress up to bed. I make her take it off and leave it with me every night. (Yes, she wears it daily...it's really getting gross at this point.)
Pic: I'm afraid of you too. You forever won't be my friend.
Me: I love you.
Pic: I love you too, Ms Grumpy.
Then, Cardo took her up to bed. She is currently talking to her ponies.
...to come. We're about to begin cooking our "Thanksgiving" dinner. I'll post pictures and let you know how it goes. It should be okay, because it'll be incredibly simple.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
If I'm making pear/applesauce, is it okay that when I open the lid it smells like I'm making some kind of pear wine or something? It smells a bit fermenty in there. We'll see.
Anyhow, I'm making this sauce to use up some of the fruit we've got sitting around. Apparently if I leave fruit around, Pic uses it as toys. I've now found two very sad-looking avocados up in her room.
...and we might not even strictly adhere to that request.
Here's an invite (supposedly, I was not invited, nor did I attend) to P. Diddy's 29th birthday bash.
"History in the making"? Okaaay.
Well, at least I haven't yet drawn up invites for Pic's fourth birthday party, but be warned people, we may be checking at the door to make sure you've waxed.
I don't really care how it's defined, I'm one of those people who doesn't think of white chocolate as actual chocolate. Chocolate needs cocoa powder, not just cocoa butter. Also, I prefer mine dark (like my men...OH, lame! I know, I just couldn't help it).
However, not calling white chocolate "chocolate" leads to the dilemma of what to call it. All that ever comes to my mind are things like "white...stuff" or "that creamy white stuff" and these suggestions just never sound appropriate for anything other than...Cetaphil.
I think that I might not be so anti-white chocolate if it wasn't always pretending to be chocolate.
So, suggestions for what we should call it? Anyone?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
...yeah, sound it out. Got me? Okay.
We might be participating in the Black Friday madness this year. Of course, I'd much rather sleep, but Cardo is intent on buying a tool chest from Sears. Actually, this was going to be my gift to him this year, but if he's willing to get up waaay before dawn breaks to buy it, I suppose I'll let him get it for himself. Besides, it'll knock about $100 off of the price. He had better let me take a long, long nap later in the day, though.
Now, what am I going to gift him with? A Sylvia, perhaps? A Skyline, maybe? Cha-a, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.
I was just trying to look up a class or two and I came across the following message:
The PDF version of the class schedule is as of the hard copy print date.
Maybe I'm just really tired and this will make sense to me after several hours of sleep, but right now? Something just seems off.
...I made the cookies. That's right, the cookies. We all got the recipe from here, and you can trace it back from there. Not that that matters. Only the cookies are important.
Usually when it comes to baking stuff, I feel like I'm dragging out every single dish I own and the clean-up makes me weary. Tonight? One bowl, various measuring cups and spoons, the mixer and my hands. That's it. It's all clean and the cookies are baking.
Mixing up the cookies was super easy, even though I don't have a stand mixer (this makes crafting some dishes a bit more tedious, but that was not the case here). I had everything cleaned before the first batch was out of the oven. It would be nice if I could make more than a dozen at a time, but I only have two baking sheets, so...ah, well.
I already ate two cookies. I probably won't eat more until much later.
So simple, so good.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention that, for me, the best chocolate chip cookies cannot be made with semi-sweet morsels, so I used dark chocolate chips. That's the only substitution I made. I also made smaller cookies, like Judy at No Fear mentions. I need to go now and pop more into the oven. Mmmm.
P.S. I only took these on after the wonderfully talented Furie Queene reassured me that I could only mess these up if I burnt them.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
"I just love this movie. It has songs that I like."
I'm taking heart that this means she'll love musicals as much as I do.
P.S. She's watching Strawberry Shortcake Big Country Fun.
A few of her current favorite phrases:
"Mamma/Papi, don't do that ever again." (She usually says this when we tickle her.)
"We must_____." (As in, "We must go home now.")
"You scared my song away." (If we happen to startle her while she is singing.)
"I have tears." (Just in case we didn't notice she was crying.)
Excerpt from the instruction/information sheet from my box of tampons:
Always remove your used tampon before inserting a new one.
Be sure to remove the last tampon you use at the end of your period.
I went to fill my gas tank today. I filled it for less than $16 and I'd had less than a quarter of a tank. I am dreading the day when I wake up and gas has jumped from just below $2/gallon to $5/gallon. I do not trust this ebb in the prices.
After I filled the tank, Pic and I went to check my mailbox at work but what I was hoping was there wasn't. [weary sigh]
We stopped at Hollywood Video, returned Baby Mama, Together Again for the Very First Time and a Strawberry Shortcake movie (I may never really have to grow up, because my childhood is following me into my thirties). We rented Wall-E (for free!) and yet another Strawberry Shortcake movie. I have yet to see Wall-E, because, y'know, I'm so into the whole going to the theatre and spending too much money on tickets, popcorn and iced tea. (Okay, that and when do we have time to actually go to the cinema?)
So, speaking of gas prices and of Wall-E (which I understand to have a bit -- or a lot -- of an environmental message), there was a teenager driving her SUV in perpetual circles in the parking lot. She had apparently already been circling before we arrived and continued to do so after we left, I suppose. The clerks inside the store were getting a laugh from this, but all I could think was, "What a waste of gas. Goodbye ozone, it's been nice." (And, yes, as I mentioned, I was driving my own car, not walking/biking/taking public transportation.)
So, yeah, Pic and I will probably be watching Wall-E on Thursday (I'm assuming it's an okay movie for her to watch and I'm hoping that it isn't anywhere near as saccharine as Care Bears and My Little Ponies and Strawberry Shortcake).
Monday, November 24, 2008
These are from Passive-Aggressive Notes:
...okay, so actually I do. Mondays are hard to get through. I never get enough sleep before I face my really long day. Ugh.
So...on with the random stuff.
This morning, Cardo woke me up by saying, "Mami, it's 6:48." Crap on a stick. We scurried around just as we usually do in the way too early mornings and got to everywhere we needed to be on time. I'll be glad when January rolls around.
While I was rushing around this morning, I, for whatever reason, decided that I'd wear some of my white socks today. Actually, I know the reason. My white socks are thicker than my colored socks and I wanted my feet to be warm enough today. My shoes are light brownish and reminiscent of Mary Janes (much more functional than cute, mind you), so a good part of my sock was not covered by either my pants legs or my shoes. Every time I looked down, I noticed a flash of white. "Hey there, nice bright white sock, how's it going? Oh, look, there's your mate." [You have to sing this next part.] "White socks, white socks, very, very white socks." Yeah...too little sleep equals a very easily-distracted me.
The Saints are right now beating the pants off of the Packers (this is not a literal description of events and thanks be that that is true).
As I was sitting in the Starbucks chatting with Peecho, er, conducting very important and much-used office hours, I listened in on the group sitting at the table next to me. For a while, they (verbally) bashed their parents for being too airheaded. One said her father only let her put Chevron gasoline in the car. Another said his mom had no idea what kind of gas to put in the car. He continued on by doing a very unflattering impression of his mother. Another mentioned that the first person's dad really had no way of knowing what kind of gas she put in the car. Someone mentioned that there was no difference between Chevron's gas and anyone else's. Yet another person (yes, it was a group of about six) said something along the lines of, "You're only supposed to put it in every two weeks or every month or something. You're not supposed to put it in every day."* Um, yeah. Who fills her tank every day? Let me extend my pity to that person, maybe...it depends on what she's doing to use up all of that gas.
A bit later, one of the group had to leave. As soon as the door closed behind him, the volume of the conversation at the table dropped a notch. You know that conspiratorial tone people use when discussing someone else? Yeah, that's it. They began (verbally) bashing this friend, talking about how annoying he is and how much they couldn't stand him.
They seem like a great bunch of friends. True friends, you know. It almost made me wonder what people say about me when I leave, but I realized that I'd rather believe that it's all good. I have enough insecurities to deal with to worry about this. I hope, though, that the guy who left will find a group of friends who will accept him and care enough about him to treat him well both when he's present and when he's not.
The beginning of the conversation also made me think, "What will Pic be saying about Cardo and me when she's independent and omniscient?"
Okay, so I guess that's the end of the random stuff for today.
* That's what she said.**
** I had to say it. It's not something I say. It's from a show I don't watch. But, it felt appropriate. I miss Ms K, and it was a tribute to her.
...this is about all that I can think about today.
More of this and other nonsense later.
For now: grocery shopping and returning a dolly (the wheeled-kind, not the baby-doll kind) we borrowed when we moved (ahem) six months ago.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
On Friday, before I watched What Not To Wear, I caught some of Say Yes To the Dress. I’ve seen this show once before so I don’t know why I watched it again. I become so annoyed with these people that I end up having full-on conversations with these women (okay, to the conversations are one-sided, but I do talk to them a lot). Also, the family members and friends who come along for the dress-shopping trip make me crazy.
Most of the time, though, it wasn’t actually the shoppers who made me crazy but the prices that made me crazy. Some of these people were spending more on a wedding dress, a dress that will be worn for a few hours for one day, than I spent on my car. My car that I’ve used for the last seven years. On the most recent episode I watched, there was a woman who was having a Muslim ceremony one day and a Christian ceremony the next. She had a dress for her Muslim ceremony and was buying one for her Christian one. That dress cost $11,000 (more than my car, people). Later, she came back for yet another dress because she needed a dress to put on when she changed out of her wedding dress. So, she bought another wedding dress. It doesn’t really matter how much the second (ahem, third) one cost because the other one was $11.000!
I’m sure that these amounts of money seem like nothing to some people, but I can barely comprehend being able to do that. In fact, I can’t comprehend it.
Often, Cardo and I muse about the possibility of being stinking rich one day (this isn’t one of our goals and neither of us are on the path of getting us there, but we sometimes wonder about it anyway). We wonder, “How much will we change if one day we are rich?” (And, our ideas of what rich is, is tremendously different. Cardo has much loftier ideas about what rich is than I do.)
Will we still buy our big furniture items from Craigslist and Goodwill? Will we still clothes shop at Savers? Will we continue to mainly only buy used books? Will we still buy store-brand (Kirkland Signature) toilet paper at Costco?
I think that we will. This kind of second-hand and bulk buying is just a part of how I live.
I think that what would change the most is our current lack of travel. I would love to travel to so many places and that’s just not all that possible for us right now. Oh, and I’d like to be able to pay for all of Pic’s college (if she goes and as long as she’s putting in the effort). I, possibly somewhat hugely naively, believe that our everyday lives would be pretty much the same.
Oh, I almost forgot, though…I’d finally get my hybrid (or other alternatively-fueled car).
What would change for you guys if you were suddenly stinking rich?
Today, Coach J, Destructor, Pic and I went to hang out for a bit. Coach J had invited me to go see HMS Pinafore last night, but I was slightly freaking out about the mess here and the reading and packing that needed to be done. I was thinking to bail on today's outing also, but I thought, "I'm going to need to get out of the apartment tomorrow, regardless." So, we went.
The kids were great. They shared sips (one of Destructor's new words in his enormously-speedily growing vocabulary) of apple juice and bites of a lemon poppyseed scone. We walk around and gifts for an upcoming birthday were bought. Then, we took the kids to Williams Sonoma where we salivated over kitchen gadgets we might not ever be able to afford (we found a copper KitchenAid mixer I love, but it costs $899!). After window shopping a bit more, we ended up at Johnny Carino's for lunch. The kids sat next to each other and shared toys and food.
I needed to get out and I'm glad that we went.
It's been so great being able to see Destructor grow from, well, fetus (okay, so I didn't actually see this...other than the sonogram pictures on Coach J's fridge) to the running around, talking, active boy he is now. Most of the time, the kids get along pretty well. And, while the kids play, I get to hang out with my friend, which is always good.
So, after days like this, I wonder what I'm thinking moving. I know that people say that I'll form a new support group wherever I end up next, but really, it's taken me so ridiculously long to form the one I have here. I hate the thought of Pic and I spending most of our time with just the two of us because I tend to be a hermit.* I also hate the thought of being three years in before I form a new support group and then having to move two years later anyway. Sometimes I wonder why I even form attachments anyway.
Okay, so that last thought is horribly pessimistic, I know. I'm just not a huge fan of the whole uprooting thing right now. Part of this is just nervousness about me having to start somewhere new and unknown. I'll get over it, I suppose I will (because I'm the queen of wishful thinking).
P.S. Yes, I know that I whine about this upcoming move a lot, but, well, this is my blog, so I'll whine about it as much as I please.
* I recently spent an entire semester using the term "eremite" because I couldn't for the life of me remember the freaking word "hermit." Sleep is a beautiful thing and I obviously need more of it.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Does anyone else have those moments of pure irrational breakdown.
Something along the lines of, "I can't find my friggin' book. Screw it, I quit grad school"? Hmm? Something like that?
A couple of weeks ago, I was frantically searching for my book for class. I put it aside, I swear I had just seen it and then, suddenly, poof!, the friggin' thing was gone. I frantically searched for about forty-five minutes before I decided I was making myself way crazier than I should be. I was so entirely not amused with myself.
Losing my book is clearly a rational reason to chuck it all, no?
I have a feeling I'll be having plenty more of these days in the very immediate future.
The RN&R has a feature on holiday gifts we can buy from "local, indie businesses." One of the first items listed is a "Nevada-shaped copper cookie cutter, ($12.95) -- for all those raging Nevada Day parties, we suppose."
Back when I first started on my current path to mental breakdown and utter exhaustion, I took a class with Dr Turkey in the Straw (such a better pseudonym is needed, I know this). He was a bit hung up on his baking skills, which were fabulous, by the way. At the end of the semester, he made us cupcakes topped with piped-icing flowers. He also made us un-iced, wonderful sugar cookies, in the shape of Nevada. Someone had bought him one of the above-mentioned cookie cutters and he had wanted to try it out.
I don't know that I can think of another instance of a prof baking for my classmates and me [not "I" but "me" thank you very much]. Although, Dr Jones did bring in some cookies one of his students had baked for him once. Tainted cookies.
Hmm. I'm going to go peruse the rest of the article.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Once, when Poke and I were in high school, we were hanging out at her house with her mom. This was pretty common. Poke's mom owns a massive amount of movies. Seriously...she could open up a video rental program from her home. Anyhow, we were sitting around, enjoying some quiet time, I suppose (what's quiet time? please tell me it will return someday), when Poke's mom decided she wanted to watch a movie.
A stupid movie.
Yes, this is the desire she voiced. Poke and I totally didn't get it, but we went along with it. After several minutes of searching, we pulled out Johnny Mnemonic. We popped the neon orange tape into the VCR and began to watch the movie. Poke and I were somewhat at a loss for words due to the utter stupidity of the movie. However, I guess that stupidity was the point, yes? I'm pretty sure Poke and I never finished watching the movie.*
Tonight, I rented Baby Mama. I need mind-numbingly stupid and I already know I can't handle the Keanu Reeves flick. We'll see how this works.
*Although, one night, I spent the night at Poke's house and we started watching Biodome rather late in the night. Poke was smart enough to fall asleep, but I watched the whole moronic movie...which probably makes me a moron.
I just wasted a bit of precious nap time playing with Vista Print's holiday card maker. Poke sent out caricature cards like these, from Vista Print a couple of years ago. They were very cute.
Apparently I don't really know what my family looks like, though. Oh, and messy, unstyled hair was not an option for either me or Pic. Oh, and Pic's somewhere between "baby" and "girl" in their categories, so I stuck with baby.
Also, too (haha...okay), that's me sticking my tongue out because I'm not good with serious pictures, even when I'm a cartoon. And, Pic doesn't have twigs growing out of the side of her head, that's her hair. The end.
Okay, sorry John.
Grilled cheese and tomato sandwich with garlic powder. Olive oil drizzle, not butter, on the bread. (I suppose that I could have done garlic bread, duh, but my brain doesn't work that well on two hours of sleep.)
Chopped apple, spinach, toasted walnut salad. I oh-so-stupidly added dressing to this. Why can't I remember that I'm not a huge fan of dressing? At least I added very little, but I could still taste it. Now, if it was the salad dressing I had recently at Coach J's I would have been happy. I really need to figure out what that was and think about getting some myself.
I'm tired, so I'm going to nap and then clean for the rest of all eternity.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I did a somewhat unintelligent thing yesterday. I drove through the neighborhood where we very recently lived. We were renting a house, so we always knew that the arrangement would be short-term, but we didn’t figure that the term would be so, well, short. However, there’s this little housing market crisis thing going on…you might have heard about it.
So, now, we’re back in an apartment (soon to be a bigger apartment, but still an apartment) and I’m back to constantly daydreaming about owning my own home. I’m so cliché with that whole American dream of owning a house. (I’m not so into many other American dreams, including that whole get-rich-quick thing or that whole being famous thing, but the house, I want.) I could probably deal without the white picket fence and the dog (and I could definitely do without the 2.5 kids), but I want the house.
Recently, Cardo has been hinting around about us settling down. I don’t know how much of this has to do with his heart problem, but he does seem to be a bit more thoughtful lately. He even said to me, the other day, “It’d be nice if you could get your PhD somewhere else and then come back and work here. We could buy a house here.” I’m much too impressionable for him to be throwing these suggestions my way. Sounds great to me, sign me up. There’s just the issue of the next five years of our lives and how we will live them.
Will we live together, or not? If we don’t, how am I going to earn my PhD, raise a child who will grow from a pre-schooler to an almost-middle-schooler and maintain my mental health? (There is no question about who Pic would stay with.)
We’re kind of really dependent on the paycheck that Cardo pulls in from this job he’s been at for almost a decade now. In these incredibly uncertain times, we’re both nervous about both of us trying to find new sources of income (well…income for him, pocket change for me).
Anyhow, I’m feeling this pull for some sort of stable domesticity. Who knows how long before I reach this. Hmm.
One Minute Writer for today:
Describe a "first day" in your life (first day of marriage, of school, at a new job, etc.)
Here we go...
The night before the first day I ever really taught, I called my mom to tell her just how uncomfortable I was with the idea that all of my students would be looking at me. Right at me. Probably even for most of the class (when they could tear their eyes away from their crotches where they "hide" their IMing devices). My mom still finds this funny. I still find the prospect of so many people looking right at me a bit terrifying. But, only a bit. I still get nervous before each new first day, but not as much as I used to.