Inspired by the wonderful sister/friend weekend -- see photos! and go away, internet stalkers -- I made up a game involving the friends themselves. Match the fabulous woman to the situation in which you would most want her to be with you, and that best showcases her special special talent.
Disclaimer: I mean, ideally, all of the these friends would always be there with you in all of this situations. These are just the particular specialties of each one, because she would know exactly what to do.
And sorry: This game will only be fun for some of you. My apologies to the three people who read this who have never met the sister/friends.
1. I lost my wallet and my keys and my birth certificate and my passport and my mind and anything that connects me to this earth, and I have to be somewhere really important in 20 minutes.
2. (this one is true!) I bought all this butternut squash this weekend and I'm leaving for California in two days and I want to use it before it goes bad, but I don't want soup or baked squash and I can't think of what else to do with it.
3. I need to acquire several nearly defunct drugstores, and I need to look very professional and stunning and have very smooth skin while doing so.
4. I am having an insane emotional breakdown about absolutely nothing and need someone to simultaneously set me straight, sympathize with me, laugh hysterically with me and make me feel 1000 times better. Also, I found some children who need some educatin'.
5. I need to change the oil in my car, and I need all trees to be identified as such, because I have acquired a strange disorder that does not allow me to figure out the difference between a tree and a bag of gummy bears, for instance.
Go, match, win.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
one two three FOUR five
Before the 5ives: I really respect this idea of the path of least resistance. It's funny how there's lingering guilt -- a cultural bias, as she says -- about taking the easy way out, or something like that, but something about her story about making the jewelry resonates with me so completely.
Now for the 5ives: They are so great. This one and this one and this one and this one and this one. That was five, right? Right. But there are lots more great ones, too.
Now for the 5ives: They are so great. This one and this one and this one and this one and this one. That was five, right? Right. But there are lots more great ones, too.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
icthyosaurs and tigers and bears, oh my
We had a blast at the Museum of Natural History yesterday -- saw some creepy things that used to swim, played with some magnifying glasses, shared a water ice in the cafeteria. Shannon has photos, go see. (And I really, really want a poster or something of that turtle to hang where I can look at it all the time.)
Shannon told this story too, but it really was funny when Gaby kept asking to see the "real things." Turns out she didn't mean living animals, but the room at the museum with the hands-on exhibits, the stuff she could actually experience and touch. Amen to that in a more general sense.
---
Also, speaking of Shannon and nice things, she is walking in another Avon 3-Day this year, and she needs cash. It's a huge challenge, and she's serious and dedicated. (Take it from someone who SAW the infected foot last year: Shannon is not joking around. :) )
So help her fundraise if you can. She deserves it.
Shannon told this story too, but it really was funny when Gaby kept asking to see the "real things." Turns out she didn't mean living animals, but the room at the museum with the hands-on exhibits, the stuff she could actually experience and touch. Amen to that in a more general sense.
---
Also, speaking of Shannon and nice things, she is walking in another Avon 3-Day this year, and she needs cash. It's a huge challenge, and she's serious and dedicated. (Take it from someone who SAW the infected foot last year: Shannon is not joking around. :) )
So help her fundraise if you can. She deserves it.
Monday, January 23, 2006
waffle waffle waffle
Wise Angie on Crate & Barrel catalogs, the wedding industry, the market economy and the power of fantasy:
Ang: No one really wants a heart-shaped waffle-maker.
Me: Of course not, that would be incredibly tacky.
Ang: No, I mean they literally don't want a heart-shaped waffle-maker. They want a life where they get to use a heart-shaped waffle-maker to make heart-shaped waffles for the people they love. They want the illusion that they could have a life where a heart-shaped waffle-maker belongs.
Ang: No one really wants a heart-shaped waffle-maker.
Me: Of course not, that would be incredibly tacky.
Ang: No, I mean they literally don't want a heart-shaped waffle-maker. They want a life where they get to use a heart-shaped waffle-maker to make heart-shaped waffles for the people they love. They want the illusion that they could have a life where a heart-shaped waffle-maker belongs.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
we live out where the street ends
Overheard on the Metro on Friday night:
Man to his female seatmate, brandishing an old copy of Express, the Metro paper: Why do we care about this guy in Israel?
Woman: Who, you mean Ari*l Sh*ron?
Man: Yeah. I mean, Israel is crazy. We should all just let them blow themselves the fuck up. I don't see why we're all involved.
Woman: Because all the other people over there in the Eastern... East... you know, the East? (I think the word she was looking for was "Middle.") Anyway, over there, if we didn't do anything, they'll all kill each other off and then there will only be the Arabs left, and then, you know. Look at 9/11.
A little crude, maybe, but does that sound like a cogent summary of our government's general foreign policy to you? I will withhold judgment on that.
And while we're on politics, sort of, Slate's coverage of the Al*to hearings is so good and funny and on the mark. I love the reporter who does court stuff for them.
Nothing else doing, really, as my grandmother would say. I have friends visiting and am miserably failing at entertaining them because I'm still sick and grouchy. And also getting tired of sounding like a cross between a 12-year-old boy and a bad 900-number when I talk. Eight weeks of Yiddish classes start tonight -- soon I'll be able to sound simultaneously adolescent and trashy in the language of my ancestors...
Man to his female seatmate, brandishing an old copy of Express, the Metro paper: Why do we care about this guy in Israel?
Woman: Who, you mean Ari*l Sh*ron?
Man: Yeah. I mean, Israel is crazy. We should all just let them blow themselves the fuck up. I don't see why we're all involved.
Woman: Because all the other people over there in the Eastern... East... you know, the East? (I think the word she was looking for was "Middle.") Anyway, over there, if we didn't do anything, they'll all kill each other off and then there will only be the Arabs left, and then, you know. Look at 9/11.
A little crude, maybe, but does that sound like a cogent summary of our government's general foreign policy to you? I will withhold judgment on that.
And while we're on politics, sort of, Slate's coverage of the Al*to hearings is so good and funny and on the mark. I love the reporter who does court stuff for them.
Nothing else doing, really, as my grandmother would say. I have friends visiting and am miserably failing at entertaining them because I'm still sick and grouchy. And also getting tired of sounding like a cross between a 12-year-old boy and a bad 900-number when I talk. Eight weeks of Yiddish classes start tonight -- soon I'll be able to sound simultaneously adolescent and trashy in the language of my ancestors...
Friday, December 23, 2005
there are no songs about memes...
... and that's not really a bad thing. But let's try one anyway.
1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?
Drove across the Midwest -- ate cheese in Wisconsin; saw Dayton, Ohio (twice!); got close to Iowa; bought pants in the Mall of America; wandered around southern Minnesota looking at things that had only been fictional in my mind. Entertained the thought of LIVING in the Midwest (probably not in my future). Finished writing a book, for the 6 millionth time. Kissed someone in a forest. (Sorry, barf. Will try not to make this barfy.) Did a headstand. Became obsessed with Netflix. Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Stayed in a hotel room alone.
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I kind of kept them -- I was way better about exercise and yoga until about two months ago. And yes, I will make more, probably the same ones or similar, for next year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No, although a couple people who are semi-close to me did.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, knockoneverywoodensurfaceeverywhere.
5. What countries did you visit?
Wow, I didn't leave the U.S. this year, unless you count Detroit. I'm going to England next summer to visit R., and Los Angeles in the spring to visit T., and New Hampshire over Presidents' Day with the sisterfriends.
6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?
More sleep, more self-discipline, a consistently working car.
7. What dates from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
My birthday and Oct. 20. I think I'll also remember Aug. 29, the day Katrina hit.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I think I'm starting to trust people in a way I haven't before. I did a couple things I was really really scared of this year, and I think it let me be little bit less cynical and pessimistic and superstitious. My guard came down a bit in 2005. (Also, the whole book thing, maybe.)
9. What was your biggest failure?
Continuing to let anxiety make a lot of my decisions for me. Not learning to ride a bike, again. I also really really suck for not getting my knitted holiday gifts finished on time, but I'm still working on that.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, although this high blood pressure situation is not really to my liking.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Well, the best thing I was given is definitely insulated curtains from my parents, which I always think aren't helping keep the cold out until I stick my hand between them and the window and feel how freezing it is. The best thing I bought was probably my first-ever pair of knee-high boots.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
The panda cub. And my friends, frankly. We kind of ruled 2005.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
We aren't going to talk about politics here, right? But you can guess.
14. Where did most of your money go?
If only I knew. To Amtrak, to car repairs, to various yarn stores, to my overpriced gym, to eating out way too much.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The new book that's in my head, and the old book that's pretty much out of it. Harry Potter. H. and K.'s new house. Getting my own office, maybe soon.
16. What song will always remind you of 2005?
What is that song that's always on XPN about the "waaaaay up hiiiiigh" -- they play it, like, every day. That song. Also the White Stripes' "My Doorbell."
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? happier
b) thinner or fatter? a bit thinner
c) richer or poorer? about the same
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Enjoying things without worrying.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Do you know I actually can't think of anything, unless I went back to the last question and put it in this category? Wow.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
J. and I are going to the movies on Christmas Eve (which is also Chanukah Eve), and then I'm getting up early Sunday to drive to Lancaster to see the family and help my mom with the mammoth party they're throwing that night.
*(now is where I start editing because this is getting boring and repetitive)*
23. What was your favorite TV program?
Still Gilmore Girls (you guys, MADELINE ALBRIGHT was on the show. In Rory's DREAM SEQUENCE. Come ON, how much better does it get?). But after Netflixing the original British version of Coupling, that's a close second. It's hilarious and great.
25. What was the best book you read?
Hmm, just one... Primo Levi's "Periodic Table," and the Alice Munro short stories. And "Cat's Eye," but that doesn't count because I read it a bunch of times before.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Girlyman, Girlyman, oh Girlyman.
27. What did you want and get?
A good relationship.
28. What did you want and not get?
A digital camera. Still holding out a shred of hope for Chanukah, but I think it's not to be.
29. What was your favorite film of this year?
I saw way more movies this year than usual (thanks, Netflix!) but there isn't one single standout. Oh, maybe Good Night and Good Luck, which made me proud of journalism for a change. Dr. Strangelove was great. And I adored Bride and Prejudice, although I did not adore the person with whom I saw it.
30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
28, and I spent it with J at dinner and at the movies (at Good Night, come to think of it). A few days later, I had the most surprising surprise party in the world. This was a stunningly good birthday year.
31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If I had gone a whole year with no cavities. I made six months, but still shooting for the full 365.
32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Hahahaha, right. The trip to the Dayton Salvation Army Store with H. and K. helped things along, but it's still the same old.
33. What kept you sane?
Decaf coffee. And bloggers, actually -- I've found a bunch of new ones this year and sometimes their day-to-day routines bring such a welcome pattern to my own days.
34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I have a little crush on what's his face from the BBC Pride and Prejudice series now -- Mark Darcy, but I forget his real name. Er... er... Bridget Jones has it too...
35. What political issue stirred you the most?
Will break the normal self-imposed silence: I got really, really into the Sc**ter L*bby thing, and the J*d*th M*ll*r matter in its entirety had me paying very close attention professionally. Personally, I was moved and saddened and horrified by the news from Darfur, and how little all of us really know about it.
37. Who was the best new person you met?
Oh, J.
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005.
Oy. How about a nice quote instead:
If the real world were a book, it would NEVER find a publisher. Overlong, detailed to the point of distraction -- and ultimately, without a major resolution. -- spoken by Hamlet in Jasper Fforde's Something Rotten, which I am currently reading
Also:
I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. --Douglas Adams
39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
That's really hard... this doesn't sum up my year, and the main thrust of this song really has nothing to do with anything that happened to me this year. But um, yeah... it's probably my favorite song from an album that will make me think of this year? Or something? OK, whatever:
from "Postcards from Mexico":
When you slammed through my life
Like a screen door in a hurricane wind,
All I could think was how to find you again.
But Route 80 was snowed under,
And the roads to the canyon were closed.
For our safety, I suppose.
The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.
1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?
Drove across the Midwest -- ate cheese in Wisconsin; saw Dayton, Ohio (twice!); got close to Iowa; bought pants in the Mall of America; wandered around southern Minnesota looking at things that had only been fictional in my mind. Entertained the thought of LIVING in the Midwest (probably not in my future). Finished writing a book, for the 6 millionth time. Kissed someone in a forest. (Sorry, barf. Will try not to make this barfy.) Did a headstand. Became obsessed with Netflix. Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Stayed in a hotel room alone.
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I kind of kept them -- I was way better about exercise and yoga until about two months ago. And yes, I will make more, probably the same ones or similar, for next year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No, although a couple people who are semi-close to me did.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, knockoneverywoodensurfaceeverywhere.
5. What countries did you visit?
Wow, I didn't leave the U.S. this year, unless you count Detroit. I'm going to England next summer to visit R., and Los Angeles in the spring to visit T., and New Hampshire over Presidents' Day with the sisterfriends.
6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?
More sleep, more self-discipline, a consistently working car.
7. What dates from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
My birthday and Oct. 20. I think I'll also remember Aug. 29, the day Katrina hit.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I think I'm starting to trust people in a way I haven't before. I did a couple things I was really really scared of this year, and I think it let me be little bit less cynical and pessimistic and superstitious. My guard came down a bit in 2005. (Also, the whole book thing, maybe.)
9. What was your biggest failure?
Continuing to let anxiety make a lot of my decisions for me. Not learning to ride a bike, again. I also really really suck for not getting my knitted holiday gifts finished on time, but I'm still working on that.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, although this high blood pressure situation is not really to my liking.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Well, the best thing I was given is definitely insulated curtains from my parents, which I always think aren't helping keep the cold out until I stick my hand between them and the window and feel how freezing it is. The best thing I bought was probably my first-ever pair of knee-high boots.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
The panda cub. And my friends, frankly. We kind of ruled 2005.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
We aren't going to talk about politics here, right? But you can guess.
14. Where did most of your money go?
If only I knew. To Amtrak, to car repairs, to various yarn stores, to my overpriced gym, to eating out way too much.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The new book that's in my head, and the old book that's pretty much out of it. Harry Potter. H. and K.'s new house. Getting my own office, maybe soon.
16. What song will always remind you of 2005?
What is that song that's always on XPN about the "waaaaay up hiiiiigh" -- they play it, like, every day. That song. Also the White Stripes' "My Doorbell."
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? happier
b) thinner or fatter? a bit thinner
c) richer or poorer? about the same
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Enjoying things without worrying.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Do you know I actually can't think of anything, unless I went back to the last question and put it in this category? Wow.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
J. and I are going to the movies on Christmas Eve (which is also Chanukah Eve), and then I'm getting up early Sunday to drive to Lancaster to see the family and help my mom with the mammoth party they're throwing that night.
*(now is where I start editing because this is getting boring and repetitive)*
23. What was your favorite TV program?
Still Gilmore Girls (you guys, MADELINE ALBRIGHT was on the show. In Rory's DREAM SEQUENCE. Come ON, how much better does it get?). But after Netflixing the original British version of Coupling, that's a close second. It's hilarious and great.
25. What was the best book you read?
Hmm, just one... Primo Levi's "Periodic Table," and the Alice Munro short stories. And "Cat's Eye," but that doesn't count because I read it a bunch of times before.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Girlyman, Girlyman, oh Girlyman.
27. What did you want and get?
A good relationship.
28. What did you want and not get?
A digital camera. Still holding out a shred of hope for Chanukah, but I think it's not to be.
29. What was your favorite film of this year?
I saw way more movies this year than usual (thanks, Netflix!) but there isn't one single standout. Oh, maybe Good Night and Good Luck, which made me proud of journalism for a change. Dr. Strangelove was great. And I adored Bride and Prejudice, although I did not adore the person with whom I saw it.
30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
28, and I spent it with J at dinner and at the movies (at Good Night, come to think of it). A few days later, I had the most surprising surprise party in the world. This was a stunningly good birthday year.
31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If I had gone a whole year with no cavities. I made six months, but still shooting for the full 365.
32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Hahahaha, right. The trip to the Dayton Salvation Army Store with H. and K. helped things along, but it's still the same old.
33. What kept you sane?
Decaf coffee. And bloggers, actually -- I've found a bunch of new ones this year and sometimes their day-to-day routines bring such a welcome pattern to my own days.
34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I have a little crush on what's his face from the BBC Pride and Prejudice series now -- Mark Darcy, but I forget his real name. Er... er... Bridget Jones has it too...
35. What political issue stirred you the most?
Will break the normal self-imposed silence: I got really, really into the Sc**ter L*bby thing, and the J*d*th M*ll*r matter in its entirety had me paying very close attention professionally. Personally, I was moved and saddened and horrified by the news from Darfur, and how little all of us really know about it.
37. Who was the best new person you met?
Oh, J.
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005.
Oy. How about a nice quote instead:
If the real world were a book, it would NEVER find a publisher. Overlong, detailed to the point of distraction -- and ultimately, without a major resolution. -- spoken by Hamlet in Jasper Fforde's Something Rotten, which I am currently reading
Also:
I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. --Douglas Adams
39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
That's really hard... this doesn't sum up my year, and the main thrust of this song really has nothing to do with anything that happened to me this year. But um, yeah... it's probably my favorite song from an album that will make me think of this year? Or something? OK, whatever:
from "Postcards from Mexico":
When you slammed through my life
Like a screen door in a hurricane wind,
All I could think was how to find you again.
But Route 80 was snowed under,
And the roads to the canyon were closed.
For our safety, I suppose.
The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
i'm a little hunk of tin
My own little hunk of tin -- not a Ford but a Honda -- had its first ever Great Big Adventure yesterday, when it decided it wanted to stop in the middle of Rock Creek Parkway. Just wanted to curl up in a little ball and go to sleep for a while, and stop going 40 miles an hour in the left lane in heavy traffic. And although I understand the feeling, it was slightly inconvenient.
Twenty-four hours and a new distributor later, it's found a new lease on life. The funny thing is that although I might has well have taken $500 and set it on fire just to watch it burn, I'm not even upset. That car has served me well since 1999, without a single complaint. It's earned a little downtime, right? $500 worth of downtime, oof, but still. Is it too much to ask for it to go another 100,000 miles without asking for another nap?
Twenty-four hours and a new distributor later, it's found a new lease on life. The funny thing is that although I might has well have taken $500 and set it on fire just to watch it burn, I'm not even upset. That car has served me well since 1999, without a single complaint. It's earned a little downtime, right? $500 worth of downtime, oof, but still. Is it too much to ask for it to go another 100,000 miles without asking for another nap?
Sunday, December 04, 2005
want to knit you a sweater, want to write you a love letter
So, I have a new theory on why this round of revisions on the book is killing me so slowly and softly with its song. Unbeknownst to me, I have turned into a tragic literary heroine and someone is drugging me with some kind of Snow White/Juliet/etc.-style sleeping potion. That's the only possible explanation, right?
I took a five-hour nap yesterday afternoon. Buoyed by the tiny boost -- "boost," because something that short-lived needs sarcasm quotes -- the sleeping marathon provided, I stayed out at a party semi-late last night and got up reasonably early to go to a knitting store with a friend. And now I just fell asleep for another two-hour stretch of my day. I just woke up. It's dark. Again, still.
Blame the weather, sure, but I have reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, remember? I love winter. I love that it's so cold in my room right now that I can't feel my fingertips. Hypothetically I love that, anyway. I am the picture of lassitude; I have become Miss Piggy without the bonbons or karate chopping. I didn't even have the energy to go to yoga this afternoon -- how could I possibly scream "hi-ya" and throw poor Kermit across the room.
If anyone's absolutely dying to get me a Chanukah present and hasn't yet, this would be good. Or this. Or maybe just these.
I took a five-hour nap yesterday afternoon. Buoyed by the tiny boost -- "boost," because something that short-lived needs sarcasm quotes -- the sleeping marathon provided, I stayed out at a party semi-late last night and got up reasonably early to go to a knitting store with a friend. And now I just fell asleep for another two-hour stretch of my day. I just woke up. It's dark. Again, still.
Blame the weather, sure, but I have reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, remember? I love winter. I love that it's so cold in my room right now that I can't feel my fingertips. Hypothetically I love that, anyway. I am the picture of lassitude; I have become Miss Piggy without the bonbons or karate chopping. I didn't even have the energy to go to yoga this afternoon -- how could I possibly scream "hi-ya" and throw poor Kermit across the room.
If anyone's absolutely dying to get me a Chanukah present and hasn't yet, this would be good. Or this. Or maybe just these.
Monday, November 21, 2005
finding faith and common ground
(Having now seen D*r and G*rlyman twice in as many months, I've decided that all song lyrics in my head belong to them.)
We fed 45 or 50 people in our house this weekend's pre-Thanksgiving festivities. At once. Really.
There was food as you have never seen food.
There was wine as you have never seen wine. Seriously, there are 24 empty bottles of wine in our recycling bin. We like wine here.
There was a red jello mold in the shape of the United States as you have never seen a red jello mold in the shape of the United States. People ate off the blue states first, so a big red glob of midwest and Florida was all that was left for a while. By the time we cleaned up, there was just a silver-dollar-sized chunk melting somewhere around Wyoming.
There were awesome friends as you have never seen awesome friends. They were all talking to other awesome friends, and it was really quite something.
There was cleaning up afterward as you have... well, you probably have seen cleaning up afterward like that after small-scale industrial disasters such as TMI.
But there was happy as you have never seen happy. You all had better come next year.
We fed 45 or 50 people in our house this weekend's pre-Thanksgiving festivities. At once. Really.
There was food as you have never seen food.
There was wine as you have never seen wine. Seriously, there are 24 empty bottles of wine in our recycling bin. We like wine here.
There was a red jello mold in the shape of the United States as you have never seen a red jello mold in the shape of the United States. People ate off the blue states first, so a big red glob of midwest and Florida was all that was left for a while. By the time we cleaned up, there was just a silver-dollar-sized chunk melting somewhere around Wyoming.
There were awesome friends as you have never seen awesome friends. They were all talking to other awesome friends, and it was really quite something.
There was cleaning up afterward as you have... well, you probably have seen cleaning up afterward like that after small-scale industrial disasters such as TMI.
But there was happy as you have never seen happy. You all had better come next year.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
look, ma...
... no cavities! It's sad that this has to be so exciting, but maybe if I didn't have cavities every single time I go to the damn dentist, it wouldn't have to be. But! Not this time! I saw for the first time my new W*tergate dentist next door to my office. He is very sweet and solicitous and also the dentist to some famous-for-DC celebrities; moreover, he told me I have no cavities, and therefore I love him. When he said he'd see me in six months, I almost kissed him.
This:
is on first Google image search page that comes up when you type in "no cavities." Hallelujah and pass the spinach, Olive Oyl.
This:
is on first Google image search page that comes up when you type in "no cavities." Hallelujah and pass the spinach, Olive Oyl.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
the paper they were signing said they'd never fight again
A Saturday morning moment of cosmic dissonance: I'm in the science and engineering library at the U of M*ryland, where J. goes to school, and I'm listening to his "Very Early Joan" (as in B*ez) CD, and all around me are SCIENTISTS who are WORKING on SCIENCE and ENGINEERING. The guy across from me looks like he hasn't seen the sun since the Reagan administration, and all around him are books with names like, and I am not making these up, "Levy Processes and Circumstantial Applications," "Service Design for Six Sigma" and something that literally has squiggly little symbols in the *title*. They should give tests before they let anyone in this place, and turn people like me away at the door.
I am very obviously goggling at this poor guy and should probably stop. But my library task for today is to read one book (with words, not symbols) I have to review this week and work on another one that I'm supposed to be editing, still, again, still still again still still still. Oof. I'm feeling somewhat fat and happy, as they say, as well as cosmically dissonant, and am not too inclined to start working on either of those things right now.
Ms. B*ez is giving me a bit of a headache.
These editorial cartoons about R*sa P*rks are really lovely. Interesting how many of them depict her in heaven... if there is a heaven or whatever, I sincerely hope no one has to take the bus there...
W*nkette posted the most brilliant of brilliant SCOTUS ideas yesterday: The baby panda for the next justice. Non-DCers, I have no idea if this has made national news, but the panda our zoo gave birth to a really cute cute cute tiny panda who just got its name last week. But up until then, many people (my coworkers included) were calling him "Butterstick," because when he was first born there were all these stories about how he was the size of a stick of butter. Anyway. This is a great idea.
And with that, I read. Or nap, maybe. Don't tell the scientists.
I am very obviously goggling at this poor guy and should probably stop. But my library task for today is to read one book (with words, not symbols) I have to review this week and work on another one that I'm supposed to be editing, still, again, still still again still still still. Oof. I'm feeling somewhat fat and happy, as they say, as well as cosmically dissonant, and am not too inclined to start working on either of those things right now.
Ms. B*ez is giving me a bit of a headache.
These editorial cartoons about R*sa P*rks are really lovely. Interesting how many of them depict her in heaven... if there is a heaven or whatever, I sincerely hope no one has to take the bus there...
W*nkette posted the most brilliant of brilliant SCOTUS ideas yesterday: The baby panda for the next justice. Non-DCers, I have no idea if this has made national news, but the panda our zoo gave birth to a really cute cute cute tiny panda who just got its name last week. But up until then, many people (my coworkers included) were calling him "Butterstick," because when he was first born there were all these stories about how he was the size of a stick of butter. Anyway. This is a great idea.
And with that, I read. Or nap, maybe. Don't tell the scientists.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
brown paper packages tied up with strings
It is fall, and that is my favorite thing.
I am now going to spend the rest of the evening unpacking all my junk and reading the new J*nnifer W*iner book with the ridiculous cover that I spent a ridiculous amount of money on this weekend. I can't remember the last time I bought a new hardcover book, but between this and Sunday's ticket to "In Her Shoes," I might as well start mailing my paycheck directly to Ms. W*iner. But I would, if she wanted, because I love her.
I am now going to spend the rest of the evening unpacking all my junk and reading the new J*nnifer W*iner book with the ridiculous cover that I spent a ridiculous amount of money on this weekend. I can't remember the last time I bought a new hardcover book, but between this and Sunday's ticket to "In Her Shoes," I might as well start mailing my paycheck directly to Ms. W*iner. But I would, if she wanted, because I love her.
Friday, October 07, 2005
route 80 was snowed under..
... and the roads to the canyon were closed
for our safety, I suppose...
Before I forget: Girlym*n, people. They are amazing. H. and I saw them open for Dar last weekend and I've never loved a band so much or so instantly. I now go into Girlywithdrawal if I don't hear the CD at least once every two hours.
For a couple weeks, almost every day, I keep being reminded of Angie's mom's question: How good can you let things get? It's a really profound question in its way, a way I can't communicate right now, but... the things, they are good. He's good. We're good. Better than good, good in a way I didn't know things could be.
It's also kicking the crap out of my vocabulary, apparently. And, as most of you know, my natural superstition about jinxing myself (now joining forces with my paranoia about revealing things to the whole world wide web) doesn't approve of me saying much more -- in fact, it thinks even this has gone a little too far.
The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.
for our safety, I suppose...
Before I forget: Girlym*n, people. They are amazing. H. and I saw them open for Dar last weekend and I've never loved a band so much or so instantly. I now go into Girlywithdrawal if I don't hear the CD at least once every two hours.
For a couple weeks, almost every day, I keep being reminded of Angie's mom's question: How good can you let things get? It's a really profound question in its way, a way I can't communicate right now, but... the things, they are good. He's good. We're good. Better than good, good in a way I didn't know things could be.
It's also kicking the crap out of my vocabulary, apparently. And, as most of you know, my natural superstition about jinxing myself (now joining forces with my paranoia about revealing things to the whole world wide web) doesn't approve of me saying much more -- in fact, it thinks even this has gone a little too far.
The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
sixteen, going on sixty-four
Isn't it funny when something happens that you've wanted for a long time -- a thought like a rough stone that's been rubbed smooth -- and it's both nothing and exactly like you expected? And you feel like you're in a new place you never quite imagined, but also a totally familiar place that isn't really any different at all?
Quite apart from the above, someone at a dinner party last weekend brought up the subject of natural age, and I've been thinking about it ever since.
I love the idea that internally, we all sort of settle at some age that expresses ourselves perfectly -- one of my roommates' natural ages is about 52, for example, because he's kind of a middle-aged soul, somehow. Another roommate's natural age is 13; he plays practical jokes that involve pantsing people and displays fanatical devotion to cartoons with scatalogical humor, but those are more symptoms of his natural age than the real reason he is just intrinsically 13. It's not the fact that he likes that stuff that makes him 13, it's being 13 that makes him like it.
But it works for some people and not for others. H. and I couldn't really figure out our own, and some of my coworkers were totally obvious and others not at all. I might be developing a theory that the people who don't really have a clear natural age are actually currently AT their natural ages, but I'm not sure if that really holds true.
Does this make sense to any of you? Several readers of this blog have natural ages that seem blindingly apparent to me, but I don't know, maybe it's less clear when you're looking at yourself. What are your natural ages? Thoughts? Feelings? Just want to share a self-indulgent metaphor about stones? Like sands through the hourglass... :)
Quite apart from the above, someone at a dinner party last weekend brought up the subject of natural age, and I've been thinking about it ever since.
I love the idea that internally, we all sort of settle at some age that expresses ourselves perfectly -- one of my roommates' natural ages is about 52, for example, because he's kind of a middle-aged soul, somehow. Another roommate's natural age is 13; he plays practical jokes that involve pantsing people and displays fanatical devotion to cartoons with scatalogical humor, but those are more symptoms of his natural age than the real reason he is just intrinsically 13. It's not the fact that he likes that stuff that makes him 13, it's being 13 that makes him like it.
But it works for some people and not for others. H. and I couldn't really figure out our own, and some of my coworkers were totally obvious and others not at all. I might be developing a theory that the people who don't really have a clear natural age are actually currently AT their natural ages, but I'm not sure if that really holds true.
Does this make sense to any of you? Several readers of this blog have natural ages that seem blindingly apparent to me, but I don't know, maybe it's less clear when you're looking at yourself. What are your natural ages? Thoughts? Feelings? Just want to share a self-indulgent metaphor about stones? Like sands through the hourglass... :)
Friday, September 09, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
close my eyes, make the pies all day
I set my alarm for 8 this morning, ambitiously planning to bake and clean and iron and yoga today. Instead, I finished the last of "Reading Lolita in Tehran" and can't bring myself to leave my room and drag my laundry basket down the stairs. I need to make some sort of fancy dessert for a dinner party tonight and figure out just what exactly to do with the huge quantities of peaches and apples and blackberries Shannon and Gaby and I picked yesterday. Twenty-six pounds of peaches, three and a half pounds of blackberries and what, maybe eight pounds of apples between us? It's quite a haul, in any case.
Great Gaby moment: We're walking back to the car with all the fruit, and Shannon points out the ripening pumpkins in the field next to us.
Shannon: The pumpkins aren't ready yet, but soon they'll be nice and big.
Gwen: And orange.
Gaby: And delicious!
Delicious! Here is one of Shannon's photos, because I do not have my digital camera yet, but I swear I will someday:
Great Gaby moment: We're walking back to the car with all the fruit, and Shannon points out the ripening pumpkins in the field next to us.
Shannon: The pumpkins aren't ready yet, but soon they'll be nice and big.
Gwen: And orange.
Gaby: And delicious!
Delicious! Here is one of Shannon's photos, because I do not have my digital camera yet, but I swear I will someday:
Monday, August 22, 2005
makes you think all the world's a sunny day
Rrrrrrrrrroad trip photos are up in one of those fancy-pants Kodak Galleries -- go to the slideshow to start your exciting journey through our trip. Don't expect too many pictures of landmarks or anything, but do expect pictures of ducks, dogs and racist signs. Woo!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
I was f-i-n-e fine
Tomorrow begins the glorious, glorious period at work known as the "dark" or "nonpublishing" weeks, in we do not put "new content" on the "site" so we have time to catch up on old projects and start new ones. Dark weeks are the most wonderful time of the year.
And I'm going to do an off-the-job dark-week project as well: Fix my damn room. For those of you who don't know, I have a gigantic room. Literally, five of my junior-year dorm rooms could fit in this room -- it has a sort of office-y desk area, a sitting area with a couch and a recliner, a bed area, an area where only things I don't use live.
But that whole thing about how you expand or contract to fill a space? True. I'm tired of the gigantic yellow room being a gigantic yellow mess. What's stopped me from dealing with this before, aside from abject laziness, is that it's not unliveable... the mess is sort of underground, in the structural organization. Like, I can see the top of my desk, but my phone bill from 2002 is cohabitating with my vacation photos from last summer, and the big zip drive I haven't used in three years is within easy reach but I can't find my favorite t-shirt.
Do any of you have organizational solutions you think I should implement? I'm thinking about going to the Container Store today just to look around and get ideas (read: I'm thinking about going to the Container Store today to wind up spending $50 on random things that probably won't help me but look pretty) but I'm pretty open to things. I would move furniture around, or acquire another piece of mass-produced Swedish yuppiedom if it would help.
Main problems:
1. Clothes.
1a. Exposed clothes. Why, when I have all this furniture, do I need these plastic bins for my socks and tanktops sitting out on the top of my stuff?
1b. Overcrowding. Must get rid of things. Must.
2. Bills and papers. Right now, they're in gray file folders that look nice and neat, but I don't want to pull them out and file things every time I get another piece of paper from the bank, so I pile everything on top of them, both obscuring their function and design.
3. Plants. Too many, most not thriving on sunless window sill (how am I slowly killing an aloe plant? Aren't they supposed to be unkillable?)
4. Weird bad area. The place near the couch where old things live.
5. Old laptop and printer. I need to sell these things on craigslist.
6. CDs. Except for the occasional new one, I haven't listened to a real live CD in like 2 years, since the birth of iTunes. Do you sell them to a second-hand place? Put them in a box in the basement?
So! I know many of you are organizationally inclined, so please feel free to offer any suggestions that have worked for you, especially in the bill-filing and clothes categories. Also, if you'd like to come over and magically complete this project for me, I would not complain.
And I'm going to do an off-the-job dark-week project as well: Fix my damn room. For those of you who don't know, I have a gigantic room. Literally, five of my junior-year dorm rooms could fit in this room -- it has a sort of office-y desk area, a sitting area with a couch and a recliner, a bed area, an area where only things I don't use live.
But that whole thing about how you expand or contract to fill a space? True. I'm tired of the gigantic yellow room being a gigantic yellow mess. What's stopped me from dealing with this before, aside from abject laziness, is that it's not unliveable... the mess is sort of underground, in the structural organization. Like, I can see the top of my desk, but my phone bill from 2002 is cohabitating with my vacation photos from last summer, and the big zip drive I haven't used in three years is within easy reach but I can't find my favorite t-shirt.
Do any of you have organizational solutions you think I should implement? I'm thinking about going to the Container Store today just to look around and get ideas (read: I'm thinking about going to the Container Store today to wind up spending $50 on random things that probably won't help me but look pretty) but I'm pretty open to things. I would move furniture around, or acquire another piece of mass-produced Swedish yuppiedom if it would help.
Main problems:
1. Clothes.
1a. Exposed clothes. Why, when I have all this furniture, do I need these plastic bins for my socks and tanktops sitting out on the top of my stuff?
1b. Overcrowding. Must get rid of things. Must.
2. Bills and papers. Right now, they're in gray file folders that look nice and neat, but I don't want to pull them out and file things every time I get another piece of paper from the bank, so I pile everything on top of them, both obscuring their function and design.
3. Plants. Too many, most not thriving on sunless window sill (how am I slowly killing an aloe plant? Aren't they supposed to be unkillable?)
4. Weird bad area. The place near the couch where old things live.
5. Old laptop and printer. I need to sell these things on craigslist.
6. CDs. Except for the occasional new one, I haven't listened to a real live CD in like 2 years, since the birth of iTunes. Do you sell them to a second-hand place? Put them in a box in the basement?
So! I know many of you are organizationally inclined, so please feel free to offer any suggestions that have worked for you, especially in the bill-filing and clothes categories. Also, if you'd like to come over and magically complete this project for me, I would not complain.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
a sad, sad limerick
There once was a girl from Lancaster
Whose book could be one huge disaster.
But she said with a grin, to her slight chagrin,
At least it is done, really actually done, and she, I mean I, won't be working on it any more because really it's actually done this time at least until an editor gets his or her hands on it which I hope happens someday because that would mean maybe I had an agent who maybe maybe please might be trying to sell -- sell? sell! -- the book and that would be so crazy that I'm almost scared to even imagine it so let's just concentrate on the fact that it's really actually done and shipped off to someone who's going to read it and comment which is scary but I'm not thinking about that either so let's just concentrate on the fact that it is really actually done. Which I already said. The end. Good thing I'm not trying to convince anyone to read my limericks, right?
Whose book could be one huge disaster.
But she said with a grin, to her slight chagrin,
At least it is done, really actually done, and she, I mean I, won't be working on it any more because really it's actually done this time at least until an editor gets his or her hands on it which I hope happens someday because that would mean maybe I had an agent who maybe maybe please might be trying to sell -- sell? sell! -- the book and that would be so crazy that I'm almost scared to even imagine it so let's just concentrate on the fact that it's really actually done and shipped off to someone who's going to read it and comment which is scary but I'm not thinking about that either so let's just concentrate on the fact that it is really actually done. Which I already said. The end. Good thing I'm not trying to convince anyone to read my limericks, right?
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
why you think the 'net was born?
You guys, how great was the to-Minnesota-and-home-again road trip. I'm back. It was great. There was too much funny (Anne) and awesome (Anne) and revealing (the Minnesota farmland) and weird (Nan the Innkeeper) and scary (Mall of America! oh my god) stuff to even try to describe here.
Photos will follow -- photos from the borrowed digital camera that revealed what a truly crap photographer I am. I take badly lit pictures of, like, pretty patterns on the sidewalk and funny ducks near Lake Michigan. I take a LOT of badly lit pictures other people's pets and random signs. I do not take pictures of the stuff you're supposed to take pictures of on vacation, like your traveling friend or the stuff you're actually seeing, so please do not expect them.
Off to the beach with Angie and co. on Thursday, and then I will be back for good until Labor Day. I came back from this vacation feeling like I never ever ever wanted to come back, like I wanted to stay in Ann Arbor and go to coffeeshops and live in Anne's apartment with her forever, but maybe the mini-vacation will be easier to leave. Doubting that, but let's hope.
Photos will follow -- photos from the borrowed digital camera that revealed what a truly crap photographer I am. I take badly lit pictures of, like, pretty patterns on the sidewalk and funny ducks near Lake Michigan. I take a LOT of badly lit pictures other people's pets and random signs. I do not take pictures of the stuff you're supposed to take pictures of on vacation, like your traveling friend or the stuff you're actually seeing, so please do not expect them.
Off to the beach with Angie and co. on Thursday, and then I will be back for good until Labor Day. I came back from this vacation feeling like I never ever ever wanted to come back, like I wanted to stay in Ann Arbor and go to coffeeshops and live in Anne's apartment with her forever, but maybe the mini-vacation will be easier to leave. Doubting that, but let's hope.
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