Sunday, December 30, 2007

A New Year's Wish


I think sometimes about the pure arbitrariness of time measurement and how we designate some particular day or hour as an ending and another as a beginning. New Years in particular strikes me that way -- it isn't really connected to the natural signals of time passage. Solstice, a more traditional dividing point, is several days past. Other particular positions of sun and moon are used in other cultures. I'm not even sure where this particular designation of the New Year derives (and at the moment I'm too sleepy to look it up.)

But since this is when a majority of intelligent life on this planet has chosen to divide time, I hope for each of you a new beginning with the New Year. May 2008 bring you the lessons you need, the wisdom you lack, the love you want, and the end to some of your searches. May it bring to all the people of the world a little more understanding of how to live together tolerantly and peacefully, with greater harmony with our planet and with each other.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Another Pathetic Moment

Because political assasination has always proved, historically, to be so very effective in improving government...

After all, if you kill off all the people who disagree with you, doesn't that make you right? I mean, we are doing such a fine job of demonstrating this fact, I don't wonder that others want to follow, in their own, low budget way.

And it's a long tradition among peace loving people to bomb, shoot, stab, imprison, torture, drown or hang anyone who scares them.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Tis the Season to be Nasty

Christmas commercials are really starting to bug me. First was the stupid Best Buy commercial that emphasized greed. Now there's another Best Buy commercial -- a man in an office is confronted by his boss, a very aggressive guy who is complaining about his lack of a gift for his brother-in-law. The employee suggests a Best Buy gift card, and shows his boss one he's bought. The boss pockets it and walks off. GREED! and THIEVERY! and WORKPLACE HARASSMENT! And general rude, selfish behavior. Then there is the one with two guys fighting over a Best Buy box -- one brought a present, the other didn't have one to give back (because, of course, one gives presents only to get presents back), so the first guy decides to keep the gift while the second one wants it. Greed. Pure, simple greed over those stupid blue and yellow boxes.

It's not funny. It adds more to the pile of things that make me avoid Best Buy. Why do we think these things are funny? It's funny when the little guy gets beat on by the big guy. It's funny when people show how little they care about family and friends when there's some magic thing waiting for them. I know Best Buy is a retail store trying to make money, therefore they want people to desire the things Best Buy sells. I'd just be more disposed toward them if their message was more in line with the idea that 1) we give gifts because we want to show others we care and think about them 2) that holidays are a time we set aside for special recognition of others, which we choose to do via gifts. I know fully well that a retail business doesn't want people to think that the things we buy AREN'T the be-all and end-all, but I wish they weren't so OBVIOUS about it.

And now it's Heineken commercials that are bugging me. A guy walks into a home Christmas party with a 6-pack of the beer, and everyone is grabbing those beers until they are all gone. Then another guy walks in with a 12 pack. The first guy targets him to continue the beer stealing.

This one is in the same vein as one where a guy signals for another Heineken from the bar, which is passed along from person to person until some guy with a mixed drink gets it. He then takes the beer and passes his glass along to the original guy.

Both these commercials say that Heineken is so good that it's ok to steal it from someone else. The Christmas one in particular says that sharing is going to leave a person without anything, so you're better off being greedy (there it is again) and hoarding beer for yourself.

I'm willing to bet there are other commercials I haven't seen that promote similar themes, and that thought makes me feel uncomfortable. I think that advertising both affects how we see ourselves and reflects how we see ourselves. I try to stay very conscious of the meta-messages in advertising. These messages bother me a lot.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

And What Have You Done?

I've donated 20180 grains of rice.

I've got a lot of things on my mind currently -- The Husband departs for locations northward in a little less than 2 weeks and he has nothing packed. We need to get the security system turned back on, which means getting a land line turned on for the house (haven't had one of those in 5 years or so). Need to get back on the packing-up-to-move bandwagon and start stacking boxes in the garage. House needs cleaning, which I am barely inclined to do.

And then there are the things I want to do but haven't -- books to read, writing to write, organizing to be organized. To save money, I'm going to be shutting down the HVAC and using fans or space heaters for the rooms I'm in. I'm emptying and closing down part of the house, which means more packing. Our income is about to be slashed by three quarters, so living in this house is going to be problematic if I can't control my expenses. That means trying not to HAVE any expenses per se.

On top of that are a couple of less pleasant issues with family that must be dealt with, for which I have no energy left. There are the usual burdens of this time of year -- thoughts of my mom, my dad, even my pets now gone. The day is grey, chilly and damp. I have to plan defenses against my own propensity for depression. I have to take on duties that were never mine before. I've never actually lived by myself for any extended period of time -- my life has been, for all the difficulties, relatively sheltered. So this will be a difficult time as I adjust to being on my own for more than a few weeks. Even though the Husband will be visiting as much as he can, we can't afford a lot of weekends home.

The house must sell. It must sell soon. I've lived, it feels like, on the edge of a cliff for a year now, teetering, waiting to fall off and see if I can fly. I can't crawl back to the flatland behind me, but I can't get airborne either. The particular tension of having to hold on to the edge takes all my effort to withstand and maintain. Nothing I do or can do will make a difference (unless I win the lottery.)

So I think I'll donate some more rice.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Go. Do This.



My average vocabulary level is 47, and my highest is 49. I've donated over 12000 grains of rice so far, and right now I'm trying to guess this:


azygous
means:

Monday, December 17, 2007

Is obvious

The Jammies made me do it.



Your Score: The Cat


You scored 65% domestic, 27% gregarious, 25% trickster, and 58% intellect!




Domestic, Solitary, Serious, Intellectual: you are the Cat!

Cat represents a balance of strength in both physical and spiritual, psychic and sensual powers, merging these two worlds into one. Curious, intelligent, and physically adept, cat people tend to live in a world all their own.


This test categorized you based on four different axes of personality, which were then associated with a different animal. The four axes, as well as all possible results are explained below.


Wild/Domestic: This first axis categorizes you based on how much you are drawn to the outdoors, versus how much you are drawn to civilized situations. Domesticity has many shapes and forms, and varies from the joy of dolphins leaping next to a ship to the steadfast loyalty of a family dog.


Gregarious/Solitary: This axis measures how solitary you are. If you scored high, it means that you enjoy the company of other people, while a low score indicates that you prefer a more solitary lifestyle.


Trickster/Serious: This axis measures how well you line up with conventional trickster archetypes. People who fall into this archetype have a sense of humor and an excitable, highly chaotic streak. Scoring low doesn't mean that you don't have a sense of humor; it just means that you probably don't think dynamite is very funny.


Intellectual/Emotional: This last axis determines whether you are more emotional -- acting based on feelings and instinct, or rational and intelectual -- acting more on thought than on your gut feelings.

Link: The Animal Archetype Test written by crumpetsfortea on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

I is an Elf






Christmas Elf Name


My Christmas Elf Name is





Get your Christmas Elf Name at JokesUnlimited.com



It Improves

The beloved Husband bought me a candle that smells JUST LIKE a Christmas Tree. My spirits are lifting. We wasted the whole weekend playing City of Heroes, I got another 1500+ words into my novel, the weather turned cold, and more stuff got wrapped and shipped. In general, I like life better this week than last week.

I'll catch up on my lying ways shortly.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Is a Pattern

Ok, last night I had headache and sick stomach. I took meds and felt better.

This morning, I felt better, but now I have headache and sick stomach. I haven't eaten anything yet and now I'm not inclined to do so.

Is this a pattern? I don't feel sick, just ick.

This is piling with other things to sap the last three drops of interest in Christmas I had right out.

Friday, December 14, 2007

For Rien



Yes, there are other cats in the world who nap belly up. They just get suspicious when they see me with a camera. They know I have a weblog.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

And this

constitutes the larger half of my holiday decorating. I'm sort of wrapping presents.

I'm really not that interested this year.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Germs

I haz dem.

Yes, the season of virii is upon me. So far, it's just a cough and a scratchy throat. The Husband had this particular germ for the last two weeks and finally it has come to me. I say 'feh'.

I'll get back to you.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Lies, Lies, Lies, Yeah! Part 3

It's an old adage -- once you start lying, it's hard to stop.


Three confabulations for Jammies

1) Cover girl Jammies lived off her trust fund for a while as a New York party promoter. Famous for her neoprene bikinis and sequined faux albino zebra striped trench coat, she stunned the fashion world by attending Andre J.'s birthday party at Hiro's in fuschia colored faux Lasa Apso footie pajamas (complete with little bows on the ears and small wet nose) and 4 inch heel electric blue Manolos to which she had attached miniature LED scrollers that read "Jammies is TEH". Her entrance brought the house down. The NYPD were called to control the riot.

2) Jammies was one of Jackson Pollock's many disciples, following up his 'action painting' style with her 'hyperactive painting'. Also drawing on Pollock, who used industrial and household paints instead of artist's oils, she favored the use of Jello and Kool-aid, mixed with Elmer's Glue, due to her own straitened financial condition. Her relationship with Pollock caused a certain amount of tension with Lee Krasner, Pollock's wife, and Jammies ended her association with the alcohol fueled genius after Krasner threw a bowl of potato salad at her, missed, hit one of Jammie's canvases, and claimed the result as her own artwork.

3) Jammies spent five years at the Martha Graham Center of Contemporary Dance, as both a lead dancer and choreographer trainee. Dances she created included "Superheroes without Capes", performed first at the Lincoln Center, and "Big Otters, Little Ponds", which toured North America for six months to varied critical and popular response. Discouraged by what she termed "the stubborn misunderstanding of the mustelids", Jammies retired from dance to become a assistant at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.


Three fabrications for Jeff

1) Teen aged Jeff caused consternation among his teachers when he turned in an extensively researched senior project on the notorious Leopold and Loeb' 'perfect crime' which included a diorama with two modified G.I. Joe's and a Skipper doll dressed in period costume, a reproduction ransom note, and other items of a suspicious nature. The project was confiscated by the local police and later turned over to the FBI. The locations of all children in the area under age 14 were ascertained and no suspicious bodies were located. Jeff admitted nothing, declaring his innocence repeatedly. His history teacher awarded him an "A".

2) Jeff has achieved some local fame in the town of Natchez, Mississippi by his occasional appearances as "Old Man River". Dressed in a rubber wet suit covered in bits of waterlogged wood, assorted trash, a piece of a steamer paddle wheel, iron scrap, some human bones, and other detritus, and a long bedraggled white beard and wig, Jeff walks the shore of the great river near Natchez and berates the local inhabitants for slovenly river care. His appearance has been the spark for two river cleaning events, both of which raked 8.4 tons of garbage out of a quarter mile stretch of the river. The events were considered failures, however, when it was discovered that by morning, Jeff had put most of the garbage back because, as he said, "If he didn't, he'd have nothing to bitch about."

3) Jeff spent several years in training with a San Fransisco troupe of Beijing opera performers, where he was groomed for the Sheng role. While applauded for his performance as Guan Gong, the Chinese God of War, Jeff was reluctant to play the 'red faced' roles and expressed a yearning to be in the Chou role, despite its lower level of stage time, because he had developed an unhealthy attachment to the guban. It was rumored that he slept and ate with the traditional instruments. His activities so unnerved his fellow performers that he was ejected from the troupe. He worked for a while as a clerk in a UPS store, but his painted face makeup and elaborate costumes caused him to knock over boxes and even Chinese customers would not come into the store.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Lies, Lies, Lies, Yeah! Part 2

You'd think lying was easy, but that's only if you aren't doing a good job. It's work, I tell you!

Six lies for Ken (or five lies and a half-truth)

1) Ken has baffled science for years since his pediatrician discovered he had specialized facial pits that could sense infrared radiation. His mother, embarrassed by the attention, insisted he'd just tucked some batteries and lights from his disassembled Simon (tm) electronic game.

2) Ken was for a short while a suspect in the failure of Project Vanguard, until FBI investigation found conclusive evidence that he had not yet been conceived. However, other evidence remains in his recently declassified FBI file alluding to a time traveling incident that will take place in 2009, and a scrap of men's Hanes Underwear.

3) Ken underwent two years of intensive therapy for post traumatic stress syndrome stemming from a childhood incident, in which he wandered into a skate park during a training session of the Buxom Blonde Bombers, who mistook him for a midget mascot of an opposing team and buried him under a mass tackle. The therapy was mostly successful, although the sight of a buxom blonde will occasionally make him twitch, and the sound of roller skates can cause undue excitement. He takes medication to treat these symptoms.

4) Ken is one of the leading xenobiologists searching for the legendary Pigeontoed Rocky Mountain Ape. His writings on the subject include the story of his single face-to-face encounter, when the Kooplatush (as the native tribes of the area called the creature) tripped and fell into Ken's tent while trying to cross a field in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, the Kooplatush destroyed all of Ken's carefully rigged photographic equipment, so no evidence of that kind has been produced. Rumors are, though, that certain of these photographs can be purchased from Weird_Porn.com.

5) Ken still holds the record at his elementary school for stuffing the most jelly beans up his nose. A gum-and-marker 3-d commemorative portrait of his triumphant moment is preserved on the underside of desk 15, room 204.

6) Ken spent 10 years as the foremost director and producer of equine erotic film. The familiar "Big Stallion" emblem appears on many of the most well known 'blue horse' movies. His career was ended, however, when the filly Ta Wee sued him for releasing photographs of her taken before her illustrious racing career. The photographs showed Ta Wee in compromising positions with another filly. She accused him of attempting to blackmail her after her early wins.



Three lies about Jay


1) Jay suffers from a rare condition known as 'porcine magnetism'. Whenever bacon is in proximity to him, it is irresistibly drawn into his mouth. The phenomenon is under study by JLA and Stephen Hawkings is said to be writing a paper including an explanation of 'porcine magnetism'.

2) Jay is an avid mouldywarp hunter, and has taken his place in the Mouldywarp Hunter's Hall of Fame in Alms, GA among the exemplars of the sport. His prize winning take was a 22 inch Golden Mole during a trip to South Africa. Some disputes arose by competitors declaring the Golden Mole was not a 'true mole'. Jay was able to silence these naysayers via his ninja assassin executive assistant. No one has stepped forward to remove his plaque from the hall since.

3) Jay has the world's third largest collection of famous toenail clippings. The Left Front Big Toe Edge of George Plimpton recently sold at auction for a record $7.50.

Lies, Lies, Lies, Yeah! Part 1

Hmm. People fear the lie. Odd, that, because we are all accustomed to lies, in all their myriad shapes, sizes, colors and uses.

Anyway...

Three Lies About Buzz

1) Buzz achieved notoriety in his youth by reenacting Lady Godiva's famous ride through the streets of Coventry, clad only in his nose hair. There were no reports of anyone being struck blind for peeking, and rumor has it that he earned about $15 in singles stuffed into his horse's girth strap.

2) Buzz rose to a brief and giddy fame as a drag queen couturier in Chicago in July of 1987, known mostly for his highly imaginative use of chicken feathers, soup can tops, and iridescent sequins. He was unseated from his throne by a designer known as Pu-Pu and a fall in the chicken feather market.

3) Chief Buzz Paheka Odonkedonk, leader of the little known and mostly non-existant Padonkadonk hapu of the Maoiri, publicly failed in eight of his last ten attempts to hunt and kill a great boar. His two successes were both later revealed to involve prepackaged soy bacon.



Three Lies about Scott

1) While he never allows his own name to be used in the credits, preferring to work under the alias Slobomor Scovotnick, Scott was a popular character actor in Russian Westerrn films. He was distinguished by a convincing Tex-Czech accent, and played such diverse roles as the hog-killing bounty hunter in Большие пушки на лошадях and the school marm in Повелительница имеет усик.

2) Scott has written, produced, and done the lead voice acting in a series of audio-only self help books for rodents. His most popular titles (via Audible.com/rodentia) are "Big Balls, Big Hearts: A Guide to Gerbil Polyamory" and "Seeds and Weeds: Getting into the Birdfeeder You Want".

3) Scott is frequently called upon for his diplomatic skills as emissary between the US and the island of Ikkiput, one of the less reputable of the Antipodal Islands (49.69° S 178.74° E) in the South Seas. This island was declared in 2001 to be part of the Rhomboid of Evil by President Bush when CIA reports indicated that the Ikkiputtians were secretly stockpiling Dixie Chick cds as part of a Weapons of Mass Destruction plan.


Do you want some lies of your own? Post a comment.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Ruining all the Quiet

Yes, I'm been -- at least on my scale -- pretty quiet around here lately. It's a combination of trying to spend more time writing, things I can't talk about, things there's no point in talking about, and things I'm bored with talking about, which doesn't leave much left over except talking about why I'm not talking about things.

Did you get all that? There will be a quiz.

So, just for my own entertainment, I offer a little challenge. Reply in the comments here, and in my next posts I will make up three lies about you, some of which may be slanderous, some of which may be PG 13, and none of which will look good on your resume (although you can try it if you want).

Consider it a little Holiday gift.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Can a Person Have Less Than No Life?

>no life...?

I have Facebook. Because I have gone from having no life at all to having even less than that.

But really, I'm just there for the Vampires.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Best Comment of the Week

Swiped without shame from Pipedreams, and from the Man himself

...after all this time, I'm not even sure if my badonk can still handle any adonk.


Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Is done

Time to verify my word count.

NaNo is over for another year.

I'm taking a nap just as soon as I get my little blogbutton thingie.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Conundrum...or not

Is it better to

1) spend $5000 on laser eye surgery that will correct my distance vision (which I've never had, thus meaning I require glasses for driving/theatre/reading the blackboard) and then buy reading glasses for the rest of my life

Or

2) spend $500 for one new pair of distance/driving glasses and one new pair of reading glasses, and replacing them every 2-4 years for the rest of my life? (the cheapie cheaters from the pharmacy don't cut it.)

Yes, the presbyopia is a reality. Not just myopic anymore, although I get to KEEP that, and the astigmatism. They can't correct presbyopia with laser surgery or even lens implants.

Important note -- I'm going to be more annoyed with wearing reading glasses than I've ever been wearing glasses to drive, since I spend far more of my daily life needing to see up close than I ever spend in a car needing to see at a distance, which leaves me with

3) get arm extensions for reading and give up all close work/beading/jewelry making/sewing

"Be free from glasses"? Um, no, now I'll have to wear glasses MORE THAN EVER. I'm not seeing any winning outcomes here.

Stupid technology.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Balance

There are great parts of my life. There are sucky parts.

There are successes, and failures.

It's not really surprising. It certainly isn't unique.

Mostly, I'm tired. I feel like I should retreat to a nice cave somewhere, maybe furnished with a mossy rug and a fire pit.

Winter comes. Hibernation time. Then spring, and time to awaken, and maybe eat some berries.

Mmmm, berries.

Anyway, I'll be around later. If I'm not where you expect me to be, check my cave. I'll be underground somewhere.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Clever title, ya ya ya

Thanksgiving was...a few hours spent with relatives at a mediocre restaurant eating a nearly forgettable meal, then a few hours more helping the MIL install her new flatscreen TV and pull some boxes from her attic. After this, on the way home, we were drawn by the lure of Wal-Mart lights where we bought stuff to make BLTs (much better than the turkey, etc. that afternoon) and witnessed the hurried preparations for Black Friday.

We are not planning to leave the house today. I can hear the distant roar of the shoppers from here.

NaNo word count is rising nicely and is about 38,258 at the moment. I am planning to continue my forward plod, perhaps to get ahead. There is huge satisfaction in finishing before the deadline, although with my poor luck on the site, I may not get an upload done so I can get my little NaNo blog widget, which would be sort of sad.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Married Thing

Friday night, the Husband and I head over to Book Pimp and TOAS's place for fabulous-yet-homey dinner preparations. We decided to pick up the items we needed at a grocery store near their house, so nothing would spoil if we got caught in traffic. Of course, on the way there we got caught in traffic, as the Husband (he was driving AND navigating) had forgotten said grocery store of his choice is not only on a median traffic route connected to a major traffic route, but also right next to one of the larger malls in the area.

On the way there, just before the turn into the grocery store, I saw one of those light-up street signs they have in the better areas, except this one was bright yellow and, when I first looked at it, said "Presbyterian Crossing".

I was stunned at both the specificity and the inherent discrimination. Then I blinked, and the letters rearranged (without benefit of Vanna) to say "Pedestrian Crossing".

"You know, " I said to him, still a little stunned. "For a second, I thought that sign said..."

"Presbyterian crossing?" he finished. "So did I, and I couldn't figure out why they needed their own crossing."

Marriage is having the same hallucinations as your spouse.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Two Things

Thing 1. I am still plodding away on NaNo. I'm about 4000 words behind, so I'm chugging to catch up.

Thing 2. I am published.

Monday, November 12, 2007

What I Really Want

I have another commercial I hate. This one is a Best Buy commercial. It's Christmas and a woman (blonde, perky, round cheeks and snub nose -- what movie was she in? I remember her!) is fondling a big Best Buy gift. The man says "You can open it after we come back from Grandma's". So they drive to Grandma's house. She's standing out front, smiling, waving, this sweet looking woman. They yell "Merry Christmas, Grandma!" Then the woman says -- with a most evil look -- "I Think We're Done Here." They drive off.

Greed. It's all about the greed. Best Buy sells such wonderful stuff that it's worth more than the love of family, kindness, spending time with others, or even commitment and promises.

Lately, I've been getting a lot of messages about consumerism -- that is, the CREATION of need in order to supply a market. The idea is that someone makes a product and then spends money convincing people they need this product (as opposed to the old fashioned idea of finding a need and making a product to fill it.) Radio news series, magazine articles, a lecture on tape I listened to in the car...just bits and pieces filtering to me from different sources, but all with the same message. So now I'm looking at my own consumer habits. Oh, I have am a good American Consumer. I find peace in the retail outlet, and somewhere in my brain is a voice that says if I only find the right box, bag, can, carton, CD, DVD, dress, shirt -- whatever -- I will find happiness, fulfillment, contentment, love, success, and the perfect jeans to make me look skinny.

Only that hasn't happened yet, and I don't believe it will.

Sam Keene calls it a myth, the Myth of Consumerism. He asks "What do you really want? What do you REALLY want?" So, as Christmas approaches, I'm thinking carefully about what it is I want and what I don't want.

I'm certain that nothing I want can be found at Best Buy. That's for sure.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Fast Action

Bea is home safe. I had just finished posting, and did a little crying, when I heard The Husband. Bea had hidden in the shed at the side of the house, not coming out to our calls or offers of tasty treats (which is pretty much Bea-Typical behavior -- she's very good at ignoring EVERYTHING.)

So, if you did happen to squeeze out a good thought, THANK YOU.

Prayer


Think a good thought for my cat, Bea.

Last night she and Ben ripped through a window screen and got out. Ben came back this morning, yowling to come inside. We haven't seen or heard Bea yet. We haven't found her anywhere. She's not an outdoor cat, so she must have been chasing something or followed Ben.

This isn't a good area for outside cats.

Think a good thought for her that either she will come home soon, or she is peaceful now.

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Nano update

I've gotten over 10,000 words written. I'm falling behind even as I type this, because these words don't count.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

It's NaNoWriMo time again

Yeah, it's November, and the masochism has set in. I'm doing NaNo for the third year. I thought about NaNoBlogMo, but I'd rather put the effort toward the actual writing. I'm beginning to see some results!

Anyway, I'll check in now and again just so the three of you who still read this will know I'm alive.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

It's Almost Poetry

Because Her Royal Highness declared it a meme... Google-oetry


Aer Lingus Advertisements
Murderer Lizzie Bordon
Swiffer Courtroom commercial

Things that fool your eye

Marlo Thomas Bio
Stinky People
The South Will Rise Again

I can't believe it either

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Praise the Tech

I was putting the bedsheets I washed yesterday into the dryer. I turned on the dryer. I heard this weird thumping noise. Nothing should be thumping. So I stopped the dryer and hunted around...

and found the remote control to the TV I'd been looking for.

It still works. It smells nice, too.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Stupid, It Burns

Just plain annoying, especially after reading about why we are getting dumber, is a silly Swiffer commercial.

The scene -- a courtroom. A woman is testifying. The lawyer -- apparently the prosecutor -- is asking her what she saw. She talks about the evidence being all over the floor (so clevah!). The prosecutor says "Can you point to the defendant?" She points an accusing finger at a broom sitting behind a table. "There! RIGHT there!"

D'uh!

Didn't they mean something else, like, oh, perpetrator? mess maker? I dunno, something that implied that the dirt on the floor was a CRIME or something?

Yeah, I know, it's a stupid commercial! What bothers me is the utter ignorance of the mistake. I'm no lawyer. What I know about courtroom procedure is from Perry Mason. But I knew that! Being a defendant does NOT mean one is guilty of anything. Innocent until proven guilty. The commercial intends to say the broom is guilty of leaving a mess behind, but all it DOES say is that the woman knows where the defendant in the courtroom is sitting.

And those implications bother me. Little breezes and all that. Little things, innocuous things, indicate where people's heads are. A TV commercial isn't the work of one person. A LOT of people work on them. Dozens of people. And none of them caught this big, fat, OBVIOUS mistake. Why is that?

Maybe because our understanding of our court system is shifting or fading? Do we now believe that to be accused is to be guilty? Courtrooms exist only as arenas, places of entertainment?

It makes me nervous, it does.

I wonder -- I've noticed commercials being edited and revised. If I sent off this little 'mistake', do you think they'd fix it?

Friday, October 19, 2007

Needing direction

I had a great post. Had this article I liked, had a link, was writing away at it, being almost funny and clever, when I realized I needed to get up and do something.

So I hit 'save now', which is SUPPOSED to save a draft of the post to the Blogger back-end/dashboard thingie, so you can work on it and publish later.

And it went up Blogger's ass, never to be seen again.

Just sorta ruined my Friday. And I have a nail in my rear tire, so I have to remove the tire, get it fixed, and put it back on (well, I get to supervise while The Husband does this, because even though I CAN, I don't WANNA). I cleaned out his van, though, and threw away the WEEK OLD HALF-A-SANDWICH that's been putrefying in a bag in the back.

Oh, and I have two Bosszilla stories, just little ones. He's been getting ambitious with the computer lately -- he does email, he prints it, and he even looks up websites for himself from time to time (I still order stuff for him on MY Amazon account -- he is SO DAMNED LUCKY I'm honest, because I HAVE his American Express Card). So, anyway, we have two little incidents today.

The first one -- he downloads an email attachment. It, of course, does NOT conveniently pop up in a bright red window saying "Here I am, Bosszilla! Here! HERE!". It does what most downloaded attachments do -- heads for the nearest inconvenient folder it can find, preferably one that's hidden and six layers down under a series of almost identically named folders. In this case, however, it managed to get to his 'My Documents' folder.

That doesn't help. He doesn't BELIEVE in 'My Documents'. Oh no, it's GONE, faster than the Easter Bunny in Santa's sleigh. Where IS it? WHY can't he FIND it? He HIT the link that said OPEN. WHAT'S THIS FUCKING COMPUTER DOING? (that's a quote).

I suggested closing a couple of the windows he had open (full screen). OH, but he didn't HAVE any windows open, just AOL. I decided that, since someone else was in the office with him, I could safely evacuate the area. I don't know how it ended, but then again, maybe I don't want to know.

The second one -- He's having a meeting and just before it, he hands me a business card for a new business venture of his. "Go to that address", he said, pointing to the bottom of the card. "I want it up for my meeting."

There is an email address and a url, but he's pointing to the email. It's still early and pre-caffeine, so I type in the email address after he leaves. It, of course, produces an error message. I check my typing -- error -- and fix it -- one of those pages where they try to sell you a web address. So I look at the thing, realize at last that it's an email, and type in the web address. The website comes up.

"No, that's not the one Mrs. Bosszilla got last night. Go to this one -- there's nothing there." I let the illogic of this go by and type in the last part of the email address, where the server is. It comes up with a mostly blank page that requires a log-in.

"This looks like a back-end site," I say in my best geekspeak. "You have to log in to get anywhere."

"No, no, that's the site for [new business venture] and there's nothing there. I'm gonna tell them we should either put something in there, or get rid of it."

"But the website is..."

"No, no, that's not OUR website, that's the main website for [business venture company]. What if someone goes to this like Mrs. Bosszilla? Why isn't something there?"

I refrain from attempting an explanation about all the strange things Mrs. Bosszilla has found online which I had to later correct or disprove. "But that's an email address, probably the server..."

Not good enough. I escaped to another office for the duration of the meeting, only to be called back up for the same thing. The OTHER members of this business venture were trying to explain the exact thing to him. He seemed much more likely to believe them, possibly because at least two of them had penises. Vaginas are stupid, you know. And that's why it was all my fault.

Oh, and one little extra story about Mrs. Bosszilla. She's a perfectly nice woman, and she HAS to be somewhat intelligent. But she had Bosszilla delegate a little project for some charity work she's doing -- a series of plain, square signs, white with black text. She had a list of what text was required. At the bottom of the list was this note:

Arrows -- three right, three left.

I was proofing the signs when I got to the arrows. They were simple arrows, like this:


She'd drawn a little picture.

Three right.

Three left.

As if printing one arrow six times and then ROTATING them might be too difficult. I can only hope that the signs don't get shifted around before she gets them, or she may never figure out which arrow is which...

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Fool Your Eyes

Optical Illusions and Visual Phenomena

A collection of optical illusions including explanations of how and why they work, with some interactivity so you can see how the illusion fools the eye.

A perfect procrastination tool. It's educational, too!

The Right Brain vs Left Brain | The Daily Telegraph

The Right Brain vs Left Brain | The Daily Telegraph


Stolen without shame from Czeltic Girl.

After a minute or so, I can make her twirl in either direction. It's sort of fun, but I don't know what it means, except that apparently the problems I have telling right from left are consistent.

Or I'm a soooper genius.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Sticky Gooey Romance

Today is our 14th anniversary of the day we went to the courthouse and got government sanction of our relationship for purposes of property, inheritance and taxation.

THEY call it 'marriage', but with all the current controversy, I'm not using that word here. Marriage indicates a religious or societal/cultural sanctioning of a relationship, and the state shouldn't come near that with a 20 foot borrowed pole. Besides, that happened later.

So, today The Husband took me to our favorite local bistro for lunch. Glynne took it upon herself to do incredible special food for us -- roastbeef and wasabi rolls on spinach, Gorgonzola torts, and avocado/mint pea soup. I can't even begin to tell you how good it was, but there's something about wasabi that makes Gorgonzola too good to be true. She finished with a piled high chocolate cake decorated with strawberries, so rich that we could only eat half.

And - best of all -- The Husband had a replacement of my engagement necklace made. I had a lovely gold disc pendent that was lost/stolen during a hotel stay for Dragon*Con. I was hearthbroken that it was gone. I've missed it. Now I have a new one. It's a little smaller, but all the more precious to me. I have to get a good chain for it. I want it to have a dedicated chain (I have a couple that I trade out pendents).

I have the best Husband I could possibly have, the only one I ever want.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Oh! The Humanities!

First load moved to the future home-town area. We rented a trailer, loaded about half the storage unit's contents into it, and hauled it north. Next week, we do it again, only with a bigger trailer (we got the small one for this, as a practice run). We were thinking about keeping the Florida unit to stage out the house emptying, but considering we have a 10 x 20 in the northern unit for about $2o more than the 10 x 10 at home, we've decided it would be smarter to empty it and just pack into and out of the garage.

My back hurts.

Lesseeee...met up with someone I know from Goodreads, a very nice lady and author, Laura Stamps. I have her new book on my reading list. We caught up for a quick meal and conversation. I like making those connections from the interwebinet to the world of flesh and smells.

This move was MOSTLY books, which are heavy and yet delicate, and expensive to haul via a moving company. We did NOT go through every single box of the 30+ that made the trip. We only went through about 10, looking for a book The Husband needed (which we didn't find) and only removing about 10 books we realized we can't live without (5 for each, with one of mine technically shared). At this point, we are trying to plan contingency-wise while keeping our thoughts positive. The house WILL sell, and it will sell soon (that's the positive thought). If, however, some snag occurs and I have to remain behind to handle things while The Husband goes north to start classes, we want to have as much of the house emptied as we can, preferably already moved north. So, the books I have out right now may constitute my entire library for a while, (and I still have some shelves to pack down...*sigh*). It's hard to be both optimistic and prepared for the worst.

What books did I rescue from storage unit confinement? My copy of Good Poems, which I have been surprisingly lost without, a copy of Between Heaven and Earth which is on Chinese 5 element medicine/philosophy, and the first three of the Diane Duane 'Young Wizards' series that I want to read/reread.

I know, I know, like the 150 or so books I have at the house aren't enough. THEY MIGHT NOT BE!

Thursday, October 11, 2007

There In Your Car

Calif. bans smoking in cars with kids

I remember how I hated driving anywhere with my mom. I'd crack the window and press my face against it to get smoke-free air. Her smoking was the biggest factor in my not wanting to do things with her.

However, I'm sure that there will be many an outcry at this encroachment on the sacred ground of The Car. I think most of us view our cars as extensions of our personal space, part of our kingdom where we make the rules and control everything.

I'm still awaiting a ban on cell phone use in cars. Of everything people do in cars, that's the one I see the most when I see someone do something stupid while driving. The Husband and I now automatically look to see if the person who cut us off, turned improperly, failed to signal, wandered around the lane, braked suddenly, or almost hit us is talking blithely away with a cell phone plastered to his or her head. We see it so often that I'm now surprised when I don't see it. I have gotten to the point where I won't pick up my phone if I'm driving.

The Husband isn't so strict with himself, especially since his phone gets online maps. I can't convince him that he's doing those same scary things when HE drives trying to look at his phone or when trying to dial or talk to someone. Like most guys, he KNOWS he has super powers.

Monday, October 08, 2007

The Eh, It Was Mighty

Ok, so, we went to what is probably our last Necronomicon. If it wasn't for going out to dinner each night with some of the greatest people in the world, it would have been about as thrilling as watching paint dry.

Here are pictures. I have nothing to add really.








Ok, I lied. Is this not a very cool Godzilla costume? Was my favorite thing for the whole con.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

It's never enough

Tomorrow we drive halfway across the state (lucky for us, Florida is a very narrow state, and we are at the narrower bit of it) to Tampa for Necronomicon.

Yes, I know, we did this last year and the year before. You guys don't miss a trick, do you?

Of course, someone will want to see the house while we are gone. Someone wanted to see the house last weekend when we were down south. Therefore, no panic cleaning and final tidying and removal of catsmells could be done. Thus, we were told the house was "too cluttered" (I left two dishes that didn't get clean in the dishwasher on the counter) and "smelled of cat" (it had been 24 hours since I cleaned the cat boxes).

I mean, my house is currently cleaner (and has been cleaner longer) than it has been in the entire 15 years I've lived here, INCLUDING when my mother-in-law was about to arrive. *sigh*

But, after this weekend, we start shuttling our belongings out of our over-full storage unit to a new storage unit further north. Then we will start pulling yet more things out of the house and putting them INTO the storage unit, which will result in a steadily less cluttered/more empty house. At some point we will either be moving or we will be living with a chair, a bed, and a folding table.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Ok, So...I'm Awake.

The trip to Ft. Lauderdale was most worthwhile. The time spent with Kevin was all that -- food, cats, Godzilla, mockery -- what more could I want? Well, a bookstore, but on the whole, I think I might get that tonight, and even though it won't be a shiny new bookstore I'd never gotten fingerprints on, it will still be one.

Oh, and I think Hobgoblin will eventually recover from the trauma, but other members of the Hidden City CatHorde may be for ever scarred. I pet cats, and I make 'em like it.

Oh, and a Japanese Fusion Salsa/Frenchfry salad? Just off load that at my house and I'll get back to you (Kev, do they make that for take out? In gallon buckets?)

The flight down was bumpy but FAST. The drive home was bumpy and SLOW (comparatively). Nothing special to report -- no one questioned my choices in liquids in little containers, no one tried to confisticate my death-weapon hairstick, and while they tried to keep my shoes, eventually I persuaded them that, really, there wasn't much to x-ray. I did manage to loose a heel-cap somewhere. Maybe they removed it checking my hollow heels for explosives. I didn't even know the heels on those shoes was hollow.

Anyway, I'm home again for a bit. Next week, we are at Necronomicon in Tampa. After that, we start shuttling our belongings to the More-North-Than-This lands. Lots of travel this month.

And now I'm awake after a night of odd dreaming (won't even go into it. Too odd.) and I feel JUST like I spend 4 hours in a car and got home about midnight and have no caffeine in the house...like I might have to go hunting for a Diet Pepsi somewhere.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Friendly Skies

So, I'll be winging my way south this evening.

Would it be surprising to you to know I am not a fan of flying? I've flown many times. Hell, I've flown alone many times. I know what to do, I know it's statistically safe, and this is a very short flight.

I still get nervous. It's even more nerve wracking these days, with the extra serving of paranoia they give you instead of peanuts. I'm not worried about terrorists. I'm worried about what the airport security staff will decide I am using to take over the airplane. I'm not checking any luggage, so I have to scrutinize everything that goes into my purse and carry on.

And that's crazy-making. I've checked every bottle of liquid and gel stuff I'm carrying. All are clearly marked as being 2oz or less (because a mostly empty 2.5 oz bottle isn't allowed). The sharpest thing I'm taking is a nail clipper with a tiny file that's so freaking frail it might snap off if sneezed on. And my little survival kit of mini-multi-tool and Swiss army knife, that could be really helpful if, heaven forbid, the plane did go down? Got to leave it at home.

In any case, I'll be back -- with The Husband in tow -- tomorrow. And in the mean time, I've been promised a tour of Hidden City. That's worth the airplane ride!

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Good things

Life with hummus is always better than life without it.

The Husband is down south for a yoga conference. I'm flying down on Saturday. Until then, I'm living the single life.

Yeah, right. I'm doing exactly what I usually do, except now only the cats see it.

Hummus makes me happy. And chocolate covered strawberries. Comfort food.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

People Got Teef

To quote an old Whoopie Goldberg routine. (Tell me about dentistry in Jamaica).

I just returned from the dentist.

Good news! Yes, as always, I Need To Floss More, but in general (considering it's been a year and a half since my last cleaning) my mouth is very healthy and my teeth look good. Now they are all shiny and polished. Look, Ma! No Cavities!

Oh, and the new dentist at the office is maybe 1 point less than 'pretty much hot'. That's never bad. I've had two VERY hot (as in HAWT) dentists. One was the first dentist I ever went to as an adult, a young doctor in a new practice I thought was about the best looking thing in a smock and mask. His office was in an older building and not well air conditioned, so he tended not to wear a shirt under his smock, which meant I got glimpses of his muscular chest and back while he worked on my mouth. Talk about Distraction...sometimes I didn't notice when he asked "does that hurt"?

Then there was another hottie doctor several years ago at my current dentist's office -- tall, dark haired, with an aquiline nose and beautiful eyes. I was having jaw pain (the beginning of my TMD) and he was figuring it out. I felt better just looking at him.

*sigh* I hope went we get to the new house and the new life, we can find a competent yet terribly hot dentist. It makes cleanings so much nicer.

All Better

The best thing about headaches is when they GO AWAY. It took some special medication (hidden away in a cabinet because it is soooo tempting) but by evening, I felt good enough to go for a (short) bike ride. It's getting NICE outside. Whoo hoo!

And it's not even funny how much I don't want to be at work anymore. I'm sick to death of this gol tournament and all the weird, half explained forms Bosszilla wants, his sudden ideas about promo items, and his expectation that I can somehow psychically extract information about golf handicaps and phone numbers from the ether or the gold pro. Doesn't he understand that just like he doesn't want everyone on the planet to know his email and cell number, others aren't all that eager to pass the same information around?

So, anyway, feh.

I'm flying down to Miami this weekend. The Husband is attending a 4 day yoga seminar. Now, sitting in a hotel room for 4 days (like I did last time he had a seminar like this) is NOT my idea of fun, plus with two cats needing medication, it's expensive. But it's pretty cheap to fly down, as it happens. I'm hoping to visit with a friend, and I'll drive back with him (chances are I'll be driving, since he will be wiped out from the seminar.) At worst, I'll get some reading done -- sitting in a hotel room.

Monday, September 24, 2007

The Place I'm In

I am in de nada land. I woke up with a headache, which, while beaten back with Aleve, caffeine, an ice pack and chocolate, has only lessened, not abated. My cheekbones hurt.

I've seen the ads for the 'Cavemen' show twice now. Please stop trying to tempt me to watch network TV. I will put in a DVD if you don't stop it. Don't push me. (That link is the IMDB link. The link to ABC is fucking annoying).

I can't take a nap -- my head aches. I can't concentrate -- my head aches. I should get up and do some stuff, but my head aches when I walk around.

I think I'm just going to have a nice quiet pity party here in de nada land.

Friday, September 21, 2007

In The Closet

You might have heard that things were a little stormy in Eustis last night.

It was a long, rainy Thursday. Last night, as we were watching Tim Gunn, it really started to blow and the rain was loud. Then we lost satellite -- which is one of the joys of having satellite. Curious, I checked the weather via Internet since that was still up.

We had a tornado warning in our area. Mt. Plymouth, Mt. Dora, Eustis, Tavares -- they were tracking where the storm was expected to go, giving times and approximate areas. The Husband and I looked at each other, and then, by mutual agreement, we summoned/captured the cats and went to sit in our bedroom closet, as it is about the only space protected enough. The cats thought this was pretty weird. So did I, when I thought about it. I mean, really, aside from the strange intervals of loud wind and silence, there wasn't any sign of the tornado near us. Isn't this silly?

And then I thought about all the shows I'd watched about tornadoes, and I hugged a cat and waited until the warning was over. You never KNOW when the tornado is going to hit until it actually does hit. The warning lasted about 1/2 an hour, after which we were still too keyed up to sleep (it was after 11 pm).

This morning I saw that downtown Eustis, about 3-4 miles away from our house, had been whacked pretty well. So I didn't feel nearly as silly. We're fine, with just the usual clumps of leaves and stuff from a long rainstorm.

Sometimes it is a GOOD thing to stay in the closet.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Glue

That quote about sleep knitting up the raveled sleeve of care or whatever (I'll bet it's Shakespeare, but I'm too lazy to look it up right now) is all true. After a run of sleepless nights, I resorted to the knitting needles of vodka. Now, don't get worried. I'm a lightweight, so my 'nightcap' was a very large cup of milk, about 2 ounces of Dutch Chocolate Vodka, and a little Cask & Cream to smooth it out. Took me about an hour to sip it away, at which time I was quite prepared to become unconscious and drooly.

Last night I didn't need anything but a book.

Sometimes it takes what it takes, but I'm back to looking at the scenery from the top of my rollercoaster, appreciating the breeze and thew view, and fiddling with my seat belt.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Time to Fall Apart

I am falling a little bit apart. Not on the outside, really, but on the inside. So it The Husband. We both have trouble sleeping. We both tend to avoid doing things we know we have to do. We're a little grumpy with each other.

Stress is an amazing, powerful thing. I don't understand it well, especially how it affects me and how I react to it. There's a part of me that just wants a little pill to help me cope, and another that denies such an easy, temporary out. Still, there are breathing issues still, the feeling of choking, the tightness in my chest. All the thinking, meditating, calming and sublimating I can do isn't solving the problem. Putting it out of my mind -- zilch. Distraction -- temporary.

I just want to move. I just want to go forward. It's time. It's time. It is time.

UPDATE: I finally have a metaphor that works to explain what I'm feeling. I feel as if I am strapped into the car on a rollercoaster, and the car is poised at the very top of the first drop. It's just sitting there, and has been since, oh, let's say May. Everything between last September and May was the chunk-chunk-chunk of climbing to the top. Now I'm just there. I've looked at the view. I've considered what's about to happen. Now I'm just waiting, and the one thought in my head is...

"Let's just get the screaming started, ok? OK?"

Also, last visit to the MD, I asked about the Xanax. He said "I don't think so." That amazed me. They've practically pushed pills into my hands for years, for things I didn't even think I needed pills for, but this time? This time he said "I don't think so."

But it's ok. I have cookie dough.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Post Panic

They came -- a half hour early, throwing all our final preparations off (why oh why can't people grasp the idea of ON TIME?) We left, ran errands, and returned long after they were gone.

Now we know, though. The house must be near perfection at all times. No more panic. I hate panic.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Enter Panic Mode....NOW!

Someone is coming to see the house tomorrow.

SOMEONE IS COMING TO SEE THE HOUSE TOMORROW!

SOMEONE IS COMING TO SEE THE HOUSE TOMORROW!

What Happens When I am Ill

After such a lovely Tuesday, it only makes sense that I've developed a nasty sore throat/ear ache thing.

I'm on day 3. I've slept most of today, as it helps me ignore the stabbing in my neck. It might be serious, it might not be -- I get so many sore throats in a year that I usually just muddle through them.

Still, feh.

Ok, in other news, I made a major departure and watched Tim Gunn's Guide to Style onTV the last two nights. I was surprised. It's a fashion show with little to no meanness, minimal snarkiness, and a lot of very sunshiny positive stuff. It is much less confrontational than TLC's What Not To Wear (which I stopped watching last season). I pay a lot more attention to all these famous designers and so forth being just normal nice than I do to the 'how many clever insulting remarks can we make' sort. I don't want to slam Clinton and Stacy, because I've enjoyed them, too, and I learned a lot that has made me a better dresser and more confident about wearing clothes. But WNTW is as much about the awfulness and how many remarks can be made about the awfulness as it is about creating a positive experience.

So, if Tim Gunn keeps up this attitude and approach, as far as I am concerned, he wins.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Wrongity Wrong

Someone needs to take the socks away from Erin. It has officially gone too far (and I'm swiping that picture for possible blackmail/nightmare possibilities.)

Monday, September 10, 2007

I am reduced to helpless Squees

MySpaceTV: awww the otter by Mazinger


Painfully cute. Major amounts of cute. Do not view if you are diabetic.

SO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTEEEE!

Three Sheets

What is this thing about thread count in bed sheets? It seems like something of which I was blissfully unaware until about 1990.

My childhood memories of bed sheets are of my mother hanging them on the clothes line and running between them as the breeze bellied them out against me. I was particularly aware of the quality of sheets because I had a habit of rolling the folded edge of my pillow case between my fingers and rubbing it until I went to sleep. When I was very small, sheets were always smooth and soft. They smelled of fabric softener, Florida sunshine, and occasionally my mother's iron (she hated to iron, but did run one over the sheets).

Then, probably when I was 10 or so, my mother bought a set of sheets for my brand new double bed that were awful. I mean, they were very plastic-y feeling, rough and actually NOISY. I hated them and avoided making my bed with them. I suspect they were both inexpensive and made with some new synthetic. I'm a little sensitive to synthetic fabrics, especially those introduced in the 1970s.

It seems since then, I've had to pay attention to my bedsheets. Still, it wasn't hard to find soft, cotton smooth sheets, and I had several sets I loved well into my 20s.

Then I married, and I was sleeping in a queen sized bed. He, too, had those nice, smooth, cotton sheets, because none of my old bedsheets fit (of course). But years went by and sheets wear out (a lot faster than I remember them doing, but that's another thing). I had to replace sheets.

And that was when I had to learn about thread counts.

I am currently sitting on our bed, which is made up with new sheets we just bought. These sheets are supposedly 250 count, which means they should be smooth and soft. They certainly wrinkle up like 250 count. But they don't feel like them. They are perceptively rough without that nice polished surface. In the closet I have other sets of sheets, some at 300 count and higher. But, as we can't afford to spend $125 for a topsheet and $50 for a pillow case. So, Costco to the rescue, and $60 for a set of sheets. These sheets, for reasons still mysterious to us, bleach where The Husband sleeps on them. I'm serious. Most of the sheets are colored, and there are weird, blotchy, yellow-white places on my husband's pillow case and on the bottom sheet where he has slept. My side shows no such inclinations. Thus it goes for bargain sheets.

So, now that I am very aware of thread count -- yet another piece of relatively useless information thrust upon me, I am quite sure, by marketing agencies and much technological endeavor -- I must also pay attention to the blend, to where the cotton originates, and to how it was prepared. What used to be a regular, ordinary method of weaving, and a regular, ordinary standard of blended cotton used for weaving, has been analyzed and studied and experimented with until the cheapest methods and blends were determined. Thus, poor people can't have what used to be just ordinary bedsheets, and the wealthy can be tricked into thinking there really is something special about 1200 ct Egyptian Cotton sheets.

I just wish I'd managed to hold on to those old sheets of my mom's.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Changes

This is what my living room used to look like.


This is what our Labor Day Weekend work has done to it.


Bea likes the chairs.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Who else gets their weblog header made in Greece by an actual Dutchman? I'm so special!

(Thanks and a big hug, Rien!)

Critical Knowledge

Swiped from Lazygal


NerdTests.com says I'm an Uber Cool Nerd King.  What are you?  Click here!



Technically, since they ask for gender identification, and I said FEMALE, that should be Uber Cool Nerd QUEEN. And I should be at Dragon*Con.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

More of more of the same

Ok, so it is the first day of September. After a long morning of moving furniture, packing up breakables, and a few arguments, we've gotten read to start painting the living room. I get the rather empty victory of being right that we should have bought new paint trays while we were at Lowes this morning.

"The ones we have are fine!" said The Husband when I suggested it. So, I didn't grab them.

But when I said "You get the paint trays, I'll spread the dropcloths", he came back with "Oh, the dried paint on these is peeling. I don't want it to mix with the new paint..." Insert eye-rolling here.

He's on his way to Lowes again. This is the fifth thing in a row he's decided needed doing just as I said "Ok, let's get the paint." He doesn't want to paint. It was his insistence that we need to paint that started this (well, ok, I want to get rid of the salmon color) . We have three rooms to paint this weekend. Furniture must revolve, remove, rearrange. Our lovely faux fireplace and hearth -- gone. Again, The Husband went from "oh, leave it with the house" to "I don't see why we can't keep it."

I think this is all getting to him, too. I don't know that he would admit it, but I think he's feeling a little of the "oyster pried from the bed" sensation I've been feeling. I'm ready to go, I really am. It's this waiting thing. It's the having to remove the "me" from my house. This house is the first one that was actually MINE, and it was a hard, long struggle to make it so -- I'd lived here 10 years before I finally felt like it was my home. So, yes, I'm feeling some resentment over all these changes. This whole "leaving without leaving" thing is awful. It's staying in a relationship after you've broken up. It's having to go back to work at a job after you've already quit. It just won't be OVER.

I know one thing. Once I leave this house, I never want to see it again.

Monday, August 27, 2007

A Paradox, A Paradox, A Most Peculiar Paradox

The days are passing too quickly for getting anything useful done, yet slowly enough that I can see myself wasting time. Isn't that a paradox?

I'm trying to read, trying to write, trying to continue the de-homing of the house, trying to clean. Mostly I'm staring at things, or pretending not to stare. There's some day dreaming going on.

Pooty started his medication today. He liked it (hurray!) and then vomited it up shortly afterwards. We shall try it with some food this evening.

The weekend was spent catching up with friends and spending time eating. Eating was good. The Husband is doing all things mushroom.

It's too hot to move, too hot to think or breathe or even sleep. August is going too quickly, but it can't get over with soon enough. Isn't that a paradox?

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The Crest of the Wave

Look, I don't read Slate. I don't read Salon.com anymore. I don't read The Onion. I don't follow celebrity anythings. I occasionally count how many times a particular face shows on the tabloids as I'm checking out groceries. I just don't have the kind of energy to weave through those layers of hip-with-itness. I'm old and slow and my cynicism is well worn. So I'm always way behind whatever rising trend is going around. I have friends who do all that work for me.

And they point me to things like this from which I extract an ecstatic little quote:

Sure, it uses the death of thousands on 9/11 as a rationale for running a picture of a half-naked Angelina Jolie. But look, if we can't exploit 9/11 when we need to add a little gravitas to that silver sheet between Angelina's thighs, the terrorists win, right?

If this is one of the dizzy pinnacles of our culture, maybe so. At least I have some vague idea where the crest of the wav was.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Cat Thoughts



Pooty has hyperthyroidism. He seems to be in the early stages of it, so we are considering treatment options. Pills first, to see if that helps, then surgery second. The "gold standard" of radioactive iodine treatment isn't within our price range, no matter how much we love him. $1500 is sort of high. Hell, I'd be reluctant to spend that on me.

LaGuz is, thankfully, not hyperthyroid. Her tests came back with lower levels than last time.

Think good thoughts for my Prince of the House.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

I Won't Steal Thunder, But I'll Stand in the Rain

One of my favorite Good Reads people has a blog, and today he posted something that just made him even more a favorite person.

Likable Wilma

Especially for those of you who aren't sure how you feel about poetry...

Mid August Doldrums

Nothing much going on worth typing, but I'll go through the motions.

1) The new colors are picked and we will be engaged all of Labor Day weekend in laboring. Wee. Still, if it helps sell the house, it will be worth it. Will mean new photos.

2) Bought new books, read half of them.

3) Stress induced breathing problems annoy the shit out of me. Being stressed about it isn't helping. Stressed about being stressed...joy. I love my circular thinking.

4) Cats seem ok. Still waiting on results on Pooty and LaGuz.

5) Packing up more stuff. Again, wee.

6) Trying to write. Ideas are buzzing in my head like bees. Not much success with transferring bees to paper.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Attractive


Hokay, it's official. Having my books packed up is making me crazy. It's been over 2 months now, and it is not getting any better.

I don't know how many times in the last 4 weeks I've thought "Oh, I can look that up in this book" or "Wow, I want to read that section" or "Hey, I can quote this from the book" only to realize the book is IN A BOX and that box is stacked IN THE GARAGE and it would take a titanic effort to even dig around for it, much less locate the specific book.

The Husband has already stated he expects to live surrounded by bookcases where ever it is we move. He says he will build them if need be. I'm thinking a nice set around the headboard of the bed would be attractive.



Update: MIL and The Husband just took a lot of boxes from the garage to put in a storage unit. I know they took boxes of books (and left behind boxes of dishes) because they just went from the nearest end. Still, I got physically sick when I realized it. It's stupid, but true. I could just about vomit right now. I didn't think they would do that, but of course they would.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Matters of Taste

Ok, yesterday's stress is abating (after much chocolate and deep breathing). I have exorcised those stranger vibes from my house.

But before I let everything go completely, let me give you a taste of what happened.

All these people tromp through my house, looking in the closets and making comments. Before they leave, they write some comments on a sheet and leave them behind. The comments are supposed to be professional real estate salesperson advice on how best to present our house for sale. Most of it was just that.

Some of it was the farting of people with, I imagine, permanent digestive upset. One commanded us to get rid of our pets. Another insisted we rid ourselves of most furniture (75%, in fact, leaving us with the bed, a chair each, and possibly a dresser, I guess.) One person said "If they are moving, why haven't they packed anything?" (this person obviously didn't look into the garage). And one extremely helpful comment was "I can't imagine living like this, but I guess they're happy."

Professional, don't you think? I could tell our realtor thought so, too, when she handed the sheets to me after it was over. However, she's the one who has to deal with these people, not me. I'm taking a positive position. Those nasty comments were obviously the only ones those people could come up with -- meaning that they had nothing helpful to say. I feel some pity for whomever is so unlucky as to become their clients.

We are going to make some changes. We are repainting that color I'd already fallen out of love with (paint chips hang on the wall right now, waiting like beauty show contestants). We are going to repaint the guest bathroom and The Husband's office, both of which are admittedly extreme (and, I think, lovely and fun to have, but...) We are continuing to pack -- I've got boxes awaiting me. The garage and storage room get harsh treatment this weekend. As for the rest -- the cats stay. The furniture will be packed up when we get a contract on the house, biyotch.

And, after all that, I'm riding my NEW BICYCLE! Yes, yes, I have a lovely new bike that I've ridden three days this week already. It's burgundy and black, it's comfortable, and I'm working my way toward being able to ride it for more than 20 minutes....

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Strangers in my House

We just had a broker showing of our house.

I was writing about it when, mysteriously, Blogger made my post disappear.

I am not in the mood to write it again. I am in the mood to either throw up or get very inebriated. Actually, if I did the second, I might do the first.

Maybe I'd feel better.

More when I'm not quite so stressed.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Today was Sponsered by the word FREAK

Freakity freak freak freak!

I dunno, that's just the word I've got today. Perhaps because I've spoken to no one but cats since late last night.

Ok, Scott has, in his nefarious way, tagged me for a meme, and because I've thrown memes at him several times and because I sure as freak have nothing else worth saying, I'll do it. But I will eventually get him for it.

Eight Random Things About Me

1. I hate long toenails. Hate 'em. Long toenailed freaks! Thus, I have ingrown toenails ON PURPOSE.

2. I'm married to a long toenailed freak. When he clips them (with the big, industrial grade clippers) they SPROINK out and hit the cats. He earns points for how high the cats jump. If they hit me, though, he has to sleep on the couch.

3. I collect bookmarks, not because they have neat pictures or sayings on them, but because I stop in the middle of a book and start another book. I USE them. (I prefer Book Bungees).

4. As for as I am concerned, the Levenger Catalog is Reader Porn. Gimme. Then leave.

5. It's really sad how much I love those old Hanna-Barbara superhero cartoons from the 60's. No, I mean, it is REALLY sad. You don't know how sad, and I'm not going to tell you unless there's Reader Porn involved.

6. I have fallen out of love with one of the colors painted on my living room walls. I don't know that I ever really did love it. Maybe it was just a fling. I didn't know how to tell it the truth, but, man, it's over.

7. As a kid, I got through math class by imagining the numbers had personalities and relationships. 2 is the motherly type. 4 is her dashing son. 8 is in love with 4, but 4 really has a thing for 6, and 6 is so blonde she doesn't really get it and wants 10. 9 is just jealous. 7 has a mustache and a bad attitude, and is stringing 3 along.

8. I really do read dictionaries for entertainment. I can't help it. I wish I'd thought of marking the words I looked up in my first dictionary, but I didn't until I saw "...say anything" and I'll be damned if I copy off of Ione Skye.

There. Happy now? FREAK!

Monday, August 06, 2007

Popcorn and Mockery

Not a lot going on around here. House cleaning (wow, new "magic mits" for picking up cat hair on the couch!), more rounds of touching up paint, trying not to buy "replacement" things for stuff that is packed up somewhere and we miss (now we have the excuse of "hey, it makes the house look nicer so maybe it will sell better". You know, sale magic logic.) I'm battling with Ben over the Thou Shalt Not Be a Cat Sitting On the Dining Room Table -- I have a new squirt bottle. Did you know that the old fashioned pistol shaped trigger pump squirt gun is no more? Not even in bright clear purple plastic.

Husband and I went to the doctor for annual physicals while we still have insurance. *I* have a Urinary Tract Infection. Who knew? I sure didn't. Not a clue. My past history with these is that you tend to notice. I haven't actually had one in, oh, 18 years, so maybe I've forgotten. But I thought for sure I would notice something like that. Lots of water and a 3 day anti-whatever prescription.

Mostly I'm having fun on GoodReads. I've even read a few books! If I sent you an invite that you accepted, but you haven't added any books or gotten involved in the groups, you are MISSING OUT.

Oh, and the last bit of something. My 4 disc set of Space Ghost/Dino Boy/Birdman/The Galaxy Trio arrived. There will be much retro cartoon mocking around here. Bring your own popcorn.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Summary - first week of August

Lesseee

Typed an easy dozen+ letters for Bosszilla. Listened to him sing while he roamed the office. While his singing isn't awful and it means he's in a good mood, good moods never last.

The Blister broke last night of natural causes. Am now in the Bandaid-raw finger stage.

Must reclean the house. Won't stay clean.

FINISHED READING TWO BOOKS. You wanna know, you gotta go to to GoodReads.

Watched "I, Robot". Eh. Creepy attack robot sequences.

Made chili. Ate chili. Burped delicious chili burps.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Our Little Island

Bosszilla returns to Tokyo tomorrow, a fact greeted with the same joy and excitement as news of an impending oil embargo or a necessary extraction of multiple teeth. He called me to make sure I would be there (already planned) promising me more paperwork about his mother's estate. O joy, o rapture. July was such a pleasant month.

The Blistered Finger, soothed with ice cream, has subsided from feeling like a Fried Finger to feeling like I have a bandaid on it all the time. I don't actually have a bandaid on it, because the whole numb thing is a little much to handle as it is, and finger bandaids never work out for me. When that blister breaks -- and I know it will, blisters will do that and always before I'm ready -- I'll put a bandaid on it, because then it will be the Raw Finger and even air will hurt.

And one little tidbit for your consideration: there is unmatched pleasure to be had in tossing the minds of the unsuspecting about like so many fresh salad greens.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

I Miss My Mind The Most

I am typing this with only my right hand. Why, I hear you ask, would I be doing that?

Because I suffer from the delusion that it takes more that 60 seconds for a 40 watt bulb to get burning hot. Au contraire, mon frer! The second degree burn on my left middle finger contradicts this assumption!

5 minutes under running cool water and three icecubes later, I have one of the most shriveled blisters in the Western Hemisphere. Exposure to air for more than 10 seconds results in a severe sensation of fried finger. I'm not happy. I am also stupid. I had forgotten the lesson of the Easybake Oven, learned when I was a child (and that picture was the model I had!)

However, The Husband agrees that the best treatment available is a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Because Stupid is Expensive

Found three bleach spots on the couch from yesterday's misadventure. Small, but up front, so you can see them and wonder what they are. I'll just reverse the cushions so they don't show. That's why the covers go all the way around. At least they are just (very expensive) slipcovers, so one day they can be replaced without reupholstering.

Feh.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Where, oh where has my little mind gone?

Today was clean bathrooms day, part of the new Live Clean regimen of house selling. I'm doing more than merely removing the disgusting bits these days. Everything must shine and sparkle as if it had never known a human hand. The logic is I don't want anyone's attention distracted by a smudge or smear. I want them to think "Ah, beautiful, perfect, wonderful, here's my check!" I don't want this line of thought disturbed by "ugh, a hair!"

I'd finished our bathroom and had moved to the guest bathroom (which was a little more disgusting because I ignore it longer). All porcelain surfaces were cleaned with the fabulous Clorox Bathroom Cleaner. Smells like bleach, so you know the cooties are dead, right? At least I hope so, because after about 5 minutes I can't smell anything at all -- part of my defensive systems, I'm sure, or I'd be out of there, gagging and forcing the Husband to do it.

As part of my regular cleaning ritual, I decided to Fabreze the house. You know, the stuff you spray on fabrics to remove odors? With the goofy furniture sniffing commercials? So I sprayed freshener on the couch, the rug, the chairs, both offices, the dining room, the entry...all the while wondering why I didn't smell that nice Fabreze scent. Was my nose really that dead?

Noooo...

It was because I was spraying everything with Clorox Bathroom Cleaner. I'd never unclenched my fist from the bottle even as my brain happily leaped around the house spreading freshness and disaster.

So far, no bleach spots on the couch. At least everything is cootie-free now.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Because I Can't Believe It Either

Vosges Haut-Chocolat - Bacon Exotic Candy Bar - New

At first, all my "EEWWW, YUCK, ICK" reactions came out. Then I thought back to my first Vosges experience. I couldn't picture that working, either, but oh my, it DOES! It DOES!

I may have to try this, just to say I have.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Monday again

Just heard that the old house we were looking at has a contract on it. Oh, well. We've decided there's no more point in looking at housing in Clemson until we have this house sold.

I read a book.

I saw this picture on Accordion Guy, and last night I had a very strange dream involving Space Ghost (out of costume his name is Carl) and Jace. I wasn't personally involved. Sometimes I prefer my dreams to be movies I can just watch, even if they are strange. Especially if they are strange and involve superheroes and their sidekicks in off hours.

Today is Clean Floors day. I'm halfway done. The cleaner the floors try to be, the more I notice how many spots are on the carpet.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Oh! The Momentum!

I did a monumental thing this morning. With luck, this single change may also change my life.

What is this? I hear you ask. What have you done? Cut your hair? Adopted a handsome, virile 18 year old blond as your son and personal slave?

No, no, none of that (and I prefer brunettes as it happens). This is something important, something really essential to my state of being.

I've moved my laptop back to my office. My scarily tidy, somewhat empty, office is now once more occupied.

Ok, so that seems like a pretty small deal, but you who are mercifully ignorant about how the furniture in my mental attic is arranged don't understand how these little things create big storms. I've been wedded (welded?) to the bedroom. This isn't a good thing, as it is part of the old (tired, worn, threadbare) depression pattern. The TV holds sway, and not just any TV. Only the TV in the Bedroom.

My office is on the other side of the house. There's no TV in there. All I can do in my office is read, play with a cat, listen to the stereo, or sit in a semi-comfortable and much better for my spine office chair and type on the computer. It's not really comfortable for mindless wandering through the interwebinets. The window (where Ben is now parked) peers into the back yard where birds, lizards and the occasional squirrel roam. Its not, strangely enough, as isolated and separate as the bedroom. Mentally, it's just a very different place.

I'm trying for a change of atmosphere, a shift of environment, an attempt to do something other than schlumph around, a worthless schlog of foam on the beach of life. My twisted brain associates a lot with where I am and what is around me. So, being in the office with Ben talking to me about the sudden lack of suitable cat-lounging locations (amended) and the difficulty of draping himself on my desk, I feel different than I do when I'm sitting in the bedroom (even though it has been painted and cleaned into a suitably serene environment). So, I'm out of there and in here. I have a window and music and cats (Pooty just wandered in to pass judgment). It's time to do something. It's time to make changes; write my resume, finish a novel, polish a short story and research a market to submit it to. Anything is possible, once I get moving.

Of course, I could get a little TV to go in here.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Nothing But Complaints

Remember last year and that whole breathing problem thing whatsis I had? Well, it's back. We're calling it "Sherri's Stress Reaction" and I'm heartily sick of it.

Oh, and I'm having muscle spasms and cramps in my mid back. Whee! Woke me up twice last night.

The house needs dusting and vacuuming, I need to do laundry, and LaGuz is back to peeing everywhere but inside the litter box. There are still dozens of small tasks to do. The Husband is gone this weekend for more Yoga training, so he will not get any of his chores done and I won't see him (although, honestly, I think we've seen enough of each other for a few days. Long car trips will have that effect.)

I can't seem to settle down to doing anything. Concentration is for shit.

That's about all.