Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Now, to actually finish a book!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
But, the part that stayed with me all morning was a new word he used to describe China's government. I had to look it up when I got to work.
Hard and insular, often in sclerotic bureaucracy
My New Word.
For some reason, my archive months are in (I think) Spanish. At least, they are when I open the site.
And Bosszilla had me cancel his Netflix account. He's decided it's easier to carry a book on the airplane.
Update: I complain about it, and it goes away (the month thing, not the Bosszilla thing)
Sunday, May 27, 2007
I am constantly buying books from BP, and often I pick up something for her or she gets a massage from The Husband, and instead of shuffling money we work it out in trade. Our last set of exchanges had us highly confused because it went like this
Me: "Hey, will you take these books I don't want and try to sell them at your next show?"
BP: "I sold $10 worth and here are the rest."
Me: "Keep the $10 and the rest for your dollar box, and put it toward that $60 Hal Clement set you told me about."
BP: "Will you order me some of the tabloid sized bags when do that order? They're like, $20. I'll put it toward that book set."
Me: "Ok, so I want this book, too. Now I owe you, what, $30?"
BP: "I just got a massage , so that means I owe you how much?"
At which time we just call it a draw and start over. I should just deposit money with her monthly and let her send me books. It would be so much easier.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
You scored 14% grit, 28% wit, 47% flair, and 21% class!
You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.
Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the
Classic Leading Man Test. The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test
If only I had her ability to wear slacks...
I'm not susprised, really. He's sad, which makes him angry. Rar. But I really don't want to write eulogies.
We head off to OASIS tomorrow, for what may be the last time. The show has been going downhill steadily for a few years. We go because it's local, it's cheap, and we spend time with some friends while there. Ah, it's a weekend out of the house, although we won't be able to do dinner because we must be home to medicate cats. Wesa I'm not so worried about, but Ophelia needs to be kept on schedule as much as possible. I think we can manage one missed day, but I don't really want to do it to her if I don't have to (although I'm sure she would be happy to have one day without being poked with a needle.)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
This morning I learned that Bosszilla had a sudden death in his family.
We were supposed to have visitors at Tokyo this week, but one of the visitors has a spouse in the hospital in critical condition, so that was cancelled.
Last week, the wife of a friend at work went in for emergency surgery.
Today I learned that the SO of a friend has had a resurgence of the cancer they thought was in remission, and the doctors are predicting WEEKS -- not months, WEEKS -- left.
All in all, it makes me want to wrap The Husband up in cotton and keep him safe in the house.
On the positive side, I don't have to be at work for the rest of the week. I can sit home and fret in comfy clothes.
Monday, May 21, 2007
I still felt like I had vomited. Lucky for me I didn't. Vomiting is something I do shortly before I'm about to go to the emergency room and scare people by almost dying. I'd just as soon not.
The poor Husband had to stand there and take it all. After a few attempts to scream back at me, I simply outscreamed him. All that singing training, you know. I can really use my diaphragm to support my voice so it can be heard in the back row. I figure it's at least a portion of why my stomach felt so sick. It was, like, exercise.
It could also be a variation on my usual PMS symptoms, since I am now definately pre-menopausal and not really looking forward to the slow dissolution of my body into that of a "mature" female. The clues point in that direction -- giant zit on my chin and a show coming up this weekend. However, without descending into the gory details, the scheduling is otherwise off. So, I don't know.
Which is sort of like being 14 again. So far, this whole pre-menopausal thing has been like going through adolescence backwards, except I don't come out on the otherwise with dewy pure skin and 20/20 vision. I get all the mood swings, the sensations of not being at one with my physical self, the uncertainty, the painful cramping and the bad skin, that I had during those early adolescent years. On the positive side, I already have a good idea of what's happening, and I'm not mortified to buy feminine hygiene products at the grocery store anymore.
I just hope the Husband can survive it.
Friday, May 18, 2007
1. Handango.com has some very nifty applications and good customer service.
2. The $5 I spent on a program that lets me change the color light under the little pearl trackball was soooo worth it. Given my love for the extra special flashy pen, it was a given I would love a flashy pearl.
3. I can read blogs on my phone!
4. I have MAPS.
5. Another $30 investment let me replace my huge honkin' book-trackin' agenda/calendar/wallet/keepertrapper thingie that weighed about 4 pounds with a little phone based data manager. It's tres cool and easy and all sorts of things. OH, and I can work on my lists on my computer and mail them to my phone!
6. Did I mention the flashy pearl thing? Sooo Coool!
7. My phone digital camera is better than my digital digital camera (although I still take shit photos. Eh.) It also prevents me from taking a bad photo of my phone with my phone camera. Something to do with physics.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Alison Krauss & Union Station
Black Eyed Peas
Crosby, Stills, Nash (& Young)
Dave Matthews Brand
Nat King Cole
Simon & Garfunkel
All of these have or currently dominate my music listening. I think it explains some things, don't you?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Would YOU recognize me from that description? I wouldn't. They left out the bitchy, bossy, opinionated part.
Those are my favorite parts, too, as they are all about the chocolate.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
That's what it is, you know. Especially for Southern Women (I can't speak for other regions), there are RULES about being CLEAN. Cleanliness is next to goodliness or godliness or being Queen of the Sweet Corn Festival or something. If you don't keep your self, your house, your yard, your car, your desk, your kitchen (o LORDIE the kitchen) clean, then you are BAD. Bad in that way only Southern Grandmothers can declare you bad. Bad enough that you know you will never get the short checkout line at the grocery store and will always have to park in the sunniest spot on the hottest day, your pantihose will run when you look at them, your cakes will fall, your meatloaf separate, and your boyfriends/husbands will steal your money and sleep with your best friends -- forever. I'm talking bad, here.
Clean is not for one's self, now. Oh no, clean is for Other People. Who those other people are varies a lot, I'll admit, but the list usually includes Mothers, Mothers-in-Law, Grandmothers, Aunts, Wives of Male Best Friends (especially anyone you dated once), Wives of The Husband's Male Friends, Mothers of Your Children's Friends, Avon Ladies, and pretty much any other female you know who might possibly enter your house and want to use the bathroom. (For reasons I have not explored, Wives of Female Friends do not judge. Husbands of Male Friends are 50/50). Clean is for all those people so that when they are riding home after an evening or a weekend at your house, they do not turn to someone else in the car and say "Oh my GAWD, did you see the HAIR in the BATHROOM?"
Admit it, we are all a part of the judgeing committee. My husband and I are not particularily tidy, yet I recall him once, after spending a weekend with some friends while attending a class out of town, upon returning home saying, in a tone of deep disgust and amazement "And their bathroom garbage can was just overflowing! I mean with razors and tissues and everything!" Meanwhile, we pile things on top of our bathroom garbage can, silently daring the OTHER person to break down first and dump it. For us, it's a sport. For them -- pure sloth.
So we have this idea of Clean -- as it applies to ourselves, as it applies to other people, and as it applies to our house just before someone shows up. There is no good logic for why our standards are the way they are, but there they are, and they make us crazy.
And clean has specific definitions and parameters. The Husband and I have very different specifications on the whole issue, both from each other and from one moment in time to the next. For instance, I'm very adamant about the Dirt You Can't See -- it still counts. You can SMELL it. You can HEAR it. Just because you can't actually see it or because it takes a special attachment on the vacuum to reach it doesn't mean it shouldn't be cleaned. Toothpicks are designed for digging bits of crud from tight places, whether that's a popcorn kernal from your back molar or 6 years of brownie crumbs and frenchfry atoms from the little place where plastic meets plastic under the hand break. It includes the clump of dog hair from a dog dead 6 months now. It includes the mystery spot of yellow on the windshield that has to be scraped off with a fingernail.
I was pondering all this while the shop vac sat next to the car, desultorily slurping up bits of grass and stray wads of used paper towel from a foot away and glaring at me because I'd cursed it for refusing said dog hair. I was scrubbing the schmutz from the arm rest because this car will soon be in the hands of a dealership who will put it on a truck. That truck will drive to South Carolina or Alabama or Georgia where it will drop my car off at an auction yard. Some skinny redneck kid with bad skin and mullet pretensions will be assigned to clean my car in preparation for auction. He will sit on my seats with his rags and his chemicals, staring at the marks on my dash, and he will think "Wow, this car is dangum clean. I hardly hafta do nuthin'!"
I'm cleaning for that kid, dammit.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
|What type of person do you attract? |
Your Result: You attract geeks!
|You attract Yuppies!|
|You attract artsy people!|
|You attract unstable people!|
|You attract models!|
|You attract rednecks!|
|What type of person do you attract?|
Quizzes for MySpace
I can read email and play games, text and take photos, even listen to music on my new Blackberry Pearl. Pretty soon I hope to figure out how to make phone calls...
Monday, May 07, 2007
We've been discussing replacing my current car for about 2 years now. It's a 1999 Mazda Protege and has been very dependable. I call it "Bebe Kah" because I'm weird like that. But, after one front end collision (I wasn't even in the car; the culprit shall remained unnamed because he knows who he is) and 85,000+ miles, it's starting to have those little problems, like master break cylinders and transmission. I don't want to deal with that, not with a Big Life Change looming (the big If Bunny's end is in sight).
So, The Husband and MIL colluded on a new car. Basically, MIL is buying it outright. We just had to find the right car within the stated budget. So we started looking last year and settled on a Mazda3 Five Door. And Saturday, we decided to test drive one. We had a list of things we wanted in the car, a good idea of the price, a fair idea what to expect on trade in, and a firm grip that we weren't really going to buy just because it was there.
So, 2 test drives and 2 dealerships later, we put money down on Bebe Bloo.
It happened that way with the Protege. My old Chevy was just beginning to give warning signs of impending doom, so we drove out one bright Memorial Day to take a look at the sales. Four hours later, we'd grabbed a sweet deal on Bebe Kah (the name of my current Mazda) and were driving it home. Fast changes like that make me feel like my grip on reality isn't so tight (shut up, you in the back.) Somehow, I picture myself a gradual change sort of person, but really, my changes tend to come suddenly more often than not.
It's still a little unreal to me. I mean, how often do you go out to research a major purchase and the exact thing you want just happens to be there? I'm serious -- we walked in to the second dealer (the one we currently use for maintenance) to look at their stock and take a drive. We saw one on the lot when we walked up. It had just been delivered and was still wrapped in plastic. And it was My Car. We looked at the 4-5 others on the lot, but that was the one. After they install the stereo I want so giving up my JVC won't be so tragic, I drive it away next Saturday. It just feels odd and unreal.
Once upon a time, I would have been excited in anticipation, excited while it happened, and excited for days afterwards. Now, it took almost 2 days for me to actually click in that It Had Happened. I'm happy and pleased, but calm. No jumping, no squealing, no hugging strangers. Perhaps I'm cautious about it because there is still a waiting period -- it isn't mine yet, and something could happen, blah blah blah. I have become rather protective of myself over the years. I now avoid the emotional sweeps and falls that once marked my life, prefering to float smoothly through. Even the most exhilarating rapids lose their charms when you are on the water too long.
Anyway, I'm gonna have a new car. I shall celebrate by conning The Husband to go look at seat covers with me tonight. And, I must have a new Hangy Thing for my rear view mirror. That's an imperative.
Friday, May 04, 2007
After about 10 minutes, I heard another startling sound. Bosszilla was...singing. It was a ridiculous, silly little tune. Then I heard him joking with the receptionist. He was almost giddy. He was in a good mood for the rest of the morning.
I swear, he does the nuclear fire thing for the endorphin rush.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
So here's what I made.
I don't paint these. Oh, no, that masochistic, I ain't. I bought them from a friend who used to sell. I think she retired or decided to do something else -- we've sort of deliberately lost contact with her, as she was a bit on the high maintenance, "everything bad happens to me" side, and sometimes you couldn't say anything at all without triggering her self defense mechanisms. She was a good person, but -- exhausting. Anyway, I only have a few more of these little goodies, and so I'm making them into pendants.
This craptastic picture (in my own inimitable style) is, respectively, a piece of quartz faceted to have a pentagram, and a piece of mixed color amber. Of course you can't SEE the pentagram in the quarzt. I'll try to get a better picture later, but I ain't holdin' my breath.
And, last, some of the dichroic glass pendants I've made since Sunday. I love working with the dichroic -- less fragile than most precious or semi-precious stones, smooth, and reasonably regular in shape. I also love the colors.
I've got a few more pieces to do in silver, then I plan to make up some bracelets. I dislike working with silver wire. For scientific, metalurgical reasons that I knew once but discarded (aka, forgot) silver wire is contrary. It tends to curl, even in a square wire, and that makes it hard to untwist. You have to practically beat it into submission.
I used to love silver jewelry. Now I feel sorry for silversmiths.
Next, I go back to gold.
I'll put up more of my lovely blurry, overlit photos later.
Not that I have much to say. No, I am merely waiting for sleep to come. Tomorrow I shall post pictures of the marvelous things I've been making with rock and wire while waiting to see what would happen first -- my head exploding in a cloud of snot vapor, or my throat ripping itself out in a whiskey and Kathleen Turner extraveganza.
Either way, I need another box of Kleenex.
Oh, and The Husband is still burble-snorting, too, with the tail end of his personal portion of The Vegas Strain still sticking epoxy-like to his nasel cavities. Right now he's got a sort of staccato rhythm going. Ophelia is sleeping on his head.
Everyone needs a cat to slep on their heads, just like everyone needs a rock to wind a piece of string around.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
I went to work 1/2 hour early because Son of Bosszilla (sometimes called Bosszookie) informed The Husband that the working hours he's been on for the last 10 years are No Longer Acceptable. Without going into tedious detail, different areas of Tokyo work slightly differing main shifts, either from 7:30-4:30 or 8-5. We also have a later shift that starts around 1 and runs until around 10 or 11, depending.
The Husband's department is on the 7:30 to 4, while he's been 8-5 so that someone would overlap the second shift. Bosszookie was seized with a sudden suspicion that the department was having wild parties during that early 1/2 hour and no one was inviting him. So, the Husband must be there to make sure the peons are peoning from the moment they step foot in the door until they leave. Second shift can just go it alone, like they used to before it became desperately apparent they couldn't and they moved the Husband's hours so he'd overlap.
You know how it is in Tokyo. It's not really an issue for me unless the doors to the front office aren't unlocked when I get there, in which case I will sit in The Husband's department and play computer solitare until someone shows up at 8.
Speaking of Toyko, I now have, not one, but TWO completely useless projects to work my ass off doing so that after they are done they can be completley ignored or, even better, complained about. Ah, la, it's all for the money. We are wanting much money so we can stock it away in preparation for departure to...where ever it is we end up departing to. Useless projects are very good for the earning of the moneys. They are just hard on the building of the ego. But who needs one of those? Self esteem? Personal worth? Fah!
They are for the weak.