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TV

So I started this TV season the same way I do every season: noting when shows that sound cool, and shows I already watch, start. The past two years I've had the DVR and can set it up to tape the new shows--woohoo!--and watch later. This year there were quite a few.

Ringer: Okay, taped three episodes, never got the motivation to watch them, deleted them and the timer. I dunno, it sounded okay, I like Sarah Michelle Gellar, but ... meh. If I hear good things, I'll watch the DVDs.

Person of Interest: Just watched episode 1 Saturday night, the episode 2 on Sunday. I'm mostly interested in Michael Emerson's character, though Jim Caviezal is some serious eye candy and the thing with the dump truck was awesome. He's like a mix of Clint Eastwood doing Dirty Harry and Henry Winkler being Henry Winkler.

Anyway, episode 2 started delving into the backstory for Finch (Emerson's character), and if they keep doing things like that ... well, we may keep watching. Neither Scott nor I are very into procedurals (unless we get sucked into the crystal meth that is a Law & Order marathon ... shudder), so it better get weird and twisty pretty quick. (I also think it would be awesome if the person Finch lost was the partner guy we saw in episode 2, and if that guy was, in fact, his partner ... but I doubt they'll go there.)

Glee: Well, much like last season, I am being horribly sporadic. Ignored the premiere, watched the musical numbers for ep 2, and watched all of ep 3. Holy cats, Mercedes as Effie. That whole sequence was freaking spectacular. And go, Mike. Though I didn't think "Cool" popped quite enough, it was still good.

And good grief, Will Schuster is one of the worst teachers ever. Also, was I the only one who wanted to tell him it wasn't his damn place to fix Emma?

American Horror Story and Bedlam: Okay, only watched the pilots for these so far. AHS isn't working for either of us. I think it probably will work for people with a different kind of horror story taste, though. Bedlam is probably more to my taste, but it wasn't really scary at all. I'll watch it again, though.

Scott and I are both getting into Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares and, of all things, Top Gear. Well, maybe I shouldn't be surprised at that--I got mildly addicted to "Car Talk" on NPR and managed to mildly addict Scott, so there is a precedent here.

Scott's still giving Terra Nova a shot, but I'm pretty well done with it.

Books

Reading Ready Player One. Having massive flashbacks to my adolescence. Also irritating my husband because I checked it out of the library and he wants to read it, so he was hoping I'd buy it with my credit card points ... except he didn't tell me that, so I bought Z and myself some books instead. The guilt tripping has commenced.

Podcasts

That's right, podcasts. I am dipping my toe in. I am entering the first decade of the 21st century just in time for the 2nd. Go me.

I like NPR, but I rarely tune in at the right times to hear the stuff I want. And sometimes I just want something besides music--like when I'm washing dishes or coming home from work. (I have a tendency to run my day back over and over, which makes it harder to wind down, and I can tune music out too easily. I'm hoping Kevin Smith being vulgar and hilarious will keep me from doing that.)

So I got a Kevin Smith podcast, some stuff off NPR, and a couple of HowStuffWorks podcasts about little-known history. We shall see.

Miscellany

Reddit is swallowing my husband's soul. The boy has started Nintendogs. The Amanda Palmer cover of "Polly" is awesome. Strange Horizons made their funding goal (yay!).

I think that's it for now. Do I read, or watch more TV?

stuff

May. 1st, 2011 10:20 am
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Had a nice day with the parents yesterday. I showed Dad how to do some stuff on the iBook, and Scott attempted to troubleshoot my mother's slow-ass computer. The Zweeble ran around like a nut until we took him to the park.

The park we went to is across a little foot-bridge from my old elementary school. When I was a kid, the P.E. teachers would bring us over there to use the baseball field, and there used to be a big open space (now it has shuffleboard courts) where we'd play Red Rover and such. The equipment at the playground is all "new" (as in, not the stuff I remember using--and good on that, as I was playing there about 33 years ago--but not really new stuff, either) and rearranged, but as I told my mother, the weird thing about my hometown isn't the stuff that's changed--it's all the stuff that hasn't changed. The elementary school looks basically the same. The foot-bridge is still there. The baseball field and the stands are still there.

They are, however, rebuilding my high school. The new gym looks enormous. The building that I can only assume is the cafeteria is also gigantic. Soon the school will not be dwarfed by the auditorium. It's a little weird, but that school was not only my high school, nigh 20 years ago, it was my mother's junior high school, nigh another 20 years ago. It's probably due for an upgrade.

Then we went back to the parents' and had dinner, and played with the Zweeble, who found my mother's yoga mat and proceeded to spread it out and do "yoga poses." The idea of holding a pose does not occur to my child; most of his yoga poses involve jumping and spinning. Like most 4-year-olds, he is insanely flexible, and my mother, Scott, and I pretty much proved we're not 4 anymore. :)

Z. has been very clingy lately, probably because I've been out of the house a lot this week for work, so I spent most of the day hanging out with him. I didn't expect him to stay the night with his grandparents, but he decided to without any fanfare. So Scott and I came home without him. I played with Vignette, texted people randomly, and we got the makings for some sort of hot pepper and bacon infused vodka that has to steep for a week before Scott can make Bloody Marys with it.

And then, between Doctor Who and streaming Veronica Mars, I gorged on TV until 2:30am.

Today I need to empty the dishwasher, do some laundry, and do some work. And shower. I might shower first. Scott is watching a French zombie movie. Ah, Netflix, you evil creation ...
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My iBook is about to be retired.

It's been glitchy and slow for a while now. None of the newer web browsers work on it. It's been driving me crazy, and my family--crazy, lovely people that they are--chipped in to give me the cash to buy a new laptop.

So I did. The thing is, while I am happy about the new Macbook, I am not as excited as I think I ought to be. Part of this is because I won't have time to really play with it and get things moved onto it until this weekend, but a lot of it is also that ... well, I love my iBook.

It was our first Mac, the Kool-Aide, if you will. It was the first piece of tech that I owned and got super-excited about. Yes, we got an iPod back when they were like small bricks and had buttons along the top (Scott still uses that one, actually), and I thought it was really neat ... but the iBook was mine. And unlike my previous laptop, it worked the way it was supposed to. For the most part, aside from the issues of old age, it still does.

I love the keyboard and the way it feels. I love the size--I am, actually, not thrilled at the extra inch on the Macbook--and the squareness of it. I will be happy to be rid of the LCD and the letters that can rub off the keys, and with the Zweeble running around the magnetic power cord will ease my mind a lot, but ... I love this computer.

I have written a lot of stuff on it. Read a lot on it. I surfed the web on it with my tiny Zweeble lying on the couch next to me, two days after he came home from the hospital.

My dad is taking it, once I unload all my stuff from it. This is a nice, gentle retirement; my father wants to write some stuff, maybe load pictures on it. He's kind of excited about it. So I'm sending it to a good home, my little iBook, but still. I will miss it. It's been a really good little laptop.

All right. Enough misty sentimentality over a piece of equipment. Onto the meme!

Day 11 - Put your iPod on shuffle and write 10 songs that pop up

All right, here's the thing: I share this iPod with Scott and the Zweeble. It's the family iPod. I have a Nano that I planned to use as my personal iPod, only my music on it, but in the end it was just easier to make a playlist on the family iPod. Or, well, ten. :) (Really, while I'm giving my father the iBook, I ought to see if my mother wants the Nano.)

So this is not entirely indicative of my tastes. And as it is late, I'm just looking at titles and not listening to the songs. But here we go, anyway:

1. "Every Day Is Exactly the Same" - Nine Inch Nails, With Teeth

I love NIN. This isn't my favorite song, but it's not bad. And I am psyched that Trent Reznor won an Oscar.

2. "Clint Eastwood" - Gorillaz, Gorillaz

"Rhythm, you have it or you don't, that's a fallacy, I'm in them ..."

This is a great song. I have it on one of my "cheer Laura up" playlists because it makes me smile when I hear it.

"I'm useless, but not for long, the future is coming on ..."

3. "Spider In My Room" - Barenaked Ladies, Born on a Pirate Ship

Hm. I know I know this song, but when I try to remember it all I do is sing "Boris the Spider," which ain't it. I like quite a bit off this album, but apparently this song didn't stick in my mind. I'll have to listen to it tomorrow when I take the boy to school.

4. "Hey You" - No Doubt, Tragic Kingdom

Scott bought this album. I liked one or two songs off it; I like Return of Saturn better, overall, and Rock Steady is actually my favorite No Doubt album. I haven't really been into Gwen Stefani's solo career, but I remember seeing No Doubt on SNL ages ago and really digging this girl with hennaed hands fronting a band.

5. "The Abduction of Margaret" - The Decemberists, The Hazards of Love

I love this album. I love the ambition of it, and the depth and the sound of it. This is a song you really need in context; unlike "The Rake's Song" or some of the other ones, it doesn't stand alone well.

I remember sitting in dead-stopped traffic, the Zweeble asleep in the back seat, listening to this album.

6. "Flathead" - the Fratellis, Costello Music

No idea. Scott must have bought this. Something else to play tomorrow morning.

7. "Just You Wait" - Julie Andrews, My Fair Lady

One of the great spiteful, I-hate-you songs of musical theater. And Julie Andrews rocks. I like Audrey Hepburn, but dudes. Plus, apparently Audrey Hepburn sang but was still dubbed? I dunno, Hollywood has always been weird, I suppose.

8. "My Friends Tigger & Pooh Theme" - Playhouse Disney Musical Block Party

Totally the Zweeble. That Darby kid is a blasphemy. And why, exactly, did Tigger and Pooh need to be detectives? Not that they were particularly good detectives ... I will say, however, that the episode where Piglet and Tigger switched bodies was pretty hilarious. Teeny Piglet bouncing around like a not was kinda fun.

9. "In a Big Country" - Big Country, The Best of Big Country

Much like "Solisbury Hill," this is a song that makes me feel like I'm in the opening montage of a movie whenever it plays.

10. "'97 Bonnie & Clyde" - Tori Amos, Strange Little Girls

I have heard the original, and let me tell you, Tori Amos creeps me out way, way more than Eminem. Then again, was he trying to be creepy? I don't know. All I know is, this song makes my skin crawl.

All righty. That's it for now. Bedtime. I was so exhausted today, and wound up napping, and I can only hope I haven't screwed up any possibility for sleeping tonight.





This awaits you, with long pointy teeth! )
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Day 10 - Discuss your first love and first kiss

My first love was Meeno Peluce. It was fourth grade, I thought Voyagers! was the greatest TV show of all time, and ...

... wait, do they mean, like, real-life kind of first love?

Oh. Well. Um ... well, 15 year old me would be really pissed, but I seriously think Scott counts for this, as he's really the love of my life, sunshine of my existence and so on. But I think what the meme is really looking for is the first serious boyfriend/girlfriend, and that would be sophomore year (I had a boyfriend for a few weeks in 8th grade, and he was a really nice guy, but it wasn't the same sort of thing).

I think, for a first serious boyfriend, that relationship wasn't bad. We were young and I think we were both more into the romance of being a couple, but who isn't at 15? We were grossly affectionate, broke up, got back together, then broke up for good the summer before senior year. The end was a bit messy--then again, what else was it going to be in high school?--and we were really snotty to each other afterward. I ruptured my spleen while we were together, which probably put a lot more ... I dunno, emotional baggage onto the whole thing than it needed, but aside from that I'd say it was a normal enough first love.

He was also my first kiss. It was in my room. I had this addition to my room that was pretty much all windows, and we were sitting on the floor of that, all the blinds open, the sun streaming in, and he said he wanted to kiss me. We hadn't been together for very long, and I said okay--neither of us had ever kissed anyone before--and we kissed. And ... it was kind of awkward, and chaste, and I thought that's it? and kissed him again, and that time it was a lot less chaste and a lot less awkward.

That was 22 years ago, and the memory of kissing my boyfriend on the floor of my bedroom in the sunshine still makes me smile.

more! more! )

more facts

Mar. 7th, 2011 12:27 am
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Okay, seriously, I'm ready for life to be a lot less scary and people to be a lot less annoying.

So, here's some more of the 30 interesting facts about me. Seeing my good friend Robyn (someone who is not annoying) yesterday, and remembering our travels in the UK helped me come up with some more:

12. I can fix a pair of glasses with a ballpoint pen cap. I discovered this when my glasses fell apart on a trip to ... oh, lord, somewhere in England, and I didn't have a glasses kit with me. Periodically the screw would pop on my frames and I'd have to re-tighten it, and Robyn had the pen with the cap that worked.

13. I jumped into the lake at Leeds Castle to save a roll of film. (Indeed, I do pre-date digital cameras!) It fell out of the handy-dandy elastic strap and I heard it plip into the water. I remember standing there for just a minute, aghast, then shucking my trench coat and backpack in one motion before climbing over the side into the water. Well, onto the rocks lining the side. I managed to creep out on some more rocks and reach the bobbing plastic canister before it floated far enough to force me to wade. And the film was dry when I opened the canister!

14. I have kissed the Blarney Stone, but that doesn't mean #12 and #13 aren't true.

15. I went to Northern Ireland and got to go inside an Army base because it was built around the remains of the ancestral castle of the girl I was traveling with.

16. I can fit the following things into an L.L. Bean school backpack: a week's worth of underwear and socks, a sweater or a flannel shirt (also L.L. Bean), three t-shirts, a Minolta SLR camera and lens, film (doesn't take much space), pens, a small day planner, a map, money and passport, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner in small bottles, soap, a composition notebook that was my journal, my teddy bear, and a paperback copy of the Alexander complete works of Shakespeare (in very, very small print).

17. I was going to take my bear, anyway, but he was handy in another way: my mother was very upset that I did not come back from my high school Europe trip with pictures of myself in any of these famous spots I visited (to be fair, my only group shot was one of everyone's backs as they watched the Changing of the Guard, so clearly I wasn't interested in people on that trip). So when I spent the semester abroad, I made sure to get a photo of myself wherever I went (Robyn got good with my camera). However, I didn't trust strangers with my camera, so when I went somewhere alone, I took a picture of my teddy bear instead.

18. I am very excited that my friends John and Tiffany are finally getting married, but right this second, I am more excited because when I go to Michigan to take part in their wedding, I will not have to haul all the extra crap I had to haul to Ohio. I am scheming to make it so that Scott and I have one backpack as a carry-on between us.

19. Speaking of plane rides, I can also change a small child's clothing from the skin out in an airplane seat while waiting to disembark the plane.

20. Okay, this one is because of 's answers to this part of the meme: I can't stand Thin Mints. This is because when my mother was a Girl Scout leader, she stocked up on them--all three of us were nuts for them--and froze them. Well, I pretty much gorged on Thin Mints for a month, and made myself thoroughly sick of them. Trefoils, now, are my downfall. And Lemonades.


And that's all I have for now. I will endeavor to think of some more stuff and finish this question soon.
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I have not had many solo Thanksgivings ...

The first one was my sophomore year of college. I was going to spend the spring semester in England, and then the summer in Florida, so Scott and I decided to skip the family Thanksgiving (I wasn't going to go home, but otherwise we'd have gone to his family's) and have Turkey Day at his apartment. Of course, that meant his roommate was also having Thanksgiving dinner with us, but whatever.

That was the year Scott didn't get the bag of giblets out of the turkey, so when Curtis sliced the bird, this white plastic bag was revealed, containing perfectly steamed ... well, things. Which Scott wanted to eat, but we wouldn't allow. He's still bitter. ("Yes, I am," he says.)

That was also the year where I made hockey-puck buscuits. Note to self: buscuits don't rise that much. Roll the dough out thick.

There were at least two solo Thanksgivings in Louisiana.* The first one was the time we cooked a regular, meant-for-ten-or-fifteen-people turkey for the two of us because, well, we didn't know any better. A 19-pound turkey is what you buy, right? So we did.

We threw the last of the leftovers away the following March. (It was grad school. He worked overnights. We were lazy. And poor.)

I also remember going to the video store that night, and being suprised that it was open.

And the other Thanksgiving, Scott cooked a duck. Because, 1. We didn't care about tradition, and 2. It was a hell of a lot smaller than a turkey. I recall it tasting fine but being really greasy.

This year we added the boy, and had Scott's new assistant and her little boy, but we did the meal ourselves (though my mom did a good chunk of the prep work and sent her portion of the supplies to us) and it was nice, overall. I missed my family, both blood-and-not related. I was sad that [livejournal.com profile] doggiesushi wasn't here to try Scott's mushroom pie, because he's the person who'd probably enjoy it. But I liked the quiet of the house before the meal, and I liked watching Scott work his kitchen mojo without anyone else there to hinder or help.

I love watching Scott cook. It's his thing. Food equals love. If Scott is willing to cook for you, if he offers and makes you something you like, if he piles on the pancakes when you come over, well, you're someone he cares about. I found a stuffing recipe I thought sounded good, and probably the nicest moment for me was when he made it and said it was also the sort of stuffing he'd wanted to try making for a long time. And as much as I adore my grandmother and my mother, when all three of them are bustling around the kitchen, I don't get much chance to just go in and watch Scott cooking.

So cooking=love for Scott, and today cleaning the kitchen=love for me, because I wanted him to have a clean, cleared space to work in, so every so often I went in and cleaned up, washed dishes, tossed peels and stuff. The man can cook in a three-inch block of counter space with one burner on the stove, but come on. The stove was on from 5:30am until about 2:00pm, and the dishwasher had gone through three loads today. :)

The highlight this year was both of us working in the kitchen together last night, just talking and having a meandering conversation. And then the pie crust dough--watching Scott roll it out and then attempting to peel it up ... and it came up in gooey clumps. Baking is not his thing. On the other hand, I made pecan caramel bars with a pseudo-shortbread crust, and that worked out quite well. It's not perfect--I don't have the shortbread crust figured out yet--but it's good. I always find it a thrill when I make something for the first time and it comes together, and you can tell it's going to work.

So, yeah, that was Thanksgiving this year. Oh, well, and the two boys running around the house, one 3 and one nearly 2, and ... well, it was fine, but whenever I have more than one kid in my house at a time, my conviction that one child is more than enough for me is re-cemented. Whew.


*We spent one of those Thanksgivings in Ohio; the last time we were up we found a bunch of pictures from that trip and the ones from when we were in college, and in every bunch there was a shot of me with a notebook, library book, or textbook, sitting and doing work. And it hasn't changed.
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I just found out that yesterday was the 35th anniversary of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I knew Scott before we went to Rocky Horror, but we were aquaintences. And when my friend and I wanted to go to Rocky Horror, like, for real (as opposed to the half-assed way I'd done it before, with about ten friends and a whole two other people in the theater) ... well, Scott's friend had a thing for either me or my friend, and Scott had a car.

So I ended up in a car with this dude from my writing class and his friend I barely knew, driving to St. Louis ("Missouri?" everyone asked after we got back. Yes, Missouri. I saw the arch the next day.) to see Rocky Horror.

I remember a lot about that night: driving in Bob the Reagle Beagle; playing those stupid "yes/no" question games ("If he had seen the sawdust, it never would have happened"); running around a playground after dark; sitting on the grass with Scott, who I was liking more and more as the night wore on, as he traced the back of my hand with a finger.

Most of my memories of the movie are much like that--focused on Scott. We weren't allowed to bring anything messy in, so no water guns or rice. Though we couldn't find rice, so we'd brought rice cakes and tossed those like frisbees. The theater was full, and when "Time Warp" came on everyone rushed the aisles to dance. Scott was behind me with his hands on my hips, and while that's pretty compromising, I was really glad someone I knew was there, kind of keeping my short-ass self in my very flat fu shoes from being overwhelmed by the platform-shoed crowd.

And Scott and I had elbow sex on the first night we met. A lot. It was like elbow sex porn. Which I am sure is out there, in a totally different sense than I'm talking about here.

They started showing Rocky Horror at school on Halloween, so I have other hilarious memories of it. But that's the important one; I met my husband and started falling for him when we went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

(Now it's 19 years later, and we watch Phineas and Ferb with the Zweeble, and Riff Raff does the voice of the kids' father, and Brad does the voice for one of their grandfathers.*)



*The other grandfather is Alex from A Clockwork Orange, so all of my edgy, cool stuff from high school and college is being co-opted by my kid and his demographic.
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The other night, I caught the last half of a documentary about Phantom of the Opera, so I DVRed it and watched the whole thing yesterday.

First off, it was really interesting to see how it evolved and was put together, and I really enjoyed the footage from the rehearsals with Sarah Brightman and Michael Crawford. And the stories about the remote-controlled gondola and how on one occasion Michael Crawford had to pull this two-ton boat onto its spot after they got off it, and then had to sing "Music of the Night" was pretty hilarious.

Anyway, I realized as I watched it that I haven;t listened to that soundtrack in probably fifteen years. I did see the movie version, but those weren't the same actors. (I remember seeing the movie and being highly amused at the fact that I knew all the lyrics, still.) I have the CDs, but I don't have the soundtrack on the iPod. So I dug around and found them at the bottom of the CD Qbit, and today when I went to Target for taco chips I played it.

Now, I was obsessed with this musical in high school. Junior and senior year, which was also when it was out originally on Broadway. I had the soundtrack on tape, and wore it out, read the original book (dear god), had a porcelain Phantom mask on the wall, had the big glossy book (I still have it, actually, and there's something else I haven't actually looked at in fifteen or twenty years), and on my senior trip to France, I and my similarly-obsessed best girlfriend ditched our lazy-ass, not-obsessed group of friends and went to the Paris Opera house.

I have never seen the show on stage, but this was an enormous part of my psyche when I was 17/18 years old. I wanted to be Christine, obviously--the supremely talented girl that everyone underestimates until the dark genius recognizes her and gives her the right music to sing, and then the hot, rich guy falls for her, too, and ... yeah.*

So today I put the CDs in, and listen, and have these thoughts:

1. Holy crap, I really still do remember every damned thing on this soundtrack. Dialogue, inflections, lyrics, all of it.

2. Sir Andrew, step away from the synthesizer. Seriously. I know, I know, the Phantom plays an organ. Whatever. Find another instrument. We're suspending our disbelief in many areas, we can get around the lack of an organ.

3. Oh my god, Christine, could you be any more of a girl? I seriously want to rewrite this musical so that Christine is poor, talented, and determined to be an opera star--and instead of this whole thing where he's been teaching her to sing and after her debut he takes her down to the basement lake, he actually takes her down there before all of this and tells her he wants to train her. She's skeptical, and demands he take the mask off before she agrees to anything, then yanks it off when he refuses. He freaks, but she just looks him over, says she understands why he needs her to sing his music now, hands him back the mask and agrees. Then they're partners, and she sort of likes Raul--but when he starts getting clingy and wanting to protect her from the Phantom, she gets all "where the hell were you before I was a giant success?"

And I can't decide if I want to have a clingy, insecure Phantom, and then have Christine ditch both the guys at the end of the show, or if I want them to have a kind of Henry Higgins/Eliza Doolittle thing going on, and once he's found out they leave Paris and go off to Venice or somewhere and start over.



*And this is why I'm not that worried about the girls who like Twilight.
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We took the Zweeble to see The Princess and the Frog today. Scott liked it a lot. I probably would have enjoyed it more had we not, due to my mis-reading Fandango, gotten there an hour and ten minutes early. Let me tell you, for the last five or so minutes before the movie actually started, my BlackBerry totally paid for itself--thank you, god, for YouTube and a smart phone. And for the Doctor Who BBC ad thingie I posted a few days ago.

Anyway, it felt like we were in the movie theater for freaking ever, and it was not the fault of the movie at all. But I did like it, especially Ray the Cajun firefly (I got all teary at the end), and the things I recognized from when we lived in Louisiana. Like Ray the Cajun firefly. The guy doing that voice did a respectable Cajun accent, from what I recall.

The Zweeble ... I don't know. He was tired and restless at the end, so it will probably be a day or so before I find out if he liked it.

Then I went out shopping. I've been needing some new t-shirts and undergarments. Stuff has just been wearing out left and right the past couple of months (as opposed to my just getting sick of it, which is what usually happens), and, in an unusual turn of events, I have plenty of work clothes and jeans, but very few casual shirts. So I found two new t-shirts, got a new tank top, got some underwear, and in a totally amazing stroke of luck, actually found two decent bras without any pain or bloodshed on my part.

I could still use a couple more shirts, I think, but things are not quite so dire as they were. One of my new shirts is a purple Queen baseball t-shirt, which makes me happy. Z. got a Queen t-shirt for Xmas, so he and I can kinda match at music class. :)

I also got a book, and got the Zweeble two books and a stuffed Wild Thing. He really didn't get as many books as I was hoping he would for Christmas, so I figured I'd make up for the lack. :)

He's been a really good kid the past few days. Actually, he's a pretty good kid overall, I think, but he's not getting into quite as much mischief as he has been the past couple of weeks or so. And he hasn't been obsessed with the TV as much. I have a theory--I believe that he's got a ton of more age-appropriate toys, now, and so he isn't as bored as he, apparently, was before. This is a good thing. I foresee a future of trying to keep ahead of him ... yeesh. He can't learn to read fast enough.

Of course, next weekend I need to purge all the baby toys from his room to make room for the new stuff. And while he doesn't play with it, he knows it belongs to him ...
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So I was reading my Friends List, and read in [livejournal.com profile] dealio's recent post:

I have to make an emergency disk for one of our stations -- an emergency disk is an actual cd of songs and imaging that can be played if the main audio program goes kerflewie -- and a song that came out in high school, the only song that I tried to make an "our song" to cement a relationship came up on the play list. I haven't heard it in ages, my god this is a crap song. No, I'm not going to name the song, I'm *really* not.

So of course I immediately called him and asked him what the song was. He refused to tell me until I offered him a bribe, and I swore I'd never tell the name of the song. (Which I won't. I want to, but I won't.)

He said, really fast and kind of mumbled, "It was [Really Cheesy 80s song That Laura Actually Still Kind of Likes] by [But She Digs Cheesy Songs, So That Doesn't Say Much]."

"Oh my god, that was me! You did that on a mix tape for me in college!"**

"Uh ... no, I did that in high school, and I guess I did it for you in college."***

I was, at this point, laughing like a loon. "I was a repeat! You cad!"****

(Now I'm wondering what of his other college moves were originally used in high school.)



**he was so cool, all, "Just listen to the lyrics."

***he really probably doesn't remember. I have the mix tape around somewhere, so I can prove it to him.

****Okay, I don't think I said "cad." I was laughing a lot, so I'm not sure I remember exactly what I said after the repeat thing. But close enough.



Oh, and let me take this opportunity to inform the world that on the same mix tape as The Unnamed Song of Shame, Scott included a Sinead O'Connor song and wrote on the liner notes that I was not allowed to tell anyone he had a Sinead O'Connor tape. BUT HE DID.
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So on our vacation, Kyle (Goofball #1) asked Scott about a Magic card he needed or wanted.

Back in the day, Kyle and Aaron and their gang of friends--all of whom were barely teenagers at the time--got Scott into Magic. He then addicted me, Jason, Erin, our friend Amy, possibly John (John at least got a contact high of sorts) ... and I think all of us made our decks out of the cards Scott bought. We eventually stopped playing, and when we cleaned the garage after the baby was born, we found a purple plastic bin of Magic cards that weighed more than the baby did. Probably still does.

Anyway, Kyle still plays, and he asked about a card, so Scott started sorting through the big purple box. He found four of the card Kyle wanted, sent him two, and then started pricing cards. And then he sorted out the ones that were worth something, and when he went back to Ohio last week he traded some of them at the local comics store for $128 worth of bags and boards and two longboxes (which we needed desperately). But that is not the point.

No, the point is that my husband is currently sitting at the kitchen table sorting cards and re-creating his (hang onto your hat, Jason) goddamned annoying goblin deck, the really goddamned annoying assassins deck, and putting together some kind of wizards/dragons/knights blue and white deck that will probably annoy the hell out of me, too.

In self-defense--and as proof of my love, because like I need more distraction in my life--I am putting my Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God deck back together--angels, clerics, and a bunch of cards that call down righteous wrath on the heads of any and all unbelievers.

Some people play pinochle. Not us, baby.
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Today I was in Kettering, Ohio, on my way to the comic book store, in a crappy little car, with "Birdhouse In Your Soul" on the radio.
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So in an ongoing effort to watch less TV (this is an ongoing effort and only middlingly successful), this morning I turned on the radio in the kitchen, which is tuned to the local BOB station.**

OMD's "If You Leave" (you know, the big song from Pretty In Pink) came on, and I gradually felt myself morphing into being about 14 years old again.

So I'm making mashed potatoes for the Zweeble (yes, for breakfast) and wondering, This song? Seriously? This is the one that plays and I remember myself 20-odd years ago? (and as an aside, TWENTY-ODD?! Holy freaking cats and cows, people!!!!)

And I realized ... well, of course. I have fully embraced the cheesy music of my youth (well, most of it) and bought a ton of it off iTunes. It's lost its impact.*** But this one--sure, I liked it back then, but I didn't like it enough to track it down and buy it. Thus, impact remains.

Still, what do those lyrics mean?


**BOB is like Jack, where the claim is that they play anything. And they do play a wide variety of stuff, but not as wide as you'd think from the imaging.

***I noticed this loss of impact yesterday when "Oh Carolina" came on the iPod and I didn't immediately flash back to my semester in England. So it's kind of funny that today I came across a song that hadn't lost it.
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I found this and the person who'd done it skipped a bunch of questions, and I think I'll probably do that, too.

1. When did you get married? December 17, 2000.

2. What day of the week was it? Sunday.

5. How long were you and your significant other together before getting married? Nine years.

7. How did your engagement happen? I was in grad school and we'd been together for about 6 years at that point. We were coming back to our very bohemian apartment discussing how [livejournal.com profile] dealio kept referring to me as his fiancee.

"Well, you are," he said.

"I haven't heard a proposal," I replied. "And I see no ring on my finger." (This was a joke. He knew I didn't like diamonds and that I found the idea of spending a year's salary on a ring ridiculous.)

So a while later, after I'd forgotten the conversation, we were wrestling around (goofily, as we were wont to do when we were young and had actual energy for such things) and he pinned me. He smiled at me, very sweetly, and asked, "Will you marry me?"

I, being myself, cracked up. But I did eventually say yes, once the giggles passed.

8. How long was the engagement? Three years? If my parents hadn't gotten involved, we'd probably still be engaged.

9. Did he ask the parents? Sort of. He thought about asking my father, then forgot. So when I called to tell the family we were officially engaged, I mentioned this to my mother. She asked Dad, "Hey, Scott wants to know if it's okay with you if he and Laura get married." Dad's response was, "Well, is she okay with it?"

11. Where was your wedding ceremony and/or reception? The foyer and the dining room of the country club in my hometown.

12. What were your wedding colors? dark green and dark red--they would have been that, anyway, but it was a Christmas wedding. Ironically, that year the country club decorated in sherbert blue, pink, and green.

13. Did your father walk you down the aisle? Yes. And he made sure I didn't trip.

16. Did either of you get drunk? We actually had a relatively dry wedding. I don't drink, and we invited a lot of recovering alcoholics, plus it was a Sunday night. But people brought their own stashes, and my husband gave flasks of ... vodka? I think? to the groomsmen, so it was a little like Prohibition. :)

20. Did you smash the cake? We did cupcakes that my husband then threw across the room to people.

22. Favorite part of your wedding day? The photographer got me into the green room where the wedding party was supposed to hang out, and she and my mom got my veil arranged, situated my dress, posed me, and then threw everyone else out before telling Scott to go down and see me before pictures. He opened the doors and just ... stopped. I felt like the most beautiful thing on the planet at that moment.

I also enjoyed him walking around me and the dress going, "Mmm-hmm, very nice, very nice. I like it."

23. Least favorite part? Well, the DJ misplaced the song my father and I were supposed to dance to, so I had to decide really fast on a song to replace it. The DJ's shoving a list of song titles at me, half of which I know are cheesy, the other half I've never heard of, so I finally ask him if he has the Sam Cooke song I'd put on our "please find these and play them during the night" list. He says yes, I tell him to use that one, and he asks me if I'm sure.

Dude, I was sure about the song I requested three months ago. If you wanted me to be sure, you should have done your job and had a backup.

It turned out well, though, because neither Dad nor I cried and we had a fun dance.

24. Would you do it all again? Um ... well, sure. I loved my wedding and I had all my closest friends there, and it was worth all the stress and money. So, yes. If I was also 27 again.

Now, if I decide to renew my vows or something like that, I will probably do something totally different and much more casual. But I'd still have all the same people there.

26. How long have you been married? 8 years.

I'm going to add something here--it truly sucks that I am married and some of my friends aren't allowed to get married. Every single (pardon the pun) person in this country or any other should be able to have a day like I did--throwing cupcakes across the country club dining room; dancing to the wrong song with a parent; having one friend dye his hair to match your colors while another proves he's the best friend ever by suffering through a tuxedo to be your maid of honor; seeing your friend the officiant cry because she's so happy she gets to marry the two of you. Everyone should be able to have that kind of a day, or whatever version of all that would make for your perfect wedding, assuming you and your best beloved want one.

So there.

bubbles

Feb. 28th, 2009 08:57 am
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My father got the Zweeble one of those bubble wands that looks like a light saber--tube of bubble juice, long narrow oval attached to a red hilt. We already had a small bottle of bubbles from last year, I think. Then Dad also got the Zweeb a bubble gun for their house.

We now have two light saber wands, a (rather lame, actually) container of 80 bubble wands, a jug of bubble juice, and an (actually pretty cool and it works) unspillable tub for said juice.

All of which is to preface this: every night this week, we've been outside blowing bubbles.

I forgot that I love blowing bubbles.

In high school, the best birthday I ever had was my 18th. All of my friends got me really silly gifts (except for [livejournal.com profile] doggiesushi, but that's a story for another day), one of which was a bottle of bubbles. I walked between classes blowing bubbles, which I'm sure was annoying and pretentious--oh look at me, I'm whimsical!--but I can't quite roll my eyes over it as I look back. That was a rough year, and blowing the bubbles made me happy.

In college, I'd blow bubbles out of my third-story dorm room window. Also slightly pretentious. But fun.

Now I'm in the back yard with my kid during a really rough week, and ... calm. Blowing bubbles and being silly. I like the long cylinder of bubble before it breaks off and becomes round, especially when it catches the evening light and tinges purple. I like watching the bubbles hit the right eddy of wind and rise over the roof. And when one bubble blows across the yard and out into the vacant lot next door before it pops--I dig that. Yesterday I waved the light saber in the right place to surround the Zweeble with bubbles. He thought it was cool, but not as cool as I thought it was, apparently.

So, yeah, bubbles.

old-ish.

May. 11th, 2008 03:01 pm
seldnei: (Default)
I love seeing [livejournal.com profile] doggiesushi. I hadn't seen him since ... hmm, before I got pregnant, so somewhere before summer 2006. Probably it was in 2005?

Anyway, I've known John since we were 10 and always sat together at lunch. Okay, here's a goofy memory: at lunch, every class was assigned a group of tables. Most of the cafeteria tables were orange picnic tables with attached benches. The Ultimate Awesome Tables were more like a fancy version of a folding table, with chairs, and the chairs were padded. 98% of these tables were assigned to the 6th grade.** Our particular 5th grade class was given one half of an Ultimate Awesome Table. Six chairs. And because John and I were two of the six nerds who brought their lunches, thus getting to skip the lunch line, we got to sit there. And then our teacher (I believe) made whatever seats we were in the first day our assigned seats at lunch for the year.

Bwa-hahahahahahahahahaha!

So, yes, we've known each other for going on 25 years (and you were impressed that [livejournal.com profile] dealio and I have been together for almost 17, JC. HA!), and this was the first time John seemed a bit older. People always tell both of us how little we've changed since school--I get less of that now, with baby weight and short hair--and for John, when I see him, it's true, despite the wildly varying hair lengths and colors. But this time, he'd aged a little. Not much, but a little. So 21, not 19 anymore. He's apparently legal, finally, in my head. :) It was odd--maybe I was just tired, but there were a couple of moments when I felt like ... this is the John his friends in Michigan see, the same basic person I knew all through school, but grown and changed and slightly different. Not in a bad way; we're just getting older. I mean, I see these things with [livejournal.com profile] jkason, too, to some extent, but I see him more often so it's more gradual. And [livejournal.com profile] dealio ... I only notice the changes in him when I look at old pictures.

I'm sure it was bizarre for John, too, seeing me with my kid. Though the Zweeble was, as always, charming.

It was fun, though. I was laughing so hard I couldn't talk at one point, when we got to reminiscing about going to a swim meet and nearly drowning one of our friends by standing at the end of her lane and screaming "GO!!!!" in her face when she came up for air. She's still mad about that (I suppose I can't blame her), and she's one of those people who barely remember high school.

**our elementary school went to 6th grade, then kids moved to the high school, which was 7th-12th grade. Except the year we were in 5th grade, they built the town's first junior high, 6th-8th grade, so we and the class above us went there the next year. So none of us fifth graders were ever going to get the Ultimate Awesome Tables.

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Laura E. Price

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