to exercise. Okay, that was a lame one, so sue me. But this morning Joe and I tried to take Molly for a walk. We got halfway down the block, when a stray dog came darting out from between two houses. Okay, we thought, we'll go the other direction. We got almost to our house, when another loose dog darted out. So things got a little interesting. Joe got Molly to the front door while I kept telling both dogs to shoo. Then I took her in while Joe tried to find the owners of the dogs. One dog belonged to a family on our street, but the other did genuinely seem to be a stray. It ran off, and I thought it was safe for me to go ahead and take a very disconsolate Molly for her walk. Big mistake. The dog came back. So Molly and I walked at a very rapid pace while Joe distracted the other dog. I definitely earned some activity points this morning.
Then tonight I got the brilliant idea to watch Morgan Spurlock's Supersize Me. I love the movie, and I love it even more now that I've made tremendous progress in detoxing. I honestly couldn't tell you the last time I ate at McDonalds or Wendy's. I haven't had a soda in months, barring the three or four sips I reluctantly took (at Joe's insistence) of 7-Up on Christmas night. But as I watched the movie, I felt compelled to set up my Gazelle and do a fast-paced 20 minute workout.
It's funny to realize that over the last several months I have come to really enjoy exercising. It's something I look forward to, and enjoy doing. I must also confess that it was really exciting to find that my butt no longer touches both sides of the Gazelle. That was gratifying. And when I plugged in my height and weight into a BMI calculator, it was also gratifying to learn that I've gone from morbidly obese to severely obese. I don't feel severely obese. It's all a matter of perception, I suppose. Someone who doesn't know me at all would probably look at me and be appalled at how fat I am. But someone who does know me would look at me and call me a big loser, or, like one of my co-workers, call me slim and sexy. I'm obviously far from slim, but I feel slim, and I'm feeling confident and healthy and active, and it feels good. So does the confidence and health and activity and good that I feel make a difference in the perception of the total stranger? Would that total stranger perceive me as a little smaller than I actually am, because I feel so self-confident and healthy? Or would it make no difference?
It doesn't matter, of course, because I don't care overmuch what anyone thinks about me. It's too taxing to worry about anyone else's opinion. The people whose opinions matter love me anyway, and those who don't don't matter.
It's 10:43 on New Year's Eve. I'm valiantly fighting the urge to make resolutions. I tried to make anti-resolutions last year, and even that didn't work. I didn't read all the books I could have. I ate oatmeal a few times. And I refuse to go look at that list again to see all the other ways I failed. I could make absolutely no-fail resolutions, like resolving to stay a non-smoker, but I don't want to tempt fate. So I'm going to remain resolutely resolution-free. No resolutions. I'm boycotting the resolutions this year.
Now it's 10:46 p.m. on New Year's Eve. My tender-hearted husband just brought our spoiled dog a bowl of milk. Said spoiled dog is laying with her head on the pillows on the futon on top of my satin cover and on top of the blanket. I'm about to evict her. He is tender-hearted, and I am an evil bit-cah. Bwa-ha-ha-ha.
Dangit! I don't get to be evil. She just heard the neighbors' dogs barking, and jumped off the bed to join in the 10:47 bark. Oh, well. As long as I get the futon back, I don't care how. And besides, my tender-hearted husband also brought me half a banana. And it's okay that he only brought me half a banana, because he also gave me half his tangerine an hour ago. 'Cause he's just sweet like that.
Happy New Year, everybody. Peace, love, joy, harmony, and every good thing to you and yours.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Eragon
Go see it. You'll love it! :) The movie progresses a lot more smoothly and easily than the book did, and has plenty of eye candy. It was well cast, has beautiful scenery, and was just a good movie. I wanted to turn around and buy another ticket and go watch it all over again.
Went to DSW Shoes, and found an absolutely gorgeous pair of brown satin and lace pumps on clearance. I also found a pair of black high-heeled loafers on clearance. And they were having their clearance sale, which meant everything on clearance was an additional 50% off. And I had a $10 certificate from when they did their system changeover earlier in the year. And I had a $5 certificate that they sent me for my birthday. So I ended up spending only $15 out-of-pocket for both pairs of shoes. Color me very, very happy.
I also went to Barnes and Noble and finally purchased book 7 of the Pendragon series. So I'm looking forward to having a good read later on tonight. I'm nearly finished clearing out the Egypt room, so the good read will be a well-earned one.
And I nearly forgot to report my good news from this morning's weigh-in! I was down 3.8 pounds (for the last two weeks), and got another 5-pound star. I'm up to 36.4 pounds lost, which is very exciting.
Changing the subject here. I feel like I should say something about Saddam Hussein here. I was a little startled at how rapidly he was executed. Joe came into the bedroom last night to tell me that he was dead. I have been thinking a lot about him today. He is responsible for so many deaths; so much evil and horrors have been carried out under his orders and in his name. What is he seeing and feeling and experiencing now? I'm not glad he's dead. I don't mean that I wish he were still here, still in power, still able to do evil, because I'm not. I can't be. But I can't be glad in his destruction either. It's horrible. I know that the things I've done wrong torment me when I allow myself to think of them, and I cannot imagine the torment he must be feeling now. I don't know if I'm making any sense, so I'll stop. I guess I just had to take a moment and try to express my thoughts.
Went to DSW Shoes, and found an absolutely gorgeous pair of brown satin and lace pumps on clearance. I also found a pair of black high-heeled loafers on clearance. And they were having their clearance sale, which meant everything on clearance was an additional 50% off. And I had a $10 certificate from when they did their system changeover earlier in the year. And I had a $5 certificate that they sent me for my birthday. So I ended up spending only $15 out-of-pocket for both pairs of shoes. Color me very, very happy.
I also went to Barnes and Noble and finally purchased book 7 of the Pendragon series. So I'm looking forward to having a good read later on tonight. I'm nearly finished clearing out the Egypt room, so the good read will be a well-earned one.
And I nearly forgot to report my good news from this morning's weigh-in! I was down 3.8 pounds (for the last two weeks), and got another 5-pound star. I'm up to 36.4 pounds lost, which is very exciting.
Changing the subject here. I feel like I should say something about Saddam Hussein here. I was a little startled at how rapidly he was executed. Joe came into the bedroom last night to tell me that he was dead. I have been thinking a lot about him today. He is responsible for so many deaths; so much evil and horrors have been carried out under his orders and in his name. What is he seeing and feeling and experiencing now? I'm not glad he's dead. I don't mean that I wish he were still here, still in power, still able to do evil, because I'm not. I can't be. But I can't be glad in his destruction either. It's horrible. I know that the things I've done wrong torment me when I allow myself to think of them, and I cannot imagine the torment he must be feeling now. I don't know if I'm making any sense, so I'll stop. I guess I just had to take a moment and try to express my thoughts.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Still wishin' I were anywhere but here! I walked into the office this morning and my nostrils were assaulted by a really noxious aroma. No one seemed to know what it was, so one of the managers called the non-emergency number for the fire department. They ordered us to evacuate while they got some people over here to check it out. It turned out to be paint thinner; the building management had people painting the elevator last night. To add injury to injury, they started painting again in the common areas late this morning. So my chest is burning and I've got a rip-roaring headache. One wonders (actually, more than one wonders--I've had multiple people stop into my office to wonder) why they didn't do the painting on Saturday, when the building would be empty for three days. And of course our company can't allow us to go home! It's month-end AND it's December. December, for those of you who don't know, is never a good month for collections. December is the month when people would rather buy Christmas presents than pay their bills. So here I sit, trying to keep busy (I'm not a collector--I'm an admin assistant) and trying not to puke from the fumes.
But hey, three-day weekend coming up, always a good thing. And it's the last holiday weekend until Memorial Day, so I really need to enjoy it. I'm going to do some shopping tomorrow morning. And Liz and I have been planning for 6 weeks at least to go to a movie, and we keep putting it off. So we're going to a movie tomorrow, dangit, no matter what! And then I'll go back home and do laundry until I drop.
You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? You don't believe that a fully grown woman (I was about to say fully grown mountain troll, because I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone last night) could really and truly procrastinate her laundry until she has as much laundry as I tell you that I have. You don't really believe that a responsible mature person could get by only washing enough underwear and wearing the lightly dirtied clothes so that she has huge and enormous piles of laundry, huh? Pardon me while I laugh hysterically.
*************************
Okay. I'm back. See, part of the problem is due to the fact that our house is laid out rather weirdly. The washing machine is in the kitchen. The dryer is in the room that used to be the garage but is now in the room we optimistically call the music room, but is really the hell room (don't know what the hell to do with something? Throw it in there). The other part of the problem is due to the fact that our house is hugely cluttered. That's not news to you, as I talk about this problem frequently. Joe has a lot of stuff piled up that blocks the way into the hell room. That means that it is virtually impossible for me to get a load of wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. If Joe's around, he'll do it for me. If not, then I don't mess with it. I'd rather not break my leg and have to call 911--the paramedics would tell everyone they know how messy my house was! So yeah, doing laundry is a huge hassle, which is why I have tons of laundry to do.
Yesterday Joe dismantled the daybed in the Egypt room and put the futon in there. I am happy with that change. I spent 4 hours in there yesterday moving furniture, throwing out trash, throwing dog toys in the hall (and how many toys does one dog need, anyway? She's got more toys than some people's kids have!), throwing dirty clothes into the hall, sorting through papers to see what was trash and what needed to be saved (and much more of it was trash than I realized), etc. So have you ever seen those huge contractor's trash bags? They're almost as tall as I am, and as big around as a regular black leaf-sized trash bag. Well, I have two of those full of dirty clothes that I have to wash this weekend. I would estimate that of those two bags of dirty clothes, at least half of them are too big for me, which means that some of them will go to my friend and the rest will go into storage. That means that half of those clothes are getting out of my house. That means less clutter.
Okay, yeah, I bought two shirts today during lunch at Target, but I'm still on the positive side here. One huge ginormous trash bag out, two tiny shirts in. And hey, the shirts were purchased in the Misses' section, NOT in the Women's section!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And I also took those handbags I'm getting rid of and put them in my car. I'll stop by the Goodwill drop-off on my way home from work today, and get them out of my life forever. Whee! See? Another big bag of clutter out of the house! And I found the three drastically overdue library books and they're also in my car and are going back to the library today. And I'm never going to a library again. Never. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever again. Never. As in, if I ever tell you I'm going to a library, stop me, with force if necessary. Don't let me do it. That is all.
But hey, three-day weekend coming up, always a good thing. And it's the last holiday weekend until Memorial Day, so I really need to enjoy it. I'm going to do some shopping tomorrow morning. And Liz and I have been planning for 6 weeks at least to go to a movie, and we keep putting it off. So we're going to a movie tomorrow, dangit, no matter what! And then I'll go back home and do laundry until I drop.
You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? You don't believe that a fully grown woman (I was about to say fully grown mountain troll, because I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone last night) could really and truly procrastinate her laundry until she has as much laundry as I tell you that I have. You don't really believe that a responsible mature person could get by only washing enough underwear and wearing the lightly dirtied clothes so that she has huge and enormous piles of laundry, huh? Pardon me while I laugh hysterically.
*************************
Okay. I'm back. See, part of the problem is due to the fact that our house is laid out rather weirdly. The washing machine is in the kitchen. The dryer is in the room that used to be the garage but is now in the room we optimistically call the music room, but is really the hell room (don't know what the hell to do with something? Throw it in there). The other part of the problem is due to the fact that our house is hugely cluttered. That's not news to you, as I talk about this problem frequently. Joe has a lot of stuff piled up that blocks the way into the hell room. That means that it is virtually impossible for me to get a load of wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. If Joe's around, he'll do it for me. If not, then I don't mess with it. I'd rather not break my leg and have to call 911--the paramedics would tell everyone they know how messy my house was! So yeah, doing laundry is a huge hassle, which is why I have tons of laundry to do.
Yesterday Joe dismantled the daybed in the Egypt room and put the futon in there. I am happy with that change. I spent 4 hours in there yesterday moving furniture, throwing out trash, throwing dog toys in the hall (and how many toys does one dog need, anyway? She's got more toys than some people's kids have!), throwing dirty clothes into the hall, sorting through papers to see what was trash and what needed to be saved (and much more of it was trash than I realized), etc. So have you ever seen those huge contractor's trash bags? They're almost as tall as I am, and as big around as a regular black leaf-sized trash bag. Well, I have two of those full of dirty clothes that I have to wash this weekend. I would estimate that of those two bags of dirty clothes, at least half of them are too big for me, which means that some of them will go to my friend and the rest will go into storage. That means that half of those clothes are getting out of my house. That means less clutter.
Okay, yeah, I bought two shirts today during lunch at Target, but I'm still on the positive side here. One huge ginormous trash bag out, two tiny shirts in. And hey, the shirts were purchased in the Misses' section, NOT in the Women's section!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And I also took those handbags I'm getting rid of and put them in my car. I'll stop by the Goodwill drop-off on my way home from work today, and get them out of my life forever. Whee! See? Another big bag of clutter out of the house! And I found the three drastically overdue library books and they're also in my car and are going back to the library today. And I'm never going to a library again. Never. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever again. Never. As in, if I ever tell you I'm going to a library, stop me, with force if necessary. Don't let me do it. That is all.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I wish I were almost anywhere but here. At home doing laundry, perhaps. At a concert, screaming my head off. At the gym, working up a muck sweat. Shopping, always an enjoyable pastime (and what does that say about me?!). Hauling loads of stuff I don't need off to Goodwill. It doesn't need to be something fun--just something different.
I did get quite a bit of work done at home last night. Threw the piles of laundry that I've been studiously ignoring for the last long bit of time into laundry bags. Went through all the purses that have been cluttering my closet and decided which ones to keep and which ones to give to Goodwill. Argued with Joe about the ones I want to get rid of. Well, maybe argued is a little too strong a word. We didn't quite argue, but I did explain my view and listened to him explain his view, and then made a rebuttal. It's just that we have far too much clutter in a very small house. And I really don't need 30+ handbags. If I had saved the $10-$20 each of those handbags had cost me, I'd have enough to go get the good Coach or BCBG bag that I really want. So when I get home today, I'm taking 15-20 handbags to Goodwill, and keeping 10-15 handbags. It will be a much more manageable pile, and the ones I'm keeping are the ones I really do use. Honestly, some of the ones I'm getting rid of I have never even used, or have used only once or twice. Just a waste.
I also got two bags of clothes set aside to give to a friend who's also losing weight. And as I get the laundry done, some of the clothes will go to her, and others will go into storage. Joe says he's fully confident that I'm not going to regain the weight I have lost and am continuing to lose, but he still wants me to keep some of my favorites just in case, so that if I do perchance regain any of it, at least I'll have some good quality clothes that I like. This is one argument I have learned I won't win, so I'm through trying. I'm splitting up the clothes--half to my friend and half to storage. That will get a good bit of clutter out of the house.
See, it's annoying. He is the first to complain about how much crap we have in the house, and the first to say we just need to throw everything out. He is then the first to get upset when I try to throw things out, give them to Goodwill, give them to a friend or a charity who could use them. I have to resort to subterfuge to get things out. He'd rather pay $38 a month to store junk than let me just get rid of it. Go figure.
Wow. The total shallowness of this post is just seriously underwhelming.
How about some good news? Clover's son got transferred back to the children's hospital in Fort Worth. That makes life a lot easier for them right there, even if it were for no other reason than juggling the commute. But it's also good because they've been working with C. since he was a baby, and have his care very well coordinated, unlike the hospital in Dallas. As soon as I'm no longer snarking up gobs of snot I'm going to go visit him. (And on a completely unrelated note, why is it that I can snark up gobs of snot, but when I try blowing my nose, nothing comes out? I realize now disgusting it is to go around sniffing and making disgusting snarking noises, but I do try to blow, to no avail. So I have to sniff. Sorry.)
I did get quite a bit of work done at home last night. Threw the piles of laundry that I've been studiously ignoring for the last long bit of time into laundry bags. Went through all the purses that have been cluttering my closet and decided which ones to keep and which ones to give to Goodwill. Argued with Joe about the ones I want to get rid of. Well, maybe argued is a little too strong a word. We didn't quite argue, but I did explain my view and listened to him explain his view, and then made a rebuttal. It's just that we have far too much clutter in a very small house. And I really don't need 30+ handbags. If I had saved the $10-$20 each of those handbags had cost me, I'd have enough to go get the good Coach or BCBG bag that I really want. So when I get home today, I'm taking 15-20 handbags to Goodwill, and keeping 10-15 handbags. It will be a much more manageable pile, and the ones I'm keeping are the ones I really do use. Honestly, some of the ones I'm getting rid of I have never even used, or have used only once or twice. Just a waste.
I also got two bags of clothes set aside to give to a friend who's also losing weight. And as I get the laundry done, some of the clothes will go to her, and others will go into storage. Joe says he's fully confident that I'm not going to regain the weight I have lost and am continuing to lose, but he still wants me to keep some of my favorites just in case, so that if I do perchance regain any of it, at least I'll have some good quality clothes that I like. This is one argument I have learned I won't win, so I'm through trying. I'm splitting up the clothes--half to my friend and half to storage. That will get a good bit of clutter out of the house.
See, it's annoying. He is the first to complain about how much crap we have in the house, and the first to say we just need to throw everything out. He is then the first to get upset when I try to throw things out, give them to Goodwill, give them to a friend or a charity who could use them. I have to resort to subterfuge to get things out. He'd rather pay $38 a month to store junk than let me just get rid of it. Go figure.
Wow. The total shallowness of this post is just seriously underwhelming.
How about some good news? Clover's son got transferred back to the children's hospital in Fort Worth. That makes life a lot easier for them right there, even if it were for no other reason than juggling the commute. But it's also good because they've been working with C. since he was a baby, and have his care very well coordinated, unlike the hospital in Dallas. As soon as I'm no longer snarking up gobs of snot I'm going to go visit him. (And on a completely unrelated note, why is it that I can snark up gobs of snot, but when I try blowing my nose, nothing comes out? I realize now disgusting it is to go around sniffing and making disgusting snarking noises, but I do try to blow, to no avail. So I have to sniff. Sorry.)
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
This is a short one, just to ask you to please send some thoughts/prayers/white light, or whatever kind of positive thing you do Clover's way. Chase is still in the hospital, and may be heading to Houston this week to be evaluated for a lung transplant. If so, Clover will be the one going to Houston, most likely, and Pat will remain here with the other kids. Joe and I have obviously offered to do whatever we can to help, but it's not enough. It's never enough.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Joyeux Noel!
Good morning. It is still morning, at least for 9 more minutes. And Happy Christmas!
It's been a weird weekend/holiday time. I've been sick, with a disgustingly nasty cold. And Liz has been sick as well, with bronchitis, which means we didn't get to do fun sisterly shopping & moviating on Friday. I finished up my shopping as quickly as I could on Friday and then came home and crashed. I went out briefly on Saturday morning to buy some more gift bags, and then wrapped gifts for about 4 hours on Saturday, before spending the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday in bed. This seems like a good place to mention the extremely twisted dreams that Sudafed Nighttime Cold medicine gives me. Bizarre nightmares that include murder of various people, really strange quests (in one dream I was searching for liquor in a Circuit-City type store, and then went to the liquor store to buy the latest season of The Biggest Loser, a show that I've never even watched), various personality twists (I turned into Veronica Mars--I love the show, love the character, but don't want to be her), etc.
But today came, and brought Christmas with it, and Liz came over for the opening of the gifts, and Joe was sweet and Molly was all cute and Mollyful, and it's been a very nice morning. I'm still congested but I'm starting to be able to smell again, and breathe a bit, which is pleasant. Joe's making his famous mashed potatoes, and I've been permitted to taste test every batch. This is significant. He uses three varieties of potato (I did all the peeling--that was my contribution to Christmas dinner) and three varieties of butter (including a French import), and they have a million calories. I only eat them once a year now. So yum!
When Joe asked what I wanted for Christmas, I gave him two or three suggestions. I wanted a jewelry armoire, since my jewelry box wasn't big enough to hold my collection of mostly junk jewelry with the few nice pieces he's given me. I mentioned an iPod nano, since he's been talking about claiming my shuffle. But I was more than happy with my shuffle, so the nano wasn't a huge desire thing. Well, I think that he made it his personal mission to just spoil me rotten this Christmas. I've never had a time that I not only was given everything I could possibly want, but some things that I would never have even imagined wanting. He did get me a jewelry armoire, one far larger and more beautiful than I'd have dreamed of. He got me a lovely necklace and a pair of warped diamond hoop earrings that are so me it's amazing that anyone else thought to make them. He got me the iPod nano. He got me Elizabeth Arden perfume and nailcare stuff from those pushy people at the kiosks in the mall (but it's great stuff, trust me!), and just made me feel like a pampered princess. It's a lovely feeling, but I don't want to get too accustomed to it.
My mother and stepfather sent me a totally delightful gift, one that is so out of character that it just completely blew me away. I totally never lost touch with my inner child, as anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes perusing this blog knows. So I like Archie comic books. I haven't read them in ages, because I think they're ridiculously overpriced. But my sweet Mom went on ebay and bought me a stack of old Archie comics! So I'm going to read them, and then go buy some protective sleeves and keep them stored away. I also collect old Mad magazines (pre "we'll sell out and sell ads"), but it's not safe to give me those as gifts because I have quite a few. I didn't have any Archie comics, and would never have thought of buying them, so it was just a totally delightful gift. I have tried calling to both thank them and wish them a Merry Christmas. I'm guessing that either my mother is still asleep, or my stepfather is feeling extremely cranky, however, because they've taken the phone off the hook.
Well, I need to go curl my hair before we go over to Dad's and the Monster's for dinner. I've been sleeping for the better part of the last two days, and I look like it. I've managed to get myself dressed, but I'm not made up and my hair has been brushed but not styled. I'm not looking pretty yet. I will shortly, though. Once again, happy Christmas to you all!
It's been a weird weekend/holiday time. I've been sick, with a disgustingly nasty cold. And Liz has been sick as well, with bronchitis, which means we didn't get to do fun sisterly shopping & moviating on Friday. I finished up my shopping as quickly as I could on Friday and then came home and crashed. I went out briefly on Saturday morning to buy some more gift bags, and then wrapped gifts for about 4 hours on Saturday, before spending the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday in bed. This seems like a good place to mention the extremely twisted dreams that Sudafed Nighttime Cold medicine gives me. Bizarre nightmares that include murder of various people, really strange quests (in one dream I was searching for liquor in a Circuit-City type store, and then went to the liquor store to buy the latest season of The Biggest Loser, a show that I've never even watched), various personality twists (I turned into Veronica Mars--I love the show, love the character, but don't want to be her), etc.
But today came, and brought Christmas with it, and Liz came over for the opening of the gifts, and Joe was sweet and Molly was all cute and Mollyful, and it's been a very nice morning. I'm still congested but I'm starting to be able to smell again, and breathe a bit, which is pleasant. Joe's making his famous mashed potatoes, and I've been permitted to taste test every batch. This is significant. He uses three varieties of potato (I did all the peeling--that was my contribution to Christmas dinner) and three varieties of butter (including a French import), and they have a million calories. I only eat them once a year now. So yum!
When Joe asked what I wanted for Christmas, I gave him two or three suggestions. I wanted a jewelry armoire, since my jewelry box wasn't big enough to hold my collection of mostly junk jewelry with the few nice pieces he's given me. I mentioned an iPod nano, since he's been talking about claiming my shuffle. But I was more than happy with my shuffle, so the nano wasn't a huge desire thing. Well, I think that he made it his personal mission to just spoil me rotten this Christmas. I've never had a time that I not only was given everything I could possibly want, but some things that I would never have even imagined wanting. He did get me a jewelry armoire, one far larger and more beautiful than I'd have dreamed of. He got me a lovely necklace and a pair of warped diamond hoop earrings that are so me it's amazing that anyone else thought to make them. He got me the iPod nano. He got me Elizabeth Arden perfume and nailcare stuff from those pushy people at the kiosks in the mall (but it's great stuff, trust me!), and just made me feel like a pampered princess. It's a lovely feeling, but I don't want to get too accustomed to it.
My mother and stepfather sent me a totally delightful gift, one that is so out of character that it just completely blew me away. I totally never lost touch with my inner child, as anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes perusing this blog knows. So I like Archie comic books. I haven't read them in ages, because I think they're ridiculously overpriced. But my sweet Mom went on ebay and bought me a stack of old Archie comics! So I'm going to read them, and then go buy some protective sleeves and keep them stored away. I also collect old Mad magazines (pre "we'll sell out and sell ads"), but it's not safe to give me those as gifts because I have quite a few. I didn't have any Archie comics, and would never have thought of buying them, so it was just a totally delightful gift. I have tried calling to both thank them and wish them a Merry Christmas. I'm guessing that either my mother is still asleep, or my stepfather is feeling extremely cranky, however, because they've taken the phone off the hook.
Well, I need to go curl my hair before we go over to Dad's and the Monster's for dinner. I've been sleeping for the better part of the last two days, and I look like it. I've managed to get myself dressed, but I'm not made up and my hair has been brushed but not styled. I'm not looking pretty yet. I will shortly, though. Once again, happy Christmas to you all!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Boogers, Worms, and Pus
Boys like disgusting things, right? Izzybella saw some stress balls that, when squeezed, have really disgusting things pop out, like worms, and pus, and cockroaches. So she bought some for Clover's son. I was so grossed out by them, but can totally visualize the look on C's face as he gleefully shows them to all the unfortunate doctors and nurses who stop by. He is really going to have a lot of fun with those revolting balls.
Last night Izzybella and I went Christmas shopping. Have you seen those 20-questions electronic games? We got one of those for C as well. I experimented with it. If you get the chance to pick one up, try it out, thinking of a booger. The questions it will ask you are hilarious. Can it fit in an envelope? Yes. Can you walk on it? Well, yes, but it will stick to the bottom of your shoe. Is it multicolored? Well, that just kind of depends. Can you buy it at a store? No, not so much, unless you're buying Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. And then you're not buying a real one, just a booger-flavored jelly bean. Needless to say, the game did not guess a booger. It guessed a fairy. I had way too much fun.
The creeping crud continues to creep. It is currently still in my nose, throat, and has crept down into my upper chest. I can feel it creeping toward my lungs. If I try to speak, I sound like a frog croaking. I'm at work this morning. Whether I will be at work this afternoon just kind of depends. When I do go home, whether it be at noon or at 4, I'm going to knock back some Nyquil and head straight for bed. It seems like I may have mentioned doing the same thing yesterday, but that so didn't happen. I ended up going Christmas shopping, then having some dinner (a bowl of tortilla soup and 5 french fries), and then having a very serious 3-hour discussion with my husband, and then a long, sleepless night.
I'm scheduled to be off work tomorrow for Christmas shopping purposes. Since Izzybella and I got so much done yesterday, there's not too much to be done tomorrow. And I suspect I felt better yesterday than I will tomorrow, so that works. And she's already kindly volunteered to wrap gifts. Fortunately, I have already wrapped everything I have previously bought up until last night, so there's not too much to wrap. Also fortunately I have a fairly large selection of gift bags, so the actually wrapping may not be as heinous a job as it could be.
Okay, well, I can't think of anything else disgusting to talk about, so I'll start working again. Well, that's not strictly true. I mean, I can always think of something disgusting to talk about. But I really should get back to work, right? Right?
Last night Izzybella and I went Christmas shopping. Have you seen those 20-questions electronic games? We got one of those for C as well. I experimented with it. If you get the chance to pick one up, try it out, thinking of a booger. The questions it will ask you are hilarious. Can it fit in an envelope? Yes. Can you walk on it? Well, yes, but it will stick to the bottom of your shoe. Is it multicolored? Well, that just kind of depends. Can you buy it at a store? No, not so much, unless you're buying Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. And then you're not buying a real one, just a booger-flavored jelly bean. Needless to say, the game did not guess a booger. It guessed a fairy. I had way too much fun.
The creeping crud continues to creep. It is currently still in my nose, throat, and has crept down into my upper chest. I can feel it creeping toward my lungs. If I try to speak, I sound like a frog croaking. I'm at work this morning. Whether I will be at work this afternoon just kind of depends. When I do go home, whether it be at noon or at 4, I'm going to knock back some Nyquil and head straight for bed. It seems like I may have mentioned doing the same thing yesterday, but that so didn't happen. I ended up going Christmas shopping, then having some dinner (a bowl of tortilla soup and 5 french fries), and then having a very serious 3-hour discussion with my husband, and then a long, sleepless night.
I'm scheduled to be off work tomorrow for Christmas shopping purposes. Since Izzybella and I got so much done yesterday, there's not too much to be done tomorrow. And I suspect I felt better yesterday than I will tomorrow, so that works. And she's already kindly volunteered to wrap gifts. Fortunately, I have already wrapped everything I have previously bought up until last night, so there's not too much to wrap. Also fortunately I have a fairly large selection of gift bags, so the actually wrapping may not be as heinous a job as it could be.
Okay, well, I can't think of anything else disgusting to talk about, so I'll start working again. Well, that's not strictly true. I mean, I can always think of something disgusting to talk about. But I really should get back to work, right? Right?
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Grrrr
I hate being sick. I particularly hate being sick at Christmas time. The world around me is full of happy jolly people who are happy and jolly around me. And I feel like shite. My throat's as raw as ground hamburger that, well, hasn't been cooked yet. My nose is stuffy. My head hurts. I don't feel happy and jolly. I wanna cry. I wanna go home and take some nasty disgusting Nyquil and pull the covers over my head and cry myself to sleep.
How petty of me.
Today we're having our potluck and Secret Santa gift exchange. The very manly manager whose name I drew didn't have his wishlist up for several days. Finally, in exasperation, I went to my boss (a senior manager) and asked her to tell him that if he didn't get his list up soon, he was going to receive Hello Kitty stuff for Christmas. She laughed, and made the threat. He believed her, and got his list up a day or two later. Shucks! So I got him a very manly Dallas Cowboys shirt. But I wrapped it in Hello Kitty giftwrap. Because I'm just a nasty bitcah.
My calendar picture this month is the Lady of Shalott. I am enjoying looking at it. In my poverty-stricken college student days at the University of Utah, I had a huge print of this hanging in my basement apartment. I loved this picture. Still do, although I don't think I want a huge print of it hanging in my living room. I need to hit the calendar store right after Christmas when the calendars go on sale for half-price but before they're all gone. I don't think I want another PreRaphaelite calendar. I've enjoyed it this year, but its lush gorgeousness has been a little too much. I'm ready for something a little more austere.
I'm sucking another sugar-free Halls lozenge. This is my second of the morning, and it's only 8:45. I can always tell that I'm really sick when I manage to keep one in my mouth long enough for it to dissolve completely. The things are so utterly disgusting, but so satisfying when I'm sick enough to really need them.
Whimper whine complain gripe. Why don't y'all tell me to just shut up?
How petty of me.
Today we're having our potluck and Secret Santa gift exchange. The very manly manager whose name I drew didn't have his wishlist up for several days. Finally, in exasperation, I went to my boss (a senior manager) and asked her to tell him that if he didn't get his list up soon, he was going to receive Hello Kitty stuff for Christmas. She laughed, and made the threat. He believed her, and got his list up a day or two later. Shucks! So I got him a very manly Dallas Cowboys shirt. But I wrapped it in Hello Kitty giftwrap. Because I'm just a nasty bitcah.
My calendar picture this month is the Lady of Shalott. I am enjoying looking at it. In my poverty-stricken college student days at the University of Utah, I had a huge print of this hanging in my basement apartment. I loved this picture. Still do, although I don't think I want a huge print of it hanging in my living room. I need to hit the calendar store right after Christmas when the calendars go on sale for half-price but before they're all gone. I don't think I want another PreRaphaelite calendar. I've enjoyed it this year, but its lush gorgeousness has been a little too much. I'm ready for something a little more austere.
I'm sucking another sugar-free Halls lozenge. This is my second of the morning, and it's only 8:45. I can always tell that I'm really sick when I manage to keep one in my mouth long enough for it to dissolve completely. The things are so utterly disgusting, but so satisfying when I'm sick enough to really need them.
Whimper whine complain gripe. Why don't y'all tell me to just shut up?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Yippee!!!!
Trista has GREAT news! Kristin didn't even have a ginormous booger. It was a cyst. A huge infection-filled cyst. Such a relief. I was dreading going to check this morning, but so glad to hear the good news.
I've got a monster sore throat today. It's been percolating for almost a week, and it's finally decided that it's going to be good and sore now, dangit, and I can suck on all the yummy Ricola sugar-free lozenges I want to, but they're not going to help. I can eat all the fresh-cut pineapple I want to, but it's not going to help, either. I can drink water and exercise and be as healthy as I feel like being, but I'm going to have a sore throat. So there. Nyah-nyah-nyah. I hate sore throats. Nasty little buggers.
Joe's been grumpy lately. Very grumpy. Very, very, very, very grumpy. He was all sweet yesterday and bought a $19 jar of soup from Whole Foods for dinner. It was made by Mansion at Turtle Creek, and it was good, although I debate whether it was worth $19. I ate a bowl last night for dinner, with a bit of cut-up grilled chicken breast and some shredded fat-free cheese in it. And my throat was hurting and I was tired, so I went to bed and watched an episode of Buffy. Well, technically I watched about 3/4 of an episode of Buffy, because I fell asleep at some point. I woke up at 12:39 when the hall light went on and a sock landed on my face. Joe decided to throw a fit because our house was a wreck. Granted, our house is a wreck, but it's been a wreck for a damn long time. And I'm not the sole, nor even the main, reason that it's a wreck. I was highly pissed at being awakened at 12:39 by my husband's temper tantrum. I shut the door and tried to go back to sleep, to no avail. I got up about 20 minutes later, by which time he was all nice and sweet again. But I was mad, so I told him how the cow ate the cabbage. That got him mad again, so we argued for half an hour. I then went back to bed, and lay there for an hour or so before I could fall asleep again. Since I didn't sleep well the night before, that means that I'm really damn tired today and kind of grumpy.
I love my husband. He can be the greatest guy in the world, thoughtful, compassionate, understanding. But sometimes he just gets on every nerve in my body, and I want to just scream out of sheer frustration. 12:39 this morning was one of those times.
DISCLAIMER: My husband loves me. I can be the greatest wife in the world, thoughtful, compassionate, understanding. But sometimes I just get on every nerve in his body, and he just wants to scream out of sheer frustration. Apparently, leading up to 12:39 this morning was one of those times.
I've got a monster sore throat today. It's been percolating for almost a week, and it's finally decided that it's going to be good and sore now, dangit, and I can suck on all the yummy Ricola sugar-free lozenges I want to, but they're not going to help. I can eat all the fresh-cut pineapple I want to, but it's not going to help, either. I can drink water and exercise and be as healthy as I feel like being, but I'm going to have a sore throat. So there. Nyah-nyah-nyah. I hate sore throats. Nasty little buggers.
Joe's been grumpy lately. Very grumpy. Very, very, very, very grumpy. He was all sweet yesterday and bought a $19 jar of soup from Whole Foods for dinner. It was made by Mansion at Turtle Creek, and it was good, although I debate whether it was worth $19. I ate a bowl last night for dinner, with a bit of cut-up grilled chicken breast and some shredded fat-free cheese in it. And my throat was hurting and I was tired, so I went to bed and watched an episode of Buffy. Well, technically I watched about 3/4 of an episode of Buffy, because I fell asleep at some point. I woke up at 12:39 when the hall light went on and a sock landed on my face. Joe decided to throw a fit because our house was a wreck. Granted, our house is a wreck, but it's been a wreck for a damn long time. And I'm not the sole, nor even the main, reason that it's a wreck. I was highly pissed at being awakened at 12:39 by my husband's temper tantrum. I shut the door and tried to go back to sleep, to no avail. I got up about 20 minutes later, by which time he was all nice and sweet again. But I was mad, so I told him how the cow ate the cabbage. That got him mad again, so we argued for half an hour. I then went back to bed, and lay there for an hour or so before I could fall asleep again. Since I didn't sleep well the night before, that means that I'm really damn tired today and kind of grumpy.
I love my husband. He can be the greatest guy in the world, thoughtful, compassionate, understanding. But sometimes he just gets on every nerve in my body, and I want to just scream out of sheer frustration. 12:39 this morning was one of those times.
DISCLAIMER: My husband loves me. I can be the greatest wife in the world, thoughtful, compassionate, understanding. But sometimes I just get on every nerve in his body, and he just wants to scream out of sheer frustration. Apparently, leading up to 12:39 this morning was one of those times.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Life, The Universe, and Everything
First of all, if you're a praying person, please take a minute to send a prayer in behalf of Kristin, Trista, and Julia. Kristin had surgery this morning for what I'm frantically hoping is an ancient World Record-worthy gigantic booger that has gotten stuck up in her sinuses and grown to gargantuan proportions and isn't a tumor and isn't cancerous and is nothing at all to worry about. Regardless of whether it's a ginormous booger, a pearl, a jelly bean, or something far more serious, their family needs your prayers, or your positive thoughts, or whatever type of thing you do in situations like this.
The other family who really needs some positive thoughts or prayers is Clover and her family. It looks as though her son is going to be in the hospital over Christmas, something we were all hoping wasn't going to be the case. On the positive side, he probably will not need a liver transplant. Yay! On the not-so-positive side, he may end up having to go to a hospital in Houston to have his spleen removed and a shunt installed to get the blood flowing where it's supposed to. I've tried calling Clover this morning to find out when I can take Christmas dinner over there, but just got her voice mail. I'll try again shortly.
Liz and I were at her apartment yesterday. We'd hoped to finish clearing and cleaning, but it didn't happen. We did get a lot of the clearing finished, and some cleaning done. Salvation Army is coming on Saturday to pick up the furniture and assorted household items that she is donating, so we are planning to finish things up on Saturday. It is definitely do-able, and we will both be extremely glad to be done with that task.
When I weighed in on Saturday morning, I was down another 2.2 pounds, for a total of 34.6 pounds. I've had people at work tell me that I look slim and sexy. It's nice to hear, and I will admit that I feel slim and sexy. However, with another 96 pounds to go to hit my official Weight Watchers goal, I am FAR from slim! I keep promising pictures but haven't managed to get any taken yet. I was all set to get Joe to take one of me the night we went to see Barenaked Ladies. I had just barely snapped one of him when a security guard was in my face, ordering me to put my camera away because no photos were allowed. I asked if we could take just one more photo, pointing out that it wasn't even going to be of the stage, and the band wasn't out, etc., but she refused. It really pissed me off later on when, during the show, hundreds of people were taking photos and she didn't bother to stop any of them.
Wendy commented on how much my avatar looks like Trista's. I think we have the same hairdo. My hair is a titch longer and fuller, but they didn't have a hairdo that comes any closer to mine. And my hair is reddish brown, but the red is too red, so I chose the brown as I think it's closer. Wendy also said she thought I had blonde hair. I've never had fully blonde hair, although I have, from time to time, had a lot of blonde highlights at Joe's request. Let me state here that I look absolutely hideous with blonde hair, and I think I have finally convinced Joe of that fact. I look great with red hair, or dark brown hair. I look horrible with light brown or blonde hair.
I don't know if you can read the writing on my avatar's tee shirt, but it says Happy Hanukkah. Joe and I aren't Jewish, but we do celebrate Hanukkah every year in honor of Joe's stepfather, who was. We have a lovely menorah, and our candles this year are just lovely. It gives me warm fuzzies every night during Hanukkah when we say the blessing and light the candles, and just watch as they burn down to nothing until the candles are gone. (The warm fuzzies are definitely gone the next day, however, when I have to pry the cold hardened wax out of the menorah so we can put the candles in that night. I'm going to buy an oil menorah next year, I swear!) Anyone who knew Dad Farber loved him, and anyone who didn't get to know him missed out on knowing one of the funniest, warmest, wisest men who ever walked this earth. I swear I never met a man I loved as much as my father-in-law. So we honor Dad Farber every year at Hanukkah as much as we honor the Lord, and remember the miracle that happened so long ago. I was planning to have guests over on Friday night, and cook a lovely dinner with latkes and roasted root vegetables and a slow-cooked London broil (my attempt to mingle tradition with the WW core program). However, I've spent so much time and energy helping Liz that my house has completely fallen by the wayside. (That's not to imply that Liz is a power-hungry slave driver who's been cracking the whip; we've just been on a deadline trying to get her moved out before the lease is up and wanting to get it finished before Christmas. And she even kindly let me bail last week, and I went home every day after work and pretty much crashed in front of the telly and watched How Do I Look?) So instead we're meeting at Logan's Roadhouse and having steak and baked potatoes. Shame on me, I know. But it'll still be a good meal with good friends and family, and we'll have fun.
Gotta run. Remember to send love to those in need!
The other family who really needs some positive thoughts or prayers is Clover and her family. It looks as though her son is going to be in the hospital over Christmas, something we were all hoping wasn't going to be the case. On the positive side, he probably will not need a liver transplant. Yay! On the not-so-positive side, he may end up having to go to a hospital in Houston to have his spleen removed and a shunt installed to get the blood flowing where it's supposed to. I've tried calling Clover this morning to find out when I can take Christmas dinner over there, but just got her voice mail. I'll try again shortly.
Liz and I were at her apartment yesterday. We'd hoped to finish clearing and cleaning, but it didn't happen. We did get a lot of the clearing finished, and some cleaning done. Salvation Army is coming on Saturday to pick up the furniture and assorted household items that she is donating, so we are planning to finish things up on Saturday. It is definitely do-able, and we will both be extremely glad to be done with that task.
When I weighed in on Saturday morning, I was down another 2.2 pounds, for a total of 34.6 pounds. I've had people at work tell me that I look slim and sexy. It's nice to hear, and I will admit that I feel slim and sexy. However, with another 96 pounds to go to hit my official Weight Watchers goal, I am FAR from slim! I keep promising pictures but haven't managed to get any taken yet. I was all set to get Joe to take one of me the night we went to see Barenaked Ladies. I had just barely snapped one of him when a security guard was in my face, ordering me to put my camera away because no photos were allowed. I asked if we could take just one more photo, pointing out that it wasn't even going to be of the stage, and the band wasn't out, etc., but she refused. It really pissed me off later on when, during the show, hundreds of people were taking photos and she didn't bother to stop any of them.
Wendy commented on how much my avatar looks like Trista's. I think we have the same hairdo. My hair is a titch longer and fuller, but they didn't have a hairdo that comes any closer to mine. And my hair is reddish brown, but the red is too red, so I chose the brown as I think it's closer. Wendy also said she thought I had blonde hair. I've never had fully blonde hair, although I have, from time to time, had a lot of blonde highlights at Joe's request. Let me state here that I look absolutely hideous with blonde hair, and I think I have finally convinced Joe of that fact. I look great with red hair, or dark brown hair. I look horrible with light brown or blonde hair.
I don't know if you can read the writing on my avatar's tee shirt, but it says Happy Hanukkah. Joe and I aren't Jewish, but we do celebrate Hanukkah every year in honor of Joe's stepfather, who was. We have a lovely menorah, and our candles this year are just lovely. It gives me warm fuzzies every night during Hanukkah when we say the blessing and light the candles, and just watch as they burn down to nothing until the candles are gone. (The warm fuzzies are definitely gone the next day, however, when I have to pry the cold hardened wax out of the menorah so we can put the candles in that night. I'm going to buy an oil menorah next year, I swear!) Anyone who knew Dad Farber loved him, and anyone who didn't get to know him missed out on knowing one of the funniest, warmest, wisest men who ever walked this earth. I swear I never met a man I loved as much as my father-in-law. So we honor Dad Farber every year at Hanukkah as much as we honor the Lord, and remember the miracle that happened so long ago. I was planning to have guests over on Friday night, and cook a lovely dinner with latkes and roasted root vegetables and a slow-cooked London broil (my attempt to mingle tradition with the WW core program). However, I've spent so much time and energy helping Liz that my house has completely fallen by the wayside. (That's not to imply that Liz is a power-hungry slave driver who's been cracking the whip; we've just been on a deadline trying to get her moved out before the lease is up and wanting to get it finished before Christmas. And she even kindly let me bail last week, and I went home every day after work and pretty much crashed in front of the telly and watched How Do I Look?) So instead we're meeting at Logan's Roadhouse and having steak and baked potatoes. Shame on me, I know. But it'll still be a good meal with good friends and family, and we'll have fun.
Gotta run. Remember to send love to those in need!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
What Type of Weather Are You?
| You Are Lightning |
 Beautiful yet dangerous People will stop and watch you when you appear Even though you're capable of random violence You are best known for: your power Your dominant state: performing |
What's Your Celtic Horoscope?
| You Are A Hornbeam Tree |
 You are a reserved person, looking in from the outside. Naturally attractive, you take good care of your looks. You are not egoistic, and you make life as comfortable as possible. You look for kindness in others - though you are seldom happy with yourself. A bit mistrusting and unsure, you dream of being swept away by someone unusual. |
How Quirky Are You?
| Your Quirk Factor: 71% |
 You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average." |
What Art Movement Are You?
| You Are Surrealism |
 It's very likely that you've either dabbled in drugs or are naturally trippy. You are always trying to push beyond the boundaries of your culture and society. You believe that art, love, and freedom can change the world. |
What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?
| Your Hair Should Be Purple |
 |
Today
I don't have anything illuminating to say. So I'll just babble for a bit.
At my last weigh-in, I was down a total of 30.4 pounds. So I have my bright-red 5-pound bookmark, and it's bearing 5 shiny 5-pound stickers. I don't remember if I mentioned making my 10% goal a little while back, but I did, so I also have a keychain from Weight Watchers that is shaped like a numeral 10. I also have a 25-pound magnet. So the weight loss is proceeding apace. Never as fast as I'd like, even though I know it's healthier to lose slowly, but it is proceeding. I'm getting compliments, and I even caught my husband checking out my butt. It's been a while since that's happened, which is kinda sad and kinda funny all at the same time.
I'm feeling very guilty over abandoning Izzybella last night. But Joe and I had been arguing quite a bit all day, over stupid misunderstandings. It was around 3 or so before we both apologized and meant it, and I was grouchy and tired and grouchy and sleepy and oh, did I mention grouchy? So Izzybella very graciously let me off the hook. I didn't know about any of the other stuff that happened to her last night until about 10 minutes ago when I read her blog. I did call her this morning, but she didn't tell me about it. She just told me to read her blog.
Okay, well, I really don't have anything to say. I'll leave you with these well-known words from a notable wise man: blubber. oddment. nitwit. tweak.
At my last weigh-in, I was down a total of 30.4 pounds. So I have my bright-red 5-pound bookmark, and it's bearing 5 shiny 5-pound stickers. I don't remember if I mentioned making my 10% goal a little while back, but I did, so I also have a keychain from Weight Watchers that is shaped like a numeral 10. I also have a 25-pound magnet. So the weight loss is proceeding apace. Never as fast as I'd like, even though I know it's healthier to lose slowly, but it is proceeding. I'm getting compliments, and I even caught my husband checking out my butt. It's been a while since that's happened, which is kinda sad and kinda funny all at the same time.
I'm feeling very guilty over abandoning Izzybella last night. But Joe and I had been arguing quite a bit all day, over stupid misunderstandings. It was around 3 or so before we both apologized and meant it, and I was grouchy and tired and grouchy and sleepy and oh, did I mention grouchy? So Izzybella very graciously let me off the hook. I didn't know about any of the other stuff that happened to her last night until about 10 minutes ago when I read her blog. I did call her this morning, but she didn't tell me about it. She just told me to read her blog.
Okay, well, I really don't have anything to say. I'll leave you with these well-known words from a notable wise man: blubber. oddment. nitwit. tweak.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Izzybella Had a Birthday!
Yesterday was Izzybella's birthday! She didn't do one dang thing that was fun. Nope. Not a thing. She moved. If you've moved before, as I'm sure you have, you know that moving absolutely stinks. Unlike me, she decided to stick with her calendar age this year, although she said she may choose a different age next year. Whatever age she decides to be, she will wear it beautifully.
Let me tell you a little about Izzybella. She is, with the exception of my husband, and sometimes not even excluding him, my best friend. A lot of people don't get that. They aren't really good friends with any of their siblings, and don't understand how she and I can be such good friends. But we just are. Always have been. When my mother was pregnant with her third child, everyone said it was going to be another boy. My brother was elated at the thought of having a baby brother. My dad was bursting his buttons at the thought of siring a second son. My mother spent hours with her Kreskin's ESP thingie asking it if the baby was a boy, and the answer was always a yes. No one listened to me when I said it was a girl.
They should have listened, dangit, because I'm always right! (Except when I'm wrong, of course.)
So on December 11th, 19??, my sister put in her appearance. She has a very strong personality, and made that known from the beginning. One of my chores from the time she was a wee thing, besides changing her diapers, was to get her out of her crib in the morning. Once she was old enough to stand and scream, she would move to the far corner of the crib, after first snatching a handful of my long, lustrous dark brown hair near the roots, and scream, "No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!" My arms weren't long enough to reach to said far corner of the crib and remove her, so I would usually try to disentangle my hair from her fingers and hope I wouldn't go deaf before my mother or father would come and rescue me. Why the hell my mother would put me through such hell every morning was beyond me at the time, although it occurred to me much later that my mother didn't really want to go through that hell either, and figured eventually I'd grow another inch or so and manage to get her out of the damned crib myself, which of course I did, and that stage of purgatory ended.
Being eight years and three days older than my sister, I was her (usually) willing and devoted slave. I spoiled her rotten. I remember this one dress that I fell in love with at the store, and persuaded my mother to buy for her. It had a long blue skirt with a ruffle at the hem, and a white bodice with large blue polka dots. She looked so cute in it that it was absolutely revolting. Whenever I had any money, which wasn't nearly often enough, I liked to buy her things.
Things weren't always perfect in paradise, of course. She and I had our spats. It was the worst when we had to share a bedroom, because she was a neat freak and I was an utter slob. So on the not-rare-enough occasions when we'd be sent to clean our room, she'd be livid because she'd have to help clean up my messes even though she wasn't particularly messy. Usually these spats would end up in us screaming at each other, red-faced with anger, until the humor in the situation dawned upon me and I'd start laughing. That would infuriate her even more, upon which she'd start stomping around. I'd laugh some more, and say something taunting like, "Stomp a little louder, why doncha?" She would then make every effort to stomp louder, which made me laugh more, which pissed her off even more. She couldn't understand then why I was laughing. She thought I was laughing at her. What I was really laughing at was the fact that these two girls, who loved each other more than any other people on the earth, were screaming at each other like nobody's business, over something as insignificant as who threw something under the bed (I did) and who had to pick it up (she did) and was it fair (of course not, but I was the biggest and deal with it already). I was a rotten stinker, and I admit that.
I remember coming home from school or a friend's house or somewhere one day, and finding her with a too-innocent look on her makeup smeared face. With good cause I immediately got furious with her for getting into my makeup. She denied it, and cried because I was picking on her for no reason, and finally admitted it, and all was well. She never did figure out how I knew she'd been in my makeup until several years later.
I didn't know that she used to wear my clothes to school. I left for school/work before she did, and got home after she did. But then one year she made the mistake of wearing one of my Hawaiian shirts on school picture day. When her pictures came, she tried to hide them from me. When I finally insisted on getting one, because I love my sister, dangit, there she was, wearing my shirt. I wasn't too mad about that, although I pretended to be. (My Abbey Road tee-shirt, however, is another matter. ;p)
Her nicknames include Lizardbreath and Zard. She was called Betsy from the moment she was born until she got tired of it and managed to convince everyone in the family that they were never to call her Betsy ever again under pain of death. She was very convincing. I call her Liz or Lizzy or Lizardbreath or Lizardy or Zard or Bubelah or Sugar or Sweetie or Honey or Bit-cah.
When she was young--I don't quite remember how old she was, but her figure was about 18-18-18--she used to sing "Bill Bailey," and she could put quite a Mae West-like growl in the song. It was so cute, and she thought she was so hot and sex-ay.
She used to think I had eyes in the back of my head. Well, that's partly my fault, because I told her I did. Well, come on now--don't most mothers/older sisters say that? You see the kids come in from the back yard dripping wet, and you know they've been playing in the water. But they're not quite bright enough yet to realize that the evidence supports that conclusion, so you tell them you have eyes in the back of your head and they believe you. What I didn't know was that she would wait until I was asleep at night, and then try to find my eyes in the back of my head. But she never could. She decided they were invisible eyes, which made her even more impressed with me. Bwah-hah-hah!
There are other stories I could tell about Izzybella, but I won't. Partly because she'd kill me, and partly because you'd have to have been there. And you weren't. Nyah-nyah-nyah. Just know that she's the best sister a girl could have, and the best friend. I consider myself amazingly blessed to have had her companionship on my journey through life. If you get a chance, go by her blog and wish her a happy birthday.
Let me tell you a little about Izzybella. She is, with the exception of my husband, and sometimes not even excluding him, my best friend. A lot of people don't get that. They aren't really good friends with any of their siblings, and don't understand how she and I can be such good friends. But we just are. Always have been. When my mother was pregnant with her third child, everyone said it was going to be another boy. My brother was elated at the thought of having a baby brother. My dad was bursting his buttons at the thought of siring a second son. My mother spent hours with her Kreskin's ESP thingie asking it if the baby was a boy, and the answer was always a yes. No one listened to me when I said it was a girl.
They should have listened, dangit, because I'm always right! (Except when I'm wrong, of course.)
So on December 11th, 19??, my sister put in her appearance. She has a very strong personality, and made that known from the beginning. One of my chores from the time she was a wee thing, besides changing her diapers, was to get her out of her crib in the morning. Once she was old enough to stand and scream, she would move to the far corner of the crib, after first snatching a handful of my long, lustrous dark brown hair near the roots, and scream, "No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!" My arms weren't long enough to reach to said far corner of the crib and remove her, so I would usually try to disentangle my hair from her fingers and hope I wouldn't go deaf before my mother or father would come and rescue me. Why the hell my mother would put me through such hell every morning was beyond me at the time, although it occurred to me much later that my mother didn't really want to go through that hell either, and figured eventually I'd grow another inch or so and manage to get her out of the damned crib myself, which of course I did, and that stage of purgatory ended.
Being eight years and three days older than my sister, I was her (usually) willing and devoted slave. I spoiled her rotten. I remember this one dress that I fell in love with at the store, and persuaded my mother to buy for her. It had a long blue skirt with a ruffle at the hem, and a white bodice with large blue polka dots. She looked so cute in it that it was absolutely revolting. Whenever I had any money, which wasn't nearly often enough, I liked to buy her things.
Things weren't always perfect in paradise, of course. She and I had our spats. It was the worst when we had to share a bedroom, because she was a neat freak and I was an utter slob. So on the not-rare-enough occasions when we'd be sent to clean our room, she'd be livid because she'd have to help clean up my messes even though she wasn't particularly messy. Usually these spats would end up in us screaming at each other, red-faced with anger, until the humor in the situation dawned upon me and I'd start laughing. That would infuriate her even more, upon which she'd start stomping around. I'd laugh some more, and say something taunting like, "Stomp a little louder, why doncha?" She would then make every effort to stomp louder, which made me laugh more, which pissed her off even more. She couldn't understand then why I was laughing. She thought I was laughing at her. What I was really laughing at was the fact that these two girls, who loved each other more than any other people on the earth, were screaming at each other like nobody's business, over something as insignificant as who threw something under the bed (I did) and who had to pick it up (she did) and was it fair (of course not, but I was the biggest and deal with it already). I was a rotten stinker, and I admit that.
I remember coming home from school or a friend's house or somewhere one day, and finding her with a too-innocent look on her makeup smeared face. With good cause I immediately got furious with her for getting into my makeup. She denied it, and cried because I was picking on her for no reason, and finally admitted it, and all was well. She never did figure out how I knew she'd been in my makeup until several years later.
I didn't know that she used to wear my clothes to school. I left for school/work before she did, and got home after she did. But then one year she made the mistake of wearing one of my Hawaiian shirts on school picture day. When her pictures came, she tried to hide them from me. When I finally insisted on getting one, because I love my sister, dangit, there she was, wearing my shirt. I wasn't too mad about that, although I pretended to be. (My Abbey Road tee-shirt, however, is another matter. ;p)
Her nicknames include Lizardbreath and Zard. She was called Betsy from the moment she was born until she got tired of it and managed to convince everyone in the family that they were never to call her Betsy ever again under pain of death. She was very convincing. I call her Liz or Lizzy or Lizardbreath or Lizardy or Zard or Bubelah or Sugar or Sweetie or Honey or Bit-cah.
When she was young--I don't quite remember how old she was, but her figure was about 18-18-18--she used to sing "Bill Bailey," and she could put quite a Mae West-like growl in the song. It was so cute, and she thought she was so hot and sex-ay.
She used to think I had eyes in the back of my head. Well, that's partly my fault, because I told her I did. Well, come on now--don't most mothers/older sisters say that? You see the kids come in from the back yard dripping wet, and you know they've been playing in the water. But they're not quite bright enough yet to realize that the evidence supports that conclusion, so you tell them you have eyes in the back of your head and they believe you. What I didn't know was that she would wait until I was asleep at night, and then try to find my eyes in the back of my head. But she never could. She decided they were invisible eyes, which made her even more impressed with me. Bwah-hah-hah!
There are other stories I could tell about Izzybella, but I won't. Partly because she'd kill me, and partly because you'd have to have been there. And you weren't. Nyah-nyah-nyah. Just know that she's the best sister a girl could have, and the best friend. I consider myself amazingly blessed to have had her companionship on my journey through life. If you get a chance, go by her blog and wish her a happy birthday.
Friday, December 08, 2006
All right, already!
Since Izzybella is so determined to ensure that everyone knows it's my birthday, I'll blog a bit about it.
Yes. It's my birthday. I was born on December 8th, 1963. I'm 20 years old today. The first time I was 20, it was 1983. It wasn't a good year. So I'm going to be 20 again.
I cannot, of course, guarantee that it will be a good year. I can, however, guarantee that it will be different. Interesting.
Isn't that some ancient curse? May you live in interesting times. It could also be a blessing, depending on how one looks at it. May you live in interesting times.
Whenever or wherever I am, things tend to be interesting.
And if you want to see what I looked like in 1979, go check out Liz's blog.
Yes. It's my birthday. I was born on December 8th, 1963. I'm 20 years old today. The first time I was 20, it was 1983. It wasn't a good year. So I'm going to be 20 again.
I cannot, of course, guarantee that it will be a good year. I can, however, guarantee that it will be different. Interesting.
Isn't that some ancient curse? May you live in interesting times. It could also be a blessing, depending on how one looks at it. May you live in interesting times.
Whenever or wherever I am, things tend to be interesting.
And if you want to see what I looked like in 1979, go check out Liz's blog.
Six Weird Things About Me
I got tagged by Izzybella, so here goes. Oh, and for the record, how I'm supposed to limit it to only six is beyond me.
- When I really like a CD, I listen to it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over until everyone else within earshot totally hates it and me and their lives and wishes someone would just put them out of their misery. So it's probably a really good thing that I have a private office at work so that no one has to listen to Trista's Mix over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over because I've been listening to it almost exclusively since she sent it. I love it! What's not to love about it? It's fantastic! My favorite songs on it are Rowing Song by Patty Griffin, Painting by Chagall by The weepies, Gotta Have You by The Weepies, Useless Desires by Patty Griffin, World Spins Madly On by The Weepies, Volcano by Damien Rice, Comfortably Numb by Dar Williams, The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice, It's Only Fear by Alexi Murdoch, The Deep by Clair Holley, and City Hall by Vienna Teng. Oh yes, and Ship Out on the Sea by The Be Good Tanyas. I like that one, too. And all the other songs on the CD. Sometimes I wake up in the morning singing, "Love is a feeling like a warm black stone." That's a bad thing why?
- I argue with people who aren't there. Like this: weird is such a subjective thing. Things that I think are perfectly normal you may think are weird. I mean, I think it's perfectly normal for me to listen to my CDs over and over and over and over and over and over and over, but you might define that as weird. In fact, everything I do is perfectly normal to me, or I wouldn't do it. So I'm going to continue with this completely illogical meme to satisfy my sister who's so totally in trouble for posting a photo of me from 1979.
- I decided that from today on, I'm not adhering to my calendar birthdays. I'm not going to do like my mother-in-law, who chose some years ago to remain 39 for the rest of her life. I am just going to pick certain ages at random. I decided today that I'm going to be 20 this year. Why 20? Why the heck not 20? I didn't particularly enjoy 20 the first time around. It was a rough year. I'm smarter now, and a heck of a lot cuter now. I have better taste in clothing. I have more discretionary income. I have a better job. So I'm going to be 20 this year. Is that weird? I don't think so!
- I sing to my dog every morning, and every evening, and at various moments throughout the day. I sing special Molly songs to her, and she loves it. In the morning she lays on her back and shows me her tummy and gives me kisses while I sing. Sometimes she growls "I love you's" back to me. Because she loves being sung to. Sometimes she shows me her butt so I can give her bootie scratches while I sing to her. Is that weird? Once again, I say no.
- I make up peepee songs when I really have to go to the bathroom really badly and for some reason can't get there. It's usually some variation about how badly I need to pee, and it may or may not rhyme, but I try to make it funny, which seems counterproductive, because one would think that making myself laugh could cause me to lose control. And yet, I do it anyway. I also do the peepee dance, but lots of people do that, so that's not weird even by other people's standards. I also, for some strange reason that's weird even to me, will drink more and more water when I'm stuck in a meeting with a desperately full bladder. I know logically that the more water I drink, the more urgent the need to pee will become. And yet I drink on. I don't know why I do that. And I obviously can't make up a peepee song or do a peepee dance when I'm stuck in a meeting that I can't get out of, so there's no other way to take my mind off my need to go. So yes, I will concede the weirdness of that one. Oh, and one more thing, since I'm on the subject of peeing--I HATE to go to the bathroom. So I put it off as long as possible. I don't get that one either. I'll casually mention to my sister that I need to pee, and she'll call me three hours later and ask if I've gone yet. At least six times out of ten, I haven't. That's weird as well.
- When I'm reading a book set in England, my inner voice has to read it with a British accent. But it makes me read more slowly, which drives me bonkers, because I'm a very fast reader. So then I just give up and read it aloud. Unless it's Harry Potter, in which case my need to swallow the book whole overrides my need for my inner voice to read it with a British accent. I guess that counts as weird, even by my definition.
I don't have anyone to tag, because few people read my blog, and those who have either don't do memes or have already done this one. So here's the deal. If you're reading this, and you don't do memes, do this one--consider yourself tagged. 'K?
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Wounds
Last night I received the most unkindest cut of all.
It's nothing I won't heal from, and the scar won't be visible from the outside. I just wonder that there's any space left on my heart that isn't already covered by scar tissue.
It's nothing I won't heal from, and the scar won't be visible from the outside. I just wonder that there's any space left on my heart that isn't already covered by scar tissue.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Buh-bye, now, NaNoWriMo
Okay. It was a good idea. Write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Just forge through the writing, don't go back and edit, don't worry about research, just get the writing done.
And I did get 9000 words written during the first week of the month. I even wrote every night while I was at WFC. Pretty impressive, eh?
The problem with it, for me, is (a) that' s just not how I work, and (b) the novel I'm working on requires intensive research. I just can't forge through the writing without getting the research done. I have forged through as much as I can right now. I now have to stop and forge through some pretty major research. I get to study Celtic magic, Celtic history and folklore, herbs, and aromatherapy. I get to take extensive notes. I get to figure out who's who. Then I can forge ahead with some more writing.
It has been a good experience. I learned from it. My muse was kind to me. One of my characters emerged full-grown and completely different from how I had expected her to be. I'm madly in love with her (nothing perverted, though), and can't wait to learn more about her. The protagonist has finally developed a mind and a voice of her own, and she's surprised me more than once as well. The book that I am writing bears little resemblance to the book I had planned to write, and I can thank NaNoWriMo for that. So I cannot call this a failed experiment. That said, I cannot wait to dive into Culpeper's Complete Herbal.
And even though you don't know it yet, you can't wait to meet Erea. So far I actually like her better than my protagonist, but I will admit that I know her better.
And I did get 9000 words written during the first week of the month. I even wrote every night while I was at WFC. Pretty impressive, eh?
The problem with it, for me, is (a) that' s just not how I work, and (b) the novel I'm working on requires intensive research. I just can't forge through the writing without getting the research done. I have forged through as much as I can right now. I now have to stop and forge through some pretty major research. I get to study Celtic magic, Celtic history and folklore, herbs, and aromatherapy. I get to take extensive notes. I get to figure out who's who. Then I can forge ahead with some more writing.
It has been a good experience. I learned from it. My muse was kind to me. One of my characters emerged full-grown and completely different from how I had expected her to be. I'm madly in love with her (nothing perverted, though), and can't wait to learn more about her. The protagonist has finally developed a mind and a voice of her own, and she's surprised me more than once as well. The book that I am writing bears little resemblance to the book I had planned to write, and I can thank NaNoWriMo for that. So I cannot call this a failed experiment. That said, I cannot wait to dive into Culpeper's Complete Herbal.
And even though you don't know it yet, you can't wait to meet Erea. So far I actually like her better than my protagonist, but I will admit that I know her better.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Everyone else is doing it.
You.
Can.
Only.
Type.
One.
Word.
No.
Explanations.
Not as easy as you might think...
1. Yourself: goofy
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: musician
3. Your hair: beautiful
4. Your mother/stepmother: enigma
5. Your dog: kissiful
6. Your favorite item: books
7. Your dream last night: vampires
8. Your favorite drink: water
9. Your dream car: sleek
10. The room you are in: office
12. Your fear: nonexistence
13. What you want to be in 10 years: alive
14. Who you hung out with last night: husband
15. What you're not: quitter
16. Muffin: verboten
17: One of your wish list items: boots
18: Time: break
19. The last thing you did: walked
20. What you are wearing: colorful
21. Your favorite weather: breezy
22. Your favorite book: Annwn
23. The last thing you ate: apple
24. Your life: exciting
25. Your mood: anticipatory
26. Your best friend(S): stalwart
27. What are you thinking about right now? life
28. Your car: silver
29. What are you doing at the moment?: typing
30. Your summer: hot
31. Your relationship status: married
32. What is on your TV?: nothing
33. What is the weather like?: glorious
34. When is the last time you laughed?: lunch
Can.
Only.
Type.
One.
Word.
No.
Explanations.
Not as easy as you might think...
1. Yourself: goofy
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: musician
3. Your hair: beautiful
4. Your mother/stepmother: enigma
5. Your dog: kissiful
6. Your favorite item: books
7. Your dream last night: vampires
8. Your favorite drink: water
9. Your dream car: sleek
10. The room you are in: office
12. Your fear: nonexistence
13. What you want to be in 10 years: alive
14. Who you hung out with last night: husband
15. What you're not: quitter
16. Muffin: verboten
17: One of your wish list items: boots
18: Time: break
19. The last thing you did: walked
20. What you are wearing: colorful
21. Your favorite weather: breezy
22. Your favorite book: Annwn
23. The last thing you ate: apple
24. Your life: exciting
25. Your mood: anticipatory
26. Your best friend(S): stalwart
27. What are you thinking about right now? life
28. Your car: silver
29. What are you doing at the moment?: typing
30. Your summer: hot
31. Your relationship status: married
32. What is on your TV?: nothing
33. What is the weather like?: glorious
34. When is the last time you laughed?: lunch
Saturday, November 18, 2006
8.6 Pounds! Squee!
I know I've blathered on about the WW Core program a few times this week. Well, that's because it works. I have felt so fantastic while eating great food and a lot less than I've been in the habit of eating. And my feelings were reinforced at weigh-in this morning. My leader's face reflected her astonishment: her eyes widened, she gasped, and I eagerly jumped up and down and demanded to know how much weight I lost.
8.6 pounds!
I got another 5-pound star, as I have now lost just over 20 pounds. I'm also 7 pounds away from my 10% goal.
It amuses me that every time I've mentioned the core program to someone at work, they immediately say that it's too limiting. I think that's the perception, but it's not the reality. To the contrary, I have found it amazingly freeing. I have had absolutely no cravings for anything unhealthy. I've eaten only the amount of food I need, and it's less than I ate even on the flex plan. It's all been fresh food, nothing processed. Although last night Joe did buy some ready-made mashed potatoes and gravy and put a little bit on my plate. I ate a few bites, and just about gagged at the amount of salt on them.
Sarah and I have been using our morning and afternoon breaks as opportunities to get in some exercise. We have a route mapped out that is about 1/2 mile, and we walk it twice a day no matter the weather.
I am determined to succeed. I know this isn't something that I will do until I hit goal. This is just how I live now until I die. And I like it. I'm going to die slim and healthy and lookin' hot!
8.6 pounds!
I got another 5-pound star, as I have now lost just over 20 pounds. I'm also 7 pounds away from my 10% goal.
It amuses me that every time I've mentioned the core program to someone at work, they immediately say that it's too limiting. I think that's the perception, but it's not the reality. To the contrary, I have found it amazingly freeing. I have had absolutely no cravings for anything unhealthy. I've eaten only the amount of food I need, and it's less than I ate even on the flex plan. It's all been fresh food, nothing processed. Although last night Joe did buy some ready-made mashed potatoes and gravy and put a little bit on my plate. I ate a few bites, and just about gagged at the amount of salt on them.
Sarah and I have been using our morning and afternoon breaks as opportunities to get in some exercise. We have a route mapped out that is about 1/2 mile, and we walk it twice a day no matter the weather.
I am determined to succeed. I know this isn't something that I will do until I hit goal. This is just how I live now until I die. And I like it. I'm going to die slim and healthy and lookin' hot!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Finding our self worth
Yesterday Trista blogged about the realization that she derives her sense of self-worth from what she can do for others (here). It took me back to my own journey.
I'd say it started, gosh, probably 23, 24 years ago. I know I wasn't yet 21. I was living on my own for the first time. Mom was living with Liz and our brother near the coast of Texas with our grandfather. I was up in the DFW area. I worked in Dallas at a job I detested. My favorite uncle and his then-wife, who lived in Houston, decided to go to the Kerrville Folk Festival, and invited us to join them. So I made arrangements to fly to Houston, where my Mom would pick me up at the airport, take me to my uncle's house, and we'd all ride out together with my uncle and aunt. I asked one of my few--very few--friends to take me to the airport and then pick me back up.
We had a good time at the folk festival. I loved the music, loved the freedom, loved camping out. I was a little shocked at a few things my uncle said to me, but hey, he was from a different generation, and had different opinions, so I shrugged them off and didn't let them worry me too much. I wasn't particularly looking forward to going back to work, but all good things must end, so I reluctantly boarded the plane that carried me back to Dallas Love Field.
When I got to the airport in Dallas, my friend wasn't waiting for me anywhere. I waited, patiently at first, and then got more and more worried. I tried calling her, but couldn't reach her. Finally deciding that she had forgotten, I called another friend who lived near me in Fort Worth. She left immediately. About 10 minutes later, the other friend arrived. When I apologetically told her that I'd just called someone else, she was furious with me. She could not believe that I thought so little of her to think that she would forget about me. But that wasn't it at all. It was that I thought so little of myself. She didn't understand that, and I don't think she ever talked to me again, despite my apologies and attempts at explanation.
It didn't sink in, then. I kept going my not-so-merry way. Life was hard. It always has been for me. I missed a lot of the bad experiences I hear about that others had, and I'm grateful. But that doesn't mean it was easy or fun. I was desperately lonely, desperately broke, too ignorant to understand how I could go to college without money or family support, and doing a lot of dead-end jobs that provided no enjoyment or satisfaction. Those years were painful then, and I don't like thinking about them now because they bring nothing but painful memories.
So advance forward 7 or 8 years. I'm in Salt Lake City, living not too far from the University of Utah. A neighbor had promised to pick me up for some activity. He was late. (Are you noticing a theme here?) I decided he wasn't coming. Took my clothes back off. Cried. Got a pounding headache. Then I heard someone knocking at the door. I couldn't answer the door--I wasn't dressed fit to be seen, I looked like a wreck, and I had a raging headache. I just lay there and sobbed, pretending I wasn't home. Bless his heart, he knocked for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and left. I felt like the biggest heel in the world. After I was sure he was gone, I got up and threw on some clothes and went to a pay phone and called my mother and stepfather and told them what had happened. They came over to see me, and my stepfather gave me a blessing. Somehow the realization that I thought of myself as completely worthless sunk in that time.
It took a long time and a lot of hard work to learn to realise that I am of worth because I am. God created me, and he created me just the way I am, imperfections and all. I have learned that it is my very imperfections that have created bonds between me and other people, people whom I truly love and admire. It is the imperfections and quirks that make me unique. I think if God had intended everyone on earth to be alike, he could have rolled out some human dough and used one cookie cutter, popped us all in the oven at one time, cooked us for the same length of time, and then we would all have been just the same.
Since he didn't do that, I think it's probably safe to assume that he loves us as we are. I don't think that gives me a blanket excuse to not try to improve myself, but I can improve myself without losing my individuality.
Anyway, sorry to blather on for so long. I've just been doing a lot of thinking since I read Trista's post yesterday. I remember that icy shock of realization, and then the days of stunned pondering that followed it. I've studied enough psychology to understand what led me to that way of thinking, and I do not see any benefit in delving back into it now. I'd rather press forward, with a perfect brightness of hope, with a love of God and of all men (and women!).
Excelsior!
I'd say it started, gosh, probably 23, 24 years ago. I know I wasn't yet 21. I was living on my own for the first time. Mom was living with Liz and our brother near the coast of Texas with our grandfather. I was up in the DFW area. I worked in Dallas at a job I detested. My favorite uncle and his then-wife, who lived in Houston, decided to go to the Kerrville Folk Festival, and invited us to join them. So I made arrangements to fly to Houston, where my Mom would pick me up at the airport, take me to my uncle's house, and we'd all ride out together with my uncle and aunt. I asked one of my few--very few--friends to take me to the airport and then pick me back up.
We had a good time at the folk festival. I loved the music, loved the freedom, loved camping out. I was a little shocked at a few things my uncle said to me, but hey, he was from a different generation, and had different opinions, so I shrugged them off and didn't let them worry me too much. I wasn't particularly looking forward to going back to work, but all good things must end, so I reluctantly boarded the plane that carried me back to Dallas Love Field.
When I got to the airport in Dallas, my friend wasn't waiting for me anywhere. I waited, patiently at first, and then got more and more worried. I tried calling her, but couldn't reach her. Finally deciding that she had forgotten, I called another friend who lived near me in Fort Worth. She left immediately. About 10 minutes later, the other friend arrived. When I apologetically told her that I'd just called someone else, she was furious with me. She could not believe that I thought so little of her to think that she would forget about me. But that wasn't it at all. It was that I thought so little of myself. She didn't understand that, and I don't think she ever talked to me again, despite my apologies and attempts at explanation.
It didn't sink in, then. I kept going my not-so-merry way. Life was hard. It always has been for me. I missed a lot of the bad experiences I hear about that others had, and I'm grateful. But that doesn't mean it was easy or fun. I was desperately lonely, desperately broke, too ignorant to understand how I could go to college without money or family support, and doing a lot of dead-end jobs that provided no enjoyment or satisfaction. Those years were painful then, and I don't like thinking about them now because they bring nothing but painful memories.
So advance forward 7 or 8 years. I'm in Salt Lake City, living not too far from the University of Utah. A neighbor had promised to pick me up for some activity. He was late. (Are you noticing a theme here?) I decided he wasn't coming. Took my clothes back off. Cried. Got a pounding headache. Then I heard someone knocking at the door. I couldn't answer the door--I wasn't dressed fit to be seen, I looked like a wreck, and I had a raging headache. I just lay there and sobbed, pretending I wasn't home. Bless his heart, he knocked for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and left. I felt like the biggest heel in the world. After I was sure he was gone, I got up and threw on some clothes and went to a pay phone and called my mother and stepfather and told them what had happened. They came over to see me, and my stepfather gave me a blessing. Somehow the realization that I thought of myself as completely worthless sunk in that time.
It took a long time and a lot of hard work to learn to realise that I am of worth because I am. God created me, and he created me just the way I am, imperfections and all. I have learned that it is my very imperfections that have created bonds between me and other people, people whom I truly love and admire. It is the imperfections and quirks that make me unique. I think if God had intended everyone on earth to be alike, he could have rolled out some human dough and used one cookie cutter, popped us all in the oven at one time, cooked us for the same length of time, and then we would all have been just the same.
Since he didn't do that, I think it's probably safe to assume that he loves us as we are. I don't think that gives me a blanket excuse to not try to improve myself, but I can improve myself without losing my individuality.
Anyway, sorry to blather on for so long. I've just been doing a lot of thinking since I read Trista's post yesterday. I remember that icy shock of realization, and then the days of stunned pondering that followed it. I've studied enough psychology to understand what led me to that way of thinking, and I do not see any benefit in delving back into it now. I'd rather press forward, with a perfect brightness of hope, with a love of God and of all men (and women!).
Excelsior!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Embarrassing Moments at Work, Part 694
J. came into my office wanting a retractable badge holder. I looked in the drawer where my keys are usually kept. No keys.
Then I remembered. One of those trips to the bathroom. I had just picked up some office supplies for one of the other managers, and couldn't wait long enough to take the keys back to my office before going to the bathroom. I don't have any pockets. I put the keys in the only available place.
I looked down, and gave J. a panicked look. "Uh, would you mind--"
He took the hint, and looked the other way while I fished the keys out of my cleavage.
I quickly got his retractable badge holder and we both pretended like nothing happened.
Then I remembered. One of those trips to the bathroom. I had just picked up some office supplies for one of the other managers, and couldn't wait long enough to take the keys back to my office before going to the bathroom. I don't have any pockets. I put the keys in the only available place.
I looked down, and gave J. a panicked look. "Uh, would you mind--"
He took the hint, and looked the other way while I fished the keys out of my cleavage.
I quickly got his retractable badge holder and we both pretended like nothing happened.
What's New?
A broken tooth. Well, it's not new. The tooth is slightly younger than I am, and it's been broken for a few weeks. But it's just buggin' the stink out of me! I have a huge fear of dentists, and have had one ever since a dentist extracted a tooth when I was 12 or 13 and I got a horrible infection. That means, as you might have deduced, that I only go to the dentist when something is terribly wrong. That further means that my teeth are a mess. Well, my friends, 2007 is the year! When I go to the dentist next Wednesday (yes, the day before Thanksgiving, which means that I'll successfully avoid the feast at work because my appointment is during lunch), I'll also ask for an estimate on what it will cost to get my teeth fixed. And then I'll put that much money in my healthcare account. That means I'll HAVE to get my teeth fixed, because if I don't, I forfeit the money. And then next January, I'll start going to the dentist/orthodontist/other-various-ontists as required, and maybe by the end of next year I'll have a reasonably decent set of teeth in my mouth, or else a reasonably close facsimile thereof. I joke about getting dentures, but part of me really would like to tell him to just yank 'em out, and give me dentures. The other part of me never wants to be seen without teeth in my mouth. And I do mean never. I was a little dismayed that the earliest appointment I could get was next Wednesday, but didn't see fit to complain. I asked if there is something that I can put in the broken tooth to keep food out, and was told that there is something called Tempbond or Dentemp, available at grocery stores or drugstores. Cool! I looked, but never saw any such thing. I suppose it helps to find it if one actually knows what one is looking for.
Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride Holiday HerbTea. Again, probably not new, but I just bought a box last week at the grocery store. It's by Celestial Seasonings, and has milk thistle, roasted barley, orange peel, natural sugar cookie flavor with other natural flavors and vanilla bean. It's really good for quelling those desires for something hot and sweet in the afternoons. I just brew up a cup (or three, depending on how strong those cravings are), and stir in a little fake sugar, and my tummy is happy.
Painting by Chagall by the Weepies. Again, not new, but new to me, so I get to list it here since I'm making the rules right now. I got Trista's Crazy Mixed-Up CD while I was at the World Fantasy Convention, and I didn't get a chance to listen to it until last Friday. I love it!!!! The whole CD I mean, not just this song. She titled it "Songs You Shouldn't Listen to at 3 AM." Good title, by the way. I really like all the songs on this CD, and there are 3 songs by the Weepies. Have you heard anything by them? No? Well, what are you waiting for? Trista wrote in her liner notes that this song (Painting by Chagall) is the song that hooked her. It's a hooky song. It's the kind that I could just keep hitting the back button over and over and over and over. It's that good.
Yet another boil on my face. At least this one's on my chin. The last few have been on my nose. But still. Ugh. Boils. The last one was horrible!!! See, if I avoid squeezing them, they die faster. But the last one came to a perfectly disgusting pussy head, and I had to squeeze it to avoid grossing people out. So then it scabbed up, and bled a lot for about 4 or 5 days. It is still scabby, but it's a tiny scab now. My skin got so much better when I started Weight Watchers. I think it's getting even with me for my indiscretions that caused the 3.8 pound weight-gain. Damn skin! (Why am I cursing my skin? I should be cursing my indiscretions. If you can call Godiva cheesecake an indiscretion. Personally, I call it bliss.) Well, it's getting virtually no toxins from my food, and I haven't been wearing makeup (except to the concert the other night), so I'm hoping that the boils are about finished erupting. Maybe this one will be the last. [wayne campbell]Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.[/wayne campbell]
Another episode of Veronica Mars tonight. No need to elaborate. Just know that I'll be sitting in front of the television between 8 and 9 p.m. I'll be doing laundry before that, and will go to sleep after that.
I could probably ramble on, but I have to go to the bathroom. And you know how much water I drink, so I can't bold that. It's definitely nothing new.
Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride Holiday HerbTea. Again, probably not new, but I just bought a box last week at the grocery store. It's by Celestial Seasonings, and has milk thistle, roasted barley, orange peel, natural sugar cookie flavor with other natural flavors and vanilla bean. It's really good for quelling those desires for something hot and sweet in the afternoons. I just brew up a cup (or three, depending on how strong those cravings are), and stir in a little fake sugar, and my tummy is happy.
Painting by Chagall by the Weepies. Again, not new, but new to me, so I get to list it here since I'm making the rules right now. I got Trista's Crazy Mixed-Up CD while I was at the World Fantasy Convention, and I didn't get a chance to listen to it until last Friday. I love it!!!! The whole CD I mean, not just this song. She titled it "Songs You Shouldn't Listen to at 3 AM." Good title, by the way. I really like all the songs on this CD, and there are 3 songs by the Weepies. Have you heard anything by them? No? Well, what are you waiting for? Trista wrote in her liner notes that this song (Painting by Chagall) is the song that hooked her. It's a hooky song. It's the kind that I could just keep hitting the back button over and over and over and over. It's that good.
Yet another boil on my face. At least this one's on my chin. The last few have been on my nose. But still. Ugh. Boils. The last one was horrible!!! See, if I avoid squeezing them, they die faster. But the last one came to a perfectly disgusting pussy head, and I had to squeeze it to avoid grossing people out. So then it scabbed up, and bled a lot for about 4 or 5 days. It is still scabby, but it's a tiny scab now. My skin got so much better when I started Weight Watchers. I think it's getting even with me for my indiscretions that caused the 3.8 pound weight-gain. Damn skin! (Why am I cursing my skin? I should be cursing my indiscretions. If you can call Godiva cheesecake an indiscretion. Personally, I call it bliss.) Well, it's getting virtually no toxins from my food, and I haven't been wearing makeup (except to the concert the other night), so I'm hoping that the boils are about finished erupting. Maybe this one will be the last. [wayne campbell]Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.[/wayne campbell]
Another episode of Veronica Mars tonight. No need to elaborate. Just know that I'll be sitting in front of the television between 8 and 9 p.m. I'll be doing laundry before that, and will go to sleep after that.
I could probably ramble on, but I have to go to the bathroom. And you know how much water I drink, so I can't bold that. It's definitely nothing new.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Trista's Sick
Trista's down and out right now with pneumonia. If you get a chance, drop by her blog and leave her some positive thoughts. I know she'll appreciate them.
WW Core Plan
Yep, I made the switch. The last time I seriously considered going on the core plan, I read through the food list, saw that it included no bread or cheese (except fat-free cheese--gross!), saw that I could have either whole-wheat pasta OR potatoes OR brown rice ONLY once a day, and said, basically, screw that.
However, after eating my way through the last two weeks, and a box of Godiva chocolates, and gaining 3.8 pounds in said two weeks, I took another hard look at the core plan. And decided to give it a go. And surprise! I love it!
Here's what I love about it:
I'm not tied to my points calculator/points finder/points list/points whatever. I eat when I'm hungry. When I'm not hungry anymore, I stop eating. That sounds really basic, right? And it is. There have been many days on the flex plan when I got to the end of the day and still had more points to eat to hit my target. So I like not having to worry about that.
No temptation to sluff off my eating plan and go eat out. Why? Because there's not a whole lot that I can eat out, at least not at a fast-food restaurant, which is what I can afford. Or, well, not afford, as the case really is. I'd rather save the money for books and clothes, not spend it on food. Anyway, I can eat vegetables, fruit, lean meat, eggs, fat-free (ugh) cheese, fat-free milk (which I have actually grown to like, so no harm there), certain types of cold cereal only once a day, etc. I can have brown rice or whole wheat pasta or potatoes only once per day, so I have to plan pretty carefully. That means that Chick-Fil-A, for instance, is out. There's nothing I can eat there right now. And that's fine. No McDonald's. Which, again, is fine. It means I'll be sitting in the breakroom at the office reading a really good book and eating some edamame (surprise--I love the stuff!), green beans, bell peppers, whatever, fruit, and soup or whatever leftovers I've brought. Or salad. So basically it means that the money I've been wasting on going out at lunch time can now be wasted on books (which means it's not wasted) or on clothes (which means it's not wasted) or other fun things.
I'm sure that as I proceed through the rest of the week, I'll find more to love. I'm surprised, honestly. I thought it was going to be a more difficult switch. And I know that I can still have a piece of bread if I want one (just have to pull that pesky points calculator out and take the point for the bread out of my 35 weekly points allowance). But honestly, it's easier not to eat it, and with all the legumes I'm eating, trust me, I'm getting plenty of fiber. Or, to use the nickname I've shamelessly ripped off from a Ned's Declassified commercial, let's just call me Fartacus and leave it at that.
Oh, and the fat-free cheese? Well, the Kraft shreds that I got at Target yesterday are acceptable if I'm dying for a little cheese on a salad. Otherwise, they're not that great. I didn't expect them to be. I bought a mild fat-free Mexican at Central Market yesterday, and it tastes much better. Think kind of a Velveeta-ish texture, but not quite so squishy, with very flavorful jalapeno pepper bits in it. Now I'm a fire-breathing Fartacus.
Joe and I are going to the Barenaked Ladies concert tonight. I will look completely adorable in my new shirt (size 18/20--NOT size 24!!!), and I'll put on gobs of eyeliner and mascara. I'll get him to take my picture, so I can post it tomorrow, and you can see how much better I'm looking than I was. But just remember, I still have a dang lot of weight to lose. There's definitely room for improvement.
However, after eating my way through the last two weeks, and a box of Godiva chocolates, and gaining 3.8 pounds in said two weeks, I took another hard look at the core plan. And decided to give it a go. And surprise! I love it!
Here's what I love about it:
I'm not tied to my points calculator/points finder/points list/points whatever. I eat when I'm hungry. When I'm not hungry anymore, I stop eating. That sounds really basic, right? And it is. There have been many days on the flex plan when I got to the end of the day and still had more points to eat to hit my target. So I like not having to worry about that.
No temptation to sluff off my eating plan and go eat out. Why? Because there's not a whole lot that I can eat out, at least not at a fast-food restaurant, which is what I can afford. Or, well, not afford, as the case really is. I'd rather save the money for books and clothes, not spend it on food. Anyway, I can eat vegetables, fruit, lean meat, eggs, fat-free (ugh) cheese, fat-free milk (which I have actually grown to like, so no harm there), certain types of cold cereal only once a day, etc. I can have brown rice or whole wheat pasta or potatoes only once per day, so I have to plan pretty carefully. That means that Chick-Fil-A, for instance, is out. There's nothing I can eat there right now. And that's fine. No McDonald's. Which, again, is fine. It means I'll be sitting in the breakroom at the office reading a really good book and eating some edamame (surprise--I love the stuff!), green beans, bell peppers, whatever, fruit, and soup or whatever leftovers I've brought. Or salad. So basically it means that the money I've been wasting on going out at lunch time can now be wasted on books (which means it's not wasted) or on clothes (which means it's not wasted) or other fun things.
I'm sure that as I proceed through the rest of the week, I'll find more to love. I'm surprised, honestly. I thought it was going to be a more difficult switch. And I know that I can still have a piece of bread if I want one (just have to pull that pesky points calculator out and take the point for the bread out of my 35 weekly points allowance). But honestly, it's easier not to eat it, and with all the legumes I'm eating, trust me, I'm getting plenty of fiber. Or, to use the nickname I've shamelessly ripped off from a Ned's Declassified commercial, let's just call me Fartacus and leave it at that.
Oh, and the fat-free cheese? Well, the Kraft shreds that I got at Target yesterday are acceptable if I'm dying for a little cheese on a salad. Otherwise, they're not that great. I didn't expect them to be. I bought a mild fat-free Mexican at Central Market yesterday, and it tastes much better. Think kind of a Velveeta-ish texture, but not quite so squishy, with very flavorful jalapeno pepper bits in it. Now I'm a fire-breathing Fartacus.
Joe and I are going to the Barenaked Ladies concert tonight. I will look completely adorable in my new shirt (size 18/20--NOT size 24!!!), and I'll put on gobs of eyeliner and mascara. I'll get him to take my picture, so I can post it tomorrow, and you can see how much better I'm looking than I was. But just remember, I still have a dang lot of weight to lose. There's definitely room for improvement.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Happy Anniversary, Baby!
15 Years!
Dang, that's a long time--Sometimes I didn't think we'd make it that long. But here we are.
And guess what: I'd do it all again.
I love you, honey.
Dang, that's a long time--Sometimes I didn't think we'd make it that long. But here we are.
And guess what: I'd do it all again.
I love you, honey.
Voting and Elections--Misc. Thoughts
Yesterday I went and voted after work.
It always amuses me to see the options, at the beginning of the ballot, for a straight ticket. Even in the days when I considered myself Republican, and tended to vote a straight ticket, I still felt it was important for me to vote for each individual candidate.
Those days, of course, are long gone. I voted for Kinky Friedman for governor of Texas. I knew he wouldn't win, and honestly didn't expect him to get many votes at all.
I hoped that of the two major parties, the Democrat candidate would win. I was disappointed that he did not. Yes, Texas is stuck with Rick Perry for another four years. Surely no potential presidential candidate is stupid enough to select him as a running mate.
However, there were some (to me) encouraging results from the gubernatorial election. The independent candidates took approximately 31% of the vote between the two of them. Perry didn't win by as large a margin as he might have desired. It could be argued that a win is a win is a win. I disagree. This shows me that perhaps Texans are getting a little tired of the status quo. Perhaps we're ready to start thinking for ourselves.
Kinky, don't go anywhere. We're going to need you in another 4 years!
It always amuses me to see the options, at the beginning of the ballot, for a straight ticket. Even in the days when I considered myself Republican, and tended to vote a straight ticket, I still felt it was important for me to vote for each individual candidate.
Those days, of course, are long gone. I voted for Kinky Friedman for governor of Texas. I knew he wouldn't win, and honestly didn't expect him to get many votes at all.
I hoped that of the two major parties, the Democrat candidate would win. I was disappointed that he did not. Yes, Texas is stuck with Rick Perry for another four years. Surely no potential presidential candidate is stupid enough to select him as a running mate.
However, there were some (to me) encouraging results from the gubernatorial election. The independent candidates took approximately 31% of the vote between the two of them. Perry didn't win by as large a margin as he might have desired. It could be argued that a win is a win is a win. I disagree. This shows me that perhaps Texans are getting a little tired of the status quo. Perhaps we're ready to start thinking for ourselves.
Kinky, don't go anywhere. We're going to need you in another 4 years!
Monday, November 06, 2006
Some Cool People I Met
Sarah Beth Durst (on the left on the left) is an extremely cool person. Her book Into the Wild, a YA fantasy, is coming out in June 2007. She did a reading from it at the convention, and it sounds like a LOT of fun. She likes the fairy tales, and brings them into the modern world in a uniquely entertaining way.
Clover, Heather, and I ran into her and Tiffany Trent, another YA author, at the Cheesecake Factory. Mmmmm . . . Godiva chocolate cheesecake. Huh? What? Okay, back to Sarah. As I said, extremely cool person. I'm adding a link to her blog on the right, so go check it out.
Tiffany Trent is on the right on the left, and she is also an extremely cool person. Her book Hallowmere is due out in fall 2007, I believe. I'll link to her site as well. I didn't get to spend as much time with Tiffany as I did with Sarah, but I'm definitely looking forward to reading her book when it's released. Oh, and be sure to check out Tiffany's book cover. The model is just beautiful, and looks like the unnatural offspring of Scarlett Johannson and Angelina Jolie. I'm not quite sure how they could manage that, without any y chromosomes, but check her out, and you'll see what I mean.
Oh--and even though I didn't meet them, the other writers in these photos, Jo Whittemore and Deborah Millitello, also have books coming out. Based on the excerpts they read for us, I have added them to my list. (I tried finding a website for Deborah Millitello, but was unsuccessful.)
OTHER COOL PEOPLE I MET BUT DON'T HAVE PHOTOS OF:
Eric Flint--my mother likes him a lot, and he has done quite a lot to progress the e-book movement.
Carole Nelson Douglas--she's a HOOT! She was staying on the same floor we were, so we kept running into her. She reminds me of Eliza Dushku (Faith/the dark Slayer) grown older. She wears awesome high heels, and cool vintage clothes, and has great stories to tell. I picked up one of her books on my way home from Austin, and devoured it in an hour or two (Cat in a Hot Pink Pursuit, in case you're interested, and yes, I recommend it highly. It's a mystery, and it's very entertaining. I came in near the end of this series instead of the beginning, and it appears that she has a huge arc in addition to the smaller book-sized arcs, because there were some mysteries that didn't get solved, so she's got me hooked.) I picked up two more of her books today, one a fantasy and the other a non-Midnight Louie mystery, and I expect to be as highly entertained as I was both by the book I've read so far and by her persona. So go read her, if you haven't yet. You'll thank me.
Elizabeth Moon. I honestly had no clue who she was, but was very amused the night I arrived at the hotel. Clover and Heather met me in the lobby, and as we entered the elevator to go up to the room, so did Elizabeth Moon. Clover said, "You're Elizabeth Moon! And you're in the elevator!" Elizabeth Moon said, rather dryly, that she does ride elevators from time to time. I ran into her (not literally, fortunately) on Saturday morning, and she said that she had just finished her bacon and felt like singing. I never felt like singing after eating my bacon, but hey, I say go for it!
World Fantasy Convention
This may get broken up into several posts, but I'll see what I can do.
THE LOOT:
I was thrilled to find a nice bookbag full of books waiting for me. I was even more thrilled to find the trading table, where people kept taking books they didn't want anymore, and I kept snaring more and more books.
The Black Tattoo - Sam Enthoven
A Princess of Roumania - Paul Park
The First Betrayal - Patricia Bray
Cross Plains Universe: Texans Celebrate Robert E. Howard - Scott A. Cupp & Joe R. Lansdale, eds.
Smoke and Shadows - Tanya Huff
Night Wars - Graham Masterton
The Prodigal Troll - Charles Coleman Finlay
Best Short Novels 2006 - Jonathan Strahan, ed.
George and the Angels - Glenn Meganck
Ancient Fire - Mark London Williams
Thud! - Terry Pratchett
The Mount - Carol Emshwiller
The Vampire Who Loved Me - Teresa Medeiros
Shadow Touch - Marjorie M. Liu
Genetopia - Keith Brooke
The Eyes of God - John Marco
No Present Like Time - Steph Swainston
The Conqueror Worms - Brian Keene
I haven't read any of them yet, although I did start The Black Tattoo. It's a good read, as far as I can tell, but I did only get a few pages into it. I only took one book down to the trading table. It was a horror novel called Pandora Drive by Tim Waggoner. It was well written, but extremely squick-inducing. I don't like anything with child molestation, and there was a child who was being stalked and pursued through a fair amount of the book. Of course, even taking that out of the mix, it was still squicky enough that I don't know that I'd have liked it.
THE HOTEL:
The Renaissance, a Marriott hotel, in Austin. Very nice. The beds in our room were very firm, a little too firm for me to sleep comfortably. But the rooms were nice, and the lobby and meeting rooms were lovely.
I want to post about some cool people I met, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I'll add some pictures, too, if I can figure out how to format them the way I want to!!!!
It's been a long day.
THE LOOT:
I was thrilled to find a nice bookbag full of books waiting for me. I was even more thrilled to find the trading table, where people kept taking books they didn't want anymore, and I kept snaring more and more books.
The Black Tattoo - Sam Enthoven
A Princess of Roumania - Paul Park
The First Betrayal - Patricia Bray
Cross Plains Universe: Texans Celebrate Robert E. Howard - Scott A. Cupp & Joe R. Lansdale, eds.
Smoke and Shadows - Tanya Huff
Night Wars - Graham Masterton
The Prodigal Troll - Charles Coleman Finlay
Best Short Novels 2006 - Jonathan Strahan, ed.
George and the Angels - Glenn Meganck
Ancient Fire - Mark London Williams
Thud! - Terry Pratchett
The Mount - Carol Emshwiller
The Vampire Who Loved Me - Teresa Medeiros
Shadow Touch - Marjorie M. Liu
Genetopia - Keith Brooke
The Eyes of God - John Marco
No Present Like Time - Steph Swainston
The Conqueror Worms - Brian Keene
I haven't read any of them yet, although I did start The Black Tattoo. It's a good read, as far as I can tell, but I did only get a few pages into it. I only took one book down to the trading table. It was a horror novel called Pandora Drive by Tim Waggoner. It was well written, but extremely squick-inducing. I don't like anything with child molestation, and there was a child who was being stalked and pursued through a fair amount of the book. Of course, even taking that out of the mix, it was still squicky enough that I don't know that I'd have liked it.
THE HOTEL:
The Renaissance, a Marriott hotel, in Austin. Very nice. The beds in our room were very firm, a little too firm for me to sleep comfortably. But the rooms were nice, and the lobby and meeting rooms were lovely.
I want to post about some cool people I met, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I'll add some pictures, too, if I can figure out how to format them the way I want to!!!!
It's been a long day.
NaNoWriMo Update
I haven't had a chance yet to assemble everything to do a grand total word count, but I'm between 9,000 and 10,000 words. The novel is going beautifully. I'm amazed that I got as much writing done over the weekend as I did, but the atmosphere was stimulating and my muse was very active.
I don't have time now to do a huge update, but suffice it to say that the World Fantasy Convention was fantabulous. I met some incredible writers, publishers, etc., learned a lot, just had a superlative time. I'll post more and add photos sometime in the next few days.
I don't have time now to do a huge update, but suffice it to say that the World Fantasy Convention was fantabulous. I met some incredible writers, publishers, etc., learned a lot, just had a superlative time. I'll post more and add photos sometime in the next few days.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Isn't it amazing . . .
. . . what a good $65 haircolor can do for you? I didn't even have the time to get a cut last night, but just getting a good haircolor job and a blowout, and I feel (and look) hot and sexy. And when you feel hot and sexy, you are hot and sexy. You carry yourself differently. You have the attitude. If someone pays you a compliment, you don't brush it off as a thing of no consequence. You say thank you, or you strut your stuff and show off for the person. It's fun. I know that my husband can go to the drugstore and get a box of L'oreal for between $7-$10 and color my hair, and do anywhere from a poor to a pretty good job. But I never feel as good after his hair color jobs as I do after I go to the salon and get pampered and spoiled for a few hours, and I never look as good, either. And hey, it's just money, right? Granted that I've got at least 10 different places to put every dollar I just spent on that haircolor job, but I need to look good and I need to feel good.
Of course, I wouldn't have gone last night had Joe not experimented with lightening my hair and really messed it all up. I don't get this obsession he has with taking my hair lighter. My skin tones look creamy when I have darker hair, and when I put some red in it, it looks even better. When I go lighter, I get this horrid washed-out look, and it's nasty. If he wanted a blonde, he should have married someone with different skin tones. But he loves me, so he's stuck! Nyah-nyah!
On other subjects, I have to go to new employee orientation at work this afternoon. Have I mentioned that yet? It's so humorous. I temped here for almost a year before they finally made me permanent. They wanted to hire me long before that, but it took them a long time to get through all the red tape to upgrade the position so they could get me the salary I wanted. So yeah, technically, I'm a new employee. But I've been here over a year now. So it's just funny. It's also really annoying that they scheduled new employee orientation when I'm coping with month-end. But corporate doesn't get our schedule, so I just have to deal with it and move on. It also doesn't help that I'm off tomorrow. That means lots of overtime next week, because I'm going to come back to a huge stack of work on Monday. But it's worth it.
When I get off work, an hour later than usual thanks to orientation, I'm going to dash by the house to see if my winter white damask grannie boots FINALLY arrived from Newport News, and then I'm driving straight to Austin. It's WFC weekend, and I'm very excited. Lots of fun sessions to attend. And last night while I was procrastinating packing, I looked up the hotel online. Wow! Nice hotel! If you're interested, check it out. It's the Marriott Renaissance in Austin. I'm sharing a room with Clover and one of her sisters, so it won't be too expensive.
I will continue to work on my book this weekend, thanks to Liz's kindness in loaning me her laptop. I'll post my progress on Monday. So send happy thoughts my way for a safe journey, and a fun time!
Of course, I wouldn't have gone last night had Joe not experimented with lightening my hair and really messed it all up. I don't get this obsession he has with taking my hair lighter. My skin tones look creamy when I have darker hair, and when I put some red in it, it looks even better. When I go lighter, I get this horrid washed-out look, and it's nasty. If he wanted a blonde, he should have married someone with different skin tones. But he loves me, so he's stuck! Nyah-nyah!
On other subjects, I have to go to new employee orientation at work this afternoon. Have I mentioned that yet? It's so humorous. I temped here for almost a year before they finally made me permanent. They wanted to hire me long before that, but it took them a long time to get through all the red tape to upgrade the position so they could get me the salary I wanted. So yeah, technically, I'm a new employee. But I've been here over a year now. So it's just funny. It's also really annoying that they scheduled new employee orientation when I'm coping with month-end. But corporate doesn't get our schedule, so I just have to deal with it and move on. It also doesn't help that I'm off tomorrow. That means lots of overtime next week, because I'm going to come back to a huge stack of work on Monday. But it's worth it.
When I get off work, an hour later than usual thanks to orientation, I'm going to dash by the house to see if my winter white damask grannie boots FINALLY arrived from Newport News, and then I'm driving straight to Austin. It's WFC weekend, and I'm very excited. Lots of fun sessions to attend. And last night while I was procrastinating packing, I looked up the hotel online. Wow! Nice hotel! If you're interested, check it out. It's the Marriott Renaissance in Austin. I'm sharing a room with Clover and one of her sisters, so it won't be too expensive.
I will continue to work on my book this weekend, thanks to Liz's kindness in loaning me her laptop. I'll post my progress on Monday. So send happy thoughts my way for a safe journey, and a fun time!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
NaNoWriMo Update
Novel Name: Annwn
Genre: Fantasy
Words Written on Day 1: 1725
And we proceed apace!
The hardest thing for me is to just write, and not go back and tweak, tweak, tweak. I think this will be very good for me. I tend to get so hung up on details that I can take forever to do the actual writing. But if I can learn to make myself write, write, write, and THEN go back and tweak, tweak, tweak, I think I can become a lot more productive as a writer.
And I like where I'm taking this a lot better than when I first conceived the notion. In fact, it's barely recognizable from the initial notion. :)
Genre: Fantasy
Words Written on Day 1: 1725
And we proceed apace!
The hardest thing for me is to just write, and not go back and tweak, tweak, tweak. I think this will be very good for me. I tend to get so hung up on details that I can take forever to do the actual writing. But if I can learn to make myself write, write, write, and THEN go back and tweak, tweak, tweak, I think I can become a lot more productive as a writer.
And I like where I'm taking this a lot better than when I first conceived the notion. In fact, it's barely recognizable from the initial notion. :)
Tongue-Twisters and Novels
Yesterday I was reading Plimco's blog and in the comments on one of the posts we got off on the subject of tongue-twisters. I have a love-hate relationship with tongue-twisters. See, my tongue gets twisted very easily. But I love them anyway. In theatre tongue twisters are used for warm-up exercises.
One of my favorites is a naughty one if you say it wrong. I always loved seeing the panicked looks on the faces of freshmen when this one came up: I am a mother-pheasant plucker. I am the most pleasant mother-pheasant plucker that ever plucked a mother-pheasant.
I came across one in A Midsummer Night's Dream, when Bottom is doing his bit in Pyramus and Thisbe: "Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast." I actually had to recite that in my British lit class when we were acting it out, and I managed to get through it bravely.
If, like I, you enjoy tongue-twisters, I herewith present a sampling for your delectation:
A Tudor who tooted a flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to their tutor,
"Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?"
A noisy noise annoys an oyster.
Big bad blood. (Seems simple, but try saying it over and over. Not so simple. Unless your tongue is far more nimble than mine.) Another take on this one is: Good blood, bad blood.
We surely shall see the sun shine soon.
Girl gargoyle, guy gargoyle, gay gargoyle.
Tragedy strategy.
Another naughty one: I'm not the fig plucker, but the fig plucker's son. But I'll pluck figs 'til the fig plucker comes.
Red lorry, yellow lorry
OKAY----enough tongue twisters for now. It's November. NaNoWriMo. I get to write a novel this month! Squee! Ee. Eek. Egad! What have I gotten myself into?!
One of my favorites is a naughty one if you say it wrong. I always loved seeing the panicked looks on the faces of freshmen when this one came up: I am a mother-pheasant plucker. I am the most pleasant mother-pheasant plucker that ever plucked a mother-pheasant.
I came across one in A Midsummer Night's Dream, when Bottom is doing his bit in Pyramus and Thisbe: "Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast." I actually had to recite that in my British lit class when we were acting it out, and I managed to get through it bravely.
If, like I, you enjoy tongue-twisters, I herewith present a sampling for your delectation:
A Tudor who tooted a flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to their tutor,
"Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?"
A noisy noise annoys an oyster.
Big bad blood. (Seems simple, but try saying it over and over. Not so simple. Unless your tongue is far more nimble than mine.) Another take on this one is: Good blood, bad blood.
We surely shall see the sun shine soon.
Girl gargoyle, guy gargoyle, gay gargoyle.
Tragedy strategy.
Another naughty one: I'm not the fig plucker, but the fig plucker's son. But I'll pluck figs 'til the fig plucker comes.
Red lorry, yellow lorry
OKAY----enough tongue twisters for now. It's November. NaNoWriMo. I get to write a novel this month! Squee! Ee. Eek. Egad! What have I gotten myself into?!
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Halloween
I think this is the first time I've gone all out and dressed up for Halloween since I was in elementary school.
A few observations:
The cheap wig? Itchy. Extremely itchy. I'm glad that Liz got me the curved hairpins, even though I was cussing her for it at 4:45 this morning. They're hard to work with, see, especially if you have very short fingernails. But judging by how my head feels right now, I'm glad they're curved. I imagine my head would be feeling much worse if I had straight hairpins. The pantyhose on top of the hairpinned hair is uncomfortable. And the combination of the cheap wig, the pantyhose, and the hairpinned hair makes for a real unpleasant itch.
The greasepaint? Well, greasy, as I should have figured, and I get an itch every now and then. The cool thing is that when I scratch it, I just blend a little and it covers everything back up. I've got these cool violet splotches on the sides of my face that look really disgusting. Whenever anyone looks at me and says how cute I am, I laugh and say that Joe refused to kiss me this morning because I looked too dang ugly.
The dress? Pretty, but really hard to go to the bathroom in. I have to hitch up the skirt, tuck in the dangling ribbons of the corset, hitch up the sleeves, etc., and wiping is a real challenge. It's doable, but challenging.
I really like my black fingernail polish. It looks cool. I'm going to keep wearing it, and not just at Halloween.
I had thought of perhaps staying dressed up while I pass candy out to the kiddos tonight. Ha! And again I say, Ha! No, I shall be leaving the office at 4:00. As one of my co-workers says, I'll head out of here so fast you'd think my butt's on fire. And I'll drive home as fast I can possibly drive, given the traffic situation. And as soon as the door is decently shut behind me, I will be stripping off this costume, ripping off the wig, madly pulling hairpins out of my hair on the way to the bathroom, and hopping into the shower to wash the greasepaint off of my face and to rid my hair of the stench that my sister has promised me I will find once I remove the wig, the pantyhose, and the hairpins.
And then I will put on a sloppy pair of stained blue jeans that are two sizes smaller than I was wearing three months ago, and my big Grumpy sweatshirt, put on a scary movie (until Veronica Mars comes on at 8:00 Central), and pass out candy to the kiddos. And eat some, too, because that's what Halloween is all about, right?
Boo!
A few observations:
The cheap wig? Itchy. Extremely itchy. I'm glad that Liz got me the curved hairpins, even though I was cussing her for it at 4:45 this morning. They're hard to work with, see, especially if you have very short fingernails. But judging by how my head feels right now, I'm glad they're curved. I imagine my head would be feeling much worse if I had straight hairpins. The pantyhose on top of the hairpinned hair is uncomfortable. And the combination of the cheap wig, the pantyhose, and the hairpinned hair makes for a real unpleasant itch.
The greasepaint? Well, greasy, as I should have figured, and I get an itch every now and then. The cool thing is that when I scratch it, I just blend a little and it covers everything back up. I've got these cool violet splotches on the sides of my face that look really disgusting. Whenever anyone looks at me and says how cute I am, I laugh and say that Joe refused to kiss me this morning because I looked too dang ugly.
The dress? Pretty, but really hard to go to the bathroom in. I have to hitch up the skirt, tuck in the dangling ribbons of the corset, hitch up the sleeves, etc., and wiping is a real challenge. It's doable, but challenging.
I really like my black fingernail polish. It looks cool. I'm going to keep wearing it, and not just at Halloween.
I had thought of perhaps staying dressed up while I pass candy out to the kiddos tonight. Ha! And again I say, Ha! No, I shall be leaving the office at 4:00. As one of my co-workers says, I'll head out of here so fast you'd think my butt's on fire. And I'll drive home as fast I can possibly drive, given the traffic situation. And as soon as the door is decently shut behind me, I will be stripping off this costume, ripping off the wig, madly pulling hairpins out of my hair on the way to the bathroom, and hopping into the shower to wash the greasepaint off of my face and to rid my hair of the stench that my sister has promised me I will find once I remove the wig, the pantyhose, and the hairpins.
And then I will put on a sloppy pair of stained blue jeans that are two sizes smaller than I was wearing three months ago, and my big Grumpy sweatshirt, put on a scary movie (until Veronica Mars comes on at 8:00 Central), and pass out candy to the kiddos. And eat some, too, because that's what Halloween is all about, right?
Boo!
Monday, October 30, 2006
In defense of my silliness...
"Mix a little foolishness with your prudence: It's good to be silly at the right moment." --Horace
Splish! Splash!
Do you know why babies splash in the bathtub? Because it's fun!!!
Do you know why I know that? Because I did it yesterday!!!
Every now and then I get really, really, really silly. Yesterday afternoon I was taking a long relaxing soak in the tub, and for some reason thought about how babies like to slap the water with their hands. And so I did it. And it was fun. So I just sat there and slapped the water with my hands and splashed. And it was really, really fun. And then I sang the rubber duckie song and wished I had a rubber duckie to play with.
Man, if I could just be a kid again, for a little while. Play with toys, play in the bathtub, and no one thinks you're strange.
Do you know why I know that? Because I did it yesterday!!!
Every now and then I get really, really, really silly. Yesterday afternoon I was taking a long relaxing soak in the tub, and for some reason thought about how babies like to slap the water with their hands. And so I did it. And it was fun. So I just sat there and slapped the water with my hands and splashed. And it was really, really fun. And then I sang the rubber duckie song and wished I had a rubber duckie to play with.
Man, if I could just be a kid again, for a little while. Play with toys, play in the bathtub, and no one thinks you're strange.
The Blind Date
This is for the S-Project. As always, comments/criticism are welcome. I have no idea, of course, what was really going on in his head. For what was going on in my head, I was living in a city where I knew NO ONE. I was lonely, answered a personals ad. Regretted it. Yes, I was heavy. My teeth are crooked. His teeth were FURRY. I'm sure he was a perfectly nice guy and I was a shallow bitch. But I'm really happy with my husband; we've been married for about a week shy of 15 years; so I'm really glad that I was a shallow bitch when I had my one date with this poor guy here. And I hope that he's happily married and has as many kids as he wanted and has a beautiful wonderful life. (And I didn't mind that he wasn't Kevin Costner. His teeth just really squicked me out. I don't mind crooked or yellow teeth. I mind furry teeth.)
*****
My mother talked me into it. "You've got to meet a nice girl," she said. "You don't get out enough," she said. "A nice boy like you should get married, have children," she said.
So I placed the ad. "SWM, IBM Engineer, ISO SWF, intelligent, fun-loving." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't exactly ask for a supermodel. I wasn't blind. The mirror told me the facts. I knew that I didn't exactly look like Kevin Costner or whoever the girls were drooling over.
I got a few letters, emphasis on the word "few." And of those few, only one really stood out. All the words were spelled correctly; she obviously had a sense of humor. I decided to call her.
She sounded nice on the phone. She didn't have one of those hideous, grating laughs that I couldn't stand. She admitted that she was a little heavy, but I didn't mind that. We decided to meet at the mall, and go see a movie or something, and play it by ear.
I was so nervous that day. I made mistake after mistake at work, and finally gave up and cut out early. I took a shower, shaved, and in my nervousness spilled half the bottle down my shirt. I had to take another shower, but I still just reeked of the stuff. I was about 10 minutes late because of the extra shower. I stunk. I was so nervous that I was sweating. Way to make a good impression, dork!
She was waiting where she said she would be. I could tell that she was worried I'd stood her up. She looked a little nervous, a little antsy. She looked pretty. She was heavy, like she said, but not grotesque or anything. She had dark brown hair, a pretty smile. Her teeth were crooked. She was wearing a dark red shirt and black pants. When I came up and said her name hesitantly, she looked blankly at me for a moment, and then smiled at me.
We went to see some movie she suggested. I thought it was going to be a chick flick, some dancing movie, but it was actually pretty good. It turned into an adventure movie, these people escaping from the Soviet Union. "White Nights," I think it was called.
After the movie was over, we sat around and talked for a while. I really enjoyed her company. She was funny and smart. I like her, I thought. I was already thinking about some fun things we could do together. I walked her out to her car, but as we got closer to her car, she started getting skittish. She practically ran the last fifteen feet, calling her good-byes hastily behind her.
Weird. I put it behind me and went on home, whistling. Maybe she hadn't noticed the overdose of aftershave.
I waited two or three days, then called to see if she wanted to get together the next Friday night. She was busy, she said regretfully. Okay, then, how about Saturday? Well, she was busy then, too. Okay, um, next weekend, maybe? Well, no, she was busy then, too.
I'm a little slow on the uptake, okay? So I guess it's not entirely her fault. I guess I pushed her into it. How about the week after that? No, she was busy then, too, in fact, she was really sorry, but she was going to be pretty busy for the forseeable future.
I hung up the phone, a little stunned. We'd had such a good time, I thought. Bitch!
*****
My mother talked me into it. "You've got to meet a nice girl," she said. "You don't get out enough," she said. "A nice boy like you should get married, have children," she said.
So I placed the ad. "SWM, IBM Engineer, ISO SWF, intelligent, fun-loving." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't exactly ask for a supermodel. I wasn't blind. The mirror told me the facts. I knew that I didn't exactly look like Kevin Costner or whoever the girls were drooling over.
I got a few letters, emphasis on the word "few." And of those few, only one really stood out. All the words were spelled correctly; she obviously had a sense of humor. I decided to call her.
She sounded nice on the phone. She didn't have one of those hideous, grating laughs that I couldn't stand. She admitted that she was a little heavy, but I didn't mind that. We decided to meet at the mall, and go see a movie or something, and play it by ear.
I was so nervous that day. I made mistake after mistake at work, and finally gave up and cut out early. I took a shower, shaved, and in my nervousness spilled half the bottle down my shirt. I had to take another shower, but I still just reeked of the stuff. I was about 10 minutes late because of the extra shower. I stunk. I was so nervous that I was sweating. Way to make a good impression, dork!
She was waiting where she said she would be. I could tell that she was worried I'd stood her up. She looked a little nervous, a little antsy. She looked pretty. She was heavy, like she said, but not grotesque or anything. She had dark brown hair, a pretty smile. Her teeth were crooked. She was wearing a dark red shirt and black pants. When I came up and said her name hesitantly, she looked blankly at me for a moment, and then smiled at me.
We went to see some movie she suggested. I thought it was going to be a chick flick, some dancing movie, but it was actually pretty good. It turned into an adventure movie, these people escaping from the Soviet Union. "White Nights," I think it was called.
After the movie was over, we sat around and talked for a while. I really enjoyed her company. She was funny and smart. I like her, I thought. I was already thinking about some fun things we could do together. I walked her out to her car, but as we got closer to her car, she started getting skittish. She practically ran the last fifteen feet, calling her good-byes hastily behind her.
Weird. I put it behind me and went on home, whistling. Maybe she hadn't noticed the overdose of aftershave.
I waited two or three days, then called to see if she wanted to get together the next Friday night. She was busy, she said regretfully. Okay, then, how about Saturday? Well, she was busy then, too. Okay, um, next weekend, maybe? Well, no, she was busy then, too.
I'm a little slow on the uptake, okay? So I guess it's not entirely her fault. I guess I pushed her into it. How about the week after that? No, she was busy then, too, in fact, she was really sorry, but she was going to be pretty busy for the forseeable future.
I hung up the phone, a little stunned. We'd had such a good time, I thought. Bitch!
Friday, October 27, 2006
Happy Anniversary, Baby!
I love ya so much, I'm givin' you barenaked ladies to look at, for one whole evening!
It struck us both as funny. Our 15th wedding anniversary is on 11/8. On 11/12, the Barenaked Ladies will be at Will Rogers in concert, so we just forked out a tidy little sum of money for a pair of tickets. As we were attempting to justify the cost (he said it was part of our Christmas present to each other, but then I hit on the happy justification of our anniversary), we both cracked up at the thought of giving each other barenaked ladies for our anniversary.
Guess you had to be there, huh?
It struck us both as funny. Our 15th wedding anniversary is on 11/8. On 11/12, the Barenaked Ladies will be at Will Rogers in concert, so we just forked out a tidy little sum of money for a pair of tickets. As we were attempting to justify the cost (he said it was part of our Christmas present to each other, but then I hit on the happy justification of our anniversary), we both cracked up at the thought of giving each other barenaked ladies for our anniversary.
Guess you had to be there, huh?
I coined a new word: blupdate. It's so much faster to e-mail your sister and say, "I blupdated," than it is to e-mail your sister and say, "I updated my blog." Well, I guess it's not that much faster, but it works for me. Of course, maybe it's been used by billions of bloggers around the world, and I'm once again totally slow on the uptake. Or else perhaps it's been considered and rejected by billions of bloggers, which makes me not only totally slow on the uptake, but totally lame as well. Yay! I'm lame! Woohoo!
Joe said he loves it when I say Woohoo! So I'll say it again. Woohoo! He's not here to hear it, and I'm not really saying it, but it's fun to type. Woohoo! Woohoo! It's Friday!
It's nearly the end of October, which means I only get to look at the picture of Jason and Medea for a few more days. That makes me sad. Medea, as portrayed in this painting, looks like a surly teenager mixing a magical concoction with an air of self-importance. Jason is sitting watching her, barely able to sit still; his muscles are all tensed; he's ready to spring into action as soon as her charm or spell is prepared. His interest seems to lie not in her, but in what she can do for him. His eyes are fixed not on her face or her figure, but on the goblet in her hands. She knows it, and so she is dragging it out as long as possible, hoping that she can impel his interest to her. I have really enjoyed my Pre-Raphaelite calendar this year! Shall I take a sneak peek ahead to see what I get to look at during November? I shall: It's a far less fascinating portrait of Saint Cecelia being serenaded by two angels. I'd rather look at Jason and Medea for another month. Who is Saint Cecelia anyway? I guess it's Google time again.
I'm not sure why I'm so thrilled about its being Friday. I actually have to work an extra two hours today, to make up for having had two doctor appointments this week (one follow-up with the neurologist--everything's fine, see him again in 3 months--and one quick visit to the regular doctor about the sore throat--it's allergies, I have a prescription for an antibiotic in case it turns into an infection). And I have to work four hours tomorrow as part of making up in advance for being off next Friday. But it's worth it, since I'll be going to the Fantasy Convention in Austin.
I'm really looking forward to the convention. The last time I checked the preliminary programming schedule, the majority of the sessions I want to attend actually are taking place on Friday. If I had to choose to miss either Friday or Saturday, I'd have chosen to miss Saturday. I had planned to skip the banquet. Who wants to pay $50 for a dinner? Not I. And I'm still not familiar enough with the world of fantasy that I don't know anything about the award nominees. But my best friend Clover called and said that she and her sister want to go to the banquet and she doesn't want me to miss it. She asked if I would let her buy my ticket to the banquet. I swallowed my pride and said yes. How incredibly amazing is that of her???? With everything that she's got to deal with, she wants to do that for me! I don't know Clover's sister yet, but I'm sure that with the 3 of us sharing a hotel room, we'll get to know each other pretty doggone quickly. And if she's even .001 as cool as Clover, she'll be pretty great.
Work proceeds apace on the preparation for NaNoWriMo. The-character-formerly-known-as-Verity is no longer named Verity, but she is refusing to tell me her name. I've been poring over lists of Celtic, Middle English, and Anglo-Saxon names, and haven't found just the right name yet. I wish she wouldn't be so doggone stubborn about this, but my characters tend to be stubborn. I guess they take after their creator in that respect. I did find a phrase yesterday that might work, and it's one I can actually see her mother saddling her with, but I'm not quite sure yet. We'll see. Now I'm trying to figure out if my Big Bad is redeemable or not. He hasn't told me yet. He definitely has some noble qualities, and is not doing evil for the sake of doing evil. But I don't know yet whether he can be brought to a marriage of true minds, or whether the impediment will remain. I want to have at least a reasonable idea of how this story will play out before I start writing.
Today at work there's a pumpkin carving/decorating contest. I have fantastic ideas. But when it comes to actual execution, I pretty much suck. I went to the Wall2Wall Mart last night, and got a foam pumpkin (I didn't feel like dealing with the mess of a real pumpkin), some Halloween-themed finger puppets, and some crepe paper streamers. When I got back home, I covered a cookie sheet with foil, and then put some styrofoam on top of the foil and covered it with black crepe paper streamers. I drew a door and some crescent moon-shaped windows on the pumpkin, and wrote "Trick or Treat" over the door. And I taped the pumpkin onto the crepe paper-covered styrofoam. Then I got some sticks from the back yard that still had some dead leaves clinging onto them, and stuck them into the styrofoam, and strung some of that fake spider web stuff across them. And I put toothpicks into the styrofoam and put the finger puppets on top of those, to be kids trick-or-treating. It's really cute, in an extremely lame sort of way. If I had my camera, I'd take a picture. But I don't. So just imagine it. Cute, but lame. I haven't seen any of the competition--my pumpkin was the only one up there when I took it over to the judging table--but we have some really creative people here. I'm not expecting to win a prize. I'm just saying.
The Weight Loss gods must love Liz and me. See, she works in Arlington and I work in Bedford. We like to meet for lunch once or twice a month, but the only places that are right in the middle are a fantastic hamburger place called Al's (really, really great food, but not so good for the diet), a Chinese buffet (I like Chinese, but the buffets around here stink), Wendy's, and a southern cooking place (Southern cooking, good, but not for the diet). But just last week a Subway opened up in the same strip center that Al's is in. So today we're going to meet at Subway for lunch. I'm happy about that. Decent food, not too expensive, and it fits in with the plan. Tomorrow's weigh-in. It's been a difficult week, because I've been feeling cruddy with this sore throat/allergy stuff, and haven't been doing well eating-wise. So I'm expecting either no loss or a slight gain, which is cool. It's a process. I have to keep reminding myself of that. It's a process that will take time, but if I just keep plugging away, I'll get where I want to be!
Joe said he loves it when I say Woohoo! So I'll say it again. Woohoo! He's not here to hear it, and I'm not really saying it, but it's fun to type. Woohoo! Woohoo! It's Friday!
It's nearly the end of October, which means I only get to look at the picture of Jason and Medea for a few more days. That makes me sad. Medea, as portrayed in this painting, looks like a surly teenager mixing a magical concoction with an air of self-importance. Jason is sitting watching her, barely able to sit still; his muscles are all tensed; he's ready to spring into action as soon as her charm or spell is prepared. His interest seems to lie not in her, but in what she can do for him. His eyes are fixed not on her face or her figure, but on the goblet in her hands. She knows it, and so she is dragging it out as long as possible, hoping that she can impel his interest to her. I have really enjoyed my Pre-Raphaelite calendar this year! Shall I take a sneak peek ahead to see what I get to look at during November? I shall: It's a far less fascinating portrait of Saint Cecelia being serenaded by two angels. I'd rather look at Jason and Medea for another month. Who is Saint Cecelia anyway? I guess it's Google time again.
I'm not sure why I'm so thrilled about its being Friday. I actually have to work an extra two hours today, to make up for having had two doctor appointments this week (one follow-up with the neurologist--everything's fine, see him again in 3 months--and one quick visit to the regular doctor about the sore throat--it's allergies, I have a prescription for an antibiotic in case it turns into an infection). And I have to work four hours tomorrow as part of making up in advance for being off next Friday. But it's worth it, since I'll be going to the Fantasy Convention in Austin.
I'm really looking forward to the convention. The last time I checked the preliminary programming schedule, the majority of the sessions I want to attend actually are taking place on Friday. If I had to choose to miss either Friday or Saturday, I'd have chosen to miss Saturday. I had planned to skip the banquet. Who wants to pay $50 for a dinner? Not I. And I'm still not familiar enough with the world of fantasy that I don't know anything about the award nominees. But my best friend Clover called and said that she and her sister want to go to the banquet and she doesn't want me to miss it. She asked if I would let her buy my ticket to the banquet. I swallowed my pride and said yes. How incredibly amazing is that of her???? With everything that she's got to deal with, she wants to do that for me! I don't know Clover's sister yet, but I'm sure that with the 3 of us sharing a hotel room, we'll get to know each other pretty doggone quickly. And if she's even .001 as cool as Clover, she'll be pretty great.
Work proceeds apace on the preparation for NaNoWriMo. The-character-formerly-known-as-Verity is no longer named Verity, but she is refusing to tell me her name. I've been poring over lists of Celtic, Middle English, and Anglo-Saxon names, and haven't found just the right name yet. I wish she wouldn't be so doggone stubborn about this, but my characters tend to be stubborn. I guess they take after their creator in that respect. I did find a phrase yesterday that might work, and it's one I can actually see her mother saddling her with, but I'm not quite sure yet. We'll see. Now I'm trying to figure out if my Big Bad is redeemable or not. He hasn't told me yet. He definitely has some noble qualities, and is not doing evil for the sake of doing evil. But I don't know yet whether he can be brought to a marriage of true minds, or whether the impediment will remain. I want to have at least a reasonable idea of how this story will play out before I start writing.
Today at work there's a pumpkin carving/decorating contest. I have fantastic ideas. But when it comes to actual execution, I pretty much suck. I went to the Wall2Wall Mart last night, and got a foam pumpkin (I didn't feel like dealing with the mess of a real pumpkin), some Halloween-themed finger puppets, and some crepe paper streamers. When I got back home, I covered a cookie sheet with foil, and then put some styrofoam on top of the foil and covered it with black crepe paper streamers. I drew a door and some crescent moon-shaped windows on the pumpkin, and wrote "Trick or Treat" over the door. And I taped the pumpkin onto the crepe paper-covered styrofoam. Then I got some sticks from the back yard that still had some dead leaves clinging onto them, and stuck them into the styrofoam, and strung some of that fake spider web stuff across them. And I put toothpicks into the styrofoam and put the finger puppets on top of those, to be kids trick-or-treating. It's really cute, in an extremely lame sort of way. If I had my camera, I'd take a picture. But I don't. So just imagine it. Cute, but lame. I haven't seen any of the competition--my pumpkin was the only one up there when I took it over to the judging table--but we have some really creative people here. I'm not expecting to win a prize. I'm just saying.
The Weight Loss gods must love Liz and me. See, she works in Arlington and I work in Bedford. We like to meet for lunch once or twice a month, but the only places that are right in the middle are a fantastic hamburger place called Al's (really, really great food, but not so good for the diet), a Chinese buffet (I like Chinese, but the buffets around here stink), Wendy's, and a southern cooking place (Southern cooking, good, but not for the diet). But just last week a Subway opened up in the same strip center that Al's is in. So today we're going to meet at Subway for lunch. I'm happy about that. Decent food, not too expensive, and it fits in with the plan. Tomorrow's weigh-in. It's been a difficult week, because I've been feeling cruddy with this sore throat/allergy stuff, and haven't been doing well eating-wise. So I'm expecting either no loss or a slight gain, which is cool. It's a process. I have to keep reminding myself of that. It's a process that will take time, but if I just keep plugging away, I'll get where I want to be!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Help!
Can someone who is more html-savvy than I help me with this? I changed templates because I really didn't like my old one. I need to know how to change the color of my titles from this diarrhea-yellow color to something a little more attractive. I also need to know how to move my sidebar from the bottom of the page up to the top.
It would also be nice to figure out how to put my avatar and my blinkies on, but it's not strictly necessary.
If some kind reader could come to my rescue, I'd be eternally grateful. That gratitude could come in the form of cookies, Godiva, books, whatever. Um, I hasten to add, within reason. Let me know. Bless you.
It would also be nice to figure out how to put my avatar and my blinkies on, but it's not strictly necessary.
If some kind reader could come to my rescue, I'd be eternally grateful. That gratitude could come in the form of cookies, Godiva, books, whatever. Um, I hasten to add, within reason. Let me know. Bless you.
Music! Music! Music!
I love music. One of the great things about getting rid of the headaches is that I've been able to listen to music again. I have CDs playing all day at work again. I have the radio or a CD playing in my car all the time again. I have truly missed my music.
I also love discovering new songs. Well, new to me, anyway. They're probably not new to anyone else. I'd say, "Hey, I just heard this great new song! "Political Science," by Randy Newman." And they'd say, "That old thing? It's been around forever." And it has. Apparently I'm the only one out there who never heard it before. So I don't get out much, and I'm woefully lame. So sue me. (Actually, don't bother. I'm not worth the time and expense of suing. I'm just saying.)
The point is, what other fantastic songs have I missed out on? My husband thinks I'm like the music queen of the world because he hasn't heard of a lot of the stuff that's in our iTunes library. I hate to tell him how sheltered I truly am, despite the hundreds of CDs we own.
It's thanks to my sister (I love you, Zard!) that I found the Dandy Warhols and Poe. How banal my life would be if I didn't get to listen to such great songs as “Nietzsche,” “Godless,” and “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandies, or “Haunted,” “Hey Pretty,” or “Not a Virgin” by Poe.
Each time I get a new CD from Crazy Mixed-Up, I listen to it obsessively, picking out the songs that I just have to add to my new list of favorites. And I wonder how I managed to miss those songs before. That's how I found "One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces", which has been around since 1997. And I just met it several weeks ago!
Okay. So I’m begging you—list some of your favorite songs. Tell me who performs them, what feelings they evoke in you, why you like them, whatever you think I should know about them. Give me something to seek out. Expand my horizons. Get me out of this sheltered little isolation chamber I seem to be living in, music-wise.
What will you get out of it? Karma, baby. Sweet, sweet, musical karma.
I also love discovering new songs. Well, new to me, anyway. They're probably not new to anyone else. I'd say, "Hey, I just heard this great new song! "Political Science," by Randy Newman." And they'd say, "That old thing? It's been around forever." And it has. Apparently I'm the only one out there who never heard it before. So I don't get out much, and I'm woefully lame. So sue me. (Actually, don't bother. I'm not worth the time and expense of suing. I'm just saying.)
The point is, what other fantastic songs have I missed out on? My husband thinks I'm like the music queen of the world because he hasn't heard of a lot of the stuff that's in our iTunes library. I hate to tell him how sheltered I truly am, despite the hundreds of CDs we own.
It's thanks to my sister (I love you, Zard!) that I found the Dandy Warhols and Poe. How banal my life would be if I didn't get to listen to such great songs as “Nietzsche,” “Godless,” and “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandies, or “Haunted,” “Hey Pretty,” or “Not a Virgin” by Poe.
Each time I get a new CD from Crazy Mixed-Up, I listen to it obsessively, picking out the songs that I just have to add to my new list of favorites. And I wonder how I managed to miss those songs before. That's how I found "One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces", which has been around since 1997. And I just met it several weeks ago!
Okay. So I’m begging you—list some of your favorite songs. Tell me who performs them, what feelings they evoke in you, why you like them, whatever you think I should know about them. Give me something to seek out. Expand my horizons. Get me out of this sheltered little isolation chamber I seem to be living in, music-wise.
What will you get out of it? Karma, baby. Sweet, sweet, musical karma.
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