Pop Culture Librarian

Hamma Jamma

2012-01-24T16:12:00.000-08:00

Things that are making me happy today:

1. The Pointer Sisters medley that was sung, by all members of my household, at 6:45 am this morning.

2. The fact that Brandy and Monica are coming out with a new duet, although it will never be able to top the sweet action of "The Boy is Mine."

3. A friend telling me about a person he once knew. First name Richard, last name Shaver. And he preferred to go by Dick.

4. The relief I felt when I realized that the red substance all over the inside of my bag was just juice from the swiss chard in my lunch and not bloody gore.

5. Biogirl's vintage cookbook that is filled with disgusting photos, including this one for baked ham covered in green jello mixed with mayonnaise.

First, a photo of the ham. Second, a video of the jam.

Occupie This

2012-01-23T10:29:00.000-08:00

The snow has melted off faster than it got here, and the weekend was covered in a mud-flavored Slush Puppie. Are Slush Puppies still a thing? I have fond memories of getting one of those (cherry flavored, not mud) with a pack of grape Now and Laters at the Kmart cafeteria when I was a kid. Oh yes, our Kmart had a cafeteria. Class out the ass, people.

Crisp new snow for a couple of days had us running around outside like nutcases, but the slushy mess had us sticking close to home for most of the weekend, other than a trip to work for me. And then, oh yeah, we also went to this party where there was nothing to eat but miles of pie.

For those of you who may not know, today is National Pie Day. (To which, the obvious reply is: isn't every day National Pie Day? And yes, you may have a point there). In its honor, Biogirl threw a party whereby she served pie and more pie. And also, asked guests to bring pie. Is this not the most genius party idea ever conceived? Methinks it is.

Our friend Heather has a little girl who is 4. Throughout her young life, we have gone to their house on a myriad of days. Sometimes just to hang out, sometimes for a meal, sometimes for a party. She, on the other hand, has only been to Biogirl's house when there has been some sort of party going on. And so in her eyes, Biogirl's house is the Land of a Thousand Vittles. Biogirl's parties always have a nice spread happening, so to a 4 year old? Yummy goodness as FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE. And since she hasn't seen Biogirl's house in its non-party state, I think that perhaps in her mind, she is all "I don't know what is UP with that crazy lady's house full of food everywhere you look, but I'm LIKIN' IT." This time, when it was all pies? I am sure it took the magic to a whole new level.

I think maybe I am transferring my wonder at the pie party concept onto a 4 year old. Probably.

Anyway, there was mushroom quiche, and spinach quiche, and sweet fruit pies, and samosa pies, and pizza pies, and pumpkin pie, and tomato pie, and pot pies...well. You get the picture. In case you don't get the picture, here are some pictures.

And also the people were nice and the conversation good and the laughs were plentiful. Yadda yadda. PIE.

(Ok, I feel the need to explain that last one. Biogirl's dad once had a painter paint a portrait of her when she was little. It is universally acknowledged that the result is creepy. In fact, I don't think the creepy nature of the portrait quite comes through here. Anyway, most of the time the portrait lives in storage. But when Biogirl throws a party, the portrait comes out, usually with something to say. I love that portrait).

Consumables #57

2012-01-20T15:55:00.000-08:00

During this week, also known as Dysnowpia 2012 Seattle, many folks are feeling cabin fever. I am hoping that your cabin fever has to do with having your kids home from school and maybe a lack of being able to drive to the store, and does not have anything to do with a for reals blizzard out there or someone busting your kneecaps Misery-style. For some reason when I hear "cabin fever" I always think about Pa Ingalls having to tie a string from his front door to his barn so that he can hang on to it and not get lost in the snow storm, or Kathy Bates and James Caan. I don't know why. I'm just saying, I hope that if you have cabin fever, it is normal people usage of that term, and not me-usage.

For all the cabin-fever-or-not that has been happening this week, I have been light on the consuming, but here's what I've got.

Movies:
Beginners
I thought this was so sweet. Ewan McGregor could not be more charming, and Christopher Plummer was delightful and their relationship just made my heart feel all squeezy. It made me cry a bit.

The Recruit
Sometimes if Nordic Boy is waiting for something- like for me to get ready, or for a friend to come pick him up- he will flip the tv on and find a movie and watch it, just for the ten-fifteen minutes he has to wait. Earlier this week, The Recruit was on tv, so he watched a bit from the latter half of the movie. A day or so later, he was waiting again, and he turned the tv on, and The Recruit was playing again, but it was at an entirely different point in the movie, so he watched ten more minutes. He did this about four times all week. First of all, whatever tv channel that was? Wow, showing a real commitment to Farrell and Pacino there. Second of all, how can one stand to watch a movie all chopped up and in the completely wrong order? I don't care what the movie is, that would drive me insane. At any rate, I saw a fair amount of this movie by default this week. Shockingly, it seemed disjointed to me.

TV
Downton Abbey
Bates' low self-esteem stuff is starting to drive me crazy. And also, Maria Doyle Kennedy really has cornered the market on unwanted-wife roles, what with this and then the whole Queen Catherine thing on The Tudors. That's quite a specific niche.

Parks and Rec
THANK GOODNESS YOU'RE BACK.

Project Runway All Stars
I can't decide how I felt about them having to do an outfit for Miss Piggy. On the one hand, Miss Piggy is awesome. On the other hand, really? They had to design an outfit for a Muppet? On the other hand, I like it when something unpretentious happens on Project Runway. On the other hand, the fact that the designers all gushed and treated it so seriously was weird. As you can see, there were a lot of hands in my argument with myself on this.

Books
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot
If Beginners made me cry a little bit in a sweet way, this one made me cry a lot in a sad way. I want to say it was unbelievably sad, but really, unfortunately it was believably sad. The story was well told, and had a lot of access points in it- it's got history, and science, and racial issues, poverty issues, and genealogy, and ethics, and law, and journalism, and family dynamics. All of it works, and works well together. Nicely done, Ms. Skloot. And p.s. I love saying your last name.

Happy Friday!

Snow Day

2012-01-19T15:25:00.001-08:00

Seattle is shut down, y'all. It started dumping snow on Wednesday night and it hasn't let up at our house yet. We tromped around all afternoon. I came home with straight up icicles in my hair. I'd almost forgotten what that feels like.

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True

2012-01-16T21:37:00.000-08:00

This weekend we celebrated Nordic Boy's birthday. It was quiet, full of love and sweetness, just like him. It snowed a bunch, and we took walks in the silent neighborhood, sometimes turning a corner to find squealing kids sledding down empty streets. We ventured out to a show downtown, and we ate some fancy meals in low lit restaurants that were mostly empty due to the weather. His mom and sisters called him up, and so did my folks, all to tell him they love him. I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and he said he just wanted to see me and his two besties, so we had Biogirl and Delium over and ate and laughed. Biogirl made us waffles one morning and I went to a fancy bakery to find us some cake. He bought himself a present that only he would be super excited about: a dust vac that hooks right up to his power tools so the sawdust is collected before it hits the ground. Who buys themselves a dust vac for their birthday, I ask you?

The same sort of dude who thinks knots are way cool, that's who. When I first met Nordic Boy when he was just a kid, we would go to the local bookstore and he would pore over this big book, about knots. I have teased him about it for years and years. This honker is gigantic- it's got to be a 10 pounder of a book, at least it seems so. Paying for it would have kept us in Taco Bell burritos for literally two months, so buying it was out of the question. Even now, when we can afford that book, he has never bought it. It's something he'll go look at in the store every once in a while, even all these years later. He's had a long and true yearning for that book, and the fascination has never waned. This year, I bought it for him. The delight that this purchase brought him will make me smile for just as many years, I'm pretty sure.

I also took our old deck of cards out of the closet. This deck of cards has been with us for almost two decades. The first thing that Nordic Boy and I ever did together was play cards with that deck, in my very first little apartment back in Illinois. I love that deck. So I wrote out, on each card, one thing that is awesome about that dude of mine. It was hard to limit to 52.

Happy birthday, sweet soul. You rock my socks.

Consumables #56

2012-01-13T16:00:00.000-08:00

I have noise-cancelling headphones on right now, and then I decided to chew a piece of gum. Have you ever done this? Hearing gum chewing inside one's own head sounds disgusting, and kind of like a washing machine.

Yes, this is your one-stop shop for high cultural commentary such as that.

Here's what be up! I'm too lazy to put in the links today. Shoddy blogmanship, I know.

TeeVee
Downton Abbey
Nordic Boy is catching up with Season 1 right now, and it just about blew his mind when Maggie Smith was all "what's a weekend?" He was like "God DAMMIT if I could be that rich, to not even know what a weekend is!" He sort of couldn't stop talking about it for a while after that. So Mind? Meet Boggled.

Luther
First of all, let's just get it out of the way by first off saying that Idris Alba can make one want to get dirty in your skirty. Ok? We good on that? He's hot and we don't even need to talk about it. Idris, Stringer Bell, Luther, I don't care WHAT your name is. I feel like I might have talked about this show before, since I started watching it a while ago, so forgive the repeat if I did that. This was a little more on the creepy side than I usually tend to watch, but I stuck with it. I think Alba carries it and I'm not just saying that because of the hotness. I liked the whole Silence of the Lambs vibe it had going on.

Movies
Young Frankenstein
This is one of the first movies Nordic Boy and I ever watched together and we hadn't seen it in a while. It makes me all goopy remembering us watching the first time. "Ovaltine!" To me, that's romantic.

Contagion
I so did not understand the point of this movie. There was a virus, it spread, people died. I just kept wanting to say "...and?" It was fine though.

Books
All nonfiction this week!

Just Kids, by Patti Smith
For some reason I wasn't expecting this book to be that good. I don't know why. But it totally was! I love it when that happens. I was not overly familiar with Smith (I mean I know her stuff, but am not a fanatic) so there was a lot of interesting stuff that was news to me, and I found her not at all like I thought she might be.

The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival, by John Vaillant
I can sum up this book by just saying this. Do NOT, whatever you do, FUCK with a FUCKING TIGER. Don't steal food from him, don't mess with tiger babies, don't insult him, don't look at him funny, just DON'T DO ANYTHING. Because that tiger understands who you are, and can find where you live, and can smell you from a long ways away, and will wait for you and remember you for years and you will not even see it coming and then WHAM he will jump out and eat your ass to the bone and then find anyone else that you have been hanging with that smells like you and eat THEIRSELVES TOO. If you have to mess with a lion, ok. If you have to mess with a bear, so be it. Just NOT A TIGER. The end.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Stay clear of tigers.

Cold gray Januar-ay

2012-01-11T11:34:00.000-08:00

The thermometer says it's not really that cold, but my body disagrees. It feels colder than the thermometer says. I know, talking about the weather is ceaselessly entertaining. I have been trying not to hole up in my house too much. To that end, I did the following.

1. Brunched out with pals twice.
2. Shopped (ok I just went and touched the clothes) at Horseshoe.
3. Supported Biogirl's pie problem by tagging along with her to A La Mode.
4. Did some rounds around Green Lake.
5. "Helped" Nordic Boy plant a new terrarium (hey, I watched him with waves of encouragement emanating out of me. That's totally helping).
6. Ok, I'm not going to lie there was also lots of holing up and staying in, but effort was made.

The Nordic Job

2012-01-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

The Nordic Job: like the Italian Job only with Volvos!

So hey, you want to know what happened around Thanksgiving of 2011? Nordic Boy got laid off. It was so awesome, by which I mean that it was terrifically spectacularly not awesome.

I didn't want to talk about it then because (a) I have a rule about blogging about my work and so it hardly seemed fair for me to blab details about Nordic Boy's, but I just couldn't not talk about the details for a while there, so I thought I better just not mention it at all or diarrhea of the keyboard might happen. I have specific ways that I will talk about my job on the internets and they are super narrow parameters, mostly because I think that work takes up way too much of my brain already so why would I spend more time dedicated to this and also I just think it a bad idea to blog about work in general because there is probably some way that you will get your ass bit by that, or at least I would. And also (b) it was super stressful and Joel had just died in the fall which was still on our minds a lot of course so we weren't really feeling our most strong anyway and so we did something in our family that is akin to "circling the wagons" or "huddling up" but not those things because I don't like sports metaphors and circling the wagons makes me want to barf, as a phrase. Basically, for the month of December, we told people, but in terms of talking about the real stuff- how it felt, and what we were thinking- we kept that for the most significant peeps until recently.

But, now the huddling of wagons is over and I'm still not talking about Nordic Boy's job details, but the feelings stuff? Ok, in a nutshell.

I know that, unfortunately, being laid off is not an uncommon thing to have happen to people these days. Heck, I am from Flint where, when I was a kid, pretty much everyone I knew was getting laid off of something somewhere, so it's not even a new event in my life. I knew what the term "laid off" was by the time I was 4 years old. Still, it sucks. Su-hucks. It sucks because it makes you aware that sometimes, it doesn't matter how good you are at your job, how much of a difference you make while doing it, how much experience you have built up, how much expertise you have, how much your coworkers respect what you do, how well you are liked, how much money and efficiency you bring back to your organization, how much you completely kick ass all day every day, or how ridiculously hard you work. Nordic Boy was at the top top top on all of these fronts, and I am not just saying that because I think he's the cat's pajamas. Really, it's just an objective fact: he is all of these things and more. But keeping his job just didn't have anything to do with any of that. Not one little bit.

Seriously, you guys. Markets shifted and none of that awesomeness that he was bringing to the table meant a good goddamn. When it came to keeping his job, all that good stuff just straight up did not matter.That's fucked up when you have to think about it, and sit with it, and know it in your guts. That's a faceful of reality right there.

To use another sports metaphor, but only because it is so appropriate that I can't not, Nordic Boy took it like a champ. He really did, and not in a stiff upper lip way. He took it in, felt some feelings, and then moved on to what he could do about it and figured out what he couldn't do about it. Man, if we could package up his reaction to stuff like this, we would be RICH. Also, this is further evidence (as if I needed more) that he is who you want to have around when the zombie apocalypse comes. If the braineaters show up, you all need to hightail it to our house.

Before you all become too worried about the state of things around here (I should have said this right up front, sorry), we are ok, and Nordic Boy has found another job that he starts today. It's hard for us to know how to feel about this- of course we are happy and we want to feel proud of him for getting out there ("put yourself out there!" as the Bachelor always talks about) and making something happen that is positive and a great opportunity, which it is and we do, but I also want to make sure I acknowledge that there are so many other people out there losing jobs, losing homes, losing a lot, and they deserve good things too, pretty likely more than we do. I don't think, and I know that Nordic Boy doesn't think, that he deserves it more than them. I just have to say that and if you are someone that has lost a job and have not been able to find another one yet, good luck to you. Not an ironic, sarcastic good luck to you. (How did that phrase become so flip? "Oh yeah? Well good luck to you, sucker!") I'm not talking about that kind. I'm talking a heartfelt, sincere one. Good luck to you.

Anyway, this was kind of a big deal in our lives, even though the turnaround time was thankfully, luckily so short, and so I thought I would let you all know about it. As I said, he starts his new job today, and he's really excited about it, and again we're lucky that not only did he find something, but it's a something he wants to be doing. And super bonus: no more travelling! At least not on a regular basis. I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I get to see him every single day, and we get to sleep in the same bed every single night. SO COOL.

And to our peeps who were in the wagon huddle: super big ups, y'all.

Consumables #55

2012-01-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

Movies!

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Do we still think Jude Law is cute? Like, as a society? Because I can't remember if we're still supposed to be thinking that. Anyway. There were fights and chases and explosions and I liked how Holmes and Watson were sort of in love with each other. They even get to partner dance with each other and it warmed my heart.

Muppets

There was nothing that I wanted more at a certain time in my life than to live inside the Muppet Show. This movie made me want that again. I want to wear Amy Adams' rainbow outfits and sing in production numbers about how life is a happy song with Rolf's floppy ears going crazy and Gonzo and his weird chicken lovers and Kermit somehow always being so frigging poignant and why can't I do it, WHYYYYY.

Hugo

There is a thing that happens in lots of kids' movies which I call the "whoaaaaaaa" moment. It's when a chase is happening, or someone falls off something, or slides down a chute, or is in a car or plane or train that goes out of control, and the character goes "whoa!" for about 10 seconds. The whoa moment is everywhere now, and I find it irritating because I am old and crotchety. Hugo is a beautiful film that is heartfelt and suspenseful and does not have ONE whoa moment. Not one! This gives it points in my book based on that alone. Even with that aside, I thought it was lovely. Good job, Mr. Scorsese. And you didn't even have to have Joe Pesci show up to put the beat down on anyone.

Christmas Carol times two

After reading a Christmas Carol again this year, I felt like watching a couple of movie versions. First, we watched the 1938 version starring Reginald Owen. Then we watched the Muppet version with Michael Caine. Both were worth seeing, but I shall warn you that Michael Caine is made to sing in his version which probably could have gone undone.

Green Lantern

I basically half-watched this while doing other things. 50% of my attention was still too much.

The Trip

I could see some people finding this movie completely annoying, but I didn't. I thought it funny and it made me want to take a foodie road trip through England. There was a scene where Steve Coogan is running across some step stones in a river, and gets stuck in the middle, and Rob Brydon yells to him from shore: "Oh no! You're stuck in a metaphor!" That cracked me right up for days.

Eames: The Architect and the Painter

I liked that this wasn't an idealized portrayal of Charles and Ray. For fans of their work, there is plenty of eye candy, but I wished there was a little more depth in the description of their processes.

TeeVee!

Portlandia

It kind of amazes me that this is so popular everywhere. I get so much glee from it because I live in the Pacific Northwest. I mean, I think it's funny anyway, but it's just that extra something-something if you live here.

Caprica

A spinoff/prequel of Battlestar Galactica, which I should have watched a long time ago but I was kind of mad about how BG ended. So I finally got around to this one, and it was ok, but not a barnburner, entertainment-wise.

Books!

Karma, by Cathy Osterle

I give this one points for an exciting plot that will keep people turning pages, and for tackling a specific time and place in history that is hard to find in teen lit: the time period during the time that Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated and the riots that followed. Ultimately, I found it disappointing that the characters were so stereotypical, and that all of the Indian population, with only one or two exceptions, were portrayed as a cruel people, prone to terrorism at worst and apathy at best as a whole.

Every Me, Every You, by David Levithan

I know this title is taken from a Placebo song, but every time I picked it up for some reason I couldn't help singing "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba instead. The good news is, every time I sang the words "Knowing me, knowing you," Nordic Boy would pipe in with the "uh huh" part. Oh, you wanted to hear about the book? Silly me. I have read a lot of teen books, but this one tops my list of one of the most emo ones I have read. So just prepare yourself for that. I did like the mix of photos and text though.

The White Tiger, by Aravind Adiga

The setting and the point of this book are both not anything new, but what makes it a great read is the character of Balram, the confessor who is telling the story of his crime. He is maddening and sympathetic, funny and scary, and his point of view carried the whole thing for me.

Music!

Here is some advice from me to you about combining two activities: cooking and dancing. Nordic Boy and I are great cooking/dance party enthusiasts, and I realized that the best songs for this are ones that have calm moments where you can concentrate on the recipe you are following, etc. But then they have to bust out with a ramp up section where you can kick up a serious groove for a minute. The song that came up on Pandora that really brought this home for me was that Usher song "Without You." Tell me you can't listen to this and know when it is time to measure your ingredients and when it's time to throw your hands up and shake the bootango.

Happy Friday!

I don't think so

2012-01-05T19:35:00.001-08:00

My TiVo says weird things to me sometimes.

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The Meta Plan

2012-01-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

Nordic Boy and I are total planners. There is a part of me that wanted to deny or qualify this before I even finished typing the words. I don't want to sound stodgy. I don't think of myself as a Bert. I think of myself as an Ernie. And I do think that we are pretty good about not sticking to a plan when it's failing, or changing course when we need to. We're not married to our plans. But we do make them, commit to them, and pretty much always follow through on them. I guess we are pretty goal oriented in some ways, although again for some reason I feel embarrassed to say so. It's not the hippy/hipster thing to be, is it? I feel like I am Ben Stiller and Winona Ryder is just going to go off with that fuckface Ethan Hawke. And why the hell did she do that, you guys? Ethan Hawke was SUCH A DICK.

One thing we usually do in January is check up on all the plans we made the January before and check them off the list and talk about what plans we have for the new year and write out how we'll accomplish them. I realize I have been saying for so many years now that I am not a New Years Resolutions lady and so perhaps you are calling me a Full of Crap lady because it sounds like the same thing to you. To me, it seems different. Oh well. Anyway. We have a plan for our house- we have a huge master list of every last thing that we want to do on our house from now until the end of time- and we pick out the things that we think we can tackle for this year. Then we do a projected budget, and a timeline, and a supplies list. We also do a financial plan for the year. We set specific goals and then figure out what it will take to achieve them, and we write that shit out too. Then we make a vacation plan- any trips we need to take for the year? Where? How much vacation time will we need? How much money? Any personal goals for the year? A class one of us wants to take? An experience one of us wants to have? And then...

You get the picture. We plan.

In our defense (again, I am feeling the need to defend this), we don't just plan and put these things away until the next year. We check in with our plans throughout the year, see where we are, what needs attention. And as stick-in-the-mud as it sounds, at the end of the year, it feels SO FREAKING AWESOME when we look over all of those plans and see what we have accomplished. We have a yay us! grand old time every December. Because even if we didn't meet our goals exactly, we probably met part of them, and most of the time it's a big part. It's really motivating and empowering. And more than anything, I think it's a way for us to communicate about what we want out of our lives, what we are thinking about, what we are worried about, and what we can help each other with.

We were talking over one of our plans tonight (this one budgetary). We had gathered up some information and we were going over it and figuring out how to proceed this year. After we were done, he walked over to the kitchen to start dinner, which he did by first looking at our fridge to see the posted - wait for it- weekly meal plan.

Him: Wow, come to think of it, we have a lot of plans in our lives.

Me: I know, we really do.

Him: Let's think about what all part of our lives we have plans for.

Me: What, like just say them? In a list?

Him: Yeah.

Me: What for?

Him: So we can have a picture of our overall plan. What you plan for says a lot about your priorities in life. What you think is important.

Me: What do you mean our overall plan?

Him: Like, what do our many plans paint an overall picture of? When you put them all together, what does it say?

Me: That's deep, dude.

Him: Maybe we should think about the overall plan first, and then do the individual plans from that. Think about it philosophically before we get into the practical.

Me: I think I get what you're saying. Basically, you're saying what if we had a plan that will guide all of our plans.

(pause)

Him: I think I just tipped us right over into crazytown.

Me: Yeah.

Him: Forget I said anything.

Me: I plan to.

Holiday shots

2012-01-03T08:26:00.000-08:00

Stuff I want to remember from the last week or so.

2011 kicks the bucket

2012-01-02T09:12:00.000-08:00

Another holiday season behind us, and a fresh clean year has started just so that we can fill it up with our joys and fuck ups. We'll have them both, but let's hope for more joys. It was my sixth anniversary of the bloggie this past month, so now is a good time to thank you for stopping by to hear my mess every so often, and if you blog yourself, thanks for letting me read about what's up with you. Writing is good, is what I have discovered, because I am always down for pointing out the obvious and claiming to have discovered it. Watch, I'll do it again: pop tarts are probably not that great for you, healthwise, is what I have discovered.

Anyway. You guys are good blog friends, and I appreciate it.

Happiness, healthiness, love. These three I wish for you. And let's face it, for me too, I won't front.

Happy New Year.

New Year Meme 2011

2011-12-31T12:36:00.000-08:00

Once again, I'm doing this tired old thing. Don't tell me that I never recycle anything.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Went to a baseball game. The food sucked monkey balls and cost like it came from the mothereffing Ritz. But the game was fun, and the friends, and the sweet, sweet sunshine. Also, I went to see roller derby. Look at me, so sporty!

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Last year I did a whole list of things I want to keep up, rather than things I wanted to change. I should write a post about whether I did all of it or whether I was full of shit. Perhaps I will. But not right now. As for 2012 ones, I doubt it. I haven't decided yet.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes! It was another year of babies all around! Cuteness levels WAY UP in 2011.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Well, he was close to Nordic Boy, which is as close to me as you can get. It was horrible.

5. What countries did you visit?

You know what? I am changing this question to "what trips did you take?" so I don't have to keep saying the same mess every year about not travelling abroad.

New York, New York, it's a wonderful town! (I love singing the line from that song). Also, Dungeness Spit, the Olympic Peninsula, Portland, Michigan.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
More healthiness for all my loved ones. Or all of everyone. Just...health to all.

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why
I have so many, but I will say July 4, because I went to a really fun party and saw fireworks and it was good times.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Keeping it positive on the work tip, yo. Also, resolving some friendship stuff that needed resolving on a couple of fronts. The friendship situations just about killed me this year. It's good to care that much and love people as much as I do, and I wouldn't change that about myself even if I could, but sometimes it opens me up to heartbreak too. Thankee Jebus that I still have some good homies to count on.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I honestly can't think of one. Apparently I have a high opinion of myself. There was that time I lost my new camera, which made me feel like a first class a-hole.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had a serious case of gut bug for the first time ever. It was terrible but I did get to lie on the bathroom floor like a frigging rock star. GLAM.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My plane tickets to New York.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I have so many people I could mention for this, which is awesomesauce. I will just say Alli and Map, for coming to see me just because I missed them so bad. And BioGirl, for carrying out friendship duties with panache.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
I don't even want to talk about it, because my being appalled doesn't change a goddamn thing.

14. Where did most of your money go?
A gas line and a new furnace to match. The furnace company was all "make it rain, suckers!" and we did. It poured.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to Portland Fashion Week with my bestie.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

It's not even a song from this year, but I listened to it a lot this year, because I can be dumb and dramatic sometimes. "Every Heartbeat" by Robyn. I'll put a clip of it at the end of the post.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Both
ii. thinner or fatter? Same
iii. richer or poorer? Same

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Reading and spending time with my peeps and going to arty things. You know, the stuff I want to be doing all the time.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Working

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Already happened! My dude, movies, reading, laughing, eating.

22. Did you fall in love in 2011?
Every frigging day.

23. How many one-night stands?
Zip.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Parks and Rec. Ron Swanson for President.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
No. To quote Michael Jackson, I'm a lover not a fighter. Also, shamone.

26. What was the best book you read?
I quite enjoyed two books I read by Aravind Adiga: Last Man in Tower and The White Tiger.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I like Craft Spells a lot.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
Harry Potter, Muppets. Because I am 10 years old?

31. What did you do on your birthday?
I dropped Nordic Boy off at the airport so he could see his cousin in the hospital, I had lunch with Biogirl, got my beloved new camera, and got ready to go to Portland Fashion Week. It was a day full of super highs and super lows, like last year.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Less activity around hospitals overall.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
I love clothes and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny. However, I went to New York this year and was on a budget and did not buy one thing. ONE THING. Restraint, people.

34. What kept you sane?
My peeps, hands down.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I don't know. I hate this question. I know that every die-hard Gilmore Girls fan was feeling that strange happy/possessive feeling about Melissa McCarthy this year. You know, the so-glad-she-is-successful mixed with I-totally-knew-about-her-awesomeness-before-everyone else. Let's all collectively get over that, because I wasn't the only one watching the Gilmore Girls and neither were you. It just feels that way.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Japanese tsunami, Arab Spring, and the Penn State disgustingness.

37. Who did you miss?
Mom, Dad, Allison, Map, Julia, Nan, Rosita... so many people to miss. Sigh.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
My new coworkers are pretty rad.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
I've learned it before but I had to learn it again and it was just as hard as ever: letting go is all there is to do sometimes.

40. A song lyric that sums up your year.

I'll do that sad one I mentioned before, but then end on a happy one, because both are totally appropriate, and I am feeling hopeful about 2012 and I want to end on that. May you feel the same about the coming year.

Goodbye 2011:
Maybe we could make it all right
We could make it better sometime
Maybe we could make it happen, baby

We could keep trying but things will never change, so I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take, but I don't look back

And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat

Hello 2012:

You don't have a clue
What it is like to be next to you
I'm here to tell you
That it is good
That it is true

Birds singing a song
Old paint is peeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling

Words can't be that strong
My heart is reeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling

Try
Try to forget what's in the past
Tomorrow is here
Love,
Orange sky above lighting your way
There's nothing to fear

Birds singing a song
Old paint is peeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling

Words can't be that strong
My heart is reeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling

Some people are good

Babe in the 'hood

So pure and so free

I'd make a safe bet

You're gonna get whatever you need

Oh, you mean a holiday as in taking a holiday. I see now.

2011-12-28T15:21:00.000-08:00

My motivation for writing on the bloggy always goes down a bit this time of year, because I feel like people probably aren't reading. What with work holidays, travelling, and the like. Do I know this from my blog stats, you ask? Do I even look at my blog stats anymore? Well, that's beside the point, is what I say. Who needs facts when my feelings tell me I can slack off? Thanks, feelings!

You know how I am always saying that when it comes to the holidays, I don't really understand what all the fuss is about? Well, during pretty much my entire adult working life, I have never taken any days off around the holidays, and this year I did. Newsflash, everyone! Not having to work for a few extra days totally makes holiday time so exciting! NOW I GET IT. See, sometimes I see the dots, but I don't always connect the dots.

I had four days off in a row this week, and it was like a relaxation bonanza going on around here. There was one day when I didn't even crack my door open to leave my house but at all. I know! Crazyballs!

On Friday as I was leaving work, Nordic Boy called to tell me that our car crapped out and so we had it towed and waited with bated breath to hear back that it wouldn't cost five zillion dollars to fix. We got it back yesterday and it was only 2 zillion dollars, so I guess our wishing should have been more specific. The time that wasn't spent wasted on highballing our wishes was pretty good. Nordic Boy cooked up a ton of awesome food, which I helped with, and it was all so delicious, and I loved it, and it was fun to make together, but honestly I am all cooked out for probably the rest of my life.

Other than that I didn't do one productive thing at all. Well, we paid bills and cleaned the house and did laundry and that type of thing, but that doesn't count. Other than that we watched movies and read books and just were complete and total shut ins. Nordic Boy didn't even work on the house. I know, WUT. Other than some time spent with Delium, we kicked it hermit style and it was awesome.

I hope that you had a great holiday, if in fact you celebrate that sort of thing. If you don't do the holidays, at least take a lesson from me. Take some days off if you can. That's the kind of holiday magic anyone can get behind.

Hello Talbots, and you too Chico's

2011-12-20T09:24:00.000-08:00

Mom: I stopped over at Christopher and Banks this morning, but I didn't find anything.
Me: What store is that again?
Mom: Christopher and Banks.
Me: I've never been there. What is it? Clothes?
Mom: You've never heard of it?
Me: I've heard of it, but there isn't one here in Seattle I think. Other than maybe in the malls, and I don't go to the mall much. What kind of stuff do they have?
Mom: Oh you know. Clothes for older ladies. Like us.
Me: (silence as I slowly digest that my septuagenarian mother has now put me in her age category)
Me: Oh.
Mom: (back pedal, back pedal!) I just mean, it's not for teenagers. That's all I mean.
Me: Got it.

I guess it's time for me to stop thinking Ann Taylor is too old for me.

...

I CAN'T. I JUST CAN'T.

Consumables #54

2011-12-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

I checked the weather this morning and the forecast for Seattle was colder than the forecast for Wisconsin, Michigan and New York today. What kind of ridiculousness is that? Mild climate my ass. I also happened to see the local tv news the other day, and the weatherman was calling his forecast the "futurecast." Wow, so space age! And also, are we now afraid that the word forecast is too hard for people to understand? So we have to put the word future into it just to make sure we understand what is happening? What's next? Will history class be called Pastory or Old-Timey-Times or something?

I don't know. Perhaps I am just gripey because it looks like this outside.

So get this, I have further evidence that old ladyness is taking over my being. Last night I came home from work and Nordic Boy and I had a lovely dinner, followed by a little Daily Show/Colbert on the DVR, and some conversation after that. At about 9pm, we were sitting on our couch, looking at the candles in our fireplace. Nordic Boy reached over and turned the lights down to romantical levels, and within 5 minutes? I WAS ASLEEP. Can you believe that nonsense? Oh yes, I know how to keep the spark alive, people.

The holidays are totally happening, like almost now, and not only have my normal levels of non-caring about them gone on (still not interested in a tree or putting up lights or making cookies or shopping for gifts or traveling), but the one and only thing I usually do for the holidays- send out cards- has fallen by the wayside. I have not done a good goddamn about holiday cards yet, which means at this point it's probably not happening. Perhaps I shall send out Groundhog Day cards later on or something instead. I guess this is my way of telling any of you who are reading this who normally get a card from me this year that the lack of card-giving does not mean I have chopped you from the list. I'm just full on in denial about the season. Ho ho ho.

Wait, hold on. My denial is not total and complete. I have done one holiday-ish item this year. Check me out! It's a Consumable.

Books
I decided to read some Christmasy stuff written by old Chuck Dickens. First of all, I read A Christmas Carol, which I haven't read since I was in high school. I confess I rather like Mr. Scrooge. Not so much on the being a bad boss thing, but on all the other stuff. I didn't find him to be so bad. I found him quite likeable actually. I know I sound crazyballs on this one, but hear me out. I think that I find a secret (ok maybe not so secret) glee in characters who don't understand the holidays. This is why I love Charlie Brown so much. And the Grinch too. And all those selfish city ladies in Hallmark Original Movies about the holidays. Sure, they all find the Christmas spirit at the end, but that's like, during the last 5 minutes of the story so I can almost ignore that part. The rest of the time they are all "merry who now?" I can identify, is all I am saying.

The second Dickens item I read was the short story A Christmas Tree. And holy guacamole was it a total snoozefest. Ay carumba with the on and on about the dang tree. SHUT UP, CHUCKIE. (Are you seeing why I have empathy for Ebenezer now?) I'm just saying that I don't recommend that one.

Movies
We watched Captain America, wherein he kicks Nazi ass. It was everything that you might want/expect out of a movie like that. No surprises and that was just fine with me. We also watched Helen Mirren kick Nazi ass in The Debt. Lastly I watched Funny Girl where there were no Nazis at all, thank goodness. I watched it because my friend Linda, when referring to her own outfit, used the words "ruffled shirt" and what else is one supposed to do when those words are used than think "Nick Arnestein!" and then run home and watch Babs and Omar? I was like Pavlov's dog: she said ruffled shirt and I had immediate Funny Girl cravings. And, I totally had forgotten that Frankincense Pontipee was in that movie. I want to also mention the outfit that Barbra wears that has, instead of a shoulder clasp or brooch, a full-size bunch of grapes hanging off of her shoulder, but I can't think of how to work it in so I am just going to mention it and leave it alone. Also, I love the headpieces during "His Love Makes Me Beautiful." Let's look at it together, shall we?

Have a lovely weekend!

Consumables #53

2011-12-09T10:17:00.000-08:00

This hibernation thing is getting out of control.

My policy of saying yes to things has gone down the frigging toilet this past month. All I do is stay home, and then decide to stay home some more, with a side of staying home. To be fair, I am feeling very mentally busy lately, rather than my usual vapid self, and all this thinking and plotting and scheming takes TIME. And luckily, most of it can be done from the comfort of my own couch, preferably under a blanket. But still. I had the opportunity to go see Mark Morris last weekend and I just totally didn't feel like going, so I didn't. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME? Oh, and in case you were just dying with curiosity about that whole Next Phase of Life thing that I was talking about? Don't hold your breath on that one, because it turns out that planning big things takes a shit ton of time. And also, my definition of a Big Thing is probably not yours. (That's what she said).

Also, remember my policy last year of saying yes to the holidays? How I went all out (at least for me) and Kris Kringled it up? That shit is not happening this year either. I have not given the holidays one itty bitty corner of my mind this year. Not even a little. Honestly I don't really know what month it is. So what happened last year is apparently not a trend.

So, to sum up: policies are all going to shit!

My policy of consumable consuming is still on though.

Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens. Dude, this shit was harsh! I mean, I knew what it was about, but had never read it for real, and poor Oliver gets beat up, beat down, kidnapped, starved. I would sit there and read, and Nordic Boy would say "How's Oliver doing?" and I would say "not good, man. Not good." Also, there was nothing quotable about it in quite the same way as this, one of our favorite things to re-enact in our house:

The 12 Men of Christmas
Lest you think I was going all high-minded on you with my bad Dickensian self, let me share with you the joy that is The 12 Men of Christmas, a Lifetime Original Movie starring Kristen Chenoweth and the dude from Cougartown. Kristen stars as a high-powered career gal who is lonely and loveless (surprise!). She loses her PR job when her bitchy career gal boss humps Kristen's skeezy big city boyfriend. A small town in Montana somehow gets her number and wants to hire her for a year to live there and drum up PR for tourism for their town, aka she is totally Northern Exposured. She goes to Montana and doesn't understand those crazy small towners! They volunteer, as in work without being paid, and no one in the city ever does that! She has never heard of such a thing. They also hug you when you show up for business meetings. And there is also a dickish guy who is mean and condescending to her, which is a drop dead signal that they will end up together by the end of this thing, because if you are dicky to a lady, that just shows her you are passionate and adorable. Take note, fellas! Anyway, Kristin's brilliant, completely original, never-thought-of-before idea is that the town's hot dudes will be featured in a racy calendar. So Northern Exposure has now turned into a Full Monty/Calendar Girls hybrid. And you know what? The calendar makes the town WORLD FAMOUS. And Kristen gets the man at the end (causing it to snow). Side note: you know how you can tell a Hallmark Original Holiday movie from a Lifetime Original Holiday movie? Lifetime is racier. For instance, Kristen finds herself in a situation where she happens upon a swimming pool where Cougartown man is skinny dipping. As you do. And he decides to flirt with her by getting out of the pool nude and being assy to her (both physically and metaphorically) which hey, that isn't creepy and prosecutable! And she looks him up and down and says: "not interested." and he says something like: "I bet you I can make your interest GROW." There was also a fishing lesson whereby he asks her to be gentle with the rod or some such thing. Oh, Lifetime.

Hey you guys. I just wrote four sentences about Dickens and about twenty on the 12 Men of Christmas. I should be so proud.

NOVA: Fabric of the Cosmos
Brian Green (or, as I like to imagine him, Brian Austin Green) talks trippy physics. I am also convinced that he creates a time-space distortion that is created within the confines of the show. Evidence: while I am watching it, I totally understand everything he is saying. As soon as it's over, I can't explain shit.

Lastly, just when I think I could not love Jon Stewart any more than I do, he goes and does this. I frigging love it so much.

How I can turn breadmaking into a tearjerker

2011-12-05T14:49:00.000-08:00

There is a lot of stuff changing in my life right now, and I feel like the train is moving fast and I am holding on to the caboose for dear life, my feet flying out behind me. Most of it is stuff that I can't talk about on the bloggie (omg don't you HATE coy shit like that?) but all of a sudden Nordic Boy and I are making plans for the Next Phase in Our Lives. Doesn't that sound like a soap opera? Or the tagline for some sort of menopause commercial? Or I guess I should say menopause medication commercial. They don't really make ads for menopause itself.

And, just in case you are one of Nordic Boy's aunts out there, the Next Phase in Our Lives does not mean I am preggers.

So this weekend was full of talking and prepping and thinking and percolating. Also spreadsheets were involved. You know shit is about to get exciting when you bust out a spreadsheet! Am I right?

In other news, my parents bought Nordic Boy a present, just because he's awesome. I love the fact that my parents and Nordic Boy are so close. I am for serious, I could boohoo just thinking about it. There was a point where my dad was in the hospital a few years ago, and he was just as sick as could be, and when he came home he was too weak to walk into the house on his own, and the ambulance driver offered to lift my dad out of the vehicle, but my dad said "I'd like my son to do that please," and Nordic Boy stepped right up and carried my little dad all the way into the house, and helped him into his pajamas and got him into bed, and my dad looked at him and said "thank you, kiddo" and I could see the two of them look into each other's faces for a second, and it was a huge moment in my life, let me tell you. You can't beat that, man, you really can't.

Anyway, this is the most roundabout tangent-ridden way on earth to tell you that Nordic Boy was enamored of my folks' bread machine the last time we were there, and they up and bought him one and had it sent to our house and it has been like Christmas come early. My only fear is that Nordic Boy will now unceasingly stuff me with carbs until I burst open. I guess that's not a bad way to go.

So life planning and carbs was basically how I spent my weekend. Oh, and also last night there was a crazy scuffling sound outside our front door, and when we looked outside, there were two giant raccoons on our porch. They had made a really weird, loud noise to get our attention like that and I think they were either fighting or having racoon loving. When they saw Nordic Boy's face in the window, they both stood up and raised their arms up as if to say "you want a piece of this?" We decided that we really did not want a piece of that, and let them be. Raccoons are bad ASS.

Also, I tagged along with Nordic Boy to the bookstore. I didn't really go for my own purposes, so while he was looking for his deal, I went over to the Humor section to take a look at the new Mindy Kaling book. I feel a lot of pressure to read Mindy Kaling's book, because she is a hip Indian lady, and so I feel like I am OBLIGATED. It's like how I feel obligated to like MIA. I have two whole pop culture role models, which is two more than I ever had as a kid, so having two feels OVERWHELMING. I mean, when I was a child I liked Jacqueline Smith the best out of the Charlie's Angels because she was the DARKEST. That was about as much hope as I had in my life about people looking like me. So that is the scale I am used to, people.

Anyway, the Humor section was super crowded so I went to the next section over and read the Kaling book. Turns out the next section over was the Bible section. So me, sitting in the Bible section, laughing my guts out. Lovely.

I think I might have exceeded all bounds of randomness this time around.

Ditching

2011-12-03T19:49:00.001-08:00

I'm becoming a first-class ditcher. But really, a book, a movie, a blanket, a couch, and a cute boy? Saturday night happiness.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Yuletide Yodel

2011-12-02T17:13:00.000-08:00

I am thinking about last weekend right now. It was a good one, but dang it seems like years ago now. I realized that I usually do a weekend roundup type dealie, and I didn't this time, so Ima do it now. I just KNOW you were all antsy in your pantsies about not knowing how my weekend was last weekend, right? I know. It was tearing you up inside.

First of all, I met up with some homies at a local drinky station. Both Nordic Boy and I were seriously dragging our asses and were perfectly primed for the last minute bail, but we pulled through and showed our faces. I am still on a grand quest to find my signature drink, and I am sorry to say that I did not find it yet. This time I sampled a Mamie Taylor. Actually I can't remember what it was I had. Which maybe is a sign that I really liked it or I really didn't. The other thing that happened was that Nordic Boy got ripped. He can hold his liquor really well so the last time I saw him in such a state was circa 1995. When we got home he ran around our house for a good half an hour singing the opening yodel from "Tonight I'm Lovin' You" by Enrique Iglesias, or as Nordic Boy insisted upon calling him: Julio Ing-Ling-ias Junior. So actually, it wasn't that different from non-drunk Nordic Boy.

Also, we stayed out that night until midnight or so. Alert the media!

Thanksgiving was a day of cooking, and eating, and watching really bad movies. Just like the pilgrims.

I rounded out the rest of the weekend by cloistering myself in my house pretty much the whole time, with one break to go over to Biogirl's house to help her put up her tree and otherwise get her yule decoration on. Although I am not a Christmas tree or decor person I do like that I know people who are and that I can participate in it to some extent. I rather like it in short bursts. Like, for an afternoon is perfect.

And now it's December, which, yikes.

Happy Friday, all. Please start it off with yodel along with Mr. Ing-Ling-ias.

Consumables #52

2011-11-30T19:17:00.000-08:00

Tis the season for me to want to do nothing but read, watch movies, and take a snooze. Hence, here are some consumabley highlights.

Books!
Lightning Rods by Helen DeWitt.
I got this at Book Expo before it came out and it has been sitting on my shelf ever since, so I finally picked it up. I had no idea what it was about and had never read any DeWitt before so I had no expectations at all. Well, I am trying to think if I have ever read a weirder book than this. I am sure I have, but this one has a very specific brand of nutty that I have not experienced before. How do I even explain it? It is about a vacuum cleaner salesman who spends his spare time fantasizing about ladies in some sort of glory hole situation. So like, he can see their bottom half, but the top half is somehow not seen, like the lady is leaning out a window or something. STAY WITH ME. He then spins this fantasy into an actual prostitution business for corporate America, whereby business-dudes are provided with glory hole services in their corporate bathrooms as a motivational technique and sexual harrassment deterrent. It is a satire about corporate America, and selling ideas, and sex and gender and heterosexuality and all like that. And sure, the satire works. But still. Wow. I just keep thinking that as an author, one could write about anything. And this author was like: I shall write a scathing satire about corporate America, and the central idea upon which it will all rest? Glory holes. Okey dokey.

Movies!
Crazy Stupid Love
Before I talk about this movie, let me tell you about The Golden Child. Remember that movie? It's the one where Eddie Murphy goes to Nepal and rescues a little bald asian kid who has magical powers and Charles Dance is Satan and I am not even kidding you that is really what is going on. It is just a mess. However, Eddie Murphy is charming in it, with his laugh and his funny comebacks and his leather hat. It was the first Eddie Murphy movie that I saw where I was like: no matter what the shitty premise is, somehow Eddie Murphy is still funny and likable. What kind of trick is that? Now, I am not saying that Crazy Stupid Love was as bad as The Golden Child, don't get me wrong. All I am saying is that the whole thing relied way too heavily on the fact that people like Steve Carell, and Ryan Gosling, and Emma Stone. And Julianne Moore too, I guess. Do people go crazy for Julianne Moore? I don't know. The point is, I wanted this movie to be worthy of them too, I really did. But I think it worked because they are them. Which is ok I suppose. Pet peeve: dude who is shitty to women all of a sudden becomes the perfect boyfriend when he finds The One. You think you can get away with this because it's Ryan Gosling, script-people? I see what you're trying to pull, and it won't work.

Hanna
This is not a spoiler because it happens at the very beginning of the movie. It opens up with Eric Bana and his daughter Hanna (Hanna Bana! ok not really since that is his real name and her character name, but I SO WISH), who are spies in hiding. Eric has taught her everything about fighting spying and running around all stealthy because if they are ever to assimilate into society, The Bad Guys will come after her (for reasons that are explained later in the movie). Here's what I don't get, and if any of you who have watched this movie get this, please email me and explain it to me or comment or something. If and when Hanna Bana wants to assimilate back into society, she has to activate this electronic box. The box immediately alerts The Bad Guys that she is now officially assimilating back into society. My question is: why did she need to activate that weirdo box? If she wanted to assimilate and disappear and live her life, why doesn't she go do that? Why does she has to say YOOHOO I AM ASSIMILATING NOW, COME AND KILL ME to her enemies via an alert box? I so totally didn't get that. Also, on an unrelated note, if Eric Bana taught her to speak in multiple languages and know complex scientific processes and all kinds of other brainy genius stuff, how come he couldn't tell her what a remote control is? The spy training had major holes in it, is all I am saying.

TeeVee!
I am sad that Dancing With the Stars made me like Hope Solo a little less. Not that I even really knew who she was before, other than that she plays soccer and took that nude photo. Still. I don't like it when I like someone less. Like, I was watching Anderson Cooper's talk show a little bit. I maybe watched 3 or 4 episodes. And now that is making me like Anderson less. This should not be the result of a tv show, should it? Anyway, Dancing With the Stars. That Kardashian kid over Ricki Lake? Are you joking me?

A Christmas Proposal
Tis the season for made-for-tv holiday movies. The first one I sampled this week did not disappoint. It had all the elements. (1) It starred Nicole Eggert, who no longer wants Charles in charge of her, thank you, and this other guy who looked like Patrick Dempsey, who she did want to have in charge of her. Also, Tom Arnold, who apparently is in 45% of holiday movies these days because he was in that one I watched about Saving Santaville. Let's see, what are the other elements? (2) People from the big city are horrible, selfish people. (3) Country people are good, kind people, smug in their folksiness. (4) City people can be converted back to love and light if they end up in a small town and somehow get stuck there and can't leave. (5) Horrible city people, upon conversion, cause it to snow. (6) City ladies in particular are the worst. They are career gals who hate children and kittens. (7) Country ladies wear cozy sweaters and have rosy cheeks, and often bake cookies. (8) There is some sort of Christmas deadline. The town must be saved by Christmas, in this case. There is lots of town-saving in these movies. I shall not do any spoilers by telling you if Nicole Eggert and Poor Man's Patrick Dempsey fall in love (causing it to snow) or if the town was saved or if any city people were smothered to death by Santa or anything.

Hell on Wheels
The jury is still out on whether I'll keep watching this. Lordy knows I love dramas that are set in the 1800s. It was all that Little House I watched as a child. Plus it stars Chief O'Brien, and if you don't know who Chief O'Brien is, then your nerd card is immediately forfeit. However, I think that Deadwood may have set the bar so high on 1800s drama that I am ruined forever.

I feel like that was a particularly grumpy Consumables. Let's turn it around, shall we? I watched a bunch of short films recently, and my favorite one that I watched was Lost and Found, an animated short. I loved it.

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-25T10:43:00.000-08:00

Remember when I said I was going to do NaBloPoMo? And then I didn't post for two weeks? Ha ha, wasn't that a good one? I love that story.

Well, since then, Thanksgiving has come and gone. Food was eaten, movies were watched, asses were expanded. Pretty much what one might expect.

More than any other holiday, Thanksgiving makes me think about family. What family means and who in my life is in the circle. Lucky for me, I have quite a crowded circle. I am a loyal sort of person and so once you're in the circle, I am not leaving you no matter what. Ok, maybe not no matter what. If you turn into a jerk or leave me first, I let you go. But that's pretty much the only two reasons that I will stop paying attention to you. Otherwise you are in love lockdown, buster. And not in a Kanye way, in a good way, so don't be frightened. Unfortunately there have been many people that have succumbed to those two reasons, which is super sad. But there are many who haven't, year after year, through so many nutty times. They continue to love me, and be there for me, and stay present, and not let the lack of time, or the size of distance, or the changing of circumstance get in the way. Considering the craziness of all of our lives, that is quite a feat. And it's those people I think about and feel so full of thankful for on thanksfullness day. Some of these folks are related to me by blood, and most of them are not, but they are all my family.

Because everyone is so far-flung in my life, many of my peeps are not in enough proximity for us to stuff our faces while in the same room. Kind of sucks. On the bright side, I do have some most-favorite of peeps right here in the vicinity and we did get together for a full meal throwdown. At our little table this year, my relationships with these three folks adds up to 53 years of love and commitment. Come on. That's amazing.

I really have amazing people in my life. I aspire to be as awesome as they are, to not turn into a jerk, and to not leave anyone behind. With peeps like I got, they make the first one hard but the last two easy.

Sparkles

2011-11-13T22:34:00.001-08:00

I've somehow found myself at a party wearing a tiara that says zero on the front all night. Because my Sunday nights make total sense.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Jack Frost Nosing at Your Nip

2011-11-12T12:52:00.000-08:00

I have a feeling that it's going to be a cold winter. I have no facts to base this on, and I don't even have some sort of ache or pain that can forecast weather, as apparently some people do. What is with those weather-related aches and pains? "My goiter is telling me it's going to hail tomorrow!" The Weather Channel should totally have some sort of mascot related to this idea. Like a puppet hip-bone with googly eyes on it that says "I'm aching, so get hip to the fact that we'll have rain tonight, homies!" You know, to relate to today's youth.

I am a font of dumb ideas, you guys. That is just the tip of the iceberg, you have no idea. Or should I say the hip of the iceberg? Haaaaaa.

In other wintery news, this week we pretty much only ate squash. Our CSA box is trying to turn us squashitarian I am pretty sure. I am not complaining though, because it has been tasty times. We have had butternut squash soup, and roasted delicata, and Indian Sweet Meat (dirty!) squash curry. This could get old pretty soon but so far I am loving it. We have also been having a Martha Stewart versus Deborah Madison smackdown each night, since they are our two go-to recipe people these days. So far, Deborah is winning, but Martha is scrappy. She may take over at any moment.

I am not a person who prefers the winter, never have been. This was most unfortunate when I was growing up in Michigan. There is nothing, I am sure, quite like the whine of a child whose parents came from the sunniest awesomeness on earth and ended up in the frozen midwest. Although I am now living in a much milder climate than the one in which I was raised, I am still not a huge fan of the winter months. To combat this, I shall try and list some sweet things that have happened this week that were made all the better because it is butt cold out.

1. Did I mention the squash? Let's start with the squash.
2. I met my friend Crafty Jenny for tea and warm cookies the other night. Mmmm.
3. The moon was full this week and looked so icy and silvery. Beauteous!
4. Our new furnace is rocking my SOCKS, you guys. Apparently our old one was made of ass, because it is so much nicer in our house now.
5. Our new insulated cork bedroom floors are nice and toasty. Makes it so much easier to get up in the morning.

That's all I got for now. But five is a good start right?

Wise Words

2011-11-09T16:30:00.000-08:00

I one hundred percent stoled this from my friend over at Pixel and Post. I love it.

Found at YeeHaw on Etsy.

Extreme Not-a-makeover Home Edition

2011-11-08T16:43:00.000-08:00

First of all, a couple of people called me out on naming anything that is required in the urban Seattle area "winter boots" in my last post. And yes, we seldom need snow gear to tromp around the puddles here, it is true. Maybe I should have called them rain boots. Consider me correcting this, lest you all think that Nordic Boy was sporting a pair of full on mukluks or what have you.
Now that we have gotten that out of the way, let's talk about two things that are basically the same but yet somehow I manage to love one of them and have a strong dislike for the other. The two things? Makeovers and "Before and After" photos.

For some reason, I am not a fan of calling something a makeover. I have no idea why. I must have had a really, really bad makeover in a past life or something. Like, maybe I was me in ancient Egypt and some ancient Egyptian spa person redid my whole look and gave me those Egyptian straight-across bangs and I was all "my forehead is too short for bangs, yo!" Because my forehead really is too short for those kind of bangs. And I assume that forehead dimensions are something that one carries from life to life. If I do really terribly in this life and come back as a dung beetle or something next time around, I assume my beetle cranium will still be equipped with a threehead.

On the other hand, I adore a set of two photos with the title "Before and After" to describe them. Same concept right? You take a picture, you change something up, you take another one. LOVE IT. I love a before and after in fashion, in interior design, in construction, in anything. I love those articles where they show you a photo of how a street looked a hundred years ago and then put the current same street view beside it. It doesn't have to be a before and after of improvement. I just like to see change over time, or circumstance, or effort. I am sure my feelings about the word makeover have something to do with commercialism, in that Charlie-Brown-Christmas sort of way. And the fact that people who do makeovers, especially on tv, seem like condescending buttholes a lot of the time. But let's not get into that, because it's tiresome.

Ever since we moved into our house, I have been in Before and After hog heaven. Nordic Boy is not the greatest at documenting his efforts, so it fell to me, and omg I LOVE IT. I have reams of photos of things that no earthly person besides me and him would ever care to see. Before the new wiring! After the new wiring! Before the caulking! After the caulking! I am not kidding. It is ba-nuts.

I take these photos, and then download them, and sometimes he and I look at them, especially when we look at our list of things still left to do and feel overwhelmed (that's mostly me, not him). It helps to look back and see, wow, actually a lot has happened already.

I feel, about these photos, like I would never subject them to other people. No one cares about our new light fixtures, I think. But then, I see how hard I salivate over other people's befores and afters, and it makes me think: maybe some of these might be fun to share? Ok, not the caulking ones (ha ha, I love saying "caulking"), but some of the other ones?

All this is to preface (SHUT UP AND SHOW THE PHOTOS ALREADY) that I might start putting some befores and afters on the bloggy. Shall I? Yes, I shall.

Let's start with a big one. When we bought our house, let's just say that we had to have a lot of Vision. It had good bones (ha ha, caulking and bones) but the other stuff was super janky. Nordic Boy knew this was our house the moment he laid eyes on it, but me? I sort of knew it, but really, I had to trust Nordic Boy's Vision. I can be Vision-impaired on things like this, especially when there is disrepair and disgusting cat pee carpet and smoke-stained yellow walls and a Jumanji yard.

One of the things that I hated about our house was the fireplace. At that point in time, we had much bigger fish to fry but I complained about that fireplace until Nordic Boy wanted to pitch a fit I am sure. Finally, he asked me what I would like the fireplace to look like. I replied that I didn't think it possible that I could EVER love that thing, no matter what happened. Nordic Boy took serious umbrage to that statement and dropped what he was doing and spent a weekend putting the fireplace problem right. Usually he will draw a picture/plan of what he is thinking so I can see it (due to my lack of Vision) but this time he didn't, and that was ok because I trust his aesthetic, and I trust that he knows mine, and actually those two things have a lot of overlap. Can I just tell you that I can't imagine being with someone who didn't understand my aesthetic? Like, if he all of a sudden wanted all white wicker furniture or something? That would be grounds for dismissal.

Please do not hate me, white wicker lovers. It is just not my thing, but it's ok that it is yours. Go forth and wicker yourself to your heart's content, by all means.

Anyway. Here's what it looked like when we moved in. It was a Pa Ingalls hot mess.

Here it is today.

That is my first before and after. More to come? I think? Maybe next time I shall show you some damn fine caulk.

After the boots of summer have gone

2011-11-07T13:29:00.000-08:00

Monday. Blah. Here's my list of what's in my brain today.

1. I kind of want to do NaBloPoMoBloJoHo (I just like to add that last part on there because I am juvenile), and started to do it last week, but that didn't last very long. I guess I am still trying, if it even makes sense to do that. Just set your expectations way way low on that one though. Dial it all the way down.

2. The weather has turned. The best we can hope for is some blue sky every once in a while, but we know those days are numbered as well. This weekend, Nordic Boy started wearing his winter work boots while doing up his carpentry rigamarole in his shop. "The days for summer boots are gone," he said. Then we sang the chorus of Don Henley's "Boys of Summer" with the words "boots of summer" inserted, because that's how we do around here.

3. I have a new phone. I now need a new phone holder thing. I am having trouble finding one that meets my own personal design specifications. I came back from a shopping trip and Nordic Boy asked me if I found a phone case, and I said I didn't see any that I liked, and he said "I think we're starting up another pencil cup situation here." Because I spent three years looking for a pencil cup that met my aesthetic needs. And I never found one. So I just decided that I didn't need a pencil cup. And Nordic Boy never once said to me "IT IS JUST A PENCIL CUP GET OVER IT." Because he knows a battle that can't be won, plus he is nice to me like, all the time. Anyway, maybe I can just be really careful with my new phone?

4. I spent part of my weekend browsing some stores for wintery clothes. I have trouble with wintery clothes, mainly because I am not a fan of bulk, but I am also not a fan of being cold. My solution to this problem has been to just wear summer/spring/fall clothes which solves the bulk issue but doesn't solve the being cold issue. Between this and the pencil cup thing and the phone case thing I really find myself unbearable sometimes. It does save me money though, since impulse buying is sort of out.

5. Biogirl and I had a full on therapy session over the weekend about the remakes of Dirty Dancing and Footloose. In the conversation the following phrase was said: "YOU SIR, are no Kevin Bacon!" I think we can all adopt that phrase in a multitude of situations.

6. Biogirl, who has been coveting the Norm-in-Cheers status of "regular" for many years, finally got her wish at the brunch joint we frequent. We go there almost weekly, so it's about bloody time they recognize us. They knew her name! And what she wanted to order! It was a grand day in her life. I was glad to be there to witness.

7. We had dinner with our friends HVDM and her husband J. Afterward, we came over to my house and played Outburst. I was seriously off my game and this was evidenced by the following. I could not name all ten Robert Redford movies on the dang card, and I couldn't name off ten Shakespeare plays. What the eff, me? I might as well have forgotten the alphabet as far as I am concerned.

8. I finally signed up for pinterest. Let me know if you're on it too and I'll follow you.

9. It was Alli's birthday yesterday. There are a few things that make me feel melancholy around this time of year, and not being there for Alli's birthday is always one of them. We always did birthday shenanigans when we were kids! How dare she grow up and move away! Wait, that was me that moved away. I hate it when I have to blame myself for my own whining.

10. YOU SIR are no Kevin Bacon! I just wanted to say that again.

The Ultimate Reminder

2011-11-03T14:20:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at my desk at work, juggling too many things. Too many windows open on my desk top, too many lists going on at once. An IM pops up on my screen. As I chat with my co-worker, I realize I have forgotten to do something for her that I said I would do.

"Poop!" I think to myself.

I turn to write down, on my to-do list, this thing that I should do for my co-worker. I write it down, only I don't write down what the task is. Instead I write down what I had said to myself in my head. Which was, let us reiterate: "Poop!"

I wrote Poop on my to-do list.

A few minutes later, I looked at my to-do list and realized what I did. It totally looks as though I had to make a note to myself to remind myself to do a deuce.

The classiness just blows you away, don't it?

Merce-y Me

2011-11-02T19:54:00.000-07:00

Last week, Nordic Boy and I went to see the Merce Cunningham Legacy Tour. How to describe Merce Cunningham to non-dancey folks? That's a tough one. Let's just say that he was super prolific, his work was super brilliant, and to probably most people out there, his stuff is very, very deeply weird.

If you know something about ballet, and modern, and how they started to mush all together in the mid-twentieth centrury, Merce is totally fascinating. Where he took ideas about collaboration and autonomy of form and musicality (or lack thereof) can boggle a mind for sure. I happen to enjoy his work on its face, but I also enjoy it almost more for the ideas he's executing. I feel, when I watch his work, the same way that I feel reading a really dense piece of literature. It makes my brain hurt with everything that is going on- so many levels, it's just OUCH. I want a rewind button so I can go over parts of it again and again to figure it out, much like re-reading a passage in a book because the first time it's just WUT. In a good way.

I have a thing I do when I see dance in person, on tv, wherever. If I am engaged in what's happening, I sit on the edge of my seat, literally. I lean forward and stare. It's annoying I am quite sure. But I don't think there is anything on earth that makes me pay more attention than watching a kick ass dance. And Merce has me in that state.

That said, if you don't know what you're looking at, or even if you do, his shit is wacko looking. I would fully expect people to watch it and roll their eyes and giggle. I don't blame you, really. It looks strange. The music is strange. If I didn't know what I know, I would think it was coo coo for cocoa puffs.

When we were at the show last week, there were these two ladies that were sitting behind us, and I don't know what they thought they were there to see, but clearly they weren't expecting the nutty cha cha that was in process in front of their faces. After each piece, there would be a short pause, maybe of about 5 minutes. During this five minutes, these two ladies, who were apparently raised in the school of If You Can't Say Something Nice Don't Say a Goddamn Thing, tried to find something nice to say. The first pause went like this.

Lady #1: Well.
Lady #2: Yes. Well.
Lady #1: I, um. That was interesting.
Lady #2: Yes. Yes it was.
Lady #1: I thought the costumes were cute.
Lady #2: Me too! Definitely.

The costumes, let me point out, were plain off-white unitards. That is it. Pause #2?

Lady #1: Wow, that was just... great.
Lady #2: Sure. It really was.
Lady #1: They really must have to train a lot, huh?
Lady #2: I'm sure they do. Did you see their calves?

Calves. And costumes. You could just hear the strain in their voices. They wanted to yell out WHAT THE EFF AM I LOOKING AT, THESE PEOPLE LOOK LIKE THEY ARE HAVING FITS, but they were too refined for that. It was adorbs. I sort of loved those ladies.

During the show, there were a couple of points where I too reached my limit of weird. I can sustain a lot of weird, but Merce got me twice. Here's how.

First of all, there was a soprano who accompanied the first piece, and she was singing some crazy shit. It was like free jazz, only more free. No melody, no words. There was high, low, gutteral, and everything in between. She even had sound effects with her- she held up a jack in the box to her microphone at one point, and honked a horn at another point. It was kooky, but I was into the dance, it didn't matter. Go crazy, kooky lady, I can handle this. Until a really weird sound came over the mic, and I was like oh no she isn't, and I looked over and people! She was straight up GARGLING into the microphone. Holding a cup of water, head tipped back, holding a gargly note.

My weirdometer broke on that one. To paraphrase Meatloaf: I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR DANCE, BUT I CAN'T DO THAT.

I could not go with the gargling.

The second time my concentration was breached was during a point where a bunch of dancers were out on stage, jumping in a disjointed manner, all separate and deceptively random. The music was also dissonant and random, with sounds that included car horns and doorbells. Nordic Boy leaned up to me, in all my seated-at-the-edge-of-my-chair seriousness, and whispered: "Oh we are so doing this dance when we get home." Dudes, it was FUNNY. It was like when Jerry Seinfeld put his Pez dispenser on his knee at the piano show and Elaine got the giggles. I was Elaine. I am sure all the fancy dance people were appalled.

Anyway, despite these things, I loved the show. RIP, Merce. Thanks for the intellectually, artistically challenging wackness.

Consumables #51

2011-11-01T21:27:00.000-07:00

I have never really understood it when people have told me that they lose touch with someone close to them, and then they just keep putting off and putting off calling them or sending them an email because it's been so long that they feel all this pressure to explain where they have been and to catch them up on every last thing that has happened in the interim, which will take a long time, and so then they put it off some more, and on and on. So much pressure we put on ourselves, people! There is enough pressure out there. Don't pile more on. Just get in touch with that person and say hey, what's up? I miss you. Also, lots of stuff has happened, but we'll get to that eventually. How are you?

If you promise to work on that one, I promise to work on one of my neuroses. Like how I sometimes think I talk too much. (Let's not all point to this bloggy as evidence that my powers of motor-mouthing might not be an unwarranted fear).

All of that is to say that I feel like I haven't done a Consumable in a while (like a whole month, egads) and rather than try to do a laundry list of all of the totality of the sum of everything for the past month, I'll just give you some greatest hits.

Bookth!

Nanjing Requiem, by Ha Jin

Hey, want to know what a horrifying time and place is? Nanjing, China in 1937, that's when. Ha Jin tells the fictionalized story of the for-real person named Minnie Vautrin, an American woman who worked as the dean of a college in Nanjing who ends up running a refugee shelter for more than 10,000 women and children during the town's invasion and afterwards. Jin's writing is his usual spare, straightforward language- no stylizing it up. To some this might seem like he's treating the subject too clinically- showing us what happened, period. To others, this style may hit the right chord of documentary-like candor. I felt both ways about it, which is so typical and tiresome of me, I know.

Hark! A Vagrant!, by Kate Beaton

Kate Beaton rocks it with her comics, for sure. She does funny commentary on everything from Jane Austen to Disraeli to Wonder Woman. She does make me feel terribly guilty that I don't understand the comics that have to do with Canadian politics. How is it that I know so little about Canadian politics? I feel like I know about politics. I even feel like I know about world politics. But yet, I realize with the Canucks, I have been remiss. I know NOTHING, it seems. I am that horrible neighbor who doesn't know what is going on right next door. So my reading her book went like this: ha ha! Funny! What does that one mean GUILT GUILT. Ha ha! Good one! Is that a Canadian politician? I have no idea who that is GUILT GUILT. So you should totally read it, just don't be like me, meaning (a) don't be a dumbass about Canada, and (b) if you are, don't sit there and feel bad about it the whole time.

In the TeeVee!

The Walking Dead

I really want the storyline to move faster. Too slow, zombies! I think I would enjoy this more if I waited for them on Netflix or whatever and just watched them all in a row.

Movies!

The Sorceror's Apprentice was on tv the other day, and I didn't even watch it but it brought me joy as any reference to this movie always does, because it reminds me of the time that Alli's husband Chris called it "The Wizard's Intern." Hee!

Fuel

Documentary about energy production, and hey, it ain't depressing. I know this deviates from my usual diet of depressing documentaries, but everyone's got to break out of the mold sometimes.

The Thin Man

I watched this one again and it's still awesome. Nick was such a boozehound, wasn't he? And Nora with her ridiculously fancy dressing gowns. And the repartee, so loverly.

Could that really be it for anything that I want to say about my month? I guess so.

Laters, my pretties!

Hallowon't

2011-10-31T13:28:00.000-07:00

Here is what I have decided about Halloween. I love it when I can make decisions on things.

What I have decided is that I love costumes. Love them. On other people. I feel like I want to love them for me, but I really actually don't love them for me though, which for a long time now I have been fighting with myself about. Costumes bring together many things that I love in my life: art, creativity, humor, spooky aesthetics! I should, in theory, be all over this holiday. But yet, every year I find myself doing something lame like wearing a regular everyday 60s-ish wrap-dress, slapping on a fake nametag and calling it a flight attendant costume. I go to costume parties dressed pretty much like myself but trying to call it something else. I am so that person. I don't know why, but coming up with a costume idea is torture for me, let alone dedicating time to getting something together.

My friends go all out for Halloween, and throw the type of parties that are not costume-optional. You wear a costume, mandatory. Bossy friends I have, I know, but thems the breaks. So this year, you know what I did? I stayed home. It was kind of sad that I missed the fun (omg can you believe I just tried to pull that? To make you feel sorry for me on that stupid crap?), but I just couldn't be Half-Ass Halloweener this year. Throw in the fact that getting Nordic Boy into a costume can only be described as an annual "being a good sport but honestly could so totally do without this shit" situation and really. What is the point.

So, this Saturday we eschewed all invites (and the count on Halloween parties was really high this year so we felt extra Scroogey) and stayed home and watched movies. GOD WE ARE OLD FOGEYS.

Other fun activities this weekend included attending a Diwali party, hanging out with Delium, helping our friend A move her furniture to her new digs, and spending lots of cozy time (it is getting to be a tit bit nippley outside, dudes, winter is coming) under a blanket on the couch with my dude.

Oh, and the highlight of it all was going to the Nordic Heritage Museum to see their Nordic Fashion Exhibit. I have many things I could say about this exhibit but I shall limit to three things. One: the clothes were awesome. Go Nordics! Two: there are other exhibits that are also awesome, having to do with Nordic immigration to this country. However, those exhibits had lots of mannequins in sort of diorama-type situations (is it still called a diorama if it is life-size?) which made me really really glad that I did not have to spend the night inside the museum Ben Stiller style because those dioramas coming to life? GAH. Creepfest. Three: we got there and the ticket lady told us we were more than welcome to take photos which made me grumpy that I hadn't brought my camera to play with, so here are some phone camera shots instead.

Unbirthday

2011-10-26T09:55:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I went to a super fun dinner party where we ate soup and told scary stories and played a rousing game of Celebrity (which our team, named Syphilitic Spam because apparently we are disgusting people, totes won). I have been a little out of the party loop lately (my policy of saying "yes" to invitations was getting sloppy, I admit it, but I have a new furnace and my house is co-zizzy these days) but the upside of hibernating for a short while is to show up at something and remember all over again how awesome my pals are. Look at that! Cool people! If only I remember to leave my house! My say yes policy has been refreshed. Plus I got to do a Bruce Lee in charades whereby I kicked my leg up and maybe showed the party goers my bloomers. So that's always fun.

On Saturday and Sunday I was treated to not one but two brunches by different friends. I also spent Saturday having a full hangout day with Biogirl, which is one of my most favorite things evah. We browsed DSW and went for gelato and looked at purses and jewelries and got stuck in traffic (yes, even the traffic part was fun) and then joined Nordic Boy for dinner where he told us a long involved story about bad home improvement that had us in stitches. That dude is funny, you guys. Sunday Nordic Boy and I hung out with our dear Delium. Delium is delightful and I shall provide an example. He told me that he had been at our house the day before, eating lunch with Nordic Boy. During the lunch, he said that he had, along with his sandwich, a dill pickle EVENT. The event was that we didn't have his favorite brand of dill pickles. We had some other brand. And our brand? Was totally acceptable! I am totally delighted by the fact that this story was (a) drawn out into an actual story and (b) was labeled an EVENT. He is not one to shy away from making! everything! exciting! I love it.

I had sort of let go of the idea of birthdayness this year, happily so. There were too many other more important things going on that needed attention, and cheerleading for my own birthday has gotten a little tiresome in the past few years (I try not to be annoyed by my own self, but it's hard). But even without me pushing the idea of overt birthdayness, it was a good month. Biogirl went all out for me, which was delightful, but she always goes all out for me. Overall, nothing was a big departure from non-birthday months, but that is totally the beauty of it. I felt loved this month, the same as I do other months. I'll stick with that plan over the long haul, if I'm lucky.

Reunited

2011-10-24T18:46:00.000-07:00

We can Peaches and Herb it, y'all! My camera and I were REUNITED on Thursday evening! It was at a restaurant I had been at a few days before. I still feel like a fecking eejit about it so let's just pretend it never happened, ok? That would be wunderbar.

Let's looky at some photos of the day that Alli, Map, Biogirl and I went to Whidbey Island. We saw sand, and dang it was windy, and there was pie, and we came upon a group of crazy-serious older gents who were way into their remote control toy sailboats. Oh my it was eventful.

I seriously did NOT just do that

2011-10-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

Hey you guys, I figured out how to make my heart stop and my stomach feel barfy and horrible, just from stress! Want to hear about it?

I have many potential stressors in my life, as does everyone. Lucky for me, I don't have a stressy constitution, just naturally. The daily stuff like bad traffic or rude people or getting a bad night's sleep? Piece of cake. The things that cause me the most stress in my life are the Biggies. Like when I was pretty sure that I was going to get laid off last year. But the stress of that sort of thing was not a heart-pounding, barfy sort of stress. I think it was because that shit (waiting for the news) went on and on and on, for months. I just couldn't sustain barfy for that long. The stress was more an impending sense of doom in the back of my mind at all times. Still stressful and probably not healthy, but I never felt like I was going to pass out or anything. Same with family members going through Big Health stuff. Again, it goes on for months and sometimes years, so the stress gets stretched out.

So this morning I was getting ready for work, and all of a sudden I had this thought: where the mothereffer is my new camera? My gorgeous, lovely, brand new, super expensive very generous gift that I got not two weeks ago?

And I looked around, and didn't see it, and then the barfy feelings became SERIOUS, y'all. I mean, really. It was ACUTE PUKEY.

I asked Nordic Boy if he'd seen it. He said nope. Then we proceeded to tear our house apart. It was like a police raid up in there. I went outside in my pajamas and looked in the trunk of my car. We looked in every closet, every room, every shelf.

Here's the thing about my house. It's small. And we don't have very much stuff. Which means that it's kind of impossible to misplace things. If it's not pretty much immediately apparent, then it's just not there.

MY CAMERA IS JUST NOT THERE PEOPLE.

I retraced my steps. Tried to remember the last time I took it out. Tried not to think about the fact that Nordic Boy and my parents forked over a lot of scratch for something that I promptly lost in a matter of days.

Here is my recipe for panic: an extravagant item, bought by other people, for me, a bonafide cheapskate, and I misplace it. TORTURE.

I know I had it in my house on Saturday night. And I think I took it with me to a restaurant on Sunday. I'm calling the restaurant when it opens today and PLEASE BABY JEBUS make my camera be there. Because if I really truly lost that thing?

OY.

Big League Pals

2011-10-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

They came, we laughed, they left. Here are some highlights.

1. Alli was on some sort of nostalgic gum kick all weekend. She emerged from my neighborhood convenience store with a bag of Big League Chew, which is sort of disgusting, you guys, despite our memories to the contrary. And then she bought us Fruit Stripe gum. I don't know what was up with all the kiddie gum, but shee-yoot. Certain childhood foods? Are FOUL.

2. We got into a whole thing about bad euphemisms that are used in romance novels for man junk, and I brought up the one that was discovered in a book at a beach house I rented once: "man root." The hilarity that ensued for Map about this term was boundless. It was all "man root" this, and "man root" that for the rest of the trip. I am so glad I brought that joy into her life.

3. Somehow, the question of what one would most like to bathe in, if one had to bathe in a food or beverage, came up. As it does. We pretty much agreed that chocolate pudding is what you want in that sort of a scenario. Feel free to steal that idea if the situation is ever presented to you. Our think tank has done all the brain work on that. You're welcome.

4. Map's birthday is in September, mine is in October, and Alli's is in November. We called up Alli's sister Steph and ordered us up one of Steph's much touted birthday songs. I have been hearing about these improvised birthday songs for a long time, but have never been given the gift. Oh. My. I wish I had audio to share with you. Steph did a sultry jazz number on speaker phone for us that consisted of the words "Happy Buhth-day, choo shoo choo" that almost made me puke laughing. It went on for a few minutes, and as soon as it was over, Steph's foreign exchange student apparently came into the room to ask if she was ok. You know a song is freaking awesome if people think you are injured while it's happening.

5. Nordic Boy and the three of us got our major dance on playing Just Dance on the Wii. If I had an exchange student I am fairly sure they would have skipped asking us if we were ok and just called 911.

6. In the morning when I heard Alli and Map were awake, I would slip out of my bed and go crawl into theirs, and we would talk ourselves awake. There are three people in the world I have done that with consistently in my life, and they were all in my house this weekend.

7. We took the ferry to Whidbey for an afternoon with Biogirl, and having my three favorite ladies all together made me really, really happy.

8. I dropped them both off at the airport on Monday and pretty much cried all the way home. I grew up with them five minutes away, and the fact that they are so far away now? I don't think I will ever, ever get used to that.

I'm Coming Over

2011-10-14T08:18:00.000-07:00

I remember this night, when I was in high school, when I had a big paper due for English class the next day, and I hadn't even started it yet. This was totally and completely how I treated every assignment in high school so I don't know why I particularly remember this night. It was like 9 or 10pm, and my friend Map called me. I sat on my bedroom floor, looking at my notes as I talked to her. Let me try and recreate the very eloquent conversation we had.

Her: What are you doing?
Me: I have to do that fucking paper for tomorrow.
Her: Have you started it?
Me: Nope.
Her: I'm coming over.

About a month or two ago, I was feeling lonesome. I couldn't really put my finger on what I was lonesome for, since I have friends and peeps and lovelies all around. I happened to put on my Facebook page that I was feeling that way, like an ambiguous lonesome Bat signal. You know what happened? Within an hour, Alli and Map, all the way from Chicago and suburban Detroit, responded by saying, essentially: "We're coming over."

By the end of that day, a date was set, plane tickets were bought, and that was that. Vague sense of lonliness: over and out. I love those two. Love, love, love them.

Last weekend, when Nordic Boy had to hop on a plane in a hurry, I called up Alli and Palindrome and told them: Nordic Boy will be landing at O'Hare. He might need you. Get ready if he needs to come over.

Then Biogirl came over and took me to Portland. When I got back, I sat in my house and worried about Nordic Boy. Delium called me up and said: I'm coming over. While he was here, my friend M showed up at my door with a box of fancy macaroons to cheer me up and wish me a happy birthday, totally unexpected.

Look at all that I'm Coming Over-ness. It's kind of amazing.

This got me thinking about the whole idea of telling someone you're coming over. Completely uninvited, but so confident in the mutual love that you know that the other person would like nothing more than your barging in. I have a few people in my life that I do that with, and I know that I'm lucky about that. I have a few more that I wish I could do that with, but I'm not confident about that mutual love thing, so I don't. Maybe I should be braver, but it's hard.

Anyway. I'm going to pick up Alli and Map at the airport today. If you get a minute, think about your "I'm coming over" people. Aren't they awesome?

In My Fashion

2011-10-11T01:26:00.000-07:00

Many fabulous things happened on my birthday weekend. One, Nordic Boy and my parents chipped in to buy me a new, fancy (well, fancy to me) camera. I AM IN HOT SWEATY LOVE WITH IT.

Unfortunate downside is that I have become a person who only looks at other people or myself like this.

Thusly, now I will likely run off at the mouth AND at the lens at you. Aren't you so excited?

Another downside is that I may think it would be really fun to take America's Next Top Model style photo shoots where I practice my Kim Kardashian poses, and I may force you to play along with me. And then I may fuck up the whole thing by not yet understanding how to work the damn fancy camera.

All of the coerced posing and silly blue steel faces! For what? For a nice clear look at a table top surface. Clearly I am a photographic genius.

The second awesome thing about the weekend was that Biogirl swept me off my feet to Portland and we went to the final runway show of Portland Fashion Week. What's that you say? Do I have photos? Oh mais oui.

The whole thing was in a shipyard. I kept looking for Frank Sebotka everywhere.

If you haven't ever been to a runway show before, here's my advice. Before they open the doors to seating, try to position yourself somewhere where you can see the models practicing their walks. Catching a glimpse of designer's assistants (often nerdy looking dudes) coaching them a la Miss J is worth the price of admission.

My other advice is that there are basically two places you can be for the best view. One is the front row. You have to be a high roller for that though, or be some sort of celebrity, or both. At this show, the most fascinating character we spotted was this Sam-Elliot-in-The-Big-Lebowski guy sitting front row center. He was surrounded on both sides, as well as in the row behind him, by young fashionista ladies. They were fawning all over him. Who was that guy?

Biogirl and I concocted a whole backstory about him. We'd like to think that he is a high end leather wholesaler and that he is close personal friends with Stella Who Loves Leathah from Project Runway.

The second best place to be is the cheap seats. I am totally not just saying that because that's where you will definitely find me. I am saying it because it's really the best place to see everything. The"cheap seats" will get you the privilege of standing behind the back row of chairs, smooshed in where there is hardly any room at all and you will have to watch yourself or you may just fall off the back of the riser upon which you are precariously standing. Whoever said fashion is not comfort was someone who was standing in the back row. But truly it is the best because you can see right over everyone's head.

Anyway, here are some shots.

The whole thing was just delicious, I can't even tell you. Biogirl: birthday saver. As well as a mean catwalker herself.

One more serious one and then I am done I swear

2011-10-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

So after the sad events I wrote about yesterday, I've been thinking, and I have to tell you guys something. I have a fear about my blog and it is this: I am afraid that the way I seem to react to Bad Stuff happening will make people think I am a horrible person. Like, remember last year on my birthday when my dad had to go to the hospital, and there really wasn't anything I could do about it, so after I talked to my family and we all agreed on that much, I went ahead and attended my birthday party anyway? When I told you guys about that, I was afraid that I sounded callous. Who goes to a party and has fun when their dad is in the hospital? I do. And I worry that people will think less of me for it. I know I am doing what feels right to me. But that still doesn't allay my fear that other people won't get that. Still being able to see my pals, go to work, genuinely smile soon after some serious shit has gone down? Who does that? A crazy person? A terrible person? Hopefully not. Hopefully it's just a person who's trying to cope.

All of this is to say that after Nordic Boy left yesterday and a morning of me being weepy, I took a breath and went about my day, and it was a good day in my awesome life, and I still want to tell you about that. I went out to a lunch with Biogirl where we talked for two hours, and cried in the restaurant (sorry for freaking you out, waitstaff), and peed ourselves laughing too. And then I went into work last night and had an super sweet time watching hundreds of teenagers screaming for their favorite author, who we hosted, and come on, what could be more joyful than seeing teens go bonkers for reading? And today Biogirl and I are heading out of town for the weekend, to try to salvage birthdayness for me. What is happening with Nordic Boy and Joel is going to be in my mind the whole time, but I have developed, over a long time of working on it, a way to simultaneously feel joy too. Am I horrible for soldiering on with birthday nonsense when heartbreaking circumstances are occurring? When I get back on Monday and show you guys pictures and such of the awesome, are you all going to be like "hey wow, she was talking about someone dying on Friday and she's talking about this ridiculousness not two days later?"

I have a huge fear that you'll think that. And I guess I can't control it if you do. But even if you do, somewhere in your mind, even as you think it, please try to be generous with me as well. I'm not selfish and terrible, I promise you. I'm just trying to deal.

Showing Up

2011-10-07T08:35:00.000-07:00

Nordic Boy knew this kid named Joel when he was little. The two of them are related- cousins of some sort, but in a distant sort of way. I wouldn't call what they had a friendship, exactly. They were acquaintances, who knew the same people. They went to the same school for a while, but weren't in the same grade. Nordic Boy's sister was closer in age and knew this kid better. Nordic Boy remembers Joel as a nutty little rugrat who made people laugh. He also remembers that when he got to high school, he turned into a quieter, more serious person. After high school, Joel joined the Navy and ended up as a cook on a submarine. In recent years, he moved back to Wisconsin, got married, and now is a dad to nutty rugrats of his own. Nordic Boy hasn't seen him in many, many years.

Last night, Nordic Boy's mom called us to tell us that Joel hasn't been feeling well lately. He went to the doctor and seven tumors were found throughout his body, including in his brain and pressing onto his spine. Within the last week, his body has begun to shut down. His speech is intermittent and he can no longer walk. The doctor has give him three weeks to live, tops. Just like that. He had just gotten a new job, and his insurance hasn't kicked in yet. Hi wife and his kids are with him while he's spending his last weeks in the hospital.

Nordic Boy got off the phone, and told what happened. We didn't need to say much. I immediately knew what Nordic Boy was thinking, because I know what sort of person my Nordic Boy is.

Within an hour, he had booked a flight, and early this morning, he was on a plane to see Joel, and to help his family in any way that he can. My guy isn't a person who waits for a funeral to show up to honor someone.

Today is my birthday, and I couldn't feel better about the fact that my birthday plans are altered, and that I spent the morning rushing to the airport and saying goodbye to the person I would most like to spend the day with. I feel like my present is that I am reminded, yet again, of how amazing people can be. One person in particular.

Comeback Kid

2011-10-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

It would be totally fair to say that I live in a cushy environment compared to the majority of the planet. I am not super wealthy, but I have all that a person needs. I have education, and am healthy, and get vacation time, and can buy Funyons whenever I want to, really. (When I was little, my parents didn't buy us junk food, unless it was like, our birthday or something. So I only got Funyons if I was throwing a party, which forever after makes me think of them as a Super Fancy Snack). I also have surrounded myself with hip friends and we all live our progressive lives with our do-gooder activities and our artistic pursuits and our sophisticated opinions. However, I just have to tell you this. Some racist shit happens to me on a daily basis. A DAILY BASIS. Not exaggerating. I know you probably know this stuff happens all the time to the melanin-blessed. But there is always a part of me that wonders if those who don't experience this really, really know this. Sometimes it is all I can do to not live my whole life starting conversations with the words: "You are not going to BELIEVE the shit that just went down five minutes ago!" And then regaling everyone with the details. Because I know that that is boring. And would get old fast.
But I just have to tell you this one. Because it's awful, but funny.

I was going down an escalator and the up escalator was directly adjacent. So as the people on the down escalator make their way down, they almost brush shoulders with the people who are going up. So on this trip down, this white dude is traveling towards me. And just as we pass each other, side by side, him facing up and me facing down, he turns his head toward my ear and whispers the following.

"Kamasutra, babeeeeeee."

And I keep heading down, not looking back, and he keeps heading up.

Come on, people. OUT OF BOUNDS.

Anyway, I told Biogirl about this, and she said: "You should have turned to him and whispered back: 'Pilgrim's Progress, babeeeeeee.'"

SERIOUSLY. I should have said that. That girl is a genius.

Alrighty then

2011-10-04T13:43:00.000-07:00

In the past few days, I keep having conversational trip-ups with semi-strangers. It's fun.

First of all, there's a guy that I see pretty much every day at the coffee shop near work. And you know what he says to me every day? "Alriiiight." Either that or "good, good." He says this when it makes sense:

Him: Hey, how's it going?
Me: Great, and you?
Him: Alriiiiiight.

He also says it when it doesn't make sense:

Him: Hey, it's Friday! Do you have to work this weekend?
Me: Yes. How about you?
Him: Alriiiiiight.

I have started to try to ask him all sorts of questions, to see if I can get him to answer with anything other than alriiiiight, or good, good. So far, he has not broken his streak.

I also walked into the salon the other day (ok fine it was the place where I get my waxing done but I didn't want to mention waxing and be disgusting), and the lady at the counter, who I thought sort of knows me, said "Hey Sigourney!" I thought she was talking to someone else, so I didn't say anything back. "Sigourney! Hi!" she persisted. I looked at her sort of blankly and so she says: "Oh my gosh, I am so embarrassed. Do you not pronounce the "g" in your name?"

First of all, people who are not Sigourney Weaver are actually named Sigourney? That is awesome. And second of all, there are people named Sigourney who do not pronounce the "g"? That's a thing? So what would it be? Si-hoorny? As in 2LiveCru Me So Hoorny?

Anyway. So I said "I'm sorry. You must have me mixed up with someone else."
Her: No I don't! Ha ha! You come here all the time! What do you mean?
Me: Um, well, that's not my name.
Her: But. Oh. But, you look just like her!

So hey gang. I have a doppleganger out there somewhere named Sihoorny.

Alriiiiiight. Good, good.

Holy Saturday!

2011-10-03T09:41:00.000-07:00

Oh Saturday, you were simple and sweet. 4 things was all it took.

1. Nordic Boy continues to make holes in our house.

Here is what I have learned. Home improvement revolves around one basic series of actions. Making holes and then covering them up. Almost any project, from installing a new dishwasher to rewiring electrical requires some sort of making/uncovering of a hole (in a wall, a floor, a ceiling), doing the bulk of the work, and then patching up the hole. I guess not everything (painting does not require hole making), but almost everything. It has gotten to the point where I ask Nordic Boy what he's doing and 9 times out of 10 he will answer by starting a sentence with "First, I am going to make a hole in..." I feel like my house is in a state of constant perforation. So Saturday morning, we started our day by patching up new holes (in new vents that work with our new furnace). Not a week goes by without some sort of hole work.

His Holiness.

2. We continued our morning by me getting other stuff done while he went to the basement to patch up another post-furnace hole. Every time I wanted to talk to him I had only to walk into the laundry and look down.

Flashing the horns and making silly faces is key to hole patching.

3. After lunch we headed to the burbs to have cupcakes and tea at our friend M and S's gorgeous house. It could not have been more delightful.

Trees, tea, cupcakes, friends, dogs, cat, backyard chickens, gorgeous house = perfection.

4. After a post cupcake trip to the hardware store, we headed over to Biogirl's for a cozy dinner, where she regaled us with stories about the previous night when she went dancing at a Moby show (because she is a young whippersnapper) but had to stop and stretch mid-booty shake in the middle of the dance floor (because she's not THAT young of a whippersnapper).

Consumables #50

2011-09-30T15:00:00.000-07:00

I have done 50 of these mothereffers? That seems nuts.

In honor of the 50th Consumables post, I will write up something, well, pretty paltry this week. I don't know what I have even been doing lately, but it hasn't been very pop culturey, that's for damn sure. So fifty! Woo! Way to celebrate it with a flaccid post!

Books
The Leftovers, by Tom Perrotta
One day, 25% of the world population just disappears. It's like The Rapture, only people aren't all entirely sure it was actually The Rapture. People sort of don't know what to think. In the suburban town of Mapleton, we see the aftermath of this mass disappearance. People deal with it in a bunch of different ways, as evidenced by the main family at the center of the story: the dad does his best to buck up and move forward, sort of blindly. The mom makes grief the center of her life. The college age son dedicates his life to a self-help guru gone amok. The teen daughter shuts down and rebels. So basically, all things that people tend to do with loss, Rapture or no Rapture. Essentially it's about the ways we all abandon each other, physically and metaphorically. And sometimes it's about the ways that we don't.

In the TeeVee
I watch Dancing with the Stars in the following way. If there is a dance number where it is all professionals and no celebrities, I watch that part. If there are a few minutes of rehearsal footage I watch that. I watch about 15-20 seconds of each celebrity dance number, just to get the gist of it (or, as my friend's father likes to mispronounce: the jizz of it. And no, I am not making that up, he really says that and no one can get over their embarrassment to tell him that he's saying it wrong). I don't watch anything the judges say. I don't watch anything the hosts say. Every two hour episode takes me about 15 minutes to watch, my finger poised directly on the fast forward button all the while. And yet, I feel like I am pretty much getting the full experience of that show. It's like I am watching the au jus of the show, I guess.

Music
I keep having dreams about Chicago this week. The town, not the band. No offense, Peter Cetera.

That is all. Have a loverly weekend!

Slow Down Chicago, by Canasta

Only You Can Prevent Reading This

2011-09-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

I have been waiting for a time when I have ten minutes to write a blog post, and the universe around me has said HA HA, YOU WOULD LIKE TEN MINUTES? FIE ON YOUR TEN MINUTES. So I am going to write a sentence or two as fast as I can type and poop it out on the interwebs in as much time as I can squeeze out right now.

First I tell you that the bar for blog writing in my life is set at a very high ten effing minutes, and then I liken it to dropping a deuce. Why, you are probably asking yourself, are you blog friends with me again? Only you can answer that question, just as only you can prevent forest fires.

Smokey the Bear, was your grammar correct? Is it really only ME that can prevent forest fires? Wouldn't it be more correct to say "it is up to each of us to prevent forest fires?" Or something like that? Smokey, you had a lot of nerve talking to me like that when I was a child and had never even fricking SEEN a forest.

In other old commercial news, I have a confession to make. Sometimes, just sometimes, I still do that thing from that old beer commercial, where I say "what's up," or rather "WAZ AAAAAHHHHHHP," and if you say it back to me, I am delighted. DELIGHTED.

Yes, I do feel an appropriate level of shame on this front.

And (as a former boss of mine used to say) SECONDIVELY, I have been having a really nice last few days.

Lovely blog friend @metaleah and her trophy husband (1) came through my town on their way to Astoria, Oregon, (aka the land of The Goonies) where they (2) attended a wedding and (3) found a pirate treasure map with Corey Feldman. Ok maybe they only did 2 out of three of those things. We had dinner and I managed to not say WAZ AAAAHHHP at any point or guilt them about forest fires. I probably said some other foolishness but hey, you can't have everything. @metaleah also came to my place of bidnass, which was grand. Two visits in one short weekend! I felt special. I also had a lovely bruncheon with my friend M. where we agreed that cupcakes should be an acceptable form of currency. I accomplish things when I socialize, because I am a doer.

Lastly I just have to tell you that in the past couple of days all of our heating dreams were realized when we got a new furnace. It is easily the biggest thing that has happened to us for a long while, as evidenced by the fact that I have taken pictures of it and shown it to people who have clearly not asked me to see such a thing. Some people show photos of their kids, some people show photos of their vacations. I trap people with furnace photos. The only reason I am not showing you is because I don't have time to put the pictures in here. So for you, there's a bright side to this whole thing.

That's all I got. Hope you are having a lovely week!

My best conversation yesterday

2011-09-22T17:02:00.000-07:00

A text conversation between me and my 6-year-old niece. I'll call her Asha.

Her:

Her: Ashs

Me: What am I looking at?

Her:

Her: Asha

Her:

Her: Asha

Me: What is the photo of?

Her: A wolf

Me: What is it made of?

Her: That I made

Her: Paper towel and tape

Me: Nice! Very cool.

Her: Thank you

Her: By

Me: Bye!

Her: I m going

Her: By

Me: Ok, bye.

Her:

Her: Asha

Her:

Me: Hey! I thought we were done! ha ha

Her: By

Her: By

Her: By

Me: Bye!

Always

2011-09-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

These things happened, in this order, within the past few days.

1. The Soggy Librarian said that she often gets the song "Always" by Atlantic Starr stuck in her head. As you do.

2. I responded by telling her that I once sang, with a boy named Brian, a duet version of that very song in 10th grade choir. I know, I just get cooler and cooler the more you get to know me, right?

3. I began to think about the fact that a boy had chosen (because we chose this song ourselves and auditioned that shit. We were not assigned to sing it) to sing the words "come with me, my sweet, let's go make a family," in front of everyone we knew when we were 15. Because that's not weird.

4. I received an email today from THAT SAME BRIAN KID. Who is not a kid anymore, obvs. He just said something totally nice like "hey, you popped into my head this week. How are you?, etc." And also "I think I remember that we sang a duet in school but can't recall the year or the song. Maybe you can enlighten me or set me straight."

5. I began to believe that uttering the words "Atlantic Starr" brings back people from your past. Sort of like a light R&B Beetlejuice.

Say Atlantic Starr and see who pops back into your life. It's SCIENCE, you guys.

Decisions

2011-09-19T10:21:00.000-07:00

At the Mac make-up counter.*

Saleslady who looks like Katy Perry: Can I help you with something?
Me: I was just trying to decide between these two colors. Charcoal or dark brown. I just can't decide which one to try. (Holding the samples next to my skin) What do you think?
Katy Perry: Well, that depends on what you want to use it for.
Me: Yes, how do you mean?
Katy Perry: Well, it depends on whether you want grey. Or brown.

She said that to me without a STITCH of sarcasm, people.

Me: Ok, yes. Thanks.

So I just wanted to pass along that piece of advice to you, if you ever are trying to decide between choice A and choice B. You should make that decision based on one thing and that thing is: whether you want the choice to be A, or whether you want it to be B. It's so unhelpful, it sort of rounds a bend somewhere and becomes helpful again.

Don't thank me, thank Katy.

* The Mac makeup counter is really not a counter. I ask you, what is with this new fangled retail model where there is no counter and no way to line up anywhere? Mac make up, Apple, AT&T, what is going on? Do you want chaos, is that what you want? What's a grandma like me supposed to THINK?

Consumables #49

2011-09-16T16:23:00.000-07:00

Weirdo conversation of the week, started because my mom used the word "tarpaulin."

Me: Did you hear my mom use the word tarpaulin last week?
Nordic Boy: No. When did she do that?
Me: When she asked you to cover up the patio furniture. She asked you to use the tarpaulin.
Nordic Boy: I thought it was a tarp.
Me: That's short for tarpaulin.
Nordic Boy: It is?
Biogirl: I have heard of tarpaulin, but I never really put together that that's where the word tarp comes from. I think of tarpaulin as more old-timey, like a waxed canvas. Like in sailing. Not the blue plastic stuff.
Nordic Boy: Yeah. Or like when waterproofing was done by soaking canvas in gasoline.
Me: What? I have never heard of that.
Nordic Boy: Sure you have. It was mentioned by that guy we saw.
Me: What guy?
Nordic Boy: The one with the glasses.
Biogirl: Ok. And?
Nordic Boy: The one that everyone thinks is dead.
Me: Glasses, and rumored to be dead. Um...
Nordic Boy: We saw him IN THE TEEVEE.
Me: OH! Charles Nelson Reilly?
Nordic Boy: YES.
Biogirl: Really? You got Charles Nelson Reilly out of glasses, maybe dead, a gas-soaked canvas, and "in the teevee?"

With that, I bring you Consumables.

In the Teevee

Life of Reilly
Film of Charles Nelson Reilly's autobiographical one-man play. He does not dish about any Hollywood types, which was a little disappointing. Isn't being able to dish about Hollywood types the whole entire reason one would be on the Match Game that many times? Oh well. In the film, he does indeed wear glasses, he does make jokes about people seeing him in public and being surprised that he is still alive, and I did watch the play in the teevee. He also tells a childhood story about how circuses used to waterproof their tents by soaking the canvas in gas, and how one caught on fire and he almost died in it. So Nordic Boy makes PERFECT SENSE.

Lil Champs
My parents are not big tv watchers. They watch World Cup soccer, they watch a lot of news, they may watch a PBS version of Bleak House or something. That is it. (I know, right? How did they spawn me?) So I was shocked when I went to visit them recently and they were hurrying through dinner one night so that they could watch a tv show. The show? Lil Champs. This is a Hindi-language tv show that is like American Idol, but with little kids. It was sort of awesome on many levels, not the least of which was watching my parents so fricking into it. The heartbreaking thing about it though, was seeing the kids' backstories, which often went something like this: Leela just turned 12 years old. Here is some footage of her completely destitute life. If she wins the show, she will have a chance at life with maybe some clean water in her future, maybe. If she's voted off this week, well, we don't know what will happen to her life, since her opportunities are, to understate it, slim. I was a blubbering mess through the whole thing, because I am pampered and wimpy and guilt-ridden.

American Chopper
I don't know. I just don't want to even link that that one. Nordic Boy was watching this the other day, and goddamn if it's not the Real Housewives only with mustachio motorcycle dudes. DRAMA.

Anderson
I watched a couple of that new daytime show because Anderson Cooper is pretty and I like to look at him sometimes. OK? LEAVE ME ALONE.

Books

Marriage Plot, by Jeffrey Eugenides
I am trying to decide if I really liked this book so much because I really liked it so much, or if I really liked it because it made me feel smart without really having to do anything. I fear it is the latter, but check back with me later on that. Eugenides peppers this whole novel with so many humanities-nerd references that if you get all of them, you can feel smug. So yeah, I got my smugly on a bit too much I fear. Oh-ho! What a clever way to reference Luce Irigary! Haw-haw! I mean, I just wanted to smack myself after a while. That said, the story is about the relationship (dare I say love triangle?) between Mitchell who loves Madeleine who loves Leonard. I never figured out who Leonard loves. It's basically an intellectualized, sort of depressing rom-com, if that even makes any sense. I did enjoy it.

Bloodroot, by Amy Greene
First of all, I have a bone to pick with whoever wrote the blurb on the back of this book. It makes the whole thing sound like it's got a bunch of magical realism going on, when really that's not even the point. Boo, publisher. Anyway. Story about four generations of a family in rural Appalachia. There was quite a bit of melodrama, but I didn't mind that. I loved reading the language, much of it written in dialect. Writing in dialect is hard to do. Usually it comes off really terrible and condescending and just ick. But this time, I liked it.

Last Man in Tower, by Aravind Adiga
A middle class condo building sits in the middle of a Mumbai slum that developers are trying to gentrify. A developer offers every resident an amount of money that would set them up for life in order to buy out the building and tear it down. The catch is that all residents have to agree. One couple, elderly and disabled, do not want to leave, but feel pressure to comply. Their friend, the dignified retired schoolteacher known as Masterji, tells them that he will take a stand for them. As things progress, the once tightly-knit community of neighbors begins to turn ugly. Suspicions, personal issues, religious and cultural clashes start to rumble under the surface. I was sort of riveted by this book. It's not a pretty story, but it was compelling.

That's all I got!
Happy Friday, everybody.

Spitacular

2011-09-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

Whenever I go back to Michigan for a while, it doesn't take me long at all to get thoroughly entrenched in the place. No matter how long I have been away, there is something very natural to me about being there. So much so that when I get back, I have a few days of walking around in a bit of a daze, trying to remember my life. This is me, sleeping in my own bed. This is my job that I go to every day, wow. And look over there. There are mountains right there. I live in a place where there are mountains. WEIRD.

To get myself back in the swing of things sooner, I thought I would take a trip to see those mountains right up close in their faces. So I asked my best peeps, Biogirl and Nordic Boy, to hop a ferry with me and away we went.

First stop was Dungeness Spit. A spit is not just the loogie-related patooey action that Mr. Edwards taught Laura Ingalls. It is also a long piece of sand that juts out in a most boner-like fashion from the mainland. And when it comes to beach-boners, Dungeness is the biggest in the world. Yee-haw!

Look at that. You can't even see the end of it. (That's what she said).

What do you call the song that you sing while at Dungeness? A spitoon, of course. (Little kid style riddle courtesy of Biogirl).

What if the Spit were a really annoying rapper? It would be called D. Spitty of course. (Ok, that was Biogirl's too. She was on a roll.)

Nordic Boy is prone to gazing off into the distance, no matter what the occasion. The Spit was the perfect spot (Spit Spot!) for him to get some good pensive gazing in.

It's so weird to be looking downward and see the top of a mountain.

This is probably the only situation in which I am excited to see snow.

I tried to get someone to pull a Maria Von Trapp and twirl around but no one was buying it.

Ok, so you know that we weren't roughing it too bad when you see that there are paved trails. And mowed grass. But whatever.

2011-09-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

Here's what I hear when my hometown is mentioned.

The one from Roger and Me?
Is it really as bad as they say?
Good for you for getting out!

I get it. It's warranted, really. It's known around the country as the archtype of the de-industrialized factory town. Population decreasing rapidly since the 60s, urban decay, attempts at renewal, all of it. It's known as Murdertown, USA, for Chrissakes. There are things to legitimately be scared of while there, it's true. There are big swaths of my town that feel like they are out of The Road, and not just because I am prone to theatrics. Abandoned-looking streets, boarded up houses, gangs of feral dogs whose late night barking is one of the eeriest sounds I have ever heard. I can't argue that these things don't exist.

You know what else I think of when I think of my town? I think of the people who stay there, and love that place, and try to make it better, and do great things. Like, truly great things. I think of the fact that many of the most amazing people I have ever known come from there. They are warm, uncynical, hopeful people. I think about my parents' house, which is, to me, the most beautiful place there is. I think about how much of the me in my me-ness comes as a direct result of that city, and hi, have you met me? I am pretty cool. At least I think so. The way I feel about my town is the way some folks feel about complicated parents: I love it with all my heart, and I know that it made me, and I feel intense loyalty to it despite everything, but in the end it couldn't give me what I needed so I had to go, but that still makes me wistful.

My hometown. It's a messy, resilient, depressing, strong-willed, tough, big-hearted, jacked up, inspiring place. I could write about it for pages and pages and still never pin it down.

This is my childhood library, which used to have an awesome mural of the Hungry Caterpillar in the front window. I used to read Beatrix Potter books in there when I was 4 years old. I loved that place. It was struggling along, until this year when it finally closed. Kind of broke my heart when we drove by. The liquor store next door was still going strong, if that tells you anything.

This is the lot where my middle school used to stand. It was knocked down a few years ago and has stood empty ever since. That little row of white building you see in the background is a weekly-rate motel. Some of my middle school teachers used to live there. If that doesn't prove to you that teachers are not gravy-soaking freeloaders, I don't know what will.

This building used to house my family's favorite pizza joint. The family who owned the place lived in my neighborhood- the dad's name was Dave. Every year at the local pool we would have a sleepover (a sleepover at a POOL, how cool is that?) and Dave would be a chaperone, and one of the things he would do every year was project "The Yellow Submarine" movie onto the pool wall for us to watch.

Since the recession started, people sometimes ask me: how is your hometown doing? Is it weathering things ok? This is a hard question for me to answer, because no, it's not weathering it ok, but on the other hand, we had troubles long before this latest boom-and-bust so it just seems like more of the same. It's not like we were riding high before the recession hit. Then again, I see so many cool things cropping up out of the dust, I am always amazed at the pockets of awesome I see when I go there, and how hard people are trying. So I just don't know. I don't know how you answer that question.

Hello Seattle, and see you later

2011-09-10T09:19:00.001-07:00

Hopping the ferry this morning and running off to the woods.

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Sweets

2011-09-07T08:55:00.001-07:00

My mom still gives me my currant scones on my very first plate that I had when I was a baby. I love that.

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Granny logic

2011-09-02T07:32:00.001-07:00

Look what I found in my parents' cupboard.

Me: What. is this??
Mom: It was for when the grandkids were here. I took them to the store and let them pick out whatever cereal they wanted.
Me: But, you never bought us this stuff. Not even once.
Her: It was for the grandkids.
Me: That's not a reason.
Her: Oh, of course it is.

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Siesta

2011-09-01T10:13:00.001-07:00

It's 1pm, we just had minestrone soup for lunch made with vegetables straight from the garden, and all four of us are now retreating for an afternoon nap. The only stipulation is that we have to wake up by 3 in order to reconvene for teatime.

Two out of the four of us are over age 75. The other two are in hardcore training for retirement. I really do think old people are my peer group.

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Pretend this has good lighting

2011-09-01T05:39:00.001-07:00

Nowhere more than at my parents deserves good food photography skills. Oh well. Just imagine i'm better at this.

Mustard greens, dahl, potato-cauliflower curry, cucumber raita, and pickled apple slice.

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Where I been

2011-08-31T18:32:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I am sitting at a gate at O'Hare airport waiting to make the last leg of a trip to the land of my birthing and I'm typing this on my phone so will this be more disjointed than usual? Yes. And you thought it not possible.

I am listening to a young lass on her cell phone having a heated argument including the very astute observation: "DUDE. Spanish people are not Mexican. Spain is in Europe." Her debate sparring partner, judging from the way her statements continue, is not buying what she's saying for one second. Not one iota. She is remaining steadfast though, bless her heart.

Let's see, what do I need to catch you up on? Last week my friend Palindrome and her mister came to visit us in Seattle. Palindrome and I met our freshman year in college, and I have somehow managed to see past the fact that my behavior- actually my very personhood- at that time was probably the most mortifying period of my life. I was just a girl running amok, is all I have to say for myself. Palindrome doesn't spend a lot of time bringing up anecdotes of my mortifying behavior, which is big of her because I can see how that might be entertaining. Instead, we spent a couple of days catching up and you know what? Still love that lady. When it comes to friends, I really know how to pick them, even in the midst of The Mortifying Years. Good job, me.

Aside: the great debate at O'Hare continues. "DUDE. Just because you met a Mexican in Spain is irrelevant."

Back to Palindrome's visit. The downside was that Nordic Boy was under the weather for the entire time. He was trying to rally the whole time but he was dragging pretty hard, which kind of sucked. His not-feeling-wellness did cause him to be even more succinct than usual, which led to hilarity such as the following.

Palindrome: So what is the population of Seattle?
NB: The Puget Sound area is up to around 4 million I think.
Pal: Does that include Tacoma?
NB: The Puget Sound area includes everything...in the Puget Sound area.

I don't know. It was funny.

After their visit, I workity worked worked, and then this past Monday Nordic Boy went to work in Portland and I tagged along and bummed around the city. I had so much time, a list of things I wanted to do, and you know what I did instead? I sat in a bakery and read my book and stared off into space for a few hours. Then I got hungry so I walked to Clyde Common, ate, then read my book for a few hours more with more staring out the window. Then I walked to Tanner Springs Park and read/stared a little there until the sun went down. And then I went to Imelda's and bought two pair of shoes. So, to recap. Read, stare, eat, space out, read, shoes. Basically, an awesome day, no?

Update from five feet away from me: "No, like Spanish people colonized Mexico. That's why they speak the same language!" PERSEVERE, sister!

And now, I'm heading to Michigan to see my beloved mom and pops. I'm looking forward to hot weather, and the fact that humidity makes my hair look fierce. These days my visits can be more than a little melancholy, so sue me if good hair makes me feel a bit better, ok?

More soon, my dears.

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More soon

2011-08-26T13:59:00.001-07:00

The bloggy suffereth this week, I know. Fun stuff is happening- more coming soon!

In the meantime, please to enjoy my lunchtime view.

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Consumables #48

2011-08-19T11:17:00.000-07:00

It's weekend time, SUCKAZZZZZ!

I am super excited for this weekend because (a) it is a weekend and really there needs to be no more reason to be excited about it than that; (b) I am being promised good weather, PROMISED; (c) I am taking at least part of the day off on Monday and hopefully the whole day off so bonus!; (d) most importantly my friend Palindrome is coming to visit me! I actually paused my typing there to do a little chair dance, which PROVES ALL OF IT.

Have you guys seen the tumblr Bill vs. Betty? It is photoshop madness whereby Billy Murray's face is put on Betty White's body and vice versa. It's more entertaining than it sounds. At least to me.

I read Common As Air: Revolution, Art, and Ownership by Lewis Hyde this week, which basically argues the case for defending our cultural/creative commons. Ah yes, my brain does work sometimes, contrary to my many blog postings about The Bachelorette. I have to say that this book was the most readable, interesting, and accessible thing I have read on this topic.

On the other end of the brainy spectrum, I was at home the other night, sitting/lying on my couch in a really impressive way. Like, if there was an America's Next Top Couch Potato competition I would be all over it. I was watching The Daily Show on the DVR, which I do pretty much every evening, but I was so ensconsced in my own Potato-ness that I wasn't even bothering to fast forward through the commercials, which is a rarity indeed. I don't know that I have seen a commercial on tv for the last 5 years, really. But the other night I was watching them, and this one came on.

And it made me laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Like, a big mouth, full belly laugh. Nordic Boy looked over at me from across the room and said "whoa! STITCHES!" and it was true. I was in stitches. Especially when the dude says "Your son Rip is on line toot." OMG. I may just be a 14 year old boy, but DANG that is funny. I really maybe should watch commercials more often?

Before you judge me too harshly, just know that Anderson Cooper and I find the exact same shit (ha ha, pun!) funny. So there.

As I said, I am being told that the weather this weekend will be great. The past few days have been actual summer around here, which is astonishing. Let's go out with a summery song, shall we? Let's shall.

Craft Spells, After the Moment

Busy Biznazz

2011-08-18T11:39:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday? What the WHAT?

Sorry you guys, I have been on a bender lately. And by a bender I mean that I have been on a sort of spree. Not a drunken spree, nor a shopping spree. Those are the only two kinds of benders and sprees people talk about, isn't it? Or a killing spree, which, yikes. Well, there is also the Spree, by which I mean a little scooter dealie that you could buzz around on in the 80s. Wow, you guys, I just looked up Spree scooter on Wikipedia and the picture they have on that page is the EXACT Spree that my friend April had in 8th grade. The black one with the purple writing. We used to squeeze the two of us on that thing and ride around singing Janet Jackson songs. We were positive that we were the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas, and the kitty's titties all in one.

Anyway, the bender/spree I have been on is just a ridiculous chain of small life events of the completely normal variety (yard work! seeing friends! grocery shopping! working!) but somehow all piled up one after the other with no breathing room in the middle of any of it. In fact the other day I was at work and I was going from meeting to meeting, and all of a sudden I found myself running, because I had scheduled myself back to back with no room for even walking from one thing to the next. I was RUNNING, y'all. As I did this, I thought to myself: self? Is something on fire right now? Is anyone dying? I am all for Getting Things Done but really? Running? There needs to be fire, flood, or blood to justify running during my work day.

Thusly I have discovered a boundary I never thought I needed. No running at work. I am not a firefighter for god's sake. Next thing you know I will want to slide down a pole every time I answer a reference question.

Here are some parts of the normal life spree.

Nordic Boy and I have been looking for a chair for our guest room for months and months. Because we are tightwads who also want quality and prettiness (it would be so much easier if we were tightwads who were fine with crap), we tend to look, and look, and look for things for a long time. Need I remind you I am the lady who went for several years without a winter coat because I was looking so hard? So when plunking down good money for a chair, we scoured the city, y'all. I am confident in saying that we have laid eyeballs on every possible chair within a 20 mile radius of us. Big stores, little stores, vintage, thrift. When we do find the thing that we like, we often look for a while longer, just to be sure. Need I also remind you that it took us a few years of the datey/non-datey for us to commit to each other? What? It is too the same thing. How will I know? as Whitney Houston says. In my case I will know when I have kissed other chairs first, that's how. The other side of this coin is that after all the looking, BAM, all of a sudden it seems that there could never be any other chair other than the one that we looked at and fancied a month or so ago. You wake up, and suddenly... you're in love, as Billy Ocean says. That day happened to both of us on Friday. That means that we walked into the furniture store after work, acting like a couple of high rollers who were buying a chair on a whim. We walked in and were all "we'll take that chair. No, we don't need to look. We don't have any questions. And throw in the ottoman while you're at it too. Ring it up." How baller is that? Ok, so maybe ballers don't spend their dolla bills on chairs from Crate and Barrel, but if they did.

We went to a cocktail party where I continued my quest to find my favorite drink. I have never had a favorite drink, or even one that I really like a super lot, and I sort of want one, for some reason. I made a valiant effort (oh! the sacrifice!) but I still haven't found what I'm looking for, as the non-Sonny Bono said. On the upside, my friends and I decided that hotdogs were entirely too phallic and that we needed a meat product that celebrated ladyparts. We came up with a hotdog in the shape of a doughnut. One could put tasty morsels in the hole of it (grilled peppers? herbed potatoes?). Sounds delicious right? We called it a meat-ring. Ok, so the name maybe leaves something to be desired, but the cocktails were flowing at this point. I assure you we were very proud of ourselves. It is only now as I write this that I truly see how misguided our invention was.

I also should mention that Nordic Boy spent the whole day on Saturday carrying bricks that he had busted out of our laundry room out to the front yard (yes! more yard debris! we continue to be great neighbors), which was pounds and pounds of heavy bricks, and so by the time we went to the party, he was BEAT. He promptly got to the party, had a drink or two, butt-planted on a couch and took a nice snooze right in front of everyone. I used to wake his ass up when he pulls shit like this, but I have stopped doing that. He works so effing hard, all the time. It's your party and he'll snooze if he needs to.

So now, just in case you are keeping score, there was ripped out ductwork, ripped out brick, and also some remnants from tree pruning on our deck all weekend. So beautiful. Landscraping!

Nordic Boy and I had the funniest argument this week. It went just like this.

(Driving by a donut shop).
Me: I've always wanted to try a donut from there.
Him: You have. We went there years ago.
Me: No, you must have gone without me.
Him: Nope, we both went.
Me: No we didn't.
Him: Yes we did.
Me: No we didn't.
Him: Yes we did.
Me: I'm SICKA YOU making up stuff like this!
Him: I'm SICKA YOU not remembering your own life!

This made us laugh until we about died. I don't know why it was so funny. Ever since, we have proclaimed all sorts of things, just so that we could recreate the awesomeness of the words "SICKA YOU." I highly recommend it. Try it. It's funny.

Later gators.

Consumables #47

2011-08-12T17:01:00.000-07:00

My week has gone by so fast with not much to show for it. It was a work-eat-sleep sort of time. The mix of Consumables is small and weird.

Incredible Mr. Limpet
Ok, I admit it, I am a Don Knotts fan. What? I think he's funny. This isn't his best work ever, but still, this campy early 60s stuff is so soothing to me. I can't defend it, I just like it. Deal with it.

Craig Ferguson
I loved every episode he did from Paris this week. I think, based on this alone, he just might have to go on my celebrities-who-should-be-friends-with-me list.

The XX, Islands

I love this song.

That's it! For the whole week! Can you believe that shit? GOD.

Whidbey, Take Me Away

2011-08-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

Hey! I totally forgot to tell you about my weekend last week. Nordic Boy was super excited because he has been dreaming about taking out a non-functioning duct all summer long. Dreaming about it, I tell you. And ripping that thing out was going to cause us to rip a hole in the space-time continuum. Not really. It's actually going to rip a hole in the fabric of space. Ok, LG, stop it! It will rip a hole in our roof, which would then need repairing, but when I type the words "cause us to rip a hole in..." I just physically can not help but finish that sentence without referencing sci-fi space-time ripping. It's a typing compulsion that I cannot fight.

ENNYHOO. So this weekend, when the sun looked like it was going to grace us with its presence, Nordic Boy got his ass up on the roof, tore a huge hole out of it, ripped out the duct, and then fixed the roof. This is pretty much a perfect day to that dude of mine.

I, on the other hand, have other ideas about what constitutes a perfect day. Just because we are sweet on each other doesn't mean we have to agree on perfect-dayness all the time. The world don't move to the beat of just one drum, as the wise Mr. Seaver once wrote. The day I had in mind was to head to the Isle of Whidbey with my pal Biogirl. No ductwork was harmed in the making of our perfect day.

We took the ferry there, and I swear to you the ferry worker who helped us park the car was none other than Derek Jacobi himself! I am positive it was really him and not just some ferry worker who looked like him. It was HIM, dudes. Researching a role undercover, I just know it. We then made our way to Langley, where we walked around and had lunch at the Braeburn cafe. We made our way to Greenbank Farm, where I expanded my pie repertoire by sampling their famous Loganberry pie. Do you know that I am woefully undereducated on pies? I have only had four kinds in my whole life. Apple, peach, rhubarb, and chocolate cream. And now Loganberry. That is terrible pie representation for a lifetime of eating, people! I feel shame about this.

We also walked through some farmland that was opened up for hikers, and sort of got lost. Leave it to me to get lost in an open farm field. God.

We drove up to a local lavender farm to frolic in the purpleness. Prince would have totally loved it there, for reals.

Last stop before heading home was Deception Pass. Pretty pretty pretty.

Oh summer. You totally get me.

Avant Yarde

2011-08-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

Last week was Seattle Night Out, a night where one is supposed to host a block party or a barbecue or some other such outdoorsy something in order to get to know your neighbors. I have always had grand dreams that when I owned a house I would be the sort of lady that would host such an event because it just seems all out of proportion saintly-like, does it not? The sort of saintly whereby you aren't really doing anything that big, but yet not very many people like to do it, and so you can do something pretty meager (hummus dip and a boom box playing 90s hits by Lisa Stansfield or something) but yet be really contributing something to building community.

As I am typing I realize two things. I have now revealed to you that: (a) I probably don't have a very good grasp of what the word "saint" means; and (b) in the deep recesses of my mind I think that party music = Lisa Stansfield. So there's that.

I love to have people over, or, as Martha Stewart wants us to keep calling it: to entertain. And the best entertaining happens on a sunny summer day in one's yard, right? However, I do it a whole hell of a lot less than I used to in the glory days of my youth because ever since we got our house, it is usually a construction zone much of the time in our yard. We are redoing one thing after another at the homestead from the day we moved in to right this very second and most likely on into unknown future years (omg it will never be over I swear to Charo), and we have decided that we are not going to do our yard and deck yet because we are still in a stage where we are tearing the shit out of the inside, and often we drag our house's poor discarded innards through the yard to make unsightly piles (you're welcome, neighbors!) and so we aren't putting in fancy landscaping yet because it's just going to get tromped on. Our motto: wait to do the landscaping until we're done with the landscraping.

So! I cannot be the patron Saint of Neighborliness and Perpetual Barbecues right now. However, that's ok because there are others in my neighborhood who will make the effort, namely our neighbors Sherry and Donna and their cutey son Elliot who live down the street from us. I had never met these folks before, at least in a for-realsies way that goes beyond smiling when we pass on the street, so I whipped up something for the potluck (well I bought a pan of brownies from Whole Foods) and my favorite neighbor (aka Biogirl) and I went. Nordic Boy was, as usual, out of town on biznazz. We met a lot of nice people and I put a lot of faces to names and I walked away with probably about 50% of the crowd thinking that Biogirl and I were a couple so that's batting about average for us.

Here is my fear about my neighbors, ready? Let's just get right into it. I fear that the neighbors are judging our yard. Because of the outflux of debris. And the landscraping. And the lack of landscaping.

This is the downside of moving into a cute neighborhood. You have to keep up with the cuteness! And we are not doing that, at least in the out-of-doors department. I am already mortified by our yard every time I approach it, and being in a party surrounded by every last one of my neighbors? Even though they are very nice people? I wanted to keep apologizing for my yard to every person I met.

"Hi I'm PCL, I think I have seen you in the bookstore a bunch of times and I've always meant to say hello. Great to meet you. Sorry about my whole yard thing. Really. Just, sorry."

Part of the reason I feel like this is because when we first moved in, our house was a serious wreck. It was unkempt, unloved, and needed a new...everything. We like to say that we are not remodeling our house, nor are we renovating it, but rather, we are rehabbing it. It was Keith Richards when we bought it and we are Benjamin Buttoning that shit as hard as we can. Hopefully we can get it to a place where it will age a la Dick Clark, is the goal. Anyway, so when we first moved in the main thing we had to do was just clean a bunch of stuff out to make it livable. When we did this? The neighbors fell deeply in love with us. The eyesore house on our street was being cared for! Looky looky! People came over to us as we left or arrived each day and congratulated us. You are doing such a great job! We are so happy someone is here to save this house!

That lasted for the first year. And yes, the house looks a jillion times better than it did. But we are not done yet, not by a long shot, and the neighbors...I don't know...I feel like I can hear their whispers through the trees, so soft, so ghostly...and they say...WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING YOU SO LONG?

I don't know. Maybe they are still on our side, and all of this agida is just because of my own stuff. But there is agida. And so neighbors who were at the party last night, I promise you: when we are done with these shenanigans, we will have you all over for a barbecue of our own. And I promise you pleasant surroundings, and good food, and Lisa Stansfield.

But for now, there is a pile of old ducts in our front yard, to be taken to the home recycle place this weekend. Sorry. Please accept these Whole Foods brownies as a peace offering.

Love ABC Style

2011-08-08T13:05:00.000-07:00

Hold onto yourself: I am about to talk about the Bachelorette again. I would promise you I'll stop after this, but you all know that my words on quitting are now meaningless so I shall not insult you.

I heard these two ladies talking about the Bachelorette on the bus the other day, and immediately leaned in to listen because no one in my life will talk with me about the Bachelorette because I only hang out with non-ridiculous people, unlike myself. So I am starved for someone who will agree with me that Constantine and Ben, when standing alone or with others, look normalish but when standing next to each other make me think of nothing but a giant Merry and Pippin from Hobbiton. Anyone? Anyone care? No one?

Hence, my new best friends on the bus.

The armchair quarterbacks on the bus (armchair quarterback? is that a thing? I always think I am making things up when I try to throw around sports lingo) were talking about how if the average lady or dude were set up to go on the Bachelorette, it would be really hard to NOT think that you were falling in love (or, in the parlance of the show "falling for someone" because the L word cannot be spoken before the overnight dates because that would be so trashy, OBVS) when put in the midst of such EXTREME LOVE GESTURES.

Let's just take a moment to take in the awesomeness of them coining the phrase "extreme love gestures," for Pete's sake.

They went on to talk about what an extreme love gesture is (and despite the term it is not dirty), and it made me realize that this concept alone is a big reason why I watch the show. Because I don't understand the concept of extreme love gestures, and I am endlessly fascinated with it.

Perhaps I do not understand it because I have never been under its influence. No one has ever picked me up for a date in a helicopter, flown me over the Grand Canyon, and landed me on a pedestal in the middle of the Bellagio fountain in Vegas. But apparently, if they did? I would HAVE TO fall in love with them. It would render me powerless! According to the ladies on the bus.

Extreme Love Gestures, Bachelorette style
aka How You Know You Are Feeling Love: a list

Riding an elephant or camel, maybe even a horse
Snorkeling
Repelling off a building or mountain
Bungee jumping
Tightrope walking
Having dinner at a table in the middle of a pond, fountain, or lake
Watching fireworks
Riding in a seaplane or helicopter or hot air balloon
Going on a sleigh ride, hay ride, or other horse-drawn situation
Getting invited on stage during a Broadway play, magic act, or Cirque du Soleil type show

If you have done any of these with someone, dude, you should totally be married to them by now, according to the Laws of the Bachelorette. You should also cry a lot. And also "put yourself out there." And also announce at various times that you know that your future husband/wife is "in the room right now, I just know it." And also, hot tubs are required. Lots and lots of hot tubs.

Lastly, whatever you do: DON'T MAKE FRIENDS. This is not just for romance. It's a rule for career, relationships, whatever. Friends are for suckers.

Consumables #46

2011-08-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

Books!

Stolen, by Vivian Vande Velde
A girl finds herself running through the forest with no memory of who she is or how she came to be there. She is found by two families, one who claims to be hers and begin to call her Isabelle. They tell her that she has been missing for a long time, ever since she was snatched by a witch who lived in the woods where she was found. The witch has since disappeared, along with another baby. As Isabelle tries to piece together the story of her identity, we have to figure out what is going on as well. An interesting mix of fairy tale and mystery.

Run Far, Run Fast, by Timothy Decker
A simply told graphic novel about a young girl in Middle Ages in Europe whose village is struck by a plague. Her mother tells the girl to run away, which she does. I found the layout of the illustration panels to be a bit confusing and was distracted by this, but perhaps the young whippersnappers can read the comics better than I can.

TV!
Bachelorette
The season finale wrapped up in the motherland of Fiji, which just made it like, destiny, that I was watching it. Getting through all those hours of idiocy just to see that was worth it. Well, ok, maybe not.

Movies!
Harry Potter 7.2
We totally went to see this again because we are the biggest nerds on planet earth.

Men Who Swim
A surprisingly touching documentary about a group of men in Sweden who decide to form a synchronized swimming team. As each team member approaches middle age, the friendship they find in the team is really poignant.

Music
I'm totally feeling this song right now.

Gravity, Sara Bareilles

Ready, Set, Forget

2011-08-03T10:39:00.000-07:00

Remember how I said that I left my phone in the coffee shop, only it wasn't in the coffee shop, but back at work where I left it? This was only one of many phone-leaving incidents of late, as well as some forgetting-of-lunch at home, as well as some forgetting to communicate with people who are emailing me, which especially galls me since that is a pet peeve of mine. Really, when did it become ok for someone to email another someone with a direct question (want to hang out this week? want these baseball tickets? could they have designed a movie poster that would make me want to see a movie less than this one?) and for that second someone to just ignore that email for weeks? It seems like that that is just commonplace these days. Acting in such a manner? Humph, I say. Except for when I do it like, um, lately. Just ignore that part though, I am way too busy being judgy to take note of my own shortcomings.

This morning all of this came to a head when Nordic Boy dropped me off at work and I hopped out of the car, leaving my wallet on the seat. "Hey! Forgetty With Meatballs! You forgot your wallet!" he said after me.

Forgetty With Meatballs! Like, my new nickname. I sort of love it.

This week has gone by in a flash. Time goes by faster when you just run around forgetting stuff. I have tested this all week and it has proved true, because that's just good science. Last weekend summer started up in Seattle for real (I know most of you have been roasting since May but we have barely seen the sun in all of 2011) so Nordic Boy and I celebrated by repainting our guest room. Because that's what summer is all about, Charlie Brown. That and ripping out old ducts. I know, it's like you can just hear The Sundays singing "Summertime" in the background, right?

We also went over to The Soggy Librarian's house for barbecue funness, and Nordic Boy was completely hypnotized by the awesomeness that is cornhole. I, on the other hand, was completely hypnotized by the sight of my other friend arguing so vehemently over the facts of Leona Helmsley's life (as you do) that her lawn chair seat broke and her butt fell through as she made her final points. There is nothing more emphatic that you can do to make a point than to fall through the bottom of your chair at the same time. I think lawyers should start incorporating this into their closing statements.

I have been having lunch outside pretty much every day this week, you guys. And it has not rained on me once! It's enough to make one do something like this.

Consumables #45: Just Ducky

2011-07-29T14:10:00.000-07:00

I have started to use the phrase "fuck a DUCK" way too much lately. Last night, I said it one too many times and Nordic Boy had to say back "will you leave those poor ducks ALONE?" And yes, I really should leave those poor ducks alone.

In other duck fucking news (I have two whole things to say about that phrase in one day! That's weird), a long time ago I used that phrase on Facebook and people clicked Like a bunch of times and then my friend Lola said "I fooked a dook and I liked it." And so now that phrase makes me sing that Katy Perry song with those words plugged in pretty much every time. And now you will too. You're welcome, America!

In other news, can you all tell me how to properly fold a burrito? Nordic Boy and I have totally different techniques and he claims that mine looks like I am diapering something. I don't want to diaper my burritos! I feel like I need to break up with that technique, immediamente.

I shall stop talking that nonsense now and talk a different sort of nonsense. Consumables ahoy!

Movies!
Harry Potter 7.2
Unabashed LOVED IT. So many things about it to love- I'm not even going to get into it. If you are a fan, you know why it rocks, and if you aren't, my explaining the levels isn't going to make you care. I think we're going to see it in the theater again this weekend. I know- my geekometer just blew up.
So much so that I actually think this trailer that recuts HP as if it was a romcom is adorbs.

A Murder of Crows
Our house, like pretty much everyone's is surrounded by crows. I, unlike most people it seems, like them. I think they are beautiful. Yes, yes, they are a scourge, I know. But really, who are we to talk? We are so the scourgiest. Anyway, this documentary about crows was supah cool. So many interesting things about them, not the least of which is that if you cross one, they will remember your face for literally years. And talk shit about you to their friends.

Modern Views: A documentary on Northwest Architecture
Got 45 minutes to watch something about sweet midcentury Northwest architecture? I do. Delish.

Seattle Channel Video can be played in Flash Player 9 and up

Books!
Decoded, by Jay-Z
Beautifully designed book that features essays by Jay-Z on the context and history of hip hop from not every angle, but a lot of angles: political, artistic, historical, cultural. I bought a lot of his arguments, and didn't buy others. I think fans of Jay-Z would love this, as well as anyone engaged with hip hop culture. Much of the book focuses on close reads and break downs of Jay-Z lyrics.

Other stuff!
Hunger Games movie publicity
Are we concerned about this movie? I am concerned about this movie. I mean, come on. Look at the cover of Entertainment Weekly. Peeta looks like he is a bully from the Karate Kid movies. It just don't seem right, people.

I am going into my weekend with the blind and unfounded faith that it will be glorious weather and I shall frolic outside with abandon the entire next 48 hours. What? It could happen.

Happy Friday, all.

Passion Pit: Moth's Wings

Loopy Thursday

2011-07-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

Things I have done this week to show how classy I really am:

1. Asked a friend to do something and then forgotten to respond when they said yes.

2. Worn a shirt that could only be described as Mrs. Roper-esque to a Board meeting.

3. Accidentally broke an unpeeled banana in half and gotten moist banana all over my notes at work.

4. Walked to my favorite cafe to get a cup of tea, walked back to work, got back to my desk and realized my wallet, phone and badge were no longer in my hand. I walked all the way back to the cafe and then realized that I could not have left my stuff there because I had succcessfully gotten back to my office, which I would need my security badge to do. I figured this out because I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES, YOU GUYS. I went back and found it all, right on my coworker's desk.

5. Double booked my weekend and then had to cancel on someone because of it.

6. Tried a new recipe (sauteed kale, potato, tomato and garlic hash) and made tator tots to go with them, not realizing until it was on the plate that I had two potato sides going at the same time for dinner.

On the upside, there was a lady at my bus stop wearing highwater white jeans, a purple men's button up shirt, and flourescent green tie, busting a serious move while this blasted out of her earphones. To which I say: YES, honey.

All You Need Is...

2011-07-25T12:09:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning.

Me: Wow, Amy Winehouse died.
Nordic Boy: She did? That's sad.
Me: Totally sad.

On Sunday night.

Nordic Boy: Did you hear that Amy Winehouse died?
Me: Yeah.
Nordic Boy: I just heard that today...somewhere. Someone told me. I can't remember.
Me: Sad.
Nordic Boy: Wait. I pretty much didn't talk to anyone but you today. Was it you who told me?
Me: Yep.
Nordic Boy: And you weren't going to point that out?
Me: Nah.
Nordic Boy: That's love right there.
Me: Or laziness.
Nordic Boy: The two keys to a successful relationship.

Consumables #45

2011-07-22T23:29:00.000-07:00

Hello my lovelies!

I am feeling like a have a modicum of pep back in my step today. Not a bushel, just a modicum. (I just felt like mixing up some unit-of-measurement talk there, because I'm ker-azy sometimes). Perhaps this is because the sun came out today and I got to eat lunch on a rooftop terrace without my sweater. Actually not perhaps. It's totally because of that. I really am very easy to please sometimes.

Here's the week's roundup!

Books!

The Knife of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness

More dystopic fiction? How much more could there possibly be? When will people get sick of it? Yes, there's lots more, and people (at least me) are still licking it up. This one takes place in a world where people have caught a virus that causes them to be able to hear each other's thoughts, all the time. How can you keep secrets in a world like this? How can you lie? Turns out, you can do both of those things. Some of the reviews of this one say that it's a bit meandering in the middle, but I didn't mind that at all. Other reviews talk about how there is interesting gender stuff going on, which drives me a little batty because I want to know what kind of gender stuff? And what was so interesting about it? But now that I have read it I am also going to tell you that there's interesting gender stuff going on, but I can't tell you what because that would kind of ruin it for you if you haven't read it yet. So ha ha, the annoyed becomes the annoyer!

Ranger's Apprentice, Book One: The Ruins of Gorlan, by John Flanigan

I'm going to tell you a little something about my tastes. If you name a book or a movie with some Lord-of-the-Rings-meets-Rennaisance-Faire made up proper noun? I will not want to read it. I don't know why that is. "The Two Towers": okey dokey, no problem. But the Ruins of Gorlan? Ugh. GORLAN? There is nothing compelling to me about that, no matter how exciting the rest of the title is. I don't care if it's The Monster Bees of Limbus, where- no doy- I am going to want to read about Monster Bees, come on! But Limbus? I don't care if they are "of Limbus." (I just made up The Monster Bees of Limbus, so don't go looking for it in your library catalog because it sounds so awesome). For a long time, I thought to myself that I would probably like the Ranger's Apprentice series. I like rangers. I like apprentices. It's adventurey. But that Gorlan stuff just turned me right off. I finally picked it up, and I totally dug the story. So, lesson learned. The next time I see something that looks good except for the fact that it's called the Siege of Dinglegrad, I shall remember to give it a chance.

Movies!

The Real Dirt on Farmer John

Documentary about the American farm that isn't depressing. SAY WHAT? I know! The Peterson family has been farming in Illinois for generations. This documentary follows their story from traditional family farm through hard times and redemption. It's realistic but hopeful, and will make you feel super, super good about that CSA box you order every week.

Labyrinth

This is why I still go to my local indie video store. Because I can walk past a shelf, spur of the moment, and go OMG, I have to SEE THAT. This one especially had to be seen because Nordic Boy had never seen it before. Can you even believe that shit? Who am I sharing my life with, I ask you? How could anyone not have seen David Bowie in his Mad Max wig, playing with those silver balls the whole movie in a not at all metaphorically sexual way? "You shall love me, young lady. I shall hypnotize you with my shiny, shiny balls!" That's just good stuff, people.

TV!

Roseanne's Nuts

I love the old Roseanne show. It's one of those staple shows that I can watch here and there whenever I run across it on tv, no matter how many times I have seen it before. So, I gave her new reality show a try this week. I still sort of love her, even though the show isn't much.

Other stuff!

Google+

Do we care about Google+? I am trying it, but I don't know if I care about it yet. How about Spotify? Do we care about that one? I haven't gotten an invite for that yet, so if you've got one, send it my way. I'll give it a whirl.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Speaking of

2011-07-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that in movies or tv shows, whenever there is a little boy who is orphaned or has run away and been found or something, the people who have found him tend to refer to him as "The Boy" throughout the whole thing, even when they know perfectly well what the character's name is? "I'm very worried about The Boy. He's in shock after what happened, and he doesn't seem to be coming out of it." What is up with that? "Bring The Boy in. We have to ask him what he knows." No one talks like that, do they? Movies. They so crazy.

Speaking of the The Boy, I am seeing the new movie out (perhaps you have heard of it) this weekend about The Boy Who Lived, otherwise known as Harry PAW-TAH and I am SO GEEKY EXCITED ABOUT IT. I always say "Harry Potter" like that in my mind, because whenever anyone meets Harry Potter in the movies, that is how they greet him. They don't say hello, or wow, you're that crazy scar-head kid, they say "HARRY PAW-TAH!" It's sort of like shouting "Norm!" in Cheers. I think we should all decide to shout out people's names when we meet them. Maybe that's just how they do in England?

Speaking of England, we were driving downtown the other day, and we saw this dude driving a Segue down the street. When we saw him, Nordic Boy said, in a hoity-toity voice: "Hello, Chauncey!"

Me: Why did you just call that guy Chauncey in that voice?
Him: I don't know. People who ride Segues seem old-timey English.
Me: They do?
Him: Yes. Like, wouldn't he look perfect if he had on a butler outfit right now? With a top hat?
Me: Actually, now that you mention it, um, TOTALLY.

Next time you see someone on a Segue, just picture that for me, won't you?

Speaking of Nordic Boy's great ideas, I demonstrated one of his made-up dances (called "The Level") to my coworkers the other day (because yes, I bust out dance moves at work, SO WHAT) and my one co-worker took it to the Vancouver Folk Music Festival with her friends and got tons of people doing it. His genius is not only sweeping the nation, but it's international, baby. You've got yer Chubby Checker, you've got yer Soldja Boy, and then there's Nordic Boy.

Laters, people.

Edited to add: I realized after I published this that it's Segway, not Segue. I also realized that that is probably not the way you spell Soldja Boy, but I can't be bothered to look it up.

IDK. CINN?

2011-07-18T17:06:00.000-07:00

You guys, I think the inevitable has happened. I have RUN OUT OF WORDS.

Actually, I take that back. I can boil my existence down to two sentences. One: I don't know. And two: Can I nap now?

I am at a place where I don't know seems to cover any and all situations in my life. This is unfortunate since my job is mostly, you know, answering questions for people. A case of the I-don't-knows is sort of not ok, so I am managing to pull out some non-I-don't-know stuff during business hours, but then after that? I don't motherfucking know, ALRIGHT?

Evidence: Nordic Boy was putting in baseboards in our guest room and we were in the lumber store and he was asking me which type of baseboard I wanted and I was all I-don't-know, just pick one. If you knew me but at all you would realize that any sort of aesthetic choice about anything is met with complete and utter decisiveness from me so an I-don't-know on a baseboard style? Proves that my world is off its axis.

My other phrase: can I nap now? is actually something that I have not said aloud but is on repeat over and over in my mind as I go through my day. I have a serious, SERIOUS jones for a nap. At all times. I have become nap-obsessed. Why? Have I been lacking in sleep? Nope. Have I been doing things that would make one over-tired? Nope. So what is up? I don't know. But can I nap now?

Maybe I do know a little. I think the way I deal with stress is to become completely dumb on every topic (I-don't-know-itis) and to go to sleep. Ever since that goddamn friendcut post, it has been one stressful thing after another in me-ville. Various people in my life acting a fool, followed up by family health drama, and then...actually that's about it. But that's enough. Those two general topics cover a lot of ground, actually. Why are people choosing to act a fool now, I ask you? All at once? When I have bigger fish to fry with trying to keep up with family health drama?

I don't know. Can I nap now?

See, it really does work in almost any situation.

I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day, and she was noticing how tired I sounded, and you know what she said to me? "You really should avoid stress." Did I mention that she was calling me from the Emergency Room? With not-great news? You really should avoid stress. Mom, I love you, but have you realized that many of the times, you and I are often standing in a shitstorm together? How can any of us in this here family avoid stress?

She probably doesn't know. And she could most definitely use a nap I am sure.

In other news, this crap few weeks has not limited my ability to giggle about stupid stuff, because that is just who I am. For instance, Nordic Boy came up with this idea that old people who usually eat dinner Early Bird Special style might also like to have a happy hour. Only problem is that if they are eating dinner at 4 pm, they will most definitely miss regular Happy Hour. So why not have their own, from like 2pm-4pm? We would call it "Pappy Hour."

Cracked me up, that one.

Ok, so maybe I have not run out of words. But still. I don't know. Can I nap now?

Oh Weekend Where Art Thou

2011-07-11T16:28:00.000-07:00

Rattling around in my brain today...

I had dinner with Biogirl and HM, and it was one of those fancy places where they only bring you the bread after you have ordered. It's times like that when I miss the motherloving Olive Garden where it is a nonstop breadstick train as soon as you sit down. Choo choo!

I complained about this to Nordic Boy, which got us into a conversation about restaurants that we thought were way fancy when we were growing up. For instance, I thought Pizza Hut was completely out of reach. Also, when a friend had a birthday and we wanted to save up and splurge on a dinner, it was Olive Garden all the way. The fanciest, by far? Red Lobster, baby. My parents took me there the night I graduated from high school, because it was THAT special.

Met up with a friend of a friend who just moved here from Michigan. Welcome wagon! I adore meeting awesome people, and this one was top shelf.

Nordic Boy and I went for a walk, and we saw this dude riding his bike around the neighborhood, yelling at the top of his voice about some band playing at some nearby venue later that night. He was kicking it town-crier style! I was sort of digging that.

We also went to Radio Shack twice. TWICE. Once to buy something, and once to return something. When we returned our something, they seriously interrogated us, you guys. They apparently needed our phone number and address, and email, and wanted us to take a survey. All because we bought a wrong cord. I want to make a joke about Radio Shack, but I feel like that would be hackneyed, somehow. It's like making a joke about losing a sock in the dryer.

Ha ha, look at me, thinking that I have big enough britches to avoid hackery. Hack is WHACK, yo.

That's all I got.

Consumables #44

2011-07-08T16:54:00.000-07:00

Consumables! Thar she blows!

Books!

Bossypants, by Tina Fey
Tina Fey is totally funny and smart in her book! And she can write well too! What a freaking shock, right? Jeez, way to be so predictable, Tina. Seriously it was super good. The only thing slightly eensy bit negative I can say about it is that she kind of needs to lay off on the self deprecation. Maybe in the entertainment industry she is considered not super attractive, but come on. That lady is gorgeous. And skinny. And hot. I realize it's funnier to talk about how hideous one is, but stop it Tina. Because that makes me nuts.

The Secret Science Alliance, by Eleanor Davis
Cutey cute cute graphic novel for kids about a crime-fighting nerd brigade. I loved how of the three nerds, one of them is out and proud with her nerdiness, while the other two are a tough kid and a jock who hide their nerd ways in a sort of secret agent way.

The Composer Is Dead, by Lemony Snicket
Only Lemony Snicket could get away with starting out a picture book with the words: "Composer is a word which here means 'a person who sits in a room, muttering and humming and figuring out what notes the orchestra is going to play.' This is called composing. But last night the Composer was not muttering. He was not humming. He was not moving, or even breathing. This is called decomposing."

Movies!

I Think We're Alone Now
This was a weird documentary about two obessive fans of the 80s singer Tiffany. Simultaneously really really creepy and yet still sort of sympathetic. I don't really know what to make of it. I just felt unsettled after watching it.

Teevees!

The Walking Dead: Season One
Zombies! Survival! Right up my alley, right? Well, maybe. I wanted so much more out of it. More development of the zombie idea, more back story, more everything. Maybe that is still coming up.

That's it, homies. Have a good weekend! Think sun.

And Run, by He is We

Getting Better All the Time

2011-07-07T12:19:00.000-07:00

My life lately! Ahem.

1. I have a seriously elderly laptop. It was bought in 2004, which means that it really should be in some sort of hospice care right about now. The battery drops out of it completely if I carry it anywhere, which thankfully I don't have to do because it won't work on its own battery power anymore. It has to stay plugged in and even then it groans at me when I use it, which I try not to do, ever. Nordic Boy's iPad laughs at it, I am pretty sure. Rude ass bastard. I also have an old iPhone. (And SWEET JESUS can this post be any more bourgie hipster? I don't think so). Sometimes the ipod on it just refuses to play. The other day I was syncing the two, and they talked to each other, rebelled, and bam! All of my music disappeared from my phone, and then the sync was over, never to return. The two are On a Break from each other, which I fear is the precursor to We Are Broken, which will lead to me having no music and that means I will have a Psychic Break. I need new compooter stuff, you guys. But, to quote Nelly Furtado, I'm like a bird. Cheap. No retiring for you, gadgets! You will work until you DIE. If this were the Twilight Zone, I am pretty sure the next thing that would happen is that they would come to life and kill me somehow.

2. I went to my first ever baseball game last weekend. I am not anti-sports by any means but somehow they have just not played a huge role in my life. These are the things that fascinated me about my first ever baseball game. The knickers. It was "Turn Back the Clock" night and so the players wore their old school knickers. I think they need to bring those back on the regular. Who is carrying the knickers torch in 2011? No one! I think it's up to the baseball dudes. Also, any baseball fan that ever complained to me about soccer being "too boring" needs to re-evaluate that statement. You are allowed to love baseball and not love soccer at the same time, but the too boring criteria is no longer acceptable to me. Third, I enjoyed the game, but I think that baseball needs more bling. It's basically just the game, and a 7th inning stretch song in terms of entertainment value. I vote for dancers or cheerleaders, and some sort of mid-game show. Fourth, the stadium food I ate was straight up FOUL. I am not a choosy eater and will eat what I am given most often, but I couldn't eat that shit, people. They put fuckall in that food and charged me three million dollars for it! The nerve. My favorite things about baseball: being outside on a beautiful night with my friends. Also, they played a Michael Jackson song and put a 10-year-old kid on the jumbotron who was rocking the MJ dancing hardcore. This is what I need: sun, friends, and MichaelJackstyle.

3. Sun! It has been so sunny and nice I have wanted to make out with everyone. Be afraid.

4. I went to a 4th of July party where my one friend S (S stands for smartypants) had the rest of us play this game that was full of strategery. I don't want to insult my friends who are also smart, but we SUCKED at this game. So hard that I think S pretty much thought that we had all suffered a simultaneous brain injury. I made a delightful statement at the beginning of this whole episode when the rules were being explained. I shouted out in horror: "OH NO. Is this a THINKING GAME?" My parents would be so proud.

5. Walked to fireworks with my friends. I am not usually a fan of crowds, but the 4th of July is an exception. I love that my whole city spills out of their houses and packs the streets and looks up in the sky together. There's something poetic about it.

6. After the friendcut heartbreak of 2011 (which was closely followed by some other dysfunctional nonsense on top of it all, so double-whammy on the feeling blue), I felt like this week the universe was trying to tell me that I was still loved. That is, if I believed that the universe really has time to focus on making me feel better, which I don't. But it felt like that was what was happening, so I soaked it in. Along with the sun, which I believe I mentioned makes me so happy that I want to make out with all. Pucker up.

Consumables #43

2011-07-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, I declare this week OVAH. Finito! Kaput! And good freaking riddance. People ain't been treating me right lately, you guys. Why that is, I do not get. Because in case you haven't noticed? I is awesome. Super for rill awesome. Perhaps you just aren't ready for this jelly? Still. Ima bring this jelly. Because as I mentioned, I am awesome. And you are lucky to know me.

I just had to have a Stuart Smalley moment with myself there. I beg your pardon. I'm done with that now.

On to things pop and cultural in my life this week!

The Answer Man
I will totally watch anything with Lorelei Gilmore in it, because I love Lorelei Gilmore. This was your typical asshole-meets-nice-lady story. You know the one. Horrible man is going through life being horrible. Then the jagoff meets a nice lady. The nice lady makes him want to be a better man, and he never quite becomes a better man (meaning he is still pretty much a jagoff), but unconditional angelic lady loves him anyway. This is supposed to be heartwarming. Did Woody Allen start this oeuvre in movies? I feel like Jack Nicholson was passed the torch there for a while (being an ass to Diane Keaton and then to Helen Hunt, remember that?). Anyway, Lorelei (Lauren Graham) is the nice lady in this one. So hey ladies! If a dude is an asshole, you can totally just be nice and then he will go from being a 100% ass to you, to maybe an 90% ass to you. That is all your saintly behavior deserves. Aw, so romantical.

God Grew Tired of Us
Documentary that follows some of the Lost Boys of Sudan as they transition from life in a refugee camp in Kenya to the United States.

Confessions of a Superhero
I don't know what it is, but I am fascinated with documentaries about people who are living their lives in pursuit of being famous, and who are living in this sort of purgatory where it isn't happening, but they just keep believing in it. This one is about 4 aspiring actors who make ends meet by dressing up as superheroes to make money by standing on Hollywood Boulevard and taking photos with tourists and asking for tips.

Camp Hollywood
This one is about a famous decrepit Hollywood hotel called Highland Gardens, where aspiring actors come to stay when they arrive in town. Supposedly Brad Pitt had a stint here, and the actor who played Mozart's father in Amadeus has lived there with his wife for a long time and still does. Other than that, it's full of young actors who go on auditions obsessively and dream super big. Why is this interesting? It just is.

I have been too busy hibernating to read books this week, so there you go. Bad librarian.

On to the weekend! Yippee! Let's dance it out.

Pseudo kudos

2011-06-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

I have been frustrated this week, you guys. And I find that I deal with pretty much any negative emotion in my life in one specific way: I want to go sleepy bye bye. Sad, mad, frustrated? My answer to that is a date with Mr. Sandman.

So, this week, I have been frustrated and therefore super tired. I went to bed at 9pm last night and woke up at 8 this morning and I could have slept longer, I am not going to lie. When I am tired, my communication skills go out the window. Like last night at dinner.

Nordic Boy: I'm really glad I could finish that new flooring in one weekend. That makes the summer time line for other projects so much easier.
Me: Totally. You deserve cooties for that.
Nordic Boy: Hey, what?
Me: Kudos. I mean kudos.
Him: "Kudos?" You never say kudos. Why are you saying kudos?
Me: I think I should start. Kudos for you-dohs!
Him: Wow.
Me: I feel like poop right now. It's how I'm dealing.
Him: You feel like pooh-dohs?
Me: Now you're feeling me.

Band, Brunch, Blazer, Beach

2011-06-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

This weekend felt like summer. FINALLY.

On Friday night, I went to see a band called Harry and the Potters. The teenagers dressed in their punky Harry Potter garb were too cute for words. Wizard rock is silly, and fun, and pretty awesome; I am not afraid to say it, people. My favorite part of the evening was a conversation I had with a teenager in line. We were talking about going to see bands play, and about whether one should get one's hand stamped on the back of the hand, or on the inside of the wrist.

Me: To me, the inside of the wrist is what you do. Because then you don't have to worry about it washing off when you wash your hands.
Her: I guess you're right. But I don't know.
Me: Why?
Her: If you put it on the inside of your wrist...you know, that's where Voldemort puts the Dark Mark on people.
Me: Yeah. Well, I hadn't thought of that.

On Saturday, Biogirl and I headed out of town to have brunch at the Salish Lodge. I ordered a three-egg omelet that I am pretty sure was either an 8-egg omelet or a three-egg omelet using eggs from a pterodactyl. We then walked around the Snolqualmie Falls (drenched in freezing mist! so refreshing) and said howdy to the mountains before heading back to Seattle. We coined a phrase for the act of walking off a large meal: beef strollin' off. Because we are geniuses.

And, just because we do live in Seattle where we have city, and mountains, and forest, and beaches, all within a one hour driving radius, we decided to do them all and ended up in Discovery Park where we hiked our way down to the beach. The best thing about this was that since this was totally unplanned, I was wearing a fancy-brunch appropriate outfit. Not a hike-through-the-woods-and-the-beach outfit. I did have enough foresight to bring along a pair of Converse with me, so at least I wasn't the crazy lady hiking in heels, but I was wearing, well, something like this.

So yes. I went hiking in a blazer. I know I am anti-fleece and clothes in the REI family make me have hives, but that? That was just ridiculous.

Biogirl and I see each other often, but it isn't often that we just spend a day together. When was the last time you spent a whole day with a friend, just hanging out, shooting the shit, doing whatever you feel like?

The next day, Biogirl and I tagged along with Nordic Boy to the hardware store and shopped to get her some gardening tools. Nordic Boy was long-suffering with our tomfoolery (him: "you should get this tool because you can use the whole length of it and not just the tip." Us: giggle giggle "Not just the tip! I hate it when they don't use the length of it!" giggle giggle) and then Nordic Boy and I walked to get some ice cream and then he lamented that he had missed the beach with us the day before, so I packed him up in the car and took him back to the beach. The beach, two days in a row. SUMMER, EFFERS.

I am all in for summer! Bring it!

Consumables #42

2011-06-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

Movies!

Marwencol
This is one of those movies where explaining what it's about just would seem to take away from seeing it. I had sort of avoided seeing it for a while because I just kept hearing about it and hearing about it and sometimes when I hear about something so much, what people have said about it is more in my head than what I am actually seeing. So I waited, and I'm glad I did. It was beautiful and pretty awesome.

The September Issue
Every time I see Anna Wintour, I want to say "watch out, your face is going to stay like that" but it is way too late. That lady has cornered the market on having the most consistent stankface of all times. I am shocked that she has parlayed this ability into an entire career. Watching beautiful clothes being paraded in front of you all day long and making a poopoo face at all of them is apparently a jillion dollar job.

Thomas Jefferson
I watched the Ken Burns documentary on Tommy J, and for some reason my Netflix instant queue kept telling me that it was starring Gwyneth Paltrow which it most definitely does not. She does do some voiceover, reading from sources by Jefferson's graddaughter, but it's not even noticeable. Ossie Davis is totally the narrator for 98% of the thing, but Netflix doesn't care about that.

Easy A
I sort of loved this movie. Don't hate me.

Picasso and Braque Go to the Movies
The relationship between film and cubism. You will either find this riveting or the world's biggest snoozefest.

Books!

Kneebone Boy, by Ellen Potter
Potter once again does a great job of creating a world that does not contain magic or fantasy elements at all, but yet has all the weirdness and imagination that one could hope for. Two brothers and a sister, the Hardscrabble siblings, go to visit their nutty aunt who lives in a life-size play castle next to a real castle in which, legend has it, a sort of feral boy once lived, and maybe still does.

Revolver, by Marcus Sedgwick
A sort of Cormac McCarthy book for teens, the story begins somewhere near the Arctic Circle in the early 1900s. Teenage Sig finds his father frozen on the ice outside their cabin. He brings the body inside and sends his stepmother and sister to get help. As he waits, a gruff stranger knocks on the door and demands to know where Sig's father has hidden some gold that he is owed. Sig doesn't know where the gold is, but he does know where his father kept his revolver. Suspenseful and spare.

Hound Dog True, by Linda Urban
Mattie idolizes her favorite uncle, who everyone calls Uncle Potluck. Uncle Potluck is the custodian at Mattie's new school, and she decides to be his apprentice. I loved the characters in this book, especially the adults, who are less-than-perfect but very loving and who do the best they can with what they have. Not many books out there about working class families who are functional, and I appreciated it for that alone, although that's not the only good thing about it.

Everybody Sees the Ants, by A.S. King
In order to escape from a dad who is distant, a mom who is ineffectual, the memory of a beloved grandma who has died, and a kid at school who has terrorized him since he was in elementary school, Lucky escapes each night in dreams. When he sleeps, he travels to Vietnam where his MIA/POW grandfather has been since 1972 and Lucky tries to rescue him, night after night. Another novel where realism is never compromised but the imagined world feels just as real, this one was pretty brutal in its depiction of bullying. No after-school-special-ish-ness here.

Have a great weekend, peoples!

Because their names just have always sounded dirty to me

2011-06-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

Email exchange of the week.

(Concerning the announcement from JK Rowling this week. The one that I really wanted to mean a prequel series, but turned out to be something I am way less excited about).

Friend: Are you bummed? Or is it enough that there will be "additional material?"

Me: BOO!

Friend: You're going to end up a star of the HP fanfic community.

Me: Only if it's slash fanfic. Dobby and Barty Crouch, together at last!

Friend: HA I would so read that.

Me: "Just give me a piece of clothing, Barty! Just one!"

Friend: Oh lords. That is hilarious.

Because I am here to entertain in totally inappropriate ways.

Love Makes Things Better. Also, Badly Sung 80s Songs.

2011-06-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

Listen, just because my heart's a little bit broke doesn't mean that I can't go out and belt some tunes in front of lots of people and scare them a little bit, right? It's like chocolate after a Dementor attack. It really helps.

Here are some things I did this weekend to help me not think about my hurty heart.

On Friday night, I went to a party at this place, where every last cheesy song in the world was sung with abandon, despite the fact that I have a bit of a cough. You want to know what? My version of Take on Me by A-ha is hideous, people. HIDEOUS. Unless perhaps you make yourself believe that I meant to do it in the style of Yoko Ono. Which I could have been doing, totally on purpose. You'll never know for sure.

Two of the things that Nordic Boy has never done in the many years that I have known him: (1) get sloppy drunk. (2) sing karaoke. I have a dream that one day I shall see these two things happen simultaneously in one spectacular night of awesomeness. Alas, Friday night was not that night. I have seen him bust out such lovely renditions of songs such as "Tiny Dancer" or "Fuck the Pain Away" by Peaches in the privacy of our own home, but he has yet to unleash his talent onto the world at large. Some day, my friends. Some day.

On Saturday I met up with Delium for lunch and afterward we were at my house where he noticed an old photo of me, Alli, and Map where I was wearing a favorite Esprit shirt under a Benetton sweater with my teenage acid washed jeans. "I totally remember that outfit!" he said. I love that I have friends from ye olden days that can say stuff like that to me.

That afternoon, I went to a "summer barbecue" at the Soggy Librarian's house. I put that in quotes because it was raining and in the upper 40s that day, at least when we first arrived. That didn't stop us from pretending it was summer, especially when it stopped raining and got up to a balmy 50 degrees or so. We barbecued and played cornhole in the wet grass. You will not defeat us, Seattle.

That night, Biogirl, Nordic Boy and I went out to dinner where I ate way too much. Like, Thanksgiving too much. It was worth the belly ache though.

Sunday, I spent the first half of my day over at Biogirl's house, where we came up with some cockamamie theory that perhaps what a good relationship needs is less talking. We came to this conclusion after about three hours of talking, so I am not sure if that proves the theory or doesn't.

I then went on a walk around Green Lake with my friend M, who is awesome for many reasons, not the least of which is that she has chickens who lay delicious eggs and she gives them away to her friends. Score! She is also just super kind. What is better than super kind? I can't think of many things.

I came home to find that all of the furniture in our guest room had been moved out into our dining area, and Nordic Boy had installed beautiful cork flooring in the guest room. And then we danced on the new floor to "Electricity" by OMD, and Nordic Boy made up a hilarious new dance that we dubbed "The Level" and we did that until I almost puked laughing. This is why I love coming home.

I called my my dad, and he told me about something funny that my mom said that day, and he could barely tell it, he was laughing so much, and I could hear my mom laughing in the background too, and I hope that when we are in our 80s Nordic Boy and I can make each other laugh like that still.

We then made a cozy dinner and watched a movie and were in bed by 11.

Thanks, weekend.

Dropped Like It's Hot

2011-06-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, I wrote a post about cutting a friend out of your life. In Fiji, there is a name for doing this. It's called Friendcutting. As in, I friendcutted his sorry ass.

I wrote it in a way that was for the cutter, not the cuttee. To encourage folks that yes, it's ok to cut a friend out if they are being a shitty friend. But what about when you're the shitty friend? And you get cut out? What's that like?

The short answer? It sucks, dudes. It sucks bad.

I'm not talking about drifting apart in a mutual fashion, or when someone moves away and you don't talk to them quite as much as you used to. I am talking about a conscious, intentional decision. They don't want you as a friend. They have decided. They don't tell you they have decided. They just stop calling you. This has happened to me three major times in my life.

First of all, I guess I should say that I am most definitely a friend-person. The place that friendships occupy in my life is near the very center. I define myself in terms of the company I keep and how much love I have, related to me or not. My parents are my parents, but they are also dear friends. Nordic Boy is so for sure my friend. Also, Biogirl is my family, and so are my other dear friends. Close friend or family, it's really one unit in my mind. I acknowledge that not everyone sees friendship in this way. Perhaps that's part of my problem, but we won't go there.

I have friends that I have known since we were both sporting the Huggies. I have high school friends, and dance school friends, and college friends. I have friends from every job I have ever had. I have neighbor friends. I have coworker friends. I have ex-boyfriend friends. I have blog friends (hi you guys!). This is not to brag about how many friends I have. I'm just trying to say that I am not one to leave people behind. If you're my friend, I cherish you. I'm in it for the long haul. I'm not fair weather.

I remember the first time I consciously went AWOL on a friend of mine. I am not proud of it, but I did it. It was a college friend: Megan. In our late teens and early 20s Megan and I had whooped it up. Then, something changed for Megan. She had a lot of things going on, and I tried to be there for her. I tried to make her laugh when she was down, and she told me that was insensitive. I tried to call her when she needed me, but she would tell me that she wanted to be alone. When I left her alone, she said that I was never there for her. When something good happened to me, she told me it made her feel worse about her life. When I was sad, she told me I was being a drag. I could not win. Finally, I realized (oh, youth, when it took me years to realize crap like this) that perhaps the shitty friend was not the Man in the Mirror. I remember it hit me, right in the face, and it was a SHOCKER, and I am not even being sarcastic. Maybe Megan was the shitty friend? Say WUT?

Picture me, slapping myself on the forehead in realization, in a "gee I coulda had a V-8!" sort of way.

Here's the part I am not proud of. I had called Megan this one time, and she made all sorts of pronouncements about all the things I could never do right, and I remember so clearly thinking "I am never ever calling you again." And after I hung up, that's exactly what happened. I never called Megan again. I just dropped off the face of the earth and didn't return any of her phone calls, or emails (we by this time lived on opposite coasts so I never ran into her at parties). No "peace out!" Nothing. I may have sent her a holiday card or a birthday card for a couple of years after that, but other than that, I ratcheted that mess down from full-on friendship to lukewarm acquaintance. I still had the audacity to sign her birthday cards "xxoo" like we were still in friend-love, but clearly, I was out of there. See ya, sucker.

I try to think of this situation when friends of mine disappear on me. You might think this would make me feel worse because that would mean that I am the Megan, a terrible friend who someone just can't frigging stand anymore. But no. In my way (I am nothing if not a glass-half-full kind of lady), it makes me think that the dropper is too scared to tell me, the droppee, that they just don't want to hang anymore. I could have tried to fix things with Megan, but I didn't. I put in no effort to communicate with her about what I thought was ailing the friendship. That was my responsibility and I didn't do it. I was the coward there, not her.

At the time I knew Megan, I had never had a friend drop me like that before, so I didn't really know what that would feel like. Soon after, I got my first taste. This time, it was my friend Kayla. I didn't know there was anything wrong between Kayla and me. And I would like to flag that sentence. I didn't know there was anything wrong between Kayla and me. The reason I am flagging? Because this is a MAJOR CHARACTER FLAW OF MINE. If you don't tell me or show me you are troubled? I always assume you are fine. If you seem happy, I believe you. This is because I grew up in the land of Midwest Bigmouths, where people tell you their troubles whether you want to know or not. No one is politely hiding that shit behind a genteel veneer of courteousness. If someone has a problem with you, you will KNOW. I have tried to get better about reading people who aren't so good at that, especially because Seattle is renowned for its genteel veneer of courteousness, but so far, I still suck at it. Anyway, so Kayla had been acting the way that she always had, and so I was going along, tra la la, we are friends, and then bam. She was gone. This time, I got a hold of her and asked her about it, and with some coaxing, she told me what was wrong. And turns out, I was being a shitty friend. In my own defense, I did not realize this and had she told me what she needed from me a long time ago, I would have been able to be a better friend. But now, it was too late. She was over it, I was so ten minutes ago, and flush. Down the toilet I went, our friendship with it.

Since then, I have been cut out two more times by people I thought would be in my life for my whole life. Each time broke my heart worse than the last. The number of them that don't hurt when I think about them? Goose egg, baby.

So now that I have been on this super awesome train wreck three times in my adult life, I feel like I have a lot of things about it figured out.

1. The genteel veneer of courteousness is like a foreign language that I am starting to learn, but so far my level of understanding is on par with only being able to say the phrase "donde esta la biblioteca" while traveling in the middle of Barcelona without a map and what I really need is to go number 2 really badly but I don't know how to say that and all I can ask for is the damn biblioteca. I continue to try to study this language but it is slow going. I at least can tell my friends that I suck at this though, so they are appropriately warned, so that is something.

2. I try really way hard to be a good friend. I think I try harder than most. Sometimes though, I just don't cut it. So I get cut. Sometimes trying just isn't even the point. Getting cut is just the way it bes sometimes.

Ok, maybe that's it. I haven't learned a lot of things. I have apparently only learned two things. Which is better than no things, but still. It's kind of a shit sandwich and I wish I could say I have learned a bit more that just two things. I know more about Kim Kardashian's upcoming nuptials than I do about dealing with losing a friend. (a) She is marrying someone really tall. (b) Her sister wants her to get a prenup. (c) His name is Chris something. There. Three things. Whereas traumatic life experience? Only two things. That's really very distressing.

Wait. Maybe I have a third thing. I am hesitant about the third thing, because I am not sure it's right. But Ima say it anyway. When I get cut, I just let the person go. Like almost immediately. Because if you don't want me around, who am I to argue? It's your choice. It's like in a romantic relationship, if someone wants to leave, isn't trying to talk them into staying, well...pathetic? I feel like there is a possibility that I am supposed to Make a Stand in these types of situations. Is that how people do? They Make a Stand? Or Fight for the Friendship? People aren't acting all dramatic like that, are they? That's what I am asking you, blog friends. Am I being a bad cuttee? Am I supposed to be hanging on to someone's leg while they try to walk out the door? Because I have never done that, and I am just realizing, after train wreck number three, that maybe I should have been doing that. But if that's true, I just don't know if I have it in me. I just don't know if I am cut from leg-hanging cloth. I am much more a "hey, still love you, I'll be over here. If you want to call me up, I will always take the call, but I'm not going to call you and have you hang up on my ass over and over again" kind of lady. But is that what we're supposed to do for love these days? Because if so, I have been doing it all wrong.

I just don't want to go through train wreck number four, you guys. I am getting too old for this shit. I am Dear Abbying you. If someone friend-cuts you, let go or no?

How Now, Whiney Cow

2011-06-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

Most awesome conversation I have heard lately, between a mom and her daughter, about 5 years old.

Kid: Mmmmmmmm.
Mom: Was that a moo? Like a cow? Good job!
Kid: No. I was whining. Mmmmmmm.
Mom: Oh. Well, stop it then.
Kid: Mmmmmmmmm.
Mom: Stop whining!
Kid: It was a moo that time.

Why I will make a great retired person

2011-06-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

Most of my weekends are full of activity. Every once in a while, my calendar is totally open, which means I get to do whatever I wish. This weekend was such a weekend, and I find it telling that "whatever I wish" is decidedly geriatric.

Here was my Saturday.

1. Woke up at 7am, because, you know, that's sleeping in.

2. Had a cup of tea and literally counted my leftover change and rolled it up.

3. Did laundry, dishes, vacuumed, dusted, and paid bills all before 10am.

4. Wandered over to Biogirl's house.

5. Had a leisurely brunch with the bff.

6. Went into the garden store next to the brunch place.

7. Went on a stroll around Green Lake.

8. Found the Parfait ice cream truck, and had a scoop in the sun.

9. Complained to each other about the cafe chairs on the sidewalk we ended up sitting in (her: "this cuts off my circulation in the back of my legs!" me: "these chairs make my butt fall asleep!")

10. Came home and watched David McCullough being interviewed on tv while ironing Nordic Boy's work shirts.

11. Read a book, while listening to Vivaldi.

12. Looked at some old photos of friends I miss and felt terribly nostalgic.

13. Opened up all my windows, put my feet up on my couch, and "rested my eyes."

14. Made a simple dinner of rice, beans and veggies with Nordic Boy.

15. Watched a movie under a blanket and ate cherries for dessert.

16. Did a crossword in bed.

I really hope my generation will be able to retire, because I am seriously going to rock that shit.

Consumables #41

2011-06-10T15:27:00.000-07:00

Two Consumables in one week! I should be paid extra for that!

1. Witches of the East End, by Melissa de la Cruz

At Book Expo there were all sorts of publishers there with galley copies of upcoming books, handing them out to people who might be able to add to the buzz.* Oh yes, I am so important, I can create buzz. Not really, but you think I am going to tell those suckers that? How would I get a gigantic boxful of galleys to bring home with me then? Anyway, I picked this one up from my pile at random, and also a little bit because I am familiar with de la Cruz's teen stuff (this is her first novel for adults). This one is set in the Hamptons, and stars a family of three witches. With all the zombies and vampires running around literary land (and now fairies too), seeing a good old fashioned witch was sort of refreshing. It was still super frothy and would appeal to teens even more than her teen books, I think, because the story was like her teen stuff, only with plenty of the sexy bidness. Which makes it a novel for adults, but let's face it, teens want books with the sexy bidness in it too.

2. Home improvement shows

Nordic Boy watches home improvement shows sometimes, and they make him, out of anger, pop an o-ring. (This is a favorite phrase of Nordic Boy's. To pop one's o-ring. That means to get rageful. It has to do with plumbing. Trust me, he tells me it's hill-air). It drives him to a poopy pants state when someone Norm Abrams like, who has the fanciest tools around that will laser draw all your cuts for you and then execute those cuts with a press of a button, does this and then says something like "and there you go! Once you learn that trick, you can make mitered joints in seconds!" I found Nordic Boy yelling at the screen last night: "THAT IS NOT A TRICK! THAT IS NOT A TRICK! AUTOMATION DID IT FOR YOU! YOUR VIEWERS CAN'T AFFORD THAT SAW! THAT IS NOT CRAFTSMANSHIP! GAHHHHH!" I don't know why he puts himself through that. Maybe it's the same part of the brain that causes me to watch the Bachelorette, which makes me pop an o-ring.

3. The Bachelorette

OMG, you guys. I really was so ready to not watch the shitstorm anymore. And then I got sick, and watched all the teevees, and saw an episode. And now I am back in. GODDAMN ME. But come on, the guy who wore a Zorro mask for the first few episodes, so that she would fall in love with the Real Him? And how she had spent probably a collective 4 or 5 hours in some guy named Bentley's presence (cue Jon Cryer as Duckie: "his name is Bentley? That's a car, not a name!") and when he left the show, she TOOK TO HER BED because she was devastated by the loss! I don't do the Real Housewives, or the Jersey Shore, or anything like that, but this one: I just can't not look at it. I can't. O-ring be damned.
4. I don't really find celebrities hot. I don't know why, I just don't. I never watch a movie and think "ooh, Ryan Reynolds, homina homina." Instead, I think, really? Ryan Reynolds? Why? I just don't think that I can have a crush on anyone based solely on their looks. So, no fantasizing about McDreamy or McSteamy or McFeely (wait, that's the Mister Rogers guy) or whatever. I do, however, have friend crushes. Like, I have looked at people and thought "we would so totally be friends." For instance, I am convinced in a completely (well 98%) non-stalker-ish way that Amy Poehler and I would be total besties. I also feel that Kate Winslet and/or Emma Thompson (I don't know, the two of them have to come in a set, right?) and I could have a pint together, no probs. I have always found Ewan McGregor completely charming in interviews and like him in a non-hubba-hubba way.*** I couldn't make you a long list like that, but I could make you a list. The latest friend-crush I have? Luke Burbank and Jen Andrews on TBTL. I listen to their podcast on my way to work in the morning and am pretty sure I am conducting an imaginary friendship with both of them.

5. I know this has made its way around the intertubes a bunch, but my fake friends Luke and Jen play the audio from this often, and it makes me laugh every. fucking. time.

*I am sure I must have mentioned the dude that my friends and I eavesdropped on at Coastal Kitchen this one time, where he was obviously on a date, and trying to impress his lady friend with high falutin' intellectual talk** and our favorite quote from this 21st century Keats was on the subject of his artwork and the effect that he wanted it to have on the world. "I just want to make a dent in the buzz, man," he said. A dent. In the buzz. Oh, lady, if you ended up bedding that dude later, I just don't even know what to say to you.

**otherwise known as jibber jabber

***homina homina and hubba hubba in one post! Just wanted to point that out in case you missed it.

Later gators. Tell me, who is your imaginary celebrity friend?

Consumables #40, or "Have You Ever Read that Ray Bradbury story?"

2011-06-06T16:05:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of people in my city obsessed with the weather. I can't hold myself apart from this- I am as guilty as anyone. I check the weather reports obsessively, and do a disproportionately jubilant dance whenever the sun decides to show itself. I have made valiant efforts to not talk about it so dang much, and although I want full credit for mostly succeeding at this, I also have to dock points for the fact that I would actually, in complete seriousness, describe my efforts as "valiant."

This obsession with talking about weather amongst my Seattle peoples is highest in spring time. I think we can partly blame this on the Facebooks and the Tweeters, as we can blame almost anything. Springtime is when many other places in the US are telling us via their Facebook and Twitter statuses about sunshine, and flowers, and putting on shorts. Seattle has to wait longer than most other places for these sentiments, and so looking at those statuses all day long makes us hemmorage agitation.

This is the paragraph where I disclaim the pants off of all that I am saying and acknowlege all the messy scary weatherness in the news. Places that are not Seattle are being tornadoed to Kingdom Come and I know I am a horrible person for talking about a measly lack of sunshine. But trust me, Seattle during the month of May is full of horrible people just like me. Just know that I am aware of our collective disgustingness. Thanks.

My friend and coworker the Soggy Librarian and I have a special weather-complainant bond. As I said I have valiantly cut down on the weather drama, but that does not extend to my conversations with TSL. She is in the ok-to-whine zone. And part of what makes her be in that zone is her dedication to her weather rage. She actually makes weather rage sort of fun. It doesn't even feel whiney. It feels like a sport. How many ways can she and I complain about the lack of sunshine? Turns out, millions of ways. Millions.

This year, TSL has extended the weather rage into full on storytelling. It starts like this. "Have you ever read that Ray Bradbury story?" Then she'll tell you the summary of "All Summer in a Day," a story that takes place on another planet, where the residents only see the sun for one day out of seven years, or some crazy shit like that. The rest of the time it rains. So basically, the "other planet" is Seattle. Whenever she brings this up, everyone around her says "Wow. That is so us." And we bond in our feelings of Vitamin D deficiency. There is one character in the story who is from Earth. All her little kid friends have never seen the sun, but she has, and she misses it badly. And when the day finally comes where the sun will come out? Her bastard friends lock her in a closet and she MISSES THE WHOLE THING. Because kids are little angels, that's why. Oh Ray Bradbury. Such a joyful sort.

This weekend was the first weekend of sun that Seattle saw in for-freaking-ever. People were planning for this weekend like it was their prom or something. And you know what happened? I got sick with the worst cold. Right on the sunny days! Like, right on them. Square on the nuts.

And thanks to TSL, I could wallow in the misery of not being out in the sun by thinking of that Ray Bradbury story. I AM THE LOCKED IN THE CLOSET GIRL! Not to be confused with the Locked in the Closet boy, R. Kelly. I don't think even Ray Bradbury could have dreamed that guy up.

So I spent most of the sunny days in my house, under a blanket, sipping soup and watching movies. Boo hoo!

Here's what I watched. It's a lot of movies. I was sick for a while.

My Date with Drew
A documentary in which this dude wins $1100 on a game show. He decides to give himself 30 days with this budget witht the goal of ending up on a date with his childhood crush, Drew Barrymore. He manages to go the whole movie trying to get in touch with Drew in all kinds of ways. And bee-tee-dubs, he somehow never comes off as a stalker, which is pretty impressive.

Restrepo
A pair of embedded journalists document a group of soldiers deployed in the mountains of Afghanistan, in an area that is known for being one of the most dangerous for American soldiers.

Following Sean
In 1969, filmmaker Ralph Arlyck makes a short film where he interviews Sean, a 4 year old. Sean lives in the Haight with his hippy parents, and talks frankly about things like the fact that he already smokes pot. The movie got a lot of attention back then and caused lots of people to speculate about what would happen to Sean when he grew up. This movie finds Sean as an adult to answer that question.

Dear Zachary
Movies don't tend to make me have nightmares. Not ghosts, or zombies, or even serial killers. This one made me have nightmares. A few years ago, the filmmaker's lifelong friend, Andrew, was murdered by his ex-girlfriend. After his murder, the ex-girlfriend gave birth to a child that was fathered by Andrew. The filmmaker travels across North America interviewing as many people as possible that ever knew Andrew so that he could give the finished movie, full of remembrances, to Andrew's son Zachary. Things go downhill from there. Like, as heartbreaking as that sounds, it gets so much more heartbreaking.

Between the Folds
Documentary about crazy cool origami art. What more is there to say?

Last Dance
Documentary about the collaboration between Maurice Sendak and Pilobilus. If you know anything about Sendak, and about Pilobolus, you know that they are both cranky but awesome entities. Half the fun is seeing who can out-cranky the other. The collaboration's result is an abstract(ish) dance piece about the Holocaust. The thing I liked seeing was the rehearsal and creative process. If you're wanting to see the actual finished piece, they don't really show much of that. I can see how that might bug some viewers, but I was ok with it.

Purple Rain
Ok, I hadn't seen this in years, and I saw it now and I was totally appalled. Prince beats up Appelonia! Like, full on smacks her up. And pushes her down, and threatens to beat her up some more. And Jerome throws a mouthy woman in a DUMPSTER. And Prince identifies with his domestic abuser father and never really rejects that whole mess, even at the end. And lots of other jacked up shit. I mean, I know I shouldn't expect Prince to be the model of gender equality or anything, but COME ON. This was way, way, waaaaay over the line. I sort of can't get over it.

Kings of Pastry
Fancy pastry chefs competing to become MOFs (highest culinary honor in France- you thought I said MOFOs didn't you?). The pastries in this were r'dick. I have to say though, they didn't look tasty to me. They were amazing, but they didn't make my mouth water or anything. It was more like an amazing sculptural feat than anything else. Then again, I think the best dessert ever made is probably, oh, like an ice cream sandwich or something. That's how I do. MOF that shit.

127 Hours
I know we're not supposed to like James Franco anymore, but I still do.

The Next Three Days
I was mad that the Elizabeth Banks character was so...not assertive. But not too mad, because how much am I really going to get riled about a Russell Crowe thriller? Not that much.

Red Dawn
Patrick Swayze never looked like a teen, even when he was a teen. He must have spawned onto this earth as a thirty year old man, I swear.

Bridesmaids
Ok, I'm cheating- I saw this in the theater a week ago. I thought is was adorbs.

Gotham

2011-06-01T15:19:00.000-07:00

I'm back to the land of grey skies and polite people. Hi Seattle!

Here is what I have to say about my trip to New York.

There are two things I love in life. Well, more than two, obviously, but in the long list of things I love, these two would be near the tippiest top of the list. One! Walking. Two! Art of all kinds. You know what New York is all about? Walking and art of all kinds. Nordic Boy has this same list of loves, but also has a third thing, and that is buildings, parks, bridges. Man made structures, if you will. We were in hog heaven. I get annoyed with the New Yorkers who are all "nothing but nothing is better than New York and anyplace else might as well be a festering boil on a donkey's ass" but goddamn it. It's got things I love so much it hurts. So FINE.

Relatedly, I always find it a little annoying when New Yorkers brag about the quality of their bagels. Yes, YES, you have better bagels than everywhere else, we HEAR YOU. Yet what was the first thing we did when we woke up that first morning? Get our asses to Absolute Bagels. And stood in a long line. Because oh my god. Bagel bliss.

You know how, in tv shows that are set in New York, people are always somehow running into people they know everywhere? Like in Seinfeld, or Sex in the City, or Friends (and yes I can make a reference that is less than 5 years old but just not right now)? I always feel sort of skeptical about that. In all of those masses of people, like you are really going to keep running into crazy Joe Davola everywhere? What EVS. Biogirl and I used to work together when we were in college, and we had this cuckoo boss. Let's call her Rowena. After we both quit that job, we always wondered what would happen on the day that we run into Rowena somewhere. It's sort of bound to happen, right? We dreaded the awkwardness that would ensue. We had the same social circle as Rowena at one time, and we frequent the same sorts of places, and Seattle ain't that big. This was over 10 years ago, and we have never run into Rowena. Ever. So in New York? People are running into each other everywhere? Well, as it turns out, I found that they do. First of all, Nordic Boy and I kept running into my friend Linda everywhere we went. Linda was in town from Seattle to attend Book Expo (as was I), but we saw her everywhere. We were walking in Central Park- hey Linda! And walking near Madison Square Garden- there's Linda! It was buh-nay-nuts. Also, the first day I went to Book Expo (which was attended by about 20,000 people, no lie), I looked up and who was walking by me but E. Lockhart. Ms. Lockhart is the fine author of one of my all-time favorite teen books, and I got the chance to eat dinner with her a couple of months ago when she came to my liberry. So although I don't know her, I sort of know her. Anyway, I chatted with her and she was awesome because she remembered me (or she was awesome because she pretended really well to remember me; I will accept either one as a testament to awesomeness). Then! As I was walking around the joint, I stopped at the Minnesota University Press booth to snag a free copy of the new Ellen Willis book. The rep at the booth and I had a 10 minute conversation about the book, and Ellen, and suchlike. The whole time, I was thinking: do I know you, booth guy? I think I know you. I had a name tag the size of a saucer on a lanyard around my neck (so stylish) stating my full name and where I was from, so I figured if I knew this dude, he could clearly see my name and hence recognize me. He had no such name billboard on his person. I walked away from that conversation and later it clicked. Biogirl's friend from when she lived in California, who I am now friends with too, in a Facebook sort of way: that was that lady's husband. Who I met many times when visiting Biogirl in California, and hung out with, and got into hijinks with. I wanted to be mad that he didn't remember me, but I didn't remember him really either so I guess that wouldn't be fair.

THE POINT IS. I ran into people I knew among the throngs of people in New York. So maybe it makes sense that Carrie keeps running into Big and Aidan everywhere.

Nordic Boy and I also felt super proud of ourselves for accidentally showing up at Moma during their free-admission night. Ha ha! Saving money! We then promptly went to their cafe and ordered a lemonade and an apple cider and didn't look at the prices and paid $20 for that. Rookie mistake.

Trump Tower is gaudy, y'all. I know, this is shocking news.

There were some celebrity sightings, which are totally boring, but let me just tell you one. Ok, two. I saw Mrs. Brady. And that lady is so short and tiny, you guys. And her head is really big. That is not a nice thing to say, but I just have to. Also, Mike Holmes. The only reason that one is interesting (if you even know who he is at all, which likely you may not) is that he was walking down a Manhattan street totally dressed in his get-up- the one he wears on his show. I always wonder with people who wear the same thing on their show all the time: do they dress like that every day? Like, did Captian Kangaroo wear that red jacket to go to the Olive Garden or Kmart or anything? Well, Mike Holmes is committed to his outfit. I just want you to know that.

Speaking of Kmart, Nordic Boy was totally fascinated with the entrance to Kmart in the subway. Like, in an out-of-proportional way. Leave it to a midwest kid to be that impressed with a Kmart.

We saw The Motherfucker with the Hat, which was good, except for the Motherfucker with the unsilent cell phone sitting right behind us. THREE TIMES. The cell phone rang three separate times.

When we saw How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, there was a row of teen girls behind us that were having the straight up vapors over Daniel Radcliffe. Like I thought there might be fainting. And whenever there was cause to clap at the end of a song, these girls screamed so loud that it blew our hair forward. I didn't know that humans could make sounds that loud. Turns out, the powerful mix of Harry Potter and teen girl hormones is a magical amplification system.

Best New York moment: a sunny day, in front of a beautiful little cafe. Tables are set up on the sidewalk, people are eating. Things are happy. An old woman wearing a bedazzled headwrap and Sophia Loren sunglasses walks by and loudly says, to no one in particular: "I don't know WHY we have to always have this kind of SHIT right on the sidewalk. GAWD."

Saw the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I wanted to lick the clothes.

Also wandered in to the Cooper Hewitt design museum, which was showing an exhibit of Van Cleef and Arpels gigantic brooches and other ridiculous jewels. The crowd in the museum was even better to look at than the exhibit. It was like me and Nordic Boy were lost in a sea of Mrs. Howells.

Going to New York can kind of wig me out a little bit, seeing as how I spent the first 20 years of my life basically being told I was going to end up living there by all of my mentors. Then I did live there for dance school for a while, and when I left, it was only for a breif period- at least that's what I thought at the time. It was like my adulthood was geographically a given in my mind until I was about 20 years old. I never thought to picture myself anywhere else. The vision of my future adulthood that I always had in my head as a kid was me living my life in New York. No one questioned that around me, and the adults in my world actively steered me in this direction, so I didn't question it either. So when I go there now, it can feel strange. To be so far from what I was literally trained to be. I don't have regrets about where my life has ended up- I am happy with who I am now and how I've chosen to do something totally different. But being there, especially in certain specific spots (Lincoln Center is particularly ouchie, for example), it's not regret I feel, but it's something equally uncomfortable. A queasy feeling in my stomach, and sometimes a little mist in my eyeball area. Who was that kid that I used to be? Where did that all go? Whatever the answer, there is no going back. And that can be hard to process for me. I don't think I have ever reconciled that for myself. I don't think I'm supposed to.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled Seattle-ness.

2011-05-30T09:01:00.001-07:00

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Nooh Yawk

2011-05-28T04:15:00.001-07:00

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In the cab

2011-05-26T19:30:00.001-07:00

Me: Well! That was great! Honestly. I was really thoroughly impressed with Harry Potter in that.

Nordic Boy: Apparently not impressed enough to stop calling him Harry Potter.

Me: Whoops.

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Expecto Patronum

2011-05-26T15:51:00.001-07:00

Sitting in the ultra nosebleed seats, waiting for "How to Succeed in Business" to start. There sure are a lot of teens here, and they seem awfully excited to see John Laroquette. I hope they won't be too disappointed when they realize they have to sit through lots and lots of Daniel Radcliffe. Someone should have warned them about that.

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2011-05-26T11:03:00.001-07:00

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