30-40 mile gusts of wind in my city today, most of my area has a power outage, my dude got stuck at work, it is cold and grey, and the streets are ghostly empty.
I bundled up, went for a two hour walk, and didn't see a soul. Put the latest Daughter album into my ears, thought about my dad, let the tears blow right off my eyeballs into the wind, and tried to remember myself.
Shallows, by Daughter
It is fall and even though we live in a house on a small urban-sized lot, we thankfully have a lot of trees, both in our yard as well as in the neighborhood as a whole. We may get a lot of rain in Seattle but the upside is that green things will grow, and grow, and often cannot be stopped from growing. During this time of year, when the leaves fall and our yards and sidewalks are covered in gorgeous reds, yellows, and oranges, this is the time of year that most assuredly, most viciously, drives my next door neighbor BAT POO POO NUTBALLS inside, although she is too mild mannered to show it.
For the most part, I love my next door neighbor, Maria. Maria is a sweet, kind elderly lady who wears smart hats and waves hello whenever I walk by. The only thing about Maria is that she is kind of obsessed with having a perfect yard. You should see it. You could eat off that shit. She sweeps her sidewalk and porch every day, often more than once a day. She has a landscaper come and make sure everything is trimmed, clipped, mowed, shaped, licked, frosted, cherry on top, amen. I have seen Maria literally move small rocks into more of a uniform line on her ground. To be honest I am quite jealous of that dang yard. Ours is horrible next to hers, and I know that has to pain her something terrible. We often have construction scraps and dirt heaps and all sorts of renovation ugliness everywhere, and we have not invested one bit of attention to our yard because of it. It really is terrible, and I feel bad for Maria about it. I only can say in our defense that some day, I know, for sure, that we will have a passable yard too, once we get to that project on the project list. That day, however, is not today. And it burns Maria to a crisp, I just know it. How do I know it? Because this is what she does. She comes out of her house, and she sweeps the leaves on her porch, collects them, and puts them in a yard waste bag. Then she sweeps off her sidewalk, collects the leaves, and puts them in a yard waste bag. Then she sweeps our sidewalk, collects the leaves, and piles them onto the bottom of our entry stairs. And then she sweeps a little ways down our street, and collects the leaves, and piles those onto the bottom of our entry stairs. So. When we come home after work, our side of the street will be totally pristine, except for the fact that there will be a pile of leaves, sometimes as many as 5 steps deep of our entryway, piled up, waiting for us. If you try to walk through it (which is mostly what we do because we have just gotten home from work and it is dark), you cannot judge where the steps are and so you are likely to misjudge and maybe if your name is ME and you tend to be wearing heels you may or may not completely or almost completely bite it which is a hell of a way to be greeted by your front steps each day. I do not know what Maria is saying to us with this gesture. Is she genuinely trying to be helpful? Here, I have swept up all of the leaves and made a lovely pile so as to make it easy for you to collect and put in your own goddamn yard waste you effing slovenly hovel-owning kids. Or is Maria trying to murder us via our own detritus? You will not sweep your shit up so you must DIE, DIE, DIE! I do not know.
The week and the month went where now? Sheeeeeeeeit.
Lightning round of what I've been doing: I got a bad haircut, I did budget stuff at work one day that caused me to dream IN MATH that night, a hipster hit on me (maybe for my bad haircut? A possible hipster siren song) but I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, I bought plane tickets to Michigan that cost me lots of hundies, and my city has been totally engulfed in thick spooky fog.
That is all. Another week down the drain.
It was my birthday last week. The first birthday of my whole life without my dad. As the day approached, I felt more and more dread about it, and honestly I just didn't even want it to happen. People had started to ask me about what I would like to do this year, and my responses ranged from "whateverIdon'tknowIjust...[trailing off]" to "NOT FEELING IT DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT" to "nothing. I guess? I don't know. Something?" It was a lovely soup of confusing messages. Luckily, I have people in my life who know how to cut through the baloney talk (I am currently fluent in baloney talk) and know that it really doesn't matter what the venue- a party, a quiet evening, a home-cooked meal- what I really needed was a reminder that I am loved. Nordic Boy and the gang proceeded to ignore my weird mumblings and be bossy about the whole thing and orchestrated several birthday activities for me. Thank goodness. Here are some of the things that got cooked up.
A small group of my favorite Seattle pals gathered up for a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant. We got a private room in the back (sitting in the back rooms of restaurants feels like the mafia, only without the impending threat of violence), and ate up. The restaurant could not have been more tasty and the people running that restaurant were de-fricking-lightful. They gave us free bottles of Prosecco all around and the best, most warm service. Afterwards we went back to my house and we had cupcakes and there were presents and everyone sang to me and is there anything more awkward than having the birthday song being sung to you, but I loved it because what are friends for if not to embarrass you with their love for you.
My friends Alli and Map, in their lifelong tradition of showing up at my door whenever I need them no matter what, both flew to Seattle for a long weekend which was so, so lovely of them. I love those girls so much, I can't even tell you. I boohoo-ed a little bit with Alli the first day that she arrived, just talking about all my FEEEEEEEELINGS, but then Friday and Saturday I did not get teary once, you guys. The thing is that I have gotten weepy at least once a day, every day, for the past 5 months. A non-crying day is kind of a big deal these days, and those girls made it happen. How? Example: there was a point in the weekend where one of them yelled out in confusion "What the FUCK is a pudenda and do I have one?" and how can you be sad when that is being yelled at you? You cannot.
Nordic Boy took me out to dinner one night and to a ballet show afterward. The show was three pieces by Twyla Tharp and one of them is a classic of hers that is set to a series of Frank Sinatra songs. Those songs are so common to our ears because Sinatra is so iconic and they are everywhere- in movies, in ads, whatever-- it's almost like I don't really hear the songs anymore. The show made me really listen to a lot of it in a way I hadn't for a while, and hey, news flash, they are pretty much great songs. I am just only now discovering this, because I am super ahead of the times. I was watching the ballet, and the song "Strangers in the Night" came on, and is there a song that seems more corny than that song? But dudes. It is not corny, is what I sat there and realized. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the dance, maybe it was the night, maybe it is the mood I have been in. It made me think about how well I am loved. I looked over at Nordic Boy. He was already looking at me.
(If you want to give it a listen).
A couple of days ago, I got to ride a ferry for my work day because I got to go present my knowledges to another library system (what? I KNOW THINGS) and wow was it a gorgeous, splendiferous day to ride around on a boat. I love you, Seattle!
Out with Seattle summer gorgeousness, in with Seattle fall/winter/spring drippiness! Crap. Let's all stay in and read.
You know what is irritating? People scolding each other on the social media Tweetbook or whatever when there is a joke made about tv, or movies, or Miley Cyrus, and the scold is along the lines of "Stop talking about Breaking Bad and start paying attention to the war on SYRIA, DUMBFACE." Listen, I get that many people are not as politically engaged as they should be. I am not going to argue that. But let me just say something on behalf of one segment of the Dumbface demographic, and that is this: I can know about Syria while also making a joke about Duck Dynasty, ok? It is possible to do both of those, by one human body. And maybe I want to do one of those on the Tweetbook and not the other. My tweetbooks are not representative of all the thoughts I am capable of having. Ok? Ok. So just stop that. Signed, Dumbface.
I shall now proceed with talking about the pop cultures and the books. Don't freak out.
TV
Breaking Bad
I don't know what I could possibly add to the discussion about Breaking Bad that hasn't already been said by someone else, but I think it should be stated that Vince Gilligan is trying to kill us all with that show. I mean, good god. The anxiety! Also, I just have to say that for as gangster/evil as Walt has gotten, I love that they still have him run like a doofy dad. Every time he runs, all flat-footed, it is awesome.
Parks and Rec
Fall tv is around the corner! While we wait, I would like to live inside the Parks and Rec gag reels. Actually, not just while we wait. For all times.
Quick Draw
One of those millions of Hulu original shows. This old west comedy is all improvised and there are some good laughs in it. I've watched a few and I shall keep going. The main character has an old school comedy silliness that I love- it's like an updated Bob Denver quality or something.
Sister Wives
I don't know why I started watching this but now I can't stop. Please send help. You know the thing about reality shows, whether it was Osbournes or Kardashians or Sister Wives or Jon and Kate Plus 8 or Jersey Shore or Real Housewives Duck Dynasty or whatever? NOTHING HAPPENS EVER. Like, there will be a whole episode where a Real Housewife will go to dinner. That is it. I watched an episode of Sister Wives last night where a lot of the episode was the whole clan cleaning their yard. I am watching YARD WORK ON TV, you guys. So it's polygamist yard work, but still. Really?
Newsroom
I am behind the curve on this one- I just watched the very first two episodes. So far (I know I am not saying anything new about the Sorkin) there is way too much BITCHEZ BE CRAYZEE for me to hands down love it. Like, do the ladies have to be quite so hysterical? Just tone it down a wee skosh, would be good. I do like it enough to keep watching though (says the lady who binge watches Sister Wives. QUALITY STANDARDS).
Books
Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
This one was so delightful, in so many ways. The main character, Ifemelu, grows up in Nigeria, immigrates to the US as an adult, and then returns to Nigeria again. Thematically, it delves deeply into being an outsider as an immigrant, becoming less and less so, and then the experience of being somewhat of an outsider in one's home country as a result. I think the reviews I have seen of this talk a good deal about the gender/class/race issues, for good reason, but not enough about how overall, this is a love story. Ifemelu falls in love with a boy in her school growing up, then has to leave him behind when she immigrates, and the question of whether they will find each other again when she returns is a lovely story.
Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me, by Ellen Forney
I am a fan of Forney's illustration style and her voice overall, and this one doesn't disappoint in those ways. Her depiction of her own depression and its effect on her personal life and her ability to make art (and her fears about not being able to make art) were so honest.
A Dog Called Homeless, by Sarah Lean
A kid's novel about a girl who has lost her mom. A sensitive, comforting story, but I didn't care for it overall. I have discovered that I am one of those people that finds no comfort at all in themes where the message is "your loved one isn't all the way dead because they live on in your heart." Because I am a crusty adult person. I would recommend it for kids though.
Drama, by Raina Telgemeier
Such a light, charming graphic novel about middle school drama geeks. There is friendship drama and romance drama, but all in a very harmless happy way, where everything works out and things never get too bad to begin with. I would have loved this in 6th grade.
A Land More Kind Than Home, by Wiley Cash
Engrossing setting, fascinating characters. Story about what happens when a charismatic preacher's secretive practices run amok, and people start dying because of it. The only thing I would have liked more of is more development on what made the characters tick. The bad guy was so horrible- but there wasn't much background about why. And what was it about him that was so charismatic, exactly? But maybe the ambiguity was sort of the point. Could be.
Tell the Wolves I'm Home, by Carol Rifka Brunt
It's weird to think about it now, but there was a small era of time when I was little that I hated my brother. Like, I HATED him. But I also loved him so much, I wanted to be around him all the time and followed him everywhere. Except I hated him. But loved him. Both. This story is such a good take on the complicated love/hate that can go on between siblings, both young and older, as well as the sad historical moment that was the early days of AIDS. The characters were the kind that stay with you for a while after reading, and there is a character called Toby that just broke my heart all up. He's the saddest character I have come across in a while.
My Friend Dahmer, by Derf Backderf
Although I thought the drawings were good and it definitely held my interest, I am not sure what to really take away from this. In a sense hearing any anecdotes from someone who knew Dahmer in high school are interesting just because it's hard to think of him as a person with a childhood, but I couldn't help but think that the author was placing significance to their encounters in a way that seems dubious to me. I mean, if Dahmer was strange in high school, wouldn't everything seem creepy or significant in hindsight, knowing what we know now? So, not sure what to make of this account. Plus, they weren't really friends, so that was kind of a stretch, but I guess "My Acquaintance Dahmer" doesn't sound as good.
That's all I have time for today. Never enough time to catch you up on everything!
I don't want to leave on that icky last book. How about a song that I have been listening to lately?
Song for Zula, Phosphorescent
It is 90 degrees outside today! I believe I am the only person in all of Seattle that is happy about this. I just want to get out there and BAKE IT LIKE A POLAROID PICTURE. I know that lyric doesn't make sense when changed that way, but wheeeee I am sun drunk and so who cares.
Hey, so the other day, Nordic Boy and I drove up to our house and there were FIVE raccoons just chillin' on our front porch. It was maybe 5pm. Aren't raccoons supposed to be creatures of the night? Is that not the pact that they have agreed to with us? Nordic Boy and I started up our front stairs, saw the raccoon gang, and we backed our shit up and got back into our car to discuss what the hell we should do next. Do you think we are fraidy cats? I don't care because raccoons are mothereffing badasses and they will tear you a new crack crater if you mess with them. It took a few minutes but they decided to move along- they paraded down our front stairs, looked us in the face as we sat in our car, and they were all "THUG LIFE" and walked right past us and crossed the street into our neighbor's yard.
Did I tell you that when I was in Chicago a few months ago, Alli and I were taking an afternoon stroll through her neighborhood and we were walking by these train tracks and we saw a pack of 4 skunks waddling along a few yards away from us? What is with my only seeing smallish wild mammals in packs? Thank goodness the skunks were not startled by us or else they surely would have did that nasty shart-like spray on us or what have you.
I am super well-versed in the ways of nature, can't you tell? A regular Marlin Perkins.
In other news, we worked on our bathroom this weekend. Want to see?
Here's what it looked like before we started:
It's no secret that in Seattle we get a lot of rain. 99% of the time it's misty rain, or foggy rain, or drizzly rain, or a steady soggy rain that saturates you to your core, like you've never been dry a day in your life. However, rarely do we get what I think of as a Midwest-style late summer downpour, starting with a hot muggy day that ripens into fat, heavy drops that pop out of a weirdly brownish gray sky in the afternoon, and then continues into a full scale thunder and lightning storm at night. I love that kind of rain. It's loud but somehow soothing at the same time. It makes me want to run outside in it but it also makes me want to hunker down with my dude under a blanket, somehow, both. It's a sexy rain.
We're having sexy rain right now. How about a sexy tune to go with it?
Rhye (The Fall)
I adore the first-day-of-school photos that populate my Facebook feed this time of year. They are the best! So much excited cuteness- cute smiles, cute outfits, cute little book bags. To die for. How are all these kids so excited for school? I was never excited for school, unless it was dance school. I remember starting kindergarten and being all "what the FUCK is this dumb sit-in-a-line and nap-on-a-mat bullcrap?" Only without the cusswords, which I did not fully embrace until middle school. By high school I was married to the cussword, until death do us part. Cussword child bride. I remember once, early on in kindergarten- like maybe my first week- I had decided school was for the birds and tried to tantrum my way out of getting on the bus. My mom was not having that shit and physically placed me on the bus and was all BUH-bye and I was off. I should have known- tantrums did not work on my mom. I still tried them every once in a while though. Worth a shot.
This weekend I went to a barbecue where I found out a dear friend of mine is moving away. I am simultaneously really excited for her but pretty much royally bummed with cheese for me. It seems as though I have to have a large majority of beloved pals who are several states away from me, like, as a rule. Frickety frack.
The other thing that happened this weekend was that I got an email, out of the clear blue sky, from a friend that I used to know from my THE-AH-TAH days saying that she's in town. We had lunch and it was delightful as well as fascinating. She has been living in California growing (medical) marijuana for the past few years and making a freaking fortune off of it. She has now quit the business and is tooling around the country in a car, just doing whatever. So far she has visited Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Oregon, Washington, and was headed to Arizona next. She has no responsibilities, no home (currently anyway), and no plans. She just stays with friends or in hotels and just...whatevers. Like a monied hobo. I know it makes me terribly provincial but it sort of blew my mind a little bit.
That's whass happenin these days.
Ok, so I just looked back at the bloggie and I haven't talked about books for months! MONTHHHHS. What sort of cockamamie librarian am I? I mean, honestly. What in the Sam Hill is going on around these parts?
To be fair, one major thing that has been going on around here, of course, is the fact that my reading habits were majorly stymied after my dad died. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, and for the first time in my literate life, I wasn't reading. At first it was because I just wasn't able to focus on anything for more than a few minutes due to extreme SPACEY-NESS which has nothing to do with Kevin Spacey although I kind of want it to be related to that, but rather a much-increased talent for glassy-eyed staring. Then when the Kevin Spacey-ness wore off a little bit I just sort of started avoiding reading because one of the great pleasures of reading in my life, for me, has been talking about books with my dad. And the thought of reading something and not calling my dad to talk about it was kind of unbearable to me. Then, some friends of mine said that they were going to do "Infinite Summer," which, if you haven't heard of that, is a thing that people do where they take a whole summer to form a book club just in order to read Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace, which is a honkin' 5 million pages long (ok, so it's 1200 pages or so but same diff). And I gathered my non-reading, Kevin Spacey, glassy-eyed self and said SIGN ME UP. Because, hey! I haven't been able to page through anything for weeks and weeks but a book the size of Dwayne Johnson's beefy left buttock? SURE THING GUYS!
Good news: it did get me reading again. I read about 75 pages, just because all my friends were doing it. And then that made me think: hey! I can read again! HOORAY FOR PEER PRESSURE! Kids, peer pressure can be really an awesome thing, is what no one tells you. Anyway. After 75 pages, I really, really, truly, hand-over-heartedly, did not want to read another goddamn page of that goddamn book. At least right now. I keep reading blogs and articles that say you really have to read through page 200 before shit gets good. And I understand that 200 pages out of 1200 is really not that far into the whole dang thing. BUT. I think that in my current state of affairs, asking me to wait 200 pages of having feelings of Totalis Snoozefestius is kind of asking too much of me, at this juncture. So, I am declaring Infinite Summer over for me. Sad horns!
However, I have moved on to many other books that are a reasonable amount of pages (I mean, honestly 1200 pages? GET TO THE POINT DUDE) and although I still have this visceral feeling of wanting to pick up the phone and talk to my dad about them, I am dealing with it. I still have you guys to talk bookishness with! For this time, I'll forgo my usual lightning round of books and just do one. I'll catch you up with more soon.
Eleanor and Park, by Rainbow Rowell
My friend Alli had a guy friend in high school named Steve and they were majorly in love with each other, only they didn't really say anything about it. They were friends, and weren't dating, but their underwear practically went up in flames when they were around each other. They would watch movies together at her house and they didn't make out or anything but they did this thing that can only really be described as petting each others' faces. Like, can you picture what that means? They would caress each other, on the face. AND THAT IS IT. To this day that is the funniest, weirdest shit I can think of and I adore it so much. Such pent up sexy feelings and no way to express them! I GUESS I WILL PET YOUR FACE? CAN WE MAKE THAT A THING? Anyway, this book will make you think about being in love as a teen because it's intense, and overwhelming, and really powerful. I have seen some reviewers say that they didn't like it because they don't see how the two characters could fall so hard and so fast for each other which, ha-what? You must not have been hanging with the teens I know (or the teen I was). It is achingly nostalgic. So much so that I think teen readers will like it but adult readers will lurve it. It is charmingly funny at some points too. Not as funny as heavy-face-petting, but funny.
More books on deck soon! Lates, my pretties!
The most important thing I need to say is that I have discovered Melissa Gilbert on the interwebs. Half Pint be tweeting! Unfortunately she does not have a lot of shit to talk about Nellie Oleson or her raccoon named Jasper, and I am confused that she is neither married to Manly nor is she dating Rob Lowe but rather is having matrimony with Mark from Thirtysomething, but still. I will take it. And yes, I am excited to discover that she has recently moved and lives in Michigan, not 45 minutes away from where my Mom lives. When next I go to my mom's I will practically be SMELLING the lemon verbena! What? No, it is not weird. What do you mean?
On a related note: when I went to the beach a couple of weeks ago, there was this building that looked just like the schoolhouse on Little House, and Nordic Boy said "they need to round up some kids to make a bell for that building" and I said "Tinker Jones!" and if you understand what we were talking about there, we are friends.
Here are some Consumables that are kind of dusty because I can't seem to keep up lately.
Star Trek: Into Darkness
Could it be that I never talked about this in a former Consumables? I don't think I did, but I saw it a long time ago. I thought the first JJ Abrams reboot of Star Trek didn't have the character development and thinky-think stuff (as we intellectuals call it) that I want out of my Star Trek, but this time around, I was so INTO it being explosions and chases, mainly because I saw it at a time when I was steeped in pure sadness and all I wanted was loud escapism. Draw from that whatever conclusions you will about the role loud escapism plays for people. Plus they did make Spock confront FEEEEEELINGS and really Spock isn't Spock without a little Vulcan therapy breakthrough, so check and check on that. Also, I love the Cumberbatch, but I had all sorts of opinions about Khan casting that pointed to a non-Cumberbatch villain so I was really torn about that whole thing and OMG NERD RED ALERT STOP TALKING.
Ironman 3
Also saw this in my Cannot-See-Anything-At-All-Heavy-Or-I-Will-Fall-Apart phase. I really miss the days when Robert Downey Jr played other things. I mean the smart aleck thing is charming and all but remember when he was Charlie Chaplin and remember when he was Less Than Zero-ing, and remember when he was in Soapdish? He's going to mix it up again some day, right? Also, the Pepper Potts stuff is just yucky. Someone do a Women's Studies thesis on that shit, will you? Despite all of these comments, I enjoyed that movie a bunch. Because things blow up! And there are jokes! Again, that is exactly all I could really enjoy at the time.
Bunheads
Aw man, this didn't get renewed. Rats. I know the copying of the Gilmore Girls was a bit on the ridiculous side, but really, if you're going to copy something, the Gilmore Girls is not a bad choice. The thing I adored about this show the most was that it blows the Bechdel Test right out of the water. The show is full of ladies! And they are talking about lots of things other than dudes! It was kind of amazing that way. But it's no longer. Bye, lady town.
Breaking Pointe
When I first started watching this show I was alternately delighted (reality show about professional ballet dancers who are rocking the art form and the show actually shows that instead of the dumb way dancers usually get shown in the pop cultures) and also mortified (the first season showcased a dysfunctional romance that was played up for it's The Hills-ness and I was mortified about the whole thing), but the second season is so much better. It now focuses on some things that I find so heartwarming, heartbreaking, and compelling about dancers. The thing about ballet dancers is that really, there is no such thing as being famous as a dancer, like, outside of the small specialized world of dance. No one in non-dance America knows who Maria Tallchief is or who Julie Kent is or who Misty Copeland is. And no one is getting rich off of being a ballet dancer these days. Like no one. It's not like acting or painting or writing or singing where there are a lot of starving artists but there is some chance that you might bust through and become a huge star or make some sort of buck. It just doesn't work that way for dancers. But the training and dedication is so high, so ridiculous, and people who do it are so freaking committed to it. I know I am biased, but it's really moving to me. The whole show doesn't get into it as much as I want it to (there does need to be some amounts of reality tv drama after all), but there are glimpses. I watched the latest one last night and I bawled. Then again, I am a bit of a crybaby lately so maybe that isn't the best measure.
The Heat
I had forgotten how freaking likable Sandra Bullock is in movies. Pair her up with Melissa McCarthy and one is liable to crack from likableness.
Orange is the New Black
I know this has been talked about ad nauseum but let me just join in on it. I was not sold on it for the first couple of episodes but then all of a sudden it was sooooo compelling to me I couldn't wait to watch it every day. First of all, talk about blowing up the Bechdel Test. LADIES AS FULL HUMAN BEINGS EVERYWHERE! Plus Captain Janeway being a ferrrreaking badass. Plus, you show me another piece of mainstream pop culture that confronts privilege. Class privilege, white privilege, hetero privilege. Where else is that even being hinted at? Yeah, it's got some stuff I don't like, but overall, it sort of bowls me over with things that I have never seen on tv before.
The Daily Show
I was afraid I was going to go into some sort of withdrawal without my daily dose of Jon Stewart, but his hiatus was made bearable by the guest hosting of John Oliver. Can John Oliver now have his own show too, please? I want to see both of them every day.
The Colbert Report
I know it's not news, but when Stephen Colbert did that business where he danced around to Daft Punk, it was too much delightfulness for me to bear. Aside from the set up and the comedy, I just feel like I want my whole life to be made up of silly dancing through any situation. Nordic Boy and I do a fair amount of this in the secrecy of our home, but I am thinking why can't we be doing this throughout the day? Can I please do that? I don't think my employer would mind. Maybe I should try it.
It was another lazy weekend at my house. We basically cleaned, went for walks, did home improvement stuff, grocery shopped, cooked (I made a bangin' strawberry shortcake, oh my gahhhh it was good), wrote letters, rearranged my bedroom furniture, read a novel from beginning to end, and went to a movie. I guess when I type it out it doesn't sound that lazy, but for me, what that means is that I didn't do anything with anybody, except Nordic Boy, who I don't mean to downgrade to not-an-anybody, but you know what I mean.
We finally found the bathroom backsplash tile of our dreams and we went to the tile store to order it up. You know what is super awesome? When Nordic Boy and I go to places that sell building supplies (like tile stores) and the salesdudes only address Nordic Boy and act like I am invisible. Because ladyfolk do not understand the construction buildy stuff. I know what you are thinking: that compared to Nordic Boy, I in fact do not much understand the construction buildy stuff but MISSING THE POINT YOU ARE says me (as Yoda). I understand it plenty enough to be spoken to. Also, the salesdude (who was a real bro-ham type of guy, see yes, I can prejudge too because EQUALITY) was strange because this is what happened. We brought him the tile sample board, which basically says the name of the tile brand across the top ("Tile-o-rama Designs, Inc" or some such), and then a sample of the tile is stuck on the board, and under that it says the name of that specific tile ("Tiley Cyrus, WHITE"). We say that we need x amount of the tile, the guy looks it up on his magic 'pooter (by which I mean his computer, not his butthole, you understand) and he orders it, the end. Except in our case, bro-ham looks it up, and looks it up, and looks it up, and peers at the screen like it is a palantir (NERD POINTS WUT), all the while shaking his head and saying "looks like this is no longer available" and making disappointed face. Finally, he says he is going to go in the back and ask his colleagues if they might be able to find this rare tile of Atlantis for us, and disappears in the back for like 15 minutes. Then he comes back out and says "ok! I've found it! Turns out that it is from the Tile-o-RAMA line, and it's called the Tiley CYRUS." Um. Wow, Encyclopedia Brown. That's what it says on the mutha fracking BOARD.
We ended up not buying them from that guy.
I have been floating through my days this summer, not paying much attention to things that I normally would. Summer usually means trips, a full up social calendar, and tons of time in the sunshine (Seattle summers are so gorgeous, the entire city freaks out this time every year). I have been living in the present to a sort of ridiculous degree, which is mostly a good thing, but can also be kind of weird, when I stop to think about it. I find I am having awkward conversations with people where they are asking me perfectly reasonable things like "do you have any upcoming trips planned?" or "what are you doing this weekend?" or "do you want to come to my party next month?" and I feel like I am being asked to perform time travel. The future? Plan something? What sort of crazy talk is that? My days (outside of work, that is- I can get it up for work because people aren't paying me to be a damn hippie) consist of me only thinking of the very next thing that might happen. I read a book for a while, until my stomach grumbles, and then I find something to eat, and then I might look outside and decide to go for a walk, and while on a walk, if a friend calls and asks me if I want to go out, I will do that. Just, consecutive decision making, one thing at a time. It's sort of awesome. I don't mean to overstate this- I mean when I think about it I am still doing things that are autopilot for me, like getting my groceries and cleaning my house and things like that, so I don't mean to say that my life lacks any structure. I am a pretty structured-time kind of lady (I know, so sexy) so certain things are just always going to be happening in my life because I have always been that way. So, just know that I am not patting myself on the back too much over Living in the Moment, Man. I'm just saying. For me, it's been loosey goosey.The downside of it is (aside from awkward conversations where I answer "I don't know" a hundred times because I have never before noticed how often future planning comes up in conversation but people are doing a poop-ton of planning, it turns out) is that things move a lot slower this way, and I can sometimes feel like life is moving along super fast for everyone else, and I am standing still, and look at all these things people are getting done, and what have I done, and omg, nothing, I have done nothing, and summer is almost over and I missed the whole thing, ahhhhhhhh! Life is not a race but it can sure feel like one when your friends have had babies, written books, gone on vacations, or remodeled their homes all during a span of time where you've just been dicking around wondering if now would be a good time to go for a walk or not.
Anyway, my weekend was really lovely. Much of it was spent at home with that dude of mine. We chatted and read and home improved a bit. On Sunday evening we took Delium out for a belated birthday dinner at a fancy restaurant and played Last Word with the topic: Comfy Mystery TV series, which lasted like an hour, because once somebody utters aloud the phrase "Father Dowling Mysteries" then it's required that we talk about that for ten minutes before someone else says "Rosemary and Thyme."
When Delium arrived at our house to pick us up for dinner, he rang the doorbell, Nordic Boy answered the door, Delium walked in, and I stood up and did a sort of Russian style jumpy jig while yell-singing "Ha---ppy birthday happybirthdayhappybirthday! Ha---ppy birthday, happybirthdayhappybirthday!" and Nordic Boy and Delium watched that shit for like, half a second before full on joining in, jumping, raising the roof, and throwing in some turns. "HA---PPY BIRTHDAY HAPPYBIRTHDAYHAPPYBIRTHDAY!" it went, from all three of us. This makes me think about how these dudes help me to live in the present all the time, by not thinking too much before deciding to act silly, by being present enough to join in on some dumb shit right in the moment, by not being worried about looking weird in front of each other, by bringing out joyfulness in something as simple as saying hello. I know that sooner or later this slow pace I have been in will end and I will speed up my life again. But I have people who bring out the present so vividly and exuberantly all the time, I won't lose this feeling.
Brain potpourri, type something fast. GO.
My yard now has a large hole in the front of it, which is covered by some wood planks and an orange cone. We have to remove the big oil tank that is buried in our front yard, you see, so when we get a chance we (ha ha, who am I kidding the "we" means me and Nordic Boy minus me) go out there and dig a little each day. Every time I think our yard cannot get any uglier, I surprise myself. We just keep upping that game! Best neighbors EVAH. The orange cone is really the classy icing on the cake, but I can't just put boards across the hole. That's how little kids constantly fell into holes on Little House on the Prairie (Carrie in the well, saved by an alcoholic neighbor, then Nancy in a different well, saved by Little Lou, the incarcerated clown) so if there is one thing I learned from Little House, it's that you clearly mark holes the ground. Well, that and also that God looks like Ernest Borgnine.
My yard shame caused us to skip going to our annual neighborhood "Night Out" event. I just couldn't face the neighbors, with their pretty yards. I think I am taking my yard shame a bit too far, what do you think?
I gave out the tiniest of whines the other day and Alli and Map called me up, at the same time, conference call style, and left me a message saying they are buying plane tickets to come visit me for my birthday this year. I mean, seriously. I just gave a small whiff of a whine, and they rallied. Who has friends like this, I ask you? Thankfully, I do.
Nordic Boy, Biogirl, her dude, and I went to the beach for the weekend. I decided I was going to not check email the entire time I was away (um, Nobel Prize committee, are you taking note? THE SACRIFICE). During that time I was notified by the library that all of my requests were about to unsuspend if I didn't manage the dates on them, and since I didn't see that email, I returned to all of my holds coming in at the same time. Like, 40 novels, all waiting for me. Lesson: NEVER DON'T CHECK EMAIL. (Somehow I think this is not the lesson I wanted).
Is Robin Thicke cute or gross? I honestly do not know which it is.
When I was at the ocean, it was the first time I had been near the ocean since scattering my Dad's ashes. I was totally not expecting this, but I fucking bawled. Is going to the ocean ruined for me now? How much would that suck?
Do you speak Hindi? If you do, this tshirt is super funny, and I kind of want one.
Why do I keep hearing about Bruce Willis giving grumpy interviews? I feel like this has become a pattern in my life. Another day, another interviewer getting pooped on (so far, thankfully metaphorically speaking) by David Addison.
Oh hey. Just thought I would give you a taste of what it feels like inside of my head. Want to hear another one?
I saw a book display that said "Find Your True North" and my first thought was about why they were doing a display about Kimye's baby.
(curtsy left, curtsy right)
Consumables!
Scandal
Calgon, take me away with your soapy, sudsy self! I didn't think I would particularly like this, but I felt like I should watch it just because Only African American Lady Lead on a TeeVee Drama is enough to make me get behind that. But then...I watched every last one of these, beginning to end, in about 2 weeks. Obsessively! First of all, Kerry Washington and I, who I am not saying look anything alike because that would be milk-shoot-out-of-nose-and-possibly-other-holes ridiculous, do have one thing in common and that is skin tone. Which means that I study, with hawk-like focus, her lipstick and eye shadow shades. Educational, is basically what I am saying. Aside from that, it is just the right kind of melodrama for me. Dumb enough to be fun, but not so dumb that I can't take it. And there are some good surprises in there, where a plot twist will happen and I will say WHAAAAAA, which is always delightful. It's all kinds of intrigue and betrayal and corruption and sexy business. Plus, Mr. Katimsky from My So Called Life! And Noel from Felicity! And Desmond from Lost! I went from "Ok, I guess I will try and watch this" to "WHEN IS SEASON THREE OUT YET...NOW? HOW ABOUT NOW? HOW ABOUT NOW?" pretty quickly.
Camp
Basically, I am watching this because I love those fricking kids from Dance Academy so much that I would follow them anywhere, and they are all on this show! Like, they just took the entire cast and brought them over from Australia and made them fake some American accents (except, they don't quite have that down perfectly, I'm afraid) and put them on this show. Except Kat--where's Kat? If you don't watch Dance Academy (and WHY AREN'T YOU) you won't care about any of that. The show is basically a modern take on those tv movies set in summer camp that used to play all the time when I was a kid. Like "Poison Ivy"-- that's the one with Michael J. Fox and Nancy McKeon from Facts of Life having camp hijinks. And that "Little Darlings" one with Tatum O'Neal and Kristy McNichol. Or Meatballs. I like it just like I liked those when I was kid. I am a grown ass woman now, I know that. Don't you think I know that?
Mad Men
I finished the latest Mad Men a while ago, but I just have to mention it because aren't they doing a good job of making Don Draper look skanked OUT? He is just like a sweaty greasy burnt up cigarette at this point. Also, can we just make this entire show about Joan and Peggy? And maybe more Roger too? I just want to watch them all the time, please. Can we make that happen? Get on it, Matthew Weiner.
Top of the Lake
Speaking of Peggy Oleson! She's a badass detective in New Zealand in this one and it's like Prime Suspect meets Twin Peaks, only not as weird as Twin Peaks (but still kind of weird). Holly Hunter is this cult leader, and Faramir from Lord of the Rings is Peggy Oleson's boss, and Yaxley from Harry Potter is a scary suspect. Wait, let me start again. I even confused myself there for a second. This young girl discovers she is pregnant and disappears, and Elizabeth Moss is the detective in charge of finding her amidst a creepy small town that doesn't want to help solve the case. It's a pretty dark story, and what I liked most about it was that although the main mystery does eventually get solved, there are many subplots of mysterious things that don't get solved and leave you thinking. I am sad that there aren't going to be any more of these.
Orange is the New Black
I am about half way through these and I'm loving it so far. I shall probably have more to say about it when I am done with it, but for now, I think you should watch it so we can talk about it. Ok?
Ragnarok
I have been listening to the Judge John Hodgman podcast and chuckling out loud in public from it, so I decided to watch this stand up special by Mr. Hodgman. His humor is right up my alley, for example: "I am growing my mustache because I am going to play a young Wilford Brimley in a Cocoon prequel that I am writing in my mind." Come on. That's funny! It also has a surprisingly sweet ending that I wasn't expecting. I may have cried a little bit during the ending. But then again, I am much more of a cry baby these days than I used to be, so I don't know what the eff that really says.
Red
I only watched this because I will watch Helen Mirren chew her lunch if given the opportunity, and I was surprised that I enjoyed it as much as I did. Grumpy interviewee Bruce Willis not withstanding.
FULL CIRCLE POST is what you just witnessed. I know. It's amazing.
Let's go out with a summery song, shall we?
Sunshine Barato, by Mosquitos
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)