No Talking Time

Have you ever taken one of those Myers Briggs tests- you know the one where it tells you how introverted or extroverted you are? Is that a legit thing? The test, I mean? I have skepticism about such categorizations but I have no basis for my skepticism, so I am also skeptical of my own skepticism. (Wow, dudes, I swear I am not even smoking a doobie right now). Anyway, I have taken that test a few times throughout my life and although I feel like I have gone through phases where I have a super crazy extroverted time (hello, early 20s) and then times when I have not wanted to talk to a single solitary soul for like, a year (hello 1994 and 2003), my results are always the same. I pretty much always fall right near the dead center between extrovert and introvert, with perhaps just a teeny leaning toward introvert.

I'm taking a trip to see some pals and my family, but first I stopped off in one of my favorite towns for three days so I could indulge the introvert half of my innards. Madison, where I lived for one year back in the 90s when I was a youngster, holds a special place in my heart because it is, more than anywhere else, a place where my life totally changed. I was one person before I moved there, and a different one after I left there, some of that for the better and some of it not, and it's hard to explain the whole enchilada but suffice it to say I just love that town.

So I checked myself into a cute inn and proceeded to spend hours and hours by myself, wandering aimlessly and thinking about Big Things and nothing at all. Three days may not seem like a long time, but when was the last time you did nothing but pay attention to your own thoughts for three days? It felt crazy extravagant.

All this contemplative stuff did have two fun breaks- I met up with MetaLeah and her trophy husband for dinner one night, and another night MetaLeah and I met up with Katie, a longtime blog friend who is now an in-person friend. My streak of awesome blog friends who turn out to be more awesome in person continues! I managed to snap out of my introspective haze for each event and form words of communication. At least I hope I did.

Thanks, Madison.

Consumables #64

Hey wow, you guys. Just when I write something pretty grumpy, you come back at me with such niceness and making-me-feel-better-ness. I got so many lovely emails and messages. Just goes to show you that despite all my complaining, people are so lovely. At least you are. Thank you so much. If you wrote me, I promise I will write you back- I am still catching up with that.

My dad is out of ICU as of yesterday (woo hoo!) and so although he's still in the hospital for now, things are back to normal levels of freaked out, rather than feelings-of-pukiness levels of freaked out. Which hey, I will so take that.

I don't know quite how to transition from that into talking about the teevees and what's silly in my world, but hey, you know me, I will just babble into it. Back to our regularly scheduled doofiness. My weekend was pretty low-key- the kind where I pretty much stayed in my house all the livelong day each day, but I did make it out to the first barbecue party of the year, and dudes, I had to leave by 8pm even though I was having fun, solely because I was turning into a popsicle. Seattle summers don't often start before July every year (despite the entire greater metropolitan area bitching and moaning about it in perfect unison starting in March, but- not to get all sciencey on you- did you know that the weather systems do not change based on the sheer force of complaints it receives? At least that is my understanding but do not ask me to show my work on that story problem). Anyway, we all got our asses outside and barbecued it up, wearing coats and gloves and scarves. I am always a bit jealous of those warm-blooded people in these situations, who don't seem bothered at all and show up in their sandals when it's 50 degrees out, while I fold into a ball and cry ice cube tears.

Ok, shut up about the mothersucking weather and get to some Consumables! There are so many! I am so backed up on Consumables! I need Correctol for ladies for my Consumables! (gross)

In the Teevee!

Flying Wild Alaska
Ok, I know that this seems like another one of those reality shows like Ice Road Truckers or whatever, and yes, it totally is that. So if you don't think that watching bush pilots in Alaska who have to fly in crazy weather conditions appealing, maybe not so much. But here's the thing that hooked me about the show- it does a really great job of highlighting the communities in this part of Alaska and how they live. Like, if someone gets sick on a reservation and they need to go the hospital, they depend on these bush pilots to get them there. Or, if they want to eat strawberries, like, ever. Also, I find the daughter of the main two pilots, Ariel, totes adorbs.

Game of Thrones
I have been putting off starting this series because just based on what people say about it, I knew that it would be one of those things that I would glom onto and not be able to look away from for days and days in a way that is probably not healthy. And, yes. This has happened. I have only watched about 4 episodes and I can't wait to get back to it. Goodbye other things in life. See you when I am caught up on Game of Thrones. (As an aside: please tell me that things will get more complicated with the Dothraki folks, because dudes, that shit is racist so far).

Birdsong
Fleur Delecour/Eva from Gossip Girl gets romantical with a young soldier. It's unrequited, it's WWI, it's Masterpiece Theatre, you get the picture.

Movies!
Left by the Ship
This documentary follows 4 adults (out of thousands) in the Phillipines who were fathered by US soldiers. Unlike many other countries, where the US has recognized similar populations of children, Filipino children are not recognized. The film did a good job of showing what the lives of the 4 children look like and how the circumstance of their birth affected them personally. I would have liked it more if it had gotten into more of the legal and political background of the situation.

Carol Channing: Larger Than Life
From the interviews and clips in this documentary, Carol Channing is as awesome and endearing as you might imagine her to be. I am fascinated with performers who are actors who really don't act, or singers who really don't sing. That whole "Carol Channing" thing that she does on stage? That's really just how she is, for reals, if you can believe that, which I do. I am not saying there's anything wrong with it- I am a fan, actually. I just find it totally intriguing that one could make a whole singing/acting career out of being a kooky lady. A hardworking kooky lady, don't get me wrong, but you know what I mean?

Woman of the Year
I don't know if I can express the joy I get out of a Spencer Tracy Katherine Hepburn movie. It's just so delicious to me. And dang, that lady can rock a pantsuit like nobody since.

Barefoot in the Park
There is really nothing to this movie except for Jane Fonda and Robert Redford being gorgeous (sorry Neil Simon), and you know what? That is good enough for me.

Page One: Inside the New York Times
I don't know that this illuminated me on anything in particular (newspapers are struggling, will the New York Times survive, what is the role of bloggers and tv news in relation to the NYT) but I still found it fascinating in a behind-the-scenes way. Just watching David Carr and Andrew Ross Sorkin et al run around doing their thing was cool. (Hi, nerd alert).

Books!

Washington Square, by Henry James
This was the book I took to New York with me, just because I wanted something extra New Yorky. I had never read any Henry James before, and for some reason I somehow got it into my head that he was (embarrassed librarian bomb about to go off, get ready) a sort of spooky writer, kind of like an Edgar Allen Poe type person. Where the HAIL I got that idea I don't even know. So anyway, I really liked the book, but the entire time I was reading it I kept thinking "yes, yes, social manners, but where are the ghosts and stuff?" Turns out, I was thinking of M.R. James. Not Henry James. Major oopsy.

Stories I Only Tell My Friends, by Rob Lowe
As far as celebrity autobiographies go, it wasn't the best, and it wasn't the worst. Anyone who has been famous for as long as Rob Lowe has been has a vast collection of celebrity-filled stories. He dated Cary Grant's daughter as a kid and hung out with her and her dad at their house. He knew John F. Kennedy Jr. He's childhood besties with Charlie Sheen. However, he spends way, way too much time on his experience with The Outsiders. He also barely says anything about dating Melissa Gilbert for years which (1) Little House on the Prairie fans SERIOUSLY want to know about, and (2) has to suck for Melissa because in her autobiography she talks a lot about how much she was in luuuuuuv with that guy and now she barely gets a mention back? Ouch.

Doctor Proctor's Fart Powder, by Jo Nesbo
Part of the reason I read this was because I knew I would be seeing Nesbo speak in New York, and I didn't really want to read any of his grown up books at that particular time, so I went for his kid series. There is adventure, friendship, and farts. I know a lot of kids (hi, nephews) who would love this book. And some adults.

Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James
Let me just say that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and now that I have read it, I still don't see what all the fuss is about. It's a mediocre romance with some spanking thrown in. Ok. I kept thinking... "and?" Chalk me up for I-don't-get-it, party of one.

Breadcrumbs, by Anne Ursu
I probably should have written about this one first, because let's face it, after all that mess up until now, who is still reading this? Oh well. If you've stuck with me this far, here's what I have to say about this book. I loved it. It's a kid book that transcends age, and a fantasy book that transcends genre. I felt like this book was talking to me and shit. Like, I was reading it, and thinking "book, can you see me?" If you have ever had a friend so super close that they felt like a part of the inside of you, and then that person didn't want to be your friend anymore, and you had to ask yourself, "how hard am I willing to try to get this person back? Or do I just let them go?" this book may be talking to you too. I read it in a restaurant by myself and cried, like, right out in public and stuff. I am sure the waiter was concerned.

Hoo wee! That is all. Have a lovely week!

2011 kicks the bucket

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.

One more serious one and then I am done I swear

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.

Only You Can Prevent Reading This

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!

Dropped Like It's Hot

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?

Marcia Marcia Marcia

I would just like to start off by pointing out that not once this whole season have I complained about the weather, being cold, rain, gray skies, lack of sunshine, nothing. And to tell you the truth, there were few days that I even wanted to. Our little pop culture librarian. She's finally growing up.


Today the weather made me a little cranky though. My inner brat shall not be squelched completely.

To counterbalance this lack of annoying weather-whining, I know I have been a leetle whiney about work lo these past few months. There have been times that I have thought about work so much that it put me off wanting to post anything here, because I just could not See Past It to write about anything else. That sentence I just wrote there makes me want to pukey up a cukey. Honestly, lady. Get a grip.

This got me thinking the question that is so tedious: why do I blog again?

For about 98% of the time I have been writing this blog (look kids! math!), I have had the attitude that I was writing about something that made me happy (yes, I am one of those people that writes and then guffaws at my own self, like Bob Hope or Harvey Korman or Jimmy Fallon) and then throwing it out into the world like a message in a bottle (so un-green, throwing shit in the water like that), and if people happen to see it, wow, that's pretty cool. I am old enough to still marvel at the power of the Interwebs in this way. I have never marketed the bloggy, or told my friends about it (some of them know by now, but not because I was obnoxious hey-Read-My-Blog-Girl), or anything like that. Most of my blog friends are people who I have commented on their blog, so then they come over and comment on mine, all neighborly. I know there are other people out there, but I don't know how you found me, or what makes you stay, if you do. After a couple of years, when I started to get curious about this question, I installed a sitemeter, which was fun for a while (look! someone stopped by for 3 minutes one time from Tanzania and then never returned!), but then I got rid of it because I kind of liked not knowing how many people were out there. And I started to get all philisophical about whether It Mattered that there were three people reading, or three hundred, and I wanted to be all "it makes no difference, yo, I am nonchalant," because I like to try to impress myself sometimes.

So most of the time, I just write, and post, and I really have a pretty hazy idea if anyone is reading beyond like, ten people. And if anyone ever comments to say howdy, I really do feel delighted, each and every time. And if anyone ever says anything to me in person about the blog, well then that just blows my mind and bugs me out. It really does. I don't tend to get a lot of comments, and it's not like people are knocking down my door to tell me that they read this stuff, so each time it happens I am still agog. The internet: it is magic. Oftentimes it can be porny magic, but it has other magics too. Really it does.

Yesterday, I got an email from a blog friend, telling me that she basically met a new BFF because they both read my blog. Like, dudes. Friend love was found in the comments section of this little space. Birdies, rainbows, hearts, kitties! You know how, in Sleepless in Seattle, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan meet because they both are listening to that horrible Dr. Marcia Fieldstone? Hey, I was totally that horrible Dr. Marcia Fieldstone! Sort of! So yay me! That is way better than getting a lot of hits on a sitemeter. If only there was a meter that counted happy shit like this, I would totes sign up for that.

I have been feeling a little yawny about blogland lately. My blogland in particular. I think I was on my way to asking that tedious question of myself again. But now, I won't. I blog because I just like to. Simple as that. And if nice people meet each other in my blog comments and want to leave their Seattle houseboat and boring Bill Pullman in Baltimore (it is sort of scary how much I remember about that movie) and meet on the top of the Empire State Building, and I could be Dr. Marcia for them, then hells yes. Total bonus.

New Year Meme

I do it almost every year, so here it is again...

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?

I got laid off. (I know I never told you guys about that, but don't worry, I'm ok, I have a different but similar job to what I had before, with the same library system).

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
None last year, and sort of for this year. I had to make them about not changing stuff, instead of changing stuff, because I am ornery like that.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes! My favorite librarian friend, Ol' Soggypants (aka The Soggy Librarian). Also, some other friends too. Yay bebes!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No. This has been the first year in a few years that I've been able to say no to that question. I hope it's the beginning of a good streak.

5. What countries did you visit?
Leavenworth. Hey, anywhere that boasts that much lederhosen is a foreign country as far as I am concerned.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
Less work stress. There is a little voice in my mind saying "fat chance, lady!" but I am ignoring that voice.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
That getting laid off day was a doozie. Also, my birthday, both because it was my birthday which was full of fun stuff, and also because my dad went back to the hospital that day, and I found out about my new job that day, which is sort of the perfect metaphor for my life. Big happy stuff, and big sad stuff all mixed together for me to figure out.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I felt like I got through some sticky work days with my integrity still in tact. (I am sort of hating the fact that work is figuring so largely into this list. Not like me at all, goddamn 2010).

9. What was your biggest failure?
I want to be a dick about the word "failure," but instead I will play nice and answer the question. I tried to be there for a friend, and that friend was totally not receptive, and so I let go of it, and I felt like a failure for that one for a while. But then I realized that sometimes not being there for someone is actually being there for someone, because if that's what they need from you, then there you go. See how I rationalize things?

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nope. I was healthy this year, which I'm super thankful for.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Sad to say it was the poop pipe replacement, because poop transport is super important. On a more fun note, my tickets to see plays and dance shows and art shows were definitely my favorite.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Biogirl, for getting a new job and a new place to live. Way to get it done, lady. Also, Nordic Boy, just because of his unrelenting daily awesomeness. Consistent guy, he is.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Shit, I don't even want to talk about it.

14. Where did most of your money go?
I can't believe the poop pipe is being mentioned again! Those things are super expensive, man.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The fact that Biogirl moved in down the street from me! In fact, just thinking about it I have to say eeeeee! all over again. Also, visiting my folks, Nordic Boy's folks, Alli and Chris, and seeing Map. Also, still having a job was not so much exciting but a relief the size of planet earth.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
I'll save that til the end of the list.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
- happier or sadder? both
- richer or poorer? richer, I think, but just by a little
- thinner or fatter? the same (and I can't tell you how much I think that question is fucked up)

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I had a ton of fun this year, but I wish I'd had even more. Greedy bastard.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Driving.

20. How did you spend the holidays?
Equal parts at home having cozy times with Nordic Boy and visiting with various friends. Good stuff.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
I've been in freefall for some time now.

22. How many one-night stands?
None. God, one-night stands were the worst. Who ever thought that was a good idea? I was a dumb young lady.

23. What was your favorite TV program?
The Daily Show/Colbert Report. And So You Think You Can Dance. Oh shut up, you watch dumb tv too.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I can only think of one person that I truly can say I hate. And I have hated them for a few years. Unfortunately, I think that the hatred levels might have gone up a little this year.

25. What was the best book you read?
Looking over my list of things read this year, there were very few things that rocked my world. I must have just picked poorly. However, I loved Tales from Outer Suburbia, by Shaun Tan. Not published in 2010, but still, it was new to me.

26. What was your favorite film of this year?
Hard one! I liked The King's Speech, and I Am Love, and Herb and Dorothy, and The American. Oh I don't know what my favorite was.

27. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Just me being me. I like to dress up.

28 Whom did you miss?
The usual suspects: my folks, my many faraway loved ones.

29. Who was the best new person you met?
To be literal about the term "new person," The Soggy Librarian's little munchkin is pretty awesome.

30. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.
Sometimes you just have to let people be. Let them be sad, or assholey, or absent, or jagoffs, or flakey. It doesn't matter how there for them you want to be, or how good your reasons are for wanting things to be different. Sometimes what you want just doesn't matter. That's what I learned this year. That sounds way more depressing than it really is. Learning it actually has made me feel better about stuff. Go figure.

Almost forgot #16. This is the song that reminds me of this year.

I Am Not A Trapper Keeper

My birthday is coming up, and I have barely given it a moment's thought, you guys. There was a time when I made a big hairy deal about my birthday. Party! Cake! Fancy outfit! Friends! Family! A present for myself! Field trips! Ah, me! I love you! I am a big believer in self love (dirty!).


You know what? I am trading all of that in. Well, most of it in. Technically, when I look at those things on that list I just made, I will still gladly partake of all of those things. I love cake! Who doesn't want cake? Nutpants people, that's who.

But here is the part of my birthday that I have given up. I no longer have any interest, whatsoever, in planning shit for my own birthday. I corral, organize, plan, administer all the livelong day at my job. And the thought of corralling, organizing, planning, or administering anything FOR FUN has just drained right out of me. I just don't want to do it. So if anyone wants to bring me ice cream on a platter, or give me presents, or what have you, I am totally down with that. But I ain't spending this here birthday organizing NOTHING, you dig?

I just wanted to be emphatic about that for a moment. Ok, I'm done now.

Ima now do a weekend wrap up, because the weekend was a glorious thing. First of all, I got home from work on Friday night to find a package from my parents containing cookies from my mom, and birthday money. Cookies and money! I do believe I have discovered the secret to birthday happiness.

On Saturday, who should show up at my front door but blogfriend @AnnieRauh! (Ok, well I invited her but I wanted to make it sound like more awesomeness kept showing up at my door unexpectedly, like the cookies and money). We walked to a neighborhood cafe for brunch where I only managed to talk about work for like 10 minutes (good job, me) and we also got maybe a small lecture from our waitress about the integrity of Annie's sandwich. I have since decided that "integrity of the sandwich" just might be a great band name. We then hiked over to a park (sorry, Midwestern Annie, for all the pesky hills) before she had to be on her way. I love blogfriends.

That night Nordic Boy and I went to see a dance show. One of the pieces we saw was Glass Pieces, which I have wanted to see live, full out ever since I was about 13 years old. And man oh man was it worth the wait. Jerome Robbins and Phillip Glass and super costumes and staging and sweet ass dancing. I was kind of high after I saw it. And can I just tell you how much I love that Nordic Boy dude, because he enjoys this stuff, and really gets it, and has come to so many shows with me over the years that he has developed a good eye and vocabulary about it all? I love all of my friends and family but I have got to say that the dance part of my brain can get awful lonely at times. It sort of hurts on a level that I can't quite explain. So there was a moment during the show where a particularly breathtaking piece of choreography happened, and Nordic Boy squeezed my hand, and it made me want to cry, in a good way. He not only was there, but he was enjoying it, and paying attention, and knew enough to see what I was seeing, and share that with me. Swoony.

On Sunday morning I met up with some lovely librarian ladies for brunch where ok, yes, we talked about work, but we talked about other things too. Hopscotch brought along her little baby cutie pie so we got some time in staring at him, which honestly I could do all day long. The cuteness on that kid would stop a train, I tell you.

After that I stopped over at Delium's house, where he hand delivered me a postcard that he wrote me while he was in Italy last week. Never let it be said that that man won't save money on postage. Then Biogirl and I went on a field trip to the burbs where we got lost in a mall parking lot. And then we got lost in a mall. Both Biogirl and I have a good sense of direction, but there is something about this particular place that makes us lose all sense of where we are. Luckily, we made it out alive.

Then Nordic Boy and I went to the recycling station at the local dump, as we sometimes do on a Sunday. Biogirl pointed out that this just might be the closest thing our family has to Sunday worship. Recycling at the dump. Amen.

Then Nordic Boy and I went to the mall (two different malls in ONE DAY, people. I am not a mall person, so this was truly spectacular). And, as we were walking through Nordstrom, Nordic Boy asked me if I was still having trouble finding a good pair of boots. To which I said YES, and also that I am breaking up with the boot industry for now. He then asked me where I had looked for boots, and I listed off every shoe store known to humanity, including online. Also including Nordstrom, where we were standing. And then, this happened.

Him: So you couldn't find anything at ANY of those places?
Me: Nope.
Him: Wow. That's a lot of places. You really looked in every one of those places?
Me: SCOURED.
Him: So you're just going to be bootless for now?
Me: I guess. I literally have perused every boot on earth.
Him: Well, I don't know. What about those?

And he pointed at this pair of boots. Right there in front of us. AND THEY WERE LOVELY.

Me: Wait, but, how?
Him: Those are cool, right?
Me: But! Wait, those were not here when I looked last week! Nor were they on the website! Where did they come from?
Him: I don't know. But I think you should try them on.

So I did, and they rocked, and I got them. Because Nordic Boy is apparently the Shoe Whisperer.

Sunday evening was spent on the couch watching tivo'd episodes of Stewart and Colbert. While eating my birthday cookies. And thinking about my new boots. That I bought with my birthday money. None of which I had to organize or orchestrate myself.

Belonging

When I was back in Michigan this month, I had a chance to go to a party where there were friends of mine with whom I went to elementary school, middle school, high school. It was at Allison's mom's house.


1. Emily and I sneaked into the kitchen before lunch was ready and pilfered some mini spinach pies to chomp on, because it smelled delicious and we were starving. Allison's mom yelled at us to get the hell out of her kitchen until she was ready. We scurried out, laughing like we were 12 years old.
2. Allison and Steph told a hilarious story about when they went to Obama's inauguration and the travel logistics broke down. They kept calling other groups of people "those yahoos" and I thought about how I say that phrase too, but I don't hear it from my Seattle friends very much. Do Seattle people say "those yahoos"? Not in my experience.
3. Everyone was loud, jovial, warm, and hugged me as though they just saw me yesterday even though some of them haven't seen me in at least 10 years, and hugged Nordic Boy even though they don't know him from the side of a barn.

I totally kept thinking to myself, in a wistful sort of way: THESE ARE SO TOTALLY MY PEOPLE.

I also got to spend a lot of time at my parents' house in Michigan.
1. My nephew started to sneeze and then plugged his nose to stop it from coming out. My mom said "don't do that! Your face will blow up!" which caused him to fall on the floor laughing.
2. Four little kids piled on top of my teeny tiny dad, all wanting to sit on his lap at the same time, and his arms seemed strangely capable of gathering them all up in one big ball of rugrat.
3. My brother, whose official title should be Most Rambunctious Uncle In the Universe, played Bloody Murder with all the kids in the yard at dusk. Screeching and giggling noises throughout the neighborhood at dinner time, every night.
4. My sister and brother, with their inside jokes, and me, the little sister, still not getting what they are talking about even after all these years. That's ok if they're cliquey though, because my cousin Rosita and I are sort of the same way.
5. My relatives from New Zealand, Fiji, Australia, calling on the phone and us all passing the phone around, as we always do when we're home at the same time. Me missing them all so much it sort of hurts.

This family? My people.

When I got back to Seattle, I've gone out with different library buds for drinks, dinners, and lunches.
1. Look at all the cute dresses on all the cute librarians. So delightful.
2. We talk about work, and books, and movies, and Big Ideas and Philosophy. Ooh la la. There are many things that make all of us say What. The. Fuck? And so we do. Say it a lot.
3. We walk around this city and we all revel in the sheer gorgeousness of it all, and we eat a lot of amazing food. And there are sparkling skyscrapers. And mountains. And trees.
4. We are going through a big bad budget time this year, and people cry when it gets too much and the rest of us hug them.

And wait, maybe THESE are my people.

And then I go back to work, and I get into my daily grind and Nordic Boy gets into his. Me: work work work. Him: Work work work.
1. Biogirl and I manage, even though we are busier than SNOT, to text and call each other throughout the day with updates on the minutia of our lives that probably mean nothing to anyone but us. How did that meeting go? And did you get a chance to eat lunch? And my coworker just told me the funniest thing.
2. When Nordic Boy goes to Portland this week and I have to work late, Delium calls me up and tells me that he'll pick up dinner for us both and to just come over after work and not worry about finding dinner on my own. We then eat pad thai and laugh until we want to die even though my day had just been shit on a stick.
3. I'll listen to a sweet mix tape (CD, but whatever, I call it a mix tape) from Jeanine. And Maddie's tweets will crack me up. And I'll get a nice email from another blog friend, I'm sure, since you guys are awesome and you check in every so often.
4.  Our other friends make us all dinner reservations, and yet more dear ones invite us over. These are all people who think of us and go out of their way. Who make an effort, consistently. Who never let their lives get in the way of remembering to include us.

Those are completely my people.

Nordic Boy is coming home from Portland this afternoon.
1. I know when I get home he'll hug me until my spine kind of cracks. In a good way.
2. I know we'll probably get take out and talk each other's ears off. Although we talk a lot while he's away, we always have so much to say when he gets back, as if we hadn't been talking at all for a while.
3. I know that he'll fall asleep before I do, and that I'll listen to him breathing before I finally go to sleep. I also know that he'll wake up before I do, and kiss me awake.

He's for so totally sure my people.

I've got a lot of people, people. How lucky is that?

Consumables #24

First of all, thank you guys so much for all the silly stuff you sent me after my Festival of Whines the other day. You so funny!


I shall start out the Consumables with some weirdo clip that Leah posted to the blog comments. Really, what can you say about this? Nothing.

Stone Reader
Geeky book lover's documentary. A dude's favorite book is written by an author no one seems to have heard of, and who never wrote another thing, so he goes on a quest to find him. You will either really like this or be so bored you'll want to cry. No middle ground.

The Matrix
I've been half-watching movies that are showing on tv, and this was on this week. Neo and Trinity, the most stone-faced lovers in all of pop culture, yes?

Photos, by Sammy Davis Jr.
Frank, Dean, Marilyn, Lauren, Betty, Shirley, just everyone looking glamorous and gorgeous. Mm, mm, mm.

And some songs that got me through the week...

Babelonia, by School of Seven Bells

Swoon, by The Chemical Brothers
(I know they are not really saying this, but I like to sing along during the bridge by saying "here's mud in your eye" because doesn't that sound like what they are saying)?

Tightrope, by Janelle Monae

Sunny, by Ella Fitzgerald

I plan to take the weekend by the balls, and I suggest you do the same, everyone.  Happy Friday!

Consumables #23

Dudes, I am so tired this week it hurts to type. Nordic Boy and I got buck wild with the home improvements and then on top of that there were other added stressors that were hella depressing and hectic and you add that all up and you've got brain deaditis. BLAH BLOO BLEE BLAH.*


The other day, Nordic Boy and I were working on the house, and the evening daylight was almost up and we weren't as far along on our project as we wanted. He turned to me at one point and said, and I quote, "Well, we can do as much as we can on this part now, and then in the twilight we can caulk."

In the twilight we can caulk. He's got the heart of a poet, that one.

So today, I am going to do Consumables a day early, because I just do not have one iota of energy to do anything else. Because of all the harried times over here, I haven't been consuming all that much in terms of movies and tv and the like. I heard that Snookie rang the bell at the NYSE and that President Obama was on The View and I ask you what sort of backwards up-is-down world are we living in? Because that seems like a pop culture switcheroo if I ever heard one.

So, no movies or tv this week, although we did limp into our house last night and make ourselves a sad, sad dinner of spaghetti made with undoctored sauce out of a bottle at 10pm, and tried to keep our eyes open while chewing half-heartedly by watching The Big Lebowski on tv. I thought working really hard, physically, was supposed to release endorphines or something and make you feel better about your troubles. And that tv was supposed to deaden the mind. Neither one of these, I am here to tell you, is true. Hopefully things will get better soon. Because this aggression will not stand, man.

Ok, so. Consumables.

The Silver Linings Playbook
The book jacket review blurb says "hilarious." It was good, but not hilarious. I found it quite melancholy with sardonic/witty overtones, which does not mean hilarious. Still, it was good. There was a large portion of the story that revolves around football and rabid football fans, and these are usually things that will make me fall dead asleep so if I still say it was good despite that, you should know that it was quite a good book.

While we have been working outside, we have plugged in Pandora and listened to some random stuff. Here's what has stuck in my brain.

Mistadobolina
There was a point where Nordic Boy was using his nailgun in exact rhythm with this song. And really, how could you not?

Living In Oblivion, by Anything Box
Oh, the early 90s. Thems was good times.

Never There, by Cake
I have a friend who used to date a dude in Cake, and after she told me about the dicky behavior I said I wouldn't listen to them anymore. That's right, SISTERHOOD, baby. They came on Pandora this weekend, and I just let it play. Does this constitute betrayal? Really, I was on a ladder in the middle of staple-gunning the shit out of my house. But I feel guilty about it.


I Put My Hand in There
My friend Jenny has a thing for Johnny Depp. I know, so do a lot of people. But she really does have a history with Johnny infatuation, all the way back to 21 Jump Street. I know, so do a lot of people. Just, in my world, I associate her with him. She also, completely separate from this, does a very uncanny Carol Channing impression. And how could you not love a girl like that? This week, this news story came out where it is being said that Johnny Depp's dream role would be to play Carol Channing. How weird is that? It's like Jenny's dream come true. Johnny AS Carol. Too much to bear. This news story made me get this song in my head and it just will not stop. And like many classic songs from musicals, the innuendo is strong, but really, Carol Channing? "Twist a little, turn a little, him a little, her a little, pressure with the thumbs, matrimony comes when, I put my hand in there!" Oh dear.
 
*tm _lovechild

Smiley things

1. I was telling someone about this link that the effervescent Miss Davies had on her blog the other day, and the person I was talking to pointed out that I, apparently, do not say "McDonald's." I say Mack Donald's. With a heavy emphasis on the Mack. MACK Donald's. How is it that I have gone my whole life and no one has pointed out this ridiculousness to me? It seems that discussing Happy Meals and Chicken Nuggets turns me into an old man from the South. "What would like for dinner, Peepaw?" "Why, I do believe I would like me some Mack Donald's!"

2. I was at this training for work yesterday, and we were learning supervisory stuff (aka how to not be an asshole boss). At the end of the training, the trainer asked us some questions to review what we had learned. It was the end of an 8 hour class, and we were all totally beyond done. At this precise moment, I got called on to answer the question. The trainer said "What are the two tools that we discussed that all supervisors should have at the beginning of every year?" Me: Blank stare. Her: "They both start with a "p." Me: "Um, I don't know. Pride and Prejudice?" Everyone in the room almost puked from laughter. What did I learn at this training? Tired library types plus bad literary jokes equals GUTBUSTER.

3. Speaking of bosses, do you refer to your boss as "boss" right in front of them? As in "Let me introduce you to Joe. He's my boss." I don't know why, but that's funny to me. Why not say "supervisor" or "manager" or "library director" or "CFO" or whatever? "This is my boss" just sounds funny.

4. At my work, we have an automated system that moves books and other items around. You return your book, it goes onto a conveyer belt thing, the magic robot machine scans the book and knows where it should go next (back to another branch to reshelve? back to another location to fill a request for someone?), and then the book gets deposited in the correct bin to be taken to its next location. (See the Picture Picture style short demo here). Each of the bins has a little computer attached to it that can detach and attach to different bins as we work. We call these computers "brains." This name causes me no end of hilarity, because I get emails that say things like this: "We really need more brains at this location. We have a serious shortage of brains. Can you help?" or "We have been juggling brains here because some are out for repair. Can you help us with our lost brains?" or even verbally from the work room, I can hear staff members talk to each other, saying things like "Oops! My brain fell on the floor!" or "Are you done with your brain? Can I borrow it?" or "Why isn't this working? Oh, I forgot to plug in my brain." I have worked here for how many years now? And still. Never stops being funny.

5. I saw this sign last weekend, and I have tried to come up with an occassion that could be classified as a "Cigar Emergency." I can't think of one.

6. I was singing along to "Bad Romance" in the car the other day, and I said "I want your lettuce shredded kiss in the stands." Instead of "leather studded kiss in the sand." I guess I don't really want a bad romance, as much as I want a healthy one during a sporting event of some sort.
7. This song came on my alarm this morning and woke me up. I stayed in bed, looked out my window, and listened to the whole thing before I got up. Ever hear a song that just hits you totally the right way, at the right moment? It's nice.

Consumables #18

Thank you so much for all the sweetness and light that you commented and emailed me yesterday and today. Each and every one of those things made me smile, laugh, or chortle. I love a good chortle.


And now, just so that I have to do some of the work too, I shall list out some more awesomeness in my life at the present time. And also combine it with my weekly consumables.

1. I went to visit my friends in the hospital the other day. They just had a baby and the baby is premature so they have been staying in the hospital for the past almost-three weeks, trying to get the little guy strong enough to come home. They are doing well, and they may get to all three go home in the next few days. They are handling the whole thing remarkably well and I am in awe of them. That kid has got some great parents right out of the gate.

2. I watched Elegy the other night. Now why would I watch a depressing movie about fucked up lonely people when I was feeling glum? I don't know what it is about me, but I love stories about fucked up lonely people. I am neither lonely nor fucked up (well, relatively un-fucked up. Maybe. I don't know), but yet I feel kinship with those people.

3. I also watched This Movie Is Not Yet Rated. Jack Valenti reminds me of Lorne Greene. And Lorne Greene, rather than reminding me of the original Battlestar Galactica, or Bonanza, makes me think of Alpo. Which is sort of a sad thing, really. That's the insightful thing I have to say about that movie.

4. I always forget to mention books in my Consumables posts. What kind of librarian am I, anyway? First I don't wear sweater sets and now this. Sheesh. This week I read a book called The Rebellion of Jane Clarke. It's historical fiction, set in the era leading up to the Revolutionary War, and it was quite good I thought. The mention of Sam Adams just makes me think of beer though. First Lorne Greene and now Sam Adams. Damn you, Don Drapers of the world.

5. Last night, there was a very pretty moon out. It was low in the sky, and silvery, and there were wisps of clouds that kept passing in front of it like gray ribbons. Nordic Boy and I opened up our living room window and sat on the couch and looked at it for a while. Our conversation went like this.

Me: There's this book called Life as We Knew It, and it's about this girl who is living a normal life with her family when a meteor hits the moon and knocks it off its axis, which causes the Earth to go kind of haywire because gravity gets thrown off, and most of the population dies off.
Him: You sure know how to make a moment really romantic, you know.
Me: There are earthquakes, tsunamis, the whole thing. And she has to learn how to survive in this new reality that's created by this event. It was a really good book.
Him: Sounds interesting.
Me: It's not real though. It's fiction.
Him: Um. Yeah. Thanks.

"It's not real though. It's fiction." Really, me?

And to think I am paid to talk to people about books.

S.U.N.C.

My favorite person-who-is-related-to-me is my cousin Rosita. Rosita totally cracks my shit up, and if you can do that you're likely to make it on my favorite people list. She rocks it.


When Rosita was in her teen years, she was, as many teens are, often annoyed by people. And when she was annoyed by people, she would tell me about what they had said to annoy her. She would imitate what they said, just how they said it, in great detail. And after she would go on and on with whatever long-winded obnoxious quote that the offender had delivered, she would wind up the whole thing by an emphatic Rosita-coined phrase. "Oh my god. Shut-up-nobody-cares!"

SHUT UP NOBODY CARES.

I don't know why, but this phrase totally cracks me up. The teen angst of it. The surly nature! Old people often get the reputation for being the curmudgeonly folk in our social circles, but really, it's the teens. SHUT UP NOBODY CARES. I mean, really, right? Ouch. It's, like, the ultimate dismissal. And I wish I could convey the tone that needs to be employed with this phrase. First of all, you have to say it super fast. Shutupnobodycares! And the disdain, it must drip. And you have to mean it, so so hard. It's the only way to say it.

I would like to interject here that Rosita is no longer a surly teen (and really, when she was a teen she wasn't all that high on the surly scale to begin with) and I haven't heard her say this phrase for many years. Surly teen phrases aside, I assure you she did not grow up to be an asshole. Ok then.

One time, many years after I had heard this phrase or even thought about it, I was hanging out with Biogirl. We were going to try a new restaurant, and we arrived at the building and pushed the button to wait for the elevator. As the doors opened and we got in, I said this:

"That elevator really took a long time to come down. I mean, it's a big building, but it's not THAT big. Seems like it should have been faster. Slow service from an elevator, it's really stupid. And wow, look they have fancy art on the wall inside the elevator. That seems so hoity-toit, to have something that expensive in the elevator. Of all things to spend money on, people. I mean, I am all for art in unexpected places, but this elevator doesn't even have good lighting. So the art is totally being wasted. It's ridiculous. I mean, just look at it. Can you even see that? I can't. The person who made that decision really does not know a thing about how to hang art. OH MY GOD SHUTUPNOBODYCARES."

I shutup'ed MY OWN SELF, everyone. I was talking, and talking, and complaining about some shit that does not even matter, and all of a sudden, it was like I left my own body and I could hear myself. And WOW was I annoying. So I had to give myself the old one two punch. One: Shut up. And two: Nobody Cares. It came out of me so strong, so organically, right from my core.

The big finish phrase? Made Biogirl literally almost fall on the floor laughing.

Since then, this has become a phrase that Biogirl and I have totally revived. Whenever we go on too long about something, especially a whine of some sort, we tell ourselves ShutUpNobodyCares. A bit of tough love for ourselves. Sure, we are kind of kidding, but really, we all know when we reach that point where we are being a big whiny crybaby and truly, nobody cares. So shut it.

Well, I don't know that we all know that. And there are probably times when I am doing it and don't know it as well. But for the times that I am doing that and I realize it? Best. phrase. ever.

The past week or two, I am having multiple pre-emptive shutupnobodycares moments. Before I even start to say something, I know I am in danger of a shutupnobodycares moment, so I stop myself. Hence, my post about not really having that much to say lately, and my other post about being Debbie Downer. And also my sparse blogging this week. All of these things feel supremely uncomfortable to me. Crisis, I can deal with. Happiness, also good for me. But general worry and malaise in a sort of cloud that hangs over things? Not really my strength. I usually can buckle down when things go really wrong, or suck it up when things are just sort of not ok and see the good. One or the other. I'm good at those. But this? I just sort of don't know what to say or do with myself. I suppose I was brought up with the "if you don't have anything productive to say, don't say anything" sentiment, and whether that's a good or bad sentiment, it's in me.

So that's where I am at these days. Trying not to go to the Shutupnobodycares place. And the reason? The reason is that everywhere around me right now, it's bad news. People around me are going through stuff, I'm going through stuff, and it's all pretty glum. And I feel the danger of throwing myself a big old whine and cheese party. Which will just make me feel more glum.

So today? I am giving myself a blog style shutupnobodycares. I shall spare you any of the whine that I could dole out. (You're welcome!) Instead, I am turning the tables. I want you, if you are so inclined, to tell me something good. Comment me something positive, something happy, something funny. Send me a link that will make me smile, or point me to a source that made you feel good about what's happening in your life, or in the world. Because I need that right now.

(And please, don't be alarmed- nothing horrible has happened to me. I am just totally feeling surrounded by bad news on a personal, local, and global scale lately, and it's fricking bumming me out and I DON'T LIKE IT. That's all. Nothing earth-shattering).

So...tell me something good.

Vacation over and out

Vacation is over. Here's some photos to remind me that it actually existed.

The main drag in Flint. This view reminds me of being a teen and heading out to dance clubs with unfortunate names like The Copa, or The Hot Rock. Which then makes me think of wine coolers. Despite this, I like this view.

Alli took this photo of a Flint pimp car. You can't see the pimpliciousness, but trust me, it was happening. Alli had the sense not to try and take a photo of the actual pimps that emerged from this car, but let me just tell you that Flint has full on pimps of the old school variety. Gold-topped walking canes, full length fur coats, zooty hats with feathers on them. They always remind me of peacocks when I see them.

My favorite store when I was growing up was Value City, where sometimes you could buy clothes by the pound. And now? CLOSED. Broke my heart. Not as much as when the doughnut shop (called Dyn-O-Bite, for god's sake) closed, but almost.

Frankenmuth, the fake-German town, all bedecked in Disney-ish Bavarianism. I don't care much for Frankenmuth, but yet somehow I always end up there. This trip was no exception. I must have a deep seated need to see people in Technicolor lederhosen or something.

This 7-11 played a pivotal role in my teen years. That's right, I said PIVOTAL.

Factories, factories, everywhere, even if they aren't functioning.

My pops.

My moms and pops. SO CUTE.

A display on the streets of Frankenmuth. Oh yeah.

Don't You Forget About Me

Hey, in all the bird-pooping hullabaloo that went on last week, I forgot to tell you that blog friend Annie from Madison came out to Seattle last week for a librarian shindig (or training, if you want to be technical) and she came to see me at my liberry and then we went out and had a nice meal and did I mention that blog friends are awesome? She was just as nice and funny and sweet as could be. And I managed to not make a fool out of myself by falling down or having a booger flap out of my nose or any of those other pesky things that could happen to me when I am in the flesh. So in terms of blog friends, I must now brag that I am holding strong at 100% awesome people.

Also in the 100% awesome camp: my weekend. The Spring Fakeout continues and I made it through an entire weekend without being a turd target for my local avian populations (or any other populations, just to be clear), so that's a positive start right there. That's one good thing about being crapped on: any other moment in your life you can congratulate yourself that you are not being crapped on currently. Like right now, as I type this? Not being pooped on. Score.

In other news, Nordic Boy and I went and ordered us up a new kitchen faucet this weekend. I don't know what it is about us, but whenever we need to buy anything for our house, and I mean ANYTHING, we always have to go through this rigmarole to special order it. We never, ever, pick out an item that is on the shelf, or in stock. We don't try to be difficult, but apparently we just are difficult by nature. (A companion band to Naughty By Nature, anyone? Nordic Boy and I headline as the emerging hip hop artists Difficult By Nature? To this I say: genius). Friday we went into the plumbing supply store and asked if they carry the faucet that we had picked out from the catalog. The manufacturer (Grohe) is one that this supplier advertises that they carry "the complete line of." They have a big display of every faucet you can think of. Except the one that we want. Of course. The salesperson goes on a long tangent trying to show us similar faucets. We, being the picky design bastards we are, don't want one LIKE the one we picked out. We want the one we picked out. He was annoyed with us, but he wrote our special order down and said that he would have to call around and see if he could get our part in from anyone in the state. In the whole state? Really? Yes, really. The guy says he will call us back later that afternoon. He takes our name, our number, and writes it all down.

He doesn't call back.

So we go in the next day and ask again. The person now helping us (a different guy) asks us who was helping us yesterday. We point out the person. And you know what that guy does? He looks us in the face and says he doesn't remember us.

Listen, I am not saying we are all that memorable. Like people who see us once have to remember. But he just saw us 24 hours ago, and argued with us about our faucet. It was a lengthy exchange. And now you don't remember us?

This is when Nordic Boy realizes that he can just order the dang thing hisself and we dropped and walked.

That'll teach you to not remember us. That is how Difficult By Nature rolls, holmes.

Speaking of gangster behavior (and please do not point out to me that internet ordering of Grohe fixtures cannot be found in the gangsta street code), somehow Nordic Boy and I have been ending our lights-out conversations at night with the following phrase: "Shut your face and go to sleep!" Somehow, this has become disproportionately funny to us. The lights go out, we talk a bit more, and then one of us will shout out "Shut your face and go to sleep!" and then we giggle a bit before drifting off to the see the sandman. Why, why is this funny? It is apropos of absolutely nothing, and I don't even know who started it. Still, I highly recommend it. It's so loving, is it not?

Happy Presi-Tines Day

I had this totally exhausting phone conversation the other day that lasted for hours and was way too emotional (I AM TOO LAZY TO BE THAT EMOTIONAL FOR MANY HOURS), and since it happened, I think that I just might be all out of words. So if you know me in real life, and you talk to me or ask me a question, and my only response is to say BLAH BLOO BLEE BLAH* to you, just nod and smile.

So let's just see what sort of blog post I can manage to string together. Let's just hope there are words involved, and that they make a modicum of sense.

Ooh, good sign. I used the word "modicum."

But what to write about? I could tell you that I spent my President's Day on a walk. The whole day, pretty much. I walked out of my front door and I just picked a direction and I walked for hours and hours. I walked so much that I could barely get myself home. And goddammit, I didn't think about the Presidents once, not even for a moment.

I could tell you about how Nordic Boy and I have attempted to watch The Olympics but have discovered that watching The Olympics is like Sominex to us. Give us Bob Costas and a carefully edited sappy athlete bio, and we will be in dreamland faster than you can say giant slalom.

Or I could tell you that I know I forgot to do my weekly Consumables post last week, but that I watched My Brother's Keeper, and Letters from Iwo Jima, and Food, Inc. Because, you know, that's a cheerful trifecta.

Or I could tell you about how I spent Valentine's Day. There were no presents or cards or chocolates or whatever it is you're supposed to do on that day (well, except for the gigantic Hallmark number that was apparently dipped in a glitter bath that we got from my mom who is incapable of sending me cards without a glitter crust on them, god bless her). We spent much of the day in the hardware store (Nordic Boy's true love) and the only Valentiney thing that happened was that I broke out into a hardware-store-inspired serenade on the way home wherein I sang Peter Cetera ballads with a plumbing or insulation theme ("You're the meaning in my life! You're my IN-SOOL-AY-SHON! You bring heating to my life! You're my IN-SOOL-AY-SHON!")

I could write about the dinner I had with BioGirl and my other friend H on Friday night, and how I interrupted our funny conversation about scary movies (which is scarier? Serial killer movies or paranormal movies?) by starting to talk about actual mortality and how that is actually the thing that scares me the most. I mean, aren't we all just afraid of dying? Or our loved ones dying? Isn't that what's scary? I thought it was interesting. Turns out it was just creepy. And it made my friends look at me weird. And stopped the conversation dead for a second. Ha ha, get it? DEAD.

Or I could just say this:
BLAH BLOO BLEE BLAH.

Yeah, let's go with that one.

*This phrase patented by Life of a Lovechild, for which I am eternally grateful.

Commentos! The Freshmaker!

You know that post I wrote yesterday about My-kell Boo-bleh? Here's the comment I got in response to it.

"Interesting article you got here. It would be great to read more about this topic. Thnx for posting that material."

Oh really? It would be great to read more about how Nordic Boy didn't know Michael Buble was real? Sorry, but there really isn't anything more to say about that. And would you really call anything I write here an "article?" Of course you would. This is fine, investigative journalism here, people. Oh, and also? Stupid ROBOT AUTOMATED COMMENTING MACHINE THING.

I wonder how many places that got posted? On how many blogs?

"I got fired today."
"Interesting article you got here. It would be great to read more about this topic. Thnx for posting that material."

"I have the flu and blew out a steaming snotball the size of a golf ball."
"Interesting article you got here. It would be great to read more about this topic. Thnx for posting that material."

"OMG I saw Robert Pattinson at the Dunkin' Doughnuts and as he leaned over the counter to choose his doughnut I walked behind him swiped the dandruff off his coat! And snorted it!"
"Interesting article you got here. It would be great to read more about this topic. Thnx for posting that material."

Today is De-Lurking Day. So come on out of the woodwork and say howdy, if you're so inclined. And ok fine, robots can de-lurk too.

I'm gonna bust a recap on your ass

I totally skipped doing my annual new year meme thingamabob, didn't I? I tried to do it, but it just wasn't hitting me right this year. (And what the hell kind of phrase is that? "Hitting me right"? That just doesn't sound good, when you really think about it).

Instead, I'll just do a brain dump of what things strike me about the year of aught nine. Ready? Ok.

2009 was the year that:

1. ...was just all kinds of seasonal. Usually, Seattle is not known for seasonalitism. Rather, we are known for two kinds of sky: either grey or blue. And it's mostly grey that wins. But this year! Seasons! We started out with a jackload of snow and then an outburst of spring, which was followed by a glawrious summer wherein I wore skirts and bare legs to my heart's content for weeks and weeks and weeks on end and rediscovered the joy that is popsicles. This was followed by a particularly pretty fall and now we are back to the grey days of yore.

2. ...our house got prettier. Ever since we bought our house, we have been in home improvement land, which is not only a land that Nordic Boy has a passport to live in, but he is also the Prime Minister of. We bought a place that needed a lot of work. A lotta, lotta work, actually. The past two years have been years where we do home improvements that are sexy to Nordic Boy, but not to me. Insulation! New roof! Water drainage! New electrical! New pipes! All things that are totally necessary, to be sure, but not if you are me and you have a decidedly shallow side that needs placating. This year, we got to do some of the stuff that we both love, not just stuff that he loves. What does that mean? That means making things pretty. Oh how I love to make things pretty. And the centerpiece of this prettyfication? OUR NEW COUCH! Besides being pretty, I am a big fan of getting my cozy on, and this couch has revolutionized the cozy. It has the perfect ergonomics for reading (sitting or horizontal), chatting with pals, watching a movie, making out, and the napping on this couch should just be illegal, it is so delicious. Plus it is so, so pretty.

3. ...we got our new dual flush toilet so that when we do a crapsie, we can have flushing OPTIONS. Because there are so many choices in life, why not with flushing?

4. ...Alli spent literally an entire day looking for a plane ticket to come and visit me and Map's husband surprised her with a plane ticket to join in. The effort Alli and Map put in for little old me made me feel loved and thankful for my awesome friends.

5. ...a friend passed away in the saddest way I can think of. I still can't quite wrap my mind around it completely.

6. ...I spent a fun few days at Alli and Chris' house where they drove us around the entirety of Chicago with no questions asked and made Nordic Boy and me laugh until our guts ached. I love those two.

7. ...I met blog friends for the first time and they were all more awesome than I could have hoped for. I mean, really, I was just hoping that they didn't smell bad or want to kill me or anything like that, and then they went and showed me up by being way cooler than I could have wished for.

8. ...my friend Hopscotch got knocked up and made me squeal with the excitement of it while I was at work. And I am not even a squealy type girl. But for her? Squeeeee!

9. ...I went to see lots of plays and ballets and dance shows. Thank you, job, for allowing me the cashola to do that.

10. ...I sang karaoke and scared my friends with my, um, enthusiasm.

11. ...we inaugurated a Vulcan fly-swatter as President of the You Nighted States.

12. ... I met the newly-born H and J's baby girl who is just a cutey and a half.

13. ... I shopped once again for a winter coat and rain appropriate shoes. FAIL.

14. ... I saw my BFF take a shit sandwich and turn it into a cherry pie. It's amazing to watch someone just be happier, and funnier, and more awesome by the minute. And she did that. And I got to see it.

15. ...I leapt into the 21st century via owning an iPhone. And eating pancakes out of a spray can.

Overall, I think that 2009 sucked for a lot of people. For me, it was a pretty good year. I had some work pressure, and some extended-family-type pressure, and some other various pressures, but I managed to not sweat it too much. I mean, I did sweat it some, but just the appropriate amount of sweatage. I then got back to more important things like doing silly dances and making up crazy songs, hanging out with my homies who always treat me with kindness, and hugging on my loverman until his eyes bug out. Priorities, dontcha know.

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope your 2009 didn't hurt too much and that 2010 kisses you right on the mouth.