Sign here

Oregon coast signs.

Nerd is the word

Driving with Biogirl, we see a "Do Not Pass" sign.

Her: None shall pass!
Me: You shall not pass! Fly, you fools!
Her: Wait, what?
Me: Gandalf. We're doing Gandalf, right?
Her: I was doing Monty Python.
Me: NERD WAR!

Recipe for a good month

I saw this birthday card recently that said the following: "Martin Luther King. Jr. gets one day where we celebrate his birthday. So calm down, Birthday Month People." It sort of cracked me up.

I mention that only because I want to emphasize that I didn't even set out to be a birthday month person this year, and yet, it just happened. This whole month has been super terrific happy times. These are among the things that have been making it grand.

1. Delium took me to see the Paul Taylor Dance Company who just so happened to be in town. They were so delicious and unitardy. I loved every minute of it.
2. Nordic Boy and I went to a fancypants restaurant and did a million-course tasting menu. The final course was brought out and the waiter explained what it was using not one word that either of us could define. It was also visually indecipherable. "You taste it first and tell me what it is," I said after the server had gone. Nordic Boy took a big bite and said "Oh, you'll like it. It tastes like a lemon muffin with Cool Whip!" Really, when eating fancy food you should take Nordic Boy with you for descriptive assistance.
3. Biogirl took me for a road trip down the Oregon coast for a weekend. In the car, she invented what might be the best mash up of all time: Demi Lovato's "Give Your Heart A Break" mixed with "Break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar."
4. My brother took me out to another fancy dinner and regaled me with stories about my nephew who recently, after scoring a goal during one of his soccer games, with no forethought whatsoever, busted out into the Gangnam style dance in joyous celebration which led to all his little friends joining right in. Trust me, I know you don't know my nephew but this is hysterically adorable.
5. My coworkers made a really big deal about my birthday this year. I know that work-related birthdays are usually cheesy and excruciating but this one felt really genuine. I felt appreciated.
6.  I sent out a blanket invite to a bunch of friends to meet up with me at my local pub for a drink on my actual birthday and it was just the lovliest night. The weather was gorgeous, we sat outside, I got to soak in the awesomeness that is my life, and my friend Kevin actually brought me some Vernor's so I could indulge my newfound love for the Detroit Cooler.
7. All of my favorite faraway people called me or texted me funny, thoughtful messages. My parents, Alli, her husband Chris who I also adore, Map, Palindrome, my brothers, my cousin R, just my small but steadfast group.
8. I have discovered that there is a thing called a pajancho. Yes, I am taking this fact as a personal birthday present to me. Not the item. The word. Don't you just want to say it every day of your life? Pajancho, pajancho, pajancho.

Consumables #69

Holy smokes, so many Consumables to talk about! Let's DO THIS.

Movies!
Jiro Dreams of Sushi
Documentary about an 85-year-old master sushi chef. Even if you are not into sushi specifically, this film essentially functions as a portrait of a great artist. If you are into sushi, it'll make you want to lick the screen.

Prometheus
The special effects are pretty dang cool in this one. The characters were a bit too much of a rehash for me- I mean I know it's Alien-related, but something new? Anything? The entire scene where poor-man's Sigourney Weaver takes an alien out of her belly was just dumb. Also, there's too much set up. The whole thing is setting up, which I guess will feel better when the sequel comes out but as a stand alone movie, not so much.

Deep Blue Sea
The other night, Nordic Boy and I were in a mood to snuggle up and see something romantical. The description of this movie made us think: doomed love in post World War II times, with pretty Rachel Weisz and pretty Tom Hiddleston. Sign us up! Only, oops, nope, do NOT sign us up. The following phrases were used while we were watching this movie. "Wow, that's messed up." Also, "dude, these people have got PROBLEMS." Then "someone PLEASE separate these suckers, for the love of god!" As the credits rolled, Nordic Boy just summed it up by saying: "well, shit." Precisely, my good fellow. Well, shit.

The Avengers
Can it be true that I haven't mentioned the Avengers until now? I saw it in the theater ages ago. This is everything you expect it to be: cheesy, fun, explosion-y, bubbly goodness. Some random thoughts: will we ever see Robert Downey Jr in a non-sardonic role ever again? Because he can do that too, remember? And why wasn't Gwyneth Paltrow allowed to wear shoes in this movie? I want Pepper Potts to be in a suit and acting smartly buttoned up, not a Daisy Duke wearing hippy dip. Lastly, I think it's probably an uncool choice but the Hulk is sort of my favorite.

Margin Call
I think that the thing I enjoyed most about this movie was the convergence of pop culture that happens in it. Dan Humphrey plus neo-Spock plus the Mentalist guy plus leathery old Jeremy Irons plus Demi Moore plus Aasif Mandvi and of course, Stanely Tucci. I say of course because isn't the Tooch in everything? Also, this movie made me think about suspenders. In order to wear suspenders, you have to either be a Wall Street business dude or a lumberjack. There isn't a lot of middle ground on suspenders.

Winter's Bone
If this movie was in a heartbreaking contest with Wendy and Lucy, which would win? Probably this one, but it would be close. All I really need to say is that I love John Hawkes, ever since he played Sol Star in Deadwood, so that was good enough for me.

TeeVee!
Smash
I am just now catching up with this, and is it weird that the ingenue person that we're supposed to root for (Katherine McPhee) is the one I do not like? I wish that the show had a bit more of a wink to it. I think it suffers because it takes itself too seriously. Come on! You are singing show tunes and having soapy plot twists and you have Anjelica Houston making out with that One Life To Live Irish guy! Own your ridiculousness!

Revolution
These are the most clean, stylish, shiny-haired, lip-glossed apocalypse survivors I have ever seen. And doesn't the guy that plays Miles have a distinctly Herb-from-WKRP vibe going on?

Oh my god, I'm so tired.

Books!
Blindness, by Jose Saramago
Trippy story about a plague that sweeps through an unnamed city that causes some people to lose their sight. The fear of the plague causes the government to quarantine these people in an abandoned asylum, and the book describes the social breakdown that occurs within as well as outside of its walls. The characters in the story all remain nameless throughout, and the baseness and despair that occur are awful. The poetic language is the draw here, but there are seriously no rainbows anywhere to be found.

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great Migration, by Isabel Wilkerson
A big mammer jammer of a nonfiction book that tells the story of the migrations that occurred in droves (1920s through 1960s or so) of African American people who fled the Jim Crow south. I loved how it had an engaging, readable narrative that focused on representative individuals, but it doesn't rely too heavily on anecdotes.

The Sparrow, by Mary Dora Russell
A Jesuit priest leads a team on a space mission to discover an alien civilization on another planet. Think Contact mixed with The Mission and you've got it.

Habibi, by Craig Thompson
There are some gorgeous drawings in this graphic novel, but the stuff that didn't work for me outweighed that. There was some serious race, gender, and sexuality trouble of the kind that was so glaring that I couldn't see past it. And the gratuitous naked ladies with the idealized bodies in every single scene, alRIGHT already. I will forever think that this book should have been called Haboobie.

Castle Waiting series, by Linda Medley
Graphic novel re-tellings of fairy tales that are fun and soothing. I think this is a great series for kids in upper elementary because it has a tongue-in-cheek sort of humor that they will get an especial kick out of.

Quiet: The Power of Introverts, by Susan Cain
These kind of anecdotal sciencey books are always a bit of a frustration for me. On the one hand, it's interesting, but on the other hand, I just end up having so many questions about the meanings of the various studies and conclusions that are discussed that it ends up being not so convincing to me. Also, the author's definition of introversion seemed hazy at best. I understand that this term is not one that has definitive boundaries, but in this case there were times when things got so broad as to seem kind of meaningless.

Just My Type: A Book About Fonts, by Simon Garfield
A fun, informative book that talks about font history and theory in an entertaining way. It was fontastic! (Come on, I had to).

I AM SPENT.

Post bday un-blues

I walked in to my office to find this, because my coworkers are awesome.

Older

 

Still feeling like a baby.

Birthday

My birthday is this weekend, and I gotta say, I am feeling super good about the birthday this year. Like, not just an excited birthday feeling because I have a lot of things planned (which I am because I do), but a bigger, better birthday feeling. I know that birthdays are sort of meaningless, really- I mean we are aging all the time and so marking a particular day and feeling like we are all of a sudden older on that day is sort of weird when you think about it. But birthdays are a time to look around at one's life, and take stock, and think about how things are going. And for me, this week, I have been feeling good, just deep down in my soul. 2011 was, in a way, about letting go of 2 people that I was trying to keep in my life who- when I really took a look at the truth of it-didn't really want to be there. So I let them go, and it was really, really sad, and I was sort of preoccupied a lot of the time with the fact that those people were missing. 2 core people who had kind of always been there for me for years and years and years, were just gone. Even though I didn't wallow, I did sort of feel like it was in the back of my mind a lot of the time. It was like I was walking around with these ghosts of people who I loved so much that just didn't love me back. It was hard to eat that, but eat it I did. I kind of didn't have a choice, I guess. I have to say that as hard as it was, I took it like a champ, which is something.

This past year though, I feel like that phase is finally passing, and just in the past month or so it really feels different. I just feel... better. More than better. I feel really good. I think the ghosts are- if not gone- then at least they don't live with me all the time now.

Last night, Nordic Boy was doing the dishes, and I was reading a book, and the new Tegan and Sara song came on, and Nordic Boy came out of the kitchen swinging a dish towel around in that silly way of his, and pulled me out of my chair, hit "repeat" and we danced. We laughed, and jumped, and Saturday-Night-Fevered, and dipped, and were breathless, and just got our boogie on in our living room, and I thought to myself, yay for me. I am still loved, and I'm not even talking about that gorgeous Nordic Boy of mine. I'm talking about me. I heard my own laugh and I felt my body moving around and I felt the parts of my soul that are still open to things, to people, to fun, to life, and I thought: ah, yes, now I remember.  I am kind of awesome. I really love being me. Look at that girl, I thought to myself. She pretty much rocks it. I love her.

Go dance around and think about how awesome you are. It's really so necessary, you guys.

hhhhhwhere have I been?

Is this thing still on? Anyone there?

(crickets, crickets)

So I may be just talking to myself at this point, but that's ok. Hi, me! How have you been? Well, me, I feel that I have to quote my close personal friend Inigo Montoya and say the following "Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up." Not that anything big has happened. Just livin' life, as T.I. would say.

Where else are you going to get Inigo Montoya and T.I. in the same breath, you guys? Did you miss me? Or does that make you not miss me? I could see it going either way.

So here's some stuff that I want to tell you, with no rhyme, reason, segues, or cohesion. In other words, I AM BACK.

I went to Michigan last month and Map told me a story about a coworker of hers who, when agitated, will over-aspirate her "wh" words. So like this: "hhhhhhhwhere are those budget numbers and hhhhhhhhhwhy haven't they been turned in yet? Hhhhhhhhwho is responsible?" I don't know why but this made Alli and me so completely delighted that we have been talking like this at every opportunity. I highly recommend it.

We went to the local state fair. Nordic Boy, who has spent part of his life working an actual family dairy farm when he was a youngster (and will not drink a glass of milk if you paid him ever since), revealed to me that he has never ever been to a fair before. To which I said hhhhhhwhat? How can that be? He's from Wisconsin, for pete's sake. Isn't it the law that everyone go to the fair in Wisconsin? It turns out that his family was more likely to have gone to carnies that would travel through his town, which actually rings true for me too. We didn't do the fair thing when I was a kid either, but we sure went to the local ethnic festivals or travelling carnies and did some fair-like things, like eating cotton candy and getting on rickety/dubious death-traps (aka rides). I have a lot of really fun carnie memories. But yet, whenever I think about the carnie concept all I can think of is that movie Two Moon Junction. Do you guys remember that? It was Sherilyn Fenn having sexy times with a burly carnie worker drifter guy who had veins popping out everywhere. It was all kinds of ICK. It is also one of Nordic Boy's mom's favorite movies. Which I sort of think is awesome while also is a thing I wish I didn't know. Like, simultaneously.

Thankfully, there were no burly drifters trying to sex us up when we went to the fair, at least that we could tell. We had an awesome time, although afterward, Delium was asking us about it and we realized that we had probably the most un-state-fair-est time of anyone who has been to a state fair. It went like this:

Delium: So did you go on any rides?
Me: No.
Delium: How about animals? Did you see those?
Me: Well, we actually skipped that part.
Delium: How about fair food? Slushies? Kettle corn?
Me: No, we skipped that part too.
Delium: You went to the STATE FAIR, right?

In our defense, we had no time for all those things, because we got sucked into three other, much more awesome things.

1. Giant vegetables. PUMPKINS AS BIG AS MY CAR, YOU GUYS.
2. Grange competition. There was this competition where these farms would put together a huge mosaic made from their produce. Which, yes.
3. Home arts. This was actually where we spent most of the day. Quilts! Crochet! Dollhouse construction! Pie contests! It was totally mesmerizing. There was even something called a "table setting competition" which, from what I could surmise, was just what it sounds like: pick a theme and set a table according to that theme. And then you get a RIBBON if your setting is superior! I have pretty much been demanding a mf ribbon every time I have set our dinner table every night since the fair. I will tell you if I ever get one.

In other news, it is coming up on my birthday and I have celebrated so far by sleeping wrong and pulling a muscle in my neck to the point where I basically couldn't move. I felt like I maybe would have benefited from one of those brace things like Joan Cusack wore in Sixteen Candles. Neck pull around birthday time makes me feel, let's see, how can I put it? Forever young, I think is how Rod Stewart would prefer I say it.

Also, in related old fartness, I have been out three times in the past month and have not been carded AT ALL. Now, I know I am way, way, way (waaaaaaaay) past being at an age where I should really be getting carded in bars and it was happening less and less over time, but I was still averaging a carding about a third of the time. Sure, it was probably sympathy carding that was happening but I WILL TAKE IT. But apparently not anymore.

So, to summarize: I find the home arts fascinating, I have a pulled neck muscle and I don't have to have ID when going to clubs that perhaps I am too old to be in in the first place. I am rolling up to this next birthday like a BAWSE.

Blah bloo blee blah

Some days are head desk days.

Midwest, Midbest

Warning, incoherent blogging ahead!

The blog silence has been because I've been searching for words, which, let's face it, I never really do before I puke-write on the blog.The trip through the midwest is over and I am completely confused about settling back in. Does anyone else get like this after a trip? So far it has been wall-to-wall bewilderment: my house, is that you? Oh, and walking around my neighborhood: this is my neighborhood, yes, I remember now. I have to go to a job and do job things, ok. But what am I supposed to be doing and thinking about? It feels mystifying, my life.

So to ease back into the blogging, I'll just jot some things down about the last week of the tripsie.

Nordic Boy spent a goodly amount of time fixing up busted stuff at my parents' house. He got them a new dishwasher and tv and installed them, fixed wiring, found every last loose closet doorknob or sticky screen door and fixed those up, just everything. This meant that we were at the local mom and pop hardware store every single solitary day, sometimes twice. The folks that work at the store quickly identified me as "cookie man's daughter." The hardware store also provides UPS service (seriously that place is like Oleson's Mercantile) and my dad is constantly showing up there with packages of cookies that my mom has made for sending off to all the grandkids, and he often has a cookie or two for the staff there as well. My dad, therefore, is known as "cookie man." Could you just die from the cuteness?

For more cuteness, see: my mom. Alli and Map dropped me off one night after we had all gone out, and my mom got her pajamafied self together to make them a snack, and then when they were ready to go, she says to me "they aren't staying over?" Like, an assumed slumber party, as it was when we were kids, when none of us ever slept at our own houses on weekends like, ever.

I am so glad I grew up in a household where cookies and slumber parties were a given, with pals to share them both and parents who encouraged the tomfoolery.

One night Alli, Map and I put out a call on the Facebooks for some childhood friends to come out with us. Did we have fun? Dude, we had all the fun. Most of the people that I saw that night, I met when I was in kindergarten, and we all are so, so different from each other now and I love it. I really adore those people. They are just so genuine, and so freaking hilarious. And it's so funny how we all think we have changed so much, and I guess we have, but really every last one of those people seemed, at their core, pretty much the same as they were when they were 5 or 15.

I also got to spend some time with my all-time favorite relative, my cousin R. We stayed up almost all night talking. What is better than staying up all night because you just can't shut up around someone? It's pretty awesome.

Also, there was a lot of time going back and forth to hospitals and such, which was the opposite of awesome.

Anyway, I feel sort of at a loss now that I'm back, just for words in general. So I guess that's all I will say about it, even though I feel like there's so much more to say. How about some photos from my week in Traverse City with my favorite ladies and we call it good?

This town

makes me feel acute Bruce Springsteenitis.

Mom

My mom is 77. Can I please rock 77 like my mom when I get there?

Top o' the mitten to ya

I'm typing this on my phone, is the first thing that I want to say up front so as you understand the pain-in-the-arse-ness I am feeling and also so that you excuse any auto-correct boolshizz that may happen along the way here.

I wrapped up my Madison trip, whipped through Chicago for less than 12 hours (most of which was spent in sleepy bye bye land) and then got in Alli's car and drove up to Traverse City at the top of the Michigan Mitten. (I wonder if people there say good morning by saying "top o' the mitten to ya!" because if they don't that's a damn shame). We checked in to what we have now dubbed Chateau Relaxeau, also known as Alli's sister Steph's house, for three days of silly girl times. During this time, we ate 4 kinds of cheesecake that was sent all the way from New York City ("New York City??? Get a rope!"), we confessed things to each other that made all of us cry (feelings! Whoa whoa whoa feelings! That's right I am Morris Albert-ing you), laughed until we wanted to pee ourselves, and saw some ridiculous beautiful scenery every last place we looked.

Oh, and I finally found a cocktail that I really and truly liked! And you know what it took? It took a soothsayer like Steph to look into my soul and understand the truth of the matter which is that I am, at heart, the least refined drinker you'll ever meet. So, with flattered thanks to all of you over the years who have looked at me and said "try a gin and tonic" or an Old Fashioned or a Lemon Drop or a Tom Collins or a Apple Martini or a Whiskey Sour or a Manhattan or a whatever, you have clearly misread the true essence of who I am and Steph knew better within 10 seconds. She looked me dead in my face, pointed at me and said two words: Detroit Cooler.

Vernor's ginger ale (it's got to be Vernor's), a shot of vanilla vodka, and a shot of root beer vodka. That's right I said ROOT BEER VODKA, bitchez! Class out the mutha effing ass.

I have to admit that most of my even wanting a favorite drink in the first place was so that I could sound cool ordering it. I mean, Joan Holloway ain't ordering no goddamn Detroit Cooler. So on the one hand I'm disappointed. On the other hand, for the first time in my life I could see myself getting seriously shit-faced. So...yay?

In other breakthroughs, I finally have some semblance of a Free Pass List. See how my lady pals keep things so elegant? You know those lists where you pick 5 celebrities that you're allowed to sleep with if given the (obviously highly likely) opportunity? Alli has always had a list, for at least the past 15 years. Not only that, but her #1 spot has been held by John Cusack for all 15-plus years of it, unabated. She has even lobbied for him to be able to get two slots on her list, as if that makes any kind of sense. That's serious passion, people. John, you better watch yourself because if given the opportunity that girl is going to tear. you. up.

I have never had a list. One, because I am very indecisive about such things. I don't have a favorite color or a favorite food so how am I supposed to pick a favorite imaginary booty man? The other reason is that I am a bit predisposed to think that celebrities are fuckwits, and I don't want to fuck a fuckwit. Also, in my theatre and dance days I was peripherally around a good number of that lot and 90% of them were straight up dicks. So, I don't know about this whole list business. Still, on the 6 hour drive from Chicago to the Mitten Top, Alli counseled me through list-making. And after six hours- (SIX HOURS! Let us all take a moment to applaud Alli for her friendship duties in putting up with that car ride) I came up with three candidates. They are still candidates, mind you. My list is firmly incomplete, in metaphorical pencil, and nowhere near being in a state where I would laminate it. My candidates are: Jon Hamm, Daniel Craig, and Ewan McGregor. Even as I say this, I feel that I should be more excited about my list. I don't know. I'm sure I'll have an epiphany at some point. It's like the drink: I was rooting around for years when who knew that all I needed was for the Detroit Cooler to walk into my life. I need the Detroit Cooler of men, perhaps. Except, ew! That scares me, just as a, like, concept.

Anyway, the Mitten Top was grand. I'm in the hometown homestead now, with a week full of hospital and doctor time to occupy myself, but no computer except for this here phone so we'll see if further posting happens until I return to Seattle.

Until then, I leave you with a photo I took in a candy store the other day. Just cuz.

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 #68

Oh bloggie! I have plum forgotten about you. It's been a slow week in news about my life because my job is trying, willfully and spitefully I believe, to kill me, which means I have been heading to bed in the 8pm-9pm range each night of the week.

However, to counteract this, I did go to a dinner party at Biogirl's house where we sat around a table in the middle of her raised veggie garden beds and I got to know 5 more people than I knew before, and all 5 of them? Frigging delightful. Plus there were two pans of fresh cobbler and mango mojitos. It was one of those perfect summery evenings where the air smells sweet, everyone laughs a lot, and I remember that there are more awesome people out there that I have yet to meet.

That's all that is new. I am leaving town in the next day or two so mayhaps there will be more adventures ahead. Until then, let's talk about Consumables, shall we?

The Dark Knight Rises
I kind of think Batman is a bit of a snoozefest at times. I get impatient with all his gravelly angst. However, this time around I had a rip-roaring time of it. I think because really it wasn't 100% bat stuff.

The Bourne Legacy
The Bourne movies did something that I thought impossible, which is they started to turn my mind around about Matt Damon. I do not propose we get into why I didn't like his stuff before and I shall not get into why, of all things, Jason Bourne made me change my mind, because frankly my reasoning will not make me look good. (And no, it has nothing to do with levels of hotness or not hotness, because I stand firm on that point regarding him across the years, and that is, if you will allow me to pontificate: ew). Anyway, that has nothing to do with this new movie but I felt the need to unburden myself about Matt Damon. As for this movie, I had several thoughts. One: look at Rachel Weisz getting all actiony! Do you think that Rachel Weisz and Daniel Craig have ass-kicking competitions now that they are married? Like, instead of playing cribbage they get in a kick-boxing ring or something? Or at least Wii swordfighting? I want to believe this is true. Two: There is a motorcycle chase that I swear to Evil Kneivel goes on for 6,000 minutes. If you have to go to the bathroom during the movie, that's a good time to go.

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
An animated story about friendship, love, and a man who gives his life to books and the books that give back to him. I admit it, I cried, ok? I ADMIT IT.

Up Heartbreak Hill
This one got me too. Must have been a week for waterworks. This documentary follows the lives of teens from the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico who are on the high school's long distance running team.

Dumb and Dumber
I had never seen this before. I thought it would be funnier. Why I thought that is really the unanswerable question.

Groundhog Day
Oh Bill Murray, I love how you just play the same thing over and over and yet remain so enjoyable. "Ned? Ned Ryerson?" I love it.

Harper Lee: Hey Boo
Did you know that she was working as a waitress ("in a cocktail bar, that much is true") and she had these pals that were wealthy and they were all "we believe in your writing talent so here's a year's worth of your salary so you can quit your job now go forth and write your hiney off" (totally a direct quote). And she was all "okey dokey smokey" and she then pumped out To Kill a Mockingbird? I know there are many notable things about Harper Lee but I sort of couldn't get over that one.

Dance Academy
CANNOT STOP WATCHING

The Invention of Hugo Cabret, by Brian Selznick
Is it blasphemy to say I liked the movie more? The book is great too, but so much of it deals with films and filmmaking that I thought that was better told as a movie. The illustrations in the book are not told in comic-like panels or anything, but they do sort of function like a storyboard, which is pretty cool.

The Emerald Atlas, by John Stephens
You've got orphans, you've got time travel, you've got a beautiful but evil witch, you've got a secret world not easily accessed unless you know where the portal is. You know why so many stories have this stuff? Because it works.

Later gators!

Reminder

I keep forgetting my lunch at home. This morning, someone put a piece of homemade tomato mushroom focaccia (wrapped up, put partially inside my purse, wearing my sunglasses, with my work badge attached) by the door. Hint received.

Rethinking my outfit

Apparently when the sun comes out in Seattle for more than a couple of days, I start to come to work dressed like a meringue.

Cornhole Tourney 2012

In which Nordic Boy's team takes 2nd place, and my team loses in the Loser's Bracket. These are not surprising outcomes on both counts.

Brotherly love

Text conversation that totally happened while I was in Vancouver.

Him: (photo of a new built in closet)

Him: ??? It's our new closet! I just finished it!

Him: Are you there?

Him: You must be having too much fun without me. I love you anyway, even if you don't care about my beautemous closets.

Him: Love you babe. Talk soon.

(An hour later)
Him: I'm going to eat lunch at SKUBBERS.* You love it. You know you love it.

(A half hour later)
Him: I'm going over to Delium's. Love you and miss you.
(A few minutes later)
Him: I'll call you later my love.

Why am I telling you about this text string? Because Nordic Boy pushed the wrong button on his phone and totally sent all of those texts to my BROTHER.

I don't know if you think that's funny, but we busted a gut over it last night when he finally realized what he had done.

(*"Skubbers" is what we call Subway in our house for some reason. Or Skubbles, Skubway, Skubbies. I don't know why. I sort of think Subway is a little nasty, and Nordic Boy disagrees).

Happy Friday everyone!

Ding dong, who's there?

I have to start off by saying that the other night I had a dream about my friend The Soggy Librarian, and the dream was that we were hanging out, as we do, totally normal, except she was talking in a very exaggerated Bill Cosby voice the whole time. I mean, her voice was still her voice, but it was like she was having an involuntary need to talk Cosby talk. It was all "It's such a nice day-eeee, and I'm so glad we're hanging owwwwt, and pudding pops and RUDY! And picture pages!" (chicken dance arms).

I know it's boring to tell other people your dreams, but I can't keep that one to myself.

So I just got back from Vancouver and it was so lovely. My friend and I just decided to up and go, just because it's good, if you can, to do something fun just for no other reason than because it's fun. Just to be kind to oneself.

Oh, and then we saw a bunch of wrinkley naked guys on accident so hey! Kindness is not always rewarded.

How did a sweet weekend trip take a turn into accidental nakedtown? I'll tell you.

We were in the University of BC area to take a look around there, and as we were walking around, we noticed from our map that we were pretty close to the beach. We thought, yes please, let's find a trail that gets us to some sandy shores, stat. We walked around and found a trailhead that seemed pointed in the right direction. The sign at the top of the trailhead included this: "Clothing optional beach ahead." This is not something I see every day, but I wasn't too worried about it because I was thinking we would hike down to the beach, and maybe there would be a few ladies sunbathing with their tops off or perhaps some skinny dipping in the water. I am not a person who does these things, but I am not opposed to others doing them and I am not going to care about seeing boobs and butts and other junk out. I have seen way too many episodes of Game of Boobs/Thrones to be phased by that.

So we started down the trail, which was very foresty, and steep. There was also a stream that ran alongside the trail, which was quite pleasant and picturesque. We walked down and down, the only thought preoccupying my mind was what a pain in the arse it was going to be coming back up that mammer jammer. Then, I looked up and saw, well...how can I describe it?

There was a man, probably 60 years old or so, about 20 yards ahead down the trail. He had taken his t-shirt partially off so that the arms were empty and the only thing that was attaching him to his shirt was that his head was still coming through the neckhole. So it was like his t-shirt was almost a cape. Oh, and p.s., the rest of him was bare ass nude. And also, he wasn't on the trail anymore. Rather, he was in the stream next to the trail, jumping around the water like a fricking water nymph. I was not close enough to hear him, but if I had been I would not have been surprised to hear "wheeeee!" or the like. He was behaving in a very spritely manner.

Am I wrong to have been surprised by this? What is the difference between this and skinny dipping in the ocean? Or sunbathing? Whether justified or not, this stopped my friend and me in our tracks.

"Oh!" we both said, watching the cavorting pixie man. He did not see us.

Here's the thing. The beach was labelled as potential nekkid-town, true. But in my mind, we were not yet on the beach. We were still in regular non-naked territory, as it was back at the parking lot, and the rest of the park behind us. We were still on a forest trail. Not the beach. So seeing this person, doing this frolic in the stream next to the trail, felt weird. Apparently my friend felt the same way. We stood there, and debated whether we should go forward, which would mean passing this man. He probably wouldn't have cared, but somehow we did.

We turned around.

Now, we had to hike back up to the top of the trail, and that sucker was steep. SO STEEP. And it was hot, and we were tired, and once we got going, we were winded, and ok fine, we also had a case of the giggles about the man we had just seen. All of this made the walk back up extra hard. But we did it, and we made it to about 10 yards from the top, when:

Birthday suit #2!

At the very top of the trail was another man, also in his 60s, wearing hiking boots and not a stitch more. He had not noticed us yet, and he was marching down the trail with a stride that was parade-worthy. Arms were swinging, steps were wide, and oh lordy, dingdong was flopping in a most noticeable way.

Which way to go? Nothing to do but continue. He did eventually see us, and he sort of hesitated too. The trail was narrow, and so when we passed each other, we were shoulder to shoulder. Have you ever been inches away from a stranger who was showing full peen? I will tell you this: it is not comfortable.

This brings me back to where the appropriate buck naked boundary was. Because he was at the top of the trail when we spotted him, and he was total junk out at that point. Which means, he must have gotten naked before starting the trail. Like, at the parking area, maybe? And the parking area is just next to a road. So, he must have unfettered himself up there, to be full monty at the top of the trail.

I don't know. I guess it doesn't make much of a difference. It was just surprising, that's all.

Other stuff happened in Vancouver too, but somehow double stranger peter seemed like the best story to tell.

Lunch looky loo

My lunch view = cure for the grumps.

Summer basking

Terraces are the best.

Consumables #66

The other day, Delium was over for dinner and I was pouring salad dressing and saying how I only wanted a teeny bit of it, but I was moving way too fast so I ended up with a tidal wave of vinaigrette on my greens. He said: "Oh no!"  But I sad, in a mournful Pointer Sisters way: "I need a man with a slow hand." We busted ourselves up laughing at that one. Why is that so funny? Other funny song renditions in my house: "Who ate the Smart Puffs?" to the tune of "Who Let the Dogs Out?" and Nordic Boy's answer to my question of whether or not he wanted me to cut off the green tops to his strawberries: "Let's leave 'em on," to the tune of "Let's Get It On."

Not really that funny, right? Yet, every time: STITCHES.

Consumables!

Lady Chatterley
This was recommended to me on Netflix Instant and I had heard nothing about this version. I watched it, and then afterward I looked up more information about it and was shocked. I could have sworn to you by the look of that movie that it was made in 1975 or something, but no! 2006, people! It was so 70s. The film quality was all gritty, the sex was all unsexy. It wasn't bad or anything, but it did seem like it was from another era.

Lincoln Lawyer
Since I read the book last week and liked it, I thought I would see how the movie measured up. Yeah, it didn't. Matthew what's his bucket- why can't I ever remember how to spell his effing name- Matthew McCanada-hey was sufficiently oily though. And wow, I keep bringing him up don't I? Didn't I just talk about him last week?

American Masters: Margaret Mitchell
That lady was a straight up racist, refusing to sit in a college class with an African American student and her black characters she wrote and all that mess. But then she was secretly paying anonymous scholarships for hundreds of black students at Morehouse to become doctors. Racism, why you gotta be so complicated?

We Were Here
Hey, do you want to bawl your freaking eyes out? Watch this documentary about the people who served as caregivers to AIDS patients in San Francisco in the early 80s. Anyone who says that family needs to be blood-related needs to watch this and tell me that that wasn't as family as it gets.

Place
Choreographed by Mats Eks, danced by Mikhail Baryshnikov and Ana Laguna. I watched it three times in a row.

  

The Imperfectionists, by Tom Rachman
I love interlocking stories, and these were each richly but simply done. It's so fun to see how all of the pieces fit together, and the newsroom/journalism stuff was great. The characters were all interesting, complicated sad sacks- the title of the book could not have been more accurate. I am usually queen of the pro-sad-sack-characters, but I did wonder at a certain point: out of all these characters (and there are a lot of them), not one of them could be a bit less of an internal mess? I actually don't mind and rather like sad/pathetic characters, but I would have loved it more had the levels of sad/pathetic varied a bit more.

Have a happy day, my lovelies!

Consumables #65

Alright alright alright. I say this because Nordic Boy has been saying this phrase a lot lately in a Matthew McConaughey voice and it is the creepiest shit ever. Could you please tell him to stop it? And by him, I mean Matthew McConaughey. Let's just cut it off at the source.

With that, some Consumables.

Tiny Furniture
I am woefully behind in watching "Girls" because I am a cheapass who will not pay for HBO, so instead I got up to speed on what made Dunham Kind of a Big Deal in the first place. I was so fully expecting to hate it, but I didn't at all. I found it interesting and engaging and yes, annoying, but I thought that it was sort of the point to be annoying. I get what people say about her work not being a fair representative of a generation, and I think that's right. I am not of that generation anymore because I am a grannypants, and me and many of my friends did not act like that when we were 22. Many of my friends, I say. But I did have some friends that totally and completely acted like that. Like, compleeeeetly. She captured it, to a tee. Plus all the commentary on representation (both implied in her work as well as about her work) is interesting to me. So to sum up: expected to hate it and did not.

Breaking Pointe
How could I not watch this? Reality tv set in a ballet company? Why Eee Ess. Watch it I did, and all I can say is that I feel deep respect for the art these people create, and also deep embarrassment that they were acting like Lauren Conrad for the cameras when they weren't dancing.

Game of Thrones
Or Game of Boobs, as we call it in our house.

Moonrise Kingdom
I think Wes Anderson is good but I am not as in love with him as the average hipster, so I was surprised at how much I loved this. It was so pretty (expected), and it had a sweet and earnest story (not expected). And so summery. If you go see this, see it during summer.

Benny and Shrimp, by Katarina Mazetti
Translated from the original Swedish- apparently this was a huge-ungus hit over there. It's a modern romance with a classic premise: two people from different worlds are brought together by attraction, then love. Will their relationship survive in spite of their differences? Benny is the owner and sole worker on a small dairy farm, and Shrimp is an intellectual urban professional. The thing I liked best about this was that it described the differences in those two circumstances, sure, but it also showed the commonality in them, and that is lonliness.  There's rural lonliness, and there is urban lonliness, but in the end it's all the same sense of crushing isolation and yearning for connection. Ah, you Swedes, so lighthearted you are. Anyway, (don't worry, no spoilers), I didn't like the ending one little bit. Phooey on you, last part of the book.

The Lincoln Lawyer, by Michael Connelly
This was everything you want in a book like this, slam dunk. Flawed lawyer trying to do the right thing (well most of the time) in a messed up legal system, gritty crime scenarios, totally creepy evil villain, guilt, innocence, murder, drama.

Zom-B, by Darren Shan
I had the advanced copy of this from the publisher so it didn't have any illustrations in it yet, so I can't tell you about that part, but the story itself was good zombie fare. I liked the racism stuff in there a lot (now that's a weird sentence to say), and it had a good couple of unexpected twists toward the end. If you want to read about some good old fashioned brain eaters, this will quench the brain hunger.

Lastly, let's have a song, shall we? Here's what I've been listening to lately. Bulgarian hip hop dance. It's a good'n'. 

D E N A: Cash, Diamond Rings, Swimming Pools

While I'm thinking about it, tell me something. What's your song of the summer this year? Comment! Tell me! Me and my ipod need you.

Summer wandering

Hey gang!

I had a professor in college who seemed like she was the feisty camp counselor in an 80s made-for-tv movie. She had red hair, curly like Mrs. Roper's, and she started every lecture by snapping her gum and saying "Hey gang!" in a way that was at once jolly and sardonic. Every once in a while I try to bust out a "hey gang!" in her manner, even though no one knows what I am up to so I just end up looking weird. I would love to be jolly and sardonic, but I will settle for weird. Apparently.

Let's catch up on the happenings around here. There is a regional "joke" in Seattle that says that summer really doesn't kick in until July 4th. This year that was quite literal. It rained up a storm (ha ha, now THAT'S a joke, fellas) (oh dear lord) right up until July 3 and then on the 4th and ever since it has been super gorgeous. Sorry to rub that in the faces of all y'all reading this in other parts of the country, where I know that the weather has been crap on toast. I would send you all a little package of this heavenly stuff here if I could.

My July 4th was as low key as could be. My brain has just been running amok lately and so I think I just needed to max and relax as much as possible. I took myself to a quiet lunch by myself, and then Biogirl and I hiked it over to a lakeside park and sat in the grass for the entire afternoon and then strolled over to get gelato and strolled some more. Nordic Boy and I spent the rest of the night in, no fireworks, no barbecuing, no nothing. America was pretty mad at us I am sure.

Once the weekend rolled around I found myself, still due to the previous month's madness, completely and totally without plans. I love a good activity-filled weekend, don't get me wrong, but a gorgeous, sunny, summertime weekend with absolutely nothing that has to be done? GOLDEN.

This meant that I spent the whole weekend just thinking, in the moment, "Self? What would you like to do next?" What resulted was a sort of unremarkable weekend, but it was the kind of weekend that I hope I will remember for a very long time.

About 10 years ago, when Nordic Boy and I lived next door to our friends Neighbor B and Neighbor J, there was this one summer evening where we were grumpy and tired and hot, and the Neighbors invited us over for watermelon. And we sat in their living room, which had a view of Lake Washington, and ate this watermelon, and it seemed the sweetest, tastiest shit ever, and we were laughing and talking and looking out the window to the lake in the distance. There was nothing about that day that was memorable, yet I have never forgotten it. I felt content, and happy, and just inside a cocoon of friendship and love, if you want to get right down into hokey-town. Just so ordinary, but so beautiful. I love those days the best. The ordinary and beautiful ones.

I got to have two of those this weekend, and here's some of what went down.

Nordic Boy and I wandered to a little Italian restaurant where I had some sparkly white wine that made me hiccup all the way home.

I met up with Biogirl and one of her high school besties and his wife who were visiting from California, and we wandered around Pike Place Market, eating ice cream and listening to the seagulls over Elliott Bay.

I saw Moonrise Kingdom, which seemed so appropriate for summer. If you want to see it, see it in summertime.

I had brunch with Biogirl at our favorite haunt.

Nordic Boy and I drove to Snohomish, which is known for its antique stores, and wandered around a bunch of them aimlessly, digging up World War II aviator goggles and 1970s McDonald's collectible juice glasses and cut glass grandma-style bowls.

On the way back from Snohomish, instead of hopping onto the freeway, we got onto some curvy backroads that cut through farmland and looked at blue sky, and wide green fields, and white-topped mountains on the horizon.

I sat on my front stoop and talked to my mom and dad on the phone, and we laughed a lot, and I missed them, so very very hard.

I opened up all of the windows in the house, put my feet onto Nordic Boy's lap, and read a book from beginning to end all in one sitting.

I wore summer dresses all day every day (which are hard to take self-portraits of, by the way).

Thanks, July. I needed that.