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Monday, September 06, 2004
just a few pictures from an evening walk
We went to my parents' tonight for dinner and went on the usual post-dessert walk. I love evening light for taking pictures.
(important note: she chose her own outfit)
Opie in the flesh
"If we were as tall as our shadows
How tall our shadows would be"
--"Emily", Emily Climbs
L.M. Montgomery
The kids had traced my shadow on the ground, and then my nephews had drawn my face and hair. Watch out that you don't turn to stone.
Soldiers on the march -- the biggest boy has his air rifle just in case any persnickety varmints present themselves for destruction; the littler ones have sticks to draw "traps" in the road for Grandpa.
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Friday, September 03, 2004
the fair
Before I get started on the stuff about the Fair, I wanted to show a picture of THE DRESS. The person wearing it really does have a face -- a quite pretty face, with a little 50's flip, and a cute glittery veil* -- but since I don't have her permission yet I'm not showing it to you all. Anyway. Did I mention, THE DRESS IS DONE?
*in my head this description is in the voice of the Knights who say Ni, describing the shrubbery :)
Without further ado:
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Now. It is odd about the fair. I remember being a little kid and the whole year revolved around two events: Christmas and the Fair. Back then it was all about the rides. My brother and I would go through forty tickets each a night on the Scrambler and the Hammer and the Holy Grail of rides, the zipper [heavenly chord]. We looked forward to the fair so much that we had a huge post-holiday syndrome afterward, thinking how long it would be till the next one. We spent every possible minute there. We couldn't understand my parents who actually for some reason wanted to leave before closing time, and we would whine and argue about it all the way home in the car.
Now, I am that parent. Except the kids don't whine, largely because it's never occurred to them that we could stay much past dark. It's so noisy, and so crowded, and there's so much foul language (I swear I heard a group of way-pre-teen boys -- probably between eight and ten -- spouting off the F word like they were aspiring gangsta rappers), and between the country music blaring out of the beer garden, and the metal blaring out of the teen rides, you can't hear yourself think, and drunk people collide with you, you could feed a small African nation for a week for the cost of dinner for a family of four, and I could go on. However, there are some high points to make it worth it for a few hours, and here they are:
This one really doesn't have anything to do with the fair. She's just so darn cute.
Just for a total change of pace, LT was shouting cowboyish things like "Yee-haw" and "Giddap!" while C was pulling the whole I'm-scared-Mommy-don't-take-your-hands-off-me routine.
However, the real thing (if you can call sitting on a bored pony who's harnessed to a metal thingamajig and riding around in a plodding circle "the real thing") didn't phase her a bit...
More yee-haws and giddaps, but quietly...
LT won Best of Show for Lego creations in his age group with this oliphaunt. He made it completely from scratch out of his own head -- well, his, Tolkein's, and Peter Jackson's. Needless to say we're totally proud of him and he's very pleased.
Here's a better picture. Check out the little eyes, and the guys riding it. :)
The petting zoo sheep knew exactly what was in the little plastic cup LT was carrying around and by golly he wanted his share of it.
I was heaving a sigh of relief at his bravery here. He had a great time and totally forgot to be nervous. We won't talk about the Super Slide, though. :-|
The big event for tomorrow is the destruction derby. I'm taking LT and one of his friends. I get almost as excited about the fair as I used to be as a child, when I remember that hallelujah, it marks the end of destruction derby season, and I get my husband back on evenings and weekends again. :) This year hasn't been so bad; he takes LT with him which is fun for both of them, and their work went relatively smoothly. Except that he ended up working on other people's derby cars for them, almost more than he did on his own team's. This is perhaps the only sport where competitors have been known to help each other to win. Even tonight he is off at someone else's house doing last-minute fixing on a car that he'll hope to have just beaten at this time tomorrow. What a guy. :)
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Tuesday, August 31, 2004
officially my ramblingest entry ever. or at least in the last few days. yes, I just made up the word "ramblingest" all by myself.
It is too darn hot. Omigosh. And what really bites is that the weather service keeps teasing us, saying that in two or three days we'll have a couple days of coolness. Except the expected relief stays two or three days away. It will be Christmas, I think, and it'll be a hundred degrees on my front porch, and the NWS will say that it should only be ninety-four in three days. (What the heck kind of state IS this where we're all grateful and hopeful about NINETY-FOUR DEGREES, by the way?)
Our county fair is this weekend. (that'll help all you stalkers who haven't quite got it yet.) I entered some sewn things and a crocheted doily. The kids entered some pictures, and LT also entered some very spectacular Lego creations. Plus there will be all the rides (LT, with his gargantuanism genes, is too big for kiddie rides and too scared for big-person rides, poor boy) and the food oh heavens the fry bread! the Chinese food! the miniscule $4 cups of soda with no lids or straws! (must remember to carry in bottles of water this year).
In the comments for my last entry, mom-on-roof said something that kind of scared me. New colors? Do I have... new colors? Does this diary look the same to you? If not, please tell me. I would hate it if mom-on-roof was being sarcastic about the fact that every computer but mine has suddenly started rendering this page in violent yellow, chartreuse, and puce*. Speaking of which. Years ago when we were engaged, T had a really badass computer -- a 386 with TWO MEG OF RAM, wow, TWO WHOLE MEGABYTES -- and it had a monochrome monitor, which yes, actually was manufactured on purpose. That still happened in the late 80's and early 90's. I know it's hard for most of you to believe but it is true. Anyway. He had this monochrome monitor, and he made a really nice soothing attractive monochrome color scheme for Windows 3.1 in it. When we got married and I moved in (in that order. People still did THAT in the early 90's too. I swear it's true), we combined computer systems to make, oh wow, a really REALLY badass 486 with FOUR MEG of RAM and my color monitor (cue heavenly Monty Python chords here). We used his hard drive and so when we started up the newly refurbished machine for the first time, up popped the most wretched color combination that you could ever possibly imagine. Even the clothes I wore in elementary school couldn't top the heinousness of that color scheme. It hurt our eyes. But we saved it, so that we could laugh at it.
*WHAT IS PUCE? When Sully looks at the paper in Monsters Inc. and says, "Oh, that's puce," why didn't they show us what color it was? Because some of us still don't know and we feel really stupid about that.
Update: I just googled it (Dear Google, I swear, I actually do sometimes sit around and ponder how I ever satisfied my raging curiosity on so many of life's little questions before you were invented. Love, your adoring fan. XXXOOO) and apparently puce is a kind of lavender sort of grayish color. No wonder the name is so alarmingly similar to "puke." Which word I accidentally used the other day in front of my kids, and now it is their very very favorite. Oh well, it could be worse.
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Monday, August 30, 2004
two things
THE DRESS is done. No offense at ALL to the person for whom I made it, but I am inclined to want to give it a vile nickname like Kristin does for the things she sews. It is made out of the most difficult fabric I've ever worked with in my life. Suicidal fabric, that's what it was. All manipulative, sitting there in the machine writing a suicide note about how I didn't take good enough care of it so it just can't go on. But now it's done, and it came out OK, and I am so ready to make something out of flannel. Flannel is the nice grandmother of fabrics: "Whatever you say is fine with me, dearie." But yay. It's done: dress, crinoline, ruffle, little bolero jacket... even a little purse. yay.
* * * * * * * * *
WHY CATS ARE GOOD TO HAVE AROUND
1. If you have too many dishes they'll gladly break some for you. It's no problem for them at all; one leap onto the counter, an easy grab at a mixing bowl holding a large stack of cereal bowls, and it's all taken care of.
2. If you have too much money, you can always spend it on cat litter, cat food, a schmanzy litter pan with a sifter, long-term feeders, new dishes, etc.
3.If you don't have enough laundry to do, they'll gladly pee in every. single. basket. of clean laundry you ever turn your back on, plus your kids' tub of dress-up clothes, so that you can rewash everything twice or three times (heaven forbid you should just fold it and put it away as soon as it's dry. Where's the fun in that?)
4. If you haven't explained sex to your five-year-old yet, they'll give you a great reason to do so. Actually, my kids still think that the reason the cats can't go outside is because they'll meet men cats, get married, and have babies (they probably even picture them wearing wedding dresses. Or considering Mommy's recent sewing project, silver lamé). And the reason they go around scraping their tummies on the ground with their butts up in the air for a few days twice a month is because they want to get married. Cripes, we have got to get those beasts spayed, before we catch them going through Bride's magazine.
5. Who wants a clean bathroom? Just put the litter pan and the food and water dishes in there and voilà! You'll never have to deal with that irritating no-litter-on-the-bathroom-floor feeling again.
I hate when my husband is right about stuff.
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Thursday, August 26, 2004
how NOT to type
I am attempting to re-teach myself to type. I did take a typing class for about a week in high school. However, since I'd already taught myself to type by that time, I quickly reached the point where the very sound of the teacher's monotone droning on ("A!" [Class hits the A key on every. single. typewriter: CL-CL-CLACK.] "S!" [CL-CLACK.] "D!" [CLACK.] "F!" [CL-CLACK.]) was enough to make me want to poke someone's eyes out. Even my own. So I'd sit there ignoring the teacher, typing letters to my friends on the scratch paper. It's hard to keep from getting caught when you're writing notes this way, and teachers have this weird thing about students, you know, paying attention in class instead of typing friendly correspondence. Go figure. I quickly realized that if I continued in that class, I'd end up either killing someone or spending the rest of my natural life in detention (or both). So I dropped it and took home economics instead. So to this day, I always level when I measure, but I type in a very unhealthy manner. Fast, yes. But my form lacks. It lacks... a lot. I only ever use my left pinky for Shift. I stretch my fingers all around the wrong way, mostly on my left hand. I knew this but didn't care until I started this ongoing data entry project, involving lots of tabbing and even more shifting, really repetitively. When the pain from the pinky and ring fingers on my left hand reached that elbow, I thought, hey, it's never too late to retrain oneself and undo habits that have been set in concrete by, oh, say, fifteen years of rigorous exercise, right? Hence this entry is being typed Correctly. Oops. I just used the wrong pinky for Shift again. It is making me crazy and I'm beginning to place bets against myself regarding how long it will be before I give up and lapse back into the old incorrect-but-thought-free Rachel's Patented Carpal Tunnel Syndrome Guaranteed Typing System. I'm thinking... about five more words. Yep.
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Monday, August 23, 2004
more snippets
- Tonight while I was washing dishes, I put my hair in a bun and stabbed a pencil through it, because I couldn't find one of my five bazillion scrunchies. I haven't done this since high school. It made me feel all young. There was a guy who used to sit behind me in chemistry class who would steal the pencil from my hair. ah, memories.
- We went to my dad's tonight for his birthday party. The highlight of the visit for the kids was The Walk. Why do people say there's nothing to do in the country? In one short excursion my kids walked barefoot on an unpaved road(carefully circumnavigating the cow pies), had their shadows traced on the road with sticks, and drew "traps" in the dust with their sticks to catch their grandpa, who had to break out of said traps by drawing lines across them with his stick. Fun stuff, I tell ya.
- In keeping with the rural theme, here are some of the items (probably about half the content) from last week's sheriff's report in our local paper.
- A call reporting a truck full of chickens with smoking brakes was received from the highway in [outlying area].
- A call reporting cows mooing strangely and sounding worried was received from [development].
- A call from Elizabeth Lane in [outlying area] reported a dangerous coyote growling under a trailer.
- A mountain lion and two cubs were spotted at the water's edge at Lake M______.
- A call reporting loud music was received from Ramsden Road.
- A barking dog complaint was received from the 5100 block of Hillside Drive.
- A report of trespassing by two kids swimming in a horse trough was received from Old Highway and Yaqui Gulch.
- A call reporting a rattlesnake in a dog house was received from the 4000 block of Old Highway.
- A request for an ambulance to respond to a scorpion bite was received from the 5200 block of Davis Road.
- A call describing a "lab wreaking havoc" was received from Granite Springs Road. (at first I thought this was referring to a meth lab, which are a common hazard in these here parts, but just now I realized it's referring to a dog. I think.)
- A report of unfed goats was received from the 5200 block of Colorado Road. (note: all the references to "blocks" are a joke. Because... there ARE no blocks.)
- A call reporting a rattlesnake in a living room was received from the 5100 block of Lakeview Road.
- A call reporting a loose bull was received from the 5000 block of Silva Road.
- I was getting into bed a half hour or so ago and something cut my foot. I reached down expecting to find a pencil, and instead found a long, sharp bamboo shish ke bob skewer. T had been using it to repair a camera. (SHUT UP.) He muttered an unintelligible apology in his sleep when I explained why I shrieked. Is he trying to kill me, do you think? Is there something I should know here?
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Saturday, August 21, 2004
a girl's first pair of high-heeled shoes
You know what I have never had, and what I just got a craving for? A pair of really high-heeled shoes. The highest I have ever owned are standard, what, 2 1/2" pumps. There are a lot of reasons I've never had anything higher than that. (ooh! goody! a list!)
- I don't like my feet and I suppose I never wanted to draw attention to them.
- The pumps I have had have hurt plenty enough at their modest height, thankyouverymuch.
- I am already dang well tall enough. I think my addiction to flats started in junior high when I already towered over all the boys by at least two inches. (this would still be... interesting ... since T is only two inches taller than me. In a four-inch heel I'd be taller than him. Interesting dynamic, maybe, in the right mood...?)
- I have never been the sexy-high-heels type. I'm more the Everymom type. T gets really excited when I put on slacks and a blouse. I am not sure he could handle something that was actually, you know, sexy, especially in public. It would be interesting to try, though. ;-)
However. For some unknown reason, today I decided that my next pair of dress shoes will be my first pair of high heels. Maybe... red ones. Wow. Am I fifteen?
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Friday, August 20, 2004
well, I got better...
First of all I need to point out that this is my fourth entry today. Don't miss the previous exciting episodes of Blissful Contentment. Yours FREE, no purchase necessary, for a limited time only (well, except for that "limited" part). Today, as my loyal reader might remember, started out at about a 9.8 on the suckiness scale; it has improved until I don't even want to maim anybody anymore. Wow. Who'd have thought. Also, if the title of this post makes you think of newts, you are my new hero.
Tonight I went to the valley to get a birthday present for my dad, and a few little miscellaneous things. Of course, this meant WAL-MART. Wal-Mart is the crown jewel of the miscellaneous. I got: cereal, a fishing pole, feminine hygiene supplies, teabags, cat food, and laundry stuff. And I didn't even scratch the surface. I have always thought it should be some kind of late-night college-kids' game, where you have to go to Wal-Mart and whoever spends a certain amount of money and comes out with the most diverse selection wins the prize. Another great game would be the Dollar Store Bizarreness Challenge -- my friend Jenn and I thought this up while we were in the 99c store over the weekend. It's simple, whoever buys the strangest thing in the dollar store wins. That late-at-night slap-happy feeling makes these games much more fun.
After I shopped, I went to Panda Express. Panda Express always sucks me in when I'm in the city alone and need to eat. I'll think I'm going somewhere else, but when I drive by it traps me in its patented Kung Pau Chicken tractor beam and before I even realize it I'm standing at the counter saying, "Two-entrées, packed to go [in case of leftovers], chow mein noodles, kung pao chicken, black pepper chicken, thank you." I have to get hot, spicy things there because when your mouth is on fire, you don't notice that you're drinking (blecch) Diet Pepsi. Until the fire subsides, and you're driving out of the parking lot with just a few wisps of dragonish smoke coming out of your nostrils, and you take a sip from your to-go cup and almost spew because finally you realize that you've been consuming carbonated paint thinner. Oh well. No place is perfect. Not even Panda Express.
On the way home, since I was alone in the car, I tested the limits of our stereo system once more, this time discovering that volume level 27 is absolutely perfect for the Winter section of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." The cellos go right through to your spine. You all should try it.
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Friday, July 09, 2004
random music-related bits
It has been very nearly a full week since my last update. I have not been flung off the face of the earth by some inexplicable localized gravitational lapse. Nor have I been kidnapped or had my fingers cut off or (gasp) given up my LTL. I have just been, well, busy. Weird. And today's post won't be anything to write home about either, but here it is for what it's worth.
Yesterday I was driving alone in my car, so I was of course blasting the stereo really loud because I'm all mature like that. So what if I was blasting classical music, OK? (in the loose sense. Most if it was actually twentieth-century or romantic and not classical, if you want to get specific) Anyway, for a reason I won't go into, I was fast-forwarding the CD through Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man." Surprisingly enough, the reason was not my vitreous hatred of Aaron Copland, which runs very deep thanks to his extremely annoying choral arrangements. "Fanfare" is a pretty cool-sounding composition, but it still doesn't get Copland off my bad side. AN-Y-WAY. I was cueing through the song and it sounded extremely cool. It sounded like 80's techno synthesizer music, as if "Axel F" had been written and performed by some European group with pointy hairstyles and lots of makeup. In other words, it rocked, in an I-shouldn't-be-admitting-I-like-this kind of way.
In other music news, I was just reading someone else's diary, and she said that her weekend was lame, and then she typed these words: "I blame it on the rain." So now guess what late 80's dreadlock-wearing lip-synchers are hip-hopping around in my head, and will be for a week? I'm sure Emily didn't do it on purpose. She could never be so cruel. Right?
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Saturday, June 26, 2004
a really, really nice Saturday
This is like the third or fourth weekend in a row that has just been fantastic. Today I made some playdough, mailed some packages (heads up, Susan and girls, including beautiful wee new Abigail, oh now I'm getting all clucky again, must move on), and went to the library, and then we went to a birthday party for one of my nieces (sort of), which culminated in the (large) group of us pretty much taking over the county pool. We had a great time. C (who is, for those of you who are new to blissful contentment -- hi! by the way -- 4 years old) wanted to jump off the diving board. Of course, since C's "swimming" consists of floating on her face and gently waving her arms, which propels her, um, not at all (as soon as she kicks, she sinks -- I really hope those swimming lessons she starts on Monday will do her some good), she couldn't do the diving board thing, but she DID dive(!) off the side of the pool and learn to do cannonballs -- with me there to catch her, of course. Even LT jumped off the side and showed off his new swimming-lesson skills. Then we went home and I crashed, because I am like a child that way. Put me in the sun and the water and as soon as I get out I want to go to sleep. C inherited this trait from me, apparently; when I woke up she was asleep on the couch in front of "Mary Poppins", looking like a baby angel with chlorinated hair. The boys were playing Legos, building a quite respectable model of Minas Tirith, which they've been plotting for weeks. I made tacos for supper and milkshakes for dessert; we watched "The Great Muppet Caper," during which T explained who was whom for me since I was more a Fraggle Rock type when I was little, and now everyone's ready for bed. Including me -- in a very happy way, it feels like it's been three days since I got up this morning. :)
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