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Sunday, June 20, 2004

Ooh! They're playing the Cure!!

The Internet has provided me with yet another reason to never get anything done. (I think, if I haven't lost count somewhere along the line, that this is reason number five hundred and thirty-four). This new reason is that Yahoo Launch thing where you make your own freaking radio station. HOW totally cool is that, and why have I never done it before? This is only the kind of thing I have fantasized about since I was, oh, ten. I have always been a fan of radio -- all that music just coming to your ears for free, and you never know what's coming next, but if you find a good station or are open-minded it's a very happy thing. Then when I was an early teen the idea of "cable radio" was invented, and oh, I wanted it. No ads, no static, and a bazillion different genres to choose from. I never did get it. Also, just recently, the new stereo we put in our car when its stock one died is satellite-radio ready, and I'm just biding my time waiting to be able to spend the money to get that. I don't listen to the radio much anymore, except for talk radio, because I can't seem to find a station that fits my kinks; they either play too much heavy stuff or too much foul stuff or too much crappy new "country" or what have you. But now... my own radio station. I am fourteen again, and my IM conversations are peppered with "ooh! they're playing xxxx!" just like the letters I used to write to my friends in black fine-tip marker on peach-colored paper, with big circles for dots on the i's, and fold into ornate triangles or rectangles with a "pull here" tab.

Oooh! Now it's the new Alanis song!

Friday, June 11, 2004

june weather, and sticky songs

Note: Due to Diaryland zaniness which has caused this post from yesterday to disappear into the great Internet void, I am reposting it. Now watch, all FIVE copies of this that I tried to post yesterday will magically appear.

It is crazy but nice. It is June. JUNE! High school graduation is tonight! But it is one of those days where it's warm, but it's too cold inside with the cooler on. I just went for a walk with my daughter and we didn't die of heat exhaustion. It's barely eighty degrees outside and I am loving every minute of it.

I am finding in reading other people's journals that the practice of deliberately humming or speaking a few bars of a particularly nauseatingly mind-sticky song, in order to cause one's friends to narrowly escape spontaneous combustion caused but the suppression of the HUMMING, is not limited to myself, my husband, and my high-school friends. I remember one song in particular, by Suzanne Vega, called, what, "Tom's Diner", or something? with this line that went "There's a woman On the outside Looking inside Does she see me? No she does not Really see me Cause she sees Her own reflection" -- and the tune was SO repetitive, it was insane. All I had to do to torture my then-boyfriend and his mullet-laden brother was to hum ONE SINGLE RIFF of that tune and they would be incapacitated for days.

You're welcome, by the way.

And so now it's your turn to get me back. What song do you use to torture your friends? Or to torture yourself? The comments section is open. Extra points if you can link to a sample. :)

Thursday, June 10, 2004

pearls slipping off a string

If and only if (I was going to abbreviate that the way we did in algebra class, as "iff", but I thought that would just look like a typo, and what if we were the only ones to do it that way and then I looked really REALLY stupid. So. If and ONLY if) you have a half-hour or so to waste right now (like I didn't, but oh well), go here and browse through RetroCrush's 50 Greatest Song Parts collection. What a cool idea. I have to say, though, that there's a part of Rossini's William Tell Overture (and if you want me to adore you for life, it's easy; just don't call this "the Lone Ranger theme". I know it's hard to resist. But please. It's not as bad as "Rhapsody in Blue" being known as "the United Airlines theme," because at least the Lone Ranger is kind of an icon in and of himself, but still) which would, in my opinion, blow ALL their song parts completely out of the water. (that sounds graphic and vaguely bloody.) Unfortunately without lyrics I can't just tell you which part. You'll just have to listen to the finale and form your own opinion. :)

I am having a series of nice days, which is such a pleasant change from the series of crappy days I seemed to have been stuck in for a while, a few weeks ago. I'm reminded of an L.M. Montgomery book with a line about "days following one another like pearls slipping off a string;" that's exactly what my week has been like. Just ordinary things, nothing worth journaling about, but a blessing all the same -- the kids are loving and cooperative; I'm happy even though I am thoroughly ticked off at my good old womanly parts; even money stresses etc. haven't dampened my serene outlook. I've been reading good books (speaking of L.M. Montgomery, I'm reading the EMilies for the first time in years and enjoying them more than I ever did before), getting some crocheting done, doing a little housework and laundry, eating sanely but not terribly restrictively... you know. Good times.

Now we'll see, since I've made a note of how calm everything is, if tomorrow everything hits the fan. Gee, what a fun experiment.

And for your further journal edification, here is a survey about online journaling. Or blogging. Or diary-ing. Or whatever the heck you want to call it. ahem. Anyway.


Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? Um, no. Chances are totally nil that anyone in my town who doesn't already know me, would have a clue about me from my blog.

Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered? No, I just pick pictures where I think I look OK.

Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you? Never happened.

Do you lie in your blog? No. But I consciously leave stuff out.

Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? I don�t think so.

Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop? No. I hate that manipulative stuff.

Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping? I am not in therapy.

Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones? I have deleted a few rude ones.

If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less? Less. Clumsiness and social awkwardness are endearing in print. In person, not so much.

Do you have a job? No.

If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it? I wouldn't begin to know what to write about that much. So no.

Which blogger do you want to meet in real life? hmm... sundry, Dusty (porktornado), mom-on-roof, rdhdprincess. Except that I would be so totally intimidated by them.

Does your family read your blog? My sister-in-law does. My mom's read one entry but I don't think she's read anything since. My husband reads it occasionally.

How old is your blog? Not quite a year.

Do you get more than 1000 pageviews per day? Do you care? Not even NEAR that. Does anyone, other than the celebrity bloggers? And no, I don't care. I write for myself mostly; while the possibility of someone else reading it is what makes me keep writing (as opposed to abandoning it like I always have my paper diaries), I really don't care how many people do. It's just the possibility of it.

Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar? Well, not about those things exactly, but I do have one that nobody who knows me knows about. Except now they know about it... but they still don't know where it is.

Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing? No.

Is blogging narcissistic? To a degree, yes.

Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time? Yes. Especially if the most recent entry is stupid.

Do you have enemies? Not that I know of.

Are you lonely? For adult female conversation, sometimes.

Why bother? It's an interesting way to keep track of what I do and share it with other people.

Sunday, June 06, 2004

a real weekend

Ahh, finally, a weekend that felt like a weekend. It is so nice (and rare) when our family is together for all of both days and we (especially T, because really, other than the fact that he's home and we don't have sit-down school, weekends are pretty much like any other day for the kids and me) can really feel recharged on Sunday night. We went fishing on Saturday morning (which means T and the kids fished, and I read a book; both kids caught the first fish of their lives almost as soon as they put their hooks in the water); we had LT's friend here pretty much all day Saturday; I fried the fish for dinner and they were actually edible. Today we went to a flea market, and then T's back went berserk so we turned around and came home before we got to church, and lazed around all day. GOOD TIMES, oh yeah.

I'm really not feeling terribly creative or funny at ALL tonight; I can't think of a single witty thing to say. (I can hear you asking, and that is different because....?). So here, in lieu of a genuine entry, is yet. another. survey. Because I am such a sucker for them. At least with this one I deleted the questions I've answered a gazillion times. :)

Can you roll your tongue? Yes.

Can you raise one eyebrow? Sort of.

Can you blow spit bubbles? Um, ew? I could in first grade; haven't tried since.

Can you cross your eyes? Yes. But I couldn't until after I got glasses in junior high and my left eye got stronger.

Do you make your bed daily? Most days. T and I have a joke/ritual where if he comes home and I've made the bed he has to kiss me my favorite way (which means with his hands on the sides of my head under my hair; I jokingly call it a "trash novel kiss" because as a preteen I read more than my share of Silhouette romances and the heroines were always being "held motionless with no pressure" by the heroes, for kisses in this style).

Which shoe goes on first? I never noticed until just now, but I do put on my right shoe first almost every time, now that I think of it.

Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone? I don't think I've thrown shoes but I've thrown other stuff. And not AT people. At walls generally.

On the average, how much money do you carry in your wallet? MAYBE some change. I am so awful about NEVER carrying cash unless I have a specific reason to.

What jewelry do you wear 24/7? My wedding ring.

Favorite outfit for everyday? My No-panty-lines underwear, Eddie Bauer TALL jeans, white satin bra, and either a white button-down blouse or a shaped t-shirt.

Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it? Twirl.

Have you ever eaten Spam? Plenty of times but not recently. My mom fries it for breakfast pretty regularly.

How many cereals in your cabinet? About 5.

Favorite fast food, other than The Big Two? Panda Express

Do you cook? All. The. Time.

How often do you brush your teeth? Usually twice a day.

Hair drying method? Towel and then air dry.

Have you ever colored/highlighted your hair? I used to do this a lot, from the time I was about 18 until I was 25. Then I started letting it grow out so I haven't colored it in years -- it's in sad enough shape as it is.

Do you swear? No.

Do you ever spit? Well, "ever" is a big word. If I have something foreign in my mouth, like say a bug, then yes. But not recreationally.

-- WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE --

Animal? Horses. I'm like a ten-year-old girl about horses. Well, not QUITE.

Shoe Brand? The ones that are on sale at Big 5. For dress shoes, Payless, baby.

Way to eat eggs? In an omelet.

Thing to do in the spring? sit outside in my porch swing and enjoy the weather

Thing to do in the summer? swim, and hang clothes on the line

Thing to do in the fall? wear red sweaters and eat apples

Thing to do in the winter? Sit inside by the fire and read.

Children's book? hmm... I like a lot of kid lit and even a good number of picture books. Probably, though, Curious George Flies a Kite is my favorite -- I think that's the one with the baby bunny and the little bird that says, "Bad monkey!" which always makes my husband and me smile.

Thing to order at Denny's? Garlic mushroom swiss burger. YUM.

* * * * * * * * *

Person you talk most on the phone with? T at work, closely followed by my dad, who calls several times most days.

Ever taken a cab? Yes, years ago.

Do you regularly check yourself out in store windows and mirrors? All the time. It's like a disease since I lost weight. "Is it still gone? really gone? It is!")

What color is your bedroom? It has dark-stained pine walls. We did paint our room a nice colonial blue, but we changed the bedrooms around to give our kids each their own room, and because of the way the house is laid out (we really don't want a window between our room and our son's, which is an enclosed porch), we gave that room to our daughter. *sob*

Do you use an alarm clock? T does. I do sometimes.

Window seat or aisle? Window, window, window.

What's your sleeping position? I turn over and over until I finally fall asleep. Usually when I fall asleep I'm either on my side or my stomach. One of the very hardest things about being pregnant (which otherwise I pretty much loved) was, toward the end, having to be in ONE position all the time in bed (left side, best for the circulation). ugh.

Even in hot weather do you use a blanket? A sheet and a light blanket. I feel like I'm just napping otherwise.

Do you snore? I think I do sometimes.

Do you sleepwalk? No.

Do you talk in your sleep? I used to, but I haven't heard T comment on it in a while so I don't know.

Do you sleep with the light on? No.

Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on? No. I did all the time when I was younger though -- I couldn't go to sleep in silence. When I got married I had to change my habits since we used the radio as the alarm (because T claims the SCREECH SCREECH SCREECH would give him a heart attack); I had to get used to having it wake me up instead of putting me to sleep.

OFF THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD... no peeking!

What's in your car's tape deck or CD player? I have a 12-cd changer; currently it has Bach, Vivaldi, Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" (great for listening to with the kids), a CD of "power classics", a collection of preludes and overtures, an "alternative" compilation, an instrumental compilation (heavy on Enya and Loreena McKennitt), a kids' music compilation, my Phantom of the Opera soundtrack, a Gershwin CD with "Rhapsody in Blue", "An American in Paris", and "Lullaby for Strings"... and I can't remember the rest.

What station is your radio tuned to? Probably Christian talk radio.

What's on your dresser? Clothes. I put them on the bed meaning to sort them and put them away (they're folded and neatly stacked) but if T goes to bed before I do, which he generally does, he just puts them on the dresser. Also, there are a few of my husband's Mopar magazines, and our alarm clock radio.

What's on your nightstand? A few books, a book of word puzzles, a lamp, and a picture of my kids. And dust.

What time is it (don't look!)? hmm... eleven?

OK, now you can look, what time is it really? 11:04!

What color are your mother's eyes? Almost exactly the same shade of brown as mine -- just a teeny bit less goldenish.

Is your dishwasher clean or dirty? ack! I do not remember! Wait, clean, cause it was running during dinner and I haven't emptied it yet.

What pictures are in your hallway, along the stairs, whatever? hmm. My senior picture (which taunts me, because every time I go past it it says to me, "ha! You thought you were ugly and fat when you were me! Loser! You didn't know how good you had it!"), my husband's Navy boot-camp graduation portrait (wherein he looks like a BABY, not only because he was only 18, but because it was the only time since he was capable of having any, except for an agonizing few weeks right after we got married when he shaved it all off as an experiment, when he did not have facial hair -- even now if he shaved it off, he'd look fourteen), a family portrait, a collage of pictures of each of the kids, a picture of C and LT together when C was a newborn, a framed set of C's handprints from when she got into my lipstick as a toddler and covered herself with it, and, on the other wall, T's destruction derby plaques.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, June 05, 2004

mid-day ramble

I am less enamored with my inline skates than I was this morning. Let's just say that while I know and am grateful that falling full length on my side, somehow managing to avoid landing on any part of my body wearing protective padding while hitting every OTHER part, and impacting the ground in a most spectacularly forceful way -- I am envisioning it in a Bill Nye video, repeated several times backed by frenetic music and then played in slow-mo -- anyway, as I was saying, I realize that this is much easier on my 29-year-old body than it would be in, say, forty years. As in, I'm still alive. But dang. It is also a LOT less fun than it was when I was ten, you know? OUCH.

With that out of the way, I'll move on. We had our first swim of the year today, in the neighbor kids' pool. I love that feeling of coming home from swimming and changing out of my suit, and my skin is still all cool, so the warm air in the room feels a little bit pleasant, and I almost want to put on something long-sleeved just because I could wear it for five minutes without passing out from the heat. Have I mentioned I really don't like summer? The only things I like about it are the ones that temporarily put summer ickiness on hold -- like swimming, or being at the beach where the temperature is ALWAYS in the sixties or seventies. For the rest -- blah. Except for clothesline-dried sheets. Those are bliss and summer's the only time I can have them. Still and all I'd trade if I could.

I'm going to have a sappy moment right now. You can leave if you want to. Today my daughter began to read for the first time. As if that weren't emotional enough for me as it is. But then right after she did that, her brother was watching a home video, and there was my one-year-old daughter, saying her first word (which was "hat"). Sniff.

*C is an unschooler's dream. For all you mainstream people who don't know what unschooling is ;-), it's basically extreme homeschooling, where not only does the child not go to school, but the family doesn't even "do school" at home. They just kind of absorb knowledge as they go and study what they're interested in. Now, we don't do this. I don't quite have the guts for it and I'm always a little afraid that my kids would grow up with gaps in their knowledge -- like say the times tables, because who ever wants to learn those? -- although I am closer to it than I ever thought I would be. For example, instead of starting Sit Down School with C at 3, like I did with her brother, I have never done any of that with her at all, and she's been able to just play and color and do little workbook pages she liked or whatever while her brother does school. And yet she is reading at exactly the same age he did.

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Friday, June 04, 2004

more unconnected bits

A few random bits...

My shoulder still aches from the fall I took on my skates yesterday. I am such a whiner -- today, telling my dad about it (Dad, bless him, suffers from a veritable laundry list of physical ailments, but pushes himself too hard and never complains), I felt like one of those REALLY ANNOYING size five women who whine about how fat they are. (Note: If you wear a size 5 and say, "I'm so fat," within my hearing, be prepared to be sat upon.) But the fact remains that I keep being reminded of the spectacularness of my crash every time I attempt to do something mundane with my left arm, like raise my hand to move my hair out of my face, or hang clothes on the line. Ouch.

LT is having his first sleepover tonight. One of his friends is going fishing with him (and his sister, father, and grandpa) tomorrow morning bright and early, so we invited him to spend the night tonight. It is really touching, how excited my little boy is. He's actually cleaning his room without being told. And making the bottom bunk of his bed. I know. If I'd known this was all it would take I'd have started inviting his friends over to spend the night years ago. Hey, I bet I can get the best and quickest school work out of him ever if I tell him that his friend can come up as soon as we're done with school this afternoon. I'm gonna go find out. ;-)

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Thursday, May 20, 2004

oh, the thinks I can think!

Thinks I thought last night and today:

• Whilst looking at real estate in other states and politically conservative weblogs: Why in the name of all that is holy do I still live in the state of Kalifornia? I mean, other than the fact that my family is here. And it's really quite a beautiful state with lots of variety. And the ocean and the mountains and stuff. And T has a good job. But other than that. WHY?
• In the parking lot at Costco: It is odd that Costco is the kind of place where you see people holding up lines of cars and making shoppers feel uncomfortable by waiting for someone to get to his/her car and put his/her groceries away so that they can take his/her parking space. This doesn't happen at "lower-class" places like Wal-Mart or Food 4 Less or even Target. Is it because people who are better off are more accustomed to getting what they want even if it inconveniences other people? I dunno. I can use the exercise anyway, so generally I just park far away so I don't have to deal with either waiting in the backed-up line of traffic, or with a covetous jerk in a shiny new car sitting there staring at me while I put Raisin Bran and individually-quick-frozen chicken breasts into my trunk. In fact, on the occasions when I have had to deal with this annoying behavior, if I'm in a particularly snotty mood, I've been known to sit in the car looking at pictures I've just had developed, or checking my grocery list one more time, just to show the jerk that I won't be bullied into hurrying for his sake. (but not if there's a line of innocent sufferers behind him.)
• Driving through the seedier section of Smallish Shopping City: If I owned a store called "Discount Meats and Poultry," and for some strange reason a chicken became spectacularly gory roadkill directly in front of my main entrance, I'd call the city to have it cleaned up right quick. Because that just looks bad, in a horrifically funny kind of way.

I am having a feeling-thin day, which is always nice. I have been really disciplined with my food all week, and I had a new low weigh-in this morning (after maintaining for, what, five months? it's good to see the scale moving again), so that's probably why. Rationally I know that one or two pounds really could not make a difference in my appearance. But the mood lift was nice, especially considering that a lot of other things about today were stressful. I have an unbelievable weekend coming up regarding food: I am hosting one dinner and two breakfasts and packing sack lunches for three total strangers. I have two potlucks to cook for (Sunday and Monday), and then on Tuesday we're having my mother's birthday party which I'm also hosting (and cooking for). It's nuts. And appalling, how much groceries for a series of events like that can cost. It's also the first time our guest apartment will be used, which means that tonight and tomorrow I have a lot of cleaning to do over there. Goody.

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Sunday, May 16, 2004

and now for a very special Saturday-night ramble

Before I proceed with the rest of the entry, there's a kind of a reverse meme I've been wanting to try. The idea is that if you're so inclined, you ask me any three questions you want (using the comments link), and as long as the honest answers won't cross some line in my own personal privacy policy, or make it easier for The Big Bad Internet Stalker to find me, I'll answer them in my diary. Try me. I think it sounds like fun. :)

Now, on with your regularly scheduled rambling entry...

Funny how little things can make a day so much nicer. I've been missing a pair of black slacks for a month. I thought I must have left them at my mom's, except they weren't there, so I began to suspect they'd been abducted by some Van Heusen-loving size 12 aliens, when I thought to check to see if they'd fallen into the brown paper bag in the laundry room which I'd thought held clothes I was gathering up to give away. Except I'd forgotten that I'd actually taken that bag to the thrift store, and that the bag that was actually there was -- ta-da! -- full of clothes we'd changed out of at my mom's when we went there one Sunday after church. And there at the bottom, safe and sound if a bit wrinkled, were my beloved slacks. These are definitely on my top 3 list for Favorite Item of Clothing -- my bottom looks nice in them, my waist looks slim in them, they are actually long enough (shout out to Mary, my fellow high-waters sufferer), and they are a nice true black and they hang just right and oh I love these pants. And I found them just in time for our chorus concert on Monday. yay!

I think the missing slacks and the upcoming chorus concert and the general upheaval going on in my life right now combined to give me a doozy of a dream last night. I had to go perform with the chorus in a concert in the city, only I didn't know where the place was and I found out about the concert just before it started. T and I got separated in the city, I got lost, I finally found the place just as everyone was going on stage and I still had to change... I had brought, instead of my black and whites, a bright BRIGHT yellow ugly satin dress, and no shoes, so I bummed a pair of flip-flops from somebody, and I was trying to find my place on the risers while everyone was staring at me, and all the people in the concert were people I'd gone to junior high with (all junior-high-aged except for me) and it goes on and on. Basically every out-of-control dream element you can come up with was in there, along with a heavy dose of my own personality flaws. I certainly didn't need any help analyzing that one.

Tomorrow's a bit of a crazy day -- we're having three other families over in the afternoon for a barbecue. It's because of this "get to know everyone" thing that our church is putting on -- we get into groups and take turns hosting the whole group for dinner. One of the families coming we already know pretty well, and one we know by sight, but the third is a family I don't think I've ever actually met. Let's see how many stupid things I can be kicking myself for saying by the end of the day, shall we? Well, let me rephrase that. It's not exactly stupid things I say, as in putting my foot in my mouth. Usually. Usually it's just that I talk SO much and don't self-edit enough. What I'm saying seems appropriate at the time, and isn't embarrassing per se, but afterward I cringe when I remember having let the topic stray so far, or having felt the need to explain myself just in case someone didn't pick up on my irony, or something. Basically, a conversation can be a minefield of goofy faux pas for me. Ah well, life is too short to worry about that stuff, right? I can say that now... let's all see how complacent I am about it tomorrow, though.

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Friday, May 14, 2004

more like "begrudging rancor"

I am feeling all witty and like writing a diaryland entry. The only problem is, the witty things I keep thinking all have to do with icky bodily-function things that I don't generally like to write about in here. I'll just say this, however. All of you women who have easy, la-dee-da-life-as-usual periods? Be on the alert today because I may well let all the air out of your tires just to make myself feel better.


I was planning a day of staying at home with my rancor today. (And my kids. But I am capable of acting in a non-rancorous manner toward them). But it is looking more and more like I am going to have to go to the city and buy groceries. There comes a point where "Hey, Mom, since you're going to the valley anyway, can I give you some money and you pick up some things for me?" turns into "Mom, I need you to be my personal shopper because in fact I never really grew up." And I think my absolutely-must-have-it-and-it-costs-astronomical-amounts-of-money-in-town list is passing that point. Even though gas is $2.50 a gallon here. Yes, you read that right, two stinking fifty a gallon. Let's hear all of you complain about your, what, $1.90? You poor poor people. aawwwwwwww. (to be fair, that's the foothills take-advantage-of-the-tourists rate. In the valley it's only $2.10 or so.) What is this, Europe?

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Wednesday, May 05, 2004

small-town drama

Here is small-town drama* for you: This morning I woke up kind of early, because my parents were bringing something by on my mom's way to work, and when I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of a ten-foot geyser of water spraying from the water main that runs down the other side of our street. And you know what? When I called the public utility people about it, all I had to say was, "that pipe up by the Greens'** is really acting up again." And boom, they showed up.

*actually, this isn't the most dramatic thing to ever happen here. About six months ago there was a truck delivering propane that almost rolled down an embankment, and would have crashed into some enormous propane tanks, and they had to evacuate half the town (fortunately for me and my eight-hours-of-sleep habit, it was the other half) just in case there was a huge explosion. And once, the high-school science teacher/cheerleading advisor left his wife and ran off with one of his students/cheerleaders as soon as she graduated. And then they came BACK to town, which in a place like this, takes a lot of guts. And then he shot at her -- which was in the paper, oh that weekly paper LOVES it when something sordid happens -- so now they're divorced. And people think small towns are boring.

**not my name, the name of the folks across the street, and heck, this IS the internet, it's not even THEIR real name

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