Saturday, June 28
Pixar Cameos
I heard an intriguing article on the radio the other day about Pixar's delight in cameo-ing their characters in each other's films. Here is a site that details many of them really well. If you have little ones, you might enjoy watching DVDs with them and pause the film to "find Nemo."
I also heard, but have not found, a video that "outs" Wall.e in each and every Pixar film made to date. Seems he was the first character they developed, but he did not get his own film until now. Still looking; will post it when I find it.
I also heard, but have not found, a video that "outs" Wall.e in each and every Pixar film made to date. Seems he was the first character they developed, but he did not get his own film until now. Still looking; will post it when I find it.
Tuesday, June 24
Further Observations
Hate to go on about going to court. I think many of my cohorts yesterday go frequently. For me it was quite an adventure. I had many thoughts come to mind. It's not often that I sit still for almost 4 hours without pen in hand, a book to read, or a computer. So I thought.
OBSERVATIONS
o Cleavage. I was one of the 3% of women present with no cleavage prominently displayed. Does the judge go for cleavage? Do they think the judge goes for cleavage? What is the deal?
o Sagging. Ditto the cleavage thing, replace with boxers.
o KMart. Is KMart the only place where people shoplift, or is it the only place that catches shoplifters? The hapless KMart security man witnessed for many cases, but no other retailers were even there.
o Tattoos, piercings, and bleach. I had the idea these things were expensive. How can you have these investments displayed prominently all over your person and ask for free defense? Please note I don't mind these things, I love tatts and if my life were different, I might even have one or two of my own. I even watch "Miami Ink."
o Cigarettes. I don't smoke but I have noticed the price of cigarettes. Heck, I gave up my weekly latte, folks: $3.96 a week. How on earth can you afford $4+ a day for cigarettes? Although I am not personally prejudiced against piercings and tatts, I am a little prejudiced against cigarettes. There's a nasty rumor that they're bad for you. In fact, I lost both my parents to them.
o Showing up. OK. You made an unfortunate mistake. You are called to court. You have a choice. Come get it over with, or hide out. The first time you don't show up they issue a warrant for your arrest and a fine of $150. The second time it seems to jump to $500. The third time I believe it's $1,500. Surely hiding out has its stresses, too. Please just go the first time, as un-fun as it is, and get it over with. Then learn from your mistake and go forward.
As for me, I'm driving like the granny that I am. :)
OBSERVATIONS
o Cleavage. I was one of the 3% of women present with no cleavage prominently displayed. Does the judge go for cleavage? Do they think the judge goes for cleavage? What is the deal?
o Sagging. Ditto the cleavage thing, replace with boxers.
o KMart. Is KMart the only place where people shoplift, or is it the only place that catches shoplifters? The hapless KMart security man witnessed for many cases, but no other retailers were even there.
o Tattoos, piercings, and bleach. I had the idea these things were expensive. How can you have these investments displayed prominently all over your person and ask for free defense? Please note I don't mind these things, I love tatts and if my life were different, I might even have one or two of my own. I even watch "Miami Ink."
o Cigarettes. I don't smoke but I have noticed the price of cigarettes. Heck, I gave up my weekly latte, folks: $3.96 a week. How on earth can you afford $4+ a day for cigarettes? Although I am not personally prejudiced against piercings and tatts, I am a little prejudiced against cigarettes. There's a nasty rumor that they're bad for you. In fact, I lost both my parents to them.
o Showing up. OK. You made an unfortunate mistake. You are called to court. You have a choice. Come get it over with, or hide out. The first time you don't show up they issue a warrant for your arrest and a fine of $150. The second time it seems to jump to $500. The third time I believe it's $1,500. Surely hiding out has its stresses, too. Please just go the first time, as un-fun as it is, and get it over with. Then learn from your mistake and go forward.
As for me, I'm driving like the granny that I am. :)
Monday, June 23
Paying My Dues
It's a long story about going to pay court costs. I will try to abbreviate it, but it's just too good NOT to share.
"Honey, I am going to pay my court costs; I have to run by the bank first and get cash."
"Oh, they take checks."
"...You sure?"
"Definitely. They take checks."
Well, you can guess what happened. Parked 2 blocks from the courthouse and walked (in heels, my own fault) to the courthouse. Remembered to leave cell phone in car, not allowed as it has a camera. Also remembered to have DH take my Swiss Army knife off the keyring, also not allowed. I have donated a zillion of 'em to the airports and got tired of replacing them. Mine is only about 2" long but comes in handy so many, many times.
So I take off my charm bracelet and go through the scanner and ask directions for where to pay court costs. 'Way across huge building. Of course.
Very tired ladies peering through tempered-glass windows for payments. Prominent signs: NO CHECKS OR CREDIT CARDS.
Sigh.
Back outside, 2 blocks to car (ps, AC in car is non-functional. DH has ordered new compressor.) Drive to other side of tiny downtown to bank and get cash. Return to courthouse and cruise for parking. This time I am 2.5 blocks away. Walk in heels again, (I know, my fault) to courthouse, through security, over to cashiers.
"Where's your paper from court, Hon?"
I have no paper. The judge said, "Absolutely. Prayer for judgment granted," and they called the next case.
"Go over to that room, Hon. Ask if court is out yet. If it is, she can give you the paper. If it ain't, you have to go back into court and ask for your paper. I cain't take your money without the paper."
I go to said room. The lady advises me that court has not yet ended. She tells me to go in and ask for the paper; I may have to wait a while.
I whine.
I tell her I already sat in there for 4 hours this morning.
She looks at me and says, "I'll write your paper for you." Quickly she pulls out a form and fills it out.
"I hate to break any rules..." I halfheartedly say.
"Oh, no, it's fine." She hands me the paper.
I trot said paper back to the cashier.
"Did she just fill out this paper?" She asks incredulously.
"Yes."
"Is court out yet?"
"I don't know anything. I just know I need to pay this money and here is your paper."
"I can't take this paper. It might not be right. You have to go in to court and ask for your paper."
Sigh.
I walk back across the courthouse to the courtroom. The same judge, DA, and bailiffs are in there. I quietly tiptoe to the bailiff and mouth to him: "May I ask you a question?"
He nods.
I tell him I got a prayer for judgment and need the paper to pay my costs.
Meanwhile, the judge is quite distracted by my presence.
"Approach the bench, please ma'am."
I approach.
"You live on M______ Avenue."
Stunned, I just look at him and say, "Yes."
"I remember from your driving record. Why are you here?"
"Your Honor, you kindly granted me a Prayer for Judgment and I need to pay court costs..."
"Do you need more time to pay?"
"No, thank you sir, I need the paperwork."
Meanwhile, the bailiff has procured the paperwork and hands it to me.
The judge says, "There you go."
I take a moment and look at the judge directly. "Thank you for the prayer for judgment."
"You are most welcome. Your driving record is exemplary."
"Thank you."
I zoom out of the courtroom to pay the damned court costs. The cashier reluctantly completes her personal conversation with a coworker (the 3rd time I have imprudently interrupted her) and takes my $120.
"Keep the receipt. I don't trust computers."
All I can think of as I walk back to the car, 2.5 blocks, did I mention in heels? --My fault, I know. -- is, Exemplary.
He didn't even say "WAS exemplary." (Til I got the stupid ticket.)
It sort of made the crappy day better.
Yes.
Definitely.
Much better.
"Honey, I am going to pay my court costs; I have to run by the bank first and get cash."
"Oh, they take checks."
"...You sure?"
"Definitely. They take checks."
Well, you can guess what happened. Parked 2 blocks from the courthouse and walked (in heels, my own fault) to the courthouse. Remembered to leave cell phone in car, not allowed as it has a camera. Also remembered to have DH take my Swiss Army knife off the keyring, also not allowed. I have donated a zillion of 'em to the airports and got tired of replacing them. Mine is only about 2" long but comes in handy so many, many times.
So I take off my charm bracelet and go through the scanner and ask directions for where to pay court costs. 'Way across huge building. Of course.
Very tired ladies peering through tempered-glass windows for payments. Prominent signs: NO CHECKS OR CREDIT CARDS.
Sigh.
Back outside, 2 blocks to car (ps, AC in car is non-functional. DH has ordered new compressor.) Drive to other side of tiny downtown to bank and get cash. Return to courthouse and cruise for parking. This time I am 2.5 blocks away. Walk in heels again, (I know, my fault) to courthouse, through security, over to cashiers.
"Where's your paper from court, Hon?"
I have no paper. The judge said, "Absolutely. Prayer for judgment granted," and they called the next case.
"Go over to that room, Hon. Ask if court is out yet. If it is, she can give you the paper. If it ain't, you have to go back into court and ask for your paper. I cain't take your money without the paper."
I go to said room. The lady advises me that court has not yet ended. She tells me to go in and ask for the paper; I may have to wait a while.
I whine.
I tell her I already sat in there for 4 hours this morning.
She looks at me and says, "I'll write your paper for you." Quickly she pulls out a form and fills it out.
"I hate to break any rules..." I halfheartedly say.
"Oh, no, it's fine." She hands me the paper.
I trot said paper back to the cashier.
"Did she just fill out this paper?" She asks incredulously.
"Yes."
"Is court out yet?"
"I don't know anything. I just know I need to pay this money and here is your paper."
"I can't take this paper. It might not be right. You have to go in to court and ask for your paper."
Sigh.
I walk back across the courthouse to the courtroom. The same judge, DA, and bailiffs are in there. I quietly tiptoe to the bailiff and mouth to him: "May I ask you a question?"
He nods.
I tell him I got a prayer for judgment and need the paper to pay my costs.
Meanwhile, the judge is quite distracted by my presence.
"Approach the bench, please ma'am."
I approach.
"You live on M______ Avenue."
Stunned, I just look at him and say, "Yes."
"I remember from your driving record. Why are you here?"
"Your Honor, you kindly granted me a Prayer for Judgment and I need to pay court costs..."
"Do you need more time to pay?"
"No, thank you sir, I need the paperwork."
Meanwhile, the bailiff has procured the paperwork and hands it to me.
The judge says, "There you go."
I take a moment and look at the judge directly. "Thank you for the prayer for judgment."
"You are most welcome. Your driving record is exemplary."
"Thank you."
I zoom out of the courtroom to pay the damned court costs. The cashier reluctantly completes her personal conversation with a coworker (the 3rd time I have imprudently interrupted her) and takes my $120.
"Keep the receipt. I don't trust computers."
All I can think of as I walk back to the car, 2.5 blocks, did I mention in heels? --My fault, I know. -- is, Exemplary.
He didn't even say "WAS exemplary." (Til I got the stupid ticket.)
It sort of made the crappy day better.
Yes.
Definitely.
Much better.
Karma Restored
Court time was 9am. I sat through wife beaters, arsonists, shoplifters, bank robbers, identity thieves, credit card thieves, stalkers, drug-possessors, manufacturers and paraphernalia possessors. In addition to the 200 people squeezed in the courtroom, they brought in probably 18 shackled people from the county jail, and video-conferenced 7 or 8 people who were detained elsewhere. I learned that not showing up for court is a big deal. The no-shows were ordered for a warrant for arrest and fines ranging from $200 to $2,500.
I was probably the first non-felon seen -- at 12:30. The DA said she had a note that I planned to ask for prayer for judgment. I said yes. She asked if I had the state copy of my driving record. I gave it to her. She passed it to the judge. He reviewed it for several moments, looked up, and said,
"ABSOLUTELY. Prayer for judgment granted. Next case."
What does this mean? I pay $120 in court costs, no attorney fees, no fines, retain my clean driving record (with a note that they forgave one speeding ticket) and my insurance rates do NOT go up. It's the best option I had out there.
And,
I got my Karma back.
I was probably the first non-felon seen -- at 12:30. The DA said she had a note that I planned to ask for prayer for judgment. I said yes. She asked if I had the state copy of my driving record. I gave it to her. She passed it to the judge. He reviewed it for several moments, looked up, and said,
"ABSOLUTELY. Prayer for judgment granted. Next case."
What does this mean? I pay $120 in court costs, no attorney fees, no fines, retain my clean driving record (with a note that they forgave one speeding ticket) and my insurance rates do NOT go up. It's the best option I had out there.
And,
I got my Karma back.
Sunday, June 22
Sign of the Times
I did notice the caller-id was the local homeless shelter, but I did not imagine they needed us to go serve LUNCH. We have always helped with dinner.
Our family is on the "Emergency Call" list, meaning, when the people who volunteered to serve dinner do not show, the shelter calls us. Sometimes they call us a week in advance; the church or whoever had signed up could not get enough people to agree to help. On several occasions, they have called us at the moment and asked if we could come right over. Someone had signed up and just failed to show up.
Billy's voice runs a little on the high side, anyway, but under stress, it's downright shrill. When I see the RHM caller-id and the voice on the other end says, "Miz Blackwell? Miz Blackwell? Oh, God, we need help!" I reply with, "Hi Billy, how are you today?" He always seems surprised that I know who he is.
"Oh, Miz Blackwell, the church that was supposed to serve God's Table today did not show up and we're supposed to open the doors in a half hour. Can you--"
"We'll be right there."
I called the fam together and asked them to join me on a trip to the Shelter. DH had a meeting at noon; it was 11:30 at the time so he was unable to go with us. I called 3 friends, got VM on each call, and left messages. "If you can meet us up there, we'd love to see you!" And Little One and I jumped in the car and sped off. Correction. (My court date for aforementioned speeding ticket is tomorrow) I drove off carefully adhering to the posted speed limits.
When we got there we were advised we were serving sandwiches only. There were no chips to accompany them, and no time to go get some. Did not have time to do desserts, nor the manpower to wash dishes.
The sink was filled with hot water and frozen luncheon meat. Ketchup, mustard, and mayo were already out in the dining room on the tables.
We laid in making sandwiches. LO followed my lead and laid bread out 2x2, opposing pieces facing, peeling frosty luncheon meat and putting it on the bread. Stacked sandwiches high in large acrylic tubs for serving. We were told to put 2 pieces of meat on each sandwich.
I asked how many people typically come to God's Table. Billy replied that they usually have 75 to 80, but he believed when they saw we only had sandwiches, many would leave. He said we should plan for 50.
We loaded ice in 50 glasses and poured tea. Made sandwiches. At noon the doors opened and they started coming in.
At first, I did my normal routine. At times when I saw the food was moving smoothly and enough tea glasses were set out, I would take a tea pitcher and move through the dining room, refilling glasses. Although I had not thought it was a particularly hot day, it was different for someone who had not been in a cool home. These people were sweaty and thirsty. There was a strong smell of sweat throughout the dining room. When they saw me coming with the pitcher, they would gulp their tea down to get a refill.
The people kept streaming in. LO made sandwiches. She filled tea glasses. She spot-cleaned the prep table. She saw openings for work and jumped in and just did it. It was truly the first time I have seen such maturity in this 12 year old. No one said, "Could you please do this or that..." she just saw the need and stepped in.
Well, we ran out of sandwiches. We ran out of luncheon meat and started making PBJs. We ran out of bread and began slicing pumpernickel, sourdough, all the dinner breads. When we ran out of those breads, we started using hamburger buns.
The people did not seem to mind. Billy had done a good job of telling them that no one had shown up to prepare them a warm meal and the best we could do was throw some sandwiches together.
The last 45 minutes we had people standing in line for 2 dry sandwiches on a plate and a glass of tea. When I could, I would serve them a glass of tea, saying, "Would you like a drink while you wait?"
When the line was down to the last 7 or 8 people, the tea began running thin from the last urn. "Please, God, let me just have tea for these last few." I thought of the loaves and the fishes. I regretted having given refills earlier. Miraculously, it lasted -- just.
Each person thanked me for the tea. Most thanked us for the meal. No one complained that the early birds had gotten turkey or ham on real bread. They were all just good sports and thankful for a bite on a hot day.
When it was all over, LO once again rose to the challenge and cleaned up the kitchen like a pro. Billy came in with his final count.
We had fed 103 people.
We got in the car to return to our home, our nice, cool, secure home, and LO turned to me and said,
"That was fun."
Our family is on the "Emergency Call" list, meaning, when the people who volunteered to serve dinner do not show, the shelter calls us. Sometimes they call us a week in advance; the church or whoever had signed up could not get enough people to agree to help. On several occasions, they have called us at the moment and asked if we could come right over. Someone had signed up and just failed to show up.
Billy's voice runs a little on the high side, anyway, but under stress, it's downright shrill. When I see the RHM caller-id and the voice on the other end says, "Miz Blackwell? Miz Blackwell? Oh, God, we need help!" I reply with, "Hi Billy, how are you today?" He always seems surprised that I know who he is.
"Oh, Miz Blackwell, the church that was supposed to serve God's Table today did not show up and we're supposed to open the doors in a half hour. Can you--"
"We'll be right there."
I called the fam together and asked them to join me on a trip to the Shelter. DH had a meeting at noon; it was 11:30 at the time so he was unable to go with us. I called 3 friends, got VM on each call, and left messages. "If you can meet us up there, we'd love to see you!" And Little One and I jumped in the car and sped off. Correction. (My court date for aforementioned speeding ticket is tomorrow) I drove off carefully adhering to the posted speed limits.
When we got there we were advised we were serving sandwiches only. There were no chips to accompany them, and no time to go get some. Did not have time to do desserts, nor the manpower to wash dishes.
The sink was filled with hot water and frozen luncheon meat. Ketchup, mustard, and mayo were already out in the dining room on the tables.
We laid in making sandwiches. LO followed my lead and laid bread out 2x2, opposing pieces facing, peeling frosty luncheon meat and putting it on the bread. Stacked sandwiches high in large acrylic tubs for serving. We were told to put 2 pieces of meat on each sandwich.
I asked how many people typically come to God's Table. Billy replied that they usually have 75 to 80, but he believed when they saw we only had sandwiches, many would leave. He said we should plan for 50.
We loaded ice in 50 glasses and poured tea. Made sandwiches. At noon the doors opened and they started coming in.
At first, I did my normal routine. At times when I saw the food was moving smoothly and enough tea glasses were set out, I would take a tea pitcher and move through the dining room, refilling glasses. Although I had not thought it was a particularly hot day, it was different for someone who had not been in a cool home. These people were sweaty and thirsty. There was a strong smell of sweat throughout the dining room. When they saw me coming with the pitcher, they would gulp their tea down to get a refill.
The people kept streaming in. LO made sandwiches. She filled tea glasses. She spot-cleaned the prep table. She saw openings for work and jumped in and just did it. It was truly the first time I have seen such maturity in this 12 year old. No one said, "Could you please do this or that..." she just saw the need and stepped in.
Well, we ran out of sandwiches. We ran out of luncheon meat and started making PBJs. We ran out of bread and began slicing pumpernickel, sourdough, all the dinner breads. When we ran out of those breads, we started using hamburger buns.
The people did not seem to mind. Billy had done a good job of telling them that no one had shown up to prepare them a warm meal and the best we could do was throw some sandwiches together.
The last 45 minutes we had people standing in line for 2 dry sandwiches on a plate and a glass of tea. When I could, I would serve them a glass of tea, saying, "Would you like a drink while you wait?"
When the line was down to the last 7 or 8 people, the tea began running thin from the last urn. "Please, God, let me just have tea for these last few." I thought of the loaves and the fishes. I regretted having given refills earlier. Miraculously, it lasted -- just.
Each person thanked me for the tea. Most thanked us for the meal. No one complained that the early birds had gotten turkey or ham on real bread. They were all just good sports and thankful for a bite on a hot day.
When it was all over, LO once again rose to the challenge and cleaned up the kitchen like a pro. Billy came in with his final count.
We had fed 103 people.
We got in the car to return to our home, our nice, cool, secure home, and LO turned to me and said,
"That was fun."
Wednesday, June 18
Sunday, June 15
Grocery on the Bike
Well, it seemed to make perfect sense. We, (meaning, we ALL) need to save gas. I need more exercise. Our favorite market is only about 5 blocks away.
I had committed earlier this year NOT to drive to the neighborhood pool, which is about 5 blocks away. I've been riding my bike and it's worked out fine, except that LO is now way too cool to ride a bike, so she walks. In an effort to be "together" and not just leave her behind, I bicycle down the block, circle around, pass her and go back to the start of the block, then by the time I get to the corner, she has about reached it. This creates twice the exercise for me, which is not a bad thing.
As I type this, it occurs to me perhaps I should just say, "Bye," and leave her in my dust. Maybe the bike would appeal to her. But for now, "The helmet makes me look like I have a big head."
The pool thing has been so nice I began considering biking to the grocery. I didn't even have a luggage rack, though, so I began cruising eBay to see what I could see.
I finally settled on a bike rack that has two detachable grocery bags. It arrived while we were on vac and I was anxious to give it a try.
The theory is that the Europeans walk or drive to the marketplace every day and get the food for a day -- why not us? If I reach a point where I need a great quantity, or very large items, detergent for example, I can always drive. But for now I am going to try to get a day at a time on the bike.
DH installed the rack today despite its being Fathers' Day. I have learned to let him do what he wants to do, even if it is work, as he seems to truly enjoy being handy.
DH and LO were deeply into a movie when I finally left. Had my cell phone, grocery discount card, money, and my handy bags. I set off.
It's downhill all the way to the market, which of course means it's uphill all the way home, fully loaded. On the way TO the store, I proceed down our street, turn right, cross one street, go through a strip mall parking lot, (the strip mall is largely unoccupied) and through the YMCA parking lot. Then I am at the store.
Upon arriving, I locked my bike to the footrails around the grocery cart area, just inside the doors to the store. These footrails keep the carts from banging up the walls. I felt more comfortable having the bike inside, thinking someone would be less likely to steal it inside. An employee was straightening up and I asked her if she thought this would be okay, and she blessed it. So I put the bags and my helmet in the buggy and shopped.
This virgin run, as it were, was a true test, as we had just returned from vacation and needed milk.
So I hunted and gathered, loading my purchases in the bag as I selected them, to be sure I didn't buy more than I could carry home. My goal was to buy just enough for one bag to balance the milk in the other bag.
We needed fruit. Blueberries were 2 for the price of one, and I got other fruit. Got the milk, checked out.
On the way to the store, I drove over four speed bumps with no repercussions. Going home, I though nothing of that first speed bump in the parking lot of the YMCA. (Fortunately the Y was not yet open, Sunday hours.)
One of my grocery bags jumped off the luggage rack and spilled onto the pavement.
So I parked the bike and assessed the damage. Grapes were lying on the pavement but unbroken. Blueberries were running for freedom. My box of tofu was burst and water began to leak.
Having gotten the berries 2 for 1, I left them where they ran. Gathered up the grapes. Took my portobello out of his plastic bag and used it to wrap the tofu box. Loaded everything back up, re-hooked the bag, and (cautiously) proceeded. I navigated each speed bump either by going in the storm gutter or slowly creeping over the bump.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I chalked it up to a learning experience and all I lost was a (free) box of blueberries.
I'm undaunted and look forward to going again, this time to buy less and go a bit slower.
Saturday, June 14
HOME!
We are (finally) home after 6 days in the mountains. Ahh.
Came home a day early; eating breakfast this morning, we remarked on how dark the cabin was. Looked outside, dark out there, too! DH pulled up Weather Channel and saw a multi-colored band moving directly towards us.
"Anybody want to go home a day early?" I asked. We packed up in record time, loaded up the car and hauled outta there. Poor DH drove in drizzle, rain, sun, and gully-washing storms. His eyes actually looked like the cartoon husbands', with red lines and dark circles. We passed three severe accidents and prayed at each one!
The girls in the back seat were pretty much oblivious, happily settling in with cell phones, iPods, and that dinosaur, the CD walkman. They sang and sang. At one point, one of them was singing, "Sk8er Boy" by Avrile Lavigne and the other was singing, "(I Didn't Even Know his) Last Name," by Carrie Underwood. Had to smile.
We unloaded the car in record time, too. The cooler is unpacked, washing machine is running and the pets are ALL in someone's lap. It's good to be home.
Came home a day early; eating breakfast this morning, we remarked on how dark the cabin was. Looked outside, dark out there, too! DH pulled up Weather Channel and saw a multi-colored band moving directly towards us.
"Anybody want to go home a day early?" I asked. We packed up in record time, loaded up the car and hauled outta there. Poor DH drove in drizzle, rain, sun, and gully-washing storms. His eyes actually looked like the cartoon husbands', with red lines and dark circles. We passed three severe accidents and prayed at each one!
The girls in the back seat were pretty much oblivious, happily settling in with cell phones, iPods, and that dinosaur, the CD walkman. They sang and sang. At one point, one of them was singing, "Sk8er Boy" by Avrile Lavigne and the other was singing, "(I Didn't Even Know his) Last Name," by Carrie Underwood. Had to smile.
We unloaded the car in record time, too. The cooler is unpacked, washing machine is running and the pets are ALL in someone's lap. It's good to be home.
Saturday, June 7
Cool pic
I believe I mentioned earlier I have been checking out Danny Gregory's website. This morning I somehow got to his blog archive, where he has a delightful tale of deciding to conceive what is now his pre-teen, or teenage, son, not sure exactly how old.
The first attempt is set on the perfect date so that the due date will be the anniversary of their having met. Mood, music, and the act. When it doesn't create a baby first shot, he goes to B&N and reads up on the various reasons for infertility. His hypochondria kicks in and he obsesses about his ability to create healthy sperm.
In the course of his prose, which as I said is beautiful, he includes this sketch. I love this guy's sense of humor.
Friday, June 6
Verizon
Our family uses Verizon for our cell provider. I have to say I love 'em.
DH & I got new phones a couple of weeks ago under their "New Every 2" program. The idea is that a cell phone is obsolete in 2 years, so they give you a free one if you promise to stay with them for 2 more years. If you bag out, they charge you for it on that last bill, along with the "you're breaking your contract" penalty.
Knowing that this was coming up, I started studying phones a couple of months in advance. Carefully considered all the angles. I was tired of a flip phone. Sometimes I try to flip it open to answer it, and it slams shut -- hanging up on the bewildered caller.
Loving my iPod, I figured it wouldn't hurt to have music and phone all in one. So I selected the Chocolate.
DH picked the Env2. I don't know why. We don't text. It opens up to reveal a tiny little keyboard, and I was certain that this would make the phone fat and heavy. (it's not.)
I will say here that I hate all the colors phones are offered in. White is not an option on any of their phones. The Chocolate choices were dark red, metallic turquoise, and black. I chose the turquoise. Hate it.
Hating the color, the features are secondary. Color is almost everything to me. I heard once that it's the first thing a woman considers in a new car, and I am not at all surprised.
DH, meanwhile, is loving his phone. Plays with it for fun. Enjoys using it.
Finally I confessed I was jealous. He seems so happy with his phone and I, I, I...
"What?" he prodded.
I don't like mine, I blurted out.
"Send it back!" he bellowed. "You're within your 30 days!"
There's a 30 day thing?
Ran for the phone. Called. Pressed this for this and that for that. Got Jennifer in Customer Service. May I help you?
Well, Jennifer, I got a Chocolate a few weeks ago and I am just not feeling the love.
Not feeling the love for your Chocolate? Hm. Let's see. You got it on May 15, so you are within your 30 days. Let's trade it. What do you want?
An Env2 just like my husband.
Oh! Even trade! Put it in the box and use the prepaid label we sent and take it to FedEx. Call us in 2 days to see if we have it yet, then call us back to order your new phone. Meanwhile, I'll re-activate your old phone so you can use it.
That's IT?
Yes ma'am. Is there anything else I can do for you today?
I love Verizon.
DH & I got new phones a couple of weeks ago under their "New Every 2" program. The idea is that a cell phone is obsolete in 2 years, so they give you a free one if you promise to stay with them for 2 more years. If you bag out, they charge you for it on that last bill, along with the "you're breaking your contract" penalty.
Knowing that this was coming up, I started studying phones a couple of months in advance. Carefully considered all the angles. I was tired of a flip phone. Sometimes I try to flip it open to answer it, and it slams shut -- hanging up on the bewildered caller.
Loving my iPod, I figured it wouldn't hurt to have music and phone all in one. So I selected the Chocolate.
DH picked the Env2. I don't know why. We don't text. It opens up to reveal a tiny little keyboard, and I was certain that this would make the phone fat and heavy. (it's not.)
I will say here that I hate all the colors phones are offered in. White is not an option on any of their phones. The Chocolate choices were dark red, metallic turquoise, and black. I chose the turquoise. Hate it.
Hating the color, the features are secondary. Color is almost everything to me. I heard once that it's the first thing a woman considers in a new car, and I am not at all surprised.
DH, meanwhile, is loving his phone. Plays with it for fun. Enjoys using it.
Finally I confessed I was jealous. He seems so happy with his phone and I, I, I...
"What?" he prodded.
I don't like mine, I blurted out.
"Send it back!" he bellowed. "You're within your 30 days!"
There's a 30 day thing?
Ran for the phone. Called. Pressed this for this and that for that. Got Jennifer in Customer Service. May I help you?
Well, Jennifer, I got a Chocolate a few weeks ago and I am just not feeling the love.
Not feeling the love for your Chocolate? Hm. Let's see. You got it on May 15, so you are within your 30 days. Let's trade it. What do you want?
An Env2 just like my husband.
Oh! Even trade! Put it in the box and use the prepaid label we sent and take it to FedEx. Call us in 2 days to see if we have it yet, then call us back to order your new phone. Meanwhile, I'll re-activate your old phone so you can use it.
That's IT?
Yes ma'am. Is there anything else I can do for you today?
I love Verizon.
So Where Have I Been?
Lots of polite questions / complaints about my not having blogged in a while. So where have I been?
Re-discovering journaling.
I ran across a book a couple of weeks ago, by Danny Gregory, named "Creative License: How to be the Artist you Already Were, Anyway." I may not have the subtitle 100% accurately, but that's the gist. It's actually what it should be, if it's not.
Great little book, filled with drawing and encouragement and how-to's and why-should-you's and you-can-do-it's. This led me to the book's cousin, "How to Make a Journal of Your Life," by Daniel Price. I actually had higher hopes for this book than for the first, but it pales in comparison. Danny Gregory is just so doggone enthusiastic, so inspiring. He really is into this stuff. The nice point for me is that he never picked up a pencil until he was 38 or so. Wanting to enhance his creativity, he set out to teach himself to draw, and did it.
I figure 38 is no more a magic age than 52. So I have been working on it.
He has some instructional videos, complete with some really unfortunate hair, on his website, http://www.dannygregory.com/. I also happened across another cool site, http://www.1000journals.com/.
Blogger is so idiosyncratic. It just randomly rotated these pics.
Speaking of the Maggie bench, someone ripped my brass plaque off the granite bench. Some fan, I'm certain. If it were a common vandal, he would've tossed it into the underbrush. Tucker and I searched the underbrush. Not there. The only other conclusion is that someone with great taste has a Maggie shrine and needed the plaque to make it complete.The Parks Dept is ordering a replacement plaque and promised they will bolt this one on. Any other fans out there will have to get your own plaques made for your shrines.
Sunday, June 1
Sunday
My damned headache is mostly gone. As long as I don't spin my head around or rise or bend too quickly, everything seems fairly normal. My eye sockets are sore but my head is not. Thank you for all the well wishes.
I just spent the morning on my front porch, rocking. Overweight cat in lap, sprawled from my tummy to my knees. He is so tolerant of me. I picked him up and hugged him. Clearly he did not enjoy this, but he looked at me as if to say, "Okay, I let you do this because I love you." Then I turned him around and held him in the croook of my arm like a baby. I rubbed his tummy and kissed his nose. I love you but not that much, he said, and his eyes darted from side to side as he planned an escape. I realized his diilemma and released him before he excaped, because a rejection from your own cat is just too humiliating.
We had a yardsale yesterday and my gf who is also a writer shared our yard with us. She lives in a charming house at the end of the street and yard sale ppl tend to like the center of the neighborhood, not the ends. She has a charming picket fence, and yard sale ppl seem hesitant to open the gate. Most everything about her is charming, and I enjoy time with her.
She had two wicker chairs for sale and would not budge on the price. Two for $65. Yard sale ppl tried to bargain her down, only the yard sale ppl with taste, as these chairs are really quite charming, but she would not budge. These are good chairs, quite charming, and really worth $65. In the end no one bought them and she loaded them up in her car and went home. A moment later she returned. She idled her car in front of our house and called to me through her car window: You want these chairs? YES! I yelled and she just gave them to me. Last night I rearranged our porch so the wicker chairs are in protected areas, will not be rained on, and they look simply...charming.
She also gave me a paperback book written by a friend of hers. When she lived Chapel Hill she was in the same writers' group as this woman. The book is called, "A Broom of One's Own," and I finished reading it today, out on the porch with the chairs and the cat and very loud singing birds. The sun is shining and it is a perfect North Carolina spring morning.
The book is about being a writer, about the battle between needing income and needing to write and forsaking writing for financial survival and trying to do both and finally coming to resolution with the whole thing. It is interspersed with observations of the people for whom she cleans houses, because, yes, for most of the book she cleans people's homes to make ends meet.
Her writing has a wonderful cadence and speaks to my heart. It's a short book, only 169 pages, and I finished it this morning.
I must think of something I can do for my gf. I got two very charming chairs and a book that has really made me think.
I just spent the morning on my front porch, rocking. Overweight cat in lap, sprawled from my tummy to my knees. He is so tolerant of me. I picked him up and hugged him. Clearly he did not enjoy this, but he looked at me as if to say, "Okay, I let you do this because I love you." Then I turned him around and held him in the croook of my arm like a baby. I rubbed his tummy and kissed his nose. I love you but not that much, he said, and his eyes darted from side to side as he planned an escape. I realized his diilemma and released him before he excaped, because a rejection from your own cat is just too humiliating.
We had a yardsale yesterday and my gf who is also a writer shared our yard with us. She lives in a charming house at the end of the street and yard sale ppl tend to like the center of the neighborhood, not the ends. She has a charming picket fence, and yard sale ppl seem hesitant to open the gate. Most everything about her is charming, and I enjoy time with her.
She had two wicker chairs for sale and would not budge on the price. Two for $65. Yard sale ppl tried to bargain her down, only the yard sale ppl with taste, as these chairs are really quite charming, but she would not budge. These are good chairs, quite charming, and really worth $65. In the end no one bought them and she loaded them up in her car and went home. A moment later she returned. She idled her car in front of our house and called to me through her car window: You want these chairs? YES! I yelled and she just gave them to me. Last night I rearranged our porch so the wicker chairs are in protected areas, will not be rained on, and they look simply...charming.
She also gave me a paperback book written by a friend of hers. When she lived Chapel Hill she was in the same writers' group as this woman. The book is called, "A Broom of One's Own," and I finished reading it today, out on the porch with the chairs and the cat and very loud singing birds. The sun is shining and it is a perfect North Carolina spring morning.
The book is about being a writer, about the battle between needing income and needing to write and forsaking writing for financial survival and trying to do both and finally coming to resolution with the whole thing. It is interspersed with observations of the people for whom she cleans houses, because, yes, for most of the book she cleans people's homes to make ends meet.
Her writing has a wonderful cadence and speaks to my heart. It's a short book, only 169 pages, and I finished it this morning.
I must think of something I can do for my gf. I got two very charming chairs and a book that has really made me think.
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