A guy and his son go into a bar. The son is a miracle of nature and is just a head.
The man asks the bartender for two shots. The man takes one shot and gives the other one to his son.
The son swallows down the drink and out pops an arm.
The man thinks, "Hey this is good."
So he asks for two more shots.
He drinks one and gives the other to his son again, and out pops another arm.
The man the asks for a double and gives it to his son. The son throws it down and suddenly explodes.
The bartender looks over at the man and says, "Looks like you should have quit while he was ahead."
Tuesday, February 24
Friday, February 20
Ikea Orgasm, Part II
I heard that Ikea will deliver as much as you can purchase for $69 total if you live within 40 miles of the store. I googled the map. We're 32 miles away. I announced my intention to DH. He was shocked that I would consider delivery.
"I'll just put the roof rack on the car and you can get someone to tie your boxes on it."
I shuddered.
If they deliver it and drop it, they give me a new one. Remember, it's glass. If it flies off the roof as I zoom down the interstate, no one gives me a new one. I'm out the money AND the desk.
As The Big Day approached, I began to telephone gf's in search of a chum to accompany me. One evening, DH remarked, "Remember how much we enjoyed going to Ikea together in DC?"
Ah. "Do YOU want to go to the opening with me?"
He did. So I stopped trying to cajole my gf's into going on this crazy excursion with me. Good. He can handle the roof rack.
The idea began to seem even crazier when we read in the local paper (a fine publication, btw) that Ikea was going to allow people to camp on the doorstep two days ahead of the opening.
Really.
So the day approached. DH had the day off. We had to drop LO at the theater uptown that morning at 8am. She is in the kids' production of The Tempest and gets to miss school for a few days. I'm pretty sure that's why she goes out for plays. To miss school.
So we planned to drop her and get on the road at 8. The store would open at 9.
The night before, I commented, "Do you think we'll sit in the car for an hour?"
"Nah!" DH replied.
The day dawned cold, gray, and wet. Drizzling rain and cold winds. Our trip was pleasant enough and we exited the interstate at 9 straight up. Cold wet police directed us to turn away from the store to join the line of cars waiting for entry. "They're going to be out of meatballs," DH muttered.
I noticed my cell phone was almost dead. Dang. Why didn't I think to charge it last night? If we got separated, I couldn't call DH.
It took us an hour to reach the bridge across the interstate. As we neared the store, we saw police cars parked across the entry. The parking lot was full and they were turning cars away.
As we drove past the store, we saw pedestrians valiantly pushing babies in strollers in the cold and rain to the store. Ikea diehards. I identified. I rolled down the window. "WHERE'D YOU PARK?" I yelled. "Turn right up ahead! There's a strip mall down the road! Park there!"
We were off.
We found the strip mall, 2.5 short miles from Ikea. The rain cleared up. All we had to do was walk in the cold. Red clay mud medians were covered in straw. The mud tried to suck the shoes off my feet as we crossed. Another red clay hill, covered in straw, lay between us and the store. "Walk sideways so you won't fall into traffic," DH advised me. He held my hand to keep me steady. Aw. This is why I married this man. Remind me next time I grumble.
It was cold. Damp. Yucky. I was undaunted. "They're going to be out of meatballs," DH said.
As we crossed to the parking lot, the cops were once again letting cars in. "By the time you go for yours, we'll have it closed again!" The traffic cop was unusually perky for a cold and wet day.
We entered with streams of likewise Ikea-crazy patrons. Made use of the facilities. The paper-towel trash can in the ladies room was already almost full, and they had been open only 1.5 hours. The trash can was the huge kind, 4' tall and about 2.5' across.
We received "random gift cards" as we entered. Typically the Door Prize Queen, I excitedly ripped mine open. I fully expected to see a $1,000 shopping spree.
One free cinnamon roll. Hmph.
DH got, buy one yogurt, get one free. Hmph.
For the uninitiated, I'll explain that Ikea has one path for shopping. You have to follow the circuit. They have integrated a few shortcuts to this department or that one, but overall, you have to follow the yellow brick road.
"They're gonna be out of meatballs," he said.
When we finally made it to the office section, the drawer units I had studied online were not at all what I thought they were. A salesman showed me a much, much better option, and I made my decision. I walked away with two pieces of paper; one for getting my desktop from the self-serve section and one for getting the drawer units from the place where the workers get them for you.
We wound through the store to find the stairs down so we could check out. On the way, we came to the cafe. "AH! It's not full! Let's go get you some meatballs!"
"I don't want any meatballs."
Remind me again why I ...? Oh yeah, he helped me in the mud.
DH helped me find the desktop in the appropriate "bin" downstairs and load it on the flatbed buggy. I lined up to check out. Gazing out the windows, he was dubious about getting into the parking lot to load up the cartons.
"Just sweet-talk the cop and tell him you have to load purchases," I smiled at him.
He did not seem at all comfortable with this plan. It made perfect sense to me.
We suffered through an uncomfortable 5 minutes when it seemed my desk, so near now, was not going to happen.
Finally, I left the checkout line and found a manager. I explained that I was trying to purchase furniture and my DH was concerned that he could not get through to the parking lot to load it up.
"I was just out there. There are several parking places and they are letting people in. See?" He pointed out the window, and there were, in fact, moving cars across on the service road.
I returned to DH with the good news. He set off for the 2.5 mile hike as I paid for my purchases. I was wishing my phone had power.
The full-serve area already had my drawer units loaded on another flatbed buggy. Some very cute young men moved boxes from one flatbed buggy to another so I only had one buggy to navigate outside to the loading dock.
I sat inside the warm store on a bench facing windows and watched for DH to appear. Turned my phone on, called him. "Where are you now?" Turned it back off. Waited five minutes. Turned it on. "Where are you now?"
Finally I saw his car at the crossing, then on the service road, then in the parking lot.
I wheeled the cart outside and we loaded it up. Drove home and he unloaded my desktop from the car. EEeerk. Dropped it. I could envision shattered glass inside, but thank you God, when we opened it, we found one teensy chip on the edge, which we oriented to the rear of the desk.
DH assembled everything in record time and I love my new desk.
"I'll just put the roof rack on the car and you can get someone to tie your boxes on it."
I shuddered.
If they deliver it and drop it, they give me a new one. Remember, it's glass. If it flies off the roof as I zoom down the interstate, no one gives me a new one. I'm out the money AND the desk.
As The Big Day approached, I began to telephone gf's in search of a chum to accompany me. One evening, DH remarked, "Remember how much we enjoyed going to Ikea together in DC?"
Ah. "Do YOU want to go to the opening with me?"
He did. So I stopped trying to cajole my gf's into going on this crazy excursion with me. Good. He can handle the roof rack.
The idea began to seem even crazier when we read in the local paper (a fine publication, btw) that Ikea was going to allow people to camp on the doorstep two days ahead of the opening.
Really.
So the day approached. DH had the day off. We had to drop LO at the theater uptown that morning at 8am. She is in the kids' production of The Tempest and gets to miss school for a few days. I'm pretty sure that's why she goes out for plays. To miss school.
So we planned to drop her and get on the road at 8. The store would open at 9.
The night before, I commented, "Do you think we'll sit in the car for an hour?"
"Nah!" DH replied.
The day dawned cold, gray, and wet. Drizzling rain and cold winds. Our trip was pleasant enough and we exited the interstate at 9 straight up. Cold wet police directed us to turn away from the store to join the line of cars waiting for entry. "They're going to be out of meatballs," DH muttered.
I noticed my cell phone was almost dead. Dang. Why didn't I think to charge it last night? If we got separated, I couldn't call DH.
It took us an hour to reach the bridge across the interstate. As we neared the store, we saw police cars parked across the entry. The parking lot was full and they were turning cars away.
As we drove past the store, we saw pedestrians valiantly pushing babies in strollers in the cold and rain to the store. Ikea diehards. I identified. I rolled down the window. "WHERE'D YOU PARK?" I yelled. "Turn right up ahead! There's a strip mall down the road! Park there!"
We were off.
We found the strip mall, 2.5 short miles from Ikea. The rain cleared up. All we had to do was walk in the cold. Red clay mud medians were covered in straw. The mud tried to suck the shoes off my feet as we crossed. Another red clay hill, covered in straw, lay between us and the store. "Walk sideways so you won't fall into traffic," DH advised me. He held my hand to keep me steady. Aw. This is why I married this man. Remind me next time I grumble.
It was cold. Damp. Yucky. I was undaunted. "They're going to be out of meatballs," DH said.
As we crossed to the parking lot, the cops were once again letting cars in. "By the time you go for yours, we'll have it closed again!" The traffic cop was unusually perky for a cold and wet day.
We entered with streams of likewise Ikea-crazy patrons. Made use of the facilities. The paper-towel trash can in the ladies room was already almost full, and they had been open only 1.5 hours. The trash can was the huge kind, 4' tall and about 2.5' across.
We received "random gift cards" as we entered. Typically the Door Prize Queen, I excitedly ripped mine open. I fully expected to see a $1,000 shopping spree.
One free cinnamon roll. Hmph.
DH got, buy one yogurt, get one free. Hmph.
For the uninitiated, I'll explain that Ikea has one path for shopping. You have to follow the circuit. They have integrated a few shortcuts to this department or that one, but overall, you have to follow the yellow brick road.
"They're gonna be out of meatballs," he said.
When we finally made it to the office section, the drawer units I had studied online were not at all what I thought they were. A salesman showed me a much, much better option, and I made my decision. I walked away with two pieces of paper; one for getting my desktop from the self-serve section and one for getting the drawer units from the place where the workers get them for you.
We wound through the store to find the stairs down so we could check out. On the way, we came to the cafe. "AH! It's not full! Let's go get you some meatballs!"
"I don't want any meatballs."
Remind me again why I ...? Oh yeah, he helped me in the mud.
DH helped me find the desktop in the appropriate "bin" downstairs and load it on the flatbed buggy. I lined up to check out. Gazing out the windows, he was dubious about getting into the parking lot to load up the cartons.
"Just sweet-talk the cop and tell him you have to load purchases," I smiled at him.
He did not seem at all comfortable with this plan. It made perfect sense to me.
We suffered through an uncomfortable 5 minutes when it seemed my desk, so near now, was not going to happen.
Finally, I left the checkout line and found a manager. I explained that I was trying to purchase furniture and my DH was concerned that he could not get through to the parking lot to load it up.
"I was just out there. There are several parking places and they are letting people in. See?" He pointed out the window, and there were, in fact, moving cars across on the service road.
I returned to DH with the good news. He set off for the 2.5 mile hike as I paid for my purchases. I was wishing my phone had power.
The full-serve area already had my drawer units loaded on another flatbed buggy. Some very cute young men moved boxes from one flatbed buggy to another so I only had one buggy to navigate outside to the loading dock.
I sat inside the warm store on a bench facing windows and watched for DH to appear. Turned my phone on, called him. "Where are you now?" Turned it back off. Waited five minutes. Turned it on. "Where are you now?"
Finally I saw his car at the crossing, then on the service road, then in the parking lot.
I wheeled the cart outside and we loaded it up. Drove home and he unloaded my desktop from the car. EEeerk. Dropped it. I could envision shattered glass inside, but thank you God, when we opened it, we found one teensy chip on the edge, which we oriented to the rear of the desk.
DH assembled everything in record time and I love my new desk.
Monday, February 9
Reality Check at 5 Weeks
Ok. So I have been reporting education for about a month now.
One reporter, a rather curmudgeon-y reporter, sauntered over to the desk where I work the other day, and growled, "So, ya sick of education beat yet?"
I looked up from my work and said, "Hey, in light of the economy, I'm happy for the work. I even feel that way when I type the crime blotter."
Her face assumed a look of total disgust. She gave a very short exhale through her teeth, sort of a "FTH!" and sauntered off.
I take it she did not care for my reply. She wanted negativity. She wanted me to complain, to whine.
Realizing that, I had to curb my enthusiasm.
But, between you and me, I love it.
Let's see what I've covered in 5 weeks.
Next week I visit a kindergarten class to attend the wedding of Q and U.
After the ceremony, we will go outside and throw birdseed, then attend a reception.
I am trying to think of an appropriate wedding gift.
Hey, how on earth could I BE sick of this gig? It's fun. I am learning a lot. I am not some young kid fresh out of college lamenting the absence of The Big Story. It's work, it's steady, I still work for myself, and I get to talk to kids a lot. It's local, it's safe, and I work it around my personal schedule.
Sounds like a dream to me.
Sick of the education beat? Fth!
One reporter, a rather curmudgeon-y reporter, sauntered over to the desk where I work the other day, and growled, "So, ya sick of education beat yet?"
I looked up from my work and said, "Hey, in light of the economy, I'm happy for the work. I even feel that way when I type the crime blotter."
Her face assumed a look of total disgust. She gave a very short exhale through her teeth, sort of a "FTH!" and sauntered off.
I take it she did not care for my reply. She wanted negativity. She wanted me to complain, to whine.
Realizing that, I had to curb my enthusiasm.
But, between you and me, I love it.
Let's see what I've covered in 5 weeks.
- 12 girl basketball players from the high school tutor at-risk kids for 3 months
- the public library is giving books to parents and teaching them to read to their 4-year-olds
- our school system receives its report card on No Child Left Behind
- the first African American college in the US (6 blocks from our house) celebrates Founder's Day
- the first woman governor of NC visits Founder's Day at said AA college (with a press conference!)
- recent college graduate returns from Kenya
- drug addiction counselor speaks to middle school parents
- inauguration day at LO's middle school
- western day at local elementary school
- local high school gets 200 iPod touch devices for freshmen to study with
- school board meetings
- 12 dentists volunteer their time and materials to coat students' teeth with anti-decay material
- 100 hispanic parents learn English in elementary school. Local diverse church tutors them.
Next week I visit a kindergarten class to attend the wedding of Q and U.
After the ceremony, we will go outside and throw birdseed, then attend a reception.
I am trying to think of an appropriate wedding gift.
Hey, how on earth could I BE sick of this gig? It's fun. I am learning a lot. I am not some young kid fresh out of college lamenting the absence of The Big Story. It's work, it's steady, I still work for myself, and I get to talk to kids a lot. It's local, it's safe, and I work it around my personal schedule.
Sounds like a dream to me.
Sick of the education beat? Fth!
Spring
After 53 winters, one would guess that I might have a fundamental understanding that Spring Always Comes.
And while I seem to understand that intellectually, at some level, I seem to forget. Every year.
The temp today will climb to 64 degrees; Tuesday and Wednesday will bring 72. The weekend was sunny and balmy. The birds are singing and they don't have to flock to the birdfeeder as they have in weeks past; worms must be rising to the top of the soil.
Every year, this shocks me. It seems I resign myself to limited sunshine, cold temps, and gloomy skies.
We'll have a warm break and I'll see crocuses or hear birds, or see a flash of green, and I'll be shocked. "Spring is going to come!" It's always a lovely surprise, and in some way, I guess I am glad I get the annual amnesia. Without it, I wouldn't have such a lovely gift when the signs come.
And while I seem to understand that intellectually, at some level, I seem to forget. Every year.
The temp today will climb to 64 degrees; Tuesday and Wednesday will bring 72. The weekend was sunny and balmy. The birds are singing and they don't have to flock to the birdfeeder as they have in weeks past; worms must be rising to the top of the soil.
Every year, this shocks me. It seems I resign myself to limited sunshine, cold temps, and gloomy skies.
We'll have a warm break and I'll see crocuses or hear birds, or see a flash of green, and I'll be shocked. "Spring is going to come!" It's always a lovely surprise, and in some way, I guess I am glad I get the annual amnesia. Without it, I wouldn't have such a lovely gift when the signs come.
Thursday, February 5
Thursday
OK, when you see my blog and the title is as unimaginative as what day of the week it is, you can pretty well know, yawn, that, um, you can surf on. Pass me by.
Not that things have been boring around here. Au contraire. I've been like the proverbial hamster, churning that squeaky exercise wheel. But interesting? Not so sure.
Yesterday I was once again tied to the computer to complete the articles about our school system's performance. It took all day. I developed spreadsheets from the state website, and forwarded them to the graphics guy to make them pretty enough to print.
Then, using the spreadsheets, I compared this school to that one, our system to other school systems, our system to the state average.
Yawn.
But, hey, it's work.
Little Bit slept over last night. Now that she's getting the hang of being at Nana's, she is settling right in. She knows where stuff belongs and helps herself. Speaks up. This morning, I asked her if she wanted eggs or pancakes. She didn't hesitate. "Pancakes!" she smiled.
She had not done her homework last night (I was at a class and did not get to see her til this morning,) so she got it done as she ate and finished it up in the car.
LO's cell phone bit the dust. She thought we'd run out and buy her the latest. Noop. I dug out my old flipper and gave it to her. I offered to buy her a skin for it online, but she told me it is so hideous there was absolutely no sense putting a skin on it; it would not help. "It has an antenna," she complained. "What kind of antique has an antenna?"
Oh, well.
I journeyed to a city an hour away last night for a writing workshop. The teacher has 3 children's novels in print, published by real publishers, not vanity presses. That's a big factor nowadays when so many ppl are self-publishing. As my gf said, "That's like having your trophy made without running the race."
We are emailing our Chapter 1s to each other today. Yikes!
Not that things have been boring around here. Au contraire. I've been like the proverbial hamster, churning that squeaky exercise wheel. But interesting? Not so sure.
Yesterday I was once again tied to the computer to complete the articles about our school system's performance. It took all day. I developed spreadsheets from the state website, and forwarded them to the graphics guy to make them pretty enough to print.
Then, using the spreadsheets, I compared this school to that one, our system to other school systems, our system to the state average.
Yawn.
But, hey, it's work.
Little Bit slept over last night. Now that she's getting the hang of being at Nana's, she is settling right in. She knows where stuff belongs and helps herself. Speaks up. This morning, I asked her if she wanted eggs or pancakes. She didn't hesitate. "Pancakes!" she smiled.
She had not done her homework last night (I was at a class and did not get to see her til this morning,) so she got it done as she ate and finished it up in the car.
LO's cell phone bit the dust. She thought we'd run out and buy her the latest. Noop. I dug out my old flipper and gave it to her. I offered to buy her a skin for it online, but she told me it is so hideous there was absolutely no sense putting a skin on it; it would not help. "It has an antenna," she complained. "What kind of antique has an antenna?"
Oh, well.
I journeyed to a city an hour away last night for a writing workshop. The teacher has 3 children's novels in print, published by real publishers, not vanity presses. That's a big factor nowadays when so many ppl are self-publishing. As my gf said, "That's like having your trophy made without running the race."
We are emailing our Chapter 1s to each other today. Yikes!
Tuesday, February 3
Double Vision
I am totally fried from working all day on spreadsheets detailing performance of our school system on End of Grade testing last year. End of Grade testing is our state's way of measuring if our students learned, and how much. It's one component of No Child Left Behind. It is my fondest hope that we can all Leave No Child Left Behind, Behind. I like to call it W's Folly.
The data was just released by the State: school by school, system-wide, and state-wide.
I entered data from each of our schools, comparing performance to the year prior. Also each school compared to our school system altogether, and to the State.
Our school system did not fare too well, but is making tiny steps of progress.
In-between studying all the data and posting it to spreadsheets, I was busy preparing Chocolate Lava Cakes for the Food Page in the local paper. The photographer came at 2pm and took pictures.
Girlfriends came at 7pm and had wine and chocolate. We gabbed for an hour and a half, and they headed home. DH was working nights but had thoughtfully laid a fire with a piece of newspaper prominently sticking out so all I had to do was strike a match and light the edge of it.
Soon as the gfs left, I headed back to the computer to finish up the spreadsheets. Emailed them to our graphics guy at 10:50. ps. I got up at 5 this morning to print it all out and get ready for a long day. Newsroom this morning, LO checkup in afternoon, take her to tutoring at 6, head across town to a middle school to cover an addictions speaker, slip out at 7:30, pick her up at 8. whew. I am tired just thinking of it.
Then LO (yes, she was up, lots of homework) and I stretched out and watched "Peter and the Wolf" on the iPod. Great Performances on PBS. They sell the DVD for $29.95, but you can download the same thing on iTunes for $1.99.
Definitely worth a watch if you can get it. Amaaazing.
The data was just released by the State: school by school, system-wide, and state-wide.
I entered data from each of our schools, comparing performance to the year prior. Also each school compared to our school system altogether, and to the State.
Our school system did not fare too well, but is making tiny steps of progress.
In-between studying all the data and posting it to spreadsheets, I was busy preparing Chocolate Lava Cakes for the Food Page in the local paper. The photographer came at 2pm and took pictures.
Girlfriends came at 7pm and had wine and chocolate. We gabbed for an hour and a half, and they headed home. DH was working nights but had thoughtfully laid a fire with a piece of newspaper prominently sticking out so all I had to do was strike a match and light the edge of it.
Soon as the gfs left, I headed back to the computer to finish up the spreadsheets. Emailed them to our graphics guy at 10:50. ps. I got up at 5 this morning to print it all out and get ready for a long day. Newsroom this morning, LO checkup in afternoon, take her to tutoring at 6, head across town to a middle school to cover an addictions speaker, slip out at 7:30, pick her up at 8. whew. I am tired just thinking of it.
Then LO (yes, she was up, lots of homework) and I stretched out and watched "Peter and the Wolf" on the iPod. Great Performances on PBS. They sell the DVD for $29.95, but you can download the same thing on iTunes for $1.99.
Definitely worth a watch if you can get it. Amaaazing.
Monday, February 2
Good to have a Pro in the Family
So LO and I got in the car after church. We had not driven 1/2 block when I asked her, "Do you hear that noise?" She did.
It was coming from the right rear side. It sounded like a coffee can full of marbles. "Oh, no," I thought. "My brakes are messed up. Big money."
As we proceeded the mile home, I asked her to call DH. "Tell him to come outside. We are picking him up."
DH was waiting in the front yard when we pulled up. "What's wrong?"
I asked him to sit in the back seat and drove on. He heard it and asked me to drive back home.
In the driveway, he got out and went around to the back of the car. Went under the car. I was inside praying for his good shirt. "Please don't get grease on it..."
He came from under the car and went around to the right side. Went under again. ]
Victorious, he emerged. In his hand was a branch. It had been dragging on the street, making the suspicious noise.
Boy, it's nice to have a professional around.
It was coming from the right rear side. It sounded like a coffee can full of marbles. "Oh, no," I thought. "My brakes are messed up. Big money."
As we proceeded the mile home, I asked her to call DH. "Tell him to come outside. We are picking him up."
DH was waiting in the front yard when we pulled up. "What's wrong?"
I asked him to sit in the back seat and drove on. He heard it and asked me to drive back home.
In the driveway, he got out and went around to the back of the car. Went under the car. I was inside praying for his good shirt. "Please don't get grease on it..."
He came from under the car and went around to the right side. Went under again. ]
Victorious, he emerged. In his hand was a branch. It had been dragging on the street, making the suspicious noise.
Boy, it's nice to have a professional around.
Saturday, January 31
Lovely Day
So LO went home from the theater last night with a gf for a sleepover. DH invited me on a date, or I threatened him if he didn't, I don't quite remember which.
We dressed up and went to Restaurant 46, a delightful place in a nearby little town.
The little town was a textile village until it became an incorporated town in 1986. Until then, it was just a company village in the county. A huge textile company had a plant there, and virtually everyone worked there. Their grammas had worked there before them, and their parents before them.
Then NAFTA took all the textile business to China, and India, and even Sri Lanka, and all the textile mills in NC closed. It wasn't glamorous work, but it was work for generations of people.
One of the recent owners had been David Murdock, a multi, multi-millionaire who owns Dole foods and who knows what else.
He for some reason had some empathy for this little town whose only real revenue came from the now-closed textile mill.
He bought the closed mill, tore down all the gorgeous old brick buildings, and established a research center. Biotechnology. Dole foods has a lab there and the NC universities all have a presence there.
So now where the textile mills stood, beacons of the past, now stand labs, beacons of the future. All the buildings are red brick, as were their predecessors, four or five stories, all traditional architecture.
Scientists are moving into town. The campus is becoming quite lovely.
Murdock, although wealthy, is said to be a bit idiosyncratic. Quite the health nut. Rumor has it one of his contractors for the buildings was obese. Murdock offered the man $10,000 if he would lose 150 pounds. The man did and Murdock wrote him the check.
Someone in the little town told me DM doesn't want the scientists cranking up their cars to go across campus from one lab to another, so this fellow had to assemble 100 10-speed bikes for the employees to have available to travel around campus.
A restaurant opened there recently, named Restaurant 46. The number represents the strands in DNA.
I had been wanting to go for a while.
It's said to be pricey but healthy.
We had fun. The flowers on the table were in a beaker, a real beaker, with cc's marked on it.
My wine was served in a beaker-like glass.
The walls had stenciled on them quotations from famous people, quotations that had to do with discovery, curiosity, and education.
The waitress was great. There really weren't any vegan items on the menu so she chatted with the chef and they came up with a dish that was out of this world: artichoke hearts, asparagus and tomatoes atop fettucini. With a little white wine splashed over it. mmm.
DH had seafood served over lobster risotto.
We did not order salads or dessert. I had one glass of wine and he had a glass of beer.
We were full as ticks as we waddled out of there, not our intention, but it was so good! Happy. I felt very coddled with my custom dish.
We came home and DH built a fire and we watched CNN and chatted. We spent all evening chatting.
When LO is around we can certainly chat. But being just the two of us felt special, it is in truth very rare, and we had a lovely time.
We slept in this morning. We worked together to get the house clean, quite necessary nowadays that I am a working girl more than usual. At about 3:30 he said, grab your coat, we are going out.
We ran to the thrift store to find a dresser for LO less than 43" wide, the space betw her closet and bedroom door. She has a teensy dresser there now, with only one drawer, and it is overloaded with makeup and keepsakes.
We found a perfect antique dresser with a big round mirror, very art deco, and paid $22.50 for it. When it is warmer, LO and I will take it outside and sand it and paint it white to match her bed and nightstand. For now it is black, but very charming. And. it. was. cheap. Solid wood, I might add, with dovetails and all. Even the drawer insides are not plywood, I daresay it was built before the onset of plywood.
So we had a lovely day. Missed LO and were glad when she returned. But it was fun to have a date. And I don't even feel guilty.
We dressed up and went to Restaurant 46, a delightful place in a nearby little town.
The little town was a textile village until it became an incorporated town in 1986. Until then, it was just a company village in the county. A huge textile company had a plant there, and virtually everyone worked there. Their grammas had worked there before them, and their parents before them.
Then NAFTA took all the textile business to China, and India, and even Sri Lanka, and all the textile mills in NC closed. It wasn't glamorous work, but it was work for generations of people.
One of the recent owners had been David Murdock, a multi, multi-millionaire who owns Dole foods and who knows what else.
He for some reason had some empathy for this little town whose only real revenue came from the now-closed textile mill.
He bought the closed mill, tore down all the gorgeous old brick buildings, and established a research center. Biotechnology. Dole foods has a lab there and the NC universities all have a presence there.
So now where the textile mills stood, beacons of the past, now stand labs, beacons of the future. All the buildings are red brick, as were their predecessors, four or five stories, all traditional architecture.
Scientists are moving into town. The campus is becoming quite lovely.
Murdock, although wealthy, is said to be a bit idiosyncratic. Quite the health nut. Rumor has it one of his contractors for the buildings was obese. Murdock offered the man $10,000 if he would lose 150 pounds. The man did and Murdock wrote him the check.
Someone in the little town told me DM doesn't want the scientists cranking up their cars to go across campus from one lab to another, so this fellow had to assemble 100 10-speed bikes for the employees to have available to travel around campus.
A restaurant opened there recently, named Restaurant 46. The number represents the strands in DNA.
I had been wanting to go for a while.
It's said to be pricey but healthy.
We had fun. The flowers on the table were in a beaker, a real beaker, with cc's marked on it.
My wine was served in a beaker-like glass.
The walls had stenciled on them quotations from famous people, quotations that had to do with discovery, curiosity, and education.
The waitress was great. There really weren't any vegan items on the menu so she chatted with the chef and they came up with a dish that was out of this world: artichoke hearts, asparagus and tomatoes atop fettucini. With a little white wine splashed over it. mmm.
DH had seafood served over lobster risotto.
We did not order salads or dessert. I had one glass of wine and he had a glass of beer.
We were full as ticks as we waddled out of there, not our intention, but it was so good! Happy. I felt very coddled with my custom dish.
We came home and DH built a fire and we watched CNN and chatted. We spent all evening chatting.
When LO is around we can certainly chat. But being just the two of us felt special, it is in truth very rare, and we had a lovely time.
We slept in this morning. We worked together to get the house clean, quite necessary nowadays that I am a working girl more than usual. At about 3:30 he said, grab your coat, we are going out.
We ran to the thrift store to find a dresser for LO less than 43" wide, the space betw her closet and bedroom door. She has a teensy dresser there now, with only one drawer, and it is overloaded with makeup and keepsakes.
We found a perfect antique dresser with a big round mirror, very art deco, and paid $22.50 for it. When it is warmer, LO and I will take it outside and sand it and paint it white to match her bed and nightstand. For now it is black, but very charming. And. it. was. cheap. Solid wood, I might add, with dovetails and all. Even the drawer insides are not plywood, I daresay it was built before the onset of plywood.
So we had a lovely day. Missed LO and were glad when she returned. But it was fun to have a date. And I don't even feel guilty.
Friday, January 30
Bo-nanza
Our little downtown has a gift shop filled with toys, gadgets, all sorts of things that you really don't need, but that make great gifts for others.
Outside the shop is a coin-operated horse for the children to ride. Stumbled upon this film today of the actual horse in our own little town. Enjoy.
Outside the shop is a coin-operated horse for the children to ride. Stumbled upon this film today of the actual horse in our own little town. Enjoy.
Kinship
Yesterday, I had to opportunity to be with like-minded women not once, but twice, in the same day.
To say our little town is conservative, is an understatement. Elizabeth Dole grew up here, and a few years ago, there was a billboard beside the interstate highway with a picture of her and her husband. The caption read: "(Small Town)'s Favorite Daughter and Son."
Um,
Ick?
So after a while you learn to go underground with your thoughts and ideals. Embrace them as you are accustomed to doing, and people just .... .... .... look at you.
Fortunately our neighborhood is quite eclectic, and has its share of progressives. But the town at large? Puh-leeze.
So I was glad a couple of months ago when a sweet friend who was very active in recruiting workers for Obama mentioned to me she was in a liberals' book club. "We rarely read any more," she said, "but it's great to get together and feel like we are not such a minority."
"It's a shame you're a working gal," she said. "We'd love to have you."
Hmm. What did that mean? It was like two opposing messages in the same sentence.
So I called her on it.
"I free lance so I can have a life, too," I declared. "I'd love to come."
Then I kicked myself around the block in my own head for a week. Why was I so rude?
Well, rude or not, she added me to her group email and I have enjoyed being privy to the electronically-transmitted insights shared in this group.
Yesterday I got to meet them all in person.
The same friend hosted everyone at her home. She had gone to the Inauguration and was ready to share. Her story of The Purple Tickets was a riot. I may email her and ask permission to post it on the blog.
I was, I believe, the only person, or perhaps one of two or three, who does not belong to the Country Club. Undaunted, I strolled in as if I were an Old Timer.
Everyone was just as cordial as could be, and treated me like an old friend. We talked and gabbed and regaled every detail we could think of in the inaugural process. After an hour or so, we picked up our pocketbooks and went home.
It was great.
Last night, on the very same day, I had kinship of a different sort.
To understand why it was meaningful, you have to realize how very isolating writing is.
Teachers teach a group. They work with other teachers. Social workers are intimate in others' lives. Factory workers, office workers, have people they love, or loathe, but they have people.
Writers? It's me and the screen. And the cat. And the bunny slippers. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a vacuum. I LOVE IT, would not trade it for the WORLD, but, yes, it is a solitary pursuit.
Last Sunday at church, I ran into a fellow parishioner whom I don't know very well, but have always liked. Both of us have girls in the local theater's children's play. I remarked how LO has enjoyed seeing her little girl, who is talented and articulate, and just a delight. We chatted for a minute and somehow, I don't even remember how, it came out that both she and I are writing a children's novel.
We were both shocked.
Then in walked our friend, the wife of one of our pastors. She is a pastor herself, although not of our own church. She has been quite busy of late, pursuing her own doctorate. Her Sweet Husband already has one.
She picked up on the conversation and confessed that, yes, she is writing a children's novel, herself.
Of all people, she, the pastor, said, "Isn't it a coincidence that the three of us came into this place and we're all writing a book?"
So we decided to email each other our Ch.1 and meet for feedback.
The meeting was last night. The three of us gathered at a local coffeehouse and remarked on each other's work. We used the sandwich method: say something nice, then a critical remark, then something nice.
I hope I was as nice to them as they were to me. I did not feel attacked at all. The book, of course, is my baby. But they made very helpful comments to me and I dreamed of my story all night long. You see it's 5:15am now and I have already been up an HOUR. I just could not lie in the bed any longer.
It was so affirming to meet with other women who know the solitude and ownership and satisfaction of writing.
At this point, we don't know if we will meet long-term, or regularly, or what. We're getting together again next week, to go over Ch. 2.
And I can't wait.
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