Monday, December 31, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Ginger Bread Shack (Love Sold Seperately)
Last week at work we had a Holiday Party where we were (strongly) encouraged to make structures from gingerbread. I'd never done such a thing before, so absent of any preconception, I shot from the heart. Behold, my Ginger Bread Shack:
- Quality, delicious construction,
- Firewood, for those cold, long winters,
- Tin roof,
- Stack of tires,
- Dead grass,
- Broken flagstone sidewalk,
- Tire four, around back,
- Crawlspace, because critters need homes too.
Adventure Today!
Saturday night we "got some weather" in the form of a mess of sleet. I couldn't shovel it. I had to pick at it, then scoop the chunks aside. Yesterday it took me two hours to clear most of the driveway and the sidewalk in front of my house. I don't know what we did to piss off God, but it must have happened recently, because when I was a kid, I remember snow dammit. Not this two inches of Satan's own frosty brine from hell.
My town isn't famous for its street plowing. Also, it's on the side of a hill. This is fun if you're into staring out the window, waiting for something cool to happen. Not if you like to keep your premiums down. I'm fortunate enough to have off street parking behind my house. Unfortunately my only access to these spots is a one lane alley that runs uphill. Let's say that my house is 75% of the way up this hill. I only got my car 40% of the way up before I lost momentum. There was a set of well worn tracks that was mostly patches of slush and ice with some rare areas worn through to the pavement. I kept backing up about 20 feet and trying to get a run, but I never got as far up as I did the first time. I knew I should have gotten a better run from the start, but I didn't because I 1) foolishly thought the road would be in better shape than last night, and 2) was made nervous by all the damn kids screwing around in the alley as they made their way to school. I had to back my way down the whole hill and park in a lot that's about five minutes away by foot. Though this was all stressful, I don't think it would have been so bad if I didn't have to really poop.
I debated leaving my car in the lot against making another try before dusk, thinking the roads would have melted the most by then. My second attempt proved more fruitful, though scarier, as I floored it on the way up and made a 15 mph Hail Mary drive into my driveway through the uncleared ice.
Other recent adventures include: losing my ATM/check card, and ripping half my pinky toe nail off by stubbing it into the door jam (thanks Starbuck!).
The weekend wasn't all bad though. Got to have spur the moment dinner with old friends, watch The Office, Natural Born Killers, and Putney Swope with the Mistress, and I do believe we made some tea.
My town isn't famous for its street plowing. Also, it's on the side of a hill. This is fun if you're into staring out the window, waiting for something cool to happen. Not if you like to keep your premiums down. I'm fortunate enough to have off street parking behind my house. Unfortunately my only access to these spots is a one lane alley that runs uphill. Let's say that my house is 75% of the way up this hill. I only got my car 40% of the way up before I lost momentum. There was a set of well worn tracks that was mostly patches of slush and ice with some rare areas worn through to the pavement. I kept backing up about 20 feet and trying to get a run, but I never got as far up as I did the first time. I knew I should have gotten a better run from the start, but I didn't because I 1) foolishly thought the road would be in better shape than last night, and 2) was made nervous by all the damn kids screwing around in the alley as they made their way to school. I had to back my way down the whole hill and park in a lot that's about five minutes away by foot. Though this was all stressful, I don't think it would have been so bad if I didn't have to really poop.
I debated leaving my car in the lot against making another try before dusk, thinking the roads would have melted the most by then. My second attempt proved more fruitful, though scarier, as I floored it on the way up and made a 15 mph Hail Mary drive into my driveway through the uncleared ice.
Other recent adventures include: losing my ATM/check card, and ripping half my pinky toe nail off by stubbing it into the door jam (thanks Starbuck!).
The weekend wasn't all bad though. Got to have spur the moment dinner with old friends, watch The Office, Natural Born Killers, and Putney Swope with the Mistress, and I do believe we made some tea.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Freedom, Horrible Freedom
Freedom
Today was my last day of work for about a month. My job is only ten months, so between December and January, I come suddenly into a glut of free time. I have some goals in mind about how I should spend this precious resource. For one thing, I want to do something creative, like write, for at least an hour once each day. If I miss a day here or there I should be okay, so long as I do it most days. The other goal is to finally make this house mine: finish the kitchen, clean out the bathroom closet, decorate, and enjoy. Doesn't sound like too much to ask, does it? We'll see.
Master of all I see
The situation on my Grape iMac is as follows: with OS 9 installed, I'm able to play DVDs without a problem. However, under Linux, they are unwatchable. Under Linux, I can watch DivX, AVI, and other compressed video formats. I can't easily find players to do so for Mac OS 9. The solution: dual boot.
Without going into the gruesome details, it was a chore and a half to get this thing to dual boot. Last night I experienced the fabulous, magical moment when the whole damn thing finally worked. I felt cocky as hell. It runs Xubuntu fairly well, and browsing the internet suprisingly does not suck. (We're talking eight year old tech here people, and mid range tech at that.)
Also, I made a desktop for it:
I wanted to incorporate the the purple coloring while giving a nod to Xubuntu (the mouse in the circle thing). None of the desktops I found online matched the intense grapeness the iMac exudes. They just don't color 'em like the used to. Remember when the look caught on, and everything plastic was being made with fruity iMac like colors? That didn't last long. It was a late 90's thing, what with the good times and optimism and all.
While waiting for packages to download and install I framed some more posters. I had one really nice frame that was the size of the last two posters I had left. One was a Mallrats poster, the other a Star Trek IV poster. I decided to go with the Star Trek poster, even though I already knew where I wanted to hang the Mallrats poster, because it is a vintage, beat up poster. I felt seniority won it. It wasn't until after I got it all mounted that I noticed the following:
How freaking cool is that? I had no idea!
Frames
Sunday the Mistress and I went on a trip to find barry sax reeds (for her) and poster board (for me). For poster board we ended up at Michael's. I left spending way more than I intended to, for they had poster frames on sale, and you see, I must frame posters for reasons not yet determined. Actually, I think it's because I framed one, and felt that I had to frame the rest or they wouldn't look right. It was stressful, weighing out whether or not I buy these sweet frames on sale, or whether I wait like I was planning to so I'd have more money to buy other people things for Christmas, but in the end, my selfish-ass won.
Saturday
Oh geez, let's see.
Last weekend was a "take it easy" kind of weekend. Saturday The Mistress and I took a trip out to visit my college friend Johnny Blue Jeans. He had dinner and desert waiting for us: a delicious teryaki style pasta and chicken dish, followed by tea, canollis, and napoleons. His friends Brackus and Q.B. were there as well, and we all took delight in light discussion and ping pong.
Johnny Blue Jeans spent two years in Ukraine for the Peace Corps after college. I can't imagine how much he learned or how valuable that kind of perspective is. The last time I was at his house, I think, was his welcome back gathering about a year ago. I remember him looking both overwhelmed and distant. I'm sure part of it was time zone shock, but it made me think about how jarring it would be to culture switch instantaneously the way he had.
He was certainly more present and accounted for this weekend, though as we talked some tough themes certainly came up. That night I think I attributed them to a search for identity and meaning after having his home culture checked against another. After reflecting, I came back to the same conclusion I have again and again: no one I know in my age group knows what the fuck. That is to say: none of us have a clear drive or passion, (or if they do, not one they can sustain or pursue), none of us have a clear idea of what we feel we ought to be doing with our lives, and none of us have a sense of who we are or who we want to be.
Maybe I just hang out with too many atheists.
Friday
I (finally) had lunch with the Templetons! We discussed writing, school, work, family, and the what-nots. See, I'm trying to figure out who I am, or, more importantly(?), who I want to be. I'd like to go back to school, but seriously, for what? The answer is obvious: for something I'm passionate about, or for something that will allow me to do something I'm passionate about. What, then? Do I go to school for an MA or an MFA for writing? Do I look into something maybe dealing with gender studies, and take it all the way to a PhD? Do I try my hand at the LSATs and see if I can dig my way through law school just because the challenge excites me? No one can answer except me, of course. This would be fine except I don't know what the fuck.
The Templetons, being professors, students, practitioners, and admirers of the written word, spoke mostly of English MA programs and Creative Writing MFAs. Both lead you to teaching positions by default, and their advice was this: only go all the way it if you're sure that's what you'll want to do. I've never taught, and frankly, the notion of trying scares me. I love explaining things to people who are interested, but that hardly encapsulates the experience of teaching today. The more I read about how tough it is, the more I feel I'm not cut out for it.
On another note, Mr. Templeton's teaching an advanced poetry class this spring. I saw it in the class listings, but would never have asked about it, since I failed the last class I took with him. (It was an independent study course we designed, and never finished my portfolio to wrap the course up. A bout of writer's block combined with having graduated did me in.) He, however, asked if I would be interested in sitting in his class. Of course I said I was interested, and plan on emailing him soon to say yes. It's 9:20 in the morning or so, but where the class is held is less than 5 minutes walking distance from my house, which is just too cool. I know it's not coming across here, but I am so incredibly excited about this.
Car Parts
To celebrate the birth of Dark Mistress Hawthorne, I presented her the following: Windshield Wiper Blades and a (very nice) Mag Lite. (Also, a hand made card and a promise to dinner out somewhere nice.) She loved it. She was especially excited about the wiper blades, as hers currently suck, but she would never get around to actually replacing them. (We all know how that is.) She loved the gifts and is still my girlfriend, for which I am glad.
Today was my last day of work for about a month. My job is only ten months, so between December and January, I come suddenly into a glut of free time. I have some goals in mind about how I should spend this precious resource. For one thing, I want to do something creative, like write, for at least an hour once each day. If I miss a day here or there I should be okay, so long as I do it most days. The other goal is to finally make this house mine: finish the kitchen, clean out the bathroom closet, decorate, and enjoy. Doesn't sound like too much to ask, does it? We'll see.
Master of all I see
The situation on my Grape iMac is as follows: with OS 9 installed, I'm able to play DVDs without a problem. However, under Linux, they are unwatchable. Under Linux, I can watch DivX, AVI, and other compressed video formats. I can't easily find players to do so for Mac OS 9. The solution: dual boot.
Without going into the gruesome details, it was a chore and a half to get this thing to dual boot. Last night I experienced the fabulous, magical moment when the whole damn thing finally worked. I felt cocky as hell. It runs Xubuntu fairly well, and browsing the internet suprisingly does not suck. (We're talking eight year old tech here people, and mid range tech at that.)
Also, I made a desktop for it:
I wanted to incorporate the the purple coloring while giving a nod to Xubuntu (the mouse in the circle thing). None of the desktops I found online matched the intense grapeness the iMac exudes. They just don't color 'em like the used to. Remember when the look caught on, and everything plastic was being made with fruity iMac like colors? That didn't last long. It was a late 90's thing, what with the good times and optimism and all.
While waiting for packages to download and install I framed some more posters. I had one really nice frame that was the size of the last two posters I had left. One was a Mallrats poster, the other a Star Trek IV poster. I decided to go with the Star Trek poster, even though I already knew where I wanted to hang the Mallrats poster, because it is a vintage, beat up poster. I felt seniority won it. It wasn't until after I got it all mounted that I noticed the following:
How freaking cool is that? I had no idea!
Frames
Sunday the Mistress and I went on a trip to find barry sax reeds (for her) and poster board (for me). For poster board we ended up at Michael's. I left spending way more than I intended to, for they had poster frames on sale, and you see, I must frame posters for reasons not yet determined. Actually, I think it's because I framed one, and felt that I had to frame the rest or they wouldn't look right. It was stressful, weighing out whether or not I buy these sweet frames on sale, or whether I wait like I was planning to so I'd have more money to buy other people things for Christmas, but in the end, my selfish-ass won.
Saturday
Oh geez, let's see.
Last weekend was a "take it easy" kind of weekend. Saturday The Mistress and I took a trip out to visit my college friend Johnny Blue Jeans. He had dinner and desert waiting for us: a delicious teryaki style pasta and chicken dish, followed by tea, canollis, and napoleons. His friends Brackus and Q.B. were there as well, and we all took delight in light discussion and ping pong.
Johnny Blue Jeans spent two years in Ukraine for the Peace Corps after college. I can't imagine how much he learned or how valuable that kind of perspective is. The last time I was at his house, I think, was his welcome back gathering about a year ago. I remember him looking both overwhelmed and distant. I'm sure part of it was time zone shock, but it made me think about how jarring it would be to culture switch instantaneously the way he had.
He was certainly more present and accounted for this weekend, though as we talked some tough themes certainly came up. That night I think I attributed them to a search for identity and meaning after having his home culture checked against another. After reflecting, I came back to the same conclusion I have again and again: no one I know in my age group knows what the fuck. That is to say: none of us have a clear drive or passion, (or if they do, not one they can sustain or pursue), none of us have a clear idea of what we feel we ought to be doing with our lives, and none of us have a sense of who we are or who we want to be.
Maybe I just hang out with too many atheists.
Friday
I (finally) had lunch with the Templetons! We discussed writing, school, work, family, and the what-nots. See, I'm trying to figure out who I am, or, more importantly(?), who I want to be. I'd like to go back to school, but seriously, for what? The answer is obvious: for something I'm passionate about, or for something that will allow me to do something I'm passionate about. What, then? Do I go to school for an MA or an MFA for writing? Do I look into something maybe dealing with gender studies, and take it all the way to a PhD? Do I try my hand at the LSATs and see if I can dig my way through law school just because the challenge excites me? No one can answer except me, of course. This would be fine except I don't know what the fuck.
The Templetons, being professors, students, practitioners, and admirers of the written word, spoke mostly of English MA programs and Creative Writing MFAs. Both lead you to teaching positions by default, and their advice was this: only go all the way it if you're sure that's what you'll want to do. I've never taught, and frankly, the notion of trying scares me. I love explaining things to people who are interested, but that hardly encapsulates the experience of teaching today. The more I read about how tough it is, the more I feel I'm not cut out for it.
On another note, Mr. Templeton's teaching an advanced poetry class this spring. I saw it in the class listings, but would never have asked about it, since I failed the last class I took with him. (It was an independent study course we designed, and never finished my portfolio to wrap the course up. A bout of writer's block combined with having graduated did me in.) He, however, asked if I would be interested in sitting in his class. Of course I said I was interested, and plan on emailing him soon to say yes. It's 9:20 in the morning or so, but where the class is held is less than 5 minutes walking distance from my house, which is just too cool. I know it's not coming across here, but I am so incredibly excited about this.
Car Parts
To celebrate the birth of Dark Mistress Hawthorne, I presented her the following: Windshield Wiper Blades and a (very nice) Mag Lite. (Also, a hand made card and a promise to dinner out somewhere nice.) She loved it. She was especially excited about the wiper blades, as hers currently suck, but she would never get around to actually replacing them. (We all know how that is.) She loved the gifts and is still my girlfriend, for which I am glad.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
I Forgot To Add... Racism!
The Mistress reminded me that I forgot to mention Saturday's party at Easycheese's house. Every year (I'm guessing) Easycheese, an old friend from high school, hosts a "Thanksgiving Leftovers Party", the theme of which is: bring a dish of leftover Thanksgiving food. Though doors technically opened at one, by the time the Mistress and I arrived (at seven or eight I think) there was already a room temperature buffet of meats and deserts.
Our contribution was a pumpkin roll, one of six I helped D.M.H. make. I'm glad she set one aside for the party, as I would hate to have to pick out one leftover and bring it, thus breaking up the "Thanksgiving Set". Thanksgiving isn't about the Turkey. It's about the synergism of all the holiday dinner components.
I'm never using the word synergism to describe anything food related again. You know why.
This party was a get together for people who knew each other in high school, and the people some of those people met in college. I was very excited to see some of them, The Big E in particular. See, The Big E and Easycheese were in my Spanish class my freshmen year of high school. Now, myself, I liked Star Trek. I liked They Might Be Giants. I spent most of my time with my computer. I was, what you might say, a nerd. Being a freshmen, I was still feeling out my place in the ambient social hierarchies. The Big E and Easycheese were both upperclassmen, and they were "nerds" as well. With them, I was able to delight in and celebrate oddities and absurdities everyone else was too cool or too distracted to get. They made it "okay" to be a "nerd", and I am forever indebted to them for that.
Also at the party was Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster. Raucous is brash, loud, forward to the point of being borderline rude, and just a damn good time. He also was an upperclassmen I knew from high school, and I still can't put my finger on why we get along. I don't even know that we do. Maybe I just enjoy listening to his outrageous rants and biting comments, most of which I agree with.
As the night settled in, a large group of us gathered around to play Apples to Apples, a game in which everyone has five cards which conatin nouns, such as "Detroit, Mars, Anne Boleyn, The Philadelphia 76'ers, and Infants". Then one player gets an adjective card, such as "Respectful". Each player then picks which card in their hand they think the player holding the adjective card thinks most represents that adjective. That player then gets to pick which noun he likes best for his adjective. It sounds straightforward, but it's a wonderful game that really brings out people's individual senses of humor. My favorite (okay, the only one I can remember), is I voted Nicholas Cage as the most "Christy" submission I was given. (Christy was not a card, but what came about when I was passed a "Create Your Own Category" card on my first turn and proclaimed "Jesus Christ... I don't know. Jesus Christ.")
During a break in the action an argument kicked up between a woman whom I don't know well and Raucous. I wish I knew how it started, but to summarize, this woman, an adult near age 30, who seemed an intelligent person otherwise, thinks, honestly, that when Black people wash their skin with white fabric, that they turn the fabric black. At first I thought she was joking, but she dizzied me with this gem: "It's not their skin, it's the different oils on their skin, and it's the oils that turn the washcloth black." Raucous fought valiently in the name of common sense, but nothing short of having an actual person with dark complexion wash with a white cloth for all to see would sway her from her misguided notions. "That's why they don't like to go swimming!"
At which someone brilliantly cleared the awkwardness with a nerd stirring a capella rendition of "Racist Friend".
(Track 6 off the album Flood by They Might Be Giants, 1990.)
Our contribution was a pumpkin roll, one of six I helped D.M.H. make. I'm glad she set one aside for the party, as I would hate to have to pick out one leftover and bring it, thus breaking up the "Thanksgiving Set". Thanksgiving isn't about the Turkey. It's about the synergism of all the holiday dinner components.
I'm never using the word synergism to describe anything food related again. You know why.
This party was a get together for people who knew each other in high school, and the people some of those people met in college. I was very excited to see some of them, The Big E in particular. See, The Big E and Easycheese were in my Spanish class my freshmen year of high school. Now, myself, I liked Star Trek. I liked They Might Be Giants. I spent most of my time with my computer. I was, what you might say, a nerd. Being a freshmen, I was still feeling out my place in the ambient social hierarchies. The Big E and Easycheese were both upperclassmen, and they were "nerds" as well. With them, I was able to delight in and celebrate oddities and absurdities everyone else was too cool or too distracted to get. They made it "okay" to be a "nerd", and I am forever indebted to them for that.
Also at the party was Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster. Raucous is brash, loud, forward to the point of being borderline rude, and just a damn good time. He also was an upperclassmen I knew from high school, and I still can't put my finger on why we get along. I don't even know that we do. Maybe I just enjoy listening to his outrageous rants and biting comments, most of which I agree with.
As the night settled in, a large group of us gathered around to play Apples to Apples, a game in which everyone has five cards which conatin nouns, such as "Detroit, Mars, Anne Boleyn, The Philadelphia 76'ers, and Infants". Then one player gets an adjective card, such as "Respectful". Each player then picks which card in their hand they think the player holding the adjective card thinks most represents that adjective. That player then gets to pick which noun he likes best for his adjective. It sounds straightforward, but it's a wonderful game that really brings out people's individual senses of humor. My favorite (okay, the only one I can remember), is I voted Nicholas Cage as the most "Christy" submission I was given. (Christy was not a card, but what came about when I was passed a "Create Your Own Category" card on my first turn and proclaimed "Jesus Christ... I don't know. Jesus Christ.")
During a break in the action an argument kicked up between a woman whom I don't know well and Raucous. I wish I knew how it started, but to summarize, this woman, an adult near age 30, who seemed an intelligent person otherwise, thinks, honestly, that when Black people wash their skin with white fabric, that they turn the fabric black. At first I thought she was joking, but she dizzied me with this gem: "It's not their skin, it's the different oils on their skin, and it's the oils that turn the washcloth black." Raucous fought valiently in the name of common sense, but nothing short of having an actual person with dark complexion wash with a white cloth for all to see would sway her from her misguided notions. "That's why they don't like to go swimming!"
At which someone brilliantly cleared the awkwardness with a nerd stirring a capella rendition of "Racist Friend".
(Track 6 off the album Flood by They Might Be Giants, 1990.)
Impulse Buys, Gift Envy
Tomorrow is Dark Mistress Hawthorne's Birthday, and this morning I needed to run to the store to get one of her gifts. Unfortunately I slept late, which meant I had to scramble to get a plan together so I could make the store and make it home in time to make it to work.
I'm usually fairly immune to impulse buying, but occasionally the constant repression of my consumerist instincts results in a momentary lack of thriftiness. Today it took the form in a cat toy,
a poster frame,
and candy canes!
I know that Tarantino posters are so undergrad, but... fuck you, doubting internal monologue.
On a related note, my presents for D. M. H. are truly awful. I will let you know what they were later (she might be listening). Seriously, this is just about the worst birthday gift I think I've given. It wasn't so much a lack of time, but a lack of mental energy and clarity that left me in a lurch. I must redeem myself at Christmas.
A few questions remain: is mentioning this a calculated attempt at mitigating my girlfriend's expectations while garnering a modicum of sympathy? Perhaps. Will she still be my girlfriend come Friday? Probably. Will I try harder next time? Yeah, I think so. Will Starbuck help me wrap the presents? If by help, you mean be a colossal but cute pain in the ass, then definitely.
I'm usually fairly immune to impulse buying, but occasionally the constant repression of my consumerist instincts results in a momentary lack of thriftiness. Today it took the form in a cat toy,
a poster frame,
and candy canes!
I know that Tarantino posters are so undergrad, but... fuck you, doubting internal monologue.
On a related note, my presents for D. M. H. are truly awful. I will let you know what they were later (she might be listening). Seriously, this is just about the worst birthday gift I think I've given. It wasn't so much a lack of time, but a lack of mental energy and clarity that left me in a lurch. I must redeem myself at Christmas.
A few questions remain: is mentioning this a calculated attempt at mitigating my girlfriend's expectations while garnering a modicum of sympathy? Perhaps. Will she still be my girlfriend come Friday? Probably. Will I try harder next time? Yeah, I think so. Will Starbuck help me wrap the presents? If by help, you mean be a colossal but cute pain in the ass, then definitely.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Like Sand Through My Fingers
I've not posted in two weeks because it's been a crazy two weeks. Not overly crazy mind you, but it was the holidays and all. Here's a bullet point style of what I've been up to.
PRE HOLIDAYS
I think it was Monday before Thanksgiving I decided to finally make cookies. I say finally because a year ago at least mom bought me chocolate chips, Reese's Pieces... chips, and Heath Bar chips. Though chocolate chip will always be my favorite, I went with Heath out of curiosity. The recipe was mostly peanut butter and lard, and I don't have an electric mixer. Just this little hand job. Wait. That doesn't sound right.
I figured I'd suck it up and do it like in the old days and all. How did people make cookies before electricity, right? It was so freaking hard to turn that handle that the mixer actually skipped a gear. This caused me to test it out of the bowl, which of course sent peanut butter batter everywhichwhere, evoking one or two childhood memories at least.
In the end though, I came out with a batch of cookies that were delicious. Out of the oven, at least. At room temperature, they were mediocre at best. I took some to the Dark Mistress's house for her and her roomie, and I took some home for my folks. I visited my folks yesterday and there was still one cookie left. I of course must face truth: if folk do not eat your cookies in two weeks time, they simply do not inspire.
HOLIFRICKANDAYS
I decided at mom's suggestion to take Starbuck to Thanksgiving with me. I was worried how she'd get along with Big Orange/Bad Puddy/Bad Boy/Hobbes/my parents' cat. His big and mellow (except around children) and was nothing but curious about Starbuck. Starbuck, whether it was because she was still in the cone or just being in new territory, did nothing but hiss. All in all there were no problems though.
I got into town early to see the old high school rivalry football game with some high school friends. I'm not huge into football but it was an exciting game. Plus I ran into a kid I used to be close friends with back in grade school, and it turns out he lives twenty minutes from me. We exchanged numbers, and I can't wait to catch up with him.
THE LONG WEEKEND
The day after Thanksgiving I took Starbuck in to get her stitches out, but unfortunately they said she wasn't as "closed up inside" as they'd like, so it was back home with a couple of staples, some antibiotics, and another week of the cone.
She got good at managing with the cone, so I let her have reign of the house. They gave me treats to wrap her pills in, but that only worked once, so I had to learn how to pill her the good old fashion "this is for your own good" way. (For those wondering, that is to say I cradle her in my lap, hold her jaw open with one hand, and drop the pill at the back of her throat with the other.) For being such a spitfire, she's also a real good sport.
I generally avoid anything Black Friday, but I saw one deal I couldn't pass up: 5'x7.5' area carpets for $24. Granted, there were only three patterns to choose from, but they were all better than monotone.
Saturday my old friends Bennington and Funk stopped by. (Bennington and I have known each other since we were wee, and Funk is her husband.) It was a surprise visit, and we ended up going out to dinner. Also, they were the first to sign my guest book/type writer, which I suppose makes it official.
Sunday I celebrated my birthday, though it wasn't my birthday, with the Mistress, my folks, and my folks' folks. For the most part, it was good times. I came into some money, which I decided I will hide so I won't use it to pay the bills. It will instead go towards the "I want an electric guitar" fund. Because I want an electric guitar.
Monday it was to Spanky and Zanzibar's house to meet up with Stankfoot and play some hockey and Warhammer. It was fantastic.
BACK TO WORK
Going back to work was harsh. I had early meetings all week and had to stay late a lot. Not much free time. That's all there is to say.
Tuesday I had plans to get lunch with the, uh, Templetons. They're both former creative writing professors of mine, and without going into great detail, know that they've influenced me a great deal. I've decided that I don't want to keep working my job, but I don't want to cut without a plan. I'd like to go back to school, but I don't know for what. Every time I make up my mind, I find myself discouraged a few months later by tales of what comes after. I went to college from high school because that's what I was supposed to do. I studied philosophy because that's what engaged me. I want to go to school again because I want to be working on and towards something that's enriching and engaging, but I'm not going to just wing it. If I go, I want to know for what and why.
I want to get the Templetons' perspectives on creative writing, MAs and MFAs, teaching, and the like. Unfortunately, they stood me up, so ?.
Also, Tuesday I bought a toy:
I've always wanted one. I used to set up labs of these for the high school as a summer job. I don't have cable, and I don't have any televisions. But for $20 I have an old computer with a DVD player in it that sits nicely right in front of my couch.
All week I was obsessed with the notion of installing Linux or BSD on it. Why? I'm glad you asked. The iMac I bought comes with OS 9, which is kind of old. Browsing the internet with it sucks, because it doesn't run any modern browsers nicely. With Linux or BSD, I could install free, modern, and more secure applications. But, mostly, it's because I want to prove I can.
Sometime during the week I also tricked out the coffee table so there wouldn't be a mess'o'wire underneath. Eye hooks to the rescue!
Wednesday I was late for a very important meeting. Like, thirty minutes in front of everyone on our staff late. To a workshop. But I was late for the best of reasons, I reckon. Just as I was about to leave, my neighbor, Mrs. Fussnpuss knocked. Her toilet was running and she couldn't stop it. While my father pointed out that'll make it hard to go to the bathroom, the fact of the matter was it was wasting a lot of water and would have continued to do so had I not poked around in there. The culprit? A strange mineral build up that kept her flapper from sealing.
He he.
And Friday Starbuck returned to the vet to get her staples out. She's back to her old self again, minus some ovaries, plus a gross scar.
Tonight
Today was the first, legit "me" day I've had since... I dunno. Stankfoot and I hit the Bell early, and afterwards I began doing the things I do. To be honest, I don't remember what all I did and in what order, but here's a short list: washed sheets and blankets, did a load of dishes, took all the boxes and crap in the living room to other rooms to be organized and unpacked (finally), unrolled new carpet 2, re-arranged some of the living room, drained the hose and shut off the water leading to the outdoor faucet, vacuumed living room, decorated my tree (tree courtesy of a Grandma, lights courtesy of mom, bells courtesy of D. M. Hawthorne),...
... rescued a sweet Medusa lamp from the basement, hung mirrors in the hallway, and hung a couple posters. The living room looks, well, respectable.
Like someone actually lives here.
Oh, and the cherry on top:
Who kicks ass? I kick ass! Well, maybe just a little. I almost can't believe it works. How well, we shall yet see.
PRE HOLIDAYS
I think it was Monday before Thanksgiving I decided to finally make cookies. I say finally because a year ago at least mom bought me chocolate chips, Reese's Pieces... chips, and Heath Bar chips. Though chocolate chip will always be my favorite, I went with Heath out of curiosity. The recipe was mostly peanut butter and lard, and I don't have an electric mixer. Just this little hand job. Wait. That doesn't sound right.
I figured I'd suck it up and do it like in the old days and all. How did people make cookies before electricity, right? It was so freaking hard to turn that handle that the mixer actually skipped a gear. This caused me to test it out of the bowl, which of course sent peanut butter batter everywhichwhere, evoking one or two childhood memories at least.
In the end though, I came out with a batch of cookies that were delicious. Out of the oven, at least. At room temperature, they were mediocre at best. I took some to the Dark Mistress's house for her and her roomie, and I took some home for my folks. I visited my folks yesterday and there was still one cookie left. I of course must face truth: if folk do not eat your cookies in two weeks time, they simply do not inspire.
HOLIFRICKANDAYS
I decided at mom's suggestion to take Starbuck to Thanksgiving with me. I was worried how she'd get along with Big Orange/Bad Puddy/Bad Boy/Hobbes/my parents' cat. His big and mellow (except around children) and was nothing but curious about Starbuck. Starbuck, whether it was because she was still in the cone or just being in new territory, did nothing but hiss. All in all there were no problems though.
I got into town early to see the old high school rivalry football game with some high school friends. I'm not huge into football but it was an exciting game. Plus I ran into a kid I used to be close friends with back in grade school, and it turns out he lives twenty minutes from me. We exchanged numbers, and I can't wait to catch up with him.
THE LONG WEEKEND
The day after Thanksgiving I took Starbuck in to get her stitches out, but unfortunately they said she wasn't as "closed up inside" as they'd like, so it was back home with a couple of staples, some antibiotics, and another week of the cone.
She got good at managing with the cone, so I let her have reign of the house. They gave me treats to wrap her pills in, but that only worked once, so I had to learn how to pill her the good old fashion "this is for your own good" way. (For those wondering, that is to say I cradle her in my lap, hold her jaw open with one hand, and drop the pill at the back of her throat with the other.) For being such a spitfire, she's also a real good sport.
I generally avoid anything Black Friday, but I saw one deal I couldn't pass up: 5'x7.5' area carpets for $24. Granted, there were only three patterns to choose from, but they were all better than monotone.
Saturday my old friends Bennington and Funk stopped by. (Bennington and I have known each other since we were wee, and Funk is her husband.) It was a surprise visit, and we ended up going out to dinner. Also, they were the first to sign my guest book/type writer, which I suppose makes it official.
Sunday I celebrated my birthday, though it wasn't my birthday, with the Mistress, my folks, and my folks' folks. For the most part, it was good times. I came into some money, which I decided I will hide so I won't use it to pay the bills. It will instead go towards the "I want an electric guitar" fund. Because I want an electric guitar.
Monday it was to Spanky and Zanzibar's house to meet up with Stankfoot and play some hockey and Warhammer. It was fantastic.
BACK TO WORK
Going back to work was harsh. I had early meetings all week and had to stay late a lot. Not much free time. That's all there is to say.
Tuesday I had plans to get lunch with the, uh, Templetons. They're both former creative writing professors of mine, and without going into great detail, know that they've influenced me a great deal. I've decided that I don't want to keep working my job, but I don't want to cut without a plan. I'd like to go back to school, but I don't know for what. Every time I make up my mind, I find myself discouraged a few months later by tales of what comes after. I went to college from high school because that's what I was supposed to do. I studied philosophy because that's what engaged me. I want to go to school again because I want to be working on and towards something that's enriching and engaging, but I'm not going to just wing it. If I go, I want to know for what and why.
I want to get the Templetons' perspectives on creative writing, MAs and MFAs, teaching, and the like. Unfortunately, they stood me up, so ?.
Also, Tuesday I bought a toy:
I've always wanted one. I used to set up labs of these for the high school as a summer job. I don't have cable, and I don't have any televisions. But for $20 I have an old computer with a DVD player in it that sits nicely right in front of my couch.
All week I was obsessed with the notion of installing Linux or BSD on it. Why? I'm glad you asked. The iMac I bought comes with OS 9, which is kind of old. Browsing the internet with it sucks, because it doesn't run any modern browsers nicely. With Linux or BSD, I could install free, modern, and more secure applications. But, mostly, it's because I want to prove I can.
Sometime during the week I also tricked out the coffee table so there wouldn't be a mess'o'wire underneath. Eye hooks to the rescue!
Wednesday I was late for a very important meeting. Like, thirty minutes in front of everyone on our staff late. To a workshop. But I was late for the best of reasons, I reckon. Just as I was about to leave, my neighbor, Mrs. Fussnpuss knocked. Her toilet was running and she couldn't stop it. While my father pointed out that'll make it hard to go to the bathroom, the fact of the matter was it was wasting a lot of water and would have continued to do so had I not poked around in there. The culprit? A strange mineral build up that kept her flapper from sealing.
He he.
And Friday Starbuck returned to the vet to get her staples out. She's back to her old self again, minus some ovaries, plus a gross scar.
Tonight
Today was the first, legit "me" day I've had since... I dunno. Stankfoot and I hit the Bell early, and afterwards I began doing the things I do. To be honest, I don't remember what all I did and in what order, but here's a short list: washed sheets and blankets, did a load of dishes, took all the boxes and crap in the living room to other rooms to be organized and unpacked (finally), unrolled new carpet 2, re-arranged some of the living room, drained the hose and shut off the water leading to the outdoor faucet, vacuumed living room, decorated my tree (tree courtesy of a Grandma, lights courtesy of mom, bells courtesy of D. M. Hawthorne),...
... rescued a sweet Medusa lamp from the basement, hung mirrors in the hallway, and hung a couple posters. The living room looks, well, respectable.
Like someone actually lives here.
Oh, and the cherry on top:
Who kicks ass? I kick ass! Well, maybe just a little. I almost can't believe it works. How well, we shall yet see.
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