Kevin & I put up our tree this evening. I haven't posted in a while, so I figured this is as good an occasion as any. Over the two weeks before Christmas every year, the people in my wing at work coordinate to provide an abundance of sweets and snacks in a constant stream. Like, enough to make you feel like complete and total crap in time for the holidays. I feel like making babka, but I'm not sure I want to commit. It would be my first babka. Last year I brought in homemade tapenade on toasted french bread, which was great, I thought. I just found an email that I'd sent to Kevin on that day. It's a collection of verbal reactions to my tapenade from various concerned coworkers:
"What is this stuff? Why does it look like chocolate pudding?" "When I eat anything crunchy my filling always pops out & it's 1/2 of the tooth... so I have to be careful." "This might be a little too exotic for this group." "Did you talk to Fern about this?" (Fern said the first 2 ones) "People usually get this sort of thing in jars."
Gosh, I don't know what to bring. Anyway, I did finish my hobo gloves, as Kevin calls them. Here they are.
And also, here's a buttload of snow on our balcony. And just for the hell of it, our little tree. I just figured out how to work with exposure time on my digital camera, so bear with me. I kind of love it.
Something to be thankful for? How about three inches of snow + another Anne of Green Gables marathon on WI public television? By the way, it starts at 7:30 am and finishes at 5:30 pm in case you're interested. :)
Sunday, November 18, 2007
While I was driving down University Ave this evening I saw a young man holding a big sign that said, "Everybody sucks except for me!".
Last week I went to a software conference at a ski resort in Colorado with a couple coworkers. I enjoyed it, but I was a little surprised (and disappointed) by how few women were there, at least compared to other technical conferences I've attended. Perhaps for this reason, I seemed to be meeting new people at an alarmingly faster pace than my male coworkers.
Everyone seemed pretty nice, though there were a couple of suspected creeps, and at one point I found myself invited to the annual hot tub party that the regulars throw at the end of each conference ("Entry fee is a bottle of malt scotch + eligibility to vote!"). As you can imagine, I spent all my free time either hanging out with the handful of guys from my company, or alone in my hotel room with my door bolted. It was on one of the latter evenings that one of the guys I used to work with smoked a little something with the hotel employees and then went out drinking. Ambling back to the hotel at 2 am, he fell into an icy pond and lost his driver's license. I'm not actually sure if he made it back or not, without another photo id to board the plane. Anyway, here are a few photos. The first one is the view from my hotel room. And the third one was just a cool truck that I liked. Honcho!
Last week we tried fractal broccoli, a.k.a. broccoli Romanesco for the first time. We steamed it & it was sweet & yummy even eaten plain. And it's aesthetically pleasing:
I also need to say that if you haven't ventured to the farmer's market & picked up some apples from the crotchety old "we-reserve-the-right-to-refuse-service-to-anyone-who-bruises-our-apples" couple, you need to do that as soon as possible. It's worth the standing in line for 10 minutes.
Some of you already know that Kevin has been reading a lot of Freud these days in preparation for writing one of his chapters. So naturally he's getting excited about dream analysis just at a time when I've been coming up with some crazy shit while I'm sleeping. For instance:
1. We're at my Mom's house in NY and Kevin is enormously pregnant with our firstborn. It's beautiful - reminiscent of those expectant wim in Egalia's Daughters, he's glowing, strong, upbeat, and frighteningly calm. Kevin decides that it's time, and gives himself a C-section. He presents our son, and we both cry. Then I realize that the child needs to eat, and since Kevin has no breasts, that one is my responsibility. I start searching frantically for my sister's copy of What to Expect.. to see if it will tell me how to nurse. Thankfully the dream ended shortly after that point.
2. I'm walking along a mountainy beach with a bunch of people I supposedly know, when a giant robot-thing starts to attack the area. I run into a cave in one of the rock formations, but something explodes nearby and I am slowly buried in gravel. Despite struggling, I can't seem to get out. I fall into an opening where a sage of some sort gives me some herbs to chew on, and a giant wasp appears and begins to chase me. (Ok, despite Kevin's immediate attempt at psychoanalysis upon my relation of this dream, we soon realized that it is directly related to an episode of Babylon 5 that Kevin made me watch, in conjunction with an episode of Bones that I had watched voluntarily. I had warned him during the B-5 episode that I was going to dream about it that night, which I did).
3. In short, a horrible nightmare that ends with me angrily, but inadvertently injuring the cat we had when I was growing up. This was related to my anxiety about bringing Billie to the dermatologist today for an allergy screening, for which she was anesthetized. When the doctor saw the state of her skin after shaving some fur, she decided to biopsy several areas. Billie came home a half-shaven, polka-dotted, holey, stitched-up, groggy mess. She alarmingly resembled the beat-up old cat in my nightmare.
Ok, so we're not in short supply of silly pictures of Kevin lately, but I can't help myself. Here he is trying on the cardigan I knit for my sister's child-to-be. And I don't really know what's going on in the other one, but we were playing a board game.
Yesterday I went sailing around Lake Mendota with a coworker. Surprisingly, you can sail around to different places for a good 3-4 hours and it's still really fun... especially if it's windy, and even more so if you're allowed to steer the boat.
Also, a while back I'd meant to post about a movie we'd watched called The American Astronaut. It's not a well-known movie, and it was made back in 2001, but it was so good. It's my new favorite movie. Filmed in black and white, it is a space western rock-opera with a very odd, confusing plot. I had a hard time figuring out what the hell was going on most of the time... but overall I was really entertained.
Often when I go to software conferences I get asked why there aren't more women in Computer Science. Knowing only my own reasons for following this path, I never really know what to say, though it's at that point that I appreciate the remarkably short line for the ladies' room for some reason.
But when I read something like this article it makes me cringe more than a little. I can't imagine that a woman's low confidence level when using a piece of software is anything more than a symptom of the real problem. It's not the cause. It can't be the cause. At least, no more than it's the cause of me shying away from, say, literary theory. The real cause is unfamiliarity, and it all goes back to childhood in the case of computer software.
Most of my female friends growing up did not play video games, program the VCR, or take stuff apart and put it back together. Most of my brother's friends did. If I hadn't been so busy trying to compete with my brother, I probably would cower at the term 'debug' as much as the next woman. But I was curious about how stuff worked, so I followed my brother around, and I followed my Dad around. I started to play the Atari games, and when my Dad finally bought a computer, I was ready for more. Luckily there was a computer club at my elementary school, and a very decent typing program. And then came the shining moment when my high school guidance counselor revealed to me that if I really enjoyed spending time messing around on our home computer, I could by all means do that for a living.
But back to my point. I can't believe that the solution lies in software redesigned for people who don't know what the right-side mouse button is for, or coaching young girls to understand Computer Science's practical applications to topics (like media!) that they would be more interested in. I decided at the last conference I attended that the solution lies at home. The inquiring men at these conferences need to go home and show their daughters what they're doing - on their computers, under the hood of the car, inside the toilet tank - how it works, why it works / doesn't work. Confidence needs to be built by early experience, not by over-designed software.
Ahoy! My day was generally crap until I took a glance at today's wikipedia notes and saw that today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day! A quick message to select members of my department, along with a link: http://www.piratequiz.com, and my day was crap no longer! I, Cap'n Jenny Flint, care nothing for long meetings, slow applications, or broken server communication links! Aye, methinks my crew could benefit from ITLAP Week...
Today at work I was standing next to my third-floor window, talking to my cube-neighbor when there was a sudden thump on the glass. A window sponge had been lifted up on a 3-story long handle and was scrubbing away the grime. It was then followed by a similarly long-handled squeegee that scraped away all the suds. We were surprised because they've always sent up a guy on a ladder, so we were used to seeing a person attached to the sponge /squeegee combo. This morning the cleaning equipment seemed disembodied, almost as if they were wiping the windows on their own. Like they were right out of the animated furniture-servants in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Very odd.
I realized after this weekend's thirty-something degree weather that neither my gloves nor my mittens will last through the winter, so I'm knitting a new pair of combo glove-mittens. They're going to be awesome. Pictures to follow. In the meanwhile, the Fall issue of Knitty is published, and I found a really cool website from one of its contributors. She makes knit toys like this, & posts free toy patterns:
I typically don't go for this sort of thing, but I found this inexplicably entertaining. My favorites are the iPhone and Spam & Eggs. I'm sure the approaching autumn will bring some more thoughtful ramblings than my recent "hey, look at this!" posts, but for now it will suffice.
Well, I guess summer is just about over. It's been busy. To sum up, I went to NY for a few days, I started taking piano lessons, work has been crazy, and I made a cardigan for my sister's soon-to-be first child. I forgot to take a picture before I sent it to her (the sweater, not the child). I bought the first two seasons of Veronica Mars on DVD, which was an awesome TV show. At some point, my computer crashed and I rebuilt it. And Kevin & I started exploring the possibility of getting married sometime this decade.
It took me a good 15 minutes of wandering around in Borders to find the wedding books. I thought I was stumped, but once I stopped to think, I realized that it was visual recognition rather than logic that was going to help me locate the appropriate section. I peered around for pink and white books, and found several shelves of them next to some etiquette guides with titles like How to Be a Lady. I'm generally not nervous at the thought of planning our wedding, but in that single moment it hit me pretty hard. My stomach turned as I flipped through $40 frilly, pink binders that ironically promised wedding savings for the bride on a budget. Luckily I found a couple of books that seemed to be based in reality. The panicky feelings passed and they haven't yet returned. Really, we still have almost two years before the big day.
I guess that's all I can manage for now, but here's a video of Billie going into the closet for a snack right out of the bag. Evidently she can no longer suffer this concept of mealtime and has taken matters into her own paws.
There were a bunch of strong thunderstorms last night, and I didn't sleep much. I noticed Olivia acting more perplexed than usual while watching the birds out on the balcony, so I went over to the sliding door and found this:
It's about six inches long from head to tail. I guess we have to do something with it before it starts to smell. Too big for the toilet, though... it'll have to go in the garbage. I have more to blog about, but things have been kind of crazy. This morning just follows suit.
Tonight we went out for dinner at a restaurant across the street where I ordered a yak burger. It was made of yak meat, which I'd never tried before. But more notably, the meat was from a Wisconsin breeder called the Green Bay Yakkers. It was quite tasty and very well seasoned.
There's a woman at work who sits in my wing, but who is part of another department. I've worked with her briefly once or twice. She's always nice, but has sort of an urgently distracted air about her - one that seems to go along with being a project leader or supervisor. So she never would stop to chat or anything when I'd say hello, but I sort of admired her for it. Always importantly busy.
The day we were leaving for Texas I was heading out of work early. She was walking downstairs behind me and was suddenly compelled to strike up a conversation... about the size of my waist. Now she's probably in her late 30's to early 40's, and I always thought she was perfectly attractive for someone who worked a full-time, sedentary office job. But for some reason my waist bothered her. "You're so tiny! Every time I see your waist, I think, 'Ahh, I can't look at you!' ", she said that day.
These conversations make me very uncomfortable, though I haven't had to deal with them since my early college years. So I was wholly unprepared to respond and was just able to stop myself from apologizing outright. But all sorts of inadequate responses came pouring into my head as I stammered lamely. I always feel compelled to explain myself, or to act like I know exactly how she feels, though I don't think I've ever consciously resented a woman for being more fit than me, or of a more attractive size / shape.
I don't mean to sound over-confident - I'm very self-conscious and often insecure about how I look when I'm at work. It's just that I've always been a fairly small person who thoroughly enjoys a good tennis game, bike ride, or the occasional jog. I could try to put on more weight, but it would involve not doing things I enjoy and things that make me feel good. I wondered if I should explain to her about my thyroid disorder. I decided instead to complain about how my pants don't fit at the end of the summer from all the bike-riding I do. "Hehe... I guess you just can't win", I simpered. I felt like such an ass, but thankfully she laughed and started talking about baking pies and eating them. I don't think she was really convinced that I could relate on that topic, but maybe if she keeps talking to me she'll discover that I also genuinely enjoy baking and eating pies, and that I'm not starving myself in order to make people feel bad about themselves.
Just before we left for Texas I set my bike down on top of my inexpensive sunglasses and broke them. So after running my last few errands downtown, I decided to take a peek around for a new pair and perhaps stop for some ice cream. I went into a store called Tiger Lilly 2, where I'd never been before. I was immediately greeted by a very friendly young woman who seemed bored by her empty store. The sunglasses were right in the front, so I explained to her that I already found what I needed. She asked if she could show me the new Dolce & Gabbana's ("I make everyone try them on! Heehee!"). I tried them on to humor her, though they were roughly 3/4 the size of my face. When she told me the price - $250, I explained further that I was just hoping to replace my old four-dollar pair from Target. She said, "Well, we'll be upgrading you to a $12 pair, but I'm SOOOO good at picking out sunglasses for people", so I decided to give her a shot. I'm sure she was being honest with me, but I think her fashion sense was seriously conflicting with my sense of practicality (which generally fills the void where my fashion sense would otherwise be). It was terrible and awkward and I hated everything she made me try on. I tried to explain about the non-mirrored, oval-shaped lenses, the reasonably small size, the plain brownness of the frames. She argued with me that if sunglasses are too small, they make you look "squinty". I wondered how anyone could call me squinty if my eyes were hidden... but I just shrugged my shoulders. Finally she relented, "well, we have another store down the street that has a much bigger selection... ". The other store was to the right; my car was to the left. So I thanked her, told her I'd head over right after I got myself some ice cream, and exited to the left. I got the ice cream and I drove straight to Target, where I bought two $7 pairs of sunglasses. An upgrade, I'll admit, but I'll pay the extra money to retain my dignity and shameless practicality.
I did it again! I smacked my car into a structural component of our underground garage. It was remarkable for several reasons, besides that this is the second time it happened.
First, I can partly blame Kevin for handing me a new cd to listen to on my way out the door this morning. I was in the process of opening it with one hand and reversing out of my spot with the other when I ignored the huge cement post adjacent to my car, steered to the right, and crashed the front driver's side into the post. I was looking behind me, but not glancing to the left as I normally would. Dammit.
Moments later, after checking out my car & hopping back in, I proceeded with caution as I was feeling a bit nervy. Had I not been jerked back to being a careful driver, I would very likely have collided head-on with a woman who came flying through the garage door on my side of the entrance. I slammed on the brakes just in time. You see, much like the last time I banged up my car, there was a service van parked and blocking half the driveway. So it could have been way worse... but isn't that weird?
Third, I recalled a conversation I had first thing this morning when Kevin sleepily tried to convince me to stay in bed a little longer. I told him I needed to get moving so I'd have time to ride my bike to work, when he said "what do you have, a meeting?", and then I realized, yes I did have an early meeting. I had no time to ride my bike to work... but then when I got in, my boss had postponed the meeting anyway. So I can partly blame my boss for the short notice - otherwise I would have ridden my bike to work and kept my car intact. And again, I can partly blame Kevin for reminding me of my early meeting in the first place.
Yesterday morning I was tired because I'd gone to bed kind of late, then got called for work at 5:00 am, then tried to sleep till 6:30 but in waking Kevin, I'd also jump-started his early morning cough, which went on for an hour or so. When I was about to stagger into the shower I happened to look behind me, and noticed that I'd thrown my pajamas in the garbage. I don't remember doing it, and it's not next to my laundry basket or anything. I just threw them away. The day continued mostly in that fashion.
This weekend we saw Spiderman 3. While it wasn't necessarily a good movie, we watched it at the IMAX theater... so it was, at least, real big. We also rented Grizzly Man, which was funny. I went through many levels of discomfort and uneasiness throughout the documentary, but overall I came out with the feeling of having enjoyed a good comedy. Not too bad for a film about a man mauled and eaten by a wild bear.
Look, I started growing stuff again. Since my tomatoes were pretty successful last summer, I've expanded to other pursuits. Besides more tomatoes, there's basil, cilantro, strawberries, and the seedlings are green onions. I've never had anything survive past seedlinghood when I start from scratch, but maybe these will be different. I'm optimistic.
Just in case anyone is interested, tomorrow, May 6th, Wisconsin Public Television is airing four hours of the 1985 miniseries Anne of Green Gables. It starts at 3:00 pm and doesn't stop until 7:00 pm! It's too bad it's not on today, when it's all crappy outside. Whatever. I'll stay in & watch anyway.
Billie's skin has cleared a little since we moved Herman outside. But while we wait for further improvement, I decided to switch to a hypoallergenic litter. Most clumping cat litter contains bentonite, which ends up in the litter dust that gets into the air in your home whenever you scoop. It's a carcinogen, and many cats suffer respiratory allergies from it as well. If I'd realized that before, we would have switched a long time ago... but there it is.
I went with World's Best Cat Litter, which is made out of corn, is flushable, biodegradable, and dust-free. Billie seemed really excited about it when I brought home a 17 lb. bag. She went to work trying to rip the bag open while I cleaned the old stuff out of her box. I appreciated her enthusiasm. But as I found when I filled her box with the new stuff, Billie thinks that the World's Best Cat Litter is actually the World's Best Dietary Supplement. She has yet to make a deposit, but she's been snacking on it since the first pour.
So I brought Olivia in, thinking, if she poops in it, everything will be better. She also thought it was delicious, so I sent her away. Hopefully I won't find any surprises in their food dishes this evening.
Wow, I happened to check back on my earlier posts just now, and found that my blog is one year old today. Yee! Today I brought Billie in for a checkup with her regular doctor, who is awesome. Their clinic just moved to a brand new office and the exam rooms have little shelves staggered across the walls for the cats to jump on. Very clever. But they also have a garbage bin stored under the counter with a Billie-sized hole in the cabinet door to throw things in. While I was filling out forms I turned my head for a couple seconds, then looked up to find Billie - hind legs on a stool, half her body hanging in the hole for the garbage bin. She wasn't impressed by the thoughtfully arranged wall-perches.
I was thinking about jury duty again the other day, and remembered that a couple of the guys on the jury were avid hunters. They both occasionally wore flannel collared shirts with patterns of illustrated game on them. Like, a dark green shirt with little flying ducks, or a maroon shirt with scattered elk wandering across it. I'm not what I'd call a fashion guru or anything. Far from it, in fact. But what statement does one of these shirts make, exactly? "Yes, here are some trendy animals I like to shoot and turn into sausage". What I loved was when one of them would use the term 'harvest' when referring to shooting a creature, bleeding it, and slicing its guts out. Really now, isn't that just fooling yourself? Harvesting sounds like such a non-violent activity to me. "This brown bear frolicking across my gut may compliment the color of my eyes, but he's nothing compared to the fella I harvested last winter". There's something going on here that I just don't understand.
Here's a picture of the intersection in front of my sister's house after the nor' easter hit NY the other day.
So my sitting-with-a-book jury duty quickly turned into hearing-a-murder-trial jury duty, which I found to be unpleasant, but interesting. I learned all about stuff like the physics of blood, how to interpret blood/flesh spatters, how to recognize a revolver, the difference between a semi-automatic and a fully automatic gun, and the general value of cocaine.
I found that if you stare blankly at an idle lawyer during trial, you will be rewarded with a dazzlingly charming smile. I tested it several times on all the lawyers at intervals throughout the presentation of evidence - it never failed.
I also came out with a generally favorable impression of bailiffs (sp?). Since we were there for about a week & 1/2 we decided to have a potluck luncheon to break up the restaurant food monotony. Our bailiff showed up with a homemade smoked pheasant cheese ball with a pecan crust. It was awesome and I was so impressed. On another day he just showed up with a huge fruit plate for us. It was remarkable since he tended to be gruff and grumpy, to the point where several people in the jury would laugh every time he spoke. The deliberation part sucked. It took 17 hours and went straight through the night. I felt ill with all the coffee, soda, and chocolate I drank & ate to stay awake. We got to leave early in the morning to sleep, then had to return for more deliberation. People are damn stubborn sometimes. All in all, I hope I never get picked for a trial again... but I was really excited about going back to my regular job when it was all over.
So this week I have jury duty. And I can't say much about it at the moment, except that since our sunny, 80-degree weather has passed, my morning commute to the capitol square is now accomplished via city bus rather than by bicycle. Kevin very patiently (very patiently!) explained the required bus route to me, and off I went this morning with a dollar and two quarters in hand. Delightfully, the Madison buses play a very peppy recorded announcement of the two cross street names of every stop you pass on your way. At least it's delightful up to a point. I live very close to one Jenifer Street which makes up a part of my route downtown. So for this stretch of the way I had what felt like a very personalized update of my own progress through town. I start hearing
"Jennifer! at Baldwin!"
and
"Jennifer! at Few!"
followed by
"Jennifer! at Ingersoll!"
until I started to feel like yelling something back in the affirmative... some sort of confirmation of the recorded announcements. Thankfully it didn't go on for too long, but on my way home it felt kind of surreal after the tiring day of civic duty. Maybe tomorrow I'll bring some music & headphones.
I found myself humming 'Pop Goes the Weasel' as I was getting ready for work the other morning, and I started to think about it a bit... maybe too much. So now I'm curious. In your head, what is happening to the weasel at the end of the song - when he goes 'pop'? Why would a weasel go 'pop'?
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Did anyone else watch Dancing with the Stars last night? I was completely fascinated by Leila Ali (also a professional boxer). Something about the way she spoke, and was nearly six feet tall, and could crush anyone... but then pulled off the foxtrot with no problem. Wow. If I were to marry a woman, I would marry her.
As of today, our balcony is snow-free! And I found my trowel underneath all the slush. Now I can more efficiently work on re-potting Herman. And there were no major DST issues at work yesterday or today, thankyouverymuch.
On Friday night while I was on the phone chatting with my sister-in-law, I caught Billie trying to snack on Herman's (the Houseplant's) potting soil. On closer inspection I could see that the potting soil had turned somewhat moldy - with a bird-shitty sort of mold, and was at a much lower level in the pot from what I'd remembered it to be.
The people who used to live in our apartment had something of a greenhouse in here, though they had two cats as well who seemed ok. Kevin is convinced there is remnant pollen (and who knows what else!) circulating in our air. So now I have this theory that Billie has been eating moldy potting soil for the last seven months, which could explain her skin condition and potentially the more recent hershey squirts. Part of me hopes it is not that simple an explanation... but most of me would be very relieved if it was.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Today Kevin made me lunch, even though it was his birthday!
Another random event - last weekend I spotted my license plate almost-twin. I was navigating a difficult parking lot when it sort of jumped out at me. Identical but for having two letters switched - the twin ended in JGH, instead of GJH which is mine. I actuallly parked the car and got out to compare because I was almost certain someone had copied my plates. Weird.
I can't say that I'm bored right now, because I am keeping very busy despite the crummy weather. But there's nothing very interesting going on, is all... so not much to write about. In the meanwhile, I thought I'd just start throwing out some random memories as they come to mind. I have this habit of suddenly remembering not-so-significant bits of my life at odd times. It kind of feels like television. And then I say to myself, 'huh', because it's not all that interesting. So while I was getting ready for work this morning...
My freshman-year roommate kept a giant calendar spread out across her desk. She used it to write down every detail of her outfit - every day, in each big square. I noticed, but said nothing. Who was I to judge?
At the end of our orientation week we were sitting in the room of her new pal. The pal was writing some things down in a notebook with a bunch of markers. She would switch colors every few seconds. My roommate took a peek, and happily asked, "you write down what you wear, too?". Sure enough. I asked if they were joking, and they just stared. "How else can you keep track of your outfits, so you don't wear the same thing?", they wondered. And they were close after that, as I found myself with less and less to talk about with either of them. If flannel pajamas could keep me warm enough in the computer lab, why should anyone care if I wore the same pair every day?
Saturday, February 03, 2007
This morning the cats were pretty mellow, so I got out some yarn and they actually played together. We all hung out & it was fun. Don't let the pleasant sunshine fool you... it is 0 degrees in Madison right now. I've also started eating grapefruit again after a long break from it. Yum.
Hillary Clinton is going to run for president. And before she does it, she "will be introducing legislation to make quality, affordable health care available to every child in America". Go ahead - call me naive, but I totally believe her. I'm going to vote for her some day, and she's going to be the president. The world may implode shortly after, but dammit, it's going to happen.
I guess I haven't posted much since before the holidays. It wasn't to bother anyone... but I never have too much to say after visiting family without delving deep into some more involved, emotional topics... or at least without maddening frustration. Not for today, anyway. But to sum up, we went to Tex-ass and I went to see my family in NY. We went to the pediatrician for some vaccines for my niece, and I was crying by the third needle. Met my sister's nutty dog whom she smuggled in from Costa Rica. He'll bite your face when you meet him - it's great! Hung out, shopped, ate good food. We saw The Queen, which was very entertaining.
I took a day off last week to hang out with Kevin, and that was awesome. We went to the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art, walked by the lake, argued, went out to dinner, and finished up at Mother Fool's cafe where Dakota Dave Hull was playing some really old guitars. I'm not much of a guitar person, but as Kevin said Friday, this guy won my heart. He was an older man with a good midwestern-length beard & spectacles, and he wore this crazy black button-down shirt with neon pink, purple and yellow planets all over it. He played ragtime, folk, blues, and a couple oldies, and it was a really cozy setting with only 20 people or so. When it was over he put his guitar down, went to sit on a couch, and clapped with everyone at the empty stage. The whole thing was lovely and everyone was charmed.
With my Christmas money from work I finally had enough to get the dent in my car fixed. Wow, that was from May of last year. I like my rental car though. Compared to driving my minivan, this car makes me feel like a much larger-sized person than I am, and it's kind of thrilling to be so low to the ground when I'm driving. Also since about a year ago, Kevin's ring size decreased by two. And speaking of Kevin, he came home with two lovely silver lamps from JC Penney this afternoon. I really appreciate the lamps... and they really are lovely. Also, here's a baby slender loris - he's in a story on BBC news.
With all the talk lately about the best movies of 2006, I feel the need to bestow my own honorable mention upon the film Shortbus. If you can get past the actors having actual sex of all sorts all over the screen, there's a heartwarming, sentimental story which I found very enjoyable. I may never forget the national anthem scene for as long as I live - I laughed myself to tears. And it culminates with the heroine of the story finally achieving her long-awaited orgasm. What's not to love?
