Accomplishments

[So...yeah. I'm just jumping back in here without much preamble. No promises as to how often I'll be able to blog or catch up on everyone else's blogs--work life balance still isn't very balanced--but I miss it!]

 Things I have accomplished this weekend:

1. Saw a play (I LOVED, I LOST, I MADE SPAGHETTI, adapted from Giulia Melluci's memoir by the super hilarious Jacques Lamarre - if you're in the Hartford, CT area, I recommend it for a good laugh)
2. Bought, like, 15 items of clothing (oh, hello there, TJ Maxx)
3. Bought a rug for my Impossible Living Room Situation*!!
4. Determined I need return said rug.
5. Leveled up like 3 times and knocked off a bunch of quests in Skyrim
6. Cleaned out and re-organized my hair and make up drawers OH MY FREAKING WORD I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
7. Worked on Brilliant Novel.

And there are still many hours left in the day! I still have plans to go grocery shopping, get my nails done and possibly return the rug-that-let-me-down.  

Things Logan has accomplished this weekend:

1. Eat
2. Drink
3. Sleep
4. Sunbathe
5. Look cute
6. Gotten hairs all over my pillow

Clearly time well spent for both of us.  


*I have a loden green couch and periwinkle walls. My husband would not budge on the couch, I would not budge on the wall color. I vowed to make it work. It took 5 years to find an accent chair that pulled the two colors together--which, btw, we spent a small fortune on. Another 5 years later, I still don't have a rug that goes with both the couch and the chair. UGH.

Best. Game. Ever.

Saturday night was Game Night at my brother-in-law's and sister-in-law's house. Some folks rotated between games but I spent the entire night playing Telestrations or, as I like to call it, The Most Hilarious Game of All Time. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. I even got a headache from the laughing. So much fun.

The game comes with a handful of miniature dry erase spiral bound notebooks, dry erase markers, and word cards. Everyone gets a word, which they write on their notebook. They then have 90 seconds to draw the word on the following page, like you would in Pictionary. When time's up, you flip the notebook page over to hide your drawing, pass the notebook to the person on one side of you and receive a notebook in the same condition from the person on the other side of you. The timer starts again and you have to look at the drawing in your newly received notebook, guess what the word is and write it in the notebook. Flip page over, pass notebook. Timer starts again and you now have to draw the word in the notebook. And so on until you get your original notebook back. Sort of like a combination of Pictionary and Operator. You score points if the word at the end matches the word at the beginning (and you can also score points for most creative and most hilarious).

Let me show you why this game is so freaking hilarious. My word: Director.


My (admittedly too complicated) drawing depicting "Director":

A great guess:


A clever depiction of "romantic comedy":



Aaaaaaaaand here's where it really starts to go downhill:

Almond Joy? Ooookay. Let's see how the next person drew that:

Freaking awesome. And the final guess was...?


This is why I love this game. "Director" to "Hula Dancer" in six short steps. :D

This was another favorite from the night. I laughed so hard, I cried:

Seriously. Best game evar.

Welcome to Jersey Shore

So we're at dinner last night on the patio at this decent restaurant in a decent town. Now, the word "decent" can be interpreted a thousand different ways, but for the purposes of this blog post I'm using it to mean "typically drama free and populated by people who are reasonably educated and sober." Anyway: Us. Patio. Dinner.

There are two guys at the table behind us who, not long after we order, are joined by a girl. A few minutes later, another girl joins them. This second girl is wearing a black one piece bathing suit with so many parts of it cut away, it might as well be a two piece, and a teensy tiny aqua colored beach wrap skirt type thing. Please understand, I'm being generous when I apply the word 'skirt' to this piece of material. Oh, and how could I forget? She has fantastically huge matching aqua-colored feather dangle earrings. (I love that everything about this chick requires endless strings of adjectives.)

Eyebrows are raised. But you know what? We're out on the patio, it was a gorgeous day, they'd probably just come from the beach...whatever. The fact that she was in a restaurant in swimwear wasn't really a big deal on its own.

Several minutes later, we start hearing talk of, "Where is Crystal?" Almost immediately, 'Crystal' emerges from the restaurant onto the patio, bursts into tears, and shouts to the table behind us that she just got into a fight in the bathroom "because of you guys" and she just wants to go home.

Let the drama begin.

There is more crying on Crystal's part, lots of cajoling on the table's part to get her to come sit down and calm down. Crystal refuses and is getting louder and more incoherent by the minute. It's fantastic. We are suddenly on Cops or some outdoor patio version of Jerry Springer. Crystal is clearly drunk out of her mind. She is now screaming at her table of friends (who continue to calmly encourage her to come sit down) and kicking/shoving the portable fencing enclosing the patio. Crystal storms off down the street.

Many, many eyebrows are raised.

The non-bathing suit wearing chick whispers an apology to the rest of the patio. The table debates who's going to go get her drunk ass. No one leaves. It's remarkable. It's as if they believe that she'll simply keep walking forever and eventually become Not Their Problem. Like there is some barrier between Crystal and the patio now, like we are all protected.

Ben and I just wait for Act II.

Ten minutes pass. During this time, the table discusses how crazy Crystal is, how drunk she gets, how many times she's tried to get into fights with bathing suit girl, and so on. It is a marvel to listen to.

Crystal returns.

Now she's on a mission. She is going to "KICK THAT GIRL'S ASS." She breaches the patio and rushes the restaurant door. One of the guys at the table, "Joe," finally gets up and chases after her. The next time I see them, Joe is carrying Crystal fireman-style over his shoulder while her drunk ass brain tries to catch up to what the hell has just happened to her.

Over the next thirty minutes--THIRTY MINUTES--bathing suit girl shouts into her cell phone at Joe while he tries to get Crystal into a cab. Apparently it never occurs to her to simply stand up and walk around to the front of the building. "NO, SHE CAN'T GO TO MY MOTHER'S HOUSE! IT'S JIMMY'S BIRTHDAY TODAY. THE DOG. SHE'S GIVING HIM A PARTY. MY MOTHER WILL FUH-REAK IF SHE SHOWS UP THERE. NO! SEND HER TO WINDSOR. WIIIN. SOOOOR. DID YOU JUST FUCKING HEAR ME? SHE CAN'T GO TO MY MOTHER'S HOUSE! JUST SEND HER TO FUCKING WINDSOR. JUST PUT HER ON....CRYSTAL? BABY? YOU GOTTA TRY TO BE A LITTLE SOBER RIGHT NOW, OKAY?" And so on and so forth.

Finally, Ben leans across the table and whispers to me, "I've never see Jersey Shore, but I'm pretty sure this is what it's like."

California vacay recap, in which Very Special Things happen

I am back from CA! We had a lovely, restful vacation in Palm Springs and, despite my misgivings, I LOVED the desert. More importantly, my sinuses loved the desert. I've been back in CT for 3 1/2 days and I've had 2 megrims and 1 killer sinus headache already. (Those are migraines for those of you who don't speak Ye Olde Englishe.)

On Sunday, we had a lovely barbecue with our friends Peter, Bill and Jason, who happen to have a vacation home in Palm Springs. I hadn't seen them in over a year and it was great to catch up. Bill volunteers at the San Diego Wild Animal Park (he's a cheetah expert posted by the cheetah habitat to answer any questions visitors may have).

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE VERY SPECIAL THING THAT HAPPENED!

Oh em gee, people. The Wild Animal Park is a phenomenal facility and you should all visit it someday if you can. It's unbelievable. The animals are in these amazing, enormous habitats that both allow visitors to observe them and allow them to exist in an environment that's very close to their natural habitat. They're given privacy. Natural barriers are used wherever possible instead of cages and fencing. It's just freaking amazing.

One of the coolest exhibits they have is this open area that mimics the Serengeti (or whatever)--many different types of animals co-exist in the same enclosure as they would naturally. Rhinos, giraffes, cape buffalos, gazelles, zebras, etc. with a watering hole and native vegetation and OH MY GOD IT'S SO AMAZING.

And...

For some extra money...

You can do this:



That's Willow. She's eating Acacia leaves (not my hand). But that's not all, people. Oh-ho-ho no, it's not. Because I also did this:



!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT IS A PICTURE OF ME FEEDING A GREATER ONE HORNED RHINO. !!!!!!!!!!!!!

*dies of teh excitement*

Dudes. We freaking fed two giraffes, Willow and Kizzy, and Kaia the rhino. Like, WITH OUR HANDS. I touched a rhino. I! Touched! A! Rhino! I gave her apples! I petted her nose! I touched her funny wiggly lip! I saw her baby tusks! I watched her wet nostrils sniffing around the slats for more snackies when there were no more!

I am in love.

I have to say that the giraffes were hilarious and adorable as well. I shall now torture you with more pictures:

Ben wanted a kiss from the cute widdle giwaffe (whose head weighs almost half of my entire body weight).


Check out the tongue action! It's a little hard to see because her purple tongue is blending in with Ben's shirt but it's curled around the acacia leaf!


bebbeh!!



Honestly, I could bring Blogger to a screeching halt with all the freaking adorable pictures and video I have. I suppose this will do...for now. ;)

We had a few more adventures but it's getting late and I've got to get to bed. More updates to follow!

I am not dead!

Or wounded! Or in a mental institution, etc., etc., as certain very very kind and wonderful persons may have worried, thus prompting them to PM me.

Let's get caught up, shall we?

> My Day Job is still a hot mess. Pro: Not working a zillion hours at the moment. Con: Job-related stress is off-setting the "return" of "work-life balance."

> Revisions are progressing. Vewy, vewy slooooowly. They are challenging and frustrating and tiring, which hopefully means I'm doing them right. I just finished combining some scenes (thanks to a BRILLIANT suggestion from Sandy Williams!), which had a large trickle-down effect on some other scenes. Up next: rewriting the beginning for the third time (!@&#^$!!!) and changing where Megan lives for the third time. Which seems like no big deal but is, in fact, a very big deal.

> I went camping this past weekend! Outside! In the forest! With a tent! I saw moose poop! I cooked dinner in foil! I broke down a tent in the rain! My dog slept on my pillow, sometimes sort of on my face! I ate smores! It was an exciting adventure, involving many exclamation points! There was one incident with a malfunctioning propane cylinder, but Ben recovered quickly enough to mourn the fact that he didn't gain any superpowers from having his hand sprayed with propane for an extended period of time. Ah, well. Better luck next time.

> I've also read a few books since we've last chatted. Due to my posting-lameness, I haven't cross posted any reviews but you can find them all on my Goodreads page. (oh em gee, do i heart goodreads)

> Got my house powerwashed. Woo!

> Rekindled my love for sushi (vegetarian, of course) and Corona light.

That about catches us up.

Love and kisses to all!

It's aliiiiiiiiive!

I'm coming out of my self-imposed exile for a brief moment to let you all know that WINTER DID NOT KILL MY TREE!!!





Thanks so much to all of you who provided thoughtful comments, suggestions and encouragement. I also have to give a shout out to my stepfather, who performed the actual surgery.

Hooray!

My broken tree

Today the snow finally melted enough for me to see what the winter did to my Japanese maple: it broke my tree.



I am so sad.

When we first bought the land, there was a great big, old tree right where the Japanese maple is now. It was a wonderful tree. When our architects designed the house and laid it out on our property, I made them design the driveway around the tree. As a result, we have a teardrop-shaped driveway, with a grassy island in the middle of it.

A few years after we moved in, a crazy storm hit our town and we lost a zillion trees. Seriously. I can't remember the actual number now, but it was like 16 or 17. Amazingly, nothing was damaged. Unfortunately, that wonderful tree in the middle of our driveway got snapped off. After we had it taken down and the stump ground down and all that stuff (who knew it was so complicated to have a tree removed!), I planted this Japanese maple.

I have what I lovingly call a black thumb. I kill every plant I touch. I'm not kidding. This is the only plant I've ever owned that has lived more than a few months:



As you can see, it needed to be repotted about a hundred years ago and the leaves are all shrivelly because I hardly ever remember to water it. Honestly, if I wasn't so in love with the pot, I would have put the damn thing out of its misery years ago.

So, when I invested in the Japanese maple, I was very nervous. I followed directions to the letter. I watered it religiously. I carefully tended the soil at its base. It had an abrasion on its trunk that remained "bandaged" (this sort of plastic covering that came from the nursery) until it was fully healed.

It was my triumphant success story.

It grew! It lived! It survived winters! It looked good in the island, next to the giant boulder, even though it wasn't an enormous old tree.

And now the snow has killed it. *crai* So, that's two trees that Mother Nature has brought to a violent end in the spot that I carefully carved my driveway around, for the sole purpose of keeping the trees safe. I'm sure there's a lesson there, perhaps something about letting go and giving in, but I haven't figured it out yet.

Ben and I have always loved stone statues but never had the right place for one in our yard. Maybe now we do...

Double standard

So Ben and I were out to dinner with another couple a few nights ago. Ben nudged me, pointing to the table next to ours, where a girl (11ish?) was reading a book while her parents and little sister chatted and finished dinner.

I was immediately transported back to my own childhood when I had my nose in a book during every spare moment. I felt a little sparkle of kinship and, cheesily enough, pride for the girl. As if *I* had anything to do with the fact that she was reading. I suppose I just considered her one of my "people"--and, let's face it, nine times out of ten it's a Nintendo DS kids are engrossed in at the dinner table these days, not a paperback.

Which brings me to my point: Ben and I HATE--HAAAAAAAATE HATE HATE HATE--it when we see kids playing video games at the dinner table. Bottom line, we've all got to endure things we don't want to and if you can't handle sitting through dinner with your family then how are you going to be able to sit through three hour meetings at your job? Or four hour labs in college? Or whatever. You get the point.

But this girl? Reading a book? I was all, "THAT GIRL IS AWE! SOME! Her parents should be commended! I love it!" When, really, what's the difference?

I mean, I suppose it could have been a homework assignment but let's assume it wasn't (and frankly, she looked like she was waaaaay too engrossed in it for it to be actual "work.") I hate double standards and was quite chagrinned to find myself gleefully engaging in one.

A day in the kitchen

Merry Christmas Eve to those of you who celebrate it!

I've been a bit quiet lately, caught up in a mad rush of Day Job work, last minute gift-buying, birthday celebrations, cooking, present-wrapping, and revisions. Phew! The next few days are going to be crazy but then I have some time off next week. Aaaaaah. :)

Today, though, I'm in the kitchen. My agenda:

> Snickerdoodles
> Gingerbread cookies
> Cherry pie
> Vegetarian stuffing
> Vegetarian gravy
> Quorn roast

So far, I've got the dough for the snickerdoodles made and chilling in the fridge. I can never manage to make cookie dough without getting it all over myself and my kitchen counter. : / I think it's because I don't have a proper mixer, or even a proper mixing bowl (all mine are wide mouthed instead of deep so that the dough just flies off the hand mixer, out of the bowl and all over its surroundings).

I've also read a few chapters of Diana Gabaldon's OUTLANDER, which I've finally gotten around to reading after years of hearing about how fabulous it is. I feel like it got off to a bit of a slow start. Any book about time travel deserves some set up time, though. Now that said time travel event has taken place, I'm really enjoying it.

I'll probably be mostly offline over the next few days as I travel around to various family. Enjoy the holidays!

Progress

Buh-bye, Don't Ask Don't Tell. We won't miss you, not one bit. Yes, you were a gigantic step forward back in your day. Yes, you were groundbreaking, way back when. But our need of you is long over. It's time to move forward once again, this time with no compromises--no "yeah, okay, you can help defend our country but just don't act like yourself while you're doing it."

Up next? Convincing the country that it has bigger priorities than making a stink about two people who love each other getting married.

Huzzah.

I am remembering...

Today, I am remembering all those who died; all those who lived, but whose lives were changed and hearts were broken; all those whose innocence was stolen.

And, this year more than past years, I find myself thinking of all the Muslims and the people of Middle Eastern descent and the people who just look like they're of Middle Eastern descent, who are not terrorists and do not lead lives any different from yours or mine in the ways that matter, but who have been branded ENEMY in one way or another, just the same.

Friday Five

1. My appetite has been endless this week. Why? WHY? I eat and eat and am never full. This sort of thing does not mesh with dieting. *sigh*

2. The end of TLOS is in sight. I'd like to have a count of scenes so I could tick them off one by one and pretend I had any control over this story. Ha. HA HA HA. (<--- this is not actually funny at all.) But for now, it's enough to feel as though there is a horizon and I am moving towards it.

3. My print of this arrived this week. Oooooooh I lovelovelove it. Once it's framed, it'll be going on my bedroom wall.

4. I'm reading my first David Sedaris book (WHEN YOU ARE ENGULFED IN FLAMES). Damn, it's funny and well written. Why did I wait so long? Also, thank goodness I'm not writing humorous memoirish essays because I would SO be emulating his voice. All my in-brain narration of my daily life has been Sedaris-style for the past few days. Amusing, but unoriginal.

5. I have eaten ungodly amounts of fake bacon today. Mmmm. Facon. nom nom nom (see #1)

Ben Gems

During dinner tonight:

Ben: *dramatically straightening his back* My posture has been terrible lately.
Me: O.o
Ben: What? It has.
Me: Don't crane your neck out. *imitates* You look like an ostrich.
Ben: I am an ostrich! My neck is fucked up! I have scoliosis!
Me: *snorts, goes back to eating*
Ben: *pauses* I'm also knock-kneed.
Me: *chokes on potato*
Ben: What? I am. It makes it harder to run.
Me: *drops fork*
Ben: I don't know why you're laughing.
Me: *abandons all pretense of getting laughter under control*
Ben: I can't believe you haven't noticed. We've been married for almost eleven years.
Me: *crying with laughter* You are not knock-kneed.
Ben: *leaps out of chair* See?! *stabs finger at knee cap* That's what knock-kneed is! When the knee cap turns in to the center! Look! *bends leg at knee* They angle out to the side. I AM KNOCK-KNEED.
Me: *pulls up Wikipedia entry for knock-kneed*
Ben: ... Oh. Well I guess not, like, officially...

Several minutes later, What A Fool Believes by The Doobie Brothers comes up in my playlist*, which I have blasting in the kitchen.
Me: *cranks up the volume, boogies down*
Ben: Is this Al Green?







*I know, a rare non-Breaking Benjamin, non-Last Samurai score moment. Don't worry though, a BB song came on right after The Doobie Brothers. ;)

Into the rabbit hole, again and again

I came here to post about a strangely moving image I saw today and got waylaid by another moving image. How curious.

I've been in a particular mood lately: deeply immersed in my writing self and therefore very sensitive to everything going on within and around me. I love these periods of my life but they're intense and difficult to take in long stretches. They also make me want to search for new icons. I can't exactly explain why, but I love expressing myself through my LJ icons. When I'm in moods like this, I love the icons to mirror whatever I'm feeling inside. So, my icon hunt brought me to (natch), where I found some icons based on the art of Ken Wong.

And then I found this.

Ooh I want that so bad. I want it as an icon. As a print on my wall. As a sandwich board sign to wear for the next several weeks. As the cover to this book I'm writing. Want. Want. Want. I may have to email Mr. Wong to see if a print can be made available, despite his professed loathing of email. *covets*

Back to the original image. You know how sometimes sidewalks just...end? Like, they needed a sidewalk for a while, but then they didn't anymore so it just stops, completely abruptly, and the end is surrounded by grass again or whatever? Well, I was driving back from the grocery store this evening, and I saw a young girl, maybe late teens, wearing a backpack and pulling another bag just standing at the end of one of those dead-ended sidewalks. Just...standing there, staring at the end of the sidewalk, as if it was a path of stones through a sea of lava and now that it had ended, she had no idea what to do next.

I drove by pretty slowly--it wasn't that I just caught a glimpse of her at the precise moment she'd paused or happened to look down or something. This girl was just standing there, waiting for I don't know what. I guess, waiting for the next section of her path to reveal itself.

It was quite profound. And sad. And a little cheesy, in that crap-they'd-put-this-on-a-motivational-poster kind of way, even though it was happening in real life.

Welp, back to my girl and my warlord.

ETA: Srsly, ppl. Would you look at this?? The image, the title... I think this will have to be in my house somewhere. *nods*

Love and let love and the world will be a better place

THIS. A thousand times, this: Federal judge overturns CA ban on same sex marriage

Planning some new ink

So I totally have tattoo fever.

I'm waiting to hear back on an appointment with amazing artist Kelly Doty to get a phoenix done on my calf. I've wanted a phoenix tat for a couple of years now and have finally decided to bite the bullet. I've spent a zillion hours online, looking at pictures of other people's phoenix tattoos and phoenix artwork and tattoo artist galleries and just generally overdosing on tattoo stuff. It's been so fun.

My only decision now is whether to do full color or black with some color accents. Ideally, I'd like to do the latter. I have four other tats and they're all black work, which is what I typically prefer. But I just can't see having a phoenix without some color on it. It just wouldn't be right. At the same time, I'm not sure I'm ready to have a decent sized full color piece. Though, if I'm going to do color, I totally trust Kelly to make it look like art and not a cartoon sticker or rough, blocky coloring. Her blending and shading is freaking amazing.

So, yeah. Tattoo fever. How about you guys? I know several of you have ink. Care to share? Pics?

Gina Barreca story

A comment made on the how-do-you-treat-your-books post reminded me of a little story. I may have told it here before—probably on the same stupid post I couldn’t find the other day. But anyway, here it is again.

I spent some of my college years at the University of Connecticut, taking Lit classes with Dr. Regina Barreca. Gina was my favorite professor. In five years of college*, hers was the only early morning class that regularly had full attendance. She was engaging and dynamic, and really, really funny. We laughed just as much as we learned in her classes. I was fortunate enough to do an independent study with her, and I still find myself revisiting the things she taught me as I read and, especially, as I write. In short: I <3 her.

/gushing

So, anyway. One day, she was telling us about how different she and her husband were as readers. She said that they used to share books, but that her husband was HORRIFIED at her coarse! treatment! of the Sacred Objects, so they began their own separate libraries.

At first, I thought perhaps her husband was overreacting. I mean, yeah, I folded over page corners and wrote in my books. Like Gina, I ate and drank while reading, and sometimes you could tell. But, like Gina, I thought it was a testament to the quality of the story—if you couldn’t bear to part with the book for even a moment to take a sip of coffee, well that must be one damn good book.

Then she gave an example of her “practical” approach to reading and I understood.

One time, she was in the middle of reading a huge book when she had to take a trip. So, rather than lug the gigantic, weighty tome around in her carry on—and really, why should she when she only needed half of it?—she simply ripped the book in two and brought the second half with her.

Heh. See, that makes me grin. It’s sassy. I like it. I know it wasn’t a sign of disrespect to the book and that it won’t stop her from re-reading it in the future.

But I also know that some of you are probably shrieking at your monitors right now. ;)


*Shut up. I changed my major mid-stream.

Finding the time

I've had WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much wine tonight, so it's better to just point you to this very important message from Anne Lamott (via Kaz). Please read and take to heart.

<3,
me.

Weekend roundup: the numbers

Glasses of wine consumed: 3 (see how I start with the important things?)
Pages of ON WRITING read: 5
Mothers taken out to dinner: 1
Mothers phoned: 2
Number of times nephew balanced a coaster on his head: dozens (impressive for a just-over-one year old, no?)
Hours between eating asparagus and having the asparagus pee: 2
Hotels and hotel-like-places booked in Japan: 4
Tripadvisor.com reviews read: 3 gorgonzillion (+/- 1 gorgonzillion... I may have lost count towards the end)
Potential fraud alerts received from credit card: 2 (no, darlings, that was 31,500 YEN not dollars but thanks so much for checking)
Contortionists watched: 1 (no, ppl, this was not at home thankyouverymuch)
Boxes of seltzer thrown from the shopping cart when husband wheeled around a corner at the grocery store: 1

Number of words written: 0 *crai*

Calling all vegans

Are there any vegans who read my blog? I'm looking for a vegan cookbook that has easy to prepare, non-fancy recipes. Perhaps converted traditional non-vegan recipes? Is that too much to hope for? *despairs*

I've been a vegetarian for ten years but had to give up dairy in the last year. My husband, who is a somewhat picky eater, still eats meat (though not at home, because I won't cook it and he doesn't know how to cook). Yanking dairy from my diet also cleared out most of my staple meals. I flounder with meal planning every week now and have grown to hate cooking.

Can anyone recommend a cookbook? Again, I'm looking for something that has easy to prepare recipes that will appeal to a somewhat picky non-vegan, too. :) I know, I'm asking for the world.

HELP!