Oh, Monday. Why are you so persistent? It's like every seven days, or something. What is that about? You're there and you will not be ignored. It's not even like my Monday was a bad one. We had sunshine and a reasonable workload and reduced-fat banana dulce de leche coffee cake at Starbucks. All good things, right? It's just that I had such a good weekend. Monday is not the weekend. It's a bit disorienting.
On Saturday, the (super-fantastic!) Internet friend Glenna came to visit all the way from Canada (via a conference in San Francisco), and we whisked ourselves off to Napa for a rainy afternoon of wine-tasting and yarn-ogling, which in my opinion is a fairly excellent way to spend a spring day. We stopped through V. Sattui, which is one of my favorite wineries, but I'm now realizing that I mostly love them for their hardcore deli and their pretty picnic grounds. Maybe it's because they skipped out on the Chardonnay/Sauvignon Blanc region of the wine spectrum? I was less impressed than usual by their crowded tasting room and their "herbal" Semillon. After, we headed to Rombauer, which is a ways off the beaten path and makes my friend Erin's favorite Chardonnay. It was a completely different crowd, a testament to what happens when you move off Highway 29 and raise the price per bottle by $30--far fewer Reeboks, we'll say. And some darn tasty Chardonnay, truth be told.
We spent our evening in a vortex of homebody fangirl bliss, surrounded by pasta, Hershey kisses, something to drink, knitting, and a mini-marathon of Bones, which is not a bastion of excellent twenty-first-century television, but it's sort of engaging anyway. We were productive. We watched and knitted and discussed, and then promptly passed out in our beds after a day well spent.
And I can barely even talk about Sunday. My mother will think I had some kind of temporary illness, really. After Glenna left, I did the dishes. Doing the dishes turned into cleaning out my ridiculously full shirt drawer. Cleaning out the shirt drawer turned into weeding through the bedroom closet. Weeding through the bedroom closet became a full-fledged assault on the coat closet, which--I kid you not--was mostly taken up by a box I hadn't unpacked after moving into my apartment nearly two years ago. I filled three garbage bags and an ancient suitcase with my (former) stuff, packed them all into my car, and drove them to the Goodwill on International Blvd. I'm telling you, it's a miracle. I can see the floors of both of my closets. There are shelves I didn't know I had, people! Book space! Brilliant, this cleaning-out thing. Who knew?
Anyway. Tomorrow is Tuesday, which will probably be less of a shock than Monday. Right? Right.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Photo op!
Those playing the home game may have noticed (ha, right?) that April 12 came and went without a single photo or link to Chad Darnell or his 12 of 12 project. I was so good, too: I put my camera on the nightstand before bed on the 11th, carried out my photography duties until approximately noon, when things got crazy and I just plain stopped. But in the interest of continuing my twelve-month photo series of myself in the early morning, I can't ignore this photo's pleading. It must be posted. It cannot be stopped.
So here:
Charming, no? I'm still in flannel sheets, too.
So here:
Charming, no? I'm still in flannel sheets, too.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
"You've got to listen to this one song. It'll change your life!"
I got to do something last night that I think everyone should do at least once: I saw my favorite band live. I'm not sure I know exactly how the Shins became the band for me--their song "Know Your Onion!" is on the old Gilmore Girls soundtrack, I guess, and then "Caring is Creepy" and "New Slang" showed up in Garden State, and I went home and downloaded the whole album. It was the first thing I ever bought on iTunes, and it took all afternoon because I had dial-up.
It was so worth it--Oh, Inverted World is still the single most-listened-to album I own. I've listened to it so many times that I don't even hear it anymore, except that at the same time, I sometimes rewind songs to hear them again--mostly the last two, "Pressed in a Book" and "The Past and Pending," which I swear makes my heart rate and blood pressure drop every time I hear it. I like to listen to "New Slang" when I'm far away from home, because it's the most comforting song in the world, but it's also good for driving with the windows down at night in the summer. Or for walking in the afternoon in the fall, come to think of it. I don't know how their songs can be airy and murky and springy, all at the same time, but they are. The whole album just seems like a series of perfect musical moments to me, like I keep thinking, "there is nothing else in the world that would go better in that spot in that song. It's just right the way it is." And so I keep listening to it, and it becomes even more ingrained.
The Shins have put out two albums since then, Chutes Too Narrow and the brand-new Wincing the Night Away, which I think is poised to someday knock Oh, Inverted World off its throne, once it's all worn in and comfortable. It's a wonderful album--sort of atmospheric, but also perfectly, head-boppingly bouncy at the same time, and every single song is good. We'll see where that album and I go together, and maybe I'll write about it more specifically someday.
So, the Shins. Live and in the flesh! What to say about the show itself? I went to see them because I wanted to see them, and not because I thought they'd be an especially great live show. And that's about right--they were a fine show, a good show, but it's not like they're super exhibitionists, or anything. They mostly just come up, play, bounce around a little, and call it a night. It's just that the music is so good, you know? James Mercer must weigh about 130 pounds soaking wet, and he mumbles less live than on the albums. His falsetto is a little scary in real life. There's also have a sort of adorable bass player/second vocalist, and a guitarist who obviously plays Guitar Hero waaay too much, and the requisite all-instrument guy that looks like Richie from The Royal Tenenbaums. They started with "Sleeping Lessons" and ended with "So Says I," and hit most of the high points along the way--just about exactly what you'd expect. It was just a show, not that different from any other show I've been to, but I'm so happy that I got to go and listen.
It was so worth it--Oh, Inverted World is still the single most-listened-to album I own. I've listened to it so many times that I don't even hear it anymore, except that at the same time, I sometimes rewind songs to hear them again--mostly the last two, "Pressed in a Book" and "The Past and Pending," which I swear makes my heart rate and blood pressure drop every time I hear it. I like to listen to "New Slang" when I'm far away from home, because it's the most comforting song in the world, but it's also good for driving with the windows down at night in the summer. Or for walking in the afternoon in the fall, come to think of it. I don't know how their songs can be airy and murky and springy, all at the same time, but they are. The whole album just seems like a series of perfect musical moments to me, like I keep thinking, "there is nothing else in the world that would go better in that spot in that song. It's just right the way it is." And so I keep listening to it, and it becomes even more ingrained.
The Shins have put out two albums since then, Chutes Too Narrow and the brand-new Wincing the Night Away, which I think is poised to someday knock Oh, Inverted World off its throne, once it's all worn in and comfortable. It's a wonderful album--sort of atmospheric, but also perfectly, head-boppingly bouncy at the same time, and every single song is good. We'll see where that album and I go together, and maybe I'll write about it more specifically someday.
So, the Shins. Live and in the flesh! What to say about the show itself? I went to see them because I wanted to see them, and not because I thought they'd be an especially great live show. And that's about right--they were a fine show, a good show, but it's not like they're super exhibitionists, or anything. They mostly just come up, play, bounce around a little, and call it a night. It's just that the music is so good, you know? James Mercer must weigh about 130 pounds soaking wet, and he mumbles less live than on the albums. His falsetto is a little scary in real life. There's also have a sort of adorable bass player/second vocalist, and a guitarist who obviously plays Guitar Hero waaay too much, and the requisite all-instrument guy that looks like Richie from The Royal Tenenbaums. They started with "Sleeping Lessons" and ended with "So Says I," and hit most of the high points along the way--just about exactly what you'd expect. It was just a show, not that different from any other show I've been to, but I'm so happy that I got to go and listen.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
A mini-break means true love
I'm back! (To let you know: I can really shake 'em down.)
But you didn't even know I was gone. I took last Friday and Monday off and drove to L.A. for a quick vacation--just a few days to investigate my friend Kendra's new house and housemates, check some things off my "to do in L.A." list, and just generally get out of town. I have a love/hate relationship with L.A.; I always think that it would be so beautiful if it weren't...itself. Kendra lives in Calabasas, north of L.A. and east of Malibu--out in the sticks, really--and it's pretty there, but I think I'd have to live in L.A. proper. I'd need to be near the beach. And take lots of vacations to places that are not L.A.
Vacation highlight reel:
- The trips down and back were surprisingly painless. I have memories of my last solo drive down "the 5," of listening to Roald Dahl's The Witches on tape and pretty much expecting to die of boredom and muscular atrophy somewhere between Kettleman "City" and Patterson. This time, I packed up with the Creative Screenwriting podcast and a basket of organic strawberries, and probably could have driven forever. Just me and blue sky, hills, tumbleweeds stuck in the fences on the side of the road, a group of actual cowboys on actual horses herding actual cattle, and the inexplicable Indian restaurant in Buttonwillow. The Pull of the Road, and all that. It was nice.
- My new favorite thing: House of Blues Gospel Brunch! Picture miles of soul food buffet and a quartet of church ladies in their church-lady hats and church-lady suits rocking out on stage. I never caught the name of the group, but the woman assured me many times that they were, indeed, legendary. Pretty much the best thing ever. I want to go every week, just for cheese grits and "Holy, Holy, Holy."
- I gave in to temptation and took myself on the Warner Bros. studio tour--I was hoping to see the main theater set for Studio 60, which by all accounts is pretty incredible, and is also unlikely to be around much longer. The bad news is that the set was unavailable; the good news is that it was unavailable because they were filming! The tour guide assured me it would be back on the air around June, which is really all I ask. To make it up to me, the tour guide took us on the "all Gilmore, all the time" tour--we walked around the exteriors of all the Stars Hollow sets and then through the interiors of Lorelai's house and the Dragonfly, which are beautiful and so detailed. Livin' the dream on the front steps of the Crap Shack:
Anyway, it's a fun tour if you like TV and film history and seeing celebrities' parking spaces, which I....do, apparently.
- I took a field trip to the Writers' Guild library in search of a 30 Rock script to look over (and remember with my crystal-clear photoraphic memory? I don't know). They didn't have what I was looking for, but I did have a fine time reading some Newsradio and The Office scripts. I'm now even more convinced that tracking down an actual 30 Rock script would be wise, but I'm not sure how that works--I wonder if NBC would send me one, since it's for educational purposes? Anyway, I also met a very polite old man in a suit and bow tie in the elevator, and I'm convinced he was Milton Berle (dead or alive?), or someone. It was all very writerly, and I had a good time. Is it sad that the writers' union library is like a tourist attraction for me? I can't decide.
So now I'm home and theoretically back in the swing of things, even though my brain is still somewhere on I-5. It'll catch up eventually, I guess.
But you didn't even know I was gone. I took last Friday and Monday off and drove to L.A. for a quick vacation--just a few days to investigate my friend Kendra's new house and housemates, check some things off my "to do in L.A." list, and just generally get out of town. I have a love/hate relationship with L.A.; I always think that it would be so beautiful if it weren't...itself. Kendra lives in Calabasas, north of L.A. and east of Malibu--out in the sticks, really--and it's pretty there, but I think I'd have to live in L.A. proper. I'd need to be near the beach. And take lots of vacations to places that are not L.A.
Vacation highlight reel:
- The trips down and back were surprisingly painless. I have memories of my last solo drive down "the 5," of listening to Roald Dahl's The Witches on tape and pretty much expecting to die of boredom and muscular atrophy somewhere between Kettleman "City" and Patterson. This time, I packed up with the Creative Screenwriting podcast and a basket of organic strawberries, and probably could have driven forever. Just me and blue sky, hills, tumbleweeds stuck in the fences on the side of the road, a group of actual cowboys on actual horses herding actual cattle, and the inexplicable Indian restaurant in Buttonwillow. The Pull of the Road, and all that. It was nice.
- My new favorite thing: House of Blues Gospel Brunch! Picture miles of soul food buffet and a quartet of church ladies in their church-lady hats and church-lady suits rocking out on stage. I never caught the name of the group, but the woman assured me many times that they were, indeed, legendary. Pretty much the best thing ever. I want to go every week, just for cheese grits and "Holy, Holy, Holy."
- I gave in to temptation and took myself on the Warner Bros. studio tour--I was hoping to see the main theater set for Studio 60, which by all accounts is pretty incredible, and is also unlikely to be around much longer. The bad news is that the set was unavailable; the good news is that it was unavailable because they were filming! The tour guide assured me it would be back on the air around June, which is really all I ask. To make it up to me, the tour guide took us on the "all Gilmore, all the time" tour--we walked around the exteriors of all the Stars Hollow sets and then through the interiors of Lorelai's house and the Dragonfly, which are beautiful and so detailed. Livin' the dream on the front steps of the Crap Shack:
Anyway, it's a fun tour if you like TV and film history and seeing celebrities' parking spaces, which I....do, apparently.
- I took a field trip to the Writers' Guild library in search of a 30 Rock script to look over (and remember with my crystal-clear photoraphic memory? I don't know). They didn't have what I was looking for, but I did have a fine time reading some Newsradio and The Office scripts. I'm now even more convinced that tracking down an actual 30 Rock script would be wise, but I'm not sure how that works--I wonder if NBC would send me one, since it's for educational purposes? Anyway, I also met a very polite old man in a suit and bow tie in the elevator, and I'm convinced he was Milton Berle (dead or alive?), or someone. It was all very writerly, and I had a good time. Is it sad that the writers' union library is like a tourist attraction for me? I can't decide.
So now I'm home and theoretically back in the swing of things, even though my brain is still somewhere on I-5. It'll catch up eventually, I guess.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Odds; ends
- I finished Pants 4 yesterday, and couldn't help giving it a little hug as I put it back on the shelf with its buddies. I'm naming it my second-favorite Pants book: not quite as true and honest and heartbreaking as #2, maybe, but still willing to do some heavy lifting character-wise. I loved Tibby and, surprisingly, Bridget--I think the Vreeland family (or what's left of it) is the final frontier for Bee, and I liked the way she finally had to deal with the people she'd left at home all this time. I would have felt good about the outcome of Lena's story either way, I think; I was ready for her to be content by herself, and I liked the ways in which she grew in this book. But I also feel like I can be gracious to Lena and let her have her happy ending, so it's okay. The ending as it currently stands works for me. In short, I'm really impressed with Ann Brashares and what she's done with herself as a writer since the early days of the original Pants book--this final book in the series is so much more complex and mature than I would have expected from her in the beginning. Well played.
- I've now picked up Broken For You, by Stephanie Kallos, which Katie gave me for Christmas with a note that she thought I "really needed to read this book." So far it's pretty readable but also a little heavy-handed and self-consciously quirky in the way that first novels often are. *shrug* I'll reserve judgement.
- The urge to work on my spec script has flagged this week. I think it's related to the lack of TV--not a single one of my shows is on, so my TV is pretty much sitting there silent, taking up space and failing to inspire me with displays of brilliance by people who are writing. So I'm taking this as a break in the belief that my voice will come back soon. In fact, both The Office and 30 Rock come back tonight, so I'm thinking "soon" might actually mean "today." Bonus: 30 Rock has been renewed for a second season, which means it's technically fair game for spec-scripting. Wooot!
- I am not in the mood to write, but I am in the mood to knit, and knit prolifically. I made it through most of the length of Sleeve 1 (10 reps of a six-row cable pattern; increase at row five, twist the cable at row three!) and am getting up to the shoulder shaping. Very exciting! I'm also about to hit the part of the pattern that's full of things I haven't learned about yet, so I'm trying not to read too far ahead, or I get overwhelmed. One new skill at a time, I say, and soon I will have a sweater! Or, actually half of a sweater. I'm having fun with it, but I hope it goes quickly, because I'm dying to wear it.
- Which brings me to my new favorite thing: podcasts! The point of the podcast escaped me for a long time--if a blog is self-indulgence, written and published for all the world to see, do we really need to add the human voice to that?--but now I'm hooked. It's like having a talk-radio station that only talks about what you want them to talk about! My taste in podcasts is typical and typically nerdy: so far, writing and knitting. I like listening to the Creative Screenwriting magazine podcast, in which a vaguely obnoxious host interviews working screenwriters, at work--something about it has that tantalizing "yes, I'm a waitress, but what I really want to do is direct" quality to it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing more inspiring than writers talking about writing, and this principle has gotten me through many a long afternoon of edit entry lately. When I've had it with the self-centeredness of writers, I switch on one of two knitting podcasts: Stash and Burn or Cast On. S&B features two San Francisco knitters talking about...well, knitting. Knitting projects, knitting yarn, knitting stories, knitting road trips, knitting books, knitting jokes. Cast On is a little different in that it's a podcast meant to be heard while knitting, and I've tried to reserve it for that purpose. There's indie music to knit to, a weekly essay on knitting (deeper than you'd think), knitting news (more than you'd think), and a segment in which the podcaster shares the backstory on a sweater she's made. It's a little NPR-ish in its soothingness and its vague more-liberal-than-thou quality, but I find it strangely addicting. Now all I need is a good literature podcast, and I'll be good to go! KLIZ, now broadcasting on a laptop near you!
- That is all, except that today is Maundy Thursday. I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service, and I won't be going this year, either. I am very much looking forward to the Good Friday service at my church tomorrow night, though. Good Friday is such a strange day--something to be *commemorated* but not necessarily *celebrated,* which is a tricky thing, I think. Anyway, I loved the service last year, and this year my choir is performing--we get to hang out in the balcony, behind everyone, and sing a Renaissance-era monks' chant. A capella. In Latin. Not that we're the point of the service, or anything, but we sound GOOD.
- That really is all.
- I've now picked up Broken For You, by Stephanie Kallos, which Katie gave me for Christmas with a note that she thought I "really needed to read this book." So far it's pretty readable but also a little heavy-handed and self-consciously quirky in the way that first novels often are. *shrug* I'll reserve judgement.
- The urge to work on my spec script has flagged this week. I think it's related to the lack of TV--not a single one of my shows is on, so my TV is pretty much sitting there silent, taking up space and failing to inspire me with displays of brilliance by people who are writing. So I'm taking this as a break in the belief that my voice will come back soon. In fact, both The Office and 30 Rock come back tonight, so I'm thinking "soon" might actually mean "today." Bonus: 30 Rock has been renewed for a second season, which means it's technically fair game for spec-scripting. Wooot!
- I am not in the mood to write, but I am in the mood to knit, and knit prolifically. I made it through most of the length of Sleeve 1 (10 reps of a six-row cable pattern; increase at row five, twist the cable at row three!) and am getting up to the shoulder shaping. Very exciting! I'm also about to hit the part of the pattern that's full of things I haven't learned about yet, so I'm trying not to read too far ahead, or I get overwhelmed. One new skill at a time, I say, and soon I will have a sweater! Or, actually half of a sweater. I'm having fun with it, but I hope it goes quickly, because I'm dying to wear it.
- Which brings me to my new favorite thing: podcasts! The point of the podcast escaped me for a long time--if a blog is self-indulgence, written and published for all the world to see, do we really need to add the human voice to that?--but now I'm hooked. It's like having a talk-radio station that only talks about what you want them to talk about! My taste in podcasts is typical and typically nerdy: so far, writing and knitting. I like listening to the Creative Screenwriting magazine podcast, in which a vaguely obnoxious host interviews working screenwriters, at work--something about it has that tantalizing "yes, I'm a waitress, but what I really want to do is direct" quality to it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing more inspiring than writers talking about writing, and this principle has gotten me through many a long afternoon of edit entry lately. When I've had it with the self-centeredness of writers, I switch on one of two knitting podcasts: Stash and Burn or Cast On. S&B features two San Francisco knitters talking about...well, knitting. Knitting projects, knitting yarn, knitting stories, knitting road trips, knitting books, knitting jokes. Cast On is a little different in that it's a podcast meant to be heard while knitting, and I've tried to reserve it for that purpose. There's indie music to knit to, a weekly essay on knitting (deeper than you'd think), knitting news (more than you'd think), and a segment in which the podcaster shares the backstory on a sweater she's made. It's a little NPR-ish in its soothingness and its vague more-liberal-than-thou quality, but I find it strangely addicting. Now all I need is a good literature podcast, and I'll be good to go! KLIZ, now broadcasting on a laptop near you!
- That is all, except that today is Maundy Thursday. I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service, and I won't be going this year, either. I am very much looking forward to the Good Friday service at my church tomorrow night, though. Good Friday is such a strange day--something to be *commemorated* but not necessarily *celebrated,* which is a tricky thing, I think. Anyway, I loved the service last year, and this year my choir is performing--we get to hang out in the balcony, behind everyone, and sing a Renaissance-era monks' chant. A capella. In Latin. Not that we're the point of the service, or anything, but we sound GOOD.
- That really is all.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Attack of the giant papillaries!
So, after one totally unsatisfying visit to the GP (Him: "You have a cyst inside your eyelid. There's nothing you can do. Hope you like your glasses!" Me: "Wrong answer!") and a much more satisfying visit to the optometrist, it seems that I won't need to knit myself a set of decorative eye patches after all. I have giant papillary conjunctivitis--basically a rash on the insides of my eyelids caused by over-wearing of my contacts and possibly an allergic reaction to Target-brand contact solution. I'm banned from wearing contacts for a month, and after that I'll be using better solution and wearing glasses two days a week. That's it.
I'm feeling a little vain and disappointed about the glasses situation, but I am pleased to not have cancer or anything else where they remove my eye, and so I am being grateful and polishing my "I rock the glasses hard" vibe instead. Glasses! Yay!
(And for my mom: Tina Fey, role model to glasses-wearing writer-girls the world over.)
I'm feeling a little vain and disappointed about the glasses situation, but I am pleased to not have cancer or anything else where they remove my eye, and so I am being grateful and polishing my "I rock the glasses hard" vibe instead. Glasses! Yay!
(And for my mom: Tina Fey, role model to glasses-wearing writer-girls the world over.)
Saturday, March 31, 2007
My eyes! My eyes!
I spent an hour at Kaiser this afternoon, only to...not see the doctor. It appears that I have a mysterious bump on my left eyeball. Or maybe it's my eyelid; I can't tell. Neither could the advice nurse (but still, how cool is Kaiser for having advice nurses?). Either way, there's a bump.
The advice nurse told me to come in RIGHT AWAY! DON'T WAIT! I told her my eye didn't hurt, wasn't swollen, and hadn't given off any alarmist propaganda other than having a bump on it. She said 4:20! DOCTOR FONG! CAN YOU GO RIGHT NOW? I could. I did.
The receptionist--who I must say was approximately 14--looked at me like I was crazy, but said, "Um, okay. Why don't you sit here in the reception area, and....I'm sure Dr. Fong will be in any minute?" I sat. I read Forever in Blue (which is turning out to be really good, by the way) until 4:45, until I asked again. "Um, I don't know," she said. "We're about to lock up here? And I kind of don't think Dr. Fong is even here on weekends? So I guess you should go to Emergency and ask them?" On the way to Emergency, I found the place where I was originally intended to go (thanks for clearing that up, Reception! Good on you!), but they had closed out their computers at ten minutes to five, and I was out of luck. Monday morning it is, then.
I'm okay--still no pain, swelling, or propaganda from the eye. I just have to stay away from my contacts until I know what's up. It's a good thing I like my glasses. I believe I will do my best Tina Fey impression tomorrow, and then see how things go from there.
The advice nurse told me to come in RIGHT AWAY! DON'T WAIT! I told her my eye didn't hurt, wasn't swollen, and hadn't given off any alarmist propaganda other than having a bump on it. She said 4:20! DOCTOR FONG! CAN YOU GO RIGHT NOW? I could. I did.
The receptionist--who I must say was approximately 14--looked at me like I was crazy, but said, "Um, okay. Why don't you sit here in the reception area, and....I'm sure Dr. Fong will be in any minute?" I sat. I read Forever in Blue (which is turning out to be really good, by the way) until 4:45, until I asked again. "Um, I don't know," she said. "We're about to lock up here? And I kind of don't think Dr. Fong is even here on weekends? So I guess you should go to Emergency and ask them?" On the way to Emergency, I found the place where I was originally intended to go (thanks for clearing that up, Reception! Good on you!), but they had closed out their computers at ten minutes to five, and I was out of luck. Monday morning it is, then.
I'm okay--still no pain, swelling, or propaganda from the eye. I just have to stay away from my contacts until I know what's up. It's a good thing I like my glasses. I believe I will do my best Tina Fey impression tomorrow, and then see how things go from there.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The plot thickens, right on time
I made some progress on my spec script last night. I sat down and figured out my A-, B-, and C-plots, and actually wrote them down so they wouldn't slip away into the night (which tends to happen). I don't have the endings planned yet, but I'm still immensely relieved. This is the part of the writing process that I'm worst at--I believe they call it "plot." I'm a voice and character girl. I'm good with interpretation. I can mimic other writers. I do finishing touches. It's this making something out of nothing that kills me. It's perpetually like standing on the edge of something very steep and very dark, looking down into a voidy void of voidiness, and thinking I can't turn around, so I have to step out into the nothing. The silence and blankness that overtakes my brain in these moments--anytime I ask myself, "what happens?"--is kind of impressive.
The weird part is that ideas do come, and I believe that I'll never be able to explain how. My mind is completely blank--I picture it as a white room, like in The Matrix, when Neo meets Laurence Fishburne--and then, suddenly, it isn't. I don't know, and then....I know. And I haven't done anything differently, and nothing's changed except that I have an idea. It's always surprising, and always a moment of great relief.
Now that I have ideas worked out, it's time to start outlining. I'm writing 30 Rock--against the common wisdom, since most people don't spec shows in their first season--and I've been making info sheets about the episodes I have saved on my Tivo. I'm looking at act structure, scene structure, timing, act breaks, number of plots per episode, number of scenes per plot, who's in which episodes and how many scenes they appear in, guest characters, overlapping plots...everything I can think of to make my spec as technically similar to the produced show as I can. Now I can start putting that collected knowledge to work in a practical outline. I still need to figure out what happens, exactly, but I think the two sort of go together. I have until April 30 for a WGA-sponsored contest I'm entering (not for a job, but for a cash prize and exposure to agents). It's a little nerve-wracking, but it's amazing how it all comes when I need it, so I'm trying not to worry.
The weird part is that ideas do come, and I believe that I'll never be able to explain how. My mind is completely blank--I picture it as a white room, like in The Matrix, when Neo meets Laurence Fishburne--and then, suddenly, it isn't. I don't know, and then....I know. And I haven't done anything differently, and nothing's changed except that I have an idea. It's always surprising, and always a moment of great relief.
Now that I have ideas worked out, it's time to start outlining. I'm writing 30 Rock--against the common wisdom, since most people don't spec shows in their first season--and I've been making info sheets about the episodes I have saved on my Tivo. I'm looking at act structure, scene structure, timing, act breaks, number of plots per episode, number of scenes per plot, who's in which episodes and how many scenes they appear in, guest characters, overlapping plots...everything I can think of to make my spec as technically similar to the produced show as I can. Now I can start putting that collected knowledge to work in a practical outline. I still need to figure out what happens, exactly, but I think the two sort of go together. I have until April 30 for a WGA-sponsored contest I'm entering (not for a job, but for a cash prize and exposure to agents). It's a little nerve-wracking, but it's amazing how it all comes when I need it, so I'm trying not to worry.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Baby's first cable
I am off and knitting on my first piece of clothing--a cabled shrug (i.e. a cardigan without all that cardigan to worry about) for which I bought yarn last weekend. I have swatched, gone down a needle size, and swatched again. And look!
I decided that getting hopelessly, irreparably tangled up in a swatch was better than having to rip out part of a sweater, so I pulled out my new cable needle, followed the directions in the pattern, and voila! A perfectly good cable, right down the middle. It's amazing how that works. New skill: check!
I decided that getting hopelessly, irreparably tangled up in a swatch was better than having to rip out part of a sweater, so I pulled out my new cable needle, followed the directions in the pattern, and voila! A perfectly good cable, right down the middle. It's amazing how that works. New skill: check!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
I love a man with a sense of humor
I thought my coach was joking when he told us to row for an hour without stopping.
Sixty minutes and 2,880 strokes later, I know: He wasn't.
Sixty minutes and 2,880 strokes later, I know: He wasn't.
Things of which I am a fan
1. My computer, obviously. I still haven't gotten it together to close out the old PC and transfer my files (mostly music and photos, with some writing thrown in for fun), but I did install Word and Excel, which actually feels like a bit of a betrayal to the Mac mindset. Until we're all using InCopy, though, a girl's got to have something on which to process words, no? Anyway, the nameless laptop is light and quiet and seems determined to not be a hassle in any way. It is the Charlie Young of the computer world, if you will. This pleases me. We are friends, my computer and I.
2. The Second Summer of the Sisterhood: I'm re-reading Traveling Pants books two and three in preparation for a first read-through of four, Forever in Blue, which I got for Christmas. For whatever reason, #2 (I hate the title, so I always call it Pants Two) is my favorite by far--the last time I read it, it resonated with me on a level that probably was not strictly normal. This time, I think the moment had passed, but I still love it more than all the rest. It's the darkest of the books, not in a juvenile melodramatic way, but in a "these characters are badly behaved in ways that are totally recognizable" manner. It's the girls generally at their worst, which is always interesting, I think. Also: Carmen dating Porter, the penguin. Hee.
3. Yarn stores: I "stopped by" (read: spent an hour in) the yarn store on the way home from church yesterday, checking out my options for the cabled shrug I want to make. Article Pract is not my favorite yarn shop--it's expensive, carries too many earth tones, and has occasionally obnoxious hipster employees--but it's conveniently located and I had some store credit there, so I spent a good chunk of time wandering around, squeezing yarn and checking gauge and price. Mostly, I think I like doing just that: I don't always buy anything, but petting the yarn and soaking up the knitterly gossip is nice. I ended up getting some yarn-substitution help from the store's owner (this is the key, I think; she was very nice and very helpful), and came away with nine skeins of Rowan's Soft Baby in Cloud. I also found a good yarn candidate for the log-cabin blanket I'm pondering, which I left in the store for the sake of my debit card, but I'm glad to know it's there. Anyway, this means I can start swatching for the shrug, which I think will break my brain, but maybe in a good way.
This weekend I was also a fan of babies, What Not to Wear, corned beef and cabbage, westerns, sleep, black currants, dinner parties, Trader Joe's, running errands with my mom, and mint-chocolate frozen yogurt. Good times, good times.
2. The Second Summer of the Sisterhood: I'm re-reading Traveling Pants books two and three in preparation for a first read-through of four, Forever in Blue, which I got for Christmas. For whatever reason, #2 (I hate the title, so I always call it Pants Two) is my favorite by far--the last time I read it, it resonated with me on a level that probably was not strictly normal. This time, I think the moment had passed, but I still love it more than all the rest. It's the darkest of the books, not in a juvenile melodramatic way, but in a "these characters are badly behaved in ways that are totally recognizable" manner. It's the girls generally at their worst, which is always interesting, I think. Also: Carmen dating Porter, the penguin. Hee.
3. Yarn stores: I "stopped by" (read: spent an hour in) the yarn store on the way home from church yesterday, checking out my options for the cabled shrug I want to make. Article Pract is not my favorite yarn shop--it's expensive, carries too many earth tones, and has occasionally obnoxious hipster employees--but it's conveniently located and I had some store credit there, so I spent a good chunk of time wandering around, squeezing yarn and checking gauge and price. Mostly, I think I like doing just that: I don't always buy anything, but petting the yarn and soaking up the knitterly gossip is nice. I ended up getting some yarn-substitution help from the store's owner (this is the key, I think; she was very nice and very helpful), and came away with nine skeins of Rowan's Soft Baby in Cloud. I also found a good yarn candidate for the log-cabin blanket I'm pondering, which I left in the store for the sake of my debit card, but I'm glad to know it's there. Anyway, this means I can start swatching for the shrug, which I think will break my brain, but maybe in a good way.
This weekend I was also a fan of babies, What Not to Wear, corned beef and cabbage, westerns, sleep, black currants, dinner parties, Trader Joe's, running errands with my mom, and mint-chocolate frozen yogurt. Good times, good times.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
It's a laptop!
It came! It came!
My new laptop arrived a day early!
So far, I've had a chance to take it out of the box(es), look at it admiringly, pet it, talk quietly to it, and read the "Everything Mac" pamphlet that came in the box. Plugging it in, turning it on, and conforming it to my every whim will have to come later. Like tonight.
(And for those playing the home game, I went with the 13-inch. It was on sale. And it has a camera!)
My new laptop arrived a day early!
So far, I've had a chance to take it out of the box(es), look at it admiringly, pet it, talk quietly to it, and read the "Everything Mac" pamphlet that came in the box. Plugging it in, turning it on, and conforming it to my every whim will have to come later. Like tonight.
(And for those playing the home game, I went with the 13-inch. It was on sale. And it has a camera!)
Monday, March 12, 2007
12 of 12: March
Welcome to la 12 of 12, a place where lives are shared and bad pictures are taken (by me, anyway; I can't speak for others).
12:49 p.m. - So, I was already at work when I realized it was the 12th, and I hated to interrupt my yearlong series of photos of myself waking up. So this is my bed, mysteriously devoid of...me. Anyway, though, it was DARK when I got up this morning, so that's another excuse.
12:55 p.m. - The benefits of coming home for lunch: turkey chili and a quick rendezvous with What Not to Wear. Fabulous!
1:07 p.m. - Awww, mail! It's a postcard from my brother, who took a business trip to Gaziantep in southern Turkey (not as exotic as it sounds; he lives in Turkey).
1:11 p.m. - Back to work!
2:36 p.m. - My editor's super-sekrit stash of Holland mints, from which she graciously lets me graze (in exchange for unlimited copying, mailing, and edit entry)
2:36 p.m. - Don't mind if I do!
3:08 p.m. - Shared iTunes is our friend. (That's The Arcade Fire, there. I'm going to see them in June. Woot!)
5:01 p.m. - The interminable light at San Pablo and the freeway gives me plenty of time to bond with NPR ("I'm Melissa Block, and I'm Mechelle Norris, and this is All Things Considered." And doesn't the theme music sound like the goofy song at the end of the animated Grinch movie?).
8:23 p.m. - Sadly, no rowing pictures this month--the sunset was amazing--but almost as good: the post-crew pile on the bathroom floor!
8:44 p.m. - My new thing: pasta with peas. Add a little bit of Parmesan and some salt and pepper, and it's delicious.
9:27 p.m. - This is an actual documentary about the Australian cane toad, lent to me by a coworker for Cinema Hype-ing puposes. That is one scary-looking little girl. The toads themselves are kind of cute.
9:29 p.m. - What to do during an 80s documentary on amphibians than do a little knitting? Almost...done...
Hasta! Next month: Same bat time, same bat channel. I'll try to remember before noon.
12:49 p.m. - So, I was already at work when I realized it was the 12th, and I hated to interrupt my yearlong series of photos of myself waking up. So this is my bed, mysteriously devoid of...me. Anyway, though, it was DARK when I got up this morning, so that's another excuse.
12:55 p.m. - The benefits of coming home for lunch: turkey chili and a quick rendezvous with What Not to Wear. Fabulous!
1:07 p.m. - Awww, mail! It's a postcard from my brother, who took a business trip to Gaziantep in southern Turkey (not as exotic as it sounds; he lives in Turkey).
1:11 p.m. - Back to work!
2:36 p.m. - My editor's super-sekrit stash of Holland mints, from which she graciously lets me graze (in exchange for unlimited copying, mailing, and edit entry)
2:36 p.m. - Don't mind if I do!
3:08 p.m. - Shared iTunes is our friend. (That's The Arcade Fire, there. I'm going to see them in June. Woot!)
5:01 p.m. - The interminable light at San Pablo and the freeway gives me plenty of time to bond with NPR ("I'm Melissa Block, and I'm Mechelle Norris, and this is All Things Considered." And doesn't the theme music sound like the goofy song at the end of the animated Grinch movie?).
8:23 p.m. - Sadly, no rowing pictures this month--the sunset was amazing--but almost as good: the post-crew pile on the bathroom floor!
8:44 p.m. - My new thing: pasta with peas. Add a little bit of Parmesan and some salt and pepper, and it's delicious.
9:27 p.m. - This is an actual documentary about the Australian cane toad, lent to me by a coworker for Cinema Hype-ing puposes. That is one scary-looking little girl. The toads themselves are kind of cute.
9:29 p.m. - What to do during an 80s documentary on amphibians than do a little knitting? Almost...done...
Hasta! Next month: Same bat time, same bat channel. I'll try to remember before noon.
You're going DOWN, Gateway
All right. That's it! My computer has died in the middle of a Cinema Hype post for THE LAST TIME. I need to get a new laptop NOW.
The big question: New 13-inch or refurbished 15-inch? Same price; 4-oz difference in weight; 13-inch comes with built-in camera but, obviously, without those extra two inches of screen space. Hmmm.
In other news, I completely forgot 12 of 12 today, but hope to do a latter-half display anyway. D'oh!
And also, I will be pleased to row in daylight tonight, but this whole plunged-into-darkness thing does not make me want to get out of bed in the morning. Ugh.
The big question: New 13-inch or refurbished 15-inch? Same price; 4-oz difference in weight; 13-inch comes with built-in camera but, obviously, without those extra two inches of screen space. Hmmm.
In other news, I completely forgot 12 of 12 today, but hope to do a latter-half display anyway. D'oh!
And also, I will be pleased to row in daylight tonight, but this whole plunged-into-darkness thing does not make me want to get out of bed in the morning. Ugh.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Welcome to the age of Technicolor
I finished reading Rebecca last night, and in doing so, put an end to my winter Gothic reading binge. No more mansions burning to the ground! No more storms on the moors, or tortured, aloof millionaires! (No more crazy ex-wives? Somehow, that seems to be an enduring theme in literature in general.) I thought of adding Tess of the d'Urbervilles to the roster at the last minute, but I'm told it's not exactly Gothic, and anyway, a girl's got limits.
Rebecca is a wonderful book, but I'll admit that it's better the first time around. I remember being captivated essentially from the first word; this time I found that the first 250 pages or so are kind of...not plotless, exactly, but...subtle, maybe? Extremely psychological? A friend pointed out that this is a novel that could only have been written by a woman, about a woman--the (nameless) heroine spends so much time in her own head, fretting and analyzing and making conclusions and reflecting on herself, that it's both totally recognizable and kind of obnoxious. Anyway, the ending was still suspenseful and satisfying, and Du Maurier does know her way around a red herring. Isn't it about time for a new Rebecca movie? I feel like there's a whole generation that needs to be exposed to this story, and it would all film so beautifully. With Eva Green or maybe Rachel Weisz as Rebecca? Awesome.
Now that I've finished the Gothic list, I'm craving contemporary writing. I've acquired quite a stack of newish books since October, when I started Dracula: there's the newest Traveling Pants book (which must be preceded by a re-read of the previous two, obviously), The Dive From Clausen's Pier, The Double, Life of Pi, Middlesex, The Eyre Affair (does it count as non-Gothic if it's meta-Gothic?),The Best Non-Required Reading 2006 Ed, and probably a few others I'm forgetting. Truthfully, I probably won't make it through that list without at least a dip or two into the classics. Something about recent literary fiction--its sameness, its subtlety, its emphasis on "moment" instead of plot, maybe--makes me a little bit tired; I can't always tell what's good and what's not, and it all kind of seems the same anyway. In the case of Contemporary Fiction Overload, I just bought a beautiful hardcover copy of The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty to keep me sharp, and I have unread George Eliot and Cormac McCarthy waiting for me as well. Basically, I have so many things to read, I may never set foot in the library again.*
For the present, I finally decided on The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger, which I picked because I've heard good things about it and also because I love the name Audrey Niffenegger. It feels so light! I settled into bed with it last night and zipped through the first 40 pages. Forty pages in one sitting! That alone makes me love it (though it's also rather pleasant reading so far).
*Yeah, and the Giants may win the World Series this year.
Rebecca is a wonderful book, but I'll admit that it's better the first time around. I remember being captivated essentially from the first word; this time I found that the first 250 pages or so are kind of...not plotless, exactly, but...subtle, maybe? Extremely psychological? A friend pointed out that this is a novel that could only have been written by a woman, about a woman--the (nameless) heroine spends so much time in her own head, fretting and analyzing and making conclusions and reflecting on herself, that it's both totally recognizable and kind of obnoxious. Anyway, the ending was still suspenseful and satisfying, and Du Maurier does know her way around a red herring. Isn't it about time for a new Rebecca movie? I feel like there's a whole generation that needs to be exposed to this story, and it would all film so beautifully. With Eva Green or maybe Rachel Weisz as Rebecca? Awesome.
Now that I've finished the Gothic list, I'm craving contemporary writing. I've acquired quite a stack of newish books since October, when I started Dracula: there's the newest Traveling Pants book (which must be preceded by a re-read of the previous two, obviously), The Dive From Clausen's Pier, The Double, Life of Pi, Middlesex, The Eyre Affair (does it count as non-Gothic if it's meta-Gothic?),The Best Non-Required Reading 2006 Ed, and probably a few others I'm forgetting. Truthfully, I probably won't make it through that list without at least a dip or two into the classics. Something about recent literary fiction--its sameness, its subtlety, its emphasis on "moment" instead of plot, maybe--makes me a little bit tired; I can't always tell what's good and what's not, and it all kind of seems the same anyway. In the case of Contemporary Fiction Overload, I just bought a beautiful hardcover copy of The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty to keep me sharp, and I have unread George Eliot and Cormac McCarthy waiting for me as well. Basically, I have so many things to read, I may never set foot in the library again.*
For the present, I finally decided on The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger, which I picked because I've heard good things about it and also because I love the name Audrey Niffenegger. It feels so light! I settled into bed with it last night and zipped through the first 40 pages. Forty pages in one sitting! That alone makes me love it (though it's also rather pleasant reading so far).
*Yeah, and the Giants may win the World Series this year.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
How to become friends with your friends
I got a long e-mail from my friend Sue the other day.
Sue and I have known each other since the toddler Sunday school class at First Baptist Vallejo and since then have sometimes been best friends, sometimes best enemies, and sometimes both at the same time. We went together to church, to school, to kids' choir, to adult choir, to play practice, to youth group, to summer camp, to winter camp, to Carson City, to Nebraska, to Disneyland, to anywhere and everywhere. Our families were friends, and we were friends, mostly.
Looking back, I can see that we were two tremendously different people trying to occupy the same space--she's an extrovert and I'm an introvert; she's naturally affectionate and I'm reserved; she wanted to go out and be social (!), and I was happy with a couple of friends and a book. We competed for a lot of things. We were like sisters in the same family--we got along some of the time, but just as often, we didn't. We got into a huge, screaming fight at the Iowa State Fair, right by the butter sculptures, if that says anything.
Thankfully, adulthood has been kind to our friendship. I look at us and see that we're both in the middle of the lives we were meant to have. She lives in Southern California and says it's home to her now. She's on the road to a career she's wanted for a long time, something at which she will, incidentally, be excellent. She's dating a great guy. I'm here in Oakland, fulfilling my destiny as a bookworm extraordinaire, doing my own thing. I love looking at us as junior highers and looking at us now, and seeing that we are just ourselves, only magnified--and somehow, that makes us better friends. Being happy and secure in what we're doing, I think, has made us able to enjoy each other. Turns out that Sue is fun and welcoming and a really great encourager, and she always was those things, but I had a hard time letting her be that way, because it wasn't my way. And I'm so happy that we've gotten over that and can see each other clearly, like we probably always should have.
Sue and I have known each other since the toddler Sunday school class at First Baptist Vallejo and since then have sometimes been best friends, sometimes best enemies, and sometimes both at the same time. We went together to church, to school, to kids' choir, to adult choir, to play practice, to youth group, to summer camp, to winter camp, to Carson City, to Nebraska, to Disneyland, to anywhere and everywhere. Our families were friends, and we were friends, mostly.
Looking back, I can see that we were two tremendously different people trying to occupy the same space--she's an extrovert and I'm an introvert; she's naturally affectionate and I'm reserved; she wanted to go out and be social (!), and I was happy with a couple of friends and a book. We competed for a lot of things. We were like sisters in the same family--we got along some of the time, but just as often, we didn't. We got into a huge, screaming fight at the Iowa State Fair, right by the butter sculptures, if that says anything.
Thankfully, adulthood has been kind to our friendship. I look at us and see that we're both in the middle of the lives we were meant to have. She lives in Southern California and says it's home to her now. She's on the road to a career she's wanted for a long time, something at which she will, incidentally, be excellent. She's dating a great guy. I'm here in Oakland, fulfilling my destiny as a bookworm extraordinaire, doing my own thing. I love looking at us as junior highers and looking at us now, and seeing that we are just ourselves, only magnified--and somehow, that makes us better friends. Being happy and secure in what we're doing, I think, has made us able to enjoy each other. Turns out that Sue is fun and welcoming and a really great encourager, and she always was those things, but I had a hard time letting her be that way, because it wasn't my way. And I'm so happy that we've gotten over that and can see each other clearly, like we probably always should have.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
The Passion of the Sorkin
I think I'm going to write more about writing here from now on. This blog started as a way for me to share what's really going on with me, and these days, pen and paper (or keyboard and screen) have been heavy on my mind. I'm looking at my future, trying to decide where to go and what to do, whether it's best to concentrate on writing my own material or on refining other people's, and why the options seem so limited right now. I'm doing Cinema Hype and preparing to apply for the ABC/Disney Talent Development Fellowship, among other things, trying to stay sharp and make opportunities for myself. There are a lot of words in me, and I think I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the best way to get them out. Anyway. Writing about writing.
My old friends Kendra and Amy came to visit me this weekend; Amy's getting married in June, and we got together to do dress fittings and shoe shopping and stay up late chatting (check; check; double check). It was wonderful to see them both; the three of us spent three summers working and living together, and at the end of the summer it was always like losing a pair of limbs. Kendra stayed with me an extra night, and we spent the time as two unashamed TV fiends do: we curled up on the couch with blankets and mainlined a half-season of Studio 60.
When I watch Aaron Sorkin's shows, I always learn things. He teaches me about voice and timing, about the interplay of comedy and drama, about the importance and appeal of communities in storytelling. But mostly what he teaches me is about passion. Sorkin cares deeply about platonic male friendship; that's why we get Casey and Dan, Danny and Matt, Josh and Sam, and Leo and President Bartlet. We know he cares because the result is always surgically precise and delivered like it's the Gospel itself, and also because he essentially tells the same story over and over, mulling and refining and tinkering with the same basic structure. He never gets tired of talking about it, which is why he always has relevant things to say on the subject. Sorkin is also passionate about baseball, Gilbert and Sullivan, liberal politics, and television, which is why he continually works any combination of those things into his work. He's like a kid showing his parents around at open house(or, more accurately, like Tom Jeter at Studio 60?), always wanting to show off the things that are interesting to him. It shows, the passion. It makes a difference. It's why, at the end of the Studio 60 pilot, I hear "Pressure" and see Matt and Danny walk through the semi-lit theater, and I get butterflies in my stomach. It's why I have to smile when he slips little bits of TV history in around the edges--he can't not. He so wants us to know and care, and so I do. It's inspiring.
My old friends Kendra and Amy came to visit me this weekend; Amy's getting married in June, and we got together to do dress fittings and shoe shopping and stay up late chatting (check; check; double check). It was wonderful to see them both; the three of us spent three summers working and living together, and at the end of the summer it was always like losing a pair of limbs. Kendra stayed with me an extra night, and we spent the time as two unashamed TV fiends do: we curled up on the couch with blankets and mainlined a half-season of Studio 60.
When I watch Aaron Sorkin's shows, I always learn things. He teaches me about voice and timing, about the interplay of comedy and drama, about the importance and appeal of communities in storytelling. But mostly what he teaches me is about passion. Sorkin cares deeply about platonic male friendship; that's why we get Casey and Dan, Danny and Matt, Josh and Sam, and Leo and President Bartlet. We know he cares because the result is always surgically precise and delivered like it's the Gospel itself, and also because he essentially tells the same story over and over, mulling and refining and tinkering with the same basic structure. He never gets tired of talking about it, which is why he always has relevant things to say on the subject. Sorkin is also passionate about baseball, Gilbert and Sullivan, liberal politics, and television, which is why he continually works any combination of those things into his work. He's like a kid showing his parents around at open house(or, more accurately, like Tom Jeter at Studio 60?), always wanting to show off the things that are interesting to him. It shows, the passion. It makes a difference. It's why, at the end of the Studio 60 pilot, I hear "Pressure" and see Matt and Danny walk through the semi-lit theater, and I get butterflies in my stomach. It's why I have to smile when he slips little bits of TV history in around the edges--he can't not. He so wants us to know and care, and so I do. It's inspiring.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Hello, winter. How've you been?
Guess what? I'm back on speaking terms with snow. I broke up with snow sports two winters ago after an ill-advised snowboarding trip. With the exception of a fairly tame snowshoeing expedition last year, I've not had good experiences with cold-weather athletics. It's the gravity element: I've realized that going downhill on snow isn't fun for me. It's scary. That kind of speed without control doesn't appeal to me--with great power comes great responsibility, you know? I fall down, and then the snow-bunny six-year-olds speed past and laugh. I get frustrated, and then I cry and walk the rest of the way down the hill. It's not a good thing.
But I went cross-country skiing yesterday, and had a great time. It's a happy medium: cooler than snowshoeing, but not terrifying, like all the other board sports. There are little hills, just enough to feel vaguely Olympian without the fear of breaking bones; the scenery is beautiful and appropriately Alpine; and everybody's cheerful and stopping occasionally for trail mix and sunscreen. Physically, it's like rollerblading while doing the wedding-aisle walk: stride-together-stride-together, which is kind of entertaining (I'm easy). I fell down a lot, mostly to do with my lack of snowplowing skills, but by the end of the day I had the basics. I'd like to go back.
The great thing about cross-country is the tracks: the trails are groomed with grooves for those of us who can't keep their skis parallel. Downhill? Can't steer? No problem: just bend your knees, pick up your poles, and let the curve of the track carry you (until you look up, lose your balance, and inevitably end up on the ground, but that's not the trail's fault). It's great fun. I think we should have more tracked sports. Athletics for the uncoordinated! Excellent!
But I went cross-country skiing yesterday, and had a great time. It's a happy medium: cooler than snowshoeing, but not terrifying, like all the other board sports. There are little hills, just enough to feel vaguely Olympian without the fear of breaking bones; the scenery is beautiful and appropriately Alpine; and everybody's cheerful and stopping occasionally for trail mix and sunscreen. Physically, it's like rollerblading while doing the wedding-aisle walk: stride-together-stride-together, which is kind of entertaining (I'm easy). I fell down a lot, mostly to do with my lack of snowplowing skills, but by the end of the day I had the basics. I'd like to go back.
The great thing about cross-country is the tracks: the trails are groomed with grooves for those of us who can't keep their skis parallel. Downhill? Can't steer? No problem: just bend your knees, pick up your poles, and let the curve of the track carry you (until you look up, lose your balance, and inevitably end up on the ground, but that's not the trail's fault). It's great fun. I think we should have more tracked sports. Athletics for the uncoordinated! Excellent!
Monday, February 12, 2007
12 of 12: February
February 12! Chad Darnell; 12 photos; fun for all!
7:00 - Aaaaand I'm up. Kind of. Don't mock the Sneetch.
7:09 - Maple-brown-sugar shredded wheat; skim milk; four points!
7:42 - Finishing touches. Better than not, I guess.
8: 45 - Returning a screener DVD to a friend. It was, indeed, "something."
9:51 - Walking down to the Evil Empire of Coffee; note the sun in this picture.
11:00 - Break on the lunch room couch with Rebecca and a rice cake with peanut butter. Yum.
4:40 - Note the pouring rain in this picture; compare and contrast with earlier Starbucks photo. Who has two thumbs and left her jacket at home? This girl!
5:55 - Perfect, flat rainy-day water at the lake; sadly, crew practice was cancelled anyway. However: almost not totally dark at 6:00! It's practically summer!
6:12 - Calling my mommy
7:22 - Rocking the antioxidants: tomato and red pepper soup and a chopped mango for dinner
7:36 - Watching the current Project 501 movie, All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). Bummer, man.
8:52 - Writing my Western Front review and looking forward to see what's next
10:14 - Winding down with some polish and Studio 60. Is this photo repellent? I don't have foot issues, but I've got to say that my February feet aren't so appealing.
Next month, same bat time, same bat channel.
7:00 - Aaaaand I'm up. Kind of. Don't mock the Sneetch.
7:09 - Maple-brown-sugar shredded wheat; skim milk; four points!
7:42 - Finishing touches. Better than not, I guess.
8: 45 - Returning a screener DVD to a friend. It was, indeed, "something."
9:51 - Walking down to the Evil Empire of Coffee; note the sun in this picture.
11:00 - Break on the lunch room couch with Rebecca and a rice cake with peanut butter. Yum.
4:40 - Note the pouring rain in this picture; compare and contrast with earlier Starbucks photo. Who has two thumbs and left her jacket at home? This girl!
5:55 - Perfect, flat rainy-day water at the lake; sadly, crew practice was cancelled anyway. However: almost not totally dark at 6:00! It's practically summer!
6:12 - Calling my mommy
7:22 - Rocking the antioxidants: tomato and red pepper soup and a chopped mango for dinner
7:36 - Watching the current Project 501 movie, All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). Bummer, man.
8:52 - Writing my Western Front review and looking forward to see what's next
10:14 - Winding down with some polish and Studio 60. Is this photo repellent? I don't have foot issues, but I've got to say that my February feet aren't so appealing.
Next month, same bat time, same bat channel.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
My home computer is hanging by a thread. As far as I can tell, the actual computer is more or less okay--it's quirky in the way that well-loved computers tend to be, but it works--but the cord seems to have stopped carrying electricity from the wall into the computer. I think. The screen is flickery, and occasionally blacks out, only to shut itself down and restart like nothing happened. The battery isn't so great, either, and I'm scrambling to back everything up before it dies.
So now I'm looking for a new power adapter, which I hear are model-specific. Power adapters, it seems, are weirdly expensive. Ninety-nine dollars for a cord? How is it possible that Radio Shack doesn't have this for seven bucks? I'm also trying to figure out a back-up scheme, because I am smart (as in, S-M-R-T) and therefore have no back-ups of anything.
I guess I'm at that point where I need to decide how much money I'm going to put into my computer before I move on. Two hundred dollars for a new cord and an external hard drive seems like a lot of money to put into an old computer--especially if Vista's taking over the world--but it's cheaper than the $1200 for the shiny new Mac I'm eyeing.
What to do, what to do?
So now I'm looking for a new power adapter, which I hear are model-specific. Power adapters, it seems, are weirdly expensive. Ninety-nine dollars for a cord? How is it possible that Radio Shack doesn't have this for seven bucks? I'm also trying to figure out a back-up scheme, because I am smart (as in, S-M-R-T) and therefore have no back-ups of anything.
I guess I'm at that point where I need to decide how much money I'm going to put into my computer before I move on. Two hundred dollars for a new cord and an external hard drive seems like a lot of money to put into an old computer--especially if Vista's taking over the world--but it's cheaper than the $1200 for the shiny new Mac I'm eyeing.
What to do, what to do?
Friday, February 02, 2007
A harsh mistress
I went to Target the other day after work. I needed contact solution. I did come out with contact solution; I also came out with a skirt, a cardigan, four DVDs (Groundhog Day, Edward Scissorhands, The Princess Bride, and Little Women--all fine films; all under $10), batteries, and a notebook. Target is the vortex, my friends!
It's a good thing their book section is so pathetic; otherwise I'd have a real problem.
It's a good thing their book section is so pathetic; otherwise I'd have a real problem.
Un-Haiku Friday
I've been informed that aside from being Groundhog Day, today is the Second Annual Brigid-in-Cyberspace Silent Poetry Reading. In honor of the occasion, I'm ignoring the seventeen syllables I'd prepared on Bill Murray, rodents, Pennsylvania, and the weather, and posting a real poem.
This is one of my favorites.
New Face
by Alice Walker
I have learned not to worry about love;
but to honor its coming
with all my heart.
To examine the dark mysteries
of the blood
with headless heed and
swirl,
to know the rush of feelings
swift and flowing
as water.
The source appears to be
some inexhaustible
spring
within our twin and triple
selves;
the new face I turn up
to you
no one else on earth
has ever
seen.
This is one of my favorites.
New Face
by Alice Walker
I have learned not to worry about love;
but to honor its coming
with all my heart.
To examine the dark mysteries
of the blood
with headless heed and
swirl,
to know the rush of feelings
swift and flowing
as water.
The source appears to be
some inexhaustible
spring
within our twin and triple
selves;
the new face I turn up
to you
no one else on earth
has ever
seen.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
It's a Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane world
2005 was the year of Pride and Prejudice for me: I went through a phase where I read the novel and both Bridget Jones books, then watched both the 1996 Jennifer Ehle/Colin Firth version and the new Keira Knightley version, plus both Bridget movies. It was a thing. I was into the story that year. I like theme reading.
It's looking like 2007 is shaping up to be a year of Jane Eyre. She's everywhere! I picked up my copy around the New Year and have almost finished it; since then, several of my friends have also started, some of them for the first time. And then there's the new Masterpiece Theatre. Is anybody watching this? It's fantastic. I Tivoed the first half last Sunday and watched it in dribs and drabs over the course of the week; now I'm dying to immerse myself in the second half, though I might torture myself and finish the novel first. It's such a lush intepretation of the story: there's starkness in Jane and in the landscape, but the relationship between Jane and Rochester is all crackly and vibrant, and they've done justice to the creep factor, which only intensifies everything. Also, the production values and art direction are lovely, which is sometimes a sore point between me and the BBC. In all, wonderful. From here, I'm eyeing the handful of Jane Eyre meta-literature that's cropped up in the past few years. The Eyre Affair? Wide Sargasso Sea? There's potential here for a whole spate of Bronteian goodness, no?
Unrelatedly, my favorite band of the past few years--the Shins--came out with a new album last week. I never buy new-new music; I prefer to wait a year or so and then pretend that I've discovered something once everyone else is already over it (see: Coldplay). But I've been awaiting Wincing the Night Away for ages, and I downloaded it this weekend, sight unseen, and I have not been disappointed! They're so good, and this new album of songs is dark and blurry and thematic like their first album (Oh Inverted World), while also being tight and sometimes poppy and bouncy like their second album (Chutes Too Narrow). I get later Brian Wilson from them; also snippets of Abbey Road. We're bonding, this album and I, and then I think we will be fast friends.
It's looking like 2007 is shaping up to be a year of Jane Eyre. She's everywhere! I picked up my copy around the New Year and have almost finished it; since then, several of my friends have also started, some of them for the first time. And then there's the new Masterpiece Theatre. Is anybody watching this? It's fantastic. I Tivoed the first half last Sunday and watched it in dribs and drabs over the course of the week; now I'm dying to immerse myself in the second half, though I might torture myself and finish the novel first. It's such a lush intepretation of the story: there's starkness in Jane and in the landscape, but the relationship between Jane and Rochester is all crackly and vibrant, and they've done justice to the creep factor, which only intensifies everything. Also, the production values and art direction are lovely, which is sometimes a sore point between me and the BBC. In all, wonderful. From here, I'm eyeing the handful of Jane Eyre meta-literature that's cropped up in the past few years. The Eyre Affair? Wide Sargasso Sea? There's potential here for a whole spate of Bronteian goodness, no?
Unrelatedly, my favorite band of the past few years--the Shins--came out with a new album last week. I never buy new-new music; I prefer to wait a year or so and then pretend that I've discovered something once everyone else is already over it (see: Coldplay). But I've been awaiting Wincing the Night Away for ages, and I downloaded it this weekend, sight unseen, and I have not been disappointed! They're so good, and this new album of songs is dark and blurry and thematic like their first album (Oh Inverted World), while also being tight and sometimes poppy and bouncy like their second album (Chutes Too Narrow). I get later Brian Wilson from them; also snippets of Abbey Road. We're bonding, this album and I, and then I think we will be fast friends.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Watching
At the beginning of the fall TV season, I wrote a post about all of the shows I was thinking about watching, and why. Well, TV has been on winter hiatus for a while now, but this week is spring, so to speak: a few NBC shows have been there to fill the void, but come Monday, my schedule will be back in full swing. The truth is, this is a glorious time to be a TV fan--there will always be bad TV out there, but there is an abundance of interesting, complex, likeable material to be had these days. Here's what I'm watching:
Monday, 10:00 p.m., NBC
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Aaron Sorkin's first post-West Wing outing is like a person: flawed, but lovable. It can be a little preachy, it cares way more about TV than the average American ever will, and the sketch-comedy portions are hit-or-miss; these are bumps that are still being worked out. But these are Sorkin's flaws, and he brings with him such wonderful characterization and dialogue that it's hard to care in the long run. Halfway through the first (and only?) season, the relationships he's so carefully set up are captivating, particularly between the two male leads, Matt and Danny--writing male friendship is Sorkin's passion and his gift--and between Matt and his lady love, Harriet Hayes. Regarding Danny and Jordan: I don't much care about them in theory, but I'm very much looking forward to Sorkin and Bradley Whitford rocking our socks off, so I'm in favor. In other words, Studio 60 isn't perfect, but it's funny and sweet. You'll want to hang out with these people. The good stuff's just ramping up anyway.
Tuesday, 8:00, CW
Gilmore Girls
I've been watching the Girls for a long time now; I've seen the ups and downs, and I've been around long enough to see the cycles and patterns in the writing. I don't think I could stop watching, even if I wanted to. Things are different this season; creator and evil genius Amy Sherman-Palladino called it quits last May and left her baby's final season to a new guy, dropping the dreaded Chris-Bomb on her way out. On one hand, I give David S. Rosenthal props for being willing to explore a self-evident Gilmorian truth in depth: Lorelai and Christopher Are Not Meant to Be. It's been a little onerous to watch (Come on, dude, you can't just buy your way out of a knit-a-thon. Jeez!), but I don't mind the detour, in theory. I trust that Luke and Lorelai Are Mean to Be; I can wait this out. I'm also pleased with what he's done with Rory, Luke/April, and all of the minor characters--he's redeemed the townies in my eyes, which is a pleasant surprise. On the other hand, I think Rosenthal's weakness is a particularly bad one: he doesn't have Lorelai. He doesn't have her mind and he doesn't have her voice, and more than anybody, Lorelai makes the Gilmores what they are. It's an issue. But in general, this season is watchable, and I sense good things coming our way.
Tuesday, 9:00, CW
Veronica Mars
Longtime fans of Veronica's seem to be having problems with this season, but I'm having a great time with it--if nothing else, I'd be suspicious if a third murder happened in Neptune around September, only to be solved in May. The first "act" of the season (out of three, I'm told) ended with the solving of one major crime--terrifyingly, by the way--and the start of a new mystery. My general rule for Veronica is not to try to figure the story out ahead of time; the plot is always so convoluted that I'd rather just sit back and let the writers break my brain. It's worked well so far, and I expect not to be disappointed. Also: Logan!Angst and plenty of good stuff with Keith, my current favorite TV daddy (who contends only with Jack Bristow, but who wants to contend with Jack?). Just...fun. That's what it is.
Thursday, 8:00 NBC
The Office
Every week, I think to myself that The Office can't possibly get any better, that it's at the top of its craft, and every week it knocks my socks off in a whole new way. This show is like watching a three-ring circus with Shakespeare going on in the background: it's in your face, it can be relentless, but the beauty is in the small human dramas going on behind the main stage; you just have to pay enough attention to see what's happening. Everybody interacts with everybody else; everybody's a little bit awful, but a little bit redeemable; there are weird connections and happy little moments sprinkled around, and it's just brilliant. Also, I never thought I'd say this, but I've gotten rather attached to Karen. She's no Pam Beesly, but she didn't know what she was walking into, poor girl. Also: Ed Helms? You're hilarious, and I'm so surprised by that. Heh. For those who don't want to pick things up cold, I'm told that NBC is re-running three episodes this Thursday, January 25. Tune in. It's worth it.
Thursday, 9:30, NBC
30 Rock
I'm brand-new to this show, but I have nothing but affection and respect for Tina Fey, and also, watching her as Liz Lemon is uncannily like watching myself on TV. I was not the first to notice this. The show is funny; Alec Baldwin is funny; Tina Fey is funny. Win.
And just in case there's not enough on the airwaves to keep me entertained (to be fair, we've been on hiatus, remember?), I've been cruising through a couple of shows on Netflix, which also deserve honorable mentions.
Sports Night
If Studio 60 is Aaron Sorkin post-West Wing, Sports Night is the other side of that coin: his show before he hit it big, a sitcom about a sports show. I am smitten with this show. I have a crush on a TV show. As I round the corner into Disc Three, I'm carried away by how attached I am to the main characters--who do I love more? Casey McCall? Dan Rydell? It's just lovely. Also, Filliam H. Muffman and Robert Guillaume. 'Nuff said.
Weeds
This one's a little different--Mary Louise Parker (who is awesome just by showing up; she's that good, all the time) plays a suburban mother of two boys who's recently widowed and starts dealing marijuana to maintain her lifestyle. It's cynical--frequent potshots at suburban hypocrisy--but also takes an emotionally honest look at grief, parenting, wealth, race, etc. It's engaging and clever and very, very funny; it's also from Showtime, so consider yourself warned.
Oh, TV. There's so much excellence right now, I can hardly stand it.
Monday, 10:00 p.m., NBC
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Aaron Sorkin's first post-West Wing outing is like a person: flawed, but lovable. It can be a little preachy, it cares way more about TV than the average American ever will, and the sketch-comedy portions are hit-or-miss; these are bumps that are still being worked out. But these are Sorkin's flaws, and he brings with him such wonderful characterization and dialogue that it's hard to care in the long run. Halfway through the first (and only?) season, the relationships he's so carefully set up are captivating, particularly between the two male leads, Matt and Danny--writing male friendship is Sorkin's passion and his gift--and between Matt and his lady love, Harriet Hayes. Regarding Danny and Jordan: I don't much care about them in theory, but I'm very much looking forward to Sorkin and Bradley Whitford rocking our socks off, so I'm in favor. In other words, Studio 60 isn't perfect, but it's funny and sweet. You'll want to hang out with these people. The good stuff's just ramping up anyway.
Tuesday, 8:00, CW
Gilmore Girls
I've been watching the Girls for a long time now; I've seen the ups and downs, and I've been around long enough to see the cycles and patterns in the writing. I don't think I could stop watching, even if I wanted to. Things are different this season; creator and evil genius Amy Sherman-Palladino called it quits last May and left her baby's final season to a new guy, dropping the dreaded Chris-Bomb on her way out. On one hand, I give David S. Rosenthal props for being willing to explore a self-evident Gilmorian truth in depth: Lorelai and Christopher Are Not Meant to Be. It's been a little onerous to watch (Come on, dude, you can't just buy your way out of a knit-a-thon. Jeez!), but I don't mind the detour, in theory. I trust that Luke and Lorelai Are Mean to Be; I can wait this out. I'm also pleased with what he's done with Rory, Luke/April, and all of the minor characters--he's redeemed the townies in my eyes, which is a pleasant surprise. On the other hand, I think Rosenthal's weakness is a particularly bad one: he doesn't have Lorelai. He doesn't have her mind and he doesn't have her voice, and more than anybody, Lorelai makes the Gilmores what they are. It's an issue. But in general, this season is watchable, and I sense good things coming our way.
Tuesday, 9:00, CW
Veronica Mars
Longtime fans of Veronica's seem to be having problems with this season, but I'm having a great time with it--if nothing else, I'd be suspicious if a third murder happened in Neptune around September, only to be solved in May. The first "act" of the season (out of three, I'm told) ended with the solving of one major crime--terrifyingly, by the way--and the start of a new mystery. My general rule for Veronica is not to try to figure the story out ahead of time; the plot is always so convoluted that I'd rather just sit back and let the writers break my brain. It's worked well so far, and I expect not to be disappointed. Also: Logan!Angst and plenty of good stuff with Keith, my current favorite TV daddy (who contends only with Jack Bristow, but who wants to contend with Jack?). Just...fun. That's what it is.
Thursday, 8:00 NBC
The Office
Every week, I think to myself that The Office can't possibly get any better, that it's at the top of its craft, and every week it knocks my socks off in a whole new way. This show is like watching a three-ring circus with Shakespeare going on in the background: it's in your face, it can be relentless, but the beauty is in the small human dramas going on behind the main stage; you just have to pay enough attention to see what's happening. Everybody interacts with everybody else; everybody's a little bit awful, but a little bit redeemable; there are weird connections and happy little moments sprinkled around, and it's just brilliant. Also, I never thought I'd say this, but I've gotten rather attached to Karen. She's no Pam Beesly, but she didn't know what she was walking into, poor girl. Also: Ed Helms? You're hilarious, and I'm so surprised by that. Heh. For those who don't want to pick things up cold, I'm told that NBC is re-running three episodes this Thursday, January 25. Tune in. It's worth it.
Thursday, 9:30, NBC
30 Rock
I'm brand-new to this show, but I have nothing but affection and respect for Tina Fey, and also, watching her as Liz Lemon is uncannily like watching myself on TV. I was not the first to notice this. The show is funny; Alec Baldwin is funny; Tina Fey is funny. Win.
And just in case there's not enough on the airwaves to keep me entertained (to be fair, we've been on hiatus, remember?), I've been cruising through a couple of shows on Netflix, which also deserve honorable mentions.
Sports Night
If Studio 60 is Aaron Sorkin post-West Wing, Sports Night is the other side of that coin: his show before he hit it big, a sitcom about a sports show. I am smitten with this show. I have a crush on a TV show. As I round the corner into Disc Three, I'm carried away by how attached I am to the main characters--who do I love more? Casey McCall? Dan Rydell? It's just lovely. Also, Filliam H. Muffman and Robert Guillaume. 'Nuff said.
Weeds
This one's a little different--Mary Louise Parker (who is awesome just by showing up; she's that good, all the time) plays a suburban mother of two boys who's recently widowed and starts dealing marijuana to maintain her lifestyle. It's cynical--frequent potshots at suburban hypocrisy--but also takes an emotionally honest look at grief, parenting, wealth, race, etc. It's engaging and clever and very, very funny; it's also from Showtime, so consider yourself warned.
Oh, TV. There's so much excellence right now, I can hardly stand it.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Needles
On Monday, I went to my mom's house for a sewing day. Now, I grew up with a Sewing Mom--Halloween costumes as far as the eye can see--but I don't sew, myself. In my mind, the sewing machine is like a mythical beast: the source of great things, yes, but also noisy mysterious and capable of taking off my finger without breaking a sweat. When I was about ten, I sewed my grandparents a pair of matching his-and-hers pillow cases (very Wheel of Fortune of me) with their names puff-painted on the hems. A few years later, I made myself some flannel pajama bottoms. That's been about it for me and the sewing machine: I got away with my pj pants and all of my fingers intact, and felt grateful for it.
Knitting supplies make a girl do crazy things, though. My needle collection has begun to grow, and it's practically a miracle that I haven't impaled myself on a stray US-10.5 on the way to the bathroom at night; instead of tempting fate, I decided awhile ago that I should make myself a needle case. I studied the (sewing) pattern in the back of my Stitch 'n Bitch book; I went to Hancock Fabrics and bought some uber-girly pink-and-brown fabric and a shiny brown satin ribbon to use as a tie. My mother graciously volunteered to help me out.
The case took practically all day, no thanks to a mis-cutting incident where we ended up back at Hancock's for more fabric. It turns out that learning to use a sewing machine is much like learning to drive a stick-shift car: feet do one thing, hands do another, there's a button for reverse, and don't forget to steer! There's a lot of lurching, of S E W S E W S E W sewsewsewsew S E W S E W S E W sewsewsewsew. I measured the fabric and cut it out and spent an hour measuring and sewing seams for the needle pockets. I sewed seams around the edges and only called for help when I'd inched in towards the middle and couldn't steer back. Eventually I turned the whole thing right-side-out and Mom agreed to sew the outer 1/4-inch seam and hand-stitch the ribbon to the outside. And? Voila:
All ten fingers still attached, and my knitting needles are safe and sound (and not sticking out of my bare feet in the middle of the night).
Also, along similar knitting-related lines, proof that I don't deserve my friends--I arrived at work on Thursday to find this shirt:
folded neatly on my chair with a note from Christine. She'd seen it on a recent episode of Gilmore Girls and thought I should have it, because she's super-nice like that. Don't mess with me, yo. I have several pairs of big needles in my purse.
Knitting supplies make a girl do crazy things, though. My needle collection has begun to grow, and it's practically a miracle that I haven't impaled myself on a stray US-10.5 on the way to the bathroom at night; instead of tempting fate, I decided awhile ago that I should make myself a needle case. I studied the (sewing) pattern in the back of my Stitch 'n Bitch book; I went to Hancock Fabrics and bought some uber-girly pink-and-brown fabric and a shiny brown satin ribbon to use as a tie. My mother graciously volunteered to help me out.
The case took practically all day, no thanks to a mis-cutting incident where we ended up back at Hancock's for more fabric. It turns out that learning to use a sewing machine is much like learning to drive a stick-shift car: feet do one thing, hands do another, there's a button for reverse, and don't forget to steer! There's a lot of lurching, of S E W S E W S E W sewsewsewsew S E W S E W S E W sewsewsewsew. I measured the fabric and cut it out and spent an hour measuring and sewing seams for the needle pockets. I sewed seams around the edges and only called for help when I'd inched in towards the middle and couldn't steer back. Eventually I turned the whole thing right-side-out and Mom agreed to sew the outer 1/4-inch seam and hand-stitch the ribbon to the outside. And? Voila:
All ten fingers still attached, and my knitting needles are safe and sound (and not sticking out of my bare feet in the middle of the night).
Also, along similar knitting-related lines, proof that I don't deserve my friends--I arrived at work on Thursday to find this shirt:
folded neatly on my chair with a note from Christine. She'd seen it on a recent episode of Gilmore Girls and thought I should have it, because she's super-nice like that. Don't mess with me, yo. I have several pairs of big needles in my purse.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
12 of 12: January
12 of 12: Chad Darnell; 12th of the month; 12 photos; fun for all!
7:30 - I am a little ray of sunshine in the morning. (Actually, I am. But this is pre-breakfast, so what more do you want from me?)
7:35 - Honey-Nut Shredded Wheat: tasty and Weight Watchers-friendly. One cup, plus a few extra. I cheat.
8:32 - My 12-minute commute.
9:17 - A morning trip to Starbucks with Holly, Donna, and Tom. I don't do coffee, but I do do morning walks.
11: 27 - Transcribing notes from a conference call. Wooooo!
3:15 - The New York Times Sunday crossword; note that it's pretty much finished. That probably took Editorial and Production a week's worth of lunchtimes.
5:09 - After work, a quick trip to the library--I needed to return a book I thought I'd lost, and also get a particular video. They waived the Lost Book fee, which was nice. I'm happy to be back on speaking terms with the OPL.
6:44 - This Mason Dixon Ballband Dishcloth is supposed to be easy, but, predictably, it's fighting me at every row. It's sort of ridiculous, but I WILL TRIUMPH.
8:13 - It's the magic risotto! With peas and shitake mushrooms, and a little bit of parmesan and a ton of chicken stock. Possibly my favorite food of all time; definitely a perfect quiet-night-in dish.
10:30 - Let's hear it for the silent WWI movies! I'm starting a project for Cinema Hype in which I'll be watching and writing about all of the Oscar Best Picture winners in chronological order. This was the very first one, Wings, from 1927. Good movie.
11:10 - Mmmm, Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte gets so breathless about everything; it's sort of cute. Jane Austen would either have rolled her eyes or just patted her on the head.
11:37 - Sexay.
7:30 - I am a little ray of sunshine in the morning. (Actually, I am. But this is pre-breakfast, so what more do you want from me?)
7:35 - Honey-Nut Shredded Wheat: tasty and Weight Watchers-friendly. One cup, plus a few extra. I cheat.
8:32 - My 12-minute commute.
9:17 - A morning trip to Starbucks with Holly, Donna, and Tom. I don't do coffee, but I do do morning walks.
11: 27 - Transcribing notes from a conference call. Wooooo!
3:15 - The New York Times Sunday crossword; note that it's pretty much finished. That probably took Editorial and Production a week's worth of lunchtimes.
5:09 - After work, a quick trip to the library--I needed to return a book I thought I'd lost, and also get a particular video. They waived the Lost Book fee, which was nice. I'm happy to be back on speaking terms with the OPL.
6:44 - This Mason Dixon Ballband Dishcloth is supposed to be easy, but, predictably, it's fighting me at every row. It's sort of ridiculous, but I WILL TRIUMPH.
8:13 - It's the magic risotto! With peas and shitake mushrooms, and a little bit of parmesan and a ton of chicken stock. Possibly my favorite food of all time; definitely a perfect quiet-night-in dish.
10:30 - Let's hear it for the silent WWI movies! I'm starting a project for Cinema Hype in which I'll be watching and writing about all of the Oscar Best Picture winners in chronological order. This was the very first one, Wings, from 1927. Good movie.
11:10 - Mmmm, Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte gets so breathless about everything; it's sort of cute. Jane Austen would either have rolled her eyes or just patted her on the head.
11:37 - Sexay.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
A good calendar is hard to find.
I finally, finally bought a calendar yesterday. I'm weird about calendars: I manage to be incredibly cheap and spur-of-the-moment about them (i.e. I refuse to spend time or money), and yet I'm also absurdly picky, so that I show up at the kiosk in the mall on January 2 and wonder why they only have cocker spaniel calendars. I also can't handle being without a calendar, in the same way I hate not wearing a watch: someone says, "Let's get together on January 16," and somehow in my calendar-less state, I have no idea when that is. Next week? A month from now? For all I know, they're making a date for 2009, and I won't show up anyway. I'll just be wandering the streets of Oakland, not having any idea who I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. This is what a calendar is preventing.
The past few years have been easy, calendar-wise. Every year, my friend Al buys me an Orlando Bloom calendar and marks it up with a "thought from Orlando" (this is being generous to him, this attributing of actual thoughts to him) for each month. It's been awesome. Everyone loves the Orlando calendar. Apparently, though, poor Orlando ceased to be hot sometime in 2006: she couldn't find him anywhere ("Not even Wal-Mart! In Puyallup!"). So: no pirate-elf-men for me in 2007, which is not exactly getting things off on the right foot, now, is it?
I actually already had a calendar, hand-made by the lovely and exotic Teri with pictures of all of our friends. Everyone's birthdays are included, and everything. I love my Teri calendar. But that's my kitchen calendar, and for whatever reason, I can't live if I don't know what day it is in the living room. I need two calendars.
I almost bought a Georgia O'Keefe calendar when I was in Tacoma. I like Georgia O'Keefe. A lot. I like the images she uses. I like the colors she uses. I even--truth be told--like the whole botanical/anatomical thing. But I had to ask myself: was I ready to commit to flowers that look like genitalia? For a whole year? In mixed company? I decided to wait on it and buy it in the Bay Area, and took it as a sign when I didn't find another one here. I also came perilously--perilously, as in I really truly almost bought it--close to buying the world's most bizarre and disturbing calendar: ferrets acting out scenes from famous movies. It was so creepy, so unnerving, that I almost had to have it. I'm seriously still thinking about it with a mix of regret and repulsion. Hey, I'm still thinking about a calendar I didn't buy, like, three years ago (Sloane Tanen, and it's the little yoga-chickens with their feet in the air that make it art). This is serious business.
In the end, the ferrets lost out to a perfectly prosaic Fun with Dick and Jane calendar. Mostly, I like the production values: the colors are nice and they match my apartment; it's modern-vintage; everything's in English, French, and German. Also, it came with stickers, which apparently I haven't outgrown. And it won't give me ferret dreams.
It's going to be a good year.
The past few years have been easy, calendar-wise. Every year, my friend Al buys me an Orlando Bloom calendar and marks it up with a "thought from Orlando" (this is being generous to him, this attributing of actual thoughts to him) for each month. It's been awesome. Everyone loves the Orlando calendar. Apparently, though, poor Orlando ceased to be hot sometime in 2006: she couldn't find him anywhere ("Not even Wal-Mart! In Puyallup!"). So: no pirate-elf-men for me in 2007, which is not exactly getting things off on the right foot, now, is it?
I actually already had a calendar, hand-made by the lovely and exotic Teri with pictures of all of our friends. Everyone's birthdays are included, and everything. I love my Teri calendar. But that's my kitchen calendar, and for whatever reason, I can't live if I don't know what day it is in the living room. I need two calendars.
I almost bought a Georgia O'Keefe calendar when I was in Tacoma. I like Georgia O'Keefe. A lot. I like the images she uses. I like the colors she uses. I even--truth be told--like the whole botanical/anatomical thing. But I had to ask myself: was I ready to commit to flowers that look like genitalia? For a whole year? In mixed company? I decided to wait on it and buy it in the Bay Area, and took it as a sign when I didn't find another one here. I also came perilously--perilously, as in I really truly almost bought it--close to buying the world's most bizarre and disturbing calendar: ferrets acting out scenes from famous movies. It was so creepy, so unnerving, that I almost had to have it. I'm seriously still thinking about it with a mix of regret and repulsion. Hey, I'm still thinking about a calendar I didn't buy, like, three years ago (Sloane Tanen, and it's the little yoga-chickens with their feet in the air that make it art). This is serious business.
In the end, the ferrets lost out to a perfectly prosaic Fun with Dick and Jane calendar. Mostly, I like the production values: the colors are nice and they match my apartment; it's modern-vintage; everything's in English, French, and German. Also, it came with stickers, which apparently I haven't outgrown. And it won't give me ferret dreams.
It's going to be a good year.
Friday, January 05, 2007
On books
Frequent visitors here may have noticed that that poor red copy of Dracula has been sitting under "Current Reads" for an awfully long time. That's not a mistake--I'm still working on it. I took it to my parents' house for Christmas, determined to finish by the time I left (nothing like a little vampire lit to brighten the holidays), and then a) completely ignored it and b) promptly left it next to the trundle bed in my old bedroom. The saddest part is that it's not boring. I'm not slogging through it. It's a fun read, full of melodrama and nights spent in the cemetery and just a little bit of Edwardian gore. It's just taking me ages.
In the mean time, I've picked up my old Benicia High School copy of Jane Eyre. I remember the first time I read Jane: my parents had kidnapped me from a New Year's Eve sleepover (at an absurdly early hour, I might add) and taken me on a family mini-break to Solvang and Santa Barbara, where I tried fairly hard not to have any fun at all. I was reading Jane Eyre for Academic Decathlon, and I remember being in the car and wondering why nobody had recommended such a wonderful book to me before. Ten years later, it's still that good. I'm sailing through it, trying to see Jane as I didn't in high school, and I'm just loving the way she's been developed: She's rebellious...but not. She's plain...but not a victim. She's practical...but romantic in a way that even she doesn't expect. I haven't gotten to The Plot Twist yet (trying not to spoil the surprise for anybody, here), but in my mind, it's what defines Gothic. I remember being so shocked the first time around. What a fantastic book!
This whole thing is actually part of a planned reading binge for me: after Jane Eyre, I'm going to complete the Gothic trilogy with my pretty new copy of Daphne DuMaurier's Rebecca, which is another high school love. I've never been clear on why Rebecca isn't more popular--it's well-written, creepy, and completely engaging; plus, the 1940 film (with an extremely young Joan Fontaine) is the only Alfred Hitchcock movie ever to win Best Picture. I can't wait. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." I've got shivers already.
And one last thing: if you like reading books or reading about books, check out my friend Teri's blog. I theoretically read a lot; Teri actually reads a lot, and she keeps track of what she reads. If you're curious or looking for a book recommendation, her blog is a good place to start. Also, I can't handle being the "token reader."
This is just making me want to read more. I think I will.
In the mean time, I've picked up my old Benicia High School copy of Jane Eyre. I remember the first time I read Jane: my parents had kidnapped me from a New Year's Eve sleepover (at an absurdly early hour, I might add) and taken me on a family mini-break to Solvang and Santa Barbara, where I tried fairly hard not to have any fun at all. I was reading Jane Eyre for Academic Decathlon, and I remember being in the car and wondering why nobody had recommended such a wonderful book to me before. Ten years later, it's still that good. I'm sailing through it, trying to see Jane as I didn't in high school, and I'm just loving the way she's been developed: She's rebellious...but not. She's plain...but not a victim. She's practical...but romantic in a way that even she doesn't expect. I haven't gotten to The Plot Twist yet (trying not to spoil the surprise for anybody, here), but in my mind, it's what defines Gothic. I remember being so shocked the first time around. What a fantastic book!
This whole thing is actually part of a planned reading binge for me: after Jane Eyre, I'm going to complete the Gothic trilogy with my pretty new copy of Daphne DuMaurier's Rebecca, which is another high school love. I've never been clear on why Rebecca isn't more popular--it's well-written, creepy, and completely engaging; plus, the 1940 film (with an extremely young Joan Fontaine) is the only Alfred Hitchcock movie ever to win Best Picture. I can't wait. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." I've got shivers already.
And one last thing: if you like reading books or reading about books, check out my friend Teri's blog. I theoretically read a lot; Teri actually reads a lot, and she keeps track of what she reads. If you're curious or looking for a book recommendation, her blog is a good place to start. Also, I can't handle being the "token reader."
This is just making me want to read more. I think I will.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain
My crew got caught in the rain tonight. Rowing in the rain is kind of a trade-off situation. On one hand, it sounds worse than it is: the water is usually dead calm when it rains, so the rowing is easy; rain means cloud cover, which keeps the air a little warmer; and a bit of cool water feels nice on the back of the neck. Rowing in the rain is tranquil. On the other hand, it's...raining. Our oars get slippery and we hold the handles too tightly, which unbalances the boat and causes blisters. And there's nothing worse for concentration than a drop of water sliding through your part, down your forehead, and off the end of your nose.
We don't usually row in the rain. We'll keep going if we're already on the water, but if we're just showing up, we know what's good for us: if we hurry through our indoor workout--and herein lies the true spirit of my crew--we can just catch the 7:00 movie at the Parkway with enough time to stand in line for pizza. Every once in awhile, though, we get caught in the middle of the lake and we decide to stay out. It's not bad. I think we all secretly like it, at least for a while.
Also: thank goodness for soup and hot showers.
We don't usually row in the rain. We'll keep going if we're already on the water, but if we're just showing up, we know what's good for us: if we hurry through our indoor workout--and herein lies the true spirit of my crew--we can just catch the 7:00 movie at the Parkway with enough time to stand in line for pizza. Every once in awhile, though, we get caught in the middle of the lake and we decide to stay out. It's not bad. I think we all secretly like it, at least for a while.
Also: thank goodness for soup and hot showers.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Queen of the Sloths
Happy New Year! I'm in Tacoma for the annual Slothfest with my college friends Katie and Al, which is lovely. We do this every year, basically--gather for a few days of hanging out in our jammies with pinochle and chocolate and the same few movies we always watch. Things are a little different these days--Teri opted to stay in Arizona, and I'm the only one without a husband in tow. It's just the same, though, too, in all the good ways. We went to Red Robin for endless steak fries, which is a necessity. So there's that.
We exchanged Christmas presents the other night; you can tell we're all becoming adults because we all gave each other cookbooks. I also got Book Lust (a book of book recommendations!), The Action Heroine's Handbook (Like I need a manual. I watched five seasons of Alias), the new Traveling Pants book, and a calendar full of photos of my friends and me. We're good at shopping for each other.
I have a theory about New Year's Eve. In my mind, there are two legitimate ways to ring in the new year: either go all out, get faaaaabulous, and go to a huge, formal party (note that I've never actually done this, but I'm open to the idea) or stay in with your very favorite people. This year, I chose the latter (minus Katie, who went up to Issaquah): I spent the evening with Al, Paul, Vicky, and Vicky's three-year-old nephew; we ate pizza and watched a Discovery Channel special about the ten most likely scenarios for the end of the world, then played Scene It? and rang in the new year with the Space Needle fireworks on TV. Nothing too exciting, but it wasn't exactly nothing special, either. It was just the way I like to celebrate the year: with food and friends.
Here's to 2007!
We exchanged Christmas presents the other night; you can tell we're all becoming adults because we all gave each other cookbooks. I also got Book Lust (a book of book recommendations!), The Action Heroine's Handbook (Like I need a manual. I watched five seasons of Alias), the new Traveling Pants book, and a calendar full of photos of my friends and me. We're good at shopping for each other.
I have a theory about New Year's Eve. In my mind, there are two legitimate ways to ring in the new year: either go all out, get faaaaabulous, and go to a huge, formal party (note that I've never actually done this, but I'm open to the idea) or stay in with your very favorite people. This year, I chose the latter (minus Katie, who went up to Issaquah): I spent the evening with Al, Paul, Vicky, and Vicky's three-year-old nephew; we ate pizza and watched a Discovery Channel special about the ten most likely scenarios for the end of the world, then played Scene It? and rang in the new year with the Space Needle fireworks on TV. Nothing too exciting, but it wasn't exactly nothing special, either. It was just the way I like to celebrate the year: with food and friends.
Here's to 2007!
Friday, December 22, 2006
Goooooo, squid!
A team of Japanese researchers just released the first-ever video of a live giant squid. I am stupidly excited about this. The truth is, I love the giant squid--I mean, it's a giant squid. It's an actual sea monster, with tentacles and everything! Sixty feet long! They're not just making it up!
And anyway, how is it that something that huge lives in our oceans and we don't know about it, or even where to find it? The researchers say that there may be far more giant squid in the oceans than they previously thought, and I just hope that's true. I hope the ocean is crawling with giant squid and they're just smart enough or light-sensitive enough or just lucky enough to have eluded us this long. And even though I'm geeking out about this one, I kind of hope they're able to keep it up.
In other news: Mid-post earthquake! Not a small one, either.
ETA: It was a 3.7, the second in three days. Hmmmm.
And anyway, how is it that something that huge lives in our oceans and we don't know about it, or even where to find it? The researchers say that there may be far more giant squid in the oceans than they previously thought, and I just hope that's true. I hope the ocean is crawling with giant squid and they're just smart enough or light-sensitive enough or just lucky enough to have eluded us this long. And even though I'm geeking out about this one, I kind of hope they're able to keep it up.
In other news: Mid-post earthquake! Not a small one, either.
ETA: It was a 3.7, the second in three days. Hmmmm.
Hallows = a clearing in the forest where they hang people?
So, the title of the final Harry Potter book has been released.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Except that "hallows" is not a noun (I checked), and "deathly" is not the same as "deadly."
Hmmmm. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
I see a proper noun in our midst.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Except that "hallows" is not a noun (I checked), and "deathly" is not the same as "deadly."
Hmmmm. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
I see a proper noun in our midst.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
EEEEEEEEEEE!
I didn't know until recently that the twelve days of Christmas were supposed to take place after Christmas (we Baptists aren't really into Epiphany, so it never registered). If they were before Christmas, today would be the first day, partridge-in-a-pear-tree day.
I pretend to be surprised that it's almost halfway through December, but it's not really true. I was dying for December this year. I bought Christmas cards the day after Thanksgiving--no mean feat, as I am absurdly picky about my Christmas cards--and I've been plugging away at a list of Christmas movies for Cinema Hype. I don't decorate much for Christmas and I just can't be bothered with a tree, but I'm definitely working on the mindset.
My brother likes to proclaim Christmas by listening to Amy Grant's Christmas album over breakfast (don't mock; it's a family favorite, and it rules). I always start with this record my parents have from 1966, "The Great Songs of Christmas," Vol 6. We listened to it every year until the record player stopped working, and now Ben and I are trying to re-create it on iTunes. My incomplete digital version starts with Andy Williams's rendition of "Do You Hear What I Hear?" and it's such a satisfying way to kick off the season--his voice is deep and smooth, and the song just gets better and better as it goes on ("SAID THE KING TO THE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE..."). I love it. The rest of the album varies between the fairly normal (Nat King Cole, Barbra Streisand) and some stuff that I guarantee iTunes will never have as long as they claim to be cool (The New Christie Minstrels, Jan Peerce [ChristthenewbornkingNoEL!]). I like a lot of different kinds of Christmas music, but there's a right way for me to begin the season, and Andy Williams is it.
Once the music's playing, The Sound comes out. If you've ever spent any time with my family at all during December, you know where I'm going with this. I believe the whole thing started with Ramona Quimby, actually; in Ramona and her Father, Ramona makes up a "joyful noise" to express her excitement about Christmas. As a kid, I thought this was a pretty good idea, because I was pretty excited about Christmas, myself. Thus: EEEEEEE! It's loud, it's high-pitched, and I'm sure it's obnoxious, but it's what we do, and we do it more and more as Christmas approaches. It's our joyful noise.
Oh, Christmas. Welcome.
I pretend to be surprised that it's almost halfway through December, but it's not really true. I was dying for December this year. I bought Christmas cards the day after Thanksgiving--no mean feat, as I am absurdly picky about my Christmas cards--and I've been plugging away at a list of Christmas movies for Cinema Hype. I don't decorate much for Christmas and I just can't be bothered with a tree, but I'm definitely working on the mindset.
My brother likes to proclaim Christmas by listening to Amy Grant's Christmas album over breakfast (don't mock; it's a family favorite, and it rules). I always start with this record my parents have from 1966, "The Great Songs of Christmas," Vol 6. We listened to it every year until the record player stopped working, and now Ben and I are trying to re-create it on iTunes. My incomplete digital version starts with Andy Williams's rendition of "Do You Hear What I Hear?" and it's such a satisfying way to kick off the season--his voice is deep and smooth, and the song just gets better and better as it goes on ("SAID THE KING TO THE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE..."). I love it. The rest of the album varies between the fairly normal (Nat King Cole, Barbra Streisand) and some stuff that I guarantee iTunes will never have as long as they claim to be cool (The New Christie Minstrels, Jan Peerce [ChristthenewbornkingNoEL!]). I like a lot of different kinds of Christmas music, but there's a right way for me to begin the season, and Andy Williams is it.
Once the music's playing, The Sound comes out. If you've ever spent any time with my family at all during December, you know where I'm going with this. I believe the whole thing started with Ramona Quimby, actually; in Ramona and her Father, Ramona makes up a "joyful noise" to express her excitement about Christmas. As a kid, I thought this was a pretty good idea, because I was pretty excited about Christmas, myself. Thus: EEEEEEE! It's loud, it's high-pitched, and I'm sure it's obnoxious, but it's what we do, and we do it more and more as Christmas approaches. It's our joyful noise.
Oh, Christmas. Welcome.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
12 of 12: December
Happy 12 of 12 to all, and to all a good night (seriously, it's barely the 12th by now)! For the uninitiated, 12 of 12 is an internet project started by TV writer (formerly of Alias fame; he's now on Crossing Jordan, I believe) Chad Darnell. On the twelfth of every month, people around the world take twelve pictures of their days and post them online. You can see my October entry here.
Getting on with it:
A rainy morning in Oakland.
The mural in progress at Lakeview Elementary School. Oakland is mural heaven--if there's a concrete surface, somebody's going to paint it. Most are representations of Lake Merritt (or Lake Merritt as New York, or Lake Merritt as Italy, or whatever), but there are others, too. I used to live right next to the overpass with giraffes on the columns.
Sticking a Netflix disc in the mail (if you must know, The West Wing Season Four, Disc Four, in which CJ's dad has Alzheimer's, President Bartlet invades Africa, Toby and Charlie get into a bar fight, and Josh tells Donna how amazing she looks).
My favorite Key mug, the People's Princess mug. I know I'm not alone when I say that I tend to hoard it.
Yoga! Those are my feet propped up against the wall. At the end of class, we lie on our backs with our feet on the walls, and it feels great.
Lunch: organic Indian food from the freezer. Peas, chickpeas, tomatoes, cheese, and rice. It looks less depressing if you put it on a plate. Really.
The Daily Show and knitting. I had essentially this same picture in October--same show, same pose, different scarf--but 20 minutes of fake-news love is what I do when I get home.
Hanging out in the magazine aisle at Safeway after going to the ATM.
Dinner at Koryo on Telegraph to celebrate my friend Luke's birthday. Korean food is the original small-plate cuisine combined with the genius of letting people pay to cook their own food. Tasty, though.
The birthday boy and me.
Caroline dealing with the meat while Steve "helps." At least he's enthusiastic.
Some quality time with Cinema Hype before bed.
Off to bed before I miss the West Coast deadline.
Getting on with it:
A rainy morning in Oakland.
The mural in progress at Lakeview Elementary School. Oakland is mural heaven--if there's a concrete surface, somebody's going to paint it. Most are representations of Lake Merritt (or Lake Merritt as New York, or Lake Merritt as Italy, or whatever), but there are others, too. I used to live right next to the overpass with giraffes on the columns.
Sticking a Netflix disc in the mail (if you must know, The West Wing Season Four, Disc Four, in which CJ's dad has Alzheimer's, President Bartlet invades Africa, Toby and Charlie get into a bar fight, and Josh tells Donna how amazing she looks).
My favorite Key mug, the People's Princess mug. I know I'm not alone when I say that I tend to hoard it.
Yoga! Those are my feet propped up against the wall. At the end of class, we lie on our backs with our feet on the walls, and it feels great.
Lunch: organic Indian food from the freezer. Peas, chickpeas, tomatoes, cheese, and rice. It looks less depressing if you put it on a plate. Really.
The Daily Show and knitting. I had essentially this same picture in October--same show, same pose, different scarf--but 20 minutes of fake-news love is what I do when I get home.
Hanging out in the magazine aisle at Safeway after going to the ATM.
Dinner at Koryo on Telegraph to celebrate my friend Luke's birthday. Korean food is the original small-plate cuisine combined with the genius of letting people pay to cook their own food. Tasty, though.
The birthday boy and me.
Caroline dealing with the meat while Steve "helps." At least he's enthusiastic.
Some quality time with Cinema Hype before bed.
Off to bed before I miss the West Coast deadline.
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