I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Seriously, the world loves me. I'm not sure why it does, but I love most of it right back. I love wrapping presents. Flowers are important. That TOTALLY wasn't me who prank called you, I swear. I love to grocery shop. My boyfriend loves to cook. I can't get enough of kissing him. My bicycle has streamers on the handles. I think if people wanna know about my faith, they'll ask. I look young, and sound old. I love chaos, so you'll always find pets and teenagers around my house. I always have at least one book in my purse. At camp in high school, I was voted "Most Talkative." UNANIMOUSLY. I dance at the slightest provocation. This blog is my mirror, my publicist, my calendar, and my most flattering angle. I am its pushy stage mother. And apparently, I'm important enough to get hate mail. Sweet.
*idly thumbs through a US Weekly, turning down the corners of the pages with people to be invited to the next party*
Dear Missy,
I'm well known for my love of animals. I mean, just check out my new rug. And I understand the need for a well-coordinated outfit. That's why all my cars are pink. But if you must chose between a flattering hue for you, and a flattering hue for the poochie, remember you (pay the people who) pick up his poo. He OWES you, sister.
I have an employee review this morning. I'm mentioned before that no matter how good a job I do, reviews always send me off into a tailspin of self doubt. The spiral ends with me picturing myself being homeless and alone. I don't worry about many things, but the things I do worry about, I can always spin them into picturing myself homeless and alone. It's like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon game. Yes, I do know I'm nuts, but that doesn't seem to help much in this case.
Yesterday morning, the lobby was a bit chaotic. There was a lot going on, and a lot of people wanted things for me, and the thought of letting anybody down was pushing me down that spiral.
And then suddenly, out of nowhere, a feeling of calm came over me. I'm a damn good receptionist. I'm not a perfect one, I do make mistakes. That prolly makes me more tolerable. Seriously, nobody likes perfect people.
And I feel ok now.
Or at least I did until the following exchange this morning with one of the guys who works with my boss.
"'Mornin!"
"'Mornin. Say, were your ears burning last night?"
"Er, no, why?"
"We were telling stories about you."
"Stories?"
"Don't worry, good stories."
"How is, 'she's great, give her a raise' a story?"
Saute leftover mushrooms in a pan with a few dollops of leftover cranberry sauce, and in another pan, heat up shredded turkey with a smidge of olive oil. Quickly fry some corn tortillas in olive oil, then set them on napkins to sop up excess oil. When everything is ready, spread the turkey and mushrooms on the tortillas, with optional traditional tostada toppings like cilantro and sour cream.
Sarah-Style: Festive Turkey Bowl
Start with a good sized microwave safe bowl, and add mashed potatoes. Throw in a layer of stuffing, then some turkey chunks. Top the whole thing off with gravy. Now sprinkle a thin layer of glitter over it, and garnish with ribbons.
She is perfect for quick errands, like beer or dog toys or sushi. Read here for the full story of how Nick pieced her together (I helped! With the stripping! Hee.). And Nick's very nice boss gave me a shiny new bell for it, yay!! It's just like the one I had when I was a little girl. I can't help ringing it often, it's so shiny and irresistable.
Okay, so I figured it will be cold enough outside to keep my gumdrops from melting, so I decided this would be the year to cover my house with gingerbread and icing. The gingerbread is baking in a pottery oven. I have a hose and a wet vac for the icing. But how do I get my pets and children to stand still long enough to get their edible costumes on?
Carnivourously,
U.G. Leigh Witch
*gingerly (teehee) sets the roof on her Mediterranean villa style gingerbread house*
*licks her fingers, then wipes them on a festive cocktail napkin*
Dear 'Leigh,
M'dear, you've inspired me. If I wasn't a wee skoosh afraid of you, I'd wanna bake with you. Do you find that sour strips or licorice laces make better hinges?
About your question. The answer is peppermint schnapps. In fact, this is a cure for many holiday problems. Just lace it with some chocolate sauce, get a bit in your young 'uns, and everything will work better. Don't forget to have a few yourself.
Adorably, Miss VJ
*sets the icing foundations for the guest house next to the jello pool*
*lays a gingerbread woman on a cotton candy towel next to it*
.... you're a bit hungry, and exactly 10 seconds after this occurs to you, a coworker walks out of the conference room, hands you a bag of chips, and walks on.
Merry That is a phrase my friends and I came up with last year.
I take no offense at either the greeting "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" but they are both a very one-size-fits-all sort of greeting. It's something you often toss out without any knowledge of the other person or what this time of year means to them. I take them in the spirit they are intended. I just wanted something a bit more personal. And I think it would spread more holiday cheer. I actually cried the first time someone sent me a Hanukkah card, that someone thought to acknowledge it's significance to me.
Merry That is what you wish someone once they've told you a little about their own celebrations. Merry That is about learning, not assuming. Merry That is about celebrating each and every one of us and what we bring to the worldwide party that is this time of year.
I like lighting the Hanukkah candles. I like sniffing the Christmas trees in the lot outside the grocery store. I like turning off all the lights except the ones on the tree and laying on the floor and seeing the shadows they cast on the ceiling. I like the first time I hear "Last Christmas" while I'm grocery shopping, the true kick-off to the season. I like giving in and opening all the presents on Christmas Eve. I like getting 28 e-cards from Colsy. I like watching the sunset on the Solstice and thinking about the light slowly winning out over the darkness. I like turning up "Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter of Zion" from Handel's Messiah and closing my eyes. I like gloating over the piles of gifts I've wrapped. I like unwrapping each tree ornament and seeing it's familiar shape. I like putting bows on Mau's head.
So please tell me. I want to hear from all of you. How do you celebrate? What are your family rituals? What little moments mean the most to you? What do you decorate with, eat, dance to? Is this a religious holiday for you, or simply celebrating the best in the human spirit? Tell, tell.
Dear Miss VJ, Question: Is it slutty to make out with one guy and then sleep in the same bed as another one? To complicate things: the first guy likes me, I like the second guy but he's in love with his bitch of an ex back home. Signed, Conflicted Coed in Connecticut
*taps a keg*
*ties a flannel around the waist and puts on some Lisa Loeb glasses*
Dear Conflicted Cutie Coed,
Girrrrl, I can help. I wrote my thesis on sluttiness. I got an A+ on it too, although I believe that reflected the quality of my research more than the quality of my writing. Tee hee. I miss college.
Miss VJ has two rules about what what's slutty and what isn't. First rule has to do with other people's perceptions, namely the two guys involved ('cause it really isn't anyone else's business). Being slutty is considered a breach of good manners, impolite, if you will. And the thing about manners is that it generally only dictates what you do in public. I'm rambling. Suffice it to say, unless you did it in full view of the other, no, it was not slutty.
Second rule has to do with you, and how you classify your own actions. To be 'slutty' really just means to imply an intimacy you don't actually feel, or to do something you don't really want to do for some ulterior motive. So lets break it down. First guy. I imagine you enjoyed making out with him or you wouldn't have done it. Sure, he does like you, but you didn't sign a contract. You kissed him. And nobody is going to understand a non-committal kiss better than a college boy. He's prolly just happy you kissed him. Calling you slutty for kissing anybody else is like me calling Heath Ledger slutty for kissing his wife. Just because one party wants a commitment doesn't mean they got it. You're totally in the clear. Second guy. Pretty much the same deal. Unless the first guy is his roommate and it was rubbed in his face, don't worry about it. You're a single girl, and as long as you're decent and polite about it, it's nobody's business but your own what you do and with who. As for how you feel about it yourself, well you acted like a girl who's a little conflicted in her feelings, which is what you are. No crime there, chica. It's easier to sort out your feelings if you're not complicating it with an unnecessary layer of guilt. As for the timing, as I take it these events happened fairly close together, it's prolly just a coincidence. I mean, do you kiss one boy and crash with another EVERY night? I'm guessing not, you'd never get anything done, and would prolly get a refund on your dorm rent. So go enjoy yourself. Kiss a cute college boy for me! No wait. Never mind. I'll do it for myself.
I am in a Christmas decorating quandry! A quandry! My strings of cranberries are wrapped around my gutters because I don't want to offend anyone with my tri-color icicle lights. Instead of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear", I have "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer". I made a gingerbread tee-pee, and instead of a nativity scene I have "Scenes from a Mall" done in play-doh. I also hung my mistletoe in my car.
I'm afraid that the Anti-Crannies and the Pro-Granny groups will be picketing outside of my window by the end of the week! I'm not exactly pro-Christian, but I don't want to be persecuted for my pro-pagan ways either. I consider Christmas to be one holiday that every culture has taken over in one way or another. Should I chuck all of the tinsel and decorate with camoflauge instead?
After all, I don't want to end up like this poor girl:
You're the angel that tops my tree, m'dear. So lets clear this up. It's a wonderful thing to learn about other people's holiday traditions and incorporate them into your own if they feel meaningful to you. But since when is it offensive to celebrate your own traditions? I realize some people take issue with the Christian church for various reasons(which certainly is their right), but most people who celebrate Christmas do it in a very secular way (just ask the Christians) and besides, to hold the entire European/American culture responsible is really just a form of racism, and worse still, it's just absurd. Anybody who gets offended so easily and needlessly doesn't deserve to celebrate anything. Perhaps their holiday sweater is too itchy.
Remember, you only have to listen to people who have something worthwhile to say. So go, celebrate your little heart out!
Adorably, Miss VJ
*twirls her dreidel*
*lights a St. Lucia wreath, puts it on her head and twirls*
I'm a "Christmas Reef!" Am I covered Starfish and Christmas Coral?
You scored as A Christmas Reef. You are a little pointless. You hang on the door. But you are friendly, and greet guests when they first arrive. You get a long with lights and ornaments. Stay away from Christmas trees.
Luca went to the dog park for the first time this weekend. He made lots of friends with the other owners, and even worked up the nerve to crawl out from under our chairs to sniff the other dogs. We played Luca-Fetch, which is to throw a ball, for him to run to it, tap it once with his paw and run back. He is very, very good at Luca-Fetch. It's very good exercise for everyone involved, and really makes you wanna take a nap. He's also very, very good at napping.
... to the parade balloons on TV, "The balls she's juggling are the size of an elephant, her arm is the length of three surfboards, would someone just get them a measuring tape already?"
......... complete strangers go to a lot of trouble to help you out, and even let you play with their puppy while you wait for a tow truck. Not everyone in the world is a good person, but you know what? Enough of 'em are.
(All is well, car is running, long and boring story.)
Sarah Smile - "Oh, did you guys want my coupon for 10 bucks off a turkey?"
Couple Behind Me - "Don't you want it?"
Sarah Smile - "Naw, we've already got a turkey. There was one already in our freezer when we moved in. At least, I think it's a turkey. It's all wrapped up in bags."
Couple Behind Me - *take coupon with fear in their eyes.*
.... not just to be alive, but for the life I have, simple, meaningful and joyous. Not just for my health, but for the health of people and pets I love. Not just for the food I have, but that I don't eat alone. Not just for the roof over my head, but that the love that fills my home right up to that roof. Not just for friends and family, but for the family who have become friends, and the friends who have become family.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, with much love from Nick and I, and our whole petting zoo.
(And by 'by request' I mean I asked Colsy what I should blog about next and she suggested the following.)
Holiday Phobias There's plenty of dreaded gift situations, like that year when everyone in our family gave each other flashlights. (And shockingly, this didn't turn into a lights out game of hide and seek.) Or when you have to meet your significant other's family, and it goes badly. I won't name names but there was the family whose ONLY idea of fun was talking about kitchen remodels (I didn't realize you could buy wall art painted entirely in shades of beige and grey, and I still don't understand why you would want such a thing), the raging alcoholics ("lets drive to another bar!", and the boyfriend's family who disliked me (I believe they thought I was too reckless and uppity since at the tender age of 23 I lived on my own, god only knows what sin and debauchery a young unguided girl could get into, to which I barely managed to not reply "exactly, that's just the point") yet gave me really expensive presents. THAT was awkward and annoying. Or when you get a sweet and well thought out present from someone you thought you weren't exchanging gifts with, and they aren't buying the old "I forgot your present at home" excuse.
Presents for animals for the holidays I usually try to get each of my pets a little something, but my fishtanks are getting crowded from all the plants and such, so perhaps this year I'll cook up some veggies for them as a treat. The other pets are easier to shop for, they always need new toys to keep them occupied.
Decorating with Animals First off, you gotta break up the heights of the furniture in any given room. Too many pieces of furniture at around the same height allows them to get up to speed. It's harder to knock over a Christmas tree if its in between two tall bookcases. It's harder to knock over a gingerbread house if its on a high shelf between a floor lamp and a loveseat. Second, you gotta make sure your holiday decorations aren't toxic. And don't leave baked goods to cool unattended if they have chocolate in them. Securely wrap any presents you wouldn't want a nosy cat or dog getting into. I assume Colsy meant the challenges of decorating with animals in the house, and not using animals as decorations themselves, but just in case, lets cover that briefly. Reindeer are inherently festive. Doves are messy. And never underestimate the holiday cheer that comes from putting a kicky scarf on the dog.
Next time, how to jazz up your Thanksgiving leftovers!
... for my puppy, a puppy so cute it almost blinds you. A puppy who tries so hard to be good that you almost want to console him when he messes up because he looks so heartbroken. A puppy that tosses his toys up in the air and then ducks to the side so they don't hit him on the head. A puppy who when his ears perk up, sometimes one flops over the top of his head like a little puppy comb-over. A puppy who bounces neatly in place like he's on a trampoline. (This will be hilarious when he weighs 150 lbs.) A puppy who had to wait for confirmation from me that it would be ok to step off our lawn. A puppy who is fast becoming convinced his name is PUPPY! A puppy who bats his toys around the floor like a cat. A puppy who actually tried to crawl underneath my butt in the vet's waiting room, for comfort. A leaning, facing licking, lovey-dovey snugglybear of a puppy.
Yeah, and all this time I thought it was something about computers. But this lady on the line, man, she's pretty insistent. We're a dentist office. She has PROOF. It says on her flyer, that she can see right now 'cause she's holding it, that this is the number for a dentist office in Iowa. That came as a bit of a shock. I live in Iowa. You'd think it would be colder. Huh.
Well, as she says, I'd better stop screwing around and put her through to her dentist. Maybe My Homie in Sales is really her dentist.
*evil grin*
Well, for today he is.
P.S. Unrelated, but since today is full of surprises, I wonder if I'm actually a rabbit.
... for, well, I bet you can guess this one. I'm grateful for Miss Kendra slaving over my gorgeous new template!
I love it. I want to hug it. I want to snuggle under it and eat jalepeno poppers. I want to pour hot water over it and drink it in my teacup. I want to wrap presents in it. I want to wash my face with it.
Don't you?
Don't forget to tell her how gorgeous she and this template are.
This makes 9 years in a row. *sniffle* Once again this year, I have the Turkey Flu. *nose dab* Turkey Flu, it's like the bird flu, just a LOT more specific. *cough* It only strikes once a year, only on Thanksgiving, and only me.
Sarah Smile: I could switch every computer on the second floor. I could take the picture of my boss's wife out of the frame, scan it, put the original back in, and post the copy on my desk. "That's my long lost sister."
Oh, I know. I know. And so of course I put the baby duck back in the cage and despite my heartbreak, managed to walk away. See, of all the animals in the world, I am meltiest for baby ducks.
I had a duck when I was a little girl, her name was Priscilla. I loved her, and she loved lettuce, and so we got along swimmingly (haha). And I would give anything to snuggle a widdle baby duck again, with their stubby wings and widdle slappy feet.
Yesterday, Nick and I did more cleaning and unpacking in one day than in the whole month we've lived in our super flying caravan. It's all about the motivation.
Jesse and Bethany were coming over.
We put all the DVD's back in their cases, tried to find the Bob the wooden pirate reindeer's missing antlers (50% successful) vacuumed up the top layer of cat hair and feathers, and baked pumpkin pies. We even put the bathroom door back up. 'Cause we love them, and 'cause we're fancy like that.
New Year's will find us in Ensenada Mexico! And by us, I mean my brother (and favorite vacation buddy ever) Jesse, his hilarious and adorable wife Bethany, Nick (I think we all know how I feel about him!) and me. And there is a slight chance we'll be joined by Bethany's friends, fellow bridesmaids from their wedding, who I adored on sight and had such a fun time with at the wedding, Cindy and Katie!
So much fun/tacos/dancing/horsebackriding/tequila/swimming/long walks on the beach to see the lion will be had!
... for new books of poetry, the contents of which I will be entertaining/boring you with, depending on your feelings about poetry.
No Loser, No Weeper
"I hate to lose something," then she bent her head "even a dime, I wish I were dead. I can't explain it. No more to be said. Cept I hate to lose something."
"I lost a doll once and cried for a week. She could open her eyes, and do all but speak. I believe she was took, by some doll snatching sneak I tell you, I hate to lose something."
"A watch of mine once, got up and walked away. It had twelve numbers on it and for the time of day. I'll never forget it and all I can say Is I really hate to lose something."
"Now if I felt that way bout a watch and a toy, What do you think I feel about my lover-boy? I ain't threatening you madam, but he is my evening's joy. And I mean I really hate to lose something."
Senses of Incecurity
I couldn't tell fact from fiction or if my dream was true, The only sure prediction in this whole world was you. I'd touched your features inchly heard love and dared the cost. The scented spiel reeled me unreal and found my senses lost.
Come, And Be My Baby (this one made me think of my Knickers)
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that'll burn Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass And you sit wondering where you're going to turn I got it. Come. And be my baby.
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow But others say we've got a week or two The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror And you sit wondering What you're gonna do I got it. Come. And be my baby.
This morning I went to a new gas station on the way to work. As I paid for the gas (plus a Sobe Elixir for me and a Mountain Dew for Knickers) I watched the cashier. He had a receding hairline, and long curly hair. He was a big guy, not so much fat, just big. He reminded me of Dog the Bounty Hunter.
But when he handed me my change, I was surprised to see his nails. His acrylic nails. Tasteful length, bight barbie-pink tips.
Sarah Smile: Ok, so tell me if I'm a dangerous freak. Luca has this spot of fur that looks SO soft and I want to touch it, just to see if it's as soft as it looks. But see, it's his widdle puppy junk. And that's not why I wanna touch his balls because they’re balls, its just that they look SO soft. Would that be crossing some sort of line?
Therese: *giggle* *laughing* *tries to compose self* ask the internet. *laughing out loud*
Sarah Smile: But if the answer is "Yes, you sicko," then I've told the whole internet.
Therese: This is true. It is crossing some sort of line if it makes the puppy feel uncomforta-- *overcome with laughter again*
Sarah Smile: *sigh* Oh well, his widdle puppy junk will be gone soon, so the issue will be moot. I'm a sick weirdo, aren't I?
Therese: *giggle* I think you'd be really disturbed if you touched the puppy junk and it... um... reacted. If you know what I mean.
Sarah Smile: Gawd, I'd be horrified. I think I'll just go knit something soft and leave his bits alone.
Therese: Wise decision. *laughing again* you could always *laughing* ask them *laughing* if you could *laughhhhhhging* keep it. You know, once it's severed.
First of all, this site. It's not exactly work-safe. It deals with crocheting and nudity, two very lovely things, and manages to make them both very unappealing. Which is, frankly, impressive.
Be sure to click on the various pictures on the right, to get the full benefit of the photographer's creepy commentary.
And don't get me started on the fact that I'm now aware that there exists such words as 'hairage' and 'nippleless.'
Who knew crochet instructions could get so dirty?
And to scrub out your brain after that, visit the blog of a very old and dear friend of mine, posting here as Gypsy Girl. You can rest easy in the knowledge that the words 'nippleless' will never appear there.
It's about this site that I mentioned in my last post. Where they take your loved one's dead body and press it into a diamond. So you can wear it. You can wear a dead body around your neck or on one of your fingers.
Seriously creepy, right?
Well, that was my first thought. And I still think that, that it's creepy, but hey. What burial practice isn't creepy? Having someone's ashes in an urn on your mantle? It's creepy if you think about it. We're just used to the idea. Dumping them off a boat to be fish food? Creepy. Putting someone in a box and letting them become maggot food? That's creepy. We just accept it because it's "natural." But hey, fossils becoming coal, and coal becoming diamonds is natural too, just not as common.
So yeah. I still think it's creepy. But I think dead bodies in general are creepy. Thank God there are people who don't. We NEED people like that.
... for MK sending me pictures of such extreme cuteness. Warning, your gums may bleed from all the sweetness in the image below. You ready? You sure? Ok.
.... for Advil. My bad shoulder is proving it's rep as my bad shoulder today.
Colsy discovered that my cat Mau has a blog. In Spanish, no less. Which proves my theory that not only does he understand human speak, he understands it in more than one language. Several if you look at the comments here. And speaking of that post, despite his attempts to hide our identities with book characters, I'm sure you can all tell that it's a conversation between Mau and I. That's the sort of thing we talk about all the time.
In case you doubt that is really my cat blogging, in case you think this is just a person who coincidently has the same nickname, I point you to the following evidence. On his profile he lists his interests as hip-hop, God and Surrealism. He likes the movie Groundhog Day and the music of Bjork. These are obviously the interests of a cat, particularly a cat who's been influenced by me.
And what really cinches it? He links to a blogger he calls Dulce. Now that surprises me a bit.
.... really wanted to talk about a show you watch, but were ashamed to admit you watch it? *sigh*
Poorjaedasheshouldhavefacedthesituationbetterbut thatmalemodelshouldhavebeenfiredforunproffesional conductmelrosescaresmeeugenaisfreakingadorable especiallyinthecommerciali'mrootingforcarideeshe seemssweetiwantthetwinstotieforthewin. Now lets pretend we never had this conversation.
Speculating on how you "would" have killed someone? Shame on anyone who indulges morbid curiosity and buys his book.
And while two perversions of justice never add up to justice, lets face it. The only trial that will be a bigger joke than OJ Simpson's was, will be the trial of whoever gets fed up with him first and shoots him in the face.
.... for a very nice compliment from Nick. At that bike parts sale, I was browsing through posters and asking him what he thought of various ones. He wanted to move on and look at bike parts, so he kissed my forehead and said to get whatever I wanted, that I had great taste in pictures. This was over a week ago and I'm still so flattered, since I've always thought that Nick has amazing taste in pictures (and music) (and girlfriends).
Also, I'm grateful that he's feeling better today.
.... why I have that old song 'tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree' stuck in my head? And why my speakers have crapped out so I can't drown it out with something, dear-god-anything, else?
I suspect that the engineers deliberately set up their new engineering wing up to confuse me. But ha! They don't know I have a map! I won it from Gollum that time I got lost under the misty mountains, trying to deliver the mail.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention. All the cubicle walls are mirrors.
... "Fortunately, I have one of those personalities where drunkenness doesn't really stand out. It looks remarkably similar to all my other moods, so no one would be likely to notice."
Ok, Now I've Totally Decided My Birthday Party Theme!
Huge hats, tequila, musical numbers, what's not to love?! I'd better get a bedazzler.
Another Possible Birthday Party Theme
Firstly, I have no idea what's up with the music in this montage, but it's a good collection of clips. It's also the only collection of clips on YouTube. Someone needs to get to work on that. Secondly, would it work as a party theme? Big knives, snakeskin vests, accents and beer?
Mau and Dulce continue to work well as a pain fighting team. Mau is better at sniffing out the hurty-spots, and Dulce has more patience and staying power about staying on them.
Today my research becomes personal. I'm not just chasing a Nobel Prize now. My poor Knickers threw his back out really badly yesterday, and he's at home.
I prescribed lots of cat snuggling, and put Luca in charge of licking his face every hour. Luca's a great face licker. Very enthusiastic about the face licking. In fact you gotta be a bit on your guard when you talk to him, he'll totally french you mid sentence.
I have great faith in this treatment. Any day now the government grant will come, and I'll use it to set up a holistic medicine shop that's really just a cat adoption/rental service. There will be lots of hammocks and reallyreally snuggly cats. I expect to see you all there.
Possible Birthday Party Theme?
Come dressed as your favorite character? Disco dancing? Fish for dinner? Do you like gladiator movies? Perhaps an inflatable slide?
Over the weekend, I was laying on the couch with a headache. Nick loaned me Dulce, who'd been purring in his lap. He draped her over my head, and within minutes, my headache was gone.
Ok, so one of the things Nick and I have been puzzling about since we moved across town is why we are suddenly never more than a block away from a bail bonds office. Seriously, go one block in any direction and you'll find one. (Incidentally, and possibly relatedly, go two blocks and you'll find an actual jail, but it's just a women's minimum security jail, and it's got pretty trees. It actually looks more pleasant than the nursing home next to it.)
It's a bit puzzling, since our neighborhood doesn't really strike me as the sort of neighborhood where a lot of bail bonds would be necessary. Certainly no more so than our old neighborhood, which had no bail bond offices. A store that sold both liquor and guns, sure, but no bail bonds.
Perhaps it's because there are so many, that they are getting competitive. As we passed by one on a bike ride this weekend, Nick pointed out their sign, stating that they were running a special.
A special. On bail bonds.
I wonder if that changed anyone's weekend plans.
"What are you doing this weekend?" "Well, I was going to be a law abiding citizen, but then I saw that they're having a special on bail bonds! Only 5% down! So I figure, what the hey? Say, what are you up to? They're doing a doing a two for one special!"
..... as watching an obviously gay estimator on Antiques Roadshow assess the worth of a man's large iron rooster. With a straight face! Nick and I looked at each other and grinned at the end of every sentence. "It has a very interesting texture." "It's worth so much because you rarely see one of this size, believe me, I've seen quite a few." "I collect roosters and I'd like to add this one to my personal collection."
I know. We're such children.
Also, I think I'll take my couch pillows on the show.
It appears we've been lounging on long-lost Kandinskys.
Sunday makes six months since Nick arrived, and I feel like I'm finally getting used to the tidal wave feeling of being this much in love with someone. *slow smile* It's a nice little life. We laugh a lot. It's pretty simple. It loses none of it's magic for being a simple thing.
I was always the sort of person who dutifully took my car back to the 'kart korral' thingie, thinking that it would be appreciated by the minimum wage earning student who's job it was to go get them. But then a bag boy told me it was the best part of his day, gathering the carts. He got to leave the store, his harping boss, customers who got nervous no matter how carefully he packed their eggs. He got a little time to himself and a chance to stretch his legs. He said it always went too quickly.
So now it's a sort of game for me, to leave my car in some far corner of the lot. So he gets to take a longer walk. I hope he likes it.
When I exchange stories with people about growing up among their siblings, I realize more and more that I had a rather unique experience, growing up with my brother Jesse. Not that we didn't fight, not that we didn't beat the snot out of each other on occasion, but by far, I remember laughing. Even as we slapped it out. We laughed a lot together. We didn't want anything at the other's expense.
I remember a time when our family was eating in a steakhouse, and Jesse ordered the lobster. The waiter tied a bib on him (this was the sort of place where they cut your tie off with rusty shears and tack it to the wall). The bib had some writing on it, and I asked Jesse to lean back from the table a bit so I could read what it said. He leaned back, and I could read it clearly, but a evil little voice in my head prompted me to ask him to lean back farther. He obliged. I repeated this a few times until the inevitable occurred. But even as he pulled himself back up, he was laughing. My parent's certainly weren't, but we were both laughing too hard to notice. He can laugh at a joke, even if it's on him.
Often, when I say that my brother and I were close in age and close in general, I'm asked if we had our own secret language, like twins sometimes do. The answer to that is no, unless you count American Sign Language, in which we learned the words "school," boring" and "yes" so that we could talk via the mirror that faced our school desks.
"School. Boring." "Yes."
To be honest, I'm not even sure Jesse and I understand each other all that well. We are, and always have been, very different sorts of people. I sure know I've puzzled him many a time. But we've always laughed at the same things. Even as adults.
Once on a shuttle ride between airports, Jesse pointed out that the spot under the bus driver's "Hello, my name is" plaque on the glass behind him was empty. I tore a page out of my journal and popped some gum in my mouth, while Jesse wrote SPANKY in huge letters. I stuck the gum to the back of the paper, and Jesse went up and leaned his hand containing the paper against that spot on the wall while he asked the bus driver a question about a terminal at the next airport. By the time he got back to his seat, we were both snickering so hard we were attracting attention.
Is this really all that funny? Prolly not. But we still laugh ourselves sick about it.
So maybe I'm wrong. Maybe laughter is our secret language.
Sarah Smile says: (discussing a resume that was turned in by a man who had the mannerisms of an exaggerated professional wrestler) And I'm sorry, but listing furniture moving as a skill, that IS funny.
miss kendra says: maybe it is a skill. i can't do it well.
Sarah Smile says: True. I refuse to do it for spiritual reasons.
miss kendra says: good plan
Sarah Smile says: I've discovered that a lot of things are against my spiritual beliefs. Waiting for more than 45 minutes to have my oil changed, for instance.
miss kendra says: i am obligated to buy something non-perishable if it's something i use and it's on sale. because it saves me money in the long run.
Sarah Smile says: I must buy the scraggliest plant on display. Always. So I tend to have a very scraggly looking window box garden, and I wish I could put out a sign that says, "They were totally worse when I got them."
Yep. We were walking past the pet store and used the excuse of getting a treat for out cats to go in and look at the kitties they have for adoption. After clamping the words "we'll take them all" tightly on the proper side of my teeth, we wandered through the fish section. We did sorta need a pleco for the tank in the bedroom. And then we saw the catfish. Nick had to have a bumblebee goby and I fell for a white and orange feeder goldfish. Five new fish later, we left.
30. George, the spotted catfish. 31. Ursula, the striped catfish. 32. Amelie, the goldfish. 33. Butters, the goby. 34. And we're still working on a name for the pleco. I kinda wanna name him Bob Dylan but we already have a finch named Bob.
And in case anyone is wondering/considering calling Animal Control, I'll give you the family roll call. The number isn't so scary once you know their names/that they aren't all cats.
Luca, great dane puppy.
Maximus, cat/ruler of all.
Dulce, cat/coffee sweetener.
Miss Cleo, rat/fortune teller.
Mick, parakeet.
Gillian, parakeet/Mick's boss.
Pierce, finch.
Willow, finch.
Hazel, finch.
Maddox, finch.
Meryl, finch.
Irving, finch.
Bevis, finch.
Bob, finch.
Bianca, goldfish.
Luigi, goldfish.
Jochiam, goldfish.
Wallis, goldfish.
Belinda, goldfish.
Rocky, goldfish.
Vinny, pleco.
Portia, zebra danio.
Alleris, zebra danio.
Siren, zebra danio.
Vladamir, zebra danio.
Anastasia, zebra danio.
Johan, zebra danio.
Pacific, beta.
Willzyx, beta.
I think I'll start telling people how many pets I have in terms of weight. Like, "I have 172 lbs of pet."
Nick bought Luca a pig's ear to chew on. I say specifically that Nick bought it, because while I had no objections, I certainly wasn't about to handle it in any way. I mean, it's got a VEIN running through it. EW.
Ew, ew, ew, ew EW.
Of course Luca loved it, and chomped away happily while we watched America's Next Top Model (which I like for reasons I can't explain, and I can't explain them because I refuse to examine them very closely).
Every so often he would pause in his chewing, look up at me thoughtfully, and then trot over and drop the pig's ear in my lap. And then look at me to gauge my reaction to his gift, his sharing of his treasure.
And so I tried very hard not to squeal as I jumped, flinging the pig's ear across the room without even touching it, by the sheer force of my jump. Fortunately for his feelings, he thought it was a game. Unfortunately for my nerves, he really liked the game.
..... "Lets never waste our time eating anything else."
Ladies and gentlemen, thanks to my sexy boyfriend, I have discovered Jalepeno Poppers. How have I gone almost 26 years without knowing such goodness existed? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME??? I mean, it's jalepenos. It's cheese. It's DEEP FRIED. You couldn't genetically engineer a more perfect food for me.
I've seen the light. I've converted. From now on, as much as possible, I shall subsist wholly upon these, our most holy food.
I was once riding with a tow truck driver blatantly run a red light, almost hitting two cars, then say "Opps. Well, if I'd killed you back there, your tow would have been free." I said, "No shit." He said, "I just wouldn't feel right about charging your next of kin, if you were dead and all. That wouldn't be right."
I told him he was scaring me and he laughed. I left fingernail marks on his armrest.
We arrived without incident, he unhooked my car and said goodbye. I said, "I hate you."
... for the deli down the street. Hot damn, can that guy make soup! His lentil or veggie with rice, so perfect, especially with half a roast beef sandwich and an apple juice.
And speaking of apple juice, I'm also grateful for Martinelli's apple juice in the apple-shaped bottles. Don't they just make you happy?
Sarah Smile - *blush* "Ok, please understand that we are appropriately ashamed of this, but with the move and all, we forgot to register in our new district and by the time we remembered it was too late and we couldn't figure out where to go to register anyway."
Coworker - "Oh. I understand."
Sarah Smile - "Yeah. Nick asked me where I'd gone before to register and I explained that every other time, I'd registered with one of those overly tan weirdos out in front of Target or the grocery store, you know, the ones that also want you to sign their wacky petition. But I haven't been cornered by one of the overly tan weirdos with a wacky petition in months. It's their fault really. The overly tan weirdos with a wacky petition have let me, and the country down."
I collect versions of the christmas song Silent Night. If you happen to have any, could email 'em to me? *bats eyelashes* If you do, I'll blow a kiss in your general direction.
Oh, and if anyone has these, on VHS or anything really, could you send me a copy? If you do, I'll do an entire post about how sexy you are.
Buddy in Purchasing - "Oh, I love your flower arrangement, all the white flowers in the white jug."
Sarah Smile - "Thanks, I got the orchids from a shop I really like, because you can buy by the stem, and the gerbera daises just came from the grocery store."
Buddy in Purchasing - "I really like how you put it together."
Sarah Smile - "Well, it's like the case girls on Deal or No Deal. When you're dealing with so many inherently pretty things, it's hard to arrange them badly."
I have this coworker. Maybe you know someone like her. She will occasionally come to my desk and ask me a question. After I answer (slowly, politely, clearly), she just stares at me, annoyed, then asks the same question again. Like she's haggling for a better answer. As if I can change reality for her.
It's the same pretty much every time. And this is not an exaggeration.
Her - "Has this package come yet?" *hands me an order slip*
Me - "No, not yet."
Her - "So. This package hasn't come yet?"
Me - "No. It hasn't come yet. The postman hasn't come."
Her - "Ok but they said this package is gonna be delivered here."
Me - "Well, as soon as it comes, I'll call you, like I always do."
Her - "You haven't seen it yet?"
Me - "I have nothing here for you. I have nothing here for anyone. I clear my desk of any and all mail every single morning. Nothing has come in. I haven't seen it. I will call you when it comes."
Her - "Ok well, I checked with Receiving and they said it would be delivered here."
Me - "Yes. I imagine it will be. And I'll call you when it comes."
Her - *shakes head angrily and flounces off*
Since it appears to not matter what I say to her, from now on I will only answer a question once. After that, I shall stick my hand in a swag candy bowl I got, and pull out a slip of paper and deliver one of the following lines.
"I like paint." "Seen any good music videos lately?" "Wanna bite of my flowers?" "I know, right? So I told him not to call me anymore. Seriously." "You know you can buy your cat a college degree online, right?"
I put in a couple photos to test. Jodie Foster (which I take as a compliment but boy, she looks really freaky here) and Allison Hannigan came up twice. I'd heard the Allison Hannigan thing before, but I always assumed I was being compared to her band geek character more than the actress herself, since when I'm excited I have a tendency to speak in her "and this one time, at band camp" rhythm. Lance Bass came up once. I wanted to shoot myself after that, but then Leslie Caron came up too, and that made it all ok.
But if I could pick someone to play me, I'd pick Maggie. Or Coco. Yeah. Coco.
Coco? Wanna play me if they ever make a movie about my life? It would be titled Coffee and Mayhem Upon My Return.
You know how they say that Thanksgiving is getting more and more overshadowed by the holidays on either side of it, Halloween and Christmas? That it's just an excuse to leave your pumpkins out, and a kickoff to Christmas?
Kinda makes sense in a way. It's not that we mean to leave it out, it just happens. I mean, just look at the score card.
Thanksgiving doesn't have the Great Pumpkin or Santa, to bring us presents.
Thanksgiving doesn't have pirate costumes or cute little elves.
Thanksgiving does have pilgrims and our own family members, two groups who for many of us represent a pretty mixed bag of virtues, ranging from from offensive to old-fashioned.
To my knowledge there are no Thanksgiving songs.
Thanksgiving does has food, and who doesn't love that? But lets face it, most of us aren't one bad harvest from starvation. Most of us have the opposite problem. So the meaning isn't quite the same.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Halloween and Christmas are wrong in any way. They each have a meaning and a magic all their own. But Thanksgiving is a subtle holiday. The only way to show that you are celebrating it is to have an attitude of gratitude. It's actually somewhat difficult to find ways to show that attitude, and it's not always easy to spot. And so in the spirit of the season, each day until Thanksgiving, I will list one thing that I'm grateful for. Feel free to join me.
Today I'm grateful for webcams, and the feeling that my Ikey is sitting right in front of me as he reads me a story from his dream journal.
From a tiny French woman who called it, "my ladieeesss." And then I promptly lost it somewhere in the bike swap meet grounds at the velodrome, when it's sleeve tore and it fell, unnoticed. *sob*
