Here is my recollection of the first time I heard three non-carol, non-traditional Christmas songs. Funny how some songs, you just remember the first time, always. Kind of like some people--you remember exactly how you met them. Others seem to just kind of appear out of nowhere into the fabric of your life.
5. "Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth" by David Bowie & Bing Crosby. I first heard this just last year. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. N showed it to me. Seriously?!? David Bowie singing a Christmas song? With a straight face, and maybe with a little meaning, due to his son.
4."Christmas Shoes" by...I don't know. I always think of this as the "Oh no! Not the shoe song again!" song. I first heard it in 2002, when I was living with Jennster. The first time you hear it, it kind of tugs on your heartstrings a little, but every time thereafter it seems like a Kenny G/Kenny Loggins mishmash of ultimate cheese that turns out a little more moldy/smelly than you wanted it to be. I think the message is good, but one where a little goes a long way.
3. "Last Christmas"
by Wham!, I was sixteen. I was in my room, laying on my bed, thinking teenage thoughts. I remember when I heard it the first time, I thought the song was sooooo
hilarious. It was an awesome combination of petulant,
feeling-sorry-for-myself, and hopeful-just the right mix to perfectly
appeal to a teenager. Now the song just makes me a little sad.
2. Betelehemu - BYU Men's Chorus. I don't remember when this began to be
a staple in the house, but I remember the first time I really paid
attention to it. I was about fifteen. I remember thinking that the soloist had the second most beautiful high man's voice I'd ever heard (the first belonging to the person who sings the solo in "Lechaim" in the soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof). Now the most beautiful high voice belonging to a man is a tossup between a Korean guy and a Japanese guy. Ask me if you want details. Every year I drag this one out for about a week and listen to it nonstop. It's really different to listen to different versions of it, too...but this is the one I heard first, and I love it best.
1. "All I Want For Christmas" by Mariah Carey. I was trying on jeans at the brand new Gap in the Riverwoods mall. I think I was about...hmmm...fourteen or fifteen at the time. At the time I remember being slightly perplexed at the number on the inside tag of my jeans. (I was even more perplexed when, ten years later, I tried on jeans at a different Gap...I was the same size, and the size on the jeans was half the number it was back then!) After that, I heard it everywhere. Everywhere. At the time I didn't really get the song...I mean, I liked that it was bouncy and stuff, but the idea of wanting one person for Christmas when you could have, say, a cell phone, or a bass guitar, or any other thing a girl that age could possible dream of. Dreaming for boys for Christmas was just not on my radar back then.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
streaks
On Wednesday night I put some bones in to make broth with. On Thursday night I made soup. I was chopping up some onion and after only two cuts my eyes started watering. I didn't even dice the onions at all - just sliced them into huge chunks, and my eyes were streaming by the time I was through.
I'd forgotten that I'd put on mascara at work. I'm so used to not wearing makeup that this business of wearing it has led to a few embarrassing situations - in my book, far more embarrassing than not wearing it.
Anyway, I was feeling kind of sad anyway, so it seemed perfect that I should have the excuse of the onion to cry.
TANGENT: Two weeks ago I cut onion on purpose so I could have an excuse to cry. I guess if you see me in the store toting a bag of onions, it's a pretty safe bet I'm going to be an epic mess of misery in the very near future and I might need you to grab me and give me some sound advice and make me put the onions down.
I went to the store, intent on zooming in and out. (I'd used all the onion, but I guess the good news is that I didn't have "onion" on my list - though in retrospect, I probably should have put it there...) Normally I don't even pay attention to anything except the produce when I'm in the store and I don't expect people to pay attention to me either, but this time, I'd been in the store for all of two minutes before I started getting looks. I was in "groc mode" and didn't want to bother to interpret, but after a few more minutes of more looks I put my hand on my face and realized that there was a trail of grime on my cheek.
Great. I had no idea how I looked - no clue if there were two blackish brown streaks down my cheeks or if all I could feel was residue and I was really fine. I swiped at my face, and sure enough, little bits of black came off on my fingertips. I cleaned up as best I could, forgetting (of course) that there actually was a compact in my purse...and after that I looked down at myself. I suddenly had this nightmare that I'd left the house undressed. Or at least, seriously underdressed. I guess that's the good thing about winter in the NW - you don't have to worry if you put on clothes or not, because it's so cold you'd immediately notice if it weren't the case. But I panic easily sometimes when I'm already in a self-conscious situation, which of course makes the situation even worse.
In one of my all-time favorite anime series, the girl's mentor (because of course her mother passed away when she was very young, as happens to almost all anime characters) was teaching her about applying makeup. She said makeup is like armor - if you're wearing it, you can't cry or the mask will be cracked and they (the enemy) will know that you are weak. Seems like an anti-protection, like...why put something on your face if it's a giveaway that something is wrong and you can't control it?
Beware of makeup. Beware of makeup streaking. Beware of venturing out into the world with makeup streaks you didn't know you had. Beware of strong onions.
I'd forgotten that I'd put on mascara at work. I'm so used to not wearing makeup that this business of wearing it has led to a few embarrassing situations - in my book, far more embarrassing than not wearing it.
Anyway, I was feeling kind of sad anyway, so it seemed perfect that I should have the excuse of the onion to cry.
TANGENT: Two weeks ago I cut onion on purpose so I could have an excuse to cry. I guess if you see me in the store toting a bag of onions, it's a pretty safe bet I'm going to be an epic mess of misery in the very near future and I might need you to grab me and give me some sound advice and make me put the onions down.
I went to the store, intent on zooming in and out. (I'd used all the onion, but I guess the good news is that I didn't have "onion" on my list - though in retrospect, I probably should have put it there...) Normally I don't even pay attention to anything except the produce when I'm in the store and I don't expect people to pay attention to me either, but this time, I'd been in the store for all of two minutes before I started getting looks. I was in "groc mode" and didn't want to bother to interpret, but after a few more minutes of more looks I put my hand on my face and realized that there was a trail of grime on my cheek.
Great. I had no idea how I looked - no clue if there were two blackish brown streaks down my cheeks or if all I could feel was residue and I was really fine. I swiped at my face, and sure enough, little bits of black came off on my fingertips. I cleaned up as best I could, forgetting (of course) that there actually was a compact in my purse...and after that I looked down at myself. I suddenly had this nightmare that I'd left the house undressed. Or at least, seriously underdressed. I guess that's the good thing about winter in the NW - you don't have to worry if you put on clothes or not, because it's so cold you'd immediately notice if it weren't the case. But I panic easily sometimes when I'm already in a self-conscious situation, which of course makes the situation even worse.
In one of my all-time favorite anime series, the girl's mentor (because of course her mother passed away when she was very young, as happens to almost all anime characters) was teaching her about applying makeup. She said makeup is like armor - if you're wearing it, you can't cry or the mask will be cracked and they (the enemy) will know that you are weak. Seems like an anti-protection, like...why put something on your face if it's a giveaway that something is wrong and you can't control it?
Beware of makeup. Beware of makeup streaking. Beware of venturing out into the world with makeup streaks you didn't know you had. Beware of strong onions.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
sad rain
the rain's comin' down
all around this place
it's so cold and wet
on my tired, worn face
and i'm wondering
if it's all worthwhile
if i'll ever find
comfort in my style
and my eyes are closed
and i hear the drum
of the drops all round
steady as they come
i breathe in the damp
there's no lightning flash
as the world moves on
cars make puddles splash
and i wonder if
it'll ever stop
will it cover me
little drop by drop
will my tears blend in
'til I wash away
does the sun exist?
no, dear - not today.
all around this place
it's so cold and wet
on my tired, worn face
and i'm wondering
if it's all worthwhile
if i'll ever find
comfort in my style
and my eyes are closed
and i hear the drum
of the drops all round
steady as they come
i breathe in the damp
there's no lightning flash
as the world moves on
cars make puddles splash
and i wonder if
it'll ever stop
will it cover me
little drop by drop
will my tears blend in
'til I wash away
does the sun exist?
no, dear - not today.
Southern Utah
There are a few things about Southern Utah you might not know. Chances are if you are reading this blog you know them, but I'll share anyway.
1.There's a mini monsoon season every year; usually it's a week and a
half the back half of August, but this year some of it came a little
early. It rains some places, hard, and not in other places. (See left.) 2. There are lots of sheep here. I was surprised how big they were. Look at the size of that thing's head! I was surprised to glance out the window and bam: SHEEP FACE, right in my face. (Okay, a few feet of air and some glass and some metal separated us, but I think that is the closest I had ever been to that many sheep.) Except maybe last year at the Puyallup fair, but most of those were lambs. By the way, people who take care of sheep dominate Southern Utah. Sheep peeps rock. (I come from a long line of sheep peeps.On both sides. And yet I don't like mutton...)
3. If you drive down the road, the scenery changes. If you start near Salt Lake, and go south for a couple hours, you see what's left. And then if you drive for another little while ("How long is a little whiiiiiile?") you see something like what's right. 
4. And then the scenery really changes a couple hours after that - from regular colored mountains to red plateaus and piles of rock. Southern Utah is like a geological paradise. Maybe that's why my grandpa, who grew up in the area, decided to pursue geology as a course of study and then, later, his career.5. And this is a beautiful, typical Southern Utah in August cloud. Look at the height, the variation of color...it's "It Looked Like Spilt Milk" at its finest. It was a lot more impressive in person, I assure you - but I couldn't resist sharing it just to preserve the memory.
Friday, October 12, 2012
This Week
This week I:
1. Made my first cold call.
2. Bought a pair of Frye boots.
3. Went on a 9 mile bike ride
4. Moved several boxes.
5. Lived with a married couple who were not related to me.
6. Received word that I got my first deal. (Not as a result of a cold call, though.)
7. Admitted to myself that I have a crush on basically all of the security guards at work. But I have a soft spot for one in particular. Even if he does call me ma'am.
8. Ate Turkish bbq
9. Survived longest, most humid bus ride of my life (most of it without a seat)
10. Bought a ticket for a 6:30 am flight (For work. You all know I would never ever do such a thing to myself voluntarily.)
SOTW: Tim Easton's Next To You and Taio Cruz' Break Your Heart.
1. Made my first cold call.
2. Bought a pair of Frye boots.
3. Went on a 9 mile bike ride
4. Moved several boxes.
5. Lived with a married couple who were not related to me.
6. Received word that I got my first deal. (Not as a result of a cold call, though.)
7. Admitted to myself that I have a crush on basically all of the security guards at work. But I have a soft spot for one in particular. Even if he does call me ma'am.
8. Ate Turkish bbq
9. Survived longest, most humid bus ride of my life (most of it without a seat)
10. Bought a ticket for a 6:30 am flight (For work. You all know I would never ever do such a thing to myself voluntarily.)
SOTW: Tim Easton's Next To You and Taio Cruz' Break Your Heart.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Looking For An Orange
I want a bright orange relationship.
Orange people are high-impact. They're smart, dedicated, sweet as the juice, with just enough tangy imperfection to make them the citrus they are. They come with a lot of relationship vitamins that keep things going smoothly. They grab your attention--mostly on the first or second time you talk to them. They wake you up, mentally, and when you wear them, you get looked at lots more often because it's the perfect shade for you (even though, chances are, you never would have tried it on in the store on first glance). They're interesting and interested. They talk and they listen. They wait and they push.
After being in a bright orange relationship, you never want to go back to pastels. Or dabble in earth tones. Or set yourself up with the high-maintenance jewel tones. You just want an orange.
Orange is a little intimidating because it doesn't go with everything, and not everybody likes it. It's eye catching and no-nonsense. There's no mistaking it; no other word for it, no substitutes, no rhymes. Orange is orange: necessary and unique.
There aren't very many oranges. They're few and far between. They don't apologize for who they are and they won't change to yellow or red if you ask them. Not that I ever would...because then I would no longer have an orange...and that's what I want. A bright orange relationship.
Orange people are high-impact. They're smart, dedicated, sweet as the juice, with just enough tangy imperfection to make them the citrus they are. They come with a lot of relationship vitamins that keep things going smoothly. They grab your attention--mostly on the first or second time you talk to them. They wake you up, mentally, and when you wear them, you get looked at lots more often because it's the perfect shade for you (even though, chances are, you never would have tried it on in the store on first glance). They're interesting and interested. They talk and they listen. They wait and they push.
After being in a bright orange relationship, you never want to go back to pastels. Or dabble in earth tones. Or set yourself up with the high-maintenance jewel tones. You just want an orange.
Orange is a little intimidating because it doesn't go with everything, and not everybody likes it. It's eye catching and no-nonsense. There's no mistaking it; no other word for it, no substitutes, no rhymes. Orange is orange: necessary and unique.
There aren't very many oranges. They're few and far between. They don't apologize for who they are and they won't change to yellow or red if you ask them. Not that I ever would...because then I would no longer have an orange...and that's what I want. A bright orange relationship.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Dreamscape
Just now I had a dream. (Keep in mind as you read this that it is 3:45am and I am not wearing glasses.This has not been edited.)
I had a deream that I was going somewhere. Eitiher LA or Seattle, I think. I decided to go last minute, and I was going to fly. (Must have been LA. I was going for an escape. I needed to get away from my situation as soon as possible. So wearing my trusty yoga pants and my in-n-out t-shirt, I went and got in my trusty car and drove to the airport (where, by the way, in the way that only dreams work, my car magically parked itself and disappeared). I got out, and I realized I had no luggage. I decided this was fine because I was, after all, just going for a weekend, and even though I didn't have all my medicine or a change of clothes or PJs or anything, I thought, I'm just going for a bit, somehow I'll be fine, and proceeded to get on the escalator.
Of course there was no security, so I went up the escalator and past the peple who help you board flights, and I didn't even sit down before I decided it was a mistake. The whole thing. I needed medicine, and I needed other stuff. Throughout my walk through the airport it had been niggling in the back of my mind that this was a stupid idea, but I over-rode it until after. I sat down and hadn't even put on my seat belt when for some reason I stood up and exited the plane, somehow intent on getting my luggage with my medicine in it.
I got off the plane. I was just going to go to the hotel and get my bag. It was already packed, because I had stayed the previous night at a cheap hotel. [Why hadn't I brought it with me?] So I left the plane, to get a drink, and then I decided, no, it's not worth going back, you don't have time before the flight leaves, so I headed back toward the tarmac. I had been on a small plane - the kind that only has three seats to a row - and as I trotted down the ramp toward the plane, I saw it take off, without me. I yelled angril at the traffic controller, Hey! I need to be on that plane! Are you going to stop it?
He started talking into his walke talkie and gestured to me that they would turn the plane around. I said, sir, I need my medicine, it's in the bag in the hotel that's attached to the airport. He just looked at me consideringly and asked me if I thought that I could be back in time...was it worth their while to turn the plane around for me. I assured him I would be back, even as I saw the plan start to slowly circle back around the windy U-turn path it would need to take to turn around and approach the gate again, and I immediately ran up the ramp to go to the hotel and get my bag.I wasn't sure if there was medicine in my bag, but I knew there was some in my car, so as long as I could get to my car, I'd be fine.
The hotel lobby was swanky. I went up to the front desk and said look, I need my bag, but I don't hav ea room key. (I was in yoga pants. Where would I have put the key?) and he just looked at me and said okay, we'll give you a key, but we only do this four times for customers. I said, okay, fine, and got my key and ran for the elevator. It was gold inside, with lit buttons in that goldy orange yellow hue backlit - you know the kind I mean. Anyway I was so exited that I didn't even push a button, and somehow five other people got off, at 9, 44, 63, and 83. I was on floor 84B. There were two towers to the hotel, apparently, and I was in B. I was so impatient to get off the elevator that I almost got off on 63 and 83, but restrained myself, in that jokey self-deprecating way I have. (i was defending my jumpiness to my elevator neighbors.) I rushed in and grabbed my trusty black travel bag, and then got in the elevator, where I was conveniently alone (no stops on the way down to hinder me from making my plane as it turned around expressly for me). I pushed the buttons, which had changed slightly. 84, and then there was a button that was kind of like a volume control button on a TV remote A was up, and B was down. but they were on the same button. I was having trouble just getting the "B" pushed. I got in the elevator and wanted to go to the lobby, and sure enough the elevator started moving, but it went down to floor 9. I wanted to go to 84b though! So I carefully re-touched the butttons and waited....nothing happened except the elevator went up and down a little, like it was burping.
Now in a panic, sure that I was going to miss my plane, I started pushing buttons like crazy, to no avail. I was stuck. Precious seconds ticked by, then minutes. I lunged out of the hotel lobby when finally arrived, and then started running for dear life for the gate, knowing in my heart that the plane was gone and they turned it around for nothing and every single one of the people on the plane would have been angry because even though the plane tecnically left me early (the stated departure time had not yet passed, and why would they leave knowing that one of the people wasn't on the plane, who had checked in and sat down?)
I was utterly dejected. I missed my flight, and I had tried so hard to escape.
Then I woke up. I felt sticky icky inside.
And I thought. And I thought some more.
And I realized it wasn't morning. And I realized I had a gigantic headache. And I realized that my dream made no sense.
First, I wasn't even clear where I was "escaping" to.
Second, my car magically disappeared, and turned into a hotel.
Third, I was so intent on my medicine in my bag that I left the plane....only I hadn't brought a bag with me in the car.
Fourth, I hadn't stayed in a hotel. I had just gotten in the car, parked, had my car magically whisked away by the parking elves (no, there was not valet parking), and had run inside.
So. I left the plane, and I had no money, no medicine, and no bag. Maybe I did this because I knew in my heart that without at least money and medicine, this escape would be deemed by any judge to be poorly executed and impossible to achieve. But something told me that this was the last plane to Glory, and that I was "reasonably there." And I left it for a nonexistent bag that was in a nonexistent hotel room. This thought was utterly horrifying. And I was so disgusted with myself that I had left my house totally unprepared. It made me think of the ten virgins parable. And it made me wonder, am I doing something in my life that I need to change so that I don't miss my escape plane from this existence? I don't want to miss my plane over, literally, a figment of my imagination.
So now I know: dreams make no sense. It was a failed dream escape. LA is definitely not my glory. And I still have that blasted headache, and I'm still mad that I left the plane for such a ruse. I don't think I would have enjoyed my trip much, even if I'd stayed on the plane. I think it turned out better that I missed it.
The weird thing, I know this dream was brought on by some holiday ticket trauma - I have to change my Chreetmat tickets after having bought them and I am nervous that I won't be able to in time (work peeps are holding up the decision. Yes, I had asked for time off, but for some reason they decided to tack on a holiday party the week before christmas...). And also the bed I am sleeping in makes me sleep more lightly and I have had weird dreams all week. But none that were as crazy as this.
Imagine missing your escape plane for a nonexistent bag! Although I don't know what I was escaping from, and I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do (except visit Kimmy and Marti). I think whatever I was going to do, luggage wasn't needed. I think that where I am going is back to sleep. I'm not leaving my bed, and I'm certainly not going to the airport. So I think I"ll just try to catch the train to sleep glory again and call what happened a dreamscape.
I had a deream that I was going somewhere. Eitiher LA or Seattle, I think. I decided to go last minute, and I was going to fly. (Must have been LA. I was going for an escape. I needed to get away from my situation as soon as possible. So wearing my trusty yoga pants and my in-n-out t-shirt, I went and got in my trusty car and drove to the airport (where, by the way, in the way that only dreams work, my car magically parked itself and disappeared). I got out, and I realized I had no luggage. I decided this was fine because I was, after all, just going for a weekend, and even though I didn't have all my medicine or a change of clothes or PJs or anything, I thought, I'm just going for a bit, somehow I'll be fine, and proceeded to get on the escalator.
Of course there was no security, so I went up the escalator and past the peple who help you board flights, and I didn't even sit down before I decided it was a mistake. The whole thing. I needed medicine, and I needed other stuff. Throughout my walk through the airport it had been niggling in the back of my mind that this was a stupid idea, but I over-rode it until after. I sat down and hadn't even put on my seat belt when for some reason I stood up and exited the plane, somehow intent on getting my luggage with my medicine in it.
I got off the plane. I was just going to go to the hotel and get my bag. It was already packed, because I had stayed the previous night at a cheap hotel. [Why hadn't I brought it with me?] So I left the plane, to get a drink, and then I decided, no, it's not worth going back, you don't have time before the flight leaves, so I headed back toward the tarmac. I had been on a small plane - the kind that only has three seats to a row - and as I trotted down the ramp toward the plane, I saw it take off, without me. I yelled angril at the traffic controller, Hey! I need to be on that plane! Are you going to stop it?
He started talking into his walke talkie and gestured to me that they would turn the plane around. I said, sir, I need my medicine, it's in the bag in the hotel that's attached to the airport. He just looked at me consideringly and asked me if I thought that I could be back in time...was it worth their while to turn the plane around for me. I assured him I would be back, even as I saw the plan start to slowly circle back around the windy U-turn path it would need to take to turn around and approach the gate again, and I immediately ran up the ramp to go to the hotel and get my bag.I wasn't sure if there was medicine in my bag, but I knew there was some in my car, so as long as I could get to my car, I'd be fine.
The hotel lobby was swanky. I went up to the front desk and said look, I need my bag, but I don't hav ea room key. (I was in yoga pants. Where would I have put the key?) and he just looked at me and said okay, we'll give you a key, but we only do this four times for customers. I said, okay, fine, and got my key and ran for the elevator. It was gold inside, with lit buttons in that goldy orange yellow hue backlit - you know the kind I mean. Anyway I was so exited that I didn't even push a button, and somehow five other people got off, at 9, 44, 63, and 83. I was on floor 84B. There were two towers to the hotel, apparently, and I was in B. I was so impatient to get off the elevator that I almost got off on 63 and 83, but restrained myself, in that jokey self-deprecating way I have. (i was defending my jumpiness to my elevator neighbors.) I rushed in and grabbed my trusty black travel bag, and then got in the elevator, where I was conveniently alone (no stops on the way down to hinder me from making my plane as it turned around expressly for me). I pushed the buttons, which had changed slightly. 84, and then there was a button that was kind of like a volume control button on a TV remote A was up, and B was down. but they were on the same button. I was having trouble just getting the "B" pushed. I got in the elevator and wanted to go to the lobby, and sure enough the elevator started moving, but it went down to floor 9. I wanted to go to 84b though! So I carefully re-touched the butttons and waited....nothing happened except the elevator went up and down a little, like it was burping.
Now in a panic, sure that I was going to miss my plane, I started pushing buttons like crazy, to no avail. I was stuck. Precious seconds ticked by, then minutes. I lunged out of the hotel lobby when finally arrived, and then started running for dear life for the gate, knowing in my heart that the plane was gone and they turned it around for nothing and every single one of the people on the plane would have been angry because even though the plane tecnically left me early (the stated departure time had not yet passed, and why would they leave knowing that one of the people wasn't on the plane, who had checked in and sat down?)
I was utterly dejected. I missed my flight, and I had tried so hard to escape.
Then I woke up. I felt sticky icky inside.
And I thought. And I thought some more.
And I realized it wasn't morning. And I realized I had a gigantic headache. And I realized that my dream made no sense.
First, I wasn't even clear where I was "escaping" to.
Second, my car magically disappeared, and turned into a hotel.
Third, I was so intent on my medicine in my bag that I left the plane....only I hadn't brought a bag with me in the car.
Fourth, I hadn't stayed in a hotel. I had just gotten in the car, parked, had my car magically whisked away by the parking elves (no, there was not valet parking), and had run inside.
So. I left the plane, and I had no money, no medicine, and no bag. Maybe I did this because I knew in my heart that without at least money and medicine, this escape would be deemed by any judge to be poorly executed and impossible to achieve. But something told me that this was the last plane to Glory, and that I was "reasonably there." And I left it for a nonexistent bag that was in a nonexistent hotel room. This thought was utterly horrifying. And I was so disgusted with myself that I had left my house totally unprepared. It made me think of the ten virgins parable. And it made me wonder, am I doing something in my life that I need to change so that I don't miss my escape plane from this existence? I don't want to miss my plane over, literally, a figment of my imagination.
So now I know: dreams make no sense. It was a failed dream escape. LA is definitely not my glory. And I still have that blasted headache, and I'm still mad that I left the plane for such a ruse. I don't think I would have enjoyed my trip much, even if I'd stayed on the plane. I think it turned out better that I missed it.
The weird thing, I know this dream was brought on by some holiday ticket trauma - I have to change my Chreetmat tickets after having bought them and I am nervous that I won't be able to in time (work peeps are holding up the decision. Yes, I had asked for time off, but for some reason they decided to tack on a holiday party the week before christmas...). And also the bed I am sleeping in makes me sleep more lightly and I have had weird dreams all week. But none that were as crazy as this.
Imagine missing your escape plane for a nonexistent bag! Although I don't know what I was escaping from, and I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do (except visit Kimmy and Marti). I think whatever I was going to do, luggage wasn't needed. I think that where I am going is back to sleep. I'm not leaving my bed, and I'm certainly not going to the airport. So I think I"ll just try to catch the train to sleep glory again and call what happened a dreamscape.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Gum Wall
It's like an undersea coral reef parody
But with a little bit of sticky, and a big bit of icky.
Some sections seem rock solid, some look a bit drippy.
It's got a little smelly and the thought just churns the belly
Of all those chewers, turned to gluers...
___
Imagine one big fish
like the one in the Raw Shark Texts
scarfing all this gum
chomping it up
making a giant gumball
out of all the sticky icky
what about going to the trouble
of maneuvering around so many teeth
and working against water properties
just to blow a bubble
only to have a tiny jelly pop it
Friday, September 21, 2012
Five Each
Five Things I like about Being In Portland (no particular order)
1. Food carts.
2. Bridges (whee!!)
3. No sales tax
4. Friendly people
5. Living situation
Five Things I Cannot Stand about Portland:
1. Lack of air travel options/expensive fares/proximity to airport (this is so annoying it gets two spots)
3. Income tax
4. Expensive housing market
5. Lack of awesome grocery store in my neighborhood. Or even surrounding neighborhoods. ! I will waste away or grow like Jack Sprat's wife due to lack of groc options. (Those are not quite like stock options, but are nearly as valuable in some cases.)
1. Food carts.
2. Bridges (whee!!)
3. No sales tax
4. Friendly people
5. Living situation
Five Things I Cannot Stand about Portland:
1. Lack of air travel options/expensive fares/proximity to airport (this is so annoying it gets two spots)
3. Income tax
4. Expensive housing market
5. Lack of awesome grocery store in my neighborhood. Or even surrounding neighborhoods. ! I will waste away or grow like Jack Sprat's wife due to lack of groc options. (Those are not quite like stock options, but are nearly as valuable in some cases.)
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
LA Same-bots: even the radio
It was my opinion when I lived in LA that everything was the same.
Everybody was trying to be (a) skinnier, blonder, browner, manscaped, landscaped, toned, tweezed, and whatever else have you. Even the palm trees, which were peppered along at mostly regular intervals.
Everybody drove BMWs, Lexuses, or Mercedes. (Whether they could afford them or not, and if they didn't drive one, they wanted one.) Seriously, every other car it seemed was one of those three makes.
Everybody drove on the same freeways. Everybody talked about the same stuff. (Celebrity gossip, mostly). *this is an injustice and I know it, but I'm being hyperbolic to emphasize my point.
Last week, when I was back in LA, I rented a car. I was on the road for maybe ten hours of the 80 I spent there. And the more I drove, the more my mind was numbed. But before the numbness came a concern for the musical souls of everybody in the barren wasteland that is LA. It has its beauties, but those are for another post.
I was mournful because I had six presets, with six different stations. One was classical, and one was country. That left four. I listened to some classical, no country, and bounced around between the other four stations for awhile. I even spent a lot of time with the radio off, because I felt like Groundhog Day. I heard the same songs...over....and over... and over...until I just started keeping track.
I thought, okay, you'd think the Top 40 were the only songs allowed, that we were in some dystopian society. The music was so repetitive and became so lame in my mind simply because of the overexposure that I actually wished some teenage girl would come along and rescue me and the rest of the teeming metropolis from the horrid music.
Here's the count for you.
Pink - Blow Me One Last Kiss: 10, including switching away from it on one station only to hear it start up immediately after on two stations. IF I NEVER HEAR THIS SONG AGAIN IT WILL BE FAR TOO SOON.
Rihanna: Where Have You Been: 7 (The lyrics to this one are particularly inane, it seems. "I been everywhere, man, lookin' for you, babe. I been everywhere, man, lookin' for you babe." It just seems like, a mix of "dude" and "honey" that isn't remotely appealing. I mean, the sentiment of the song is nice on a flowery level (not that Rihanna ever gets flowery, but I do), but she would have been better saying, "dudney" or "dooney" or maybe "hondud" instead.
Calvin Harris (not the history teacher): Feel So Close: 2 (I actually like this song, so I'm not complaining, though I can only take about two listens before I'm done.)
Katy Perry: Wide Awake, 4 Seriously, enough enough enough!!!!!
Fun. Some Nights: 3 I could actually take a few more listens of this one.
Flo Rida: Whistle - 5 I love the whistling part, but seriously, the rest of it? This is the sad exception to the rule that any song that has whistling in it automatically gets bumped up 2 points on the out-of-ten cool scale. :( It's a sadness.
Demi Lovato: Give Your Heart A Break - 4 I remember the first time I heard this, I was like, oh, yeah, this is totally bubble gum, and then I got to one of the lines and I was like, WHAT? they put that in a song, unedited, for tiny children to hear? I was so disgusted I turned it off and subsequently switched the channel whenever I heard it, which is probably why the count on some of the other songs is so high. Life lesson: Do not be a Mickey Mouseketeer. You'll grow up really fast, always be under the spotlight, have screaming tweenage fans, and go from being all little girl to must-be-as-sexy-as-soon-as-possible in about three months. And then the chances are you'll wear crazy clothes that are (a) inappropriate and (b) age inappropriate on national television, or go crazy and shave your hair and have a complete breakdown.
Carly Rae Jepsen: Call me, Maybe - 3. This has got to be the stupidest song ever, after Rihanna's Umbrella, Flo Rida's Whistle, and all of the Black Eyed Peas songs ever made. (See Dysphemisms post.) Seriously, I understood the term "bubblegum pop" after I heard this song.
And then finally there are a couple songs I heard that I was actually GLAD to hear, but alas I only heard them once each.
1. OneRepublic: Good Life . This is one that is definitely in the whistle-makes-it-better category.
2. Train - Drive By. This one didn't jump out and grab me the first time I heard it, but now, I kinda like it. Ah, train, there are only a few songs of yours I don't like. Like Drops of Jupiter. Maybe that's the only one I don't like.
Gosh. It's late. (I'm on early bird time since moving to P-town.) There are so many more songs I want to write about. So I will, later. But I'm going to make a list of them now so I don't forget.
Mumford & Sons - I will Wait :)
One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful :(
Taio Cruz - Break Your Heart :)
Gotye - Somebody
Everybody was trying to be (a) skinnier, blonder, browner, manscaped, landscaped, toned, tweezed, and whatever else have you. Even the palm trees, which were peppered along at mostly regular intervals.
Everybody drove BMWs, Lexuses, or Mercedes. (Whether they could afford them or not, and if they didn't drive one, they wanted one.) Seriously, every other car it seemed was one of those three makes.
Everybody drove on the same freeways. Everybody talked about the same stuff. (Celebrity gossip, mostly). *this is an injustice and I know it, but I'm being hyperbolic to emphasize my point.
Last week, when I was back in LA, I rented a car. I was on the road for maybe ten hours of the 80 I spent there. And the more I drove, the more my mind was numbed. But before the numbness came a concern for the musical souls of everybody in the barren wasteland that is LA. It has its beauties, but those are for another post.
I was mournful because I had six presets, with six different stations. One was classical, and one was country. That left four. I listened to some classical, no country, and bounced around between the other four stations for awhile. I even spent a lot of time with the radio off, because I felt like Groundhog Day. I heard the same songs...over....and over... and over...until I just started keeping track.
I thought, okay, you'd think the Top 40 were the only songs allowed, that we were in some dystopian society. The music was so repetitive and became so lame in my mind simply because of the overexposure that I actually wished some teenage girl would come along and rescue me and the rest of the teeming metropolis from the horrid music.
Here's the count for you.
Pink - Blow Me One Last Kiss: 10, including switching away from it on one station only to hear it start up immediately after on two stations. IF I NEVER HEAR THIS SONG AGAIN IT WILL BE FAR TOO SOON.
Rihanna: Where Have You Been: 7 (The lyrics to this one are particularly inane, it seems. "I been everywhere, man, lookin' for you, babe. I been everywhere, man, lookin' for you babe." It just seems like, a mix of "dude" and "honey" that isn't remotely appealing. I mean, the sentiment of the song is nice on a flowery level (not that Rihanna ever gets flowery, but I do), but she would have been better saying, "dudney" or "dooney" or maybe "hondud" instead.
Calvin Harris (not the history teacher): Feel So Close: 2 (I actually like this song, so I'm not complaining, though I can only take about two listens before I'm done.)
Katy Perry: Wide Awake, 4 Seriously, enough enough enough!!!!!
Fun. Some Nights: 3 I could actually take a few more listens of this one.
Flo Rida: Whistle - 5 I love the whistling part, but seriously, the rest of it? This is the sad exception to the rule that any song that has whistling in it automatically gets bumped up 2 points on the out-of-ten cool scale. :( It's a sadness.
Demi Lovato: Give Your Heart A Break - 4 I remember the first time I heard this, I was like, oh, yeah, this is totally bubble gum, and then I got to one of the lines and I was like, WHAT? they put that in a song, unedited, for tiny children to hear? I was so disgusted I turned it off and subsequently switched the channel whenever I heard it, which is probably why the count on some of the other songs is so high. Life lesson: Do not be a Mickey Mouseketeer. You'll grow up really fast, always be under the spotlight, have screaming tweenage fans, and go from being all little girl to must-be-as-sexy-as-soon-as-possible in about three months. And then the chances are you'll wear crazy clothes that are (a) inappropriate and (b) age inappropriate on national television, or go crazy and shave your hair and have a complete breakdown.
Carly Rae Jepsen: Call me, Maybe - 3. This has got to be the stupidest song ever, after Rihanna's Umbrella, Flo Rida's Whistle, and all of the Black Eyed Peas songs ever made. (See Dysphemisms post.) Seriously, I understood the term "bubblegum pop" after I heard this song.
And then finally there are a couple songs I heard that I was actually GLAD to hear, but alas I only heard them once each.
1. OneRepublic: Good Life . This is one that is definitely in the whistle-makes-it-better category.
2. Train - Drive By. This one didn't jump out and grab me the first time I heard it, but now, I kinda like it. Ah, train, there are only a few songs of yours I don't like. Like Drops of Jupiter. Maybe that's the only one I don't like.
Gosh. It's late. (I'm on early bird time since moving to P-town.) There are so many more songs I want to write about. So I will, later. But I'm going to make a list of them now so I don't forget.
Mumford & Sons - I will Wait :)
One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful :(
Taio Cruz - Break Your Heart :)
Gotye - Somebody
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Chelan in the Springtime
About half a year ago (yes, I am running behind on my blog) I went to Lake Chelan. It's gorgeous.
So I thought I'd share some of its pulchritude with you.
Left: The tree at the top makes me think of the oft-lamented Seahorse Tree. Also, I love how springtime clouds can be white and gray at the same time.
Below, Top Right: A bunch of bare apple trees. And some getting-green hills. And some grey not-so-puffy clouds. And a surprisingly blue sky. And half a stOP sign. 
Below, Top Left: Blossoms at the park. :)Below, Right: The town has in the last fifteen years or so become the Washington version of Napa. (I think that Napa snobs would be very upset at the comparison...but if the grape ferments...)
Below, Left: Low lake. Wonder what it looks like now?
Left: Saw Easy Street and just had to have a pic.Right: View of one of the bridges over the river.
Left: All that grey fuzzy looking stuff is actually a conglomeration of apple tree branches. Acres and acres of them. From a distance they look like warm fuzzies. (well, at least fuzzies. The warm is automatically implied because I'm me. :) )
Right: Here's another bridge.Right: The view from my balcony at 5:45 am. (There was a "fun run" that I was in charge of that began at six... Ugh.)
If you drive up the mountain approximately ten miles, the view of the river is gorgeous. I parked my car in the scenic pullout and climbed a little way down the hill (I was in dress shoes, so I was a sissy and didn't go much further). I turned around and looked back, and my car looked like a car ad...the kind of shot they do at the end of the commercial when they've shown the "Closed course. Professional driver. Do not attempt." in tiny letters at the bottom. Here's the view. I can't really do panoramic on the blog without smooshing the pic together, but hopefully from l-r you'll be able to see how pretty it was, even in pre-bloom springtime.
The first one is on the approach; the rest are the 180 view from where you see the car.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Just Stick It On Your Head...with a side of pancake.
Me: Hi, IGPM! How are you? Are you having a good day?
IGPM: I'm fine. Guess what? Mom made a plan. It's a plan to have pizza every Friday for dinner.
Me: That sounds like a yummy plan.
IGPM: It is. You should come have some pizza on a Friday sometime.
Me: Well, I'd love to, but I can't for awhile, because I'll be moving. Remember that I'm moving?
IGPM: Yes, I knew that. (pause. Then, hopefully:) You should stick the idea on your head though. It's a good idea!
Me: (trying not to laugh) Yes, it is a good idea.
IGPM: You shouldn't forget it. You should come on a Monday sometime, so you can stay with us and have pizza on Friday. You should come at...(another lengthy pause, with mom coaching in the background) Christmas!! Yes, you should come at Christmas.
Me: I'd love to, honey, but we'll have to see. [Ick. I hated it when older people told me that when I was growing up. I inwardly cringed as the words left my mouth.]
IGPM: Just remember to stick it on your head. (then, without prompting:) I'll remind you every time in case you forget!
SO CUTE.
Even more cute was when he looked at me with a look so full of love it made my heart sing a little and said, "You are yummy as pancakes!"
That was quite possibly the nicest compliment I've ever been paid.
IGPM: I'm fine. Guess what? Mom made a plan. It's a plan to have pizza every Friday for dinner.
Me: That sounds like a yummy plan.
IGPM: It is. You should come have some pizza on a Friday sometime.
Me: Well, I'd love to, but I can't for awhile, because I'll be moving. Remember that I'm moving?
IGPM: Yes, I knew that. (pause. Then, hopefully:) You should stick the idea on your head though. It's a good idea!
Me: (trying not to laugh) Yes, it is a good idea.
IGPM: You shouldn't forget it. You should come on a Monday sometime, so you can stay with us and have pizza on Friday. You should come at...(another lengthy pause, with mom coaching in the background) Christmas!! Yes, you should come at Christmas.
Me: I'd love to, honey, but we'll have to see. [Ick. I hated it when older people told me that when I was growing up. I inwardly cringed as the words left my mouth.]
IGPM: Just remember to stick it on your head. (then, without prompting:) I'll remind you every time in case you forget!
SO CUTE.
Even more cute was when he looked at me with a look so full of love it made my heart sing a little and said, "You are yummy as pancakes!"
That was quite possibly the nicest compliment I've ever been paid.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Decisions
Where to go:
Turn right or left, go fast or slow.
Jet to New York, Paris, or Moscow.
To the groc'ry or to the old fort,
Head for bed or see some sport.
What to Wear:
Paisley or plaid, blue-black or brown.
Yes to the raincoat, or else I'll drown.
Sandals or peeps, stilettos or boots
Pants with some stretch? Or seersucker suits?
Where to Live:
Mountains required, no roaches please.
A pantry, garage, and A/C? Don't tease!
Not too hot or too cold, and never, ever, live with mold.
A washer and dryer in a place not too old.
Where to Work:
Respect and appreciation too.
Yes to the desk job, no to the zoo.
Portland or LA or DC, Seattle
Deciding who's boss is always a battle.
Turn right or left, go fast or slow.
Jet to New York, Paris, or Moscow.
To the groc'ry or to the old fort,
Head for bed or see some sport.
What to Wear:
Paisley or plaid, blue-black or brown.
Yes to the raincoat, or else I'll drown.
Sandals or peeps, stilettos or boots
Pants with some stretch? Or seersucker suits?
Where to Live:
Mountains required, no roaches please.
A pantry, garage, and A/C? Don't tease!
Not too hot or too cold, and never, ever, live with mold.
A washer and dryer in a place not too old.
Where to Work:
Respect and appreciation too.
Yes to the desk job, no to the zoo.
Portland or LA or DC, Seattle
Deciding who's boss is always a battle.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Frolicking Foursome
Here is a little story for you.
Once upon a time, after the horse races, some good friends decided to go to Dairy Queen for some light summertime refreshment of the beverage sort. One of them ordered chocolate chunkiness. One of them ordered a smoothie. One of them ordered something else that was unremarkable. And one of them ordered something pretending to be lemonade but was actually a sugarbomb.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then they got in the car and listened to Gotye and other angry girl music. As they whizzed down the road with the windows down and the speakers up, they passed beautiful forested properties and some really big houses which seemed really too big to ever want to live in but seemed majestic and somehow covet-worthy all the same.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They came across fields of marshmallows but elected not to stop and pluck them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then, after borrowing some jackets in various shapes, fabrics, and sizes (because all good Grandmas have a stock of the essential things in life for when their grandkids come by unannounced), the Foursome set off to frolic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They ended up passing the Wicked Metal Gates, and stopped to do an experiment to see what it would feel like to be wicked, and/or metal, gates. But the gates couldn't keep them from the river, with its sandstone bottom and tiny jumping fish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Armed with only flip-flops (3), flats (1) sunglasses (3) jackets (4) and smartphones (1) as weapons, they marched into the forest, listening to music and calling out to each other as they made their way toward the river.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they arrived there was plenty to do:
1. skip rocks 2. ponder 3. take pictures of themselves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then one of the foursome fell into a trap: unwarranted preening via picture. She got what she deserved because one of the other four snuck up on her and poked fun. It happened so easily...like one...two...three.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then they breathed the joy of life into the river and a blanket of mist arose, spreading quickly, like a ray of sunshine or a patch of morning glory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And the foursome gloried in the strength of summertime sunsets, fantastic friends, and rambling rivers, and celebrated the mist, the season, and their camaraderie with yoga moves, conjuring tricks, and other serious nonsense. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After their River Respite, the little band wandered back to the road. At one point the tiny path seemed to converge on itself and go only in circles and the merriment was momentarily dampened as memories were consulted and the Road More Traveled was found. There were biting bugs and snagging shrubbery and beautiful berries involved. The one in the dress decided that forest-wandering perhaps is not best done in a skirt.
The girls trundled along the road until they came to a bridge - the gateway to the field. They couldn't contain themselves, and right there and then, they began to frolic. It wasn't the frolic of small goats, or fireflies, schools of fish, or flocks of birds darting in flight. It was somewhere between galloping and leaping and cavorting and every other good movement descriptor thingie. And then they moved on, and frolicked in the field, which you can see in all its blurry glory to the right, and if you look past the road below, you'll be able to see it. It was mown down to about 9" tall, mostly, and then there was a perimeter that had been mowed further - a single mower-width of shorter grass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The girls abandoned the pavement and were leaping about, trying to click their heels in front of them (awkward and not very safe), behind them (foolish, but quite entertaining to watch) and to the side (that really works best).
Two of them went ahead, shouting as they ran toward the river, their enthusiasm making their companions, who trailed behind talking of childhood memories, smile. When they got to the river there were even more adventures than before: there were periwinkles to be found (tiny bugs) and tiny fish jumping. The girls waded into the river, letting the biting cold water wash over their hot feet, marveling at the efficiency of entropy. (See fallen tree trunk, below.) Turns out they didn't need the coats - the temperature was perfect.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the stars started to come out and the moon rose, the girls turned for the road, herded by the park ranger. They were done frolicking - now they walked sedately. No trip-trapping over the bridge...it was more like trailing as they ran out of steam. (Well, only one ran out of steam...no prizes if you guess who.)
Then they went back to Grandmother's House, where they were fed and watered, and quite happily stayed to talk about China and Chairman Mao, adopted babies, and family news.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Retracing the curves they had previously traversed, they were full of quiet content. One of them even fell asleep in the backseat, just as she would have when she was a little girl. It was cute. And then the evening was over and the realities of life crept back in, just a little bit. But the Frolicking Foursome had made one darn good idyllic summertime memory in the process.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Camptown Races
So...there was no camp, and no town. But there were some races. I was thinking more of the line, "Somebody bet on the bobtailed nag, somebody bet on the grey."
Here we are in front of the Emerald Downs sign. (JT, me, EC.) Yay! I wore a dress and a hat in honor of my first time at the races. They actually sold frou frou hats inside and I would have bought one but they all had sequins on them or feathers and I don't "do" sequins or feathers. Much. (As a side note, I suppose the best time TO "do" them would be with a hat, but alas, I did not capitalize on the "opportunity."
Top right: My open faced sandwich (interesting...it doesn't look much like a sandwich to me). The lady "did me a solid" and gave me a side of pickles. 1 (a)The trainers and jockeys get the horses ready. (See left.)
1 (b) Concurrently, the track managers do dust control with water trucks (right). It's kind of needed.
There are only about 20 minutes between races for everything that follows to happen, so they have to be kinda quick. (PS, I chose the grey to win. I'm a sucker for greys...but they never win.)
2 (a) The horses parade by, left. Look closely. (Past me.) Listen to the announcer in his half-British, half-New York twang. Choose which one you think is going to win. (I picked two winners, in a row, by the way. Tribaltikque and Quinette, icywi.) I'm standing in the grandstands...I thought they'd would be less bleachers and more seats, but maybe I've watched too many horse-y movies where the stakes were high to be in horse race reality.
3. The first race we saw was 1 mile. A mile is eight furlongs, in case
you were interested. The reason why this is important is because the
different race lengths mean they have to move the gate. To do so, they
get the huge truck (see?!?) and attach the gate to it. Then they move
the gate with said big truck and then they do this awesome backing up
thing. (Look at the perpendicular status. Those are some trailer-backing
skillz.)
4. Then they get on their trusty John Deere tractors to remedy the damage done by said monster truck wheels. They play funky music and have a real life bugle/trumpeter thing that is the perfect size for the BFG. PS, when they played songs I knew before the race, I picked winners. Maybe there's a corollary there.) 5. Then they somehow convince the horses to get boxed in.
6. Then they're off!
The whole thing took less than 1:38 for a full mile, and less than 1:10 for the six and a half furlongs. Unless you were the grey. Then it took more like 1:11.
Here they are at the finish.
Here's the winner!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)