I am really bad about balancing my checkbook. Just ask Chili. I have been putting it off for about 5 months. (I know!) At first I always have a good reason, in this case it was my Shakespeare "tour", and then no matter how many gaping hours of time I have ahead of me the job now seems too big and it gets away from me.
So tonight I told myself that I didn't have to do all of it, just do at least 10 minutes. About 30 minutes into it (Yay me, good girl!) I finally came to the straw that broke the camel's back. A deposit in May that I couldn't identify at all. The hell?!? Where did I get that money? Wasn't that about the same amount of money I paid to my student loan company? Why is it in the deposit column? It sounds so familiar but wouldn't I remember getting a freaking deposit like that?
Before I chewed my own damn arm off I decided to close the programs, sleep on it and see if it just came to me.
I checked this blog for May and Voici!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I am really bad about balancing my checkbook. Just ask Chili. I have been putting it off for about 5 months. (I know!) At first I always have a good reason, in this case it was my Shakespeare "tour", and then no matter how many gaping hours of time I have ahead of me the job now seems too big and it gets away from me.
Monday, August 28, 2006
No matter the award ceremony the Brits give the best acceptance speeches. They tend to be unwritten (though it's unclear if they are unrehearsed or unplanned in some way) and they kick off with a good joke, almost always acknowledge the rest of the nominees and then they wrap with something thoughtful and thought provoking. I just finished watching the good bits of last night's Emmies (hurrah for the DVR!) and I give you my homegrown transcript of Helen Mirren's acceptance speech for her performance in the miniseries Elizabeth I.
My great triumph is not falling ass over tit as I came up those stairs. If you saw the shoes I’ve got on you’d understand.
Um, you’ve seen many of the people up here on this stage already which is so exciting for us who’ve contributed to the piece so I’m not going to thank them personally. HBO obviously incredibly important, Channel 4.
I want to talk about writing because without the writing, you know, we can’t do it and especially us women. And I know that every one of these great performances by these great actresses in this category were revealed to us by some wonderful writing. Now women are 50% of the world’s population maybe more and, um, I know that there are many, many more brilliant performances by women of all ages and all races waiting to be revealed by some great writing so let’s look forward to that.
Thank you very much! Going to take my bloody shoes off now!
Yes, yes indeed most beautiful, talented and hilarious woman of well deserved accolades. That's not only the sort of performance I'm waiting to give (I really need to start performing more often) but the kind of writing I'm trying to do. Thank you for the focus, the direction and the inspiration.
Babies don't care if you shower, right?
I'm babysitting on Fri, for the workday part of the day so, you know, I have to be there when the adults leave for work, which translates to the time I would normally be leaving for work. And I have the thing about always needing to leave 50-100% more time to travel than one usually needs, especially when I've never done a trip to this neighborhood before. I'll be leaving about half an hour before I get up by the time I finish worrying about how to be on time. It's times like this I do wish I had a car. I could calculate this trip better with a car. Maybe.
So, it won't matter if I skip the shower in favor of walking and feeding the pets, right?
Thursday, August 24, 2006
This could, I suppose, be considered one of the hot people entries but I don't think of it that way. I've given you two versions of the image 1. because they were the only 2 versions I could find and 2. because I think that you see different things in the different depths. When this shot came out it was one of a few images in the ad campaign sprinkled on the sides of city buses. My bus is on the same route as a number of others and my route has the fewest actual buses of any route that skims that street so while letting these other buses pass I came face to face with this image, nearly life size, every day for months.
It never struck me as sexual, though in scrolling through page after page of photos of these kids I see that almost every post-18th-birthday press shot of them is meant to be sexual. Instead every time a bus drove them by me I was struck by both how much like one being they looked and by how alone that one being was.
I haven't kept up with the ladies since they started being billed separately so, unfortunately, I'm not sure who is who in this photo, please bear with my ignorance. It's not that I don't recognize that they are different people, it's just that I've never learned which is which. OK, I still suck for not learning, feel free to school me.
The girl in front seems most lost to me, she can't even open her eyes and she's all but clutching her sister, as though that connection is the only thing keeping her head above water. The girl behind seems in better control. Control of what, though, it's hard to tell. She looks resigned to me, as though she's buoying her sister but knows that it's only a brief respite from the inevitable. Neither of them is acknowledging the camera, they are completely focused inward and yet, not unhappy about it. Their backs are rounded against the wind and weather of the outside world and they face the one thing that keeps them warm, makes them smile, however briefly or uselessly.
I've read here and there about the ladies. I know that eating disorders and drinking and bad relationships with all sorts of people have been a staple of their "growing up". As you click through photo after photo of them you can see the toll just getting through a day takes on them, they don't look particularly attractive in most of the publicity they're getting these days. Yes, it's a choice, they could go off and become clothing designers or writers or migrant fruit pickers if they wanted to, except that, well, how?
I'm not so much trying to defend them or their actions. What they do is their own business and I suspect they have their reasons and there's nothing I can or should do about it anyway. On the other hand I, like anyone else with a pulse and a cable connection, have had one eye on the growing of both the girls and the phenomenon that is their lives as commodity. This photo was part of an A&E Biography ad campaign, so something that's cashing in on the commodity, but the image itself is, it seems to me, a masterful encapsulation of what's become of the women behind the franchise.
I think that Mary Kate and Ashley look beautiful in this picture, but the sort of tragically painful beauty and grace you see in something in the moment before it hurls itself off a cliff to be smashed on the rocks below.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
This was inspired by a scene in a tv show so it can't really be sent out into the world as solely my own. Also it's incredibly fluffy. But it can have a little place here amonst my ramblings.
‘Oh geez.’ I think.
I’m all stiff and deliciously groggy. I groan a little and stretch awkwardly on the couch. My toes get caught in something. Did I cover up with the afghan? I don’t think so. Maybe I did it in my sleep. I’m practically tucked in. I roll and try to ease out that muscle by my shoulder blade and I see him.
He’s sitting in the chair by the fire, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, one hand on his stomach, his cheek propped up on the other fist and he’s fast asleep.
I roll over onto my side and just watch him for a bit. I wish I was one of those hands either feeling his rippling stomach muscles as he breathes gently in and out. Or the one that’s cradling his stubbly cheek. I know it’s warm. Hot practically, he heats up as he sleeps. I could go over there and run my fingers through his wiry hair. I could kiss those delicious lips. I lick my lips involuntarily at the thought of how soft his would be. Ugh, but I’m so tired I don’t think I can get up.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The fire is still pretty high but if I know him he built it up to a roaring blaze before he sat down. He knows I hate to be cold.
I’m not a nap person. I’ve got no time for that but sometimes I can’t help it and he always finds me. I can hardly count the number of times I’ve found him, here, or on the porch or in my room, woken to find him smiling over me. To hear me tell it he sounds like some freakish stalker but that’s not how it feels. It feels as though I’m safe, always, and it makes me sleep better.
My hip is all crunchy and out of joint from sleeping on the couch. I’ll never get back to sleep so I get up, kicking and wriggling to extract my toe from the crocheted afghan and pad over to his chair. For a moment I just stand in front of him and watch.
He’s so very beautiful and I love him so much.
Finally I lay my hand on his exposed cheek, “Come on sweetie, wake up.” He stirs a bit but doesn’t open his eyes. I lay a lingering kiss on his forehead and whisper in his ear, “Wake up, baby. Time to get up.”
He groans and my skin tingles. I kiss him again and pick his hand up from where it lies on his stomach. He opens his eyes, lifts his head and looks blearily around. I love that sleepy look. He could be 10 or 30, he’s vulnerable and I just want to wrap my arms around him and take care of him.
“What?” he asks.
“Time to go to bed.”
“OK.” He gets up from the chair slowly and his hand rests heavily on my shoulder while I lead him to the hallway. “Uh…wait…” he slips from my grasp and heads back toward the living room.
“No, no sweetie this way.” I think he’s headed back to the couch or the chair.
“Fire” he says and I wait while he banks the fire and puts the screen in front of it. Then he’s back with his arms around me from behind and we stumble awkwardly to the bedroom.
When I turn to close the door he flings himself face first onto the bed. He’s still wearing his coat and his boots. I sit next to him and start to tug his sleeves. He rouses briefly, sitting to let me pull off his coat as he toes off his unlaced boots. Then he peels off t-shirt, socks, jeans, crawling under the covers, pulling me with him. I wriggle back against him to get comfortably spooned. He roots through my hair to place a kiss on my jaw and whisper, “’Night beautiful.”
And I fall almost immediately to sleep.
Monday, August 21, 2006
I'm back and Brooklyn has rewarded me with strangeness to make me happy and comfortable again.
I returned the Adventure Van and dropped off the donation stuff and I was walking down a street that I don't go down very often and a beefy black guy leans in as he passes me and says, "Snow White." I, of course, get indignant and think, "Yes, we're on a street that's between the Goodwill and the Salvation Army in downtown Brooklyn and I'm not exactly in the majority here but I can see at least....one other white chick." Half an hour later I'm in the chinese food store and I catch a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. Oh my god, I'm not Snow White I'm So White, I'm the prototype color for paste, I'm the stand in for that guy in Powder. I need to buy a pair of shorts and go out of the house once in a while. Damn!
A few hours later I'm walking my dog (not pictured*) and a 9 ish year old boy says, "What are you looking for?" I'm walking the dog, I have in fact just picked up some dog poop, I'm not looking for anything, I found it and while I'm not thrilled I do feel the pride of civic duty well done. Then I realize, Emily is a German Shepherd...ish. So I guess that's what he thinks all people walking German Shepherds are doing, looking for stuff. I'm not sure what agency he thought I worked for in my crisp uniform of sneakers, sweat socks, jeans skirt, pit stained tee and flyaway hair but he was sufficiently suspicious of my, "We're not looking for anything, just sniffing." that he followed me at a safe distance for a whole block.
Home again where just when I think I'm the weird one someone obliges me by showing me a new dimension of odd. It's great to be back.
*It's a picture of Macy, dad's new greyhound. More on her later.
Friday, August 18, 2006
You know what else having shit in your ears does? It keeps you from sleeping. (The dog barked. What did she bark at? I didn't hear anything. Was that vibration a truck outside? Did something fall on a cat? What time is it? Maybe I won't hear my alarm. Has the gunk drained out yet?) I'm just going to assume that dull ache in my wrist is from clenching in frustration all night long.
I did not miss my alarm. It's time to get dressed and get out of here. Before I go, here's some hot people, just for fun. See you on the flip side! (At least I can still see you.)
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I'm leaving for the weekend. I'll try to bring back pictures.
I would explain, hell I had 3 posts planned to keep you entertained while I was out of touch, but the ear doctor screwed me over. Rather than the cleaning and clean bill of health I had ointment injected in my ear canals. I am under water. I can hear my breath rasping along the cilia of my sinuses, and that's about all I can hear. It's panicking me, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, giving me facial tension, it's awful. The stuff is supposed to dissolve and drain in "a day or so". As if having it in there at all isn't gross enough I have to enjoy the draining. But anyway, it was all too much so napping and ice cream and no posts. Go see the usual suspects (and this!) while I'm away.
I would explain about the weekend but...but...but it is also panicking me, making it hard to breathe, hard to think and giving me facial tension. The important bits are that I will celebrate someone's 96th birthday, see some friends, eat some lobster and come back with some furniture and hopefully one dog with no bits missing or puncture wounds or (any more) irreparable mental damage.
Have a great weekend! Hear something for me!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Did you know that another name for the blinker on your car is Indicator Light? Well...huh.
If you'd asked me to come up with an alternative to "blinker" I might have said "Reminder". Because I use it to remind me where I'm supposed to turn. If I can remember all on my own where I'm going then there's no reason to use the light. Why waste energy and use up the bulb?
Turns out that it's an Indicator Light and it was designed so that a driver could use it to Indicate to other drivers and pedestrians what they plan to do. If everyone is using them and paying attention to the indications of other drivers then, the theory goes, we can all move more efficiently around the highways and byways.
Well, I'll be damned if you don't learn something new every day.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Thanks to the generosity of Alex and Jay I went into a recording studio to record something for myself for the very first time ever. I was part of a group sing section of Suspicious Fishes and I was part of the studio audience for Never Been to Vegas but I've never gone in to record something that's just me. You know?
It's like crack. Hot, sweet, and intensely addictive.
Oh man, I could have stayed for the whole day and I could have recorded everything I know how to sing until my voice cracked, broke and bled out onto the cool, ratty, oriental rugs.
But, despite the fact that I was given every price break known to man (did I mention the generosity?), it still costs some doche. The other minor drawback is that you have to listen to yourself on the recording. That's kind of icky. But I was lucky enough to have 2 really good sets of ears to listen with me and tell me what's good and the same two people know way more about recording than I do so they could tell me what tricks of the trade could smooth out the rough spots in a good take. I'd be podcasting that shit right here if there wasn't still some magic to be performed. Apparently we'll listen again, we'll mix and we'll have it mastered and THEN let the podcasting begin!
A long while ago C-ann said I should record a CD and I balked a bit at the cost and my own lack of knowledge. Today was my way of trying it out to see how it felt and if the time, effort and cash would be worth it. I'm beginnning to understand that it is. So very worth it.
There does tend always to be, though, one thing that brings me down off a high like this or a good money decision. Today it was coming home to find that when I'd turned on the fan part of the AC before I left I'd actually turned on the AC part of the AC and therefore had spent 6 hours conditioning the air of all Brooklyn.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Yeah, I know I said these were coming a long while ago. I almost waited long enough that I had pictures of the repair, too. Almost.
OK, yeah, not even close. It's gonne be months before that shit gets repaired.
So, no, a monster did not take a nibble out of my building, it was the lightning strike.
Yeah, I should have somehow made this more exciting. It's possible I need Maggie's book.
Did you even notice I was gone?
I thought not.
But yesterday I got the DVR (yay!) and I installed it perfectly (yay!) and I learned how to record stuff (yippee kai yay!) and then my internet access crapped out entirely.
As I've mentioned I pay through the nose for cable & internet. This weekend I found out why. I called, a brief over the phone test located a problem (not related to my extallation and installation skills) and a technician was dispatched for today. In case we're not clear here, today is Sunday. He was scheduled to come between 2 & 6. He arrived at 2:15, it's 2:33 now and it's fixed.
I'm glad to be back. I missed you all!
Saturday, August 12, 2006
The Prospect Park dog group, Fido, send out a newsletter every so often. I just got an e-mail drawing my attention to this news story (I can't find the actual story and I've got to go walk my own dog):
"NY Post Friday Aug 11th
Essentially, it was reported that a Central Park dog found a chunk of ham which had been loaded with pins and needles and managed to eat a portion of it before the owner realized what was happening. The dog was brought to a veterinarian where induced vomiting produced over thirty needles.
This was obviously a deliberate act and dog owners who frequent public parks should exercise caution and be alert for suspicious objects. If you suspect your dog has eaten something more than the "usual" garbage rush them to the nearest Veterinarian's office."
It's possible (thought not probable) that the ham was planted by someone involved in a lawsuit to end off leash hours in the entire city. There are a lot of dog haters out there. I could give you a laundry list of reasons why this is stupid and park safety is at the top of the list but, like I said, have to go walk my own dog plus in this forum I'm probably preaching to the choir. More likely it's just some sicko, could be a dog-hating sicko or could have been a homeless-person-hating sicko or even a squirrel-hating sicko, I suppose.
If this had happened about 8 years ago I'd be terrified because Miss Emily had the fastest garbage-swallow in 3 states but she's been cured of that.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
I've wanted a DVR for the longest time. Ever since Chili got her TiVO probably. But my cable bill, which includes cable, remote and cable modem, might already be termed astronomical. Some might say that adding to it is foolish. Others would say what's another few bucks when you're already in up to your eyeballs. Final straw is that on Thursdays this fall the networks have seen fit to pit Grey's Anatomy, CSI and the new Aaron Sorkin piece, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip against each other. (Denny's dead! Grissom & Sarah are sleeping together! Aaron motherfucking Sorkin! How's a girl supposed to choose?) I'm not entirely clear on the capacity of the DVR but I believe that it will only catch 2 things at a time, or that I could watch one thing while it was catching another so hard choices will still have to be made, but this helps. (Assuming I can manage to hook the DVR to the VCR anyone who would like to trade tapes of one of these shows for another should let me know in the comments. I love my stories this much. Really. Just ask Miflohny.)
This means that for a few months now I've been scanning the Time Warner web site and reading the limited information about DVR service. There's a price, which is not so bad, and some copy about what it can do but that's it. Do I have to bring my cable box in when I go to get the DVR box? Is it a separate box? What about my remote? Can I go to the storefront in Manhattan or does it have to be the one in Brooklyn? And since I didn't know the answers to these questions I was able to save myself some money by not getting the DVR.
Today, though, I had an impulse to take the next step. I decided I would call and get a human being to answer all my questions. Then I could sit and mull the answers for another month or so until premiere week on NBC when I could panic and get the DVR and fear I'd set it up wrong with only 24 hours to spare or, you know, something.
When you go into a store do you avoid talking to the sales staff? If someone helps you even a little do you feel compelled to buy something to compensate them for their effort? Has this sort of irrational guilt resulted in ownership of things like blister-inducing shoes, aqua colored sunglasses and expensively trendy dog treats that your dog won't eat if it's a choice between that and chewing off her own leg?
Yes. Yes. Also yes.
After some automated information on outages and offers for service savings I finally just start hitting "0" until I get into the queue to speak to a human. It informs me nicely that I'll be waiting 3 minutes. Then it proceeds to play an interview with our fine mayor which briefly wigs me out because I can't tell if it's a news station or if he's actually shilling for the cable company, something that seems eerily possible. (Interview, my bad, something about a new tunnel for bringing water into the city. The only specific facts I remember are that it's 60 stories underground and there's one guy and his crane that are responsible for chucking people and equipment down the 60 story hole.) In about 3 minutes Barbara gets on the phone. She's actually pretty lovely and really enthusiastic about her products. She's certain I'm just going to adore my DVR. She answers all my questions and I tell her that's just what I needed and I'm about to say goodbye and feel all informed and shit when she says, "OK, just give me a minute and I'll get you an order number. You just take that up to the desk and they'll give you the new box. You're going to love it!"
I couldn't say no. Then she'd know I was a timid shopper. And lord knows we can't have that, can we?
So, I've got an order number and I've got to figure out a way to get myself out to the cable place in Sunset Park (across from the cemetary, natch) and pick up my adorable DVR box. (Bring the box I have now and my remote - very cool since I dropped the remote a while ago and it has a suspicious rattle.) I'm thinking Saturday since I've got nothing else to do and it'll give me some time to play around with it and get it set up right and test it and stuff. (And call Alex if I screw it up. Hi Alex! Can you put a sitemeter on this blog, too? I'll pay you in beer and dogwalking. No, really. Can you feel the love?) Maybe I'll take the bus out there, I think it's fairly easy and it'd be a nice trip for a lazy Saturday. Or maybe I'll borrow the Mama Girl's car.
OK, yeah, you caught me, I'm actually pretty excited. Which is embarrassing in and of itself but so be it.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Suzanne wins! She wasn't actually playing in the contest but she so wins. She totally gets a cat.
Suzanne solved the it's-a-small-world-song-stuck-in-my-head part of my brain and found not only the quotes I wanted from the series finale of Mad About You but the entire script! I will paste in the entire relevant section and the pieces in italics are the parts that I was trying to get word perfect.
[1999. The justice of peace (ed. note: Played most hilariously by Tim Conway) is in the Buchman apartment. A side table with flowers and candles is used as an altar, and Jamie, with a bouquet of flowers, stands next to Paul.]
JOP: Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to...[looks at his watch] Actually, we’re gathered here, uh, almost tomorrow.
PAUL: Sorry again about the late hour.
JAMIE: Yes, ‘cause we want to keep the same anniversary, so...
JOP: Happy to be here, flattered to be asked. Although, we are moving right along here on midnight, so uh, I should just kinda...
PAUL: By all means.
JOP: Paul, do you take Jamie to be your wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish ‘till death do you part?
PAUL: I do.
JOP: Jamie, do you take Paul to be your husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, ‘till death do you part?
JAMIE: I do.
JOP: ...Are you sure?
JAMIE: [nods] Yes!
JOP: Well, you know, last time we talked, you were...
JAMIE: I understand.
JOB: Okay, well, uh, you have the ring, the witness is asleep in the crib, dog’s lost interest, so I guess we could move right along. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. And, we got seven seconds left, so you can kiss each other squarely on the mouth.
[Paul and Jamie kiss half-heartedly.]
JOP: Well, I’m outta here. [stamps the wedding certificate] Okay, there you go, we’re all signed up, there’s your certificate right there, I’ll leave my card in case you ever want to get ahold of me. I am a certified public accountant, and also a notary public, and I can fix a boat. [leaves]
PAUL: We are married!
JAMIE: Yes, we are.
PAUL: [picks up certificate] All official, typed up, nice and everything.
PAUL: I gotta say, it feels, uh...it feels...what am I trying to say, feels --
JAMIE: Exactly the same?
PAUL: Very much, yes.
JAMIE: Did we rush him too much?
PAUL: I dunno, maybe we did.
JAMIE: ‘Cause there are actually a couple of things I would’ve said if he’d given us a minute or two.
PAUL: Really? Me too.
PAUL: Yeah, well....I know you’re pretty good now. I would’ve been a little more specific.
JAMIE: What would you have said?
PAUL: ...I would’ve said “I love you.”
JAMIE: That’s not so specific.
PAUL: No, but...I really love you.
PAUL: And I would have said...I know life is a big, dangerous thing. It’s stronger and smarter and sneakier than us. But here’s what I got. I will always love you...so never doubt that, no matter what. So that’s what I would’ve said. What would you have said?
JAMIE: I would’ve said.... I would’ve said that there are millions of things I want...but only one thing I really need. And if you ever decided to leave me, I would go and find you and bring you home ‘cause you’d be wrong.
PAUL: See, now that’s a wedding.
PAUL: How do you like being married so far?
JAMIE: I like it very much.
PAUL: ...Ya hungry?
JAMIE: Not really.
PAUL: Okay. (pause) ...C’mere.
[They kiss, then stare into each other’s eyes.]
JAMIE: Thank you for a wonderful engagement.
PAUL: It has been my pleasure.
[They start slow dancing.]
"I would go and find you and bring you home 'cause you'd be wrong." How amazing is that?
Thank you Suzanne!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
While this is not a quiz it might turn into a contest. I'm not sure what I have for prizes but I'll think on it. How about a cat? Anybody want to win a cat? I have plenty.
About a week and a half ago my dad called to say he's getting remarried. My dad reads this site so it's not a place for unfiltered emotion and we'll leave itt at that.
Today I go to a BBQ. Background is that many years ago due to an incident regarding trust and truth I seriously minimized my contact with 2 very close friends, one of whom is an ex-boyfriend. We still have a number of friends in common so we do occasionally end up at the same events, usually after fair warning. I failed to ask about the guest list of today's BBQ until I was already committed and it would have meant being childish and rude to some good friends if I hadn't showed up and I didn't want to do that. So I didn't. (There's a funny thing here involving cake but I'll tell it later since it's not totally relevant.) I've been there maybe half an hour, we're a group of 6 or 8 and the group conversation breaks into smaller bits. JAM turns to me and says, "We have news. Izz is pregnant. We're having twins."
Oh for crying out loud.
The question is, if this sort of thing comes in threes, which I think it does, what's the third thing going to be?
I think it'll be either mom's old man friend dying (sadly not terribly unlikely as he's had a heart attack and gall bladder surgery within the last two weeks) or that another ex-boyfriend will announce his divorce.
But don't take my guesses, I want to hear what you think.
In the immortal words of Jed Bartlett, "What's next?"
Saturday, August 05, 2006
I caught the series finale of Mad About You last weekend. I just love the whole thing. Even the stupid montage at the end. It's not the best episode of all time but it's close. I found the following quotes from an episode in the last season that I saw for the first time a couple of weeks ago.
Paul is about to go into surgery and he says:
"I just wanna say something to you.
Should anything happen... I mean I know it won't but better safe than sorry.
I want you to know that you are the single greatest blessing I have ever received. I mean I don't know why we were put here on this earth. I don't know what they want from us, except I have always known that I am supposed to be by your side and taking care of you and having a family with you and making you happy.
In a universe that is like ninety-nine per cent dissapointment you are the one sure thing. You are the proof that life is good. You are my life."
After some yelling and whinging and general freaking out Jamie says this:
"Oh my god, don't ever die.
'Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and make the face of heaven so fine that all the world would be in love with night.'
Did I ever tell you I played Juliet in the fifth grade? I did. Opposite Steven Palumbo's Romeo. Oy. What an actor he was. He started crying during my monologue when he was supposed to be dead, because he said I was leaning on his arm.
Oh my god, don't ever die.
I have so much more to tell you, and I'm not interested in telling it to anyone else. And I'm not saying I'd be helpless. I mean, I'm bright and fairly good with money. I mean, I guess I'm cute, right? You would say, 'What, are you kidding me? You, my little friend, are a perfect example of beautiful.' And so I am. 'Cause I am nothing more or less than what I see in your eyes when you look at me. Do you know how long I waited for you? My mother used to say I was too picky, or afraid of commitment, and that's why I was still unmarried by the age of almost 30. But the truth is, I was just looking for you. Do you know how close I came to being a narrow, cold, mistrustful woman? But you have given me a life so big and full and good ...and fun! I don't even know what we do, really, besides clean up and complain and wish we were sleeping, but with you, somehow... fun.
And I'll tell you a secret. When we got married, I couldn't imagine still wanting to be with anyone all this time later. But I do. It's a miracle to me. You are a miracle. You've made me happy. Which is something I never, ever thought I'd be."
Yes, they're cheesy and silly and perhaps overly romantic but man we're living in a bombs and guns kind of world, we could use a little sappy fun.
These are lovely and all but what I truly want to find are the "real" vows they exchange at the end of the series finale. I have spent way more time combing the internet for them than a person with a full time job should and I still can't find them. Anybody out there know where they are?
Last week I picked up Alita at school and took her to the gardens to meet C-ann and Music Baby.
We could have gone to the museum instead, since it was broiling hot but I wanted to be able to wander at will and not worry about a place to feed the kids. So we stayed outside.
It was so fabulous to sit and chat with C-ann, to feed the baby, to just listen to all the little girl in pink flowers had to say.
Notice the chocolate in her eyebrows!
Why haven't I done this before? I was brought up right. I have good role models.
We will, I hope, do it again.
Oh blogger photo why have thou forsaken me? Well, me and everyone else. A lot of people have had trouble posting pics off and on for a couple of months. So, I guess you'll just have to wait for the incredibly cute pictures I was going to post.
If I'm not back I've been suffocated under a metric ton (tonne?) of feline flesh. I decided that Pony Express' cats should come live here for a bit to beat last week's heat. I was worried about the Max cat and the weather was simply brutal. Max and Pinto are gloriously affectionate. That makes my two desperately envious. The competition is ramping up and I am the prize.
I believe it as the Everly Brothers who said, Love Hurts.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Posting hot people any earlier this week would likely have created some sort of meteorological nightmare that would have melted the city.
I think we're safe now. At least for the moment.
My apologies to anyone who wanted a 21 Jump Street shot. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
This morning I decided to listen to my saved voice mail messages and see if I could clear some out. One message from MKAEP, one from Alita and three from...someone else.
MKAEP's message was from my birthday about 18 months ago. It was all trademark effervesence and cascade of words and three different subjects all wrapped around each other so tight you couldn't pull them apart with a scalpel and a genie. She finishes off by saying, "I love you more than my luggage!"
Alita's message was also from my birthday, possibly the same year. It was the first of my birthdays where she could both speak in sentences and take direction. With relatively little prompting she wishes me a happy birthday and then says, "I love you."
One of the others is inquiring after my safety in the big regional blackout a couple of years ago. Another is apologizing for a miscommunication. The third is an apology of sorts (if you don't think about it too hard) for general fuckwitishness. I realized today for the first time that in not one of them does the phrase "I love you" appear.
How is it that I never noticed that before?
Thursday, August 03, 2006
"So I'm going to the cookout in NJ. I'm supposed to bring dessert. I'll have to figure something out."
"Bring a watermelon. Teach all the kids to spit seeds."
"I'm going on the bus!"
"If I wanted to carry an extra 20lbs of something with me when I traveled I would have had kids."