Tuesday, November 20, 2007

stand back and watch the giblets fly

Stonehenge, May 2002 (Wiltshire, England). Click for larger view.

I love this article:

Being the 'odd duck' at Thanksgiving

I can't identify with the first part, because I am close to my family and I do spend Thanksgiving with them. But the rest of it . . . too funny! Enjoy!

Have a great Thanksgiving, everyone. I'm off to eat mass quantities of salt, gravy, butter, gravy, sugar, gravy, potatoes . . . and did I mention gravy?

Saturday, November 17, 2007

lymie 'do

My new haircut (5" gone) and fun with Photoshop textures.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

life under a blanket

Sophie in the driveway today.

All I want lately is my pajamas, a blanket, and a book or DVD. I'm pretty happy staying on my couch, which pleases Sophie and the cats immensely. We all hang out in a big pile.

Right now I'm reading The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. It's good so far - very dark and moody, something you want to . . . well, spend a dark evening curled up on the couch with. Not a problem.

I'm also watching Everest: Beyond the Limit, Season One, rented from Netflix. It's about a group trying to reach the summit of Mt. Everest, overcoming the brutal heat, cold, and altitude. I keep thinking "these people are crazy", and then "these people are amazing" and then "hey! I want to do that!" But since it costs $40,000 to climb (which includes gear, guides, food, etc.) I think I'll be having adventures elsewhere.

I get my hair cut tomorrow and then stop at Zerbo's. I'm in love with their bulk organic coffee beans. Once you start grinding your own coffee, you can't go back.

Well, I'm off to the couch. And it's Grey's Anatomy night. Yay! I'm tucking in for the long haul.

Monday, November 12, 2007

you may ask yourself "how did i get here?"

Sophie with fur, summer 2006.

Well, I'm on a roll, so I might as well keep going.

I seem to be having a bit of a midlife crisis. Or a late 30's crisis. Whatever it is - it's just that with my 38th birthday approaching in less than 20 days, I thought my life would be entirely different by this point. I expected I'd be married by now. Isn't that what everyone thinks? Except that most people usually get it.

If I would have known in my early 20's that I'd still be single now. . . well, I feel like I've let that 20-something self down. If I met her, I don't know what I'd tell her. "I'm sorry, 'me', I failed. There were two lines, one marked "husbands" and one for "other stuff." I figured I had plenty of time for the husband, so the Sagittarius in me skipped off to second line. I'm sorry. I got confused. There were bright lights and plane tickets and imported beer. I thought I had so much more time."

So I play this game. I'm hanging out on the couch in my stretched out t-shirt, flannel jammie bottoms, and cute new pink slippers, watching Dancing with the Stars, or something equally as meaningful. An angel appears and says, "Hark! I've come to take you away. Your life on earth is over. Come hither and followeth me to the light." And I would say, "Aw, crap! I never got to ______". Here's the game: what would I fill the blank in with? The first thing out of my mouth would be: "I never found the person who I had mutual love with. Who wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. I never got married. I never got to experience a committed relationship."

The problem is that I miss this person, this soul mate guy. I physically miss him. I've never met him, yet I mourn not being with him. Every day that passes is another day not spent with him. And the days will add up and up and UP, and soon I'll be shriveled and spotty and toothless, rocking on my front porch, and this shriveled, spotty, toothless guy will come shuffling up the sidewalk and I'll recognize him. I'll cackle, "Hey, it's you! Where the hell have you been?" And then I'll die. Because I'll be like 107, and the shock of my soul mate actually appearing will be too much for my heart to handle. Our total time together will be about 32.4 seconds. And he'll hover over my limp, dead self, and say "Wow, this old lady has really big hair." This. This is what my life will turn out to be.

It has to be a midlife crisis. Right? Right? What the hell is wrong with me?

Saturday, November 10, 2007

i shall name him "squiggle"

What on earth am I holding?

I've been having a really hard time lately with being single. Really, it's all I think about, almost to the point of obsession. I've been waiting my whole life for someone, and here I am and it still hasn't happened. You can only hold out hope for so many years until you begin to feel like an idiot.

Last night, driving home from
Epic Proportions at the theater, the familiar glob of deep, grinding fear, anger, loneliness, and hopelessness began rising up. It was not good. I had a confusing, busy week at work, filled with all sorts of office politics, bickering, and general wierdness. I had some theater-related issues on my mind that I needed to vent about. I wanted someone at home waiting for me. I wanted to put on my pajamas, sit on the couch with him, and talk it all out. I wanted this more than anything.

When I got home, it was dark, it was chilly, and if it wasn't for Sophie's nails on the wood floor and the distant thumps of the cats jumping off the bed to greet me, there would have been absolutely no sound. I turned on all the lights, put on my pajamas, opened a beer, and then just let it hit. The wallowing, the self-pitying, the anger, the horrible ache of emptiness that can't be filled and may never be filled.

Around midnight, I realized I had never gotten the mail that day. I checked the mailbox and it was empty, but as I was closing the door, I saw a box wrapped in brown paper on the porch. A package! It's always a good mail day when you get a package.
I saw it was from Laura in NJ. An unexpected friend gift!

I needed this so much at that moment that I took my time unwrapping, trying to make the anticipation last. I finally broke the tape on both sides of the box, lifted the cover, and was greeted with this:

Opened package (re-enactment).

I pulled it out, this green fuzzy thing with black eyes . . . and realized it was:

Yes, my very own stuffed Lyme bacteria, borrelia burgdorferi!! (Click here to read more).

Bb is a spirochete (pronounced "spiro-keet", like "parakeet"), a corkscrew-shaped bacteria which is able to screw itself deep into your muscle tissue or to roll itself in a ball and hide. That's what makes them so hard to kill. They are very mobile, able to spin and squiggle their way throughout your body.

Showing the corkscrew shape.

I burst into laughter. I laughed and laughed, read the label, read Laura's note, and laughed more. I mean, really, FAO Schwartz is carrying stuffed Lyme bacteria? And the bacteria HAS EYES?! I don't think this is going to top kids' Christmas wish lists this year, but it's one of the best gifts I've ever received. And it came at just the right time. Because far away in Manhattan, in a toy store, Laura had been thinking of me.

You just don't get bacteria in the mail every day.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007


Really, all day long I've just felt I could cry at any second. I'm not sure why. Just that wierd, melancholy, edge of tears wobbly feeling.

I did the only thing a girl can do: I bought myself some presents at Target.

These cute pink slippers:
And this movie, which I watched immediately when I got home. It was GREAT!
Oh, and Charlotte Martin's Reproductions album came out today on iTunes. All the tracks are remakes of other people's songs. It includes two of my all-time favorites: Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order, and Just Like Heaven by The Cure. I'm still making my way through the album . . . and loving it so far!
So all in all, a day full of small things that make life fun, even when you just feel like curling up in a blanket and staring out the window at the rainy snow and wind. Which actually doesn't sound like a bad idea.

Friday, November 2, 2007

epic evening

The 20 X 30" marquee I made for the show (click for a larger view).

It's opening night!

My flurry of taking photos, printing them, making the marquee, designing the program, making magnets, stargrams, signs, painting the set, helping make props, and general problem solving is almost done! At 8:00 tonight I can kick back, open a beer, and watch the curtain go up.

Here's the play synopsis: "Set in the 1930’s, two brothers Benny and Phil go to the Arizona desert to be extras in the huge Biblical epic Exeunt Omnes. Things move very quickly and before you know it, Phil is directing the movie, and Benny is starring in it. To complicate matters further, they both fall in love with Louise, the assistant director in charge of the extras. Along the way there are gladiator battles, the Ten Plagues, and a cast of thousands portrayed by four actors."

It's a really funny show with a great cast. See you there!

Thursday, November 1, 2007

halloween reflections

An unsettling sculpture in a restaurant, oddly resembling Jim.

Overall, I had so much fun handing out candy last night. 99% of the kids and parents were happy, friendly, polite, and grateful. And I had close to 300 kids again. But then there are the few who, well, make a really good story.

I had SO MANY parents show up with bags and "kids in the car" stories this year. Is that the new trend?

My kid hurt his leg.
My kid is tired.

My kid is cold.

My kid is too shy.

My kid is is being punished.

My kid is an idiot.

The parents got just one piece of small candy. Next year I feel like putting up a big sign "MUST BE PRESENT TO RECEIVE CANDY." Or, I'll demand to be taken to the car, where I can give the candy to the injured / depressed / socially inept child myself.

Then I had a 15-ish year old girl who had a bag AND a backpack, AND was on her cell phone the whole time. When I didn't notice her open backpack, she turned around and pointed to it impatiently, still talking. If you're old enough to own a cell phone and call boys, you're too old to be begging for candy.

And BABIES with bags. One kid was maybe 6 months old and completely asleep, and the parents had a bag. You're telling me that this tiny toothless being is going to rip through licorice and Kit Kats when he wakes up? I think not.

Oh, and a few kids would reach in, take out the candy, examine it as if pondering whether to keep it, and then drop it back in. One kid asked for an exchange.

An exchange.

Like he's shopping at Target.

He's going to grow up to be someone's boss, I'm sure of it.