Yesterday I went to Krav for the first time in two months. Alone in the locker room, I stepped on the scale, almost afraid of what it would say. Except it read about six pounds lighter than the weight I'd been at my last physical, 30 days ago. Woo hoo! I thought. I must be doing something right! Then I looked down at my flabby belly, bulging out over the top of my workout pants, and realized that I'd only lost what muscle weight was hiding underneath the blubber, not the blubber itself.
Le sigh.
There was a moment tonight when I almost forgot I was in San Francisco and not New York. My not-a-date date and I were wandering around after dinner, trying to find a secluded spot (there aren't many in FiDi SF, and what ones there are have security cameras) and ended up in a public space with benches and weird art, surrounded by skyscrapers. I looked straight up. The sky was clear, framed by the buildings, and the moon shone its waxing gibbous face down on us, and the illusion was almost complete. I am there, this is happening.
Maybe the weight I lost was wallowing self-pity, not muscle.
On a nerdier note, as part of my goal to do as much of the 7x7 Magazine 2012 Big Eat Challenge, I actually spent some time mapping out the locations of all the restaurants.
View 2012 Big Eat Map in a larger map
Sure, maybe someone else is or was going to do the work on this so I didn't have to, but this way I can keep track of the ones I've actually tried. Go me. And go ahead: let me know if you want to join me for any of it. Some of those places are definitely best with a partner in crime.
Showing posts with label geekery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label geekery. Show all posts
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
I Guess That's Why They Call It
When we (finally) got cable TV, back when I was 13 or 14, I watched a lot of VH-1. (Yeah, you would expect MTV, wouldn't you? But remember, I was also the kid who listened to Richard Marx and Elton John at a time when my generational peers were hot for New Kids on the Block. We can debate later who had the better taste.) The above, one of the videos on pretty regular rotation at the time, meaning that it more-or-less helped define the music video in my impressionable brain.
At any rate, that Patty Smyth song came on in the car as I was driving over the Santa Cruz Mountains this Sunday with my two youngest siblings. I was shocked, perhaps a tiny bit ashamed (lie), to find that I still knew all the lyrics and could belt it out with the best of them. I guess some things just don't leave you, do they?
By the way, I totally lay some of the blame on songs like this, and VH-1 in general, for my screwed-up vision of how love is supposed to be. Nah, phooey.
On another note: I've started a bucket list for the Bay Area (and West Coast in general, I guess, since Disneyland is on there). It's kind of nice to have a list of "goals" to accomplish, even if I know already I won't get around to all of them. I'll keep adding to the list as I remember things (or get reminded of them), and be crossing things off as I do them. If there's a relevant blog post, I'll probably link to it, too. Feel free to make suggestions as you see fit, and I may add them.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Auntie: Up
I was thirsty.
So, off a comment on a picture friend Buhler posted to Google Plus, I inspired myself into yanking some of my parents' backyard produce, and being productive with it.
I have a lot of zucchini bread now. Most of it is in muffin format, bagged and tossed into the freezer for at least a month of future breakfasts. One giant zucchini produced two dozen muffins and a loaf. Not bad for elephantitis of summer squash.
Also gathered from Suburban Eden were some tomatoes
and some peppers, which I combined with some thai peppers I'd bought from the Farmer's Market to make into "napalm" jam.
Haven't figured out yet what to do with the eggplant. Maybe baba ganoush?
On top of all this kitcheny productivity, I also spent pretty much the entire weekend in the presence of small children. Yesterday I was Favorite Auntie Sarah to the World's Cutest Nephew, and together we learned how to lick Play-Doh and steal chocolate.
No, you cannot resist his cuteness. Don't even try to.
Today I was Favorite Auntie Eapa to my friend's son. The family invited me to join them at the Exploratorium. I haven't been there in probably fifteen years. And just goes to show how much of a geek I am in that I completely had a blast. And got a little thirsty, as you can tell from the picture up top.
Hadn't really thought about this until I was actually walking down the hill from where the 24 dumped me off, but it has been years and years since I was last in that part of town. I'd forgotten how beautiful the Palace of Fine Arts is.
I'll have to revisit on a nicer day, such as when it isn't summer here in SF.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Baited Breadth
Quick, Pop Quiz time! How do you say "cheese omelet" in French?
Interestingly enough, that episode touches — humorously — on a theme that I've had rolling around in my head for a week or so now, as an idea for a short story. I'm considering spending some of my weekend perhaps outlining that idea, seeing if I can come up with an actual plot for it. It's time to try to recapture some of that confidence I had from this year's short story contest, and see where it takes me.
I found some inspiration (not for the story) today while trolling around on OkCupid. One of my "Quiver" matches mentioned The Worm in his profile, which inspired a video search, which led me to stumble on the below.
By the by, there are elements that aren't safe for work. You've been warned.
Interestingly enough, that episode touches — humorously — on a theme that I've had rolling around in my head for a week or so now, as an idea for a short story. I'm considering spending some of my weekend perhaps outlining that idea, seeing if I can come up with an actual plot for it. It's time to try to recapture some of that confidence I had from this year's short story contest, and see where it takes me.
I found some inspiration (not for the story) today while trolling around on OkCupid. One of my "Quiver" matches mentioned The Worm in his profile, which inspired a video search, which led me to stumble on the below.
By the by, there are elements that aren't safe for work. You've been warned.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
War Takes Sacrifices
I had hope that my days of battling with kitchen rodents was done. A few days ago I came home to a new strip of metal at the bottom of my door, effectively blocking off the gap between it and the carpet, and a message assuring me that this should keep future intruders out.
Unfortunately, it also serves to keep current intruders in. Last night I was awakened by the now-too-familiar sound of crunch-crunch-crunch. I must have been foolish enough to let a coffee bean spill to the floor one day while I was filling my grinder. Dumb mouse, don't you know I won't care that you're there so long as you don't eat loud food?
At any rate, since the trap with peanut butter (and a coffee bean) that I've had out since the last invasion, when I returned from my New York/Cleveland trip, I knew it was time to break out the good stuff. A new trap has been set, this time with a precious glob of Nutella. Fingers crossed on this one. I need my sleep.
And yes, tonight when I get home from work and Krav, I will do a thorough cleaning of the kitchen, to get rid of any other exposed foodstuff that may be scattered about. Sigh.
On a side note: I had no idea that these guys were still around doing things. Re-stumbled on them last night before bed, and now I'll have to back through five years of archives to see what new things they've been up to.
But here is what my favorite was, back in the day:
Unfortunately, it also serves to keep current intruders in. Last night I was awakened by the now-too-familiar sound of crunch-crunch-crunch. I must have been foolish enough to let a coffee bean spill to the floor one day while I was filling my grinder. Dumb mouse, don't you know I won't care that you're there so long as you don't eat loud food?
At any rate, since the trap with peanut butter (and a coffee bean) that I've had out since the last invasion, when I returned from my New York/Cleveland trip, I knew it was time to break out the good stuff. A new trap has been set, this time with a precious glob of Nutella. Fingers crossed on this one. I need my sleep.
And yes, tonight when I get home from work and Krav, I will do a thorough cleaning of the kitchen, to get rid of any other exposed foodstuff that may be scattered about. Sigh.
On a side note: I had no idea that these guys were still around doing things. Re-stumbled on them last night before bed, and now I'll have to back through five years of archives to see what new things they've been up to.
But here is what my favorite was, back in the day:
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Nerds and Trains and Trees
Historical reenactors are strange people. Especially aficionados of the American Civil War.
These guys think they are awesome as they hang out in their Civil War gear.
I mean, I get it, somewhat: I am a dork, afterall. There's something fun and escapist about dressing up for a different time period. Especially one that's become so distant in living memory that the messiness of the reality has been glossed over by a patina of glory and nostalgia. Renaissance Fairs are cool, with their bawdy men and giant turkey legs, and no one dying in the street from the Black Plague. I have fond childhood memories of visits to a medieval "living museum" town (which for the life of me I cannot find on the internet, probably am misremembering the name), with done-by-hand craftwork and people jousting without actually intending to kill each other. And I've seen Colonial Williamsburg, and Indian "settlements" with people pretending to live in teepees or longhouses and making headbands out of leather. All in the name of bringing history to the eyes and minds of a next generation.
(On a side note, I wonder: will people one day reenact concentration camps in the name of History? Or is that taking it too far, even 100 years from now?)
However, watching grown men and pubescent boys run around in costume, shooting blanks at each other, acting out old battles and random skirmishes, really had a feeling of, as my friend Josh commented, coming across a bunch of 11-year-old boys playing in the woods. Exactly that kind of awkward seriousness.
At any rate. Idle talk last weekend while at the Maker Faire coalesced this weekend into a road trip down to Felton, where the Roaring Camp Railroad is. For Memorial Day Weekend, they also happened to be having Civil War reenactments (hence the above pondering) going on at the same time. Chuck was thrilled, since he loves trains. Josh rented a car, and did the driving this time, since I wasn't sure my Baby could swing it.
As a child, I'd been to Roaring Camp once or twice. I think it's where my sister got attacked by a goose (or was that somewhere else?), and I remember riding the train through the redwoods and thinking it was pretty cool. Coming back something like two decades later, I wasn't disappointed.
Chuck is excited
Boy love
Sarah on a train!
For the trip home, we drove up the coast on Highway 1. The weather was gloomy most of the way, but cleared up as we had dinner in Half Moon Bay, and was gorgeous by the time we got back into San Francisco's City Limits.
I attack my food with a vengeance. It was pretty good, but next time I'm definitely getting the awesome mole.
Memorial Day weekend is kind of awesome. I still have two more days off to blow off some steam.
The train blows off some steam. Ha!
These guys think they are awesome as they hang out in their Civil War gear.
I mean, I get it, somewhat: I am a dork, afterall. There's something fun and escapist about dressing up for a different time period. Especially one that's become so distant in living memory that the messiness of the reality has been glossed over by a patina of glory and nostalgia. Renaissance Fairs are cool, with their bawdy men and giant turkey legs, and no one dying in the street from the Black Plague. I have fond childhood memories of visits to a medieval "living museum" town (which for the life of me I cannot find on the internet, probably am misremembering the name), with done-by-hand craftwork and people jousting without actually intending to kill each other. And I've seen Colonial Williamsburg, and Indian "settlements" with people pretending to live in teepees or longhouses and making headbands out of leather. All in the name of bringing history to the eyes and minds of a next generation.
(On a side note, I wonder: will people one day reenact concentration camps in the name of History? Or is that taking it too far, even 100 years from now?)
However, watching grown men and pubescent boys run around in costume, shooting blanks at each other, acting out old battles and random skirmishes, really had a feeling of, as my friend Josh commented, coming across a bunch of 11-year-old boys playing in the woods. Exactly that kind of awkward seriousness.
At any rate. Idle talk last weekend while at the Maker Faire coalesced this weekend into a road trip down to Felton, where the Roaring Camp Railroad is. For Memorial Day Weekend, they also happened to be having Civil War reenactments (hence the above pondering) going on at the same time. Chuck was thrilled, since he loves trains. Josh rented a car, and did the driving this time, since I wasn't sure my Baby could swing it.
As a child, I'd been to Roaring Camp once or twice. I think it's where my sister got attacked by a goose (or was that somewhere else?), and I remember riding the train through the redwoods and thinking it was pretty cool. Coming back something like two decades later, I wasn't disappointed.
Chuck is excited
Boy love
Sarah on a train!
For the trip home, we drove up the coast on Highway 1. The weather was gloomy most of the way, but cleared up as we had dinner in Half Moon Bay, and was gorgeous by the time we got back into San Francisco's City Limits.
I attack my food with a vengeance. It was pretty good, but next time I'm definitely getting the awesome mole.
Memorial Day weekend is kind of awesome. I still have two more days off to blow off some steam.
The train blows off some steam. Ha!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
More Proof That I'm a Dork
The world didn't start to end today, as had been foretold by crazy prophets out of Oakland, but I've gotta believe that's because Macho Man Randy Savage saved us all by threatening to snap Jesus like a Slim Jim if he tried anything. (Yeah, I know — I'm so original in repeating a meme.)
My face is a sunburned red from spending all day down at Maker Faire with the Ceramics Crew and Elka. I think we all had a blast, despite the herding cats experience of trying to keep track of everyone at once. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered, and just gone with it. But the Crew is always good for some shenanigans, can't help wanting to stick with them.
We got to ride a school bus in from the parking lot. There were a lot of signs ... as well as an interesting type of emergency kit.
Josh and Chuck try to be the next awesome Make Magazine cover.
Obligatory ride on Lindz's awesome Electric Giraffe. A perk of being an ex.
Sexy moment of the day: the Doctor Who theme song as played through two Tesla Coils. I didn't think about trying to get a video until it was too late, and I'm really peeved at myself about that. But it was kind of like this, just without the goofy guy in the suit doing hand dance:
Tomorrow will be a recovering day at home, roasting a chicken and watching the Sharks hopefully dominate in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals against the Canucks.
My face is a sunburned red from spending all day down at Maker Faire with the Ceramics Crew and Elka. I think we all had a blast, despite the herding cats experience of trying to keep track of everyone at once. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered, and just gone with it. But the Crew is always good for some shenanigans, can't help wanting to stick with them.
We got to ride a school bus in from the parking lot. There were a lot of signs ... as well as an interesting type of emergency kit.
Josh and Chuck try to be the next awesome Make Magazine cover.
Obligatory ride on Lindz's awesome Electric Giraffe. A perk of being an ex.
Sexy moment of the day: the Doctor Who theme song as played through two Tesla Coils. I didn't think about trying to get a video until it was too late, and I'm really peeved at myself about that. But it was kind of like this, just without the goofy guy in the suit doing hand dance:
Tomorrow will be a recovering day at home, roasting a chicken and watching the Sharks hopefully dominate in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals against the Canucks.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
State of Mind
Still trying to process my trip back East. Like my road trip back in September, I'll probably break this one up into two posts: New York, and Cleveland.
I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: New York is full of emotion for me. There's a lot built into that city, and I'm always both prepared and fully unprepared for how it affects me each time. I also forget how the hiccups of any experience in New York have a tendency to drown out the rest of the amazingness that happened on the trip.
I want to focus on the good, because there was a lot of it. So let's get over the hiccups first: a canceled birthday party (co-host got sick ... not his fault at all, but still disappointing); and throwing out my back again the second week of the trip, which involved a $200 set of visits to a chiropractor (which was a strange experience — they had three different guys poking and prodding at me, trying to figure out what was broken).
That was it. That was all the bad. But it was a bad that left the New York portion of the trip feeling ... incomplete. Maybe New York will always be incomplete for me, the longer I'm away and the more I become entrenched here in SF
At least the good of the trip was full of awesome. Just an example:
Yes, that is a TARDIS. Yes, I totally creamed my panties when I saw it.
I stayed this time with Jes and Nick. I've known her since we were 17; we met in an online Trashcan Sinatras-related chatroom. He is her fiancé, and a completely awesome and wonderful person who almost deserves her.
I'm eternally grateful to them: they tolerated my ups and downs, distracted me with British TV when I was sad, and Nick especially I am thankful for making me watch Predator and learn about the EPIC HANDSHAKE.
My bedmate was Fluffy Kitty
who insisted on at least 10 minutes of worship and adoration before settling down on the sofabed between my feet every night. Willingly given, I have to admit. (Sorry, Kitoose.)
The first week was spent working out of my company's New York office — it's my fourth time there, and it almost feels like a second work-home by now. I was able to fill the evenings with a different friend (or set of friends) every night, which made me feel good. Caught up with Erin and Nathan, Benny, Laura, Karen ... and of course had my night out drinking with Geof.
Playing here with someone's Sonic Screwdriver (I might have to get one of my own). He's responsible for being my personal sherpa from the airport, for getting me half-deaf my first night in town, for taking me to the TARDIS bar, for the disappointment of my birthday, and for the comfort breakfast and company when I could hardly reach down to put my own socks on. (FYI: throwing out your back is not only painful, but also humiliating.) That sonofabitch.
Jes and I saw the Trashcan Sinatras the Sunday after my birthday, which is the first time we'd seen them together.
With my back out, the best thing for me to do was, in fact, a lot of walking. So in the end my painful injury was a good thing. On the second Monday of my trip, I walked from Greenpoint where I was staying, across the Williamsburg Bridge and down to Battery Park, then back up Broadway to my chiro appointment.
Tuesday I went up to Washington Heights and wandered around a little before taking the subway down to 92nd Street and walking down Broadway to Columbus Circle, across to 5th Avenue, and then down to Union Square. It was the walk that really brought me back at peace with the City again. I'm glad I did it.
Wednesday Nick helped me schlep the ginormous suitcase of doom to the Hertz rental center, where I picked up a car for the drive to Cleveland. Yes, I drove to Cleveland. No, it wasn't nearly as bad as expected.
I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: New York is full of emotion for me. There's a lot built into that city, and I'm always both prepared and fully unprepared for how it affects me each time. I also forget how the hiccups of any experience in New York have a tendency to drown out the rest of the amazingness that happened on the trip.
I want to focus on the good, because there was a lot of it. So let's get over the hiccups first: a canceled birthday party (co-host got sick ... not his fault at all, but still disappointing); and throwing out my back again the second week of the trip, which involved a $200 set of visits to a chiropractor (which was a strange experience — they had three different guys poking and prodding at me, trying to figure out what was broken).
That was it. That was all the bad. But it was a bad that left the New York portion of the trip feeling ... incomplete. Maybe New York will always be incomplete for me, the longer I'm away and the more I become entrenched here in SF
At least the good of the trip was full of awesome. Just an example:
Yes, that is a TARDIS. Yes, I totally creamed my panties when I saw it.
I stayed this time with Jes and Nick. I've known her since we were 17; we met in an online Trashcan Sinatras-related chatroom. He is her fiancé, and a completely awesome and wonderful person who almost deserves her.
I'm eternally grateful to them: they tolerated my ups and downs, distracted me with British TV when I was sad, and Nick especially I am thankful for making me watch Predator and learn about the EPIC HANDSHAKE.
My bedmate was Fluffy Kitty
who insisted on at least 10 minutes of worship and adoration before settling down on the sofabed between my feet every night. Willingly given, I have to admit. (Sorry, Kitoose.)
The first week was spent working out of my company's New York office — it's my fourth time there, and it almost feels like a second work-home by now. I was able to fill the evenings with a different friend (or set of friends) every night, which made me feel good. Caught up with Erin and Nathan, Benny, Laura, Karen ... and of course had my night out drinking with Geof.
Playing here with someone's Sonic Screwdriver (I might have to get one of my own). He's responsible for being my personal sherpa from the airport, for getting me half-deaf my first night in town, for taking me to the TARDIS bar, for the disappointment of my birthday, and for the comfort breakfast and company when I could hardly reach down to put my own socks on. (FYI: throwing out your back is not only painful, but also humiliating.) That sonofabitch.
Jes and I saw the Trashcan Sinatras the Sunday after my birthday, which is the first time we'd seen them together.
With my back out, the best thing for me to do was, in fact, a lot of walking. So in the end my painful injury was a good thing. On the second Monday of my trip, I walked from Greenpoint where I was staying, across the Williamsburg Bridge and down to Battery Park, then back up Broadway to my chiro appointment.
Tuesday I went up to Washington Heights and wandered around a little before taking the subway down to 92nd Street and walking down Broadway to Columbus Circle, across to 5th Avenue, and then down to Union Square. It was the walk that really brought me back at peace with the City again. I'm glad I did it.
Wednesday Nick helped me schlep the ginormous suitcase of doom to the Hertz rental center, where I picked up a car for the drive to Cleveland. Yes, I drove to Cleveland. No, it wasn't nearly as bad as expected.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Turtle Neck Seasoning
I am not intending to knock the amazing friends I have locally, but: why do I have so many fabulous friends who live so far away?
Some of them were in town this weekend, and there was the usual drunkenness and goofing around that happens when I see these guys. I got a group of gay men singing along to "Day Man", ate some good food, had some good conversations, drank too much Goldschlager ... and really, you know it's a good weekend when it involves glow-in-the-dark bubble bath. Trippy. I already miss them all,
I've bought my tickets to visit some more of my fabulous out-of-town friends, the ones out in NYC. I'll be messaging them soon — the ones I haven't yet poked — to let them know of the impendingdoom err, visit and timing.
In the meantime, my amazing local friends seem to be intent on keeping me busy the next few weekends. Add that to a short story contest I'm participating in, the upcoming NYC trip (which will also include a few days in Cleveland, Ohio) and a couple potential dates in the next seven days (in and of itself is a kind of scary thing), and, well ... this year's kind of shaping up to be an interesting one. Hopefully one with good blogs. Fingers crossed.
At the very least, I haven't cried over my morning ironing in over a week. That's definitely gotta be something.
Some of them were in town this weekend, and there was the usual drunkenness and goofing around that happens when I see these guys. I got a group of gay men singing along to "Day Man", ate some good food, had some good conversations, drank too much Goldschlager ... and really, you know it's a good weekend when it involves glow-in-the-dark bubble bath. Trippy. I already miss them all,
I've bought my tickets to visit some more of my fabulous out-of-town friends, the ones out in NYC. I'll be messaging them soon — the ones I haven't yet poked — to let them know of the impending
In the meantime, my amazing local friends seem to be intent on keeping me busy the next few weekends. Add that to a short story contest I'm participating in, the upcoming NYC trip (which will also include a few days in Cleveland, Ohio) and a couple potential dates in the next seven days (in and of itself is a kind of scary thing), and, well ... this year's kind of shaping up to be an interesting one. Hopefully one with good blogs. Fingers crossed.
At the very least, I haven't cried over my morning ironing in over a week. That's definitely gotta be something.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Syne
Rewatching the old Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, the one from the early 80s, I am forced to a realization: as much as I really, really want to see myself as a Trillian, I have a suspicion that sadly, really I'm more of an Arthur Dent than any other character. If I had to be a character from the books/miniseries/radio show, of course.
I'm sure there's a Facebook test for that somewhere ... but that's too much work to bother with.
New Year's Eve was spent at Norma's place with the Ceramics Crew and Emily, who was in town to see me during the brief week she's home from law school. It was fun, and low-key, and full of food and wine, and extra bonus was that I didn't have to drive anywhere, since Norma lives within walking distance of my place.
Actually, the real bonus of the evening might have been watching Josh get a sparkly manicure:
The nail dryer is serious stuff.
Either that, or Teresa's amazing peanut-butter cup pretzels. It's a close contest, there.
I'm sure there's a Facebook test for that somewhere ... but that's too much work to bother with.
New Year's Eve was spent at Norma's place with the Ceramics Crew and Emily, who was in town to see me during the brief week she's home from law school. It was fun, and low-key, and full of food and wine, and extra bonus was that I didn't have to drive anywhere, since Norma lives within walking distance of my place.
Actually, the real bonus of the evening might have been watching Josh get a sparkly manicure:
The nail dryer is serious stuff.
Either that, or Teresa's amazing peanut-butter cup pretzels. It's a close contest, there.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Down to the Silver Bells
Watching a lot of Netflix lately, I've just had an epiphany: Nickelodeon's Aaahh! Real Monsters = the inspiration for J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series? Think about the parallels:
Or perhaps I'm thinking about this too much. Still ... it's suspicious.
It's almost the end of December. Part of me is blown away, wondering how it can already be on the cusp of Christmas. I've been knitting like mad, frustrated at an attempt at a gift that fell through at the last minute, trying hard to avoid too much overeating ... but despite all this, I've been happy.
The year is suddenly almost over, yes. But even with six months spent in perhaps the darkest place I've been to in over a decade, I can't say I'm disappointed by it. I should probably save the review for another post — one where I have more time to compose and talk and analyze a bit. There are still things I want fixed, gaps that need filling or bridging. I'd like to think, however, that I'm doing better. Just a little.
Time now for sleep. I have a long day tomorrow: 8 a.m. dental appointment, followed by a late day at the office (working until 7 p.m.) and then dinner with Amber of Holiday Party fame.
- The main character set for each consists of three youngsters — two males and a female — at a boarding school to learn the craft of their bloodline/secret community.
- Of the three characters: one is from a poor family with a father that has a little-respected job; one is from a more well-off family, female, and studies hard to be at the top of the class; and one is the son of a famous member of the community who is well-known for his exploits against the common enemy (humans/Death Eaters), and has great things expected of him despite often not being the best student.
- This last character often suffers from the pressure of his legacy/heritage. There are also indications that this student is chosen or marked for something greater.
- The headmaster for each world's school, even though he's male, tends towards some effeminate/ambiguous empathies, behaviors and tastes.
- The main punishment figure (Real Monsters: the Snorch; Harry Potter: Argus Filch) has a pet/companion that acts as spy and communicates back to him when it catches students doing wrong.
- The students are often confused by normal human/"Muggle" items that they come across.
- The plot often revolves around the students getting into trouble/exploring places they shouldn't be, and/or saving the day unexpectedly via their combined talents.
Or perhaps I'm thinking about this too much. Still ... it's suspicious.
It's almost the end of December. Part of me is blown away, wondering how it can already be on the cusp of Christmas. I've been knitting like mad, frustrated at an attempt at a gift that fell through at the last minute, trying hard to avoid too much overeating ... but despite all this, I've been happy.
The year is suddenly almost over, yes. But even with six months spent in perhaps the darkest place I've been to in over a decade, I can't say I'm disappointed by it. I should probably save the review for another post — one where I have more time to compose and talk and analyze a bit. There are still things I want fixed, gaps that need filling or bridging. I'd like to think, however, that I'm doing better. Just a little.
Time now for sleep. I have a long day tomorrow: 8 a.m. dental appointment, followed by a late day at the office (working until 7 p.m.) and then dinner with Amber of Holiday Party fame.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Squash and Bacon
The special guest for tonight's dinner: spaghetti squash. I can't recall that I've ever had this, but I'm looking forward to a new adventure in gourd-dom. Best part thus far: the damn thing smells exactly like a roasted marshmallow. Crazy.
My mother and sister are in the habit, I'm sure, of referring to cook books for a recipe when they're getting ready to work in the kitchen. I, however, lacking a wide range of cooking books to choose from and having not gone to culinary school, have the internet. It's been a good companion in my rise from culinary novice (Nicole, you can stop laughing now about the raspberry pork chops incident) to maker-of-things-that-taste-good. Maybe that should be title-cased: Maker-of-Things-That-Taste-Good. Yes. Much better.
I admit, in my most inexperienced days I've had to look up how to hard-boil an egg (though cut me some slack: I just needed to know how long to boil it for, not how to heat up the water and add the ovum to it), but I will say with some pride that I've never needed Rachel Ray to tell me how to do this: Late Night Bacon Recipe.
Just the fact that Food Network isn't embarrassed to have that recipe up on their site alone is funny enough, but read the comments. It pleases me to see that all common sense is not yet lost.
My mother and sister are in the habit, I'm sure, of referring to cook books for a recipe when they're getting ready to work in the kitchen. I, however, lacking a wide range of cooking books to choose from and having not gone to culinary school, have the internet. It's been a good companion in my rise from culinary novice (Nicole, you can stop laughing now about the raspberry pork chops incident) to maker-of-things-that-taste-good. Maybe that should be title-cased: Maker-of-Things-That-Taste-Good. Yes. Much better.
I admit, in my most inexperienced days I've had to look up how to hard-boil an egg (though cut me some slack: I just needed to know how long to boil it for, not how to heat up the water and add the ovum to it), but I will say with some pride that I've never needed Rachel Ray to tell me how to do this: Late Night Bacon Recipe.
Just the fact that Food Network isn't embarrassed to have that recipe up on their site alone is funny enough, but read the comments. It pleases me to see that all common sense is not yet lost.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Exploding Comedy
Of late, I've been drinking a lot of seltzer water, slowly using it to replace the Diet Coke in my life. It's additive-free, calorie-free, and somewhat cheap. Kind of like water ... but bubbly. (Wait ... isn't that exactly what it is?)
I buy the two-liter bottles from Safeway. Today I finished an old one and went to open a new bottle. I twisted the top off, and was suddenly drenched in an explosion of fizzing wetness as the contents, under pressure, exploded out from under the cap.
After a three-second pause to assess my soaked shirt and the puddles on my counter top and cutting board, I burst out laughing.
Seltzer water is fucking funny. Whether that's because it's such a pervading feature of old slapstick comedy, or if it's just really funny on its own, I'm not completely sure. But it is. Funny.
I buy the two-liter bottles from Safeway. Today I finished an old one and went to open a new bottle. I twisted the top off, and was suddenly drenched in an explosion of fizzing wetness as the contents, under pressure, exploded out from under the cap.
After a three-second pause to assess my soaked shirt and the puddles on my counter top and cutting board, I burst out laughing.
Seltzer water is fucking funny. Whether that's because it's such a pervading feature of old slapstick comedy, or if it's just really funny on its own, I'm not completely sure. But it is. Funny.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The (mis)Adventure Part 2: Seattle; or, I Hate Arachnids
I have been telling people that this trip was both the most stressful and the most relaxing trip I've been on in a long time. That's probably a lie: I'm pretty sure my most stressful trip in recent memory was the one where I ended up in a hotel in Paris, caught in the middle of a fight between my pregnant sister and our mother. But this one had its fair share of stress, some (most) of which I could very easily have dealt with before leaving town, if I had just been brave enough to deal with it instead of a procrastinating mouse.
At any rate, what did I do in Seattle? Absolutely nothing. Nothing of any intrinsic touristy value, that is. I arrived Friday evening, and we pretty much just spent the weekend eating
and drinking
around the table, playing Sorry and a slew of other board games that they'd accumulated over the years.
(By the way: Sorry when you're drunk = teh AWESUM. I love being mean.)
I'd brought a bag full of (slowly fermenting) blackberries up from the Portland area (Steph and I had gone stabbing our hands into the bushes along the Willamette River), and my friends' property in Kirkland was surrounded by more berry bushes. On Saturday Uck and I decided to pick some more and experiment with jam. Thirty minutes or so of picking, another hour or so of boiling down, and we had these:
Eight jars of preserved goodness. Yes, on the right that does say Blackberry and Black Pepper — it was my idea to throw some ground pepper into the jam, and it came out surprisingly good. I'll have to try that again sometime.
When I arrived in Kirkland, after being ritually greeted by Windy ("TITS! Get in here now, young lady."), and presenting my gift cases of Anchor Steam (apparently Puget Sound is lacking in the good microbrews), I was asked the most important question of the weekend: "How do you feel about spiders?"
Later, I found out why that question was so important:
Now, this is not the largest uncaged spider I have ever come face-to-face with in the wild, but ugh! My sleeping pallet — for lack of a better term — was pretty much on the floor, in a room with lots of great hiding places for many-legged creatures to creep. After seeing this lovely palm-sized octoped, I spent a lot of insomniac hours jumping at every tickle before I finally gave up and just went with it.
Beyond a breaking point on around Tuesday (poor Emily had to deal with a grumpy, weepy me), the rest of the week was pretty smooth sailing. I saw Emily, of course
and spent that week working out of my company's Seattle office.
One of my favorite perks in working at this company is the fact that we have an office in nearly every major U.S. city, and a few offices overseas. And the nature of my current position means that I can pretty much work out of almost any one of them. Not everyone is fond of a working vacation, but I've (ab)used this privilege to my own advantage: I get to visit friends, spend some time on vacation, without using paid time off. Plus, I get to meet coworkers from around the country. It's ... well, it's really swell.
In this case, our Seattle office is the one my direct supervisor actually works out of, and it was fantastic to actually get some real face time with her. That, and the truly beautiful commute over Lake Washington every day, even with traffic, made me sorely tempted to just stay another week (or so) up in Seattle. Stupid duty calling in San Francisco.
The one touristy thing I did end up doing while in Seattle was visiting Pike's Place Market. Three times. (One of which was a mission! to buy salmon! That's not really being a tourist, right?)
And I did take pictures of this, which was parked in a lot between 2nd and 3rd Ave.:
Really great pulled pork, by the way. I went there twice for lunch in the week, it was that delicious. And by the way, the license plate? "SOMEPIG".
On Friday, my boss and some coworkers took me out for happy hour, and I ended up staying out until around 12:30 or so drinking and BSing. (Another great thing about working out of other offices on your vacation: you get to talk with people who actually understand what you'rebitching excited about!)
The trip home was uneventful, except for the fact that I came thisclose to unknowingly transporting guns across state lines. Glad I didn't have to worry about that. I stopped over in Eugene, OR, to spend the night with my cousin and his girlfriend — thank you, Ryan! I had a great time, even if it was brief. I owe you ice cream — and then drove eight-plus hours straight in the rain on Sunday to make it home. Trust me, no matter how much you love your vacation, there's nothing to make you want to get home more than a workday's worth of driving in the pouring rain.
At any rate, what did I do in Seattle? Absolutely nothing. Nothing of any intrinsic touristy value, that is. I arrived Friday evening, and we pretty much just spent the weekend eating
and drinking
around the table, playing Sorry and a slew of other board games that they'd accumulated over the years.
(By the way: Sorry when you're drunk = teh AWESUM. I love being mean.)
I'd brought a bag full of (slowly fermenting) blackberries up from the Portland area (Steph and I had gone stabbing our hands into the bushes along the Willamette River), and my friends' property in Kirkland was surrounded by more berry bushes. On Saturday Uck and I decided to pick some more and experiment with jam. Thirty minutes or so of picking, another hour or so of boiling down, and we had these:
Eight jars of preserved goodness. Yes, on the right that does say Blackberry and Black Pepper — it was my idea to throw some ground pepper into the jam, and it came out surprisingly good. I'll have to try that again sometime.
When I arrived in Kirkland, after being ritually greeted by Windy ("TITS! Get in here now, young lady."), and presenting my gift cases of Anchor Steam (apparently Puget Sound is lacking in the good microbrews), I was asked the most important question of the weekend: "How do you feel about spiders?"
Later, I found out why that question was so important:
Now, this is not the largest uncaged spider I have ever come face-to-face with in the wild, but ugh! My sleeping pallet — for lack of a better term — was pretty much on the floor, in a room with lots of great hiding places for many-legged creatures to creep. After seeing this lovely palm-sized octoped, I spent a lot of insomniac hours jumping at every tickle before I finally gave up and just went with it.
Beyond a breaking point on around Tuesday (poor Emily had to deal with a grumpy, weepy me), the rest of the week was pretty smooth sailing. I saw Emily, of course
and spent that week working out of my company's Seattle office.
One of my favorite perks in working at this company is the fact that we have an office in nearly every major U.S. city, and a few offices overseas. And the nature of my current position means that I can pretty much work out of almost any one of them. Not everyone is fond of a working vacation, but I've (ab)used this privilege to my own advantage: I get to visit friends, spend some time on vacation, without using paid time off. Plus, I get to meet coworkers from around the country. It's ... well, it's really swell.
In this case, our Seattle office is the one my direct supervisor actually works out of, and it was fantastic to actually get some real face time with her. That, and the truly beautiful commute over Lake Washington every day, even with traffic, made me sorely tempted to just stay another week (or so) up in Seattle. Stupid duty calling in San Francisco.
The one touristy thing I did end up doing while in Seattle was visiting Pike's Place Market. Three times. (One of which was a mission! to buy salmon! That's not really being a tourist, right?)
And I did take pictures of this, which was parked in a lot between 2nd and 3rd Ave.:
Really great pulled pork, by the way. I went there twice for lunch in the week, it was that delicious. And by the way, the license plate? "SOMEPIG".
On Friday, my boss and some coworkers took me out for happy hour, and I ended up staying out until around 12:30 or so drinking and BSing. (Another great thing about working out of other offices on your vacation: you get to talk with people who actually understand what you're
The trip home was uneventful, except for the fact that I came thisclose to unknowingly transporting guns across state lines. Glad I didn't have to worry about that. I stopped over in Eugene, OR, to spend the night with my cousin and his girlfriend — thank you, Ryan! I had a great time, even if it was brief. I owe you ice cream — and then drove eight-plus hours straight in the rain on Sunday to make it home. Trust me, no matter how much you love your vacation, there's nothing to make you want to get home more than a workday's worth of driving in the pouring rain.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Greatest Thing
Every wondered how far back a time period "The greatest thing since sliced bread" encompasses?
Thank you, Wikipedia, for now I know: today (the 7th, just slipping it in on time, PT) is the 82nd anniversary of the world's introduction to Sliced Bread.
Just thought we all should know. You're welcome.
Thank you, Wikipedia, for now I know: today (the 7th, just slipping it in on time, PT) is the 82nd anniversary of the world's introduction to Sliced Bread.
Just thought we all should know. You're welcome.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
May Be Chilly
I realized last night that some of my dishes had been waiting what had finally become weeks. I've been home so little in the last 14 days that the pileup had been gradual, until suddenly I was checking my cabinets and finding no clean bowls.
The weeks ... well, they were full. There was a lot of alcohol involved, especially in the first seven days of the last 14. The Big Work Meeting was a success (I think). Attendees very politely told me that my presentations were great and thorough. I will accept those compliments as honest, and try not to suspect that they were just being nice. I felt that they were pretty good, especially considering I'd been out until almost might the night before with a bunch of the out-of-towners. *innocent cough*
The rest can probably be stated best in pictures:
Yes, that is me indoor skydiving. It was actually a lot of fun — way more than one would expect for something so safe and middle-classy — and I would completely do it again.
Drinks at Whiskeys with Karen and Magi (and Don, too, not pictured).
Maker Faire with Josh and Chuck ... here they are way too pleased. I imagine it feels like they've found the best friend they had always dreamed of from boyhood. Below is me wielding a steampunk style gun.
Gods above, beware.
In other news, I've decided to let my JDate account lapse. For my $80 and two months, I got one whole lackluster date out of the experience. And a lot of cyber flirting with a guy from L.A. All-in-all, I'm not impressed ... so much for fulfilling my mother's dream of bringing home a nice Jewish guy for Thanksgiving. Bah. (The date itself may garner a post all its own if you guys want, but seriously ... it was so bland, it's probably not worth going into the details.)
I'm also scheduled to teach a yarn store owner how to knit a sock in the next couple weeks. The plan is if she thinks I taught her well enough, she'll add me to her schedule as a sock knitting instructor. I'll get to choose my own class times, rates (the store takes I think 50%), sizes ... and get a discount on yarn. It'd be a dream come true ... though probably bad for any goals of decreasing my yarn stash. Here's hoping. Though now I'll have to come up with a curriculum. Ack. Scary ... anyone have any advice from knitting classes they've taken in the past?
The weeks ... well, they were full. There was a lot of alcohol involved, especially in the first seven days of the last 14. The Big Work Meeting was a success (I think). Attendees very politely told me that my presentations were great and thorough. I will accept those compliments as honest, and try not to suspect that they were just being nice. I felt that they were pretty good, especially considering I'd been out until almost might the night before with a bunch of the out-of-towners. *innocent cough*
The rest can probably be stated best in pictures:
Yes, that is me indoor skydiving. It was actually a lot of fun — way more than one would expect for something so safe and middle-classy — and I would completely do it again.
Drinks at Whiskeys with Karen and Magi (and Don, too, not pictured).
Maker Faire with Josh and Chuck ... here they are way too pleased. I imagine it feels like they've found the best friend they had always dreamed of from boyhood. Below is me wielding a steampunk style gun.
Gods above, beware.
In other news, I've decided to let my JDate account lapse. For my $80 and two months, I got one whole lackluster date out of the experience. And a lot of cyber flirting with a guy from L.A. All-in-all, I'm not impressed ... so much for fulfilling my mother's dream of bringing home a nice Jewish guy for Thanksgiving. Bah. (The date itself may garner a post all its own if you guys want, but seriously ... it was so bland, it's probably not worth going into the details.)
I'm also scheduled to teach a yarn store owner how to knit a sock in the next couple weeks. The plan is if she thinks I taught her well enough, she'll add me to her schedule as a sock knitting instructor. I'll get to choose my own class times, rates (the store takes I think 50%), sizes ... and get a discount on yarn. It'd be a dream come true ... though probably bad for any goals of decreasing my yarn stash. Here's hoping. Though now I'll have to come up with a curriculum. Ack. Scary ... anyone have any advice from knitting classes they've taken in the past?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sharks Win 4 - 3; Day "Not a Complete Wash," Says Sarah
So, date canceled on account of sick (his being sick, not mine), and the decision of what to do with the waste of my day was decided by the call of my sister looking for company that didn't live within 30 feet of her. I ended up driving down to San Jose, going out to lunch with my sister and her son (ran into my high school friend Shortie, literally as I was saying her name in discussing the last time I'd been to that restaurant), and watching the game with my dad. All-in-all, not a bad day, even if I did end up getting enlisted in the big ol' furniture moving to get ready for the painters coming in a few days.
Bonus prize for the day: getting to swipe my brother's Wii. I'm wondering just how dangerous it's going to be, with me having video games in the household. Hopefully I'll still remember to go to Krav.
Bonus prize for the day: getting to swipe my brother's Wii. I'm wondering just how dangerous it's going to be, with me having video games in the household. Hopefully I'll still remember to go to Krav.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Exercising my Options
After an initial humiliating experience in the Conditioning class at my Krav Maga studio (which, I notice, I failed to mention on my blog at the time in a stirring act of self-censorship), back at the end of September, I was finally convinced to attempt it again by the instructor about a week and a half ago. Thought I'd only be able to make it halfway (the first time I lasted 20 minutes), but the instructor and some of the other regulars in the class talked me through the entire thing, until I found myself at the end of the hour, trying to support myself with my weak, shaky arms through Downward-Facing Dog and the cooldown stretches. Yes, walking (or any movement, really) was difficult for the next four days, but I was so damned proud of myself. You'd think I'd won the New York Marathon or something, instead of just making it through 60 minutes of full-body movement.
I went again this past Thursday, partly to convince myself that the first time wasn't a fluke, and mostly to try and make this into a part of my regular weekly routine. The Cute Guy was there, and he and I finally had a conversation while waiting for the class to start. Found out that he delivers wine for a living (access to wine = big plus!), but we also spent most of the 20-minute conversation discussing his new '07 Toyota Camry (car talk = somewhat of a minus). Not that he'd ever be interested in someone like me — I'm probably lumpier than the type of girls he'd generally go out with — but for some reason talking with him made me feel much more like a regular and a part of the "Krav Krowd". I made that term up, by the way. But if I do somehow become popular at the facility (hahahaha), I'm totally making a FB group called that.
In other news: Today I missed taking the Krav Maga test to move up to Level Two. I think I was ready for it, but I was also supposed to help my grandparents move out of the house they've lived in for almost 60 years into their new apartment at a retirement community. I was kind of torn, since I really feel like I'm ready to move on after about seven months of going pretty religiously, but you know how it is — sometimes you have to put things off in favor of the more immediate need ("family first", yadda yadda).
Except it turned out they didn't need me, so I should have signed up and just taken the test, anyway. Now I have to wait three months until the next one. Not that I'm peeved or anything. No way.
The day turned out to be not so much of a waste. My sisters called up to see if I wanted to hang out, and I drove down to Mountain View for a few hours to do breakf- err, a late lunch at Sizzler and shopping at Cost Plus.
Call me crazy, but any time spent with my nephew just seems to make life better. Does this mean I'm getting old?
I went again this past Thursday, partly to convince myself that the first time wasn't a fluke, and mostly to try and make this into a part of my regular weekly routine. The Cute Guy was there, and he and I finally had a conversation while waiting for the class to start. Found out that he delivers wine for a living (access to wine = big plus!), but we also spent most of the 20-minute conversation discussing his new '07 Toyota Camry (car talk = somewhat of a minus). Not that he'd ever be interested in someone like me — I'm probably lumpier than the type of girls he'd generally go out with — but for some reason talking with him made me feel much more like a regular and a part of the "Krav Krowd". I made that term up, by the way. But if I do somehow become popular at the facility (hahahaha), I'm totally making a FB group called that.
In other news: Today I missed taking the Krav Maga test to move up to Level Two. I think I was ready for it, but I was also supposed to help my grandparents move out of the house they've lived in for almost 60 years into their new apartment at a retirement community. I was kind of torn, since I really feel like I'm ready to move on after about seven months of going pretty religiously, but you know how it is — sometimes you have to put things off in favor of the more immediate need ("family first", yadda yadda).
Except it turned out they didn't need me, so I should have signed up and just taken the test, anyway. Now I have to wait three months until the next one. Not that I'm peeved or anything. No way.
The day turned out to be not so much of a waste. My sisters called up to see if I wanted to hang out, and I drove down to Mountain View for a few hours to do breakf- err, a late lunch at Sizzler and shopping at Cost Plus.
Call me crazy, but any time spent with my nephew just seems to make life better. Does this mean I'm getting old?
Sunday, October 25, 2009
This Weekend: Mostly All About Food
Almost two weeks after someone smashed a hole into my car and raped her of all the worthless electronics, I've finally got her back from the shop, all fixified and shiny (and me $330 poorer).
The first thing I do once I get my wheels back? Take her to the grocery store and buy a chicken.
Most of today was spent in the dismembering and preparation of that chicken. The breasts and wings got salted, peppered, dry herbed and roasted in the oven with some beets for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch. The thighs and drumsticks are currently marinating for tandoori chicken. And finally, I threw the back and giblets (the chicken came with two hearts ... ah, Foster Farms, I love your craziness) into a stock pot with vegetables to make broth, which is currently jarred and sitting in the fridge, waiting for some future use. Considering the whole bird was about $4, I think I'm getting some good use out of my keen budgeting and kitchen skills here.
Before picking up the car yesterday, I took the bus up to Atelier for some yarn, and ended up finally hitting up The King of Falafel on Divisidero, which I've passed often and never went into. I'm generally not a fan of falafel — something about the sauce, and the balls I've had were just kind of tasteless — and went in there intending on getting something lamb-based, but the girl behind the counter shoved a free sample of the falafel into my hand and I was converted. Now I almost understand all those people who randomly crave this stuff; maybe someday I can even join in the lusting fun. At any rate, if you're looking for decent falafel in the city, try this place and tell me if it's as good as I think it is.
And that's been my weekend. Food, poverty, and more food. No wonder my posts are few and far between — maybe I need a new hobby, like boar hunting. Something that would be fascinating to write about.
On a side note: I know at some point that I'll get sick and tired of spending my Friday and Saturday nights at home alone, but after the fabuloso of my trip to NYC, and considering that next weekend I have been invited to three Halloween-related events, it think it does me good to have a little inside time to myself. Hopefully. I'll let you know if or when the cabin fever starts to set in.
The first thing I do once I get my wheels back? Take her to the grocery store and buy a chicken.
Most of today was spent in the dismembering and preparation of that chicken. The breasts and wings got salted, peppered, dry herbed and roasted in the oven with some beets for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch. The thighs and drumsticks are currently marinating for tandoori chicken. And finally, I threw the back and giblets (the chicken came with two hearts ... ah, Foster Farms, I love your craziness) into a stock pot with vegetables to make broth, which is currently jarred and sitting in the fridge, waiting for some future use. Considering the whole bird was about $4, I think I'm getting some good use out of my keen budgeting and kitchen skills here.
Before picking up the car yesterday, I took the bus up to Atelier for some yarn, and ended up finally hitting up The King of Falafel on Divisidero, which I've passed often and never went into. I'm generally not a fan of falafel — something about the sauce, and the balls I've had were just kind of tasteless — and went in there intending on getting something lamb-based, but the girl behind the counter shoved a free sample of the falafel into my hand and I was converted. Now I almost understand all those people who randomly crave this stuff; maybe someday I can even join in the lusting fun. At any rate, if you're looking for decent falafel in the city, try this place and tell me if it's as good as I think it is.
And that's been my weekend. Food, poverty, and more food. No wonder my posts are few and far between — maybe I need a new hobby, like boar hunting. Something that would be fascinating to write about.
On a side note: I know at some point that I'll get sick and tired of spending my Friday and Saturday nights at home alone, but after the fabuloso of my trip to NYC, and considering that next weekend I have been invited to three Halloween-related events, it think it does me good to have a little inside time to myself. Hopefully. I'll let you know if or when the cabin fever starts to set in.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
American Grafitti [sic]
A couple pieces of "urban poetry art" down the street from my apartment that make me think, "Gee, maybe we shouldn't teach hoi polloi how to write."
A better question would be, "When does my spray paint spellcheck turn on?"
... yeah, I don't think there's going to be a wedding happening anytime soon. Sorry, hon.
And then, while checking my Flickr page yesterday, I came across this frightening piece of evidence that the English language is completely going to shite:
Please excuse the French, I like to make some things difficult on myself. Like Flickr.
I wonder if this nitpickyness is really me, or just the 4th day of the Atkins diet talking? Hmm.
A better question would be, "When does my spray paint spellcheck turn on?"
... yeah, I don't think there's going to be a wedding happening anytime soon. Sorry, hon.
And then, while checking my Flickr page yesterday, I came across this frightening piece of evidence that the English language is completely going to shite:
Please excuse the French, I like to make some things difficult on myself. Like Flickr.
I wonder if this nitpickyness is really me, or just the 4th day of the Atkins diet talking? Hmm.
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