This unseasonably warm weather has meant many trips to the playground, which is a good thing. What is not so good - the little man bringing back much of the playground with him. Thanks to the lad, who hopped into our bed with pants full of sand, there is now a grain of sand stuck in my powerbook. But rather than producing a pearl after an age I fear it’s going to produce a seriously dead powerbook instead, in somewhat less than an age.
In other news, Saturday shall be known as The Day The Rink Stood Still. It’s the MN RollerGirls 2006 Season Championship. And I’ve actually talked a few co-workers into attending (sadly Zophia is too busy with homework to join us). Now I just have to remember to pick up our tickets at Crafty Planet tomorrow morning.
Speaking of upcoming events…this is exciting. The many pieces of my Geek Prom ensemble have started to show up in the mail (most were ebayed). Now I’ve got just over a week for the remaining items to show, and to scrounge up a date (the husband still isn’t having any of it). Though I guess it would be more appropriate to go to the Geek Prom date-less. Hmmm.
Bonus: A big Happy Birthday to little Dave. His present was *supposed* to be among the parcels arriving in the mail today, but it’s late. Doh. But I’m still heading to his party shortly. Hopefully I won’t be turned away when I show up empty-handed.
Plus: Not the little man’s Shark Boy and Lava Girl, but something infinitely better (via boingboing)
This summer-like weather has taken me by surprise. While it’s wonderful to have the windows open in the house, to dispel the stale, stinky winter air, I’m not used to wearing my Chacos yet. If the straps aren’t adjusted properly there can be dire consequences. During my morning drive the big toe on my right foot felt like it was being strangled to death. But my big toe is the least of my worries. I can barely walk after yesterday’s workout. My personal trainer (again, can I point out what a bizarro world concept this is, that I have a personal trainer?!) really put me through my paces. Squats and lunges and some time on one of these new-fangled Bosu Balls. I felt so absolutely goofy on that thing, like I was going to fall on my face, or my ass, at any moment. And I’m still afraid I’ll find out I was secretly being filmed the entire time and that the video is making the rounds on the internets right this very moment with people everywhere busting a gut over my buffoonery. Whoa, paranoid much? I need to relax a little…and maybe cut back on the caffeine.
Bonus: Awright, maybe I shouldn’t find this as funny as I do, especially since my Dad is a cop, but it works so well because of the authority figure (though like Kevin said, it would have worked well with a clown too). Check out The Birdhouse.
Plus: The Gamines Love Gaiman
And: What does your apocalypse look like? (Spacey’s first MeFi thread)
For nearly seven years now I’ve lived in the same house. The longest I’ve lived anywhere since I was a kid. But right now I am having that feeling, the one you get the first night spent in a new apartment. All because the husband was motivated today. He singlehandedly swapped rooms. The smallest bedroom had been serving as his home office for far too long while our much larger master bedroom had been used solely for sleeping. Since he works from home full-time it made sense to have him use the larger room for working in. I still need to clear out a bunch of clutter, but things are looking good. Change, it can be a good thing.
While I can pretend I’m still living life before the mortgage, some others we know really are. Before the Mortgage: Real Stories of Brazen Loves, Broken Leases, and the Perplexing Pursuit of Adulthood is a collection our friend Jessica contributed to, and will be reading from (along with other contributors), on April 25th, at Magers and Quinn in Uptown.
All weekend I’ve been inexplicably grumpy. Ok, maybe not quite inexplicably. There is the PMS to contend with. And Jasmine’s health is very obviously deteriorating. And the infant loss support group meets tomorrow night (2nd & 4th Mondays) but I still haven’t managed to force myself to attend. A little voice keeps telling me I should go, but I don’t wanna. Instead I’m going to do the grumpy dance (via Milk and Cake).
In other news, my Geek Prom ensemble is really coming together. Or it will be, when all my ebayed items arrive. Go Go boots of gold, a blue beehive wig, some metallic gold opera gloves, a sparking raygun. And I scored some silver fabric at Savers that I intend to turn into a cape. I’m going to look fracking ridiculous. I can’t wait.
And in other news still, I bought a newspaper. Because the article I was interviewed for ran today. It’s lovely- a big two page spread, and I know two of the other women (from NaNoWriMo) who were interviewed for the story. But one of my quotes was taken slightly out of context. Such that caption above my hideous photo reads: “…that creepy lady that always sits in that corner…” Gee, great. It’s pretty funny actually.
I don’t think I’m so naive, and I realize, in the abstract, that there’s a fetish out there for just about everything. But yesterday I was poking around on ebay, trying to put together my outfit for the upcoming Geek Prom, when I stumbled upon the world of Zentai fetishism (unsurprisingly Boing Boing and fleshbot beat me to it, a couple of years ago). My favorite examples? The unisex mermaid and the XXL Green Lantern (poorly translated as “Green Light”) costume. You know, I’m down with cosplay, but I don’t think that straight-up spandex costumes are my medium, what with my body type and all, and I’m far too claustrophobic to have my face covered like that. Ack.
In other news, we’ve long known that the little man has awesome destructive capabilities, yet he feels the need to prove it time and time again, lest we forget. Most recently…I had emptied out one purse, to begin using another. I left a few pieces of paper out on my nightstand. The lad picked one up and ripped it in half. It was a lottery ticket. A winning one, worth $75 (I didn’t buy it, it had been given to me). He also has a habit of running from one side of the living room to the other, then slamming his body, full force, into the wall. Unfortunately there is a window in one of the walls. Yesterday he broke it. And I could have put that $75 towards repairing it.
Bonus: My copy of At War With the Mystics arrived the other day and I have been listening to it over and over again. Love it (even if the Village Voice doesn’t). I’ve never gotten to see The Flaming Lips live, but I do hope my friend gets a chance to, at Red Rocks.
Plus: This is spooky. Just this morning I was thinking about Naked Raygun (and how that was one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen) and bam, there’s Afrojet’s post mentioning them. Even if they were left out of the American Hardcore: A Tribal History book I may need to pick up a copy.
And: I am overjoyed each and every time there is a new Mimi Smartypants post. This week I’ve discovered we wear the same underpants (not the very same ones, just the same brand), we’re both facing elderly cat issues, and Nora doesn’t believe in Switzerland.
In less than one week I have watched every single episode of the new Battlestar Galactica. Now I can catch up on sleep, and go back to living my life. I still have bonus materials to get through, as well as the podcasts from the official site, but the sense of urgency has lessened. Speaking of which, I could have paced myself a bit more, because, man, I’ve got one heck of a wait before season three begins…in October.
Speaking of living life…the last couple of days the weather has been warmer so I’ve taken the little man to not one, but two of our favorite outdoor playgrounds. All winter we were cooped up and relied heavily on the indoor variety, but those are pay-to-play, and filled with germs. It was good to get outside again. But I’d forgotten about the insidiousness of sand. When we got home the other night the little man plopped down in my favorite chair and inadvertently emptied his pant cuffs into it. I guess that’s the price you have to pay to play outside, for free.
Bonus: I’m thinking about making some sort of duct tape dress for the Geek Prom, but it would have to be very simple and it will be time-consuming, so I’ll have to get started asap.
Plus: I missed Mates of State last night (again) but Chuck went to the show for me. Wasn’t that thoughtful of him? And Metric is playing Monday night, but I’ll probably miss that too. All the good shows have been on schoolnights lately. Sigh.
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My apologies for the lack of posts, and to a whole slew of people whose emails I’ve been meaning to reply to. You can blame the Cylons. They have taken over my life. I’ve gotten completely sucked into the new Battlestar Galactica series. Over the weekend we spent most of our waking hours with the husband’s family, as his eldest sister was visiting from Florida, with her husband and their little girl. We had a good time hanging out but when we were back at our place, and I should have been sleeping, I was completely consumed by the blue glow. I am such a geek. Speaking of which…yesterday I was semi-formally invited to be an honored guest at this year’s Geek Prom. It’s being held in the Twin Cities for the first time (instead of Duluth, like Geek Proms past), and it’s practically in my backyard. I’m planning to attend, of course. But in true geek fashion, I may be date-less. Yesterday’s conversation with the husband was as follows:
Me: So…I’ll be needing a date for the geek prom.
Him: [cold silence]
Me: Would you…
Him: [cutting me off before I could get the question out] No.
I swear he’s not imaginary…just anti-social. Anyone else want to be my date? Or send me some suggestions for my attire? Anyhow, the weekend, combined with daylight savings and my first weight-training workout yesterday morning = super-tired Sharyn. But I will not let the Cylons kill my blog. Photographic evidence will be forthcoming.
Bonus: Nerd alert. Tomorrow morning, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.
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Fridays go by way too fast for me. This morning I overslept, and had to drive the little man all the way to school (rather than to the bus stop) but that’s ok because his school is near my gym. Gawd, I have a gym. What is up with that? I worked out until my legs felt like they were filled with jelly, then headed back home where I lost a good hour or so to my flickr addiction. Now I’m going to attempt to get a few things done, if I’m not waylaid by Battlestar Galactica. I must say, I’m awfully surprised that the husband decided to buy all the DVDs. After the little man went to bed last night we stayed up late, watching the mini-series together. So far the quality seems to be somewhere between Farscape and Firefly. The little man…he prefers Pigs in Space. Speaking of the lad, I’ve come to dread Friday afternoons and his swimming lessons. Each has been worse than the last. Halfway through the most recent one he started telling his instructor that he wanted to go home. I brought it up to him this morning and he declared he’s sick of swimming and doesn’t want to go. What do I do with that? The last thing I want is to bully him into athletic activities, but it seems like the ability to swim would be a useful skill. And I’ve already paid for these lessons. This parenting gig isn’t getting any easier.
Bonus: I’ll admit, I get too much of my music news from Pitchfork…but it was good to hear that Jersey’s best dancers, Lifetime, are back in business. And it brings back the memories. Nine years ago I had just extricated myself from a suffocating long-term relationship. To celebrate I roadtripped it to Chicago with a friend, to see Lifetime’s last show at the Fireside Bowl. It was an extremely freeing experience. For the next couple of years after that I drove down to Chicago a dozen more times for other shows. Those were the days. Sigh.
Yesterday was a mixed bag. Crappy morning followed by a cranky day, but capped off with a big finish. The lovely Zophia and I met up at Muddy Paws for a little pre-show cheesecake. There we discussed some plans for the summer of ‘07, when I get to be “one of her girls” - not brothel-style, silly, but in her wedding. In Italy! Yay! So looking forward to that. Then it was on to First Avenue to be mesmerized by our favorite chanteuse, Ms. Neko Case. Overall the show was fabulous and over far too quickly, but man was it ever jam-packed (I blame The Current). At one point I wound up stuck in some dude’s armpit. I squirmed my way out only to have him elbow me repeatedly in the boob while he was swigging his beer. Finally I pushed him away, but it was so crowded I only managed to move him about an inch. Thankfully he got the hint.
Bonus: Earlier in the evening I’d settled down with the little man to watch a bit of The Sound of Music, at his request. I told him “You know, I haven’t seen this movie since I was a little kid.” He very seriously replied, “me neither.” Umm, he’d never seen it before, and that only made it funnier.
Plus: I’ve only heard a little of this, but I liked what I heard and the name alone makes me oddly happy - I give you Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra.
And: In other music news, I’m stoked that Seu Jorge is coming back here this summer. I missed his show last Fall, because it was the same week as Andrew Bird and I was just feeling generally unwell. So hurray for second chances!
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Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Unsurprisingly I didn’t make it to the Turf Club show last night (or to Neko Case’s in-store at the Electric Fetus). Didn’t feel like going solo, and the boys are coming down with something (fingers crossed that it will skip me, but I’m not feeling so hot this morning) so I thought it best to stay in…even if I did stay up way too late re-reading a favorite book and then, when I’d reached the end, I worked on my own novel for a while…and realized I need to learn more about the Ukraine, and Ukrainians, particularly in Chicago. Tonight I will be going to see Neko Case in the main room, to redeem last night’s failure, and because this time I have a ticket, and will actually havbe a companion. Used to be that I didn’t mind going to shows alone, but that was because I’d always run into myriad friends and acquaintances upon arrival. I’m older now and feeling more disconnected.
Oh how I love Neil Gaiman…
After a night’s sleep, I feel sunny and bright and no longer desire to burn down the hotel and dance in the ashes.
Now I’m wanting a good night’s sleep so I can feel as refreshed as he does. I’ll try to pencil one in for, oh, maybe Friday.
Update: My morning commute was all about the path of most resistance. I’ve long known that Highway 94 is the work of the devil, much like Crowley’s handiwork with the M25 in Good Omens, but having that knowledge doesn’t make the drive any less grueling. The sooner we move back to Minneapolis the better. In the mean time I’m getting the feeling I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning…
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