weapons of massdistraction

Last Friday didn’t start off very well. My sinuses were driving me up the wall all morning, my right eye wouldn’t stop twitching, and I inadvertently dressed my kid like Freddy Krueger (when I handed him his new shirt that morning he even said “mom, this shirt is scary” and he has no context), but at least it was Friday. And the day improved. That afternoon I was ordered to stop working early for a work-sanctioned kegger, and I was even allowed to bring the little man. Umm, yeah, so I took the little man to his first kegger. But I brought along root beer. And that night Zophia and went to see Serenity (joined by These Old Boots and Cleopatra’s Kitten). I am so glad I steered clear of the fan sites and the reviews and remained completely unspoiled. It made what Joss had to do hurt sooooooo good.

Then Saturday was bright and sunny and all smiles. I felt good and whole and productive for the first time in ages. I took the little man out to run errands. To the bank, and to take the car in for a very overdue oil change. The husband had a contractor stop by to look at the roof while we were out. And the man delivered some unexpected good news. The roof doesn’t need to be replaced. Not for a few years anyhow. Just needs to be repaired in one spot. We celebrated by taking the little man to play at a favorite playground, in the unseasonably warm weather, and afterwards in to have his hairs cut. And after that we swung by the co-op for a few things and back at home the husband baked a couple of loaves of zucchini bread. Later on it was his turn to go out, for some guy time, and he picked up the new Neil Gaiman book for me while he was out, thus topping off what was already an all-around very fine sort of day.

But Sunday. Sunday wasn’t quite so fine, though I’d so hoped it would be. I had trouble getting out of bed. The migraine started messing with my head again, as soon as I’d woken up. At one point I said to myself, “self, screw this. Get up.” So I got up. And stumbled a few paces. And lurched into the bathroom. And started throwing up before I could even shut the door (I think the husband hates the sound of me puking even more than the sound of the cats puking). And that’s how much of the day went. With me too weak and ill to do much of anything. But the husband saved the day, sort of, with an idea that came out of left field. With the money we’re not spending on a new roof, he suggested buying a new dining room set. This was a little too Twilight Zone, coming from the man who wears his clothing until it disintegrates, and eats nearly every meal at his computer desk. But he was buying (yes, we’re married, but no, we don’t have joint bank accounts). So I managed to get myself cleaned up and into the car for a little journey to Design Within Reach. And sometime within the next two weeks we will be able to dispose of our rickety-ass dining room set, the one that came with the house, the one with the chairs with the filthy, grimy upholstery. And we’ll be able to have a dinner party while eating on furniture we’re not embarrassed of. Now what to do about the rest of the furniture in the house…

There was some rock action last Friday I failed to mention. My seventeen year-old step-niece went to see Green Day for the first time, at the Xcel Energy Center (a big-ass arena in St. Paul, built on the site of the former Civic Center). I remember going to see Green Day for the first time too…when said niece was still in diapers, fifteen years ago or so. This show was at a slightly different venue. A sweaty little basement on Selby Avenue in St. Paul, at the old Speedboat Gallery, next door to Motor Oil Coffee. There were maybe 30, okay, 40 or 50 people, tops, in attendance. And it was brilliant. To this day that place remains on my list of favorite spots for shows, even if it was only around for a couple of years. Another favorite show there was Jawbox, though I went embarrassingly fangirl afterwards, talking to their female bass player, trying to tell her how awe-inspiring I found her (in a largely male-dominated scene) trying desperately not to sound like a complete moron. I think I failed. Horribly. Sigh.

In other news… I’ve noticed a thing or two about where I’m working. One thing in particular is about the bathrooms. Once in a while, when I’m in the ladies room, I’ll hear the unmistakable sound of some dude in the men’s room, on the other side of the too-thin wall, yanking on the toilet paper roll. Sure, it’s somewhat muffled by layers of tile and plywood, or whatever, but that’s definitely the sound. I don’t know why it should strike me as so odd that we can hear it. Maybe it’s because the already hazy barriers of personal privacy in a public bathroom are so obviously being breached. But it makes me want to walk out of the ladies room, lean in close to the men’s room door and shout FIRE! real loud-like.
Oh c’mon, not like I would.
Really.

Bonus: Not only is this coming Saturday the first day of October (October?! Already?! Wtf?!) it’s also Free First Saturday at the Walker Art Center. This month’s theme revolves around puppetry and suchlike.
Plus: Though I recently started taking Arabic lessons, something tells me I’m not quite ready for Arabic Scrabble gameplay just yet. But the set is quite beautiful. And it might actually help me to remember the characters. Hmmm. Which reminds me, I need to do my homework. I think this week’s assignment had to do with the characters dal and dhal, but I’m not entirely sure. I’m such a first rate student!
And: Love ‘em or hate ‘em, Deerhoof are giving away a tribute album, of Deerhoof songs (de)constructed and re-recorded by fans, online.

Yesterday would have been the perfect Saturday…if I hadn’t felt like crap all day. I tried to forget the feeling miserable part and focus instead on the good stuff. I was home. And my boys were home. And I was in my pajamas. Reading high quality comic books. All. Day. Long. And the husband went out to get Evergreen takeout for dinner. And when I’d run out of comic books to read (I really should have paced myself a little more) and we’d put the little man to bed, the husband and I finished watching Read or Die!, the anime about the super secret super agent librarians with super powers. Sometimes it is the little things in life.

Speaking of little things…gulldarnit. I was in need of a new watch. You know, one that actually works. And is vegan-safe. So after little luck looking around I turned to ebay. I came up with this one (that should be arriving shortly). Naturally I found out about the Naughty Secretary Club after the fact. I’d much rather have a Sophisticated Lady model (sold out, unfortunately) or a Swiss Miss (same) or perhaps the Strawberry Frost. Oh well.

In a little while we’re headed to the Children’s Museum to check out their brand new Jump to Japan! exhibit (complete with cat bus from My Neighbor Totoro), and there will be a performance by the X-Team Yo-Yo crew. The last time we saw them the little man went crazy, in a good way…and it’s always fun watching him get so excited about such things.

On Sunday, just after my big walk, I got into the car and turned on the radio. I heard a guy’s voice, talking about Japanese punk bands. It was a really familiar voice. Immediately I thought “I know that voice.” And I did. Before any tell-tale clues were given away I figured it out. It was Tim Kelly. A guy I met when I was ten years old (and he was a ripe old fourteen or so). He was a close friend of my then best friend’s older sister. He and a few others helped shape some of my early musical tastes. Elvis Costello. The Clash. XTC. The Ramones. Music I still like today. There was a reason Tim was on the radio, other than to send me hurtling down memory lane. Radio K’s punk show had his old local band on, The Kungfools…as they were going to play a special one-time only reunion show at the Triple Rock that night. The very place that I was headed to at that moment for lunch. If I’d hung around long enough after lunch I might have seen them for sound check, but I desperately needed to go home to take a shower and a nap. Would have loved to have gone back later for the show, but I was in bed before they’d even taken the stage. Guess I’m not so punk rock anymore.

But I am a little concerned. I’ve got tickets for tomorrow night’s Andrew Bird show, but the City Pages site has it listed as cancelled. Anyone know anything about that? Tried calling the venue earlier but no one answered.

A smartass friend, who thinks he’s asian-by-marriage, wrote to me in response to yesterday’s post. Yes, Dave, I do know the proper way to eat noodles is with chopsticks, but if I started doing everything primly and properly I’d probably implode. And besides, I don’t always have chopsticks handy at work. So there. Or nyah nyah nyah nyah as the little man is so fond of saying these days.
Bonus: Here’s one blooming big bunny…behind a hill. Behold Gelitin…as if knitted by giant grandmothers.
Plus: A recent selection arrived from GreenCine and shockingly it was something the husband and I both wanted to watch. Read or Die! is the story of an underground international intelligence organization. They are secret agent…librarians. Pretty sweet.
And: I’m a procrastinator/time-waster from way-back, so this is my kind of list. It’s a NOT to do list, trying to keep your ass on task. It’ll never work, but I like the idea.

Saturday started off quietly enough. Lounging in pajamas. Eating pancakes. Visiting the St. Paul Public Library. A dash of chaos at lunchtime, because that’s just how Udupi’s lunch buffet is on the weekend. Afterwards, a little napping…with bonus acid reflux and vomiting, unfortunately (the new meds aren’t controlling the migraines just yet). Eventually I headed out into the evening, for a grown-up sort of night. The little man wanted to join me, and I very nearly considered it, but that would have cut the night much shorter. Which maybe wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. But still. I was in the mood for a non G-rated film. Sword of Doom was showing at the Oak Street. While I was intrigued, I didn’t think I could stomach the gore. Besides, I was in the mood for something sort of sad and uncertain. Broken Flowers fit the bill nicely (though I’m afraid Mr. Murray has become somewhat typecast). Afterwards I headed to Muddy Paws, to pick up a piece of vegan cheesecake for my lovely friend Maggie, whose birthday party I was headed to. My strategy had worked well. By getting out of the house before 7pm I was able to avoid lying down and and/or changing into my pajamas, thus increasing my chances of actually making it to the party. Which I did. It was quite pleasant to see the people. I am a people person. I like the people. It was so good to see these people that each goodbye took about an hour and I lingered until after 2am. Doh.

And it was a double-doh, in that I had agreed to participate in the Walk for Justice (on behalf of Compassionate Action for Animals) in the morning. I went to bed around 3am, woke up around 8am, neglected to have coffee or a decent meal, and dressed inappropriately…as it was much warmer than I’d anticipated, and I couldn’t find my good walking shoes. But still. I’d started my fundraising efforts late but still managed to meet my goal…by chipping in a chunk of change myself. And I got to walk with folks I haven’t gotten to hang out with in a while. Sadly the little man did not want to join me this time, as he has a host of toys that are still shiny and new enough to hold his attention. I felt a little guilty about not heading home right away after the walk, but instead enjoyed a leisurely meal at the Triple Rock…and then headed home for a shower and a nice nap. Not such a bad Sunday after all.
Bonus: Right now I want a cupcake the size of his fist. But I don’t want to become involved in any embittered cupcake battles. They probably aren’t vegan-friendly anyhow.
Plus: Quote of the day? How about Afrojet’s ode to the Wonderbar with “My favorite household project is anything that involves heavy demo.” Sorry ladies, he done got himself hitched.