I sent the link to the Christmas list post to my sister, brother, mother, the boy, and I can't remember who else. Apparently my mother and my sister had quite the conversation about my wish list, which can be condensed to one thought: Doesn't she have champagne tastes?
Well, yeah, I do! Momma, never forget who raised me. And sister, haven't you always told me to get the best that I can have in this world? So why are you surprised to find out that I like the finer things in life? Also, please remember, this is a wish list. This is not a list of requirements. It's to assist you in knowing what I'd like to have. It is certainly not all-inclusive, nor is the link exactly what I might want. (Except the knives. I really want that knife set.) Honestly, I'll be happy if you get me anything at all.
But sis? There's something you should know before you decide that I'm too big for my britches. Momma told me about your and her conversation about me while I was helping pick out your present, which is coming from a store that specializes in blue boxes.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Family
Dinner with my parents went better than I expected. There were, of course, a few hiccups, but overall the meal was good and the conversation was fun.
I'll take a bit of credit for the fun conversation.
Which leads me to this thought, which came to me as I was driving home: Why does this have to be so hard? Why is it that we can handle interactions and conversations with people we completely dislike, but spending time with our flesh, blood, or adopted families is so tough?
And herein lies my theory: We put on our masks and good behavior around those to whom we're not related. When we're with family, we let down all our guards and just be ourselves.
So let's try this at the next family gathering: Be on the sort of behavior you expect from yourself and others when you're non-intimates. You might have a much better time, and hopefully, discover a sense of humor (and yourself) that you didn't know you had with those folks.
It might be a beginning.
(If this post annoys you, blame the boy. He's spent a few years trying to convince me to back down, and it seems to be working.)
I'll take a bit of credit for the fun conversation.
Which leads me to this thought, which came to me as I was driving home: Why does this have to be so hard? Why is it that we can handle interactions and conversations with people we completely dislike, but spending time with our flesh, blood, or adopted families is so tough?
And herein lies my theory: We put on our masks and good behavior around those to whom we're not related. When we're with family, we let down all our guards and just be ourselves.
So let's try this at the next family gathering: Be on the sort of behavior you expect from yourself and others when you're non-intimates. You might have a much better time, and hopefully, discover a sense of humor (and yourself) that you didn't know you had with those folks.
It might be a beginning.
(If this post annoys you, blame the boy. He's spent a few years trying to convince me to back down, and it seems to be working.)
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Word Of The Year
Ah, thank ya, Mrs. Armstrong, for being able to get me out of both a bad mood and a writing slump. And for those of you who read both my site and hers, remember that the word you're looking for is INSPIRATION. Not that other word.
Anyhoo...
The other day I updated my Facebook status, commenting about being unfriended by a person who was subsequently suggested to me as a potential friend by said site. The debate moved from my personal pain to whether the correct terminology was "unfriend" or "defriend". Of course this got my weird little brain working.
To me, unfriending is a rapid process, not unlike ripping off a Band-Aid®. Perhaps the connection wasn't too strong, perhaps you never really liked the person you friended, perhaps you were looking for more entertainment, perhaps you were drunk and hit the wrong button. Doesn't really matter what the reason was; the point is, that person is (mildly) exterminated from your life.
Defriending, however, is a different matter entirely. In my mind, it means a slow, sometimes unnoticed exclusion of a person from your life. Something like the desalination process. You may still talk. You still care. Yet the friendship is ending. Somewhere in your head, you know it's true. You know that part of your intuition that wakes you in the night and says, quite clearly, "This isn't working"? That's the part I'm talking about.
And sometimes it's not that clear-cut. Yet if you pay attention, you see the end. It's sadder during and after the end. The person still remains of interest to you, but not to the extreme that you once cared.
Huh. Wonder if Webster's will pick up my distinction for next year.
Anyhoo...
The other day I updated my Facebook status, commenting about being unfriended by a person who was subsequently suggested to me as a potential friend by said site. The debate moved from my personal pain to whether the correct terminology was "unfriend" or "defriend". Of course this got my weird little brain working.
To me, unfriending is a rapid process, not unlike ripping off a Band-Aid®. Perhaps the connection wasn't too strong, perhaps you never really liked the person you friended, perhaps you were looking for more entertainment, perhaps you were drunk and hit the wrong button. Doesn't really matter what the reason was; the point is, that person is (mildly) exterminated from your life.
Defriending, however, is a different matter entirely. In my mind, it means a slow, sometimes unnoticed exclusion of a person from your life. Something like the desalination process. You may still talk. You still care. Yet the friendship is ending. Somewhere in your head, you know it's true. You know that part of your intuition that wakes you in the night and says, quite clearly, "This isn't working"? That's the part I'm talking about.
And sometimes it's not that clear-cut. Yet if you pay attention, you see the end. It's sadder during and after the end. The person still remains of interest to you, but not to the extreme that you once cared.
Huh. Wonder if Webster's will pick up my distinction for next year.
A Little Yeats
I read this today and found it lovely:
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)
"He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven"
I hope you find it lovely as well.
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)
"He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven"
I hope you find it lovely as well.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
My Christmas List
Here is my Christmas list:
1. Funky picture frames. I've got a lot of prints, reprints, and photos that I'd like to frame. I don't care if they're new - old, antique, whatever...I need them.
2. Towels. I don't have a link, specifically, but let the women in your life choose the colors. I use all sizes. Just be sure they're color-safe, as I have a tendency to destroy them with detergent.
3. Amazon gift card. So I can download more music. Might work well for you; I might make you a CD out of it.
4. Large frying pan. I already own a small and medium, but the way I've been cooking as of late, I need a large one. Not uber-large please.
5. Chef's knives. Mine completely suck, sans the one the boy gave me while I was up there. The rest are stainless steel (hah!) and ready for the recycle bin. (The link is to a set of quite possibly the most awesome set I've ever seen.)
6. Queen-sized bed sheets. I hear that ones made from bamboo are amazing, and I'd love to try them. If not, so long as they're at least 1000-thread count, we'll be golden.
7. Nintendo Wii. Asked for it last year to no avail, and will do the same this year, most likely to the same result. That's cool; this is a wish list.
8. Yankee Candle Club. I love love love their candles. Please?
9. Lady GaGa - The Fame. Judge as I know you will.
10. Digital camera. I saw some great deals leaked before Black Friday. I expect nothing, yet I'd love a new one.
11. Laptop. Again, Black Friday, and again, I expect nothing.
12. Digital photo printer. See the frame entry. I have so many fabulous pictures that really need to be shown.
13.Cordless phone. My home phone sucks beyond the telling of it. I've had to use my cell phone for calls, and we all know I have very few minutes on that account. Imagine the credit ratings I could destroy just talking to the boy!
14. Blackberry phone. Still not sure which one I want, mostly because I can't remember the recommendations given to me by friends. Hopefully it'll be able to transfer over the texts and photos I have on my current phone.
15. Bulgari Extreme. The only other perfume I love. It smells like a rainy forest and matches my body chemistry perfectly.
16.Car tires. Mine are ruined and have dry rot. I prefer safety, both to me and to the others on the road around me.
17. Chef's scoop. Much of what I make requires a ladle/scoop. I've love to have a real tool and not a miscreation of wooden and table-spoons. And unfortunately, I cannot find a link for this.
Remember that the links are suggestions and not requirements.
1. Funky picture frames. I've got a lot of prints, reprints, and photos that I'd like to frame. I don't care if they're new - old, antique, whatever...I need them.
2. Towels. I don't have a link, specifically, but let the women in your life choose the colors. I use all sizes. Just be sure they're color-safe, as I have a tendency to destroy them with detergent.
3. Amazon gift card. So I can download more music. Might work well for you; I might make you a CD out of it.
4. Large frying pan. I already own a small and medium, but the way I've been cooking as of late, I need a large one. Not uber-large please.
5. Chef's knives. Mine completely suck, sans the one the boy gave me while I was up there. The rest are stainless steel (hah!) and ready for the recycle bin. (The link is to a set of quite possibly the most awesome set I've ever seen.)
6. Queen-sized bed sheets. I hear that ones made from bamboo are amazing, and I'd love to try them. If not, so long as they're at least 1000-thread count, we'll be golden.
7. Nintendo Wii. Asked for it last year to no avail, and will do the same this year, most likely to the same result. That's cool; this is a wish list.
8. Yankee Candle Club. I love love love their candles. Please?
9. Lady GaGa - The Fame. Judge as I know you will.
10. Digital camera. I saw some great deals leaked before Black Friday. I expect nothing, yet I'd love a new one.
11. Laptop. Again, Black Friday, and again, I expect nothing.
12. Digital photo printer. See the frame entry. I have so many fabulous pictures that really need to be shown.
13.
14. Blackberry phone. Still not sure which one I want, mostly because I can't remember the recommendations given to me by friends. Hopefully it'll be able to transfer over the texts and photos I have on my current phone.
15. Bulgari Extreme. The only other perfume I love. It smells like a rainy forest and matches my body chemistry perfectly.
16.
17. Chef's scoop. Much of what I make requires a ladle/scoop. I've love to have a real tool and not a miscreation of wooden and table-spoons. And unfortunately, I cannot find a link for this.
Remember that the links are suggestions and not requirements.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
It's About That Time
I'm working on my Christmas list. I don't do this to harass you regular readers into giving me presents (REALLY!) but to have a place to send my family when they start asking what I want.
The first thing I want is a new copy of Rihanna's Good Girl Gone Bad Reloaded CD. I've played mine so often this year that it's dying a terrible death, a death consisting of songs skipping while I'm in the shower. So clearly you can see the need.
Wade's got this one covered, so the list will expand soon. Again, please don't feel obligated to ask for my address. :)
PS - I found my post office box keys. I don't remember my keys being in the pocket of that jacket, but hey, who ever said I was clever?
PPS - Still working on Seattle stories. I realized that the teasers I mentioned are more inside jokes than anything else. Also, I need to grab my photos off my camera and put them onto this machine to share.
PPPS - Anyone else seen the beginnings of the Black Friday deals? Dude, I'm totally going to be late to work that day.
PPPPS - Rihanna's new single, Russian Roulette, is awesome. I don't care what Perez Hilton says.
The first thing I want is a new copy of Rihanna's Good Girl Gone Bad Reloaded CD. I've played mine so often this year that it's dying a terrible death, a death consisting of songs skipping while I'm in the shower. So clearly you can see the need.
Wade's got this one covered, so the list will expand soon. Again, please don't feel obligated to ask for my address. :)
PS - I found my post office box keys. I don't remember my keys being in the pocket of that jacket, but hey, who ever said I was clever?
PPS - Still working on Seattle stories. I realized that the teasers I mentioned are more inside jokes than anything else. Also, I need to grab my photos off my camera and put them onto this machine to share.
PPPS - Anyone else seen the beginnings of the Black Friday deals? Dude, I'm totally going to be late to work that day.
PPPPS - Rihanna's new single, Russian Roulette, is awesome. I don't care what Perez Hilton says.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
A Little Mail Is A Dangerous Thing
Let's start with some truth: I hate to check my mail. Hate it. So I rarely check it more often than once a week, and often it'll be ten days between trips to the mailbox.
So I should have, but I didn't check the mail before vacation. It'd probably been five days prior to departure when I last checked. When I got back I finally dragged myself over to the mail emporium (I don't know what else to call it. Mail kiosk?) to see just how stuffed my box was (hush!).
There was nothing. Not one thing. This was a bit disconcerting, so when I got to work, I called my landlord to see if, just maybe, hoping upon hope, that the postman had gotten frustrated with me and left my mail at the office. "No," the lady said, "But often if you don't check your mail, they'll just take it back to the post office."
Wonderful. This was Monday, and I couldn't get over to the post office until this morning (Saturday). My work hours overlap the post office's hours, and I don't have time during lunch to get that far and back to my scintillating job. Today I asked the nice lady at the post office if she happened to have my mail. She did not. She told me I've have to call the carrier to see if it's with him. Wonderful, I thought. I have to work! And I know I've got some bills coming due! So Monday morning at 7:30 I will be on the phone with my mail carrier.
In the interim, I decided to change my address to have all my mail delivered to my P.O. box. I mean, if the mail's at the physical post office, USPS has to keep it for me, right? (But I will check more regularly, I promise!)
On my way out, I decided to check said P.O. box, because that's where the bar delivers my mail. No keys. My box keys were gone. "Don't panic!" I told myself, since my first instinct always is to panic. I took apart my purse, looking for the keys. I tore through my car, methodically, I swear!, looking for the keys. No keys. I drove home and looked at the basket where I keep my keys. No keys.
I got back into my car. While driving back to the post office, I was imagining the cost of replacing the keys. Replacing the keys to my safety-deposit box is seventy-five dollars, if memory serves. So I was thinking it would be about fifty-ish dollars. Dollars I DO NOT HAVE, incidentally, after a long trip.
Turns out it was six dollars to replace and I had to give a dollar deposit, so a total of seven dollars got me back in business.
But I really am an idiot.
So I should have, but I didn't check the mail before vacation. It'd probably been five days prior to departure when I last checked. When I got back I finally dragged myself over to the mail emporium (I don't know what else to call it. Mail kiosk?) to see just how stuffed my box was (hush!).
There was nothing. Not one thing. This was a bit disconcerting, so when I got to work, I called my landlord to see if, just maybe, hoping upon hope, that the postman had gotten frustrated with me and left my mail at the office. "No," the lady said, "But often if you don't check your mail, they'll just take it back to the post office."
Wonderful. This was Monday, and I couldn't get over to the post office until this morning (Saturday). My work hours overlap the post office's hours, and I don't have time during lunch to get that far and back to my scintillating job. Today I asked the nice lady at the post office if she happened to have my mail. She did not. She told me I've have to call the carrier to see if it's with him. Wonderful, I thought. I have to work! And I know I've got some bills coming due! So Monday morning at 7:30 I will be on the phone with my mail carrier.
In the interim, I decided to change my address to have all my mail delivered to my P.O. box. I mean, if the mail's at the physical post office, USPS has to keep it for me, right? (But I will check more regularly, I promise!)
On my way out, I decided to check said P.O. box, because that's where the bar delivers my mail. No keys. My box keys were gone. "Don't panic!" I told myself, since my first instinct always is to panic. I took apart my purse, looking for the keys. I tore through my car, methodically, I swear!, looking for the keys. No keys. I drove home and looked at the basket where I keep my keys. No keys.
I got back into my car. While driving back to the post office, I was imagining the cost of replacing the keys. Replacing the keys to my safety-deposit box is seventy-five dollars, if memory serves. So I was thinking it would be about fifty-ish dollars. Dollars I DO NOT HAVE, incidentally, after a long trip.
Turns out it was six dollars to replace and I had to give a dollar deposit, so a total of seven dollars got me back in business.
But I really am an idiot.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I Know, I Know...
I didn't write while I was away because I had no access to internet that I didn't have to pay outrageously for. I think you'll understand that.
I do intend to tell you about my trip. It's just that right now it all feels so personal, and there's only so much I want to share. Some - OK, a lot - are just for me and the boy.
But there are stories of overpriced cupcakes, overly loud music, pocket monsters, and daily strolls through the city to share.
I did love Seattle, but it's not my home. I still prefer DC.
Forgive my need for time. I also have a story about the perfect crying storm on the flight back that you need to know. For this one, I will blame Augusten Burroughs and his fantastic new book.
I do intend to tell you about my trip. It's just that right now it all feels so personal, and there's only so much I want to share. Some - OK, a lot - are just for me and the boy.
But there are stories of overpriced cupcakes, overly loud music, pocket monsters, and daily strolls through the city to share.
I did love Seattle, but it's not my home. I still prefer DC.
Forgive my need for time. I also have a story about the perfect crying storm on the flight back that you need to know. For this one, I will blame Augusten Burroughs and his fantastic new book.
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