Happy birthday, April M.!
Happy early Mother’s Day, Nibbler!
Happy First Time a Logo of Mine Made it onto a Notepad & Magnet!
Monthly Archive for April, 2005
Oh, thank you, UPN! They finally updated the link so I could see 2 min. of the opening scene to next week’s Veronica Mars. I still have a horrible feeling in my gut for the characters, but at least it isn’t a twisting one anymore.
*intrigue!* We may have a new tenant moving in soon. And one of the duplexcats may be having kittens. *gasp!*
Today, about a year and a half after my X-treme Expression series ran, I found out the Publisher really liked it. (Hopefully it won’t be another 18 before I remember to tell Quilla what a good job she did with her story about GSCC’s Conversation Partners program…)
Which reminds me, I need to e-mail Roger with all the latest scoop, since I promised not to blog about it anymore.
I also really need to vacuum in here. (Or, in Jaimie terms “use the sweeper.”) Until she couldn’t use her tongue as much, I never realized exactly how much hair Satine must swallow while cleaning herself. She’s turning into Toonces.
The young guy lost to the old guy 860 to 719.
Two episodes of Veronica Mars to go. The revelation in the final scenes last night were a stab in the gut, even though you had to know something like that was coming. Curses to UPN for updating their website incorrectly. We’re supposed to be able to see the opening scene for next week, only the link is to an episode preview from 3 weeks ago.
Satine tried to lick my fingers last night. Aw.
I went to Lorna’s last night for a “girls night” dinner. She’s getting married in the fall and all the rest of us were already hitched, so Patti suggested we give her married advice. Mine? Find out if he has any undisclosed debt before you wed. Finances are the number one ticket seller for Newlywed Divorce, kiddos.
After posting about Satine’s tongue woes, I felt we should at least call the vet and see if something should be done. They wanted to see her. And then they wanted to keep her. Total cost for kitty tongue sutures, an overnight vet stay and a bottle of antibiotics: $185.00. (Insert your own X = Priceless comparison here.)
After leaving an unhappy Satine at the vet’s, we went to the Geej’s. Kris mowed the lawn while I visited. And then we had to walk the lawnmower and a wheelbarrow of yard tools back to our house. It was on this (very loud) stroll that we passed a man on Newton Street who gave us a jovial “oh, the wacky antics of kids these days” smile.
Kris went to vote this morning (a local commission district election) and despite the fact that yesterday he was a blonde and this morning he was a brunette, one of the voting officials still recognized him as “hey, didn’t I see you pushing a wheelbarrow down Newton Street yesterday?” Kris came back and told me where all of the voting officials lived.
This is the type of thing that amuses me about small-town living. When I went to vote an hour later, as soon as I walked in, the man announced “here comes the Mrs.!” And then I proceeded to learn firsthand that one of the volunteers lives on my street and one on South 8th and so forth. I told them my grandmother’s name because they realized she was “the one who bought Frank’s house.”
As fun as old peeps are, I still hope it’s the 19 year old who wins the election.
Friday’s Joan of Arcadia finale was a letdown and a half. I so hope Veronica Mars doesn’t lose as much steam in its sophomore season.
Moving the Abs was a 12-hour day on Saturday, but it was good work. It made me want to come home and rearrange our furniture. These things I learned about the Abercrombie clan: Zach packs really heavy boxes, Kristie is an even greater candle aficionado than Kris and I, and Faith has a creepy hell-light in her new bathroom.
Over the course of the weekend, I had the suspicion that there was something wrong with my cat’s tongue. When we let her inside Friday night, she had all this red dirt in her white fur. Red dirt that’s still there. On Saturday morning, she let me pet her without once swerving her head to lick my fingers. Usually, she is quite the licky kitty. She wasn’t even lapping up the water dripping from the bathroom faucet. So while she slept on Sunday, Kris pulled open her mouth.
Satine’s tongue has been forked, people.
It’s not down the middle, more along one side. It was a little green yesterday. I couldn’t see it well this morning, but she’s at least moving her tongue again. Eating, and drinking from the faucet. If it’s already starting to heal, I don’t see the point in taking her to the vet… to what, have stitches put in her tongue? But it fills me with a very “poor, poor kitty” feeling. She’s under house arrest for a few days.
In house news, Kris hung the bathroom light we bought last fall. You could get a suntan in there now. And my dad came by to help the hubby take a load of junk to the dump. All that stuff we yanked out of Brad & Cindy’s place in December? Was still sitting next to the barn. But not anymore!
Happy Earth Day, everybody! Recycle your cans, make sure the dishwasher is full before you turn it on and don’t forget to carpool.
Since it’s Earth Day, that means the ‘net is prolific today with ads for the Toyota Prius, which just rubs salt in my wounds. I’d love a Prius. I would even consider making car payments to own one, and for me, that says a lot. Alas, tis but a green dream.
Speaking of advertising, wouldn’t it be great if they got Julia Louis-Dreyfus to do the marketing for the re-introduced sponge contraceptive?
Kris and I will be “getting our move on” tomorrow as the Abercrombies transport their stuff from the Southside of Etowah County to the south side of Birmingham. And then in another month or so, we’ll volunteer our services to move another friend about 10 blocks.
And I foolishly thought 2003 was the Year of the Move.
I’ve been working at The Times for five years now. (Forgot to mention my 5th anniversary back in March.) In these five years, I’ve had six addresses. The first two weeks, I still lived with my parents. Then I moved to Rainbow City for two years. I lived on Broad Street for one year, on 9th St. for one month and at 202 Argyle Circle for eight months. I will be proud when we reach the two-year mark at 204 so that I can at least live here for as long as I lived in sh*thole 711.
In order for that to happen, I need the empty house down the street from not to go on the market. Cause if it does, I’m sure Kris and I would do something insane like make an offer on it.
Several years ago (like, I was living at ye olde apt. 711), I made a compilation of Waterdeep tunes. At the time, it seemed to me a pretty perfect collection. (A total of 79 minutes, 59 seconds, to boot.) A blend of rocking tunes, worshipful moments, Don leading songs, Lori leading songs, etc. Somewhere along the way, I gave the cd away. Hey, I can make more. And of course, I never made another one.
Last night I finally got around to burning another one. But as I prepared to rock out to Lori singing “Everybody’s Guilty,” I noticed something was amiss. It was the wrong recording. In the years since I compiled my Waterdeep mix, I’ve amassed a lot more live recordings. And three of the songs that were so unique on my old mix lost their rare gem status now that the songs have been released on albums. (Namely, “At Least I Got a Car,” “Long on Diagnosis, Short on Cure” and “People Go By Like a Flame.”)
Lori still totally rocks out “Everybody’s Guilty,” though, so I might just make a new mix. But how to decide what tunes to use? Focus on live stuff? Include solo stuff? Best overall?
Kris said I should make a Waterdeep cd for Brad. “What kind?” I asked. If it were for Jaimie, I’d make sure “The Razor Light” and “Gospel Train” were on it. Any collection for me or Liz must include several with Lori leading. Zach’s a big fan of Don’s first album, so I’m sure there would be a lot of just Don and his guitar. But what for Brad, fan of hardcore bands, U2 and Elvis?
It’s a toughie.
I let yesterday’s news (food pyramid) affect what I ate for breakfast this morning. Instead of my yummy cinnamon roll pop-tart staple, I had oatmeal.
Here’s a little tidbit I forgot from the weekend: at church on Sunday, there were a lot of visitors. Sometimes, when this happens, Michael has everybody get up and introduce themselves to someone they don’t know. Man, I hate that. But I shook hands with a couple of dudes, a Bill and a Bruce. One of them said “hey, you’re in even so!” I faltered a bit, cause I can be a stickler for detail at times, and technically I am no longer in even so as it doesn’t really exist anymore. But, hey, I guess it’s nifty to still be recognized for something, esp. since the last time I could have been seen with the band was 2002.
On the fame scale, though, it wasn’t as funny as being called out at the Judicial Building as “you’re Jaimie’s friend!”
I’ve begun the big map of DeKalb County for the next progress edition. Intriguing municipality names that didn’t make the map: Pumpkin Center, Lickskillet, Skaggs Corner, Rodentown, Chigger Hill and Skirum. There is a Grove Oak and an Oak Grove. Plus, there are two Shilohs. One Shiloh is never enough.
One food pyramid wasn’t enough, either, which is why there are now 12. What kind of robots actually eat the advised amounts of fruits and vegetables and get the daily recommendation of exercise? I am so much more a healthy eater/exerciser now than ever before and still I come nowhere close.
I’d keep a food log to get an idea where I fall short except that I don’t know how to answer some stuff. Like, if you buy a box of broccoli rice au gratin, is there enough freeze-dried broccoli in there to count? Do freeze-dried veggies still have their antioxidants or whatever mojo they’re packing?
I feel like I’m doing good if I manage to do 20 minutes of Pilates three times a week (which I rarely manage). But no, they want an hour of varieted exercise a day. What? Are there really people out there jogging an hour every day and limiting their calories from sugar and fats to 325? Without the aid of a personal trainer?
You know those appliances that you can buy to heat your hair in a cylindrical fashion? Yeah, I call them “curling wands” and apparently I am the only person around my peeps who does so. I guess Kris thought it was cute, so he told he Brad. “Hey, you know what Laura calls her curling iron? A curling wand.” And Brad thought it was funny, so he told Cindy. She thought it cute, too, like I thought it was somehow magic that made the hair curl.
I thought to myself, hmm… if two people who do hair professionally and a girl who wasn’t raised in Alabama think my terminology is quaint and noteworthy… they must have never heard this before… and yet I didn’t make it up… why do I call it a curling wand instead of an iron?
So, of course, I decided to Google it. Google knew exactly what a “curling wand” was, as evidenced by the pages of sites where I could buy one. (And a page about Buffy’s bad hair in S4.)
The internet has reaffirmed to me that I am not crazy; the terms “curling iron” and “curling wand” are interchangeable. Google cannot, however, explain to me why I am the only one of my peers who says wand. I’m assuming it’s what my mom called it. I suppose I will remain alone on the Island of Wand.
