Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I thought about rice cakes, but no

Too exhausted. Made MRE palak paneer over brown rice instead. No preservatives, hurray!

Brown rice in a shallow soup bowl *could* be considered a carbohydrate food disc. It's all flat and circular! But composed of individual elements, so....but then so is a crepe, on the molecular level!

It's all a matter of perspective.

Yay, I went looking for chickpea flour at the job lots store since I know they have that whole set of those flours and whatever--what are they called? Red Mill. But they did not have the chickpea flour. Alas!

But! In a dramatic reversal, that store DID have a giant 5' x 9' dark green berber rug of somewhat low quality for $30! Perfectly suited to the potential depredations of an unknown dog! It fills up my whole office and is nice and comfy on the bare feet. I will go over it later and color in the bare spots with a marker!

It was funny to look at rugs and think, "Okay, this one is sort of light tannish like the kitty's fur, but cat barf will show up way too easily. Fur vacuums off. Let's go with dark green."

I also got a sort of runner that's navy blue for $6. I made out like a pistol-packing mustachioed lobster bandito, yo.

Could I make up a thing like that? I mean, I certainly hope so, but in fact I didn't.

Lookit, my Bones shrine complete with patron saint of television! It was kind of accidental! Jen made the Bones ikon for me and Sumara sent me the flowers and they obviously had to go together. Accidental, see? But I love it.

I wanted to leave Crichton and Pilot in the picture above to the left, but I had to crop out Eick above to the right. Why are they still in there? Must evict. (Two people who each separately failed to hire me when given the chance should NOT be allowed in my shrine of awesomeness, despite the awesomeness of at least one of them. All Boreanaz did was look at me funny for not turning right on red. That is reasonable.)

So today I got a bill for $12,000 for the surgery and another one for $1800 for the CT scan. Ha ha ha! I mean, that's not good. I totally underestimated how much that would all be! By about a third! Wow. Plus of course they sent another copy of all the outstanding bills. It made a stack of envelopes two inches high! Wow.

I just paid off another one today, though. I'm paying them off as fast as I can. We shall see! Chop chop chop and eventually down comes the tree. I mean, it works for beavers. It works for crazy people who build cathedrals out of toothpicks. I write giant books one word at a time, unless the cat steps on the keyboard, of course. Persistence wears things down. Look at the Grand Canyon!

And like my lawyer friend says, what are they gonna do? Put my gall bladder back in? (I really hope they didn't save it, just in case.) Anyway now I can call them and get them to put everything into one account and set up a reasonable monthly payment and everyone will be all calm and stuff. And then I can try to pay more each month if I can and it'll eventually (eventually) go away.

Maybe it's time for a yard sale! Want to buy my yard?

Hmm, this evening...I have a headache that feels exactly like I have one of my headbands on. You know, the ones that give me terrible headaches? I seriously keep trying to take my headband off, or take my ponytail out, but neither one of them is true. Fictional hair accessories! I blame you!

I'm VERY pleased about the rugs. I'll have to haunt that place, looking for another one for the living room and another runner to finish the hallway. I've been knitting like crazy through World Cup and the first rug is only eight inches long. It looks like a scarf. Time is passing! New lease begins end of July! I have to get ready. Get kitty his shots, get rugs, get dog beds. I think that's about it. Oh yeah plus permanent whatsit thing. Then get DOG. Dog! DOG!

It's going to be so much nicer in here in the winter with rugs, seriously. Like infinitely nicer. Plus I can stop running the Zamboni around from room to room to smooth out the ice all the time. Phew!

What's it like?

I was trying to explain to Jen! Who is possibly going into hiding in a distant land under an assumed name to escape any more explanations!

But just think back to when Entertainment Weekly (or one of their minions) said that I write like someone on a two-week caffeine bender. Remember that, when I was all super-hero and made amazing things happen and ran around new cities like my feet didn't touch the ground and stuff? That was then. And then there was A Dark Time. And now that then seems to be BACK. Sort of suddenly, actually. Like, Saturday or Sunday.

It could just be World Cup fever you know. That is a fever caused by World Cup. So true.

What's it like?

It's like (as I said to Jen) having two glasses of champagne at a really fun party, only all the time!
And you can't sleep! Not even naps.
And you're exhausted because of no sleep.
But sort of giddy!
Things are very very fun.
Doing work is very fun!
Doing fun things is very fun!
Work gets done very quickly and accurately!
You might have a lot of brilliant ideas! Write them down. Because zoom! Off to the next one!
Sometimes you are compelled to buy three versions of Het Wilhelmus off iTunes!
But in your defense, one is a brass-heavy wind ensemble of the type you used to play in!
Everything is sort of MORE SO!
And you're not hungry! Except for extreme cravings for feijoada or ice cream or crepes.
And time has sped up but only for me! Everyone else is walking in pudding!

It's awesome. Except for the part with the half snake and branch that may or may not have been there, though that followed waaaaaaay too much sleep, not none. Ooh, maybe it's a representation of the broken health care system, like a busted and mangled caduceus? Do you think? I still think Gaeta was Hermes. I'm wavering on Dualla as Hestia, though. See, some might say Cally, but she's so awful. Maybe Dualla was Isis. Hmm.

It might be World Cup fever, truly, all that gigantic vicarious emotion! And emotional engagement in something, period! Or it might be from language study, which as you know, Bob, causes all sorts of fancy brain activity and new synapse formation and all that good stuff that makes you not get Alzheimer's when you're old. Or it might be from new habits like, oh, exercise (imagine!) and eating way too many blueberries (blueberry psychosis!) or from not getting enough sleep AT ALL no matter how hard I try. I do try. I get in bed and turn off the lights and think sleepy thoughts. And then five hours later I'm still there, wondering whether the moon can cast that shadow on my curtains, and what it might be from, because the tree is further over that way. And then of course the tweedly chirpy chirp birds roust me out at the crack of dawn, essentially five minutes after I finally get to sleep.

Though I'm sort of characterized by Intense Enthusiasms That Are Intense. That is my main character trait, I might even say. Intensely! And so it has been since I was a very small human with very small (but intense) enthusiasms.

Is it something to worry about or fix? Naaaah. I would have liked to have fixed the Dark Time, which sucked for everyone, but this is awesome and correct and right and excellent, though I seriously am going to need to sleep at some point. This...remember when I wrote a whole pilot in 24 hours? Remember when I'd head out to the store for oatmeal and then think, hmm, and turn right, and climb all the way to the top of Mt. Hollywood and look out over the city and then come back down in the twilight and THEN go to the store? Yes. If there's a Dr. Jitterbug Jekyll and Ms. Boring Grumpypants, then I'd much rather be Dr. J, thank you very much.

Time to head home. I strongly recommend you listen to Het Wilhelmus, a version with singing, because it's glorious music.


I couldn't remember what it meant. Lo! (Chuck? Chevy?)

I'm especially charmed by snowplows, which hunt or chase or catch or quarry snow. Also that they felt the need to include both plow and plough, like we wouldn't figure it out. Awww.

Found in dictionary: French > English.


Related phrases
1. hunt 2. go gunning for 3. shoot

chasse gardée

aller à la chasse au bécassine

aller à la chasse au furet

chasse aux sorcières
witch hunt

chasse à l'homme

1. snowplow 2. snowplough

faire la chasse aux rats
go ratting

chasse au renard

chasse aux rats

Are you not besmitten by languages? Become so!

The Dutch language lessons are colonizing my syntax and word roots! But now I can confidently say five or six things in Dutch and also can spell een beetje which makes me VERY happy. It means ein Bisschen and is cognate too. Really, cognates should be near the top of the list of things which bliss me out. Cognates! I love them!

I also just outrageously love how Dutch is a cousin to what English would have been when it grew up if not for those pesky Normans barging in and stirring up the soup. I mean you can see how they were close cousins in about the year 1000 but then English went all bananas with the Latinates. Though there were already some language remnants from the Romans, like cheese and wine. Hey, did the Romans set up camp in the Netherlands ever? How do I not know this? Where is my copy of Julius Caesar? Was it part of the tres partes in which omnia Gallia was divisa-ed? Eh?

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Culturally significant food discs!

Yesterday, masa harina tortillas. Get the orange bag if you're going to make some. Well, get the bag that's in Spanish, duh. Yum, those tortillas! I had the leftover ones for lunch with my feijoada and holy cow were they good. Flexible and strong and just delicioso. Yum. They taste so good!

Today in culturally significant food discs: I wanted des crepes, and des crepes is what I got! I kind of got a LOT of crepes but they are super thin. Plus you use 1/2 cup of flour for the whole batch, plus two eggs, plus I used soy milk instead of cow milk. So not exactly echt French (hee) but oh so goooooood. The secret is to let the batter rest for half an hour before you cook them. Did you know that? I did not know that. It was a secret! One that was written right there in Joy of Cooking, but that's a big book of arcane lore.

I made some strawberry compote kind of stuff to spread in them while it was still warm, and ate each crepe as it came off the griddle. SO HAPPY.

I want to make soccas because a) look at the name! and b) they're made of chickpea flour so it's like your usual culturally significant disc food only proteined up! How cool is that?

This inexplicable desire not to go to the store and instead cook up everything that's in the cupboards and freezer has led to the best cooking. That feijoada! So good! I might have to get some veg though. Veg and fruit. But the powerful desire not to eat bread that I haven't baked myself combined with the inability to bake any is making me bake and griddle (verb?) and otherwise prepare a wide variety of carbohydrate discs of strongly nationalistic identity!

Do you think there's a connection between nationalistic food discs and soccer? Is that what's going on? Funny one, brain!

Spain won! Cristiano Ronaldo just spit on the cameraman after Portugal lost their game and got kicked out of the tournament. Classy. Well, it probably wasn't the best time to jam a camera in the man's face, was it? Oh, the goalkeeper is sobbing. That's so sad! But also part of the game that I love, I admit it. Emotional athletes! I mean, they're always emotional, but these have the whole range of human emotions, right? Yeah!

Today my hair turned long. Isn't it odd that it's sort of a quantum thing like that? I mean it's highly medium length but it crossed some length line.

Want to know a very fun thing to do? Here are two:

1) listen to Teach Yourself Dutch tapes while working and repeat everything out loud, even though you're using headphones. (No one was around, but still. Fun times!)

2) Use Google Translate to generate lots of lovely sentences in Dutch, which somehow transforms into a story as each line turns into dialogue back and forth.

3) Experience that familiar and ungodly freaking awesome thing that Dutch does to my brain. What IS that?

See, my love affair with Dutch is far from new. In fact in grad school I tried really hard to get sent to the Netherlands on a study away program so I could learn lovely chewy gorgeous Dutch, the oatmeal cookie of languages. But advisor said no! She said, Focus on your main subject here. And in figuring out I should not go, she looked at my records and said I needed to take some electives, something not languages or literature. So I took medieval Scottish history (awesome!) and then I took screenwriting. And the rest is history.

Heh heh. Bet she wishes she'd let me go learn Dutch!

How can I explain the mind-boggling brain magic that is Dutch? A lot of words are the same as in English but pronounced slightly differently. And what isn't Englishy is Germanish. The number of words that you'll recognize from English or German is high already, but then add in the fact that I'm saturated with Anglo-Saxon and Middle English and I studied Norwegian enough to have conversations in it.

The effect is that I understand a lot of it, but sort of by listening with areas of my brain that are normally strictly separate. Know what I mean? It's the most amazing experience. As if understanding a language I don't know weren't amazing enough, the crazy unlocked brain feeling is dazzling.

Sure, it can possibly remind you of being under strong anesthesia or that one time you had a severe concussion, or that one time with the margaritas, woo, but in a good way! In the very best way.

I didn't bring the book today, just the tapes, so I kind of got into trouble because I need to know how things are spelled. I'm all visual with words. Language learning, you know you have to see it, hear it, and say it. Too bad I can't find the book nowhere nohow. I seem to remember it's a small pamphlet and it's orange...but the only one I can find is for the Norwegian tapes. Humph.

One of the other things I learned today was that you can add multiple specializations to teacher certification fairly easily, assuming you have them, which I do. Languages, people! What do I love? LANGUAGES!

Yes. Languages I could certainly teach to beginners include Latin and German. And probably French. At this point I still speak French the best because I've been fluent most recently. Vraiment.

A useful list of things I love because it's fun to list them:

excellent humans
quilting and quilts
small human-powered boats
the kitty!
dogs dogs dogs
yarn...and knitting...but mostly yarn
science fiction
my favorite shows (Battlestar, Wonderfalls, Bones, Torchwood, Doctor Who, you know...)
fun times
yard work
awesome heroines
sensitive funny heroes
starched linen
blue blue blue blue blue

It's one of those lists you're supposed to make every once in a while to bring your focus back into focus so you can, I don't know, focus?

I mean I'm pretty good about combining a lot of those things, like the days when I sew blue quilts while drinking tea and watching Bones with the kitty nearby. Or watching Dutch soccer while starching blue linen and drinking tea with the kitty nearby! Both of which I've done in the past, oh, 24 hours. But I get the point of it, which is that you should pursue the awesomeness and all. Rah, rah! I am working on it. Awesomeness pursuit, away! Tantara tantara! Tally-ho! A quest!

Anyway you should totally type lovely sentences into Google Translator and then imagine, oh, Arjen Robben saying them to you in a beautiful brain-unifying language. Just to choose a person at random.

"Would you like a cup of tea? That's a pretty blue kayak. Are you coming to the match this afternoon?" Hee.

I want a mini World Cup to go on the tv with the mini Stanley Cup and the Brennan and Bones ikon and the Wonderfalls lion and the DS9 station Helo and Crichton and Starbuck and Apollo and the Wallace and Gromit creators and the black labrador action figure and the two pistol-packing bandito lobsters with berets and flamboyant mustachios. And the dried flowers from Australia!

I feel I should have stroopwafels as my next culturally significant food disc, but where can I find them in this stroopwafel dessert desert? Where do you get obscure international foods in this small town? And an orange shirt for the game on the 2nd. I need supplies! Oh no, they're playing Brazil! We shall see.

You know...I have a krumkake iron. I could make Norwegian culturally significant food discs. Yes! Also naan, oatcakes, socca of course, and that big Ethiopian bread plate thing whatever it's called. Mmm.

Do you realize there is about to be a SOCCER PAUSE? For days and days! If you find me quivering in a corner, just gently kick a soccer ball at me and I'll snap out of it. There are a few (cough, cough) around the house here and there. Get my little niece to do it--she has a perfectly aimed rocket of a kick on that ball. Pow!

Monday, June 28, 2010

Starvation is the mother of invention

Actually that's probably true. Huh.

I came home starving and I'm all proud to say I cooked actual feijoada and made fabulous tortillas from the good kind of masa harina that I'm apparently so far knock on wood not allergic to. Phew! I'm scared to look in the mirror, though. My neck is kind of itchy. Denial! Denial! Denial!

But it's not like last time when I practically died and stuff. So that's okay.

They came out so beautiful. I can only assume it's the oatcakes in my genetic history---ooh. Interrupting myself because what a good idea, making oatcakes with the tortilla press. Holy cow. I bet they would be amazing, light and thin and gorgeous. I'll have to make up a batch and see how that goes.

After I wash the dishes, which have eaten every surface in the kitchen.

My boys of Netherlands won! Hurray! I have to go get an orange shirt, seriously. They were my pick to win the thing! If they can just get someone else to beat Germany for them, they could really go all the way. I haven't looked at the brackets to see how that would work out because I'm scared to get spoiled for the Brazil game, not that I don't already 80% expect Brazil to win, barring the astonishing unforeseen.

Notice anything about the site? More anonymous? Some people are creepily stalking me. If you are creepily stalking me, then yes, I'm talking about you. Cut it out.

Twitter is blocked now also. And I got off Facebook, but that's because Facebook is annoying. I'm sure I'll have to get back on to contact someone soon. It's a cheating kind of quitting because of course they save it just as I left it and then I show up all sheepish and no one has even noticed I was gone, which makes me mad, except why would they when I never, ever post?

I had the best idea blossom full-blown in my head today, while doing my superpower work skill and thinking about the books those imaginary pre-teen daughters will be reading, daughters of that imaginary guy who nonetheless is sort of a vivid presence over the last few days, much like my invisible Marine. Remember my invisible Marine? When Jacob gave him to me, he was instantly kind of, well, a presence. That's how this guy is. (No doubt they'd get along great. Hey, now they'll be company for each other! Like when you get two dogs.)

It's a side effect of writing too much. People you make up become outrageously real. And when you also spend all your time alone, the fictional people tend not to get jostled aside by those unpredictable real humans who can do stuff like move furniture and so on. So they get more present and take up more mental space. Fortunately they're good characters who have good effects.

Oh right! That idea! Yes. I LOVE IT. It wants to get written right now now now, like they always do. I seriously have to wash the dishes (and watch the Brazil game simultaneously) and then I get to do it. I got as far as the first slugline and remembered to check something that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't, and lo, it had not worked. Bastard!!!

I hate it when you trust a normally trustworthy system and it fails that trust. Now I can't trust it at all, which is annoying because sometimes it works. Stupid sometimes trustworthy system!

Right, that idea! I also rewrote the green witch book start with those preteen daughters in mind, which incidentally made it ten thousand times more awesome and a sudden coalition between opposites who both want the same thing only have different ideas about how to get it. I also might make the [something] part not [something] at all but more like finding your own superpowers in a world that is always trying to tell you who you are.

I hereby call the half snake omen: death of those demons that have been riding me. Dissertation, advisor, ex-fiance. Hey, it's my possibly imaginary omen. I can interpret it the way that feels right. Yaaaah!

Since watching Doctor Who yesterday I've had the theme song reverberating in my head, which reminds me: bring headphones tomorrow! Holy yikes, I got upset when I discovered I didn't have any today. Not good! Not good at all! No! Just think about the theme song for a moment and then imagine it playing nonstop in your head for 24 hours. No radio or anything there. Oh the humanity.

David Tennant's video diary was fascinating because a) what a beautiful human being, I could look at him all day, and b) I wonder if he's the origin of the gray aliens myth, with those giant eyes and small mouth and being so skinny? and c) he would be infuriating to live with because he wanders off mentally halfway through every thought, sometimes more than once. David Tennant! Pay attention, ellipsis man! Petit mal poetry slam! On the plus side, though, he has the loveliest accent.

Listening to English and Scottish people talk all day every day (as World Cup commentators) has made me notice this thing they do. They start with the pronoun then give the subject as an appositive, commentators. Just like that. So they'll say, "He really needs to charge in there and head the ball, Sneijder," only they're not talking to Sneijder. They're talking *about* Sneijder. Sneider is the "he" in question. It's a post-positive pronoun clarification and reinforcement appositive. If you don't mind that I'm misusing post-positive, me. And appositive, really. But what else can you call it? Oh Erin! Help!

It's a fascinating thing to do because it makes every sentence circular and also reinforces the subject, while usually sentences GO somewhere, meaning they end with something different than they start with. It also sounds vaguely German or otherwise continental. Are you drifting, British Isles? Who says the subject twice in two separate parts of the sentence? I cannot figure out what is up with that other than it's a tic.

It's also very fun to hear the one American guy pick up Anglicisms and English pronunciations and usages. For instance, when he's with Martin Tyler (YAY! Martin Tyler! I want a Martin Tyler action figure!) he will say Martin not the American way, which is (non-linguistics here) MARTn, but the English way, which is more MahTin. He actually Englishes the R! And he'll say "the team are" and things like that.

Most of the time he strikes me as someone who's been hit on the head too often, but he does know the game insanely well from a player's perspective. He just gets horribly inarticulate and says the thing next door to the thing he meant to say. Sloppy talking.

I might perish of happiness if they put the Scottish guy and Efan Ekoku on together. Can you imagine? They would be so brilliant and so funny, I'd forget to watch the game entirely. But no, the rule seems to be: one standard English talker, one "other."

I miss the guy who used to talk about putting the ball in the old onion bag.

Okay, so I'm *kind* of itchy and weird from the tortillas. But it's not dramatic like before. I swear. Couple of benadryls I'll be right as rain, which we also have in abundance right now. Some of it inside the house because I had to open every window in the place to calm down the smoke alarm from the tortilla griddle. Sheesh!

So much drama over one little dinner. Oh, it was so good, though. Feijoada for Brazil! Man I love that stuff.

Right, I'm on it.

And to the Netherlands team I say: Gefeliciteerd! Je bent geweldig! Too bad Google translator doesn't know you singular from you plural! Wait, I found a way to trick it into giving me second person plural: I asked it to translate "Congratulations! You eleven are awesome!"

Gefeliciteerd! U elf zijn geweldig!

Maybe I'll take my Dutch tapes to work tomorrow so I can have a head full of fabulous words full of z and j and plentiful vowels. Scrabble must be fun in Dutch. Though that sentence might be one of my favorites ever. U elf zijn geweldig! U elf! Win!

That was a trick again because Win! is apparently the same in both languages. Who knew?

The whoopie pie newspaper film connection

It's all because roommate mentioned he'd been to a whoopie pie festival this past weekend, upon which I shrieked, "There was a whoopie pie festival?" Because I would have gone. Guaranteed. Just for the glory of it! I don't think I would eat any whoopie pies. I used to make them in the bakery and you are basically shoving a lot of icing in your mouth. Ew! Says the person who had green icing for dinner last night. But it was vile and made me highly nauseous! So there. I learn from experience. And then I forget.

So because I missed the whoopie pie festival (argh!) I subscribed to the newspaper right then online so I'll know about things before they happen instead of after. And immediately after that I saw a link to an article about a filmmaker who is (you'll never guess) making a film in Maine. Click through to that and there is a whole wide world of crazy film activities going on out there in this green and leafy state that I never knew about. Can you imagine?

Suddenly I'm like, "Yes, I DO want to play a psychotic lunch lady who slaughters all her hated students and has only one line! Where do I sign up?" You know I would totally do great at that, too. The title is something about how there's blood everywhere, so much blood, blood blood blood! That sounds so ridiculously fun. I want to do it! Fake blood! Weird makeup! My current gestalt a bonus!

Plus, fictionally slaughtering students--cathartic!

Then I thought, "Holy crap, I actually could put together a reel for them." I could. I have scenes in every movie my students made. Holy crap. Seriously.

Remember how they always used to cast me as the mean mom who was all cruel and heartless and caused her son's death? Or the mean passerby who cruelly refused to help the poor confused person and caused that person's death? I know! See, I'm clearly born to play the lunch lady role, killing off yet more teenagers on film. It's what I do!

In my movies, no one died except the college student protagonist's hateful math professor, who totally deserved it. We shot him lying half under my car (which also appeared in every student film--my car was famous!) all tangled up with his bike, with a big puddle of red Crystal Octogon glooping all over the place. It was deeply awesome. And fills my head with many ideas as well as lots of sudden memories of Salem, because you consider your resources and available locations when you think this way. Hmmmm, those woods. Hmmmmm, that field with the path. The last thing I filmed was an epic tale of adventure and rescue starring two charismatic stuffed bunnies, because you use the actors you have.

Wouldn't it be glorious to get to do that kind of stuff again? Yes it would! It really, really would.

Plus you know how you think about stories so differently when you're considering how to shoot them? That's very helpful.

Isn't it strange how I suddenly fell into some kind of call and response format? Yes! Yes, it is.

Can I get a heck yeah? Heck yeah!


I think I would do better with novels if you gave me all the words and told me to arrange them in the right order, like a puzzle. Like a big box of "the" and a big box of "tea" and a big box of "yelped" and all the rest.

Thank goodness I remembered in an insomniac state yesterday (due to physical over-exertion, not lack of tiredness) that this detective was supposed to be tormenting our heroine and possibly framing her. I seriously forgot. I mean, he's in the list of characters. But I forgot.

It would all be a lot easier to remember things if I were suddenly infinitely wealthy and stayed home writing books half the day. (The other half I would be out riding my cobalt blue pony with my herd of golden retrievers, duh.)

Anyway point being: insomnia, yay! Should have taken some ibuprofin. Also the birds do not have to start singing their tweedly-chirp-chirp-TRILL songs just when it starts to be dawnlike outside, do they? What is the rush? Or they could all sing. It's when ONE bird starts singing directly outside my window with my window open that it wakes me up.

I am so tired right now you don't even know. Up early for the game! Up earlier to listen to chirpy birds! Awake so late!

And in between I watched a lot of soccer and Doctor Who (it is Televisual Items of English Origin Day) and made this:

Out of this:

And since I finally got the camera card into the computer, look, it's the soccer-watching inflatable bed throne seat chair couch thing!

Don't they look friendly? And really really related to each other and not to me? I find this picture completely HILARIOUS. Now. Also, insecure big black dog, yay! He's a good boy.

Notice how my bookcase quilt totally looks like a bookcase. Am I right or am I right? Bookcase! Notice the Meg Cabot section in each! (Both are pink.) I should have sewed a bunny on there for ultimate my-bookcase verisimilitude. Of course, I totally still can. Hey!

In sum, quilts are good.

Does the new one cause your synapses to fire irregularly and your eyes to jitterbug around as though looking at static on the television? Or does it shimmer in an aesthetically pleasing way? Honest answers only, as long as they're overwhelmingly complimentary. 

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Oh when the Yanks

I can't help it, during the England vs. Germany game, I kept imagining the USA team running onto the field during the second half and joining in. And together the Allies would defeat Germany!

Except there were way more allies than that, huh? My knowledge of world events is highly patchy after Henry V. No, really.

I kept thinking, "Help! They need help! Help them!" It probably made it worse that there were two guys in the stands in WWII pilot outfits. I mean uniforms.

Oh, poor England. How long do I have to wait to see Steven Gerrard again now? He's captain of Liverpool. Am new fan?

Which explains the EXCELLENT dream I had last night in which I was wearing the Newcastle black and white stripes. I nearly chased a real life guy I saw wearing that shirt at a Serenity screening once, figuring he might be my freaking soulmate or something. I think my sleep brain got confused between Newcastle and Liverpool, can you imagine such a thing? It is shocking. Because Liverpool wears red but in my dream Steven Gerrard was wearing the black and white stripes. Maybe I'm prescient! Who knows?

Oh, right, dream. I was watching a game wearing the Newcastle shirt and met an astronomy professor from the north of England who used to play semi-pro and still coached had two pre-teen daughters who were obsessed with my books. The ones I'd written, see. Which just proves I should be writing YA. And in fact I am. So there, dream brain. Oh and he had that excellent haircut which needs a name. Graceful Capitulation, maybe? Where their hair is receding and so they cut it super short, like nearly gone, like 1/4 inch. I don't know why but that's my favorite. Yes, I do know why. Because so many soccer players have it! Sheesh I'm predictable.

Anyway Dream Guy and I were talking in the stands after the game when everyone else had left and I mentioned I liked his North accent and he said....

Wait, you know this line. Right? Doctor Who.

"Lots of planets have a North."

I woke up SO SAD that he didn't exist! Maybe he does and I haven't met him yet. Gosh, way to go with the very thorough and detail-oriented wish fulfillment scenario, brain! Nice work! The Liverpool shirt was a really nice touch since it means Steven Gerrard is the route to my future fellow-being-having happiness. Aww. Thanks, Steven Gerrard!

Also Efan Ekoku, the commentator whose excellent Northern accent has clearly infiltrated my mind even when asleep. He's also tremendously funny, with a great dry humor and the best way of putting things.

In sum: obsessive, obsessive, obsessive. But, hey! Sleep mind was able to imagine a suitable mate person! Credit for that, okay? Too bad I have to be successful and multiply-published before we get to meet. TIME TO GO WRITE THINGS.

I think the astronomy part was a really nice touch.

What a fun weekend, yowza! Four awesome games in which I felt quite invested! Two of them went my way, so that's good. I got to wear my England and Argentina national jerseys for the appropriate games. I got to sew many things once the scores got to ridiculous and irreversible levels. So my quilt top is half sewed together! And I have a Doctor Who dvd to watch now that Online Job is also done. Oh but I have to wash the dishes first.

Hyperbole and a Half got me good, because I was thinking, "Clean all the things!" all excited, and then by the end of today I was making sad face and thinking, "Clean ALL the things?" with eyes all brimming with tears. Okay, not me, but in her drawing. Right. In the end I cleaned none of the things, which is not an acceptable result. (No, I cleaned the clothes. That counts for something.)

I did not, however, go out and buy food, which is why I tried to eat leftover icing for dinner. Warning: do not do this! Oh, you knew that, what with how you are not five years old, nor are you me.

I had a lovely lunch, tuna and triscuits and bell peppers. I guess life was too healthy because om nom nom. Scary nausea face! Stop.

How did my life get to be a comic book? Interesting.

Why do I like Argentina so much still despite the actual literal jilting that I associate with them? To be fair it was the Bon Jovi side of his family that wanted me gone. (His mom and Bon Jovi's mom are cousins.) The Argentina side liked me just fine and gave me a team shirt, the one I wore today, plus former future grandmother-in-law who lives there still liked me very much and sent me tiny presents. Twelve years ago.

So I'm glad they won. Or something. You want logic from me? I'm still reeling from the half a snake. Somebody solve that for me quick, because it's like a glitch in the Matrix or something, my brain is hung up on it and can't really get past it. What happened there? What? What? What?

I'm resisting going out there to look for remnants because a) it's been too long and coyotes or weasels or ravens or something would have eaten anything left out there, b) it's too scary to check on the reality of an event from yesterday, and c) I LOOKED YESTERDAY AND THERE WASN'T ANYTHING. Aaaaaagh!

I also keep thinking, "Don't tread on me with your lawn mow--aaaaaarrrrrrgh." Which is just funny.

Plus my cat was rooting for Germany. Shouldn't have named him Siegfried, the big blond bruiser. Fortunately cats don't gloat.

He spent the first half of the game lying on my lap, actually watching the tv. It's true. He does not watch soccer usually. Isn't that...coincidental?

And yes! Despite nearly killing myself mowing the grass yesterday and hallucinating half snakes (or whatever) the frelling bronchitis has mostly cleared up. I can even take a deep breath without hacking my lungs out. Yay! Drat, there goes my last excuse for not cleaning. But yay, I get to go to work tomorrow! Hurray!

If Steven Gerrard moves to Newcastle I will flip my wig. I am just telling you right now.

Aw, Michael Owen! I miss him.

Look! Stripey socks!

Saturday, June 26, 2010


Awesome list of appreciationness:

paddling watercraft
Doctor Who
so much soccer!
quilts so beautiful they make you say "oooh!"
remembering travel
my bike
Mr. Kitty
the atlas I bought at a library sale in Oregon, so I can find Slovenia now
flowers on the tomato plants, yay!

Wish list of plans with/and/causing future awesomeness:

dough mixer so I can bake bread again
Maine teacher approval formalities
library book club
exercise liftoff from so much soccer (well underway)
write books and books!
write screenplays!

Oh and the usual:

get rid of things I don't want or need, sheesh!
write so much every day (so much as in SO MUCH! not as in a given quantity, though that too)
fruit and veg, veg and fruit, grains and grains

And a new development:

oatmeal for dinner.

No, really! Guess what? Exercise is the biggest appetite killer I know. Well, also there isn't a heck of a lot of food in the house since I didn't go shopping yet. But there was oatmeal, which I love, so that's what I had for dinner, and it was perfect. Hot and filling, all whole-grainy, and I don't feel like I ate a house, NOR did I have to cook things. Excellent. I betcha I sleep better.

I can't remember what the hawk carrying the snake meant when I saw it whenever that was, last fall? This spring? I remember we came up with this great interpretation and I was so excited because it meant good things. So clearly half a snake that then disappears when my back is turned (STILL FREAKED OUT ABOUT THAT) must mean that whatever it is has gone away even yet still more.

Seriously. Where did that half a snake go? Where? Where? I did not tell you but I looked all around the lawn for evidence, including possible chopped up bits, but there were none. There was nothing. So weird.

Catching up the DVDs that have been sitting there for ages. Yes, I finally got tv and so now I'm watching my Netflix. Shhh. So I've finally seen the Runaway Bride episode of Doctor Who! Yay! And this whole giant extra thing about a concert of the music with all the various monsters there. I can tell you, I would be out of my seat and running down the aisle if one of those Cybermen walked up beside me. Not scary on tv, but in real life I would flip the heck out. Ack! (And I still don't like Daleks. Don't hate me.) Also, I miss Rose. Waaaah! Just *thinking* about that last episode makes me all wobbly and sad. Obviously it took me a million years to move on to the next one. Must catch up!

Guess what I'm waiting up for? The second airing of the USA/Ghana game, since my recording was only set to go 30 minutes extra and I missed literally the last minute of the game. (It went into two extra 15 minute periods in case you're not following it.) So I'm going to have to fast forward through three and a half hours to see the very end. I had to check online to make sure some miracle didn't occur where Landon Donovan shot a goal in the very last second. Nope. Sad.

Holy wow, a million coyotes (or wolves?) just started howling up a storm. That is a very freaky and scary sound when you're all alone in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. It *is* the full moon, I suppose.

Half snake interpreters? Help me out here! Or you could give only half an interpretation! That would be appropriate.

Half a...

Mysterious. Also, gross!

Mowing the grass, you know I go around and around in a circle, with the mower flinging the grass out to the outside of the circle. Well, I was going around in the far patch when I came up on a big branch, not in front of me but toward the inside of the circle, where I'd run into it next time. So I was going to pick it up and throw it off the lawn when I noticed hanging on it was...half a snake.

Well, I kind of shrieked. I mean it was all bloody with its intestines hanging out, just the back half of the snake. Gross!

Instead of picking up the branch I kept going around, kind of wigged out, and wondering: did I run it over? Did it get thrown there by the mower? But no, it was on the inside of the circle, not possible.

Then when I came around again, no branch. And no snake.



1. I'm totally hallucinating.
2. A hawk or eagle landed up in the tree above, broke the branch, and dropped its snake, then when I was far away again, swooped down and grabbed both snake and branch and flew off with it.
3. It was an omen of some sort. Call the haruspex!

What do you figure?

I kept thinking maybe I just mowed over it, but the branch was too big to mow over, which is why I looked at it in the first place.

I don't think I'd hallucinate a whole half a snake like that. Normally if I hallucinate from a fever it's something like I think that mice are running around just out of sight, or I think a stuffed animal moves. Or I see faces in the woodwork or the stucco or whatever.

Though we did go canoeing with the little niece today (SO CUTE! has her own little paddle!) and then I'd been mowing for two hours so I guess I might have baked my head, on top of whatever bug is zooming around in there.

It was real, though. I'm sure of it. I vote raptor, don't you? The eagle or hawk probably gripped it too tight in its talons and cut it in half, or ate the head off it. It was a garter snake, by the way. I saw one down on the path, too. And I've seen a hawk carrying a snake flying over my yard before.

Mysterious. I think the branch disappearing is the weirdest part.

Lawn all mowed, yay! Canoeing was fun. I was essentially a passenger and extra pair of hands in case junior went overboard or whatever--it was her first time in a canoe, though she was in a kayak as a baby. She was absolutely great, paddled along, asked a lot of questions, admired the goose on her nest, wore her little hat and Tevas and life vest like a champ. We went down to that lake where I always like to go best, Silver Lake. Though I should experiment and look around more. There are so many lakes!

I could not resist dressing like Uruguay today, internet. Blush! Sky blue shirt, black shorts. And to mow I put on my soccer socks and my cleats, for the reasons: a) deer flies like bare flesh, ow; b) I wanted to try the cleats to help my foot and you can't wear cleats with short socks. It's just not done! and c) soccer cosplay! Is that what you call it? What makes me have to dress up like the team I'm watching and liking at the moment?

However the USA game is on now and they're wearing white. I should stop the game and hit the showers, actually. And then dress up in all white, heh.

This morning I even put on a white headband like Diego Forlan wears. Oh dear!

I admit to a twelve year long fascination with Diego Forlan, though.

Gosh, Uruguay is SO GOOD. I want USA to beat Ghana. I do, I do. Fight fight fight! Look at my guys! Little Landon Donovan! Awesome Clint Dempsey! Baby Bradley! Bocanegra! Cherondolo! That Prince Boateng guy is terrifyingly good, though. Yoicks. And Ghana is mighty strong and fast.

Doesn't soccer make you want to run and run and run and get strong and fit and speedy and fleet? Yeah! Or at least mow the grass in tall black socks.

Friday, June 25, 2010

The big picture

Nice pictures of the World Cup, including (#26) that Italy player crying and being helped off the pitch by his friend.

Sort of heavy on the goofy pictures of people dressed as kangaroos and kiwis and light on actual game pictures, strangely enough. Also there's a picture of Glastonbury that's marked as people celebrating an England goal, but they all have their hands on their heads, which is *universally* what people do when someone misses a shot. It's true! All the players, the coaches, the staff, the fans. Even me, here at home, watching on time delay. You put your hands on your head.

So that moment was a missed shot, actually, Boston Globe. I am 100% positive of that.

I got caught up with all the games I wanted to watch today by, like, 4:30. It was weird! No, I still can't breathe one bit but I kind of do feel a little better. I really really dislike not having full breathing status. It makes me a little panicky if you must know.

However! I watched all my games and then watched weird broadcast Glee and Bones episodes while finishing up all the sewing of those quilt strips. All sewn up! Rock!

Broadcast = weird because they're broken up with commercials, unlike iTunes episodes, and unlike soccer games. Oh! Plus I watched The Gates. Women are life-sucking vampires and werewolves are gay! Or something. It was the funniest thing I ever saw, the way they were consciously or unconsciously equating being a werewolf with being a gay man. I SWEAR. Sit through the pilot and you'll see. HILARIOUS.

The teen antagonist boy is a werewolf but he wants to be with the cute girl who's his girlfriend and be all normal! But the other werewolf boys are like, "Run with us tonight!" And at one point he changed into a werewolf because his girlfriend was talking to the teen protagonist boy, only the boss teen werewolf boy tackled him! And he changed back to a human! Lying there naked! With this other boy sitting on him and holding him down! It was freaking hilarious, I am telling you right now.

Someone is having gay werewolf panic, I think. Sometimes even popular football players have these scary thoughts that must be suppressed and want to go run around at night with the other boys! Naked!

So after that I watched the Beyonce football episode of Glee again. Hee.

I only watched The Gates (I am sure you're wondering given how I can't stomach non-Buffy/Angel vampire/werewolf things) because a former DS9 writer is boss of it. First tv writer I ever met! It's true. Aaaaages ago, when I first got in to pitch to DS9 and all that. Anyway he didn't write it so don't blame him.

The police chief guy looks so much like him, at least at the beginning, I thought it *was* him, no kidding.

Oh, I tried to find you a still of the naked werewolf gay panic thing but the internet failed me. I suppose I could take a picture myself but that seems mean. (What? That makes no sense.)

Anyway! I might have to keep watching it just to see what on earth happens next. It's like Desperate Vampire Housewives but without the snarky sense of humor. Oh dear, it doesn't seem to have much sense of humor about itself at all. It's probably PERFECT for teen vampire/werewolf fans these days. Aren't they scary and humorless and beating people up who don't like Twilight? Brrrr.

So guess how many times I forgot I had bronchitis today? A LOT. I set up my bike on the wind trainer in the living room since all the running of soccer makes me frantic to exercise. And I biked a lot, all joyous and full of yay! And then I was like, "Holy crap, I can't breathe! Help! Gasp!" And then I remembered.

Yeah, I don't know why I can't seem to keep it in my head. Mysterious to me too. Especially since it actively hurts and buzzes like there's a beehive in the center of my chest.

I tuned that out for a long time in (sniff!) L.A. so maybe that's why. I have ignoring no-breathing skills! It's at least half asthma, what's going on. Fighting to breathe and all that.

Having the bike between the inflatable bed and the bookcase gave me vivid old apartment flashbacks, too. In a good way. Everything right there and cozy and safe. Only without endless infuriating noise from downstairs and next door, ha! Just lots of shooting on the weekends. Here, I mean. There was only shooting a couple of times near my old apartment, and only close by once. I seem to recall I hit the deck. As one does.

I finally figured it was skeet shooting. Here, again. It has to be. What else would you shoot that much for that long? Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam, etc. Only sometimes more than one at once, which makes sense, more than one person shooting at the skeets, if they're not very good.

That actually sounds really fun. Oh no, they've got me!

I was reading about will power, that thing about how every time you control an impulse, your ability to control impulses gets stronger. I'm working on it with, well, everything. I'm kind of ADD as well as OCD, what a heck of a combo, so all the time I never want to stop doing what I'm doing and I have to do it right but also my attention is jumping all over the place. Recipe for crazycakes! So I'm trying to fight the urge to jump out of my chair and also trying to control the impulse to eat everything all the time.

Soccer is excellent for this because: 45 minute halves! And I am riveted! So that's what got me thinking about it.

Commercials in tv: very bad for this! Very!

One terrible soccer thing today: the Spain/Chile game, when they quit playing about 75 minutes into a 90 minute game. Anyone who watched it will know, and the commentators knew, and the fans in the stands got really mad. And it was insanely boring. Spain just kicked the ball to each other without trying to score and Chile just let them, without trying to get it. It's because both sides knew they were through to the next round if the score stayed the same, so they quit trying!

The commentator said, "Well, peace has broken out on the field," and it's true, it's like they declared a truce with each other and agreed to waste time until the clock ran out. I've never seen that happen before, but it was ridiculous. And, okay, reasonable. But ridiculous!

But otherwise, oh, Spain! They're so good! And absurdly beautiful! Remember when "playing for Spain" meant someone was insanely beautiful? I had forgotten until I watched them today. Sheesh! Though so was Chile. So are most of them.

My theory is: getting born extra attractive gives them the confidence to become super awesome at this highly competitive and psychological sport. Also there's the reverse theory, which is that being super healthy makes people attractive. I would believe both. Something has to be at work there. At least, in some countries. Some have perfectly normal looking players. The US and Brazil, for instance. Normal people, normal range of appearance, normal variation and whatnot. But then you get New Zealand or Spain where it's like a whole team of Adonis-beings running around out there.

Maybe it's partly self-reinforcement and self-selection. Do you think? Like only incredibly beautiful and confident people will aspire to reaching those heights in the game, in certain countries? Like only certain people would aspire to being actors or models, basically.

And the rule doesn't seem to apply to the women's teams, but there's this whole different psychology to women's soccer anyway. For instance, women's teams don't suffer from that psychological damage men's teams do when they're a point down or more. They come back from unfair calls or being scored on much more easily than men's teams. And they don't play those stupid games like deliberately fouling the other team (as much--I can think of some Brazilian women players who do, like Formiga) or pretending to be hurt.

Hi! Watching lots of soccer! Thinking a lot about it! It's what I do!

At least I stopped talking about gay panic werewolves, right?

PLEASE tell me you watched The Gates and saw what I saw. Anyone? Anyone?

Oh yeah!

I keep having this short term memory drama thing which goes like this:

Q: Ack! I have no energy at all! I'm a slug! There must be something terribly wrong! I must have lost the will to live! Woe! Woe! Wooooooeeeeee!
A: Yes, you have bronchitis, remember?

Oh yeah.

In other news, this bronchitis is KICKING MY BUTT. Just in terms of energy levels and ability to get even the slightest thing done and oh yeah the ability to sleep less than twelve hours.

Also there's the coughing. But let's not talk about the coughing.

I'll all drenched in VapoRub (I object to that spelling) and offensively minty again. Though I learned belatedly that it's a cough suppressant. Who knew? I did not know. I thought it was one of those menthol-open-up-the-breathing things. Mint does that, even Altoids. It's true.

I am having HIlarious fever dreams, yowza. No, really. Where the Glee kids and I are superheroes with wrist rockets? Told you!

I really want the wrist rockets now, though. They are totally 50s sci-fi! All chunky silver and rocket-shaped! With flames and all! You put your arms down by your sides and the flames shoot out behind you, obviously. Were you thinking Superman pose? No no no! Because that would set your hair on fire!

Plus, improved maneuverability, see? Oh, the flying! So glorious! And no one sang at all.

Really it's most pleasant when I'm asleep. Though awake world has TEA which I crave to an unseemly degree, even in my sleep. Mmmmmmmmm tea.

I got the last of the quilt strips pinned yesterday, somewhere in a blur of sleep and soccer games, so today if I can muster the semblance of humanity to sit at the sewing machine, I'll try to get them sewn up. And then pressed. There's also a lot of clothes to be ironed.

Can I make a prediction here? If I get as far as ironing, I will totally burn myself by looking at the game and not the iron. Just calling that one right here, based on experience.

It's so sad, I can't really remember yesterday's games at all. Um....sea of orange in the stands, but the Netherlands team wore blue and white. The Netherlands national anthem is THE BEST of all of them. It really is.

Best national anthems in order:

1. Netherlands
2. New Zealand
3. South Africa
4. England
5. Slovakia (it's all myxolidian or something!)

I left ours out because you cannot possibly be objective about your own national anthem.

Sometimes I switch New Zealand and South Africa, but they're both really really good.

Also the New Zealand All Whites wore All Black which was confusing to me and made me expect a haka but none was forthcoming!

Oh, and I watched Italy behave like a bunch of faker diving crybaby drama queens, flopping all over the ground in agony any time anyone got anywhere near them, and then they lost and this one guy really did fall down crying and his friend had to go out on the field and get him and bring him off and I felt bad, but sheesh, Italy. QUIT IT. They're out and going home, which serves them right for how sucky they played.

Did you se the part where that one Italy player chased the Slovakia goalkeeper into the goal and tried to take the ball away from him? And the Slovakia goalkeeper (rightly) would not give it up? And the Italy guy knocked him down into the corner of the net? And then the Slovakia goalkeeper who was on the ground put a hand out to say Get Off and the Italy guy fell down and acted like he'd had his eye poked out and writhed and kicked, all so he could KICK the Slovakia goalkeeper while he was down lots and lots of times with his spikes and pretend he was the injured party?

I officially hate the Italy team more than Wayne Rooney or Cristiano Ronaldo now. And that's saying something. What a bunch of diva brats! Down with Italy. Oh, they are down. Well, good.

Whereas I'm in love with practically everyone else. All those gawky Slovakia guys! All those amazing New Zealand guys! They played so far above their ability level! Like South Africa did. I love that! I love when a team can stretch and learn and just absolutely fly!

I kind of can't wait for fall when real live soccer starts again.

Okay, so I have errands to run in my be-minted state but I'm probably too loopy and sick to go out driving around in a car vehicle. Obviously I had to call in sick again. Even though I then woke up about a dozen times after that in a cold sweat, thinking I hadn't done it. (I had.) Things look strange, though. That's a sign that says Do Not Drive. Though the stuffed ferret hasn't moved, so that's good.

Anyway. Right. Get lots of rest (check) drink plenty of fluids (tea is a fluid! check) and watch lots of top-quality international soccer. Check!

Have you ever noticed how pictures of soccer players are what artists and sculptors are always trying to capture? Look at the motion! This is what I'm watching the whole time. It's impossible to convey without a still photo:

(Also I really like Paraguay's stripey socks.)

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Cough, cough

Oh, I'm sick. Bronchitis. Boring! I slept fifteen hours. For real. Cat got me up at the usual time so I could feed him and call in sick and visit the facilities but then back to sleep until 2:30 or so.

I don't mind missing today since I feel outrageously, extravagantly terrible. Good thing to have less of! Indeed.

It's even tempting to go straight back to bed now that I've eaten up all the Greek yogurt. What is in that stuff that makes it so insanely good? Wait, I know: fat! It's true. Greek Gods brand honey yogurt. Get some and enjoy! They have it in the health food section of the store here, which makes me kind of laugh and stare off into the distance, because how is it...? It isn't. Oh it has a bunch of probiotics or something in it too, maybe that's why.

I only got it because of that story that has been impatiently yanking on my shirt sleeve for YEARS and saying, "Now? How about now? Is now good? Write me now, okay?" But it's so ridiculously good (sugar AND fat!) that I might have to get some more.

Mmm, tea. Honestly, that's why I got up. I wanted tea. Food I can do without, in theory, unless it's right in front of me, and then I have to devour it, but tea is mandatory.


But, smoothies! Yay! Isn't it good I'm living in a smoothie-filled world now? With a blender and all? I know! So when I feel like I might actually just keel over and die in half an hour, I can make a blueberry smoothie and then I'll feel better. Ish.

What was with the seven visitors yesterday, huh? That's an astoundingly low number. It might have been six, actually, since I went to look to make sure the site wasn't all solid black, or just a picture of my wall, or something.

Oh, you were trying not to catch my bronchitis bug. Very smart!

Cough, cough, horrible cough.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Screaming and yelling

Did you watch that England game? Aaaaaaaah! I was beside myself the whole time! Oh my goodness.

I got spoiled on the USA result by (of all people) Elizabeth Bear, who mentioned the result on her blog. And then at the end of the England game they switched over to the USA game and I saw the last five minutes again.

I'm watching the USA game now but it really takes an awful lot of the tension out of it. Will they make this goal?, I know they won't.

See, being prescient would really ruin soccer for you. And everything, come to think of it.

D. said I'm prescient for calling what would happen this past weekend, but that's just experience talking. That's like saying, 2+2=4. I mean, duh. I hate it and I don't understand it but I've seen enough of it that I can certainly predict it.

Today was weirdly exhausting but peaceful and pleasant. I wrote things. All's well.

I read a lot of Meg Cabot--online, not her books--and rediscovered for the infiniteth time that she is amazingly gloriously positive and funny and wonderful. She cheers me up so much!

Apparently no one is bothered by the vampire elephant in the room (tusks! aaah!) in Insatiable. Interesting.

Question: if you fall in love with someone who uses mind control on everyone, how can you possibly know it's real? How? Know what I mean? Mind control, people.


I love the moral math of soccer, like where I see an Algerian player hit Clint Dempsey (by the way I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM, no mind control necessary) in the mouth with an elbow and make him burst out bleeding everywhere, I'm all THEY DESERVE TO LOSE.

It's hard to maintain that moral math when you like England, though. Wayne Rooney, people. I hate that guy. Today I was yelling at the tv, "I will take back every mean thing I've said about you if you will JUST SCORE!" But he did not. He is fat and slow. And I say that as a fat, slow person, yo. But no one expects me to be able to sprint down the field! He cannot do it either and cost them because of it.

Down with Wayne Rooney. Bleah! Yuck!

This USA game is awesome, though. It's so hard fought! So close! The USA team is so wonderful!

I had a weird conversation with someone who is very far from a racist but who said something about how it's weird that England and France field so many black players, and were they naturalized citizens or something? Did those countries bring them in and make them citizens?

I was seriously flabbergasted. France and England, like most countries, have plenty of black people--and every kind of people from all over the world. I don't understand even not knowing that. How do you not know that?

And then they were like, But they don't have the American history of slavery. My head was spinning around at this point. I had to explain the history of European colonialism and how it goes both ways to a person who absolutely should not have needed this explained.

I guess old perceptions about other countries die hard if you don't, I don't know, watch international soccer? Like, do you think England is mostly white people? What percentage of the USA is white? What percentage of England? Do you think the USA is a "white" country? What does that even mean? Would you expect the USA team to be mostly white? Why?

Wow, huh?

Lots of black players on teams from France, England, Netherlands, Belgium, USA, Honduras...just off the top of my head. I'm seriously shaking my head in bafflement right now, but I guess it's just something that's been understood for so long to so much of the world that it really shook me to hear that.

Anyway. Ahem.

Landon Donovan for the win! Oh he's so awesome. Totally cried at the end. Yay!

Clint Dempsey closes his eyes during the national anthem, though. Busts me up every time.

What a game! One goal in stoppage time that determined whether they'd stay in the World Cup or go home. SO GREAT.

Oh I have to go to sleep. I caught some coughy chesty thing and I'm trying to kill it with sleep. Do you think that'll work? Can't hurt. I also choked on my veg like four times watching England but that had to do with the gasping, shrieking, and screaming, though it could also be both an effect and a cause of my current state of pudding lungs. I'm an aspirator, it's true. I have aspirations! Heh.

I have rather mild aspirations these days. Write books. Be in the right place at the right time. Pay the bills. See? Pretty straight-forward. (And write that awesome screenplay, oh holy wow, I love that thing.) It seems to be taking infinitely more effort to get from zero to moving at all in this particular zone of my life, however. I think sometimes I'm moving backwards.

But I'm trying to focus on good things and things that make me want to go go go, write write write, win win win. Go, write, win! So that's what I do. One page at a time and all that.

Today I was reading Melinda Lo's _Ash_ which is AWESOME and suddenly realized I'm in a Cinderella story! Holy crap! But then I was like, Yay! Because that means a) I'm totally the heroine, b) the people I think are being horrible are totally the villains, c) I will totally win in the end, and c) handsome prince, come on! Not to mention that small woodland creatures will dress me. Wait, is that Snow White?

Did you ever notice how Steven Gerrard has the same look as Wendell on Bones? So similar. OH THE SMITTENNESS OF ME with all these amazing boys who play so very well and pour their hearts out on the field. 

I think he got three more years with his club team, in that picture. Or else it's a W for Wendell. Hmm!


Is 10:30 too early to have lunch?
I've scraped all the last bits of work out of the jar with a spatula but I'm forced to admit it's really empty. Really, really empty.
Book has some ideas it's bugging me with. I'll have to get on that. But it's not new material, just edits, which isn't as exciting or fun and also requires that I remember what I did where and what I haven't done yet, and where not. Or something.
Meanwhile, I'm consulting Meg Cabot for good cheer and inspiration. She's great for that. Hurray!
11:00 is pretty much lunch time, yes? Those muffins for breakfast are just not lasting. If I had eaten cupcakes you'd say, "Well, duh!" Only how are muffins different from cupcakes? They aren't! Are they? These are essentially cupcakes that say "muffin" in the recipe. In fact you're supposed to make a sugary glaze for them but I demurred. Mostly because I'd end up wearing most of it, but still!
I wish there were a meatier kind of muffin. I mean, not MEAT. But more substantial-ness. But what would it be? I am so perplexed.
I tried to wear my white Beckham England shirt this morning but it was too hot for something synthetic. Same problem yesterday with my favorite long blue blouse. Had to take it off too. I'm just dying to know how the games are going but DON'T TELL ME! I don't want to find out! I want to watch them! No spoilers!
The media blackout makes things even slower and less interesting than usual. Ohhhhh criminy. You guys, I cleaned out my purse. I put all the little hair elastics into the little zippered bag. I organized everything. That's drastic.
Book calls. Thank goodness for book!

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Did many a thing tonight

Oh, if you haven't been watching World Cup, this is the time to start. The simultaneous games mean that two of the teams in each group get kicked out forever and ever, gone, go home! When the end of the game comes and they know, they are completely devastated on top of having just run their hearts out for 90 hard minutes and often just sit down right there, or cry, or both. It's the simultaneous rejoicing and devastation that just kills you.

There's all this complicated math about which teams go on and which don't, depending on who wins and loses but also goal differential--how many you scored, and also how many were scored against you. So at one point during one of the games, two teams were moving on and two were not, and then one team scored, and which two shifted! And then someone else scored, and it shifted again!

It's edge of your seat stuff, let me tell you.

So I spent the first half game sewing quilt strips, highly enjoyable, and then moved into the kitchen for the dish washing extravaganza, and then started cooking and baking and then washing dishes again. So fun!

So now there are:

1. clean dishes
2. orange walnut muffins
3. oatmeal for morning
4. baked sweet potato for lunch (with leftover roast beast)
5. more clean dishes

It was a gorgeous evening but it's impossible to be outside right now with the huge biting flies. Are they deer flies or black flies? I don't know what they're called. But you know a normal triangular fly? Like that only much bigger and nastier. Those are the ones that feel like someone stapled you. They like to fly into my hair and make me crazy so that I'm out there whacking myself on the head.

Haven't been bitten yet, though! I suspect that longer hair helps. Good for whooshing around like a mane.

I finished the strawberries. Very good!

Also for dinner I looked in the fridge and said, "I wish there was still some of that corn chowder." And lo! It was there! Not only that but it was in a canning jar and had sealed itself which means it was still perfectly good. I use canning jars to store soup, very old habit. Well, you can't take a fez of soup anywhere. It'll spill and leak and gush everywhere. Jars, though. Solid.

There is still a lot of roast beast left over. And my quilt strips (not a food item) are astoundingly gorgeous such that it's really hard for me not to look at them. They're too short--the quilt is not big enough as it stands--but they really are gorgeous. I'm mulling options for embiggening it. Probably I'll just add more to the bottom of the strips, in a startling feat of ingenuity.

What a good day, huh? I mean insanely boring and isolationist but hey! I did all my stuff! Is there anything I missed from my list of essential activities? I guess exercise. I meant to get on the Nordictrack at least for a while but didn't quite manage it. But at least I was on my feet for hours. It does count for something.

So I only watched two of the four games. I saw France/South Africa, and what an amazing game that was. France was busy sucking as bad as any good team could suck. Also Thierry Henry got kind of old all of a sudden which makes me sad. And I really wanted South Africa to get to go on, but even though they won their game, they were eliminated. That goal differential thing.

And I saw Argentina/Greece. Argentina is such a pleasure to watch and I'm all smitten with Maradona as coach in a way I never was before. He was kind of annoying before to be honest, but he's a dream as a team manager. The team just seemed to love being there and each other and the game and everything, so nice after all the ugly play of certain other teams.

I was going to watch Nigeria/South Korea, but at the end of the Argentina/Greece game they switched over and showed the last five minutes of that game, which is exactly like reading the last five pages of the book. Gaaah! So instead I'm going to bed.

It's fine if I don't see any of it, because then knowing the result is like reading the Cliff Notes or a box score, but seeing a piece of it gives away all the good stuff: the dynamics, the style, the interactions between teams, and of course how much it hurts the losers when they lose. All the good emotional stuff!

More tomorrow, woohoo! And complete media blackout. Today Stephen Fry tweeted a bit of detail about France and I went Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! and shut the whole thing down. No news! No details! Tell me nothing!

And here I thought I was safe. Shocking.

OH, it's time for sleep.

Give me a medal! Where is my medal?

I drank two whole liters of water today! Medal now please!

Also I ate excellent vegetation in the form of one beautiful tomato and one beautiful red bell pepper. I would like an award!

In addition I wrote many words!

And did much Online Job!

And of course all of Regular Job that can possibly be done! That goes without saying as I am a ROCK STAR. Inexplicably without a medal!

Oh and I ate some Triscuits, because apparently if you shut me in a small room by myself ALL DAY I eventually start devouring everything in sight out of some kind of gerbilistic anxiety instinct. It's true. You could do a study. Wait, maybe they ARE doing a study. I never thought of that!

Even the presence of someone else to hear the crunching or tearing of wrappers will stop me from nervous eating. Or possibly keep me from being nervous enough to want to do it in the first place, I'm not actually sure. This study kind of sucks. Or is it triple-blind? Not even the researchers know what they're looking for!

One day I ate half a bag of cough drops, crunched them up one after the other, out of sheer isolation anxiety.

But I wrote good stuff. Well, it'll all have to be edited down. Lately I seem to write these gigantic monster scenes. Or maybe when you read them you think, "Oh, that is a lovely, lyrical scene...epic in its scope, moving and monumental." That still makes them sound too large. But I don't really know. Because editing brain is not allowed anywhere near writing brain. No! Or writing brain goes, "I can't do it while you're LOOKING AT ME," and then nothing gets done at all.

I might have to excise this whole awesome character I really like. But that's okay because I'm adding this other awesome character I also really like. I was thinking about to-be-excised character and realizing he has absolutely no point in the story whatsoever. But then there's all this great stuff! But that's not negotiable. Either get a point, or get out. Okay, I guess that IS negotiable.

Also there's this rule of writing a mystery. Do you know the rule? The rule is: every scene has to deal with some aspect of the mystery. Also there's a rule about how you have to introduce the person who did the thing in the beginning somewhere, not halfway through or whatever.

I derived these rules myself, so there may be others I don't know about.

I am IN LOVE with my characters.

It was SO SMART to break the thing into chapters. Now I can be like, "Hey, I need to add Character X into chapter 2 and weave him/her seamlessly into the narrative and allow the mystery to unfold thereby!"

It's good if you can use "thereby" once in a while so it doesn't get forgotten.

So here's the thing: I need to get back to baking bread, so I don't eat the forbidden bread of allergicality anymore. But I can't knead bread by hand or I'll scream and die. Also it just won't work. I mean, it won't turn into bread. I could possibly do it by sticking my feet in plastic bags and kneading it with my feet, but I can't do jack with my hands that requires strength and constant pressing like that. Nope. Like, a pushup, even assuming I were liftable with my current strength, which I'm not? I could not stand the pressure on my hands. Pushing a car? Not possible. Even pressing my two hands together like whatever yoga thank you hands makes me nearly throw up from the pain. Light pressure only. Knitting needles. Kayak paddle. Keyboard. Petting Mr. Kitty.

Bread machine either needs a new pan without a destroyed gasket or a whole new bread machine or some other bread kneading apparatus like my long-coveted Kitchenaid stand mixer. But dude, it costs a lot! And I don't need a bread machine as I don't bake bread in them, just mix them. Maybe I can find a replacement pan. I will look into it.

Meanwhile I'll have to bake some scones and quick breads and whatnot. Like, zucchini bread, right? Mmm, that sounds good. Pumpkin bread. There must be other vegetable breads. Potato dill bread? Is that a yeasty kind?

Right, biscuits, scones, muffins, quick breads.

Must get off the stupid hateful sulfite crack!

You know I read this thing that said that it's hard to quit things you're allergic to because you get an endorphin jolt, which makes eating toast exactly like being a lame emo teenage cutter! Holy crap! That sucks! And makes perfect sense! And really sucks! Not least because of the extreme LAMENESS thereof but also the inherent self-harm it implies! Jeez! No self-harming here!

Though a friend of mine also said over-eating is self-harm, to which I frowned and said, "So is marathoning," so we kind of had a fight, because if one is true, so is the other, so back off, Bionic Woman. Well, it wasn't a fight. It was a genteel disagreement about terminology. And then I had some ice cream and she went and got a personal best in a triathlon. I think I know who was happier at the end of THAT day. Mmm, ice cream.

How about if the world would arrange itself so I'm not so isolated and anxious and stressed out all the time, so I don't eat things I shouldn't in inadvisable quantities despite my anti-anxiety meds, hmmmmm? Also I really have to buy a kitchen appliance that will knead bread. There's just no way around that. Dang.

Maybe Bed Bath and Beyond will send me another ridiculously large coupon and instead of throwing it out like I always do, I'll take it in and USE IT and get what I want for 40% off. Hey! That'd be good. They have tons of kitchen stuff.

I have spent all day under this green muppet fur blanket because I wore a skirt with sandals and therefore no tights which means cold legs and feet. Interestingly, my feet don't hurt today. What is up with that? These are my weird beaded sparkly flip-flop sandals. I fail to understand how they should make my feet hurt less than real shoes. Hmmmmm.

Okay, six hours of soccer waiting at home. I will probably skip at least one game and fail to pay much attention to parts of others. I just don't have the tv-watching stamina. Or the sitting stamina after sitting all day too. Up! Up! Up and around!

I'm not sure how I feel about Meg Cabot's "Insatiable" now that I'm done. It's full of that thing I love, her brilliant cleverness, but it's also kind of lightweight, or something? She usually manages to make me care hugely about the relationships in question, but with this, I was not so invested. Especially after [GIANT SPOILER FOR INSATIABLE AHEAD, DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED................I AM NOT KIDDING HERE.........SPOILERS!!!] the highly compelling romantic lead guy bites her. Bites her! And it's clear he is using some kind of supernatural mind control thing on her.

Hey, I am not a fan of the storyline where the guy uses mind control/rohypnol/alcohol/drugs/violence/coercion of any kind and the heroine is aware of it and likes the guy thereafter. Sorry. NEVER. No. Take your gross rape fantasies and get out and stay gone. So she lost me there and never got me back, even though [MORE SPOILERS COMING] Meena sends him packing at the end. No, what should have happened is everything is the same up until the morning after the big romantic classic Meg Cabot steamy night and then she finds out HOLY CRAP VAMPIRE MIND CONTROL and is OVER HIM FOREVER. Or goes full on stake-wielding ninja.

I get a little vehement when a book explicitly starts out stating that it's against the gross misogynistic violence against women nature of vampire literature and then turns around and absolutely buys into it, even if she does give him the push after all.

I got mad. Because! I hate that too! And I think you CAN write about finding strong and powerful characters compelling without having it turn into some kind of gross violent submission fest! Meg Cabot normally does, see. That's one of her awesome traits. Brilliant in so many ways. Insatiable did not subvert the gross dominant vampire paradigm. And Meena was a pretty seriously weak heroine who spent the whole book being bossed around, manipulated, mind-controlled, protected, rescued, and lusted after, instead of DOING THINGS HERSELF. Oh, so sad. Heroine as object. Bleah. She didn't drive the story. That's a crime! Oh, book!

I guess I ought to post this up on Goodreads but phew, I feel better already.

Monday, June 21, 2010


I love watching Spain play. What is it about them? They're so beautiful! All soccer players are beautiful, except the Japan team for some reason, which is weird because I'd have to say in general you find a higher level of good-looking-ness in Japan than elsewhere. What's up with that, I wonder? Oh, but all soccer players are beautiful, but Spain somehow seems to specialize in the beauty. Goodness!

I watched that absurd Portugal game where they beat PRKorea 7-0, which is always sad to see. I really don't like slaughters like that. This game is 1-0 right now which is just fine. Oh and I'm not really watching because I'm too dang tired. Tired!

So I did this big fancy merger thing of Bootstrap Two and Original Recipe Bootstrap and now I'm editing down everything that gives stuff away, back from last May until January. Taking out names, removing details, etc. Most of it is fine but I want to be sure, right?

It's going to take a while but I'm going to be all Reunited And It Feels So Good and a continuous narrative in which you can watch my dark slide into dooooooom! What is up with that? Things are so much better now than they were last year at pretty much any point, though I suppose not in the socialization realm. That is the worst it's ever been. Fewest people, least conversation, least time in the company of others.

That's why I got so upset at getting excluded from family time when the rest of them went off and did fun things together. Though, you know what? I was right to get upset. They were being awful. There you go. Fact.

Tonight I got home, put on the game, ate a quart of chocolate ice cream, and slept through the whole first half on the inflatable bed, under my bookcase quilt. Then I drank a glass of wine and tried to like Cristiano Ronaldo. I actually started to like him when I realized he hadn't scored in TWO YEARS. He's a star striker! And had not scored! Wow. But then he broke his streak tonight and I was all excited for him. Awwww.

That Spain guy Ramos has my hair. I might need a haircut.

It was about a year ago I discovered the sulfite allergy and do you know what? I am frelling dysfunctional about that. I am! I eat things with sulfites all the time! I push the boundaries! How about I stop that dead right now, daft loon? Okay, I the will.

Seriously. I'm mad. I know this whole Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night thing is actually a very positive trait of mine, but not when I'm fighting a stupid food allergy. They do not give in! They are unimpressed by your refusal to be cowed!

I feel like it's all part of some really bad attitude. Like I think that things are sucking so why not get a good thing even if it makes it suck a little more? That's idiotic. No! You are doing it wrong!

How about this attitude instead? Remember how crazy and horrible even a slight allergic reaction makes me, and make sure NEVER to have that happen again. I can make it never happen again! I'm in charge! So let's do that, okay? Okay!

Granted things are Somewhat Grim right now and I really don't do well with solitude. And I'm feeling (this is hilarious) slightly oppressed by World Cup, just the sheer overwhelming quantity of time it requires.



Well, the whole point of World Cup is to remind us all to devote ourselves to sheer awesomeness and work insanely super hard and train every day and put in all the hours and love the thing you do so much that you can't help kicking the ball up in the air if you come across one. THAT is the point of World Cup. So I have to get the point and wake the hell up and pull it together.

Blog unification and editing dramatic renewal of purpose!

Also I quit Facebook again. I frelling HATE Facebook. It just makes me feel terrible! Here's a thought: LET'S NOT FEEL TERRIBLE.

The Spain boys scored and now they're all kissing each other. Yay for kissing soccer boys!!! Like each one of them has to give the scoring boy a kiss!


Oh yeah speaking of dramatic renewal of porpoises, FOCUS ON WHAT YOU LOVE. Jeez! Duh!

I swear I might write that on a big piece of paper and tape it to the wall. And on a post-it on the mirror. And write it on my arm in Sharpie. And on the dashboard of the car. I mean, honestly, people. It's the secret of happiness. It actually is. And I know this. So HUP FRELLING HUP.

Okay, there wasn't a whole lot to love about today but there were these things:

1. Going outside to write at lunch. Excellent!
2. So much gorgeous soccer to watch.
3. Ridiculous excess is totally fun sometimes. I really did eat a quart of chocolate ice cream, like something out of Bridget Jones. I know! Mmmmm. It was SO GOOD.
4. So much cat snuggling. I adore my cat Siegfried.
5. Little nap. I really think naps are part of the key to sanity. If you're tired enough to sleep, you should probably sleep, for a little while, anyway.
6. Stretchy bungees. Man I love those. I'ma get all strong!
7. Playing racquetball in the basement while waiting for the washer to get done. (Kitty barfed on the bathmat, as usual. I am not kidding about rugs in this house. I am NOT buying rugs I can't stick in the washer. No!)

Hey! Spain is up 2-0 at the 60th minute! I'm calling it and going to bed.


Guess what's for lunch? They were in my fridge. I am confused by the strawberries. This is why:

I can't tell whether they left them there by accident or intentionally. I was busy making froofy coffee or something and my sister stuck something in the fridge and kind of looked at me all weird and defiant but I wasn't paying attention. People! In my house! Overwhelming!

Then I saw them later amongst the soy milk (cupboards are full) and fez of roast beast and oddments like 1/3 cup of that corn chowder and the leftover two tablespoons of the jellybean tomato sauce and thought, "Oh no, they forgot their strawberries!"

I was not allowed to go with for strawberry picking. It was one of those things where they carefully did not invite me and even though I was all radiating strawberry picking availability and asking what time and such, I got the feeling people were making that zip-your-lips gesture as soon as I looked away. Yep! So I didn't get to go. Sad! What would I like more than strawberry picking? Nothing! Maybe blueberry picking. They are higher up.

So I'm confused why they left me strawberries. Except it might have been accidental because no one said, "Hey! Here are some strawberries! We feel like crap for deliberately excluding you!" Or said anything. I think they probably just forgot them, to be perfectly honest.

Maybe they want me to have strawberries, but they don't want me to be around? That might sum up my entire family's attitude toward me, come to think of it. We want you to have strawberries! As long as we don't have to be in your actual presence! We are all going to be over here doing things together! You are specifically not invited!

Anyway that's what's for lunch. The strawberries of exclusion and confusion! Oh and a cheese sandwich. Mmm, cheese sandwich. Actually the cheese sandwich was not that good because of the lack of crucial lettuce. I don't know how it does that magical thing where it turns your sandwich good. Also there should be less lettuce in a head of romaine because I am only one person and can only eat half of it before it perishes untimely.

The lawn mowing guys are mowing the lawn all around me on my picnic table, but they have those grass collector things so at least I'm not covered in a shower of grass like I expected. There might possibly be a rain cloud right above my head as well! I'm afraid to look up in case a bird poops on my laptop. It's that kind of time lately!

Yes, being around my family makes me feel completely suicidal and want to cry all day, but it's just because they really don't like me and are strangely unafraid to show it. How are you doing?

I'm fairly underwhelmed by today. I had Things! To! Do! And then they all got done. But hey, at least things to do for a few hours! That's a plus. The roommate who asks me every day when I'm getting moved out has not been around much. I'm so hard to please with this cell. There? Gaaaah! Go away! Not there? Waaaaah! All isolated in solitary confinement! Crashy worker people building things nearby? Shhhhhhh! Too noisy!

It's getting very warm out here in my wool shirt that I had to put on because my cell-I-mean-office is utterly freezing.

Aww....the lawn mower guys are skipping the area near me and doing the other areas while this other person and I are eating lunch. Or rather I am blathering on the internet, having finished my fez of the Strawberries of Woe.

I think in that position I would not have left strawberries in the excluded person's fridge. I would have been very careful not to mention the activity they were excluded from. I would have felt like leaving the fruits (oh ho ho) of that expedition in the excluded person's fridge was rubbing salt in their wounds, no?

I got a flea bite from the visiting dog and had to wash every washable everything in my living room the instant everyone left, so now it's all unusually sparkly and clean, yay! Probably should have vacuumed. And boraxed the floor. Please don't give my cat fleas. That would suck. (Um. Yeah. Joke!)

Gosh it's nice out.

So who can explain the feet killing me thing? Here's how it works: sit still for a while, get up, feet scream and protest and won't walk properly. Also first thing in the morning. But if I'm up and about, they adapt and are fine. I thought maybe after I went for a walk they'd be better today but nope!

First thing in the morning is completely hilarious. It's like one foot is stuck in a bucket and the other has fallen asleep. And it happens fast, too, both ways, both turning into buckets/asleep and recovering and walking like actual feet.

I don't get it, feet! Cut it out! Is it from all the sitting and watching World Cup? But I sewed for hours yesterday which uses Worst Foot (right) a whole lot, with that pedal thing.

Everything is teal today. Teal cars, teal shirts on way more people than can be determined by chance alone, even given the predilection of nurse/phlebotomist/medical type people to wear teal at the slightest provocation. What is with the teal, people? Royal blue is a perfectly legitimate color, you know!

Okay, no more reading entertaining things on the internet. It's kind of like cheetos for the brain. You may supply the interpretation of that analogy yourself as it's kind of obvious. I'll write things, trying very hard not to introduce the Strawberries of Exclusionary Woe into the narrative. Honestly I think I've grown as a person, or else I'm hungry, because in the past I would not have been able to deal with them and they'd have died a mushy death in the fridge as my eyes refused to acknowledge their existence. I really like strawberries, though.

I wish I could afford to move to Oregon. Like, NOW. And had a job there. All those things. But I have this big PLAN involving that school and so on and all these machinations to get it to work out, so I'm trying to stick this out even though it's hideously horrible awful as far as humans are concerned. The wildlife is great, the house is great, I even like the ridiculous weather okay most of the time. But humans! Jeez. Humans and work are not good here. AT ALL. So far.

Actually the internet seems to have taken today off too, which is just weird and annoying. ENTERTAIN ME! Where are you when I need diversion, internet? Do you know what I think now when I see there's an email? "What the f*** do you want?" That's because 99% are from companies with a legitimate business relationship with me. I hate business email!

I'm not entirely certain any of my marbles are sticking around after all this time in the isolation tank. I mean, the state of Maine, not just the specific and absurdly emblematic isolation tank I spend all day in. And the other one I spend all night in, though at least that one has windows and tv and my kitty and many fun entertainment options like books and quilts and paint and drawing materials. Good thing, otherwise: MARBLES! IN SEVERE DANGER!

Happy first day of summer! The sun feels amazing. Time to go inside!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Caught up (for once)

I skipped Cameroon v. Denmark. I just gave up.

Starting Tuesday I'll get FOUR games per day, which is just insane and impossible to cope with. Four 90 minute games. That is 360 minutes of games! That is six hours of soccer to watch when I'm out of the house ten hours already! Okay, I guess that still leaves eight hours, but I do require some time to bathe and such things in the morning.

The France/Mexico game was so interesting. France was actually extremely good. It wasn't like England bumbling around the field like a bunch of doofuses. England played so badly, I'm embarrassed for them. France played great, but Mexico played better. So that's cool.

In case you're not up on your soccer arcana, the last two games in each group in the first round are simultaneous, because when they weren't, the results of the penultimate meant that the results of the ultimate game were meaningless, so that game was really boring. Broadcasting them simultaneously gives fans conniptions because how can you watch both?

You can watch both if you're all DVR-ed up like me. I didn't know it would come this way, but it will record two things simultaneously, which is deeply awesome. Then I just have to avoid ALL media (which includes Twitter) all day all week until I get home and watch my six hours of games.

Which basically means: don't expect me to read your blog or respond on Twitter for a while, after tomorrow. I just won't see it. You know who I'll miss most? Jane, Hart Hanson, David Hewlett, and Simon Pegg. Now THAT would be an amazing creative collaboration.

Though actually, returning to soccer now, knowing the result doesn't mean all that much. Look at Mexico/France! I knew the score going in but I had to see the game to understand what kind of 2-0 game it was.

Not to change the subject suddenly in midstream (who, me?) but can anyone explain eyeliner to me? I mean in a technical sense? Like where it goes and all that? On your nose, right? NO, I mean, I need a schematic of where you put more and less and all that. I was not raised with makeup--in fact it was forbidden, with the implication that only FAST WOMEN would use such a thing--and I have not the least idea how to use it, but I got this sudden urge to mess with it after catching sight of a deathly ghost waif in the mirror. I mean, me. Maine, man! It makes you pale. Especially when you never go outside.

I need professional training, here. All makeup makes me feel like I look like a clown.

There was an actual six-foot-tall big-red-feet clown in the judgy hippie store today. I kind of freaked out. Like I couldn't look at it and backed away and got into a defensive position by the bulk grains while keeping a sidelong eye on its movements. I HATE faces that aren't faces.

One of my most terrifying recurring nightmares is looking in the mirror and seeing someone else's face.

It's possible makeup isn't for me.

Masks are worse, though. I can't bear talking to someone in a mask. Which is why I never hit it off with superheroes. That and the tights. Men in tights: just no.

Hey! I remembered my tin of bungees! I love those! I get to be all stretchy and strengthening and then feel boingy and smug! I might smuggle one to work with me tomorrow (bungee smuggler!!!) so I can take stretchy breaks. Sitting in office chairs: NOT GOOD.

Well, here's something awesome I learned this weekend: it is so worth it to turn myself inside out and have the weekend free! Because of the relaxation and non-working and stuff! It opens up all kinds of mental energy. I like it!

I am going to try to do that all the time. It'll involve some creative use of lunch breaks and diligence and all, but that's okay. I really, really enjoyed not having the laundry and the weekend portion of Online Job looming over me. Instead of that looming and panic and dread, I was all, Woohoo! Done! Ready! I could have gone kayaking or hiking or anything, if it hadn't been so ungodly hot out.

Six hours of games per day. I'm kind of feeling exhausted thinking about it. Like you might feel if I said, "Here are six pies! Eat them all because tomorrow you get six more!" Aaaaaaah! Too many pies!

Mmm, pie.

I sewed up three or four quilt strips tonight. Good start. There are only two more pinned and ready to sew, which means I have pins for six total. Which means this really is going to take a while. Golly!

Oh and I went for a walk tonight. Deer flies kept tormenting me by flying into my hair and going bzzzzzzzt at which point I would smack myself in the head, which I'm sure they thought highly comical. Can you imagine getting bitten in the head by those things, though? They HURT. It's not like a mosquito bite. It's like an inoculation. With the big needle. Burning hot. With no warning. No no no.

Somehow they didn't bite me, I don't know how. I kept whipping my walking stick (carried in case of dog attack like my last walk) in the air over my head, so maybe they feared my ninja moves and flew off to torment a less formidable opponent! That must be it.

I think I'll use bungee smuggler as an obscure insult. Yaaaaah! Ye no-good bungee smuggler! Ideally in a thick Scottish accent, for some reason.

Oh, I'm so tired I'm delirious and can't stop babbling. You know I forgot to eat for twelve hours today. I had roast beast and cherries for breakfast and then froofy coffee beverage in the middle (TOO DAMN HOT OUT) then around 9:00 tonight more roast beast and an apple. Flaky Atkins for the win!