Wednesday, August 31, 2005

I want my Meme!

Jodi, my prom queen, your meme tag is my command:

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1) Learn to speak Spanish, at least passably well.
2) Take a vacation that lasts more than 5 days and does not include any work. Preferably, do this every year.
3) See the Grand Canyon.
4) Buy some horses and ride them a lot.
5) Oh god, the cliché: finish my screenplay(s) and television pilot(s). Jesus. Now you know.
6) Take a nap.
7) Forgive.

7 things I can do:
1) Cook.
2) Run a business, take care of five kids, fry it up in a pan, and never, never, never let him forget he’s a man.
3) Sing almost 3 octaves. Maybe all 3 on a good day, it’s been a while.
4) Navigate. I’m good with maps.
5) Get pregnant. Yes, indeedy!.
6) Stay calm.
7) Change a tire. Well, I did it ONCE! I think that was 20 years ago. I'm sure I could do it again if I had to...

7 things I cannot do:
1) Snap.
2) Bake cookies, except for Toll House cookies. I really suck at the cookie thing.
3) Kill a bug. Especially a big bug, or a flying bug, or the dreaded big flying bug combo.
4) Keep my mouth shut.
5) Snorkel.
6) Drive a stick shift.
7) Touch my nose with my tongue.

7 things that attract me to other people:
1) Pretty eyes.
2) Strong but not overly muscular build.
3) Wit.
4) Big smile, easy laugh.
5) Kindness.
6) Creativity – whether it’s music, writing, painting, photography, or something else.
7) Big feet.

7 things that I say most often:
1) I don’t know.
2) I didn’t do it.
3) God DAMN it.
4) What?
5) Where are/is my keys/sunglasses/babies/debit card?
6) Dinner’s ready!
7) I brought you into this world, and I can TAKE YOU OUT.

7 celebrity crushes:
1) John Cusack
2) Robert Mitchum
3) Charlize Theron
4) Johnny Depp
5) Tinky Winky
6) Gary Sinise
7) Russell Crowe. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.

7 people I want to do this (anyone not on the list who'd like to play is invited, and no one I've tagged should feel obligated):
1) Jody
2) Mrs Otto
3) Tim
4) Yvonne
5) C. Monks
6) Shelley
7) Lauren

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Spoiled Rotten

I was there at the beginning of Six Feet Under, hooked like a fish from the very first episode, but somewhere along the way HBO (cable, actually) became a luxury we could not afford, and so a few seasons have come and gone without my viewing. Not to worry, I told myself, it will all come out on DVD, and then I can watch the episodes in a feverish, glazed-over state, taking breaks only for the bathroom and to heat up a frozen chicken pot pie. I love to watch TV that way -- we watched the entire first season of Nip/Tuck in a matter of 2 days, sitting in a stupor on the couch, forcing the kids to make their own meals and drive themselves to and from school. Besides, it was a great way to avoid actually conversing with my mother, who was here for a visit at that time.

So, yes. There are three or four mostly unwatched seasons out there for me to digest at my leisure, and I was scrupulously careful to avoid any mention of the grand finale last week. Which is why I was horrified when last night, while innocently reading the New Yorker in bed (go on, make fun of me, but that's what I do for entertainment), suddenly a spoiler appeared, right there in the middle of the article, what do I learn but that Nathan is dead. Which, actually, was not too much of a shock, even if it was information I'd rather not have had thrown in my face. But then AGAIN, today, while reading the fantabulous Heather Havrilesky, another more shocking spoiler rears its ugly head. Heather, she's usually so careful with the warnings. But not today.

Please, for the love of everything HBOly, don't tell me anything else!

Friday, August 26, 2005

Oh. Ow.

So, I've got this stiff neck thing happening. It's that horrible feeling where you can't turn your neck to look over your shoulder when you're driving the car which makes changing lanes extremely hazardous to your health. Furthermore, I have an odd pain just under my ribcage, mostly on the right, but now sort of gravitating over to the left, that causes me to say "oh!" and "ow!" at odd intervals and to no one in particular. I'm feeling a little crazy this morning, what with all the aches and pain. There's also the early warning signs of carpal tunnel syndrome, which I'm trying to ignore, because if it explodes into full-blown carpal tunnel syndrome, I'm pretty much screwed as far as my business goes. I think that about sums up my health complaints.

But enough about me, let's talk about my KIDS! Jack and Eli have started school in my neighborhood, and a fine, fine school it is. Eli is now officially a kindergardener, Jack is in 2nd grade, each of them already has a best friend, all is right with the universe. Eli, as usual, is a big hit with the ladies, although with any attention from them he looks very much like he would like to be swallowed up by the floor -- especially if I'm anywhere nearby to witness it.

Javi or Javy or Javier (maybe I should conduct a poll?) is doing great at his new day care, and the girls love it there as well, and will be starting full-time next week, praise Jesus. Their new obsession is Teletubbies ("tebbytubby! tebbytubby!"), favorite food is PB&J, favorite pastime is climbing like monkeys all over everything. Brian caught them on the piano just a few days ago, playing the keys with their feet.

It's hot here, I'm swamped with work, my body hurts, and although I yearn to be doing just a spec of something creative and personal, I find it next to impossible to carve out time for this little experiment. Still, I think things will get better now that the kids are occupied more of the time, so I'll try to check in more often. It's good for me, although has little or no effect on this weird ribcage pain. Ow.

Monday, August 01, 2005

The Computer, She Has Crashed

Honestly, people. I am TRYING here. I was posting every day, even. But technology has turned against me. Thank god for this old workhorse desktop computer -- computer which I shunned and scorned and spurned! Which I pratically gave away to my children! But now I've come crawling back, and at least I've got something to work on while the other machine is in the shop, because that thing is DEAD, as dead as any speck of affection and good will I ever felt towards Tom Cruise. As dead as the rat Brian killed with his bare hands in our back yard. As dead as the same rat still was when it ended up getting tossed by the trash guys NOT into the garbage truck, but back onto the street, where I nearly stepped on it when I got out of my car.

Actually, I've got something even better than that old thing, which is a fabulous, glitzy, beautiful, fancy-schmancy laptop, even more shiny and exciting than my one in the shop. This new puppy, you could set it up in your living room and watch DVDs on it, you could. It's practically the size of a plasma TV. I'll be working on it soon enough, and then I have a feeling I'm going to be very, very spoiled, and not want to part with it. Meanwhile, I've been eyeing it furtively from across the room as it displays its glorious screensaver and plays its pretty music. Is this some dastardly trick that the computer store is playing on me? Trying to get me to fall in love with the loaner?