Wednesday, September 30, 2009
2 a.m. on Sunday morning - when drivers who are exhausted and inebriated are on the road, heading home after a night of partying.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
At what time of the day, on what day of the week, is it most dangerous to drive, according to the National Safety Council?
Monday, September 28, 2009
As I walked around the room, I noticed much of the conversation went like we were reading off a brief timeline of the history of our lives from the past 10 years. "Went to college, graduated, got married, moved, moved back, had kids." Or, "Moved to Hawaii, culinary school, moved, working." Or, "Went to college, got my bachelor's, moved to Boston for graduate school, got my master's, moved to Dallas, working and getting married." (That last one is me.)
It got me thinking. Back in May, while moving I thumbed through my senior year scrapbook and took a look at the goals I had set for myself for the ten years following high school. So what goals do I have for the next ten?
I don't have a set list. Or even think these are all things I want to do within the next ten years. But they are things I want to do eventually. So I guess this could be called my bucket list. Nor is it in any particular order.
- Hike up to Machu Picchu
- Get my 5K time to under 30 minutes
- Kids at some point
- Get back to writing
- Visit Greece, Italy, Russia, England
- Cooking lessons
- Get better at windsurfing and maybe actually complete a race
- Camp in the Grand Canyon
UPDATE: I almost forgot the funniest part of the whole night: The look of anxiety on DF's face when he asked if my high school boyfriend would be there, and then the look of relief when I informed him that my high school boyfriend actually went to a different high school, so he wouldn't be at my reunion. It had me giggling for quite some time.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
George's death has taken people to the extremes. Bailey is extra mean. Cristina is extra intense. Meredith is extra lovey (whoever thought that would happen?). Alex is extra jerky. Callie is extra crazy.
Clara was interesting and difficult for me to connect with. I don't understand how someone can refuse to call her support system, her family when things are that critical. If I'm missing a limb, I want my mom.
"Be careful darling. I made that ankle from scratch." I'm so stealing that line when I have kids.
Love Arizona! "Dude are you crying?" "I have authority issues. Walk away Karev." I forgot how much I loved her.
Bailey, who once yelled at Izzie for caring too much, broke down in the elevator because she cares too much. Probably one of the most touching moments of the whole premiere. That woman is a hard, tough shell on the outside but just a gooey mess of emotion on the inside.
I'm glad that someone finally went up to Amanda to yell some sense into her considering her crazy, daily vigil outside the hospital. For like a month. But I think there were better words Izzie could have used. Like, "George was a surgeon. He had a purpose. To save lives. And yours was the last one he saved. Don't let that be in vain. Go, live your life." Of course, Izzie would have been more yell-y.
Love Lexie being jealous of Callie. Clearly, irrational. But she's still nervous about her hot boyfriend (I'll be keeping that shower scene recorded for a while. RAWR!) and his ex bed friend now neighbor. And I loved how Callie was like, he doesn't look at my boobs anymore. Totally see Mark as a boob man, eyes constantly trained down instead of high level.
Cristina and Owen look so natural together. Even in the shrink's office. Talking and laughing, they are so freaking cute.
Was it just me or was there more sniping and conniving? More so than usual that is? And based on the merger with Mercy West announcement and previews for next week, that doesn't look to be going away any time soon? I think the show is shifting its storytelling methods a bit. Which could be interesting, possibly refresh some things.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I only got through the first two.
Let me be clear... These books are targeted to a very specific audience. Unlike my favorite series, they lack something in the form of an ability to appeal on a broader scale. I am not a part of that specific audience. Any longer. If I were 12, then I would probably feel differently. I do know adults who LOVE this series. I'm not one of them.
One good thing about these books is that it has inspired imaginations and encouraged people to read who otherwise wouldn't think of picking up a book.
But I can't stand them. The writing is not good. I find the characters one dimensional. And the heroine's obsession (page after page after page of her pining) for her vampire love made me sick.
Last week I stumbled onto this review of the series. It's a bit long but hilarious, cynical and makes fun of the books. Totally up my alley. SPOILER ALERT! If you haven't read the books and are planning to, don't click on the link.
Some favorite tidbits:
Three hundred pages after "Oh, you like me too? No way, I thought you hated me!", the plot arrives late to the party, drunk, in a beat-up '53 Chevy pick-up truck. It drives away about fifty pages later and crashes into a tree, gets sent to the hospital, and is rarely heard from again throughout the course of the series.
And then Stephenie Meyer takes that trust, uses it to get your address and credit card numbers, and then breaks into your house and poisons your dog.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Gone. Without a word here.
I wish I could regale you with exotic tales of glamorous travel and wondrous adventures. Instead, I was in a car. Driving 12 hours to Florida. And 14 back to Texas. (Why does it always take longer on the way back?)
It was the annual trip I take with my friends from graduate school. Since we're all now scattered across the country, we get together once a year for 5 days and 4 nights of food, games, drinking and water volleyball.
This year was no exception. It was exactly what I needed. Some time away. From work. From wedding planning. From the everyday grind.
And now I'm relaxed. And a little extra crispy. Even though I was a good girl and put on my sunscreen, the bottle must have been old because I turned a bright shade of red that has barely faded two days later. And we weren't out long enough to require sunscreen reapplication. The confirmation? My face, on which I used a different sunscreen, is sans red.
Still I had a great time. I'm glad to be back. Posting will recommence.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
It was Jim’s birthday, and he was considered to be an “old man” by his friends standards. So, to liven him up a bit, Jim’s friends decided to give him something special for his birthday. They bought him a hooker.
The call girl, as she preferred to be called, went to his house and knocked on the door. When Jim answered, she said “Hi I’m your birthday present!”
Startled, he asked “What am I supposed to do with you?”
“I’m yours for super sex,” she answers.
So Jim replied “Well, I’m 75 years old so I’ll have the soup.”
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
What famous 19th-century writer penned a short story about a successful search for Captain Kidd's buried treasure?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
How many tiny black seeds are there on the average strawberry?
Friday, September 11, 2009
Except for when I'm trying to do yoga in the living room. Trying because with Cooper around I'm not doing yoga. I'm trying to do yoga.
Because he's humping my leg while I'm attempting to balance during Crescent pose. Or he's climbing onto my back while I'm in Child's pose. Or he's in my face during Corpse pose. Or he's humping me while I'm in, ahem, Downward Facing Dog.
It's hard to relax while stretching in Downward Facing Dog, and you have a real dog mounting you from behind. For one thing because I keep thinking about this video. And for another because a dog's freaking humping me. I can't focus on my breathing with a dog trying to have sex with my leg.
I'd throw him outside before I start except he's always in the other room at that point quietly chewing on a bone or something. So I never remember. And then I get started and a few minutes into sun salutations he's humping me every which way he can. If I didn't know better, I'd be flattered that he found me so attractive. But even then you reach a point where you just have to say no, you know?
P.S. To the families of those that died or were lost eight years ago today, you are in my thoughts today, this anniversary of a most horrific, nightmare of a tragedy.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Planning the vacation for after the wedding. Looking at all the gorgeous, gorgeous resorts. The hard part was choosing one and only one.
So where are we going?
Sandals Whitehouse European Village & Spa on the south coast of Jamaica.
Look at these.
Don't you want to go? Right now. I do. Alas, I'll just have to dream about it for a few more months.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
"Gentlemen," the Devil started, "Due to the fact that Heaven is now overcrowded, therefore St. Peter has agreed to limit the number of people entering Heaven. If anyone of you can ask me a question which I don't know or cannot answer, then you're worthy enough to go to Heaven; if not, then you'll come with me to Hell."
The philosopher then stepped up, "OK, give me the most comprehensive report on Socrates' teachings." With a snap of his finger, a stack of paper appeared next to the Devil. The philosopher read it and concluded it was correct.
"Then, go to Hell!" With another snap of his finger, the philosopher disappeared.
The mathematician then asked, "Give me the most complicated formula you can ever think of!"
With a snap of his finger, another stack of paper appeared next to the Devil. The mathematician read it and reluctantly agreed it was correct.
"Then, go to Hell!" With another snap of his finger, the mathematician disappeared, too.
The idiot then stepped forward and said, "Bring me a chair!" The Devil brought forward a chair. "Drill 7 holes on the seat." The Devil did just that. The idiot then sat on the chair and let out a very loud fart.
Standing up, he asked, "Which hole did my fart come out from?"
The Devil inspected the seat and said, "The third hole from the right."
"Wrong," said the idiot, "it's from my asshole." And the idiot went to Heaven.
James A. Garfield's. The museum has displayed three of his vertebrae, showing the path taken by the bullet fired into his back by assassin Charles Guiteau in July 1881.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Parts of which U.S. president's vertebrae have been exhibited at the National Museum of Health and Medicine in Washington, D.C.?
Monday, September 7, 2009
The story follows three friends all approaching 30. All feeling like they can and want to do something important with their lives. All unsure of exactly what and how to get started. The ambition is there, but they lack the drive. The book opens in March 2001 in New York City. And as the story progresses, 9/11 hangs heavy in the future for the characters.
Marina struggles to come out from her father Murray's - the emperor - shadow and find her own place. Danielle's ideas for television shows get shot down and she doesn't have the backbone to pursue what she thinks would be great. Julius gets exactly what he wants only to learn getting what you want at whatever cost is dangerous.
What's great about this book is that the characters are beautifully flawed. They're real. We know that what they do is a terrible idea, but because they do it anyway, they're much more realistic. Anyone can see a part of themselves in some part of a character. It might make us uncomfortable to look into the mirror and see our flaws, but sometimes it's the best way to learn.
I found this to be an enjoyable book that was easy to read. Though a warning, have a dictionary nearby. It was rare a chapter I read that I didn't have two or three words I wanted to look up the definition.
Next month - The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
Thursday, September 3, 2009
About a month ago, I wandered back into our library and discovered an old journal. I sat on the floor to read it and soon the tears were emerging from my eyes so quickly I couldn’t wipe them off fast enough.
And that’s how DF found me. Sitting on the floor crying over journal entries eight, nine years old that were full of feelings I forgot I had. I mean I know I had them. I just forgot how intensely I felt them.
Naturally, he was curious as to why I was crying over an 18/19/20-year-old girl’s thoughts. How do you explain the pain, the insecurity, the uncertainty, the anxiety of growing up?
The sporadic entries were, to be honest, a little whiny and self-centered. But it’s a journal. It’s meant to be whiny and self-centered.
Writing has always helped me to work through my emotions. They bubble up in me until I can no longer contain them within myself, and they spill out in written form. Whether through a pen into a journal, or through a keyboard onto a monitor - which is sometimes a good decision and sometimes a bad.
So what did I write about at age 18/19/20? Looking past the problems of that age (roommates, boyfriends – or lack thereof, etc), what lay at the root of all the entries was loneliness, insecurity, a lack of confidence, anxiety at my future beyond college.
It’s nothing more or less than what anyone else went, or is going through. Maybe it took me a little longer than some, and a little sooner than others, to figure out who I am and how I want to bring meaning to my life.
But without those emotions, and experiences of working through them, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Wouldn’t be where I am today. A somewhat pulled-together (though there are times that I am not so pulled together), professional adult who may at times still be afraid or insecure but is ready to take on (most) of her challenges.
Take away all the bullshit expected from an 18/19/20 year old and her collegiate problems, and what’s left is raw emotion. And that cuts to the core of me no matter how old I am or how long it’s been since I felt those particular emotions.
So the crying is not surprising. And it didn’t help that I read it during the week I got my period. I tend to be a little over-emotional at that time of the month. DF can confirm that.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Snuff. Although it's no longer used by senators, the snuff continues to be kept as a matter of Senate tradition. The boxes are attached to a ledge that flanks the presiding officer's rostrum.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
What is kept in the U.S. Senate chamber in two small lacquered leather boxes decorated with Japanese figures?