This whole not-having-to-work thing? It's pretty alright. I'm getting some things done (although not nearly as many things as I ought, since I'm trapped in my apartment) and feeling pretty relaxed (except for the whole trapped thing.
My cat likes it too. She's pretending to ignore me while she chases a gold gift bow around the kitchen, but I can tell that deep down, she enjoys having me around.
12.23.2005
The United States Postal Service is holding me hostage in my own home.
I'm expecting a package.
It's an important package. So important that I need it today. So important that it's being shipped through Express Mail®. (An example of the prestige of Express Mail®: it is the only type of mail that ships on federal holidays. Not that that does me any good, because I don't need this package on a federal holiday; I need it today.)
Recipients of Express Mail® have to sign for it, which is why I am sitting in my living room/moving box storage facility when I could be getting my oil changed, buying my sister's Christmas present, continuing to move things out of Leigh's house, or any of a number of other things that would require me to be elsewhere. Because I need that goddamn package today.
I'll let you know if I got it.
UPDATE. I got it! I got it! Oh, and I didn't have to sign for it - I found the precious package crammed into my mailbox with my Cinergy bill and the new Cincinnati Magazine. La-ame. But at least I was able to give my steady Eddie the gift of lower-deck Bengals tickets.
It's an important package. So important that I need it today. So important that it's being shipped through Express Mail®. (An example of the prestige of Express Mail®: it is the only type of mail that ships on federal holidays. Not that that does me any good, because I don't need this package on a federal holiday; I need it today.)
Recipients of Express Mail® have to sign for it, which is why I am sitting in my living room/moving box storage facility when I could be getting my oil changed, buying my sister's Christmas present, continuing to move things out of Leigh's house, or any of a number of other things that would require me to be elsewhere. Because I need that goddamn package today.
I'll let you know if I got it.
UPDATE. I got it! I got it! Oh, and I didn't have to sign for it - I found the precious package crammed into my mailbox with my Cinergy bill and the new Cincinnati Magazine. La-ame. But at least I was able to give my steady Eddie the gift of lower-deck Bengals tickets.
12.21.2005
The nice thing about two weeks of vacation within four weeks ...
You get a second chance to finish your vacation to-do list!
- Unpack in new apartment
- Get last traces of stuff out of Leigh's house
- Run w/ dad (again)
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Catch up on pile of books lent by Edmund, bought on whim at Enquirer book sale
- Catch up on pile of unwatched DVDs
- Work on pile of underplayed video games
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
- Do Christmas shopping
- Buy light bulbs for currently darkened kitchen
- Find out more about having currently darkened TV repaired
This must all happen sometime in between these scheduled events:
- Wed. afternoon: Lunch with mom and sister, possible shopping
- Wed. evening: Harry Potter party in Amelia
- Thurs. morning: Breakfast with Neil
- Thurs. evening: Running with dad; probable family dinner
- Fri. evening (possible): Movie in Dayton with Stacie, Chele, etc.
- Sat. all day: Various Christmas Eve activities
- Sun. through Mon.: Christmas in Milford and Bloomington
I forsee a week of paralysis in front of the computer, punctuated by bursts of frenzied shopping.
- Unpack in new apartment
- Get last traces of stuff out of Leigh's house
- Run w/ dad (again)
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Catch up on pile of books lent by Edmund, bought on whim at Enquirer book sale
- Catch up on pile of unwatched DVDs
- Work on pile of underplayed video games
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
- Do Christmas shopping
- Buy light bulbs for currently darkened kitchen
- Find out more about having currently darkened TV repaired
This must all happen sometime in between these scheduled events:
- Wed. afternoon: Lunch with mom and sister, possible shopping
- Wed. evening: Harry Potter party in Amelia
- Thurs. morning: Breakfast with Neil
- Thurs. evening: Running with dad; probable family dinner
- Fri. evening (possible): Movie in Dayton with Stacie, Chele, etc.
- Sat. all day: Various Christmas Eve activities
- Sun. through Mon.: Christmas in Milford and Bloomington
I forsee a week of paralysis in front of the computer, punctuated by bursts of frenzied shopping.
12.14.2005
My sister is famous!
She's "reader Katie" in this Popsugar post.
Between her and Kari (here and here), it seems like everyone's a tipster these days.
Between her and Kari (here and here), it seems like everyone's a tipster these days.
12.11.2005
Cleveland: Land of Free Wi-Fi at Nice Hotels!
And here you always thought it was the Mistake on the Lake.
Yes, I'm in Cleveland again, and I am again using the hotel's wireless Internet for my own nefarious purposes.
And let me just say that the Radisson is freakin' sweet. I chose it because it was supposedly within walking distance to the arena where the concert was. Um, yes. The arena is close - so close, in fact, that the hotel's Web site includes a picture of it in its little slideshow of "here's the exterior, here's the lobby, here are the rooms with Sleep Number beds, and here's the arena which we couldn't actually fit inside the hotel, so we did the best we could." If our room were across the hall, we could probably see the tour bus or private jet or whatever U2 uses to exeunt venues. As I footed it back to the hotel afterward, darting between the participants in the traffic snarl that entangled the arena and listening to an irate prisoner in a parking garage lean on his horn, I congratulated myself on a fine choice.
Although I really should congratulate Eileen, who picked it first.
Yes, I'm in Cleveland again, and I am again using the hotel's wireless Internet for my own nefarious purposes.
And let me just say that the Radisson is freakin' sweet. I chose it because it was supposedly within walking distance to the arena where the concert was. Um, yes. The arena is close - so close, in fact, that the hotel's Web site includes a picture of it in its little slideshow of "here's the exterior, here's the lobby, here are the rooms with Sleep Number beds, and here's the arena which we couldn't actually fit inside the hotel, so we did the best we could." If our room were across the hall, we could probably see the tour bus or private jet or whatever U2 uses to exeunt venues. As I footed it back to the hotel afterward, darting between the participants in the traffic snarl that entangled the arena and listening to an irate prisoner in a parking garage lean on his horn, I congratulated myself on a fine choice.
Although I really should congratulate Eileen, who picked it first.
11.29.2005
Vacation to-do list
- Unpack in new apartment
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
UPDATE: Look how much I accomplished!
11.28.2005
Thus begins a week of vacation.
To celebrate, am reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe in my old twin bed at my parents' house in Milford. How nostalgic!
Mr. Wufflekins came home yesterday. We hugged for about 16 hours.
PUMPKIN UPDATE: Four cups down; something like 10 to go. I've frozen most of it; the Internet told me it will keep that way "for a short time." How short is "short"?
Mr. Wufflekins came home yesterday. We hugged for about 16 hours.
PUMPKIN UPDATE: Four cups down; something like 10 to go. I've frozen most of it; the Internet told me it will keep that way "for a short time." How short is "short"?
11.22.2005
The ol' ball and chain
Edmund is gone for the week. He is spending Thanksgiving with his family in North Carolina.
It's sort of fun being a single girl again for a week. I get to sit around and veg out on the computer for hours and pack up T-shirts and kitchenware ... OK, it doesn't sound like a lot of fun. But it's kinda relaxing.
But when I get takeout for dinner by myself, I don't get showered with compliments about how I'm the best girlfriend ever for bringing over Indian food. I miss that.
Also, the kissing is nice.
It occurs to me that perhaps I should think up some sort of alias for Edmund. It seems to be the thing to do on blogs; preserving the anonymity of your significant other, regardless of whether you yourself are anonymous. Wes has Jawa Girl; Josh has Natalie Portman; Jen has Mr. Man; emma has her gentleman caller - which is what my family called Edmund before we were officially an "item," but I guess she took it first. Drat.
(I wonder if all those sites' proprietors will see that I linked to them and drop by for a visit. Hello, fellow typists!)
Anyway, I welcome any and all suggestions for an alias - preferably an embarassing one. "Mr. Wufflekins," "Schnoogy Bear" and "Honey Poo-poo Head" are front-runners right now.
11.20.2005
Gourd gracious!
If you think the title of this post sounds like a cheesy newspaper headline ... well, I get paid to think up cheesy newspaper headlines, so nyah.
I never got around to carving my Halloween pumpkin, so it has sat on the porch for several weeks as a more general "harvest" symbol. Its physical as well as symbolic longevity was improved by remaining intact, it seems, for it was still hale and hearty when I took it in this afternoon. Inspired by stories of Indians who would fill pumpkins with milk and spices and then roast them, I decided that I, too, would make something of my curcurbit.
So I cut it up into bits and stuck it in the oven at 375. When it's done, I'll puree it and ... I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll make cookies, or possibly muffins. Perhaps both; I think I'll wind up with quite a bit of pumpkin puree. After putting the pumpkin in the oven, I went to the store to pick up some ingredients that might go well with such things (chocolate chips, dried cranberries, apples, etc.), so I have several options. There's something appealing about making pumpkin apple walnut muffins. (Apples, "a-peel-ing"? Oh, dear - pun ABSOLUTELY not intended.) Anyway, if you have suggestions (requests?), do let me know.
I never got around to carving my Halloween pumpkin, so it has sat on the porch for several weeks as a more general "harvest" symbol. Its physical as well as symbolic longevity was improved by remaining intact, it seems, for it was still hale and hearty when I took it in this afternoon. Inspired by stories of Indians who would fill pumpkins with milk and spices and then roast them, I decided that I, too, would make something of my curcurbit.
So I cut it up into bits and stuck it in the oven at 375. When it's done, I'll puree it and ... I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll make cookies, or possibly muffins. Perhaps both; I think I'll wind up with quite a bit of pumpkin puree. After putting the pumpkin in the oven, I went to the store to pick up some ingredients that might go well with such things (chocolate chips, dried cranberries, apples, etc.), so I have several options. There's something appealing about making pumpkin apple walnut muffins. (Apples, "a-peel-ing"? Oh, dear - pun ABSOLUTELY not intended.) Anyway, if you have suggestions (requests?), do let me know.
11.18.2005
Oh, bother.
Harry Potter = fun! I still think the third movie is the best, but even if I had despised the movie, the spectacle would have made it all worthwhile.
My group took up half a row in our theater. We got there THREE BLOODY HOURS early; once we had our coats on the seats we could pretty much come and go as we pleased, so we kept making small-group excursions to Barnes & Noble.
It turns out that our idea of making customized shirts was nowhere near unique; we expected a few costumes, but nearly everyone in the show was decked out in anything from a simple striped scarf to full Hogwarts regalia. (One kid dressed as a ninja. Um, OK.) Two guys dressed as Harry and Draco staged a duel in front of the screen.
I think our theater was the first (of eight screens!) to open for ticket sales, meaning all the superfans were in with us. These kids clapped when the lights dimmed and again when the black curtain rolled down to make the screen wider. They clapped for the previews (until it became abundantly clear that the previews sucked hardcore). They clapped for the Warner Bros. logo, and again 10 seconds later for the title screen.
They screamed when Harry took his shirt off.
When I got home I was too pumped up to go right to sleep. I should have curled up with The Inferno or something else that requires enough concentration to tire me out, but no. Instead, I stayed up until 5 sodding a.m. reading Harry Potter fan fiction! (A hex on you, emma blog, for planting the idea in my head!) I got four hours of sleep; if not for my cat's plaintative mewing outside my door, I might have drowsed all day to the tune of my CD alarm clock's current selection, the not-at-all-rousing Garden State soundtrack.
And here's the interesting thing. Cassie Claire's excellent fanfic left me feeling more satisfied than did the movie. Is this a testament to C.C.'s spot-on depiction and expansion of the Harry Potter universe – or even the triumph of written over audiovisual media? (Nah; I probably just like the bits with the snogging.)
Meanwhile, my cat looks just like Mrs. Norris - except for the red eyes. Anyone know of a good feline cantact lens dealer?
My group took up half a row in our theater. We got there THREE BLOODY HOURS early; once we had our coats on the seats we could pretty much come and go as we pleased, so we kept making small-group excursions to Barnes & Noble.
It turns out that our idea of making customized shirts was nowhere near unique; we expected a few costumes, but nearly everyone in the show was decked out in anything from a simple striped scarf to full Hogwarts regalia. (One kid dressed as a ninja. Um, OK.) Two guys dressed as Harry and Draco staged a duel in front of the screen.
I think our theater was the first (of eight screens!) to open for ticket sales, meaning all the superfans were in with us. These kids clapped when the lights dimmed and again when the black curtain rolled down to make the screen wider. They clapped for the previews (until it became abundantly clear that the previews sucked hardcore). They clapped for the Warner Bros. logo, and again 10 seconds later for the title screen.
They screamed when Harry took his shirt off.
When I got home I was too pumped up to go right to sleep. I should have curled up with The Inferno or something else that requires enough concentration to tire me out, but no. Instead, I stayed up until 5 sodding a.m. reading Harry Potter fan fiction! (A hex on you, emma blog, for planting the idea in my head!) I got four hours of sleep; if not for my cat's plaintative mewing outside my door, I might have drowsed all day to the tune of my CD alarm clock's current selection, the not-at-all-rousing Garden State soundtrack.
And here's the interesting thing. Cassie Claire's excellent fanfic left me feeling more satisfied than did the movie. Is this a testament to C.C.'s spot-on depiction and expansion of the Harry Potter universe – or even the triumph of written over audiovisual media? (Nah; I probably just like the bits with the snogging.)
Meanwhile, my cat looks just like Mrs. Norris - except for the red eyes. Anyone know of a good feline cantact lens dealer?
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