Steve went to London a few weeks ago on business. He called the day before he was to return home, trying to get advice on presents for the kids. I just told him to get Tshirts or baseball caps and they'd be fine, but he's a nice Daddy and wanted to get them something else as well (I already knew he had a suitcase full of Cadbury for me, so what care I of the children?). He told me he'd gotten Lily a book of Charlie and Lola , Ben a baseball hat, and a stuffed animal for Julianna. T-shirts for all three. Yay, everyone is happy. Ah, but the happy had not even begun.
He got home and gave out the gifts. And thus, it began, as he handed Julianna her stuffed animal. "A BEAVER! Why, it's the cutest beaver I've ever seen! What will I name my beaver?" to each new person: "I have a beaver!" or, better, "Do you want to see my beaver?" "Would you like to pet my beaver? It's very soft!"
At the swim meet the next day, to Denise: I have a beaver! My dad brought it from London. It's the cutest beaver ever!
Denise, biting the insides of her cheeks: Does your beaver have a name?
Julianna: Yes, I named her Daffodil!
Denise: Not Denise?
Me: I named MY beaver Denise.
Denise: you better shut up.
And ever since, we'll get beaver related humor. She's prone to just randomly saying things and sometimes it's "I have a beaver!" Steve swears he didn't even know it was a beaver when he bought it (that's right, away from home a week and he forgets what a beaver looks like), but it's comedy gold, I tells ya. Highly recommended.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
DONE!!
I finished The Deathly Hallows. I'll give it a couple of days and then I'll warn you of spoilers. Meanwhile, enjoy pictures from the party at the library...
Bev and I as the Trelawny twins. Luckily our friend Lara just happened to have a crystal ball! You can't really tell, but I smeared my lipstick as if I'd been hitting the cooking sherry and was wearing mismatched socks with slippers. I do love me a costume. I was always the kid that went just a bit too far on spirit days in high school.
Julianna was Hermione, of course. And yes, I did try to be in every picture. Why do you ask?
Molly was the Whomping Willow. Genius. Apparently, it was Julianna's idea, but she doesn't have her mothers tendency toward Glory Hog. Yet.
But the Ford Anglia on the hat was pure Molly. And the perfect touch:
Julianna and Blair (as Madame Rosemerta) making quills:
Look! Real Weasleys!
I cast a fortune for Tonks and Harry (Rhiannon and Owen. Wee Aidan with Weasley orange hair evaded the photo):
Library employees were made up by a local make up school or some such. They looked great. Observe!
And then the book! Woo! Luckily we were in the first 20 or so people. There was ONE register open. Borders had come to the library to sell, but didn't send enough registers for the task. Or perhaps they could have let us buy tickets for a book throughout the night, to be exchanged, swiftly, for a book at midnight. but no. Anyway. I cannot imagine why people waited when a few hours later, there's be truckloads of them at every store on earth.
Okay, now go read it so we can chat!
Bev and I as the Trelawny twins. Luckily our friend Lara just happened to have a crystal ball! You can't really tell, but I smeared my lipstick as if I'd been hitting the cooking sherry and was wearing mismatched socks with slippers. I do love me a costume. I was always the kid that went just a bit too far on spirit days in high school.
Julianna was Hermione, of course. And yes, I did try to be in every picture. Why do you ask?
Molly was the Whomping Willow. Genius. Apparently, it was Julianna's idea, but she doesn't have her mothers tendency toward Glory Hog. Yet.
But the Ford Anglia on the hat was pure Molly. And the perfect touch:
Julianna and Blair (as Madame Rosemerta) making quills:
Look! Real Weasleys!
I cast a fortune for Tonks and Harry (Rhiannon and Owen. Wee Aidan with Weasley orange hair evaded the photo):
Library employees were made up by a local make up school or some such. They looked great. Observe!
And then the book! Woo! Luckily we were in the first 20 or so people. There was ONE register open. Borders had come to the library to sell, but didn't send enough registers for the task. Or perhaps they could have let us buy tickets for a book throughout the night, to be exchanged, swiftly, for a book at midnight. but no. Anyway. I cannot imagine why people waited when a few hours later, there's be truckloads of them at every store on earth.
Okay, now go read it so we can chat!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
My life as a 12 year old girl
So I saw that stupid Harry Potter movie. I made the mistake of rereading Order of the Phoenix too close to seeing the movie. I'm reasonably certain it sucked anyway, but having been that close to the book made it extra painful. I went to see it with Julianna, my friend Bev and her two oldest girls, and an extra 10 year old. Bev and the extra kid hadn't read the book recently (kid hadn't read it at all). They were not party to the outraged squawking that characterized the drive home. I, however, was in full angry-fan mode. "But what about the..." "And the...!!!" "I KNOW!!" "And there was no...!!!" It's a wonder none of us stroked out.
First, and most trivially, the effects were terrible. This wouldn't matter if the movie were good, but it wasn't, so they sucked. Grawp, the giant, was just wrong and awful and meh. I will admit that the too short battle at the end between Dumbledore and Voldemort (don't flinch!) was pretty cool. I'm gonna miss ol' Dumbledore.
Of course much of the story was dropped. Understandable, the book was the size of a paving slab. But for the last movie, they did a good job of it. They just focused on the Tri-Wizard Tournament and dropped everything else. Fine. So there was no S.P.E.W, but I let it go b/c they had a coherent story to tell. This one? I cannot imagine how it made even a little sense if you hadn't read the book. Huge chunks of plot were missing and what WAS there seemed to be on fast-forward. There were so many characters that few got any screen time. Only Harry and Umbridge (great casting btw. I wanted to set her on fire, so she did a great job) get much more than a few lines. Oh, and Daniel? Please stop building up your neck muscles. It's too close in size to your head and you are being to resemble a bespectacled penis.
I felt that what was important about OotP was the mental connection between Harry and Voldemort. Occlumency, Legilimency, the Prophecy. Instead, the focus was almost solely on Umbridge's tenure at Hogwarts-- her growing power and ultimate downfall. That story should be the backdrop against which Harry's interactions with Snape and realizations of his father's fallibility should have been played. Instead, the Occlumency lessons are a throw away, and the introduction of James-as-asshat hardly noticeable. The other major theme--that makes the whole Umbridge thing possible, really--is the adolescence of Harry and pals. The ANGST! as the girls kept shouting. Harry sets himself apart from everyone, foreshadowing how he will have to go it alone in the new book...Crap. I just turned into an English major. Sorry. Anyway. Because he's decided he's all misunderstood (what 14 year old isn't, pal, get over yourself), he won't go to Dumbledore for help. The movie did address the Cho Chang infatuation, but having her betray Dumbledore's Army was just wrong. Luna Lovegood was terrific, but the whole thread about The Quibbler was dropped. And...NO QUIDDITCH. Hello? Lifetime ban for Harry, Fred, and George (oh, yummy, yummy twins)? hrmpf.
So it's over two hours long, but too short by half to tell the story properly. A&E or BBC need to do a miniseries of each book. Using children who can actually act this time, please. Meanwhile, I have to go re-read The Half Blood Prince in preparation for Saturday's read-o-rama. yay!
First, and most trivially, the effects were terrible. This wouldn't matter if the movie were good, but it wasn't, so they sucked. Grawp, the giant, was just wrong and awful and meh. I will admit that the too short battle at the end between Dumbledore and Voldemort (don't flinch!) was pretty cool. I'm gonna miss ol' Dumbledore.
Of course much of the story was dropped. Understandable, the book was the size of a paving slab. But for the last movie, they did a good job of it. They just focused on the Tri-Wizard Tournament and dropped everything else. Fine. So there was no S.P.E.W, but I let it go b/c they had a coherent story to tell. This one? I cannot imagine how it made even a little sense if you hadn't read the book. Huge chunks of plot were missing and what WAS there seemed to be on fast-forward. There were so many characters that few got any screen time. Only Harry and Umbridge (great casting btw. I wanted to set her on fire, so she did a great job) get much more than a few lines. Oh, and Daniel? Please stop building up your neck muscles. It's too close in size to your head and you are being to resemble a bespectacled penis.
I felt that what was important about OotP was the mental connection between Harry and Voldemort. Occlumency, Legilimency, the Prophecy. Instead, the focus was almost solely on Umbridge's tenure at Hogwarts-- her growing power and ultimate downfall. That story should be the backdrop against which Harry's interactions with Snape and realizations of his father's fallibility should have been played. Instead, the Occlumency lessons are a throw away, and the introduction of James-as-asshat hardly noticeable. The other major theme--that makes the whole Umbridge thing possible, really--is the adolescence of Harry and pals. The ANGST! as the girls kept shouting. Harry sets himself apart from everyone, foreshadowing how he will have to go it alone in the new book...Crap. I just turned into an English major. Sorry. Anyway. Because he's decided he's all misunderstood (what 14 year old isn't, pal, get over yourself), he won't go to Dumbledore for help. The movie did address the Cho Chang infatuation, but having her betray Dumbledore's Army was just wrong. Luna Lovegood was terrific, but the whole thread about The Quibbler was dropped. And...NO QUIDDITCH. Hello? Lifetime ban for Harry, Fred, and George (oh, yummy, yummy twins)? hrmpf.
So it's over two hours long, but too short by half to tell the story properly. A&E or BBC need to do a miniseries of each book. Using children who can actually act this time, please. Meanwhile, I have to go re-read The Half Blood Prince in preparation for Saturday's read-o-rama. yay!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Polly want a lighter
First, just so you know, my hair no longer looks like that. It's still cute, but much bouncier, due to the fact that I mysteriously got wavy hair sometime in the last decade. Today it looked like I'd slept on rollers. I'll take it.
Look what we found in the yard yesterday:
It's lined in cigarette filters. I'm not sure whether I'm charmed or saddened. But I worry about the little nicotine-addicted sparrows trying to bum smokes off the crows.
Look what we found in the yard yesterday:
It's lined in cigarette filters. I'm not sure whether I'm charmed or saddened. But I worry about the little nicotine-addicted sparrows trying to bum smokes off the crows.
Friday, July 13, 2007
The single most thrilling experience of my entire life
I bid on a hair cut from the Sam Wong salon and I won. I believe I was supposed to be cut by Jocelyn, but guessing from her My Space page, she's moving. Or something. But she wasn't there, which is just as well b/c her blog is poetry. As it happens, the man Sam Wong was there for me. I paid $30 at the auction, which is more than many people spend on a cut, but is low for me. What isn't low is the $75 this cut usually costs. I hadn't had a cut in way too long, so I was hurting. The fact that it is Friday the 13th was not lost on me. Steve pointed out that he was boarding an airplane on Friday the 13th. Please, I'm getting my hair cut by someone I've never met! No one cares what you look like in a plane crash. sheesh. (although Jerry pointed out that Steve will have a 30 hour Friday 13th since he's flying from London today. Hope Jason doesn't show.)
I go in and a young thing with that weird choppy white hair with random clips, giant retro-80s (GAH!) glasses and bright red lips hands me a bundle. "This is your robe. I'll take you to the bathroom to put it on." Robe? I check, nope, no stirrups on those chairs, so um, robe? "Oh, you can just put it on over your shirt. Some people like to just wear the robe." Yeah. Some people like to wear giant 80s glasses. I'm going to just slip this on, okay? It's like a graduation gown. But without the stylin' hat/cutting board. Sam comes out. He's a Chinese dude (get OUT! Really? With a name like Wong? no, seriously) about my age or older b/c who can tell with Asian dudes? They look 25 until they suddenly look 90. He has shoulder length hair and a guayabera shirt open to the 3rd button and a charm of some sort on a leather thong. Necklace kind. I didn't see his skivvies. But he looks cool. Of course, because he's an Asian dude.
He runs his hands through my hair, weighing it, pulling it this way and that, asking me about what I want, how much work I'll put into it (none), etc. He hands me back to Ralphie Girl to shampoo. She gives me a looovely shampoo and scalp massage. Now those who know me know I'm no fan of massage in general, but I love me a head rubbin'. Especially a mint scented one. She brings me back out to the chair and one of the two old dogs hanging around the salon (like getting your hair cut on Jed Clampett's porch!) comes over and begins to methodically lick my leg as if it were included in the treatment. Um. No thank you? I scratch her ears and try to scootch her away. She licks my arm while I do it. I love the doggies, but I can't see that this is popular with much of the $75 haircut crowd. Unless they bill it as an Organic Enzymatic Sponging.
Sam comes back, combs me out. Then he starts beating me in the head. No, really. He has his comb and scissors in one hand and he kind of karate chops (not a slur. Really) my skull with one hand and the comb. Then he pulls out a strand of hair and cuts the bottom 1/8 inch off. BapBapBapPuuulllClip. BapBapBapPuuuullClip. It felt like imagine a cut would feel from Edward Scissorhands. Weirdest haircut EVER. Once he has battered me senseless, he clips it all up again and clips, basically, one hair at a time. Clip, measure. clip, measure. It was very....deliberate. Finally, an hour later, he hands me back to Ralphie for the blow out. Why do salon blow dries take so long? It's like the blow drier contains the exhalations of a single vole. Then Sam comes back, runs his fingers through it again, and sends me on my way. I was basically pleased, although honestly, after all that work, I ought to be unrecognizable.
Taking a picture of myself is always a treat. I always get one of 4 looks.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I will CUT you."
The Hypnotist
I spared you the most common one: "Dude, this is good weed!" But yes, I took many and those are the cream of the crop. I'm ever so photogenic.
To paraphrase Vincent, "It's a good haircut, but it ain't worth no fuckin' $75."
I go in and a young thing with that weird choppy white hair with random clips, giant retro-80s (GAH!) glasses and bright red lips hands me a bundle. "This is your robe. I'll take you to the bathroom to put it on." Robe? I check, nope, no stirrups on those chairs, so um, robe? "Oh, you can just put it on over your shirt. Some people like to just wear the robe." Yeah. Some people like to wear giant 80s glasses. I'm going to just slip this on, okay? It's like a graduation gown. But without the stylin' hat/cutting board. Sam comes out. He's a Chinese dude (get OUT! Really? With a name like Wong? no, seriously) about my age or older b/c who can tell with Asian dudes? They look 25 until they suddenly look 90. He has shoulder length hair and a guayabera shirt open to the 3rd button and a charm of some sort on a leather thong. Necklace kind. I didn't see his skivvies. But he looks cool. Of course, because he's an Asian dude.
He runs his hands through my hair, weighing it, pulling it this way and that, asking me about what I want, how much work I'll put into it (none), etc. He hands me back to Ralphie Girl to shampoo. She gives me a looovely shampoo and scalp massage. Now those who know me know I'm no fan of massage in general, but I love me a head rubbin'. Especially a mint scented one. She brings me back out to the chair and one of the two old dogs hanging around the salon (like getting your hair cut on Jed Clampett's porch!) comes over and begins to methodically lick my leg as if it were included in the treatment. Um. No thank you? I scratch her ears and try to scootch her away. She licks my arm while I do it. I love the doggies, but I can't see that this is popular with much of the $75 haircut crowd. Unless they bill it as an Organic Enzymatic Sponging.
Sam comes back, combs me out. Then he starts beating me in the head. No, really. He has his comb and scissors in one hand and he kind of karate chops (not a slur. Really) my skull with one hand and the comb. Then he pulls out a strand of hair and cuts the bottom 1/8 inch off. BapBapBapPuuulllClip. BapBapBapPuuuullClip. It felt like imagine a cut would feel from Edward Scissorhands. Weirdest haircut EVER. Once he has battered me senseless, he clips it all up again and clips, basically, one hair at a time. Clip, measure. clip, measure. It was very....deliberate. Finally, an hour later, he hands me back to Ralphie for the blow out. Why do salon blow dries take so long? It's like the blow drier contains the exhalations of a single vole. Then Sam comes back, runs his fingers through it again, and sends me on my way. I was basically pleased, although honestly, after all that work, I ought to be unrecognizable.
Taking a picture of myself is always a treat. I always get one of 4 looks.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I will CUT you."
The Hypnotist
I spared you the most common one: "Dude, this is good weed!" But yes, I took many and those are the cream of the crop. I'm ever so photogenic.
To paraphrase Vincent, "It's a good haircut, but it ain't worth no fuckin' $75."
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Goo Goo Goo Joob
It's all right now...of course, it's after midnight, but still. I can breathe in here. It's been one of those days where it's so hot and humid that showers just keep breaking out randomly. We went to the Middletown carnival tonight and it kept...sneezing rain. Just as refreshing as it sounds.
I got into a Beatles argument with Jerry. He mentioned that a friend had paid $500 to see Paul McCartney (honestly, every time I see that poster of him in the Starbucks, I want to poke him in the eye. You're 75 years old, dude. You are so past cute. Stop it.) and I said that I wouldn't pay that for the Beatles Back From The Dead Tour. And HE said...deep breath..."It would be the same thing, since McCartney WAS the Beatles." Seriously. He said that. When my head stopped spinning around shooting flames outta my eyes, I said, "The Beatles without John Lennon is The Monkeys." Jerry retorted, gesturing at the band a yonder, "So what do you think they'll play first-- a Lennon or McCartney tune?" I looked at them. Sequined vests. One dude in a band hat. Whimsical mustaches..."I'm gonna go with McCartney there." He realized his flawed analogy. "Okay, if you went around here asking people to name a Beatles tune, I bet almost all of them would name one penned by McCarney." "Probably. But if I went someplace cool..." Bev was cracking up. But seriously? Revolution? In My Life? Norwegian Wood? Girl? C'mon! He can have "Michelle." Philistine. And I'll just leave my brief childhood marriage to Ringo unspoken. I'm quite sure that "Octopus' Garden" is an undiscovered work of genius.
Good to know that arguments I had in junior high can still be relevant 28 years later.
More to come in the next cool snap. I shall go to bed humming Across the Universe...
I got into a Beatles argument with Jerry. He mentioned that a friend had paid $500 to see Paul McCartney (honestly, every time I see that poster of him in the Starbucks, I want to poke him in the eye. You're 75 years old, dude. You are so past cute. Stop it.) and I said that I wouldn't pay that for the Beatles Back From The Dead Tour. And HE said...deep breath..."It would be the same thing, since McCartney WAS the Beatles." Seriously. He said that. When my head stopped spinning around shooting flames outta my eyes, I said, "The Beatles without John Lennon is The Monkeys." Jerry retorted, gesturing at the band a yonder, "So what do you think they'll play first-- a Lennon or McCartney tune?" I looked at them. Sequined vests. One dude in a band hat. Whimsical mustaches..."I'm gonna go with McCartney there." He realized his flawed analogy. "Okay, if you went around here asking people to name a Beatles tune, I bet almost all of them would name one penned by McCarney." "Probably. But if I went someplace cool..." Bev was cracking up. But seriously? Revolution? In My Life? Norwegian Wood? Girl? C'mon! He can have "Michelle." Philistine. And I'll just leave my brief childhood marriage to Ringo unspoken. I'm quite sure that "Octopus' Garden" is an undiscovered work of genius.
Good to know that arguments I had in junior high can still be relevant 28 years later.
More to come in the next cool snap. I shall go to bed humming Across the Universe...
eehhhhhnnnn
So. hot. Computer.room.has.no.a/c unit... to come...4th of July...PdPalooza...maybe other stuff...but now...back to my room...
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