(lookit these TWICE a day entries.) Yesterday I got only a Sierra Trading and a Land's End catalog. But today: Hanes, J. Crew, Sahalie, Solutions, Norm Thompson, L.L. Bean, Hanna Andersson, Heifer International, and Living Arts.
Steve would like me to point out my vacuum post as a public service announcement. The reason I got exactly what I wanted was b/c I ASKED for exactly what I wanted. I did not hope he would read my mind, would know that my sighing at dust balls mean "I sure would like a Miele Orion vacumm cleaner." As a well-trained boy, he would never, on his own, go by me cleaning supplies as a gift. That way lies madness. It's in the same neighborhood as "Does this make me look fat?" and we avoid that place at ALL times of day. So. Ladies (and Gents, for that matter), do not hope to get what you want simply by force of love. He loves you plenty, but gifts scare him. He's afraid of getting the wrong thing. So just TELL him. We now return you to your previously scheduled You Tube surfing.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Less talk, more Monkey.
Monkeys For Helping, that is. The same site that introduced me to my beloved Daler Mendhi has given me the Teutonic stylings of Dschingis Khan, but with "subtitles." It's not a translation, but just what it sounds like they're saying in English. It's kind of awesome:
And if you dig it, you can go back for more. Like the eponymously named "Dchingis Khan" which features the lyric "I want my monkey laughing." And, yes, Tunak Tunak Tun. God bless the Internet.
And if you dig it, you can go back for more. Like the eponymously named "Dchingis Khan" which features the lyric "I want my monkey laughing." And, yes, Tunak Tunak Tun. God bless the Internet.
Monday, December 4, 2006
The love that dare not speak its name
That's right, love between a woman and her vacuum cleaner. I got my Hanukkamas present early--a Miele Orion. Oh, how I love it. I'm fairly certain that houses with lots of fussy woodwork should come with them standard. I've swept the felted dust off of my transoms. I've sucked glitter and lego arms from between my floorboards. I even got the radiator brush--my radiators are now cobweb free. I can even, by using the soft brush and the lowest power setting, dust my plant.
I have only one plant, a peace lily. It is the only plant I know that is capable of telling me that it needs water. Plants that don't speak up until it's too late do not last long. So now it's just saggy and cat-munched, instead of saggy, cat-munched, and dusty. And yes, I know they're toxic to cats. I've never actually SEEN the cats chomp it, but it sure is ratty. But clean!
It really is a little embarrassing when people ask me what I want for the holidays and I excitedly say I already got it--Steve got me a vacuum! And they get already to bond in sisterly outrage at getting a cleaning appliance. But far more useful than diamonds. Far more likely to improve my mood than gold. The house feels lighter. I think I shall write a sonnet.
For just a mere six hundred bucks
(I'm sure THAT is causing some yucks)
You can make your spouse happy,
She'll likely get sappy.
That you gave her a present that sucks.
Okay, so it was a limerick. Whaterya gonna do?
Slurpity Suckity
Miele Orion
Sucks up the dirt that
lies on my floor
I fear that my love for it
Prosthelitizingly
Makes me look vacuous
and quite a bore.
See, Double Dactyl. That's love, baby.
I have only one plant, a peace lily. It is the only plant I know that is capable of telling me that it needs water. Plants that don't speak up until it's too late do not last long. So now it's just saggy and cat-munched, instead of saggy, cat-munched, and dusty. And yes, I know they're toxic to cats. I've never actually SEEN the cats chomp it, but it sure is ratty. But clean!
It really is a little embarrassing when people ask me what I want for the holidays and I excitedly say I already got it--Steve got me a vacuum! And they get already to bond in sisterly outrage at getting a cleaning appliance. But far more useful than diamonds. Far more likely to improve my mood than gold. The house feels lighter. I think I shall write a sonnet.
For just a mere six hundred bucks
(I'm sure THAT is causing some yucks)
You can make your spouse happy,
She'll likely get sappy.
That you gave her a present that sucks.
Okay, so it was a limerick. Whaterya gonna do?
Slurpity Suckity
Miele Orion
Sucks up the dirt that
lies on my floor
I fear that my love for it
Prosthelitizingly
Makes me look vacuous
and quite a bore.
See, Double Dactyl. That's love, baby.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
The day brings love and tall leafy trees. Watch for lions.
No mail today, so no catalogs. I know you're crushed.
Last night when I was getting ready to brush Lily's teeth, she asked to use my toothbrush. I said no, she asked to use Julianna's, I said no. I told her that civilized people use their own toothbrushes. "What does civilized mean?"
"Mm...not wild."
"Are WE civilized?"
"Yes."
"Is Aunt Stacey civilized?"
"Yes."
"Is Hayley civilized?"
"Yeah."
"Is Aunt Tash civilized?"
"Uh...more or less." (are you reading Tash?)
I don't know, it was funny at the time. Like she was figuring out who shared the same religion or something.
Then tonight in the car, Ben was asking everyone's sign of the Zodiac. Lily said, "What am I?"
"You're a Virgo."
"Awww, I hate Virgo. I want to be a giraffe."
Last night when I was getting ready to brush Lily's teeth, she asked to use my toothbrush. I said no, she asked to use Julianna's, I said no. I told her that civilized people use their own toothbrushes. "What does civilized mean?"
"Mm...not wild."
"Are WE civilized?"
"Yes."
"Is Aunt Stacey civilized?"
"Yes."
"Is Hayley civilized?"
"Yeah."
"Is Aunt Tash civilized?"
"Uh...more or less." (are you reading Tash?)
I don't know, it was funny at the time. Like she was figuring out who shared the same religion or something.
Then tonight in the car, Ben was asking everyone's sign of the Zodiac. Lily said, "What am I?"
"You're a Virgo."
"Awww, I hate Virgo. I want to be a giraffe."
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Day 2 and holding
To be fair, I only received one catalog today (Garnet Hill).
We went to an Indian cultural festival at a local high school today. The ad in the paper said it ran from 2-8, with the cultural program running from 4-6. We got there around 3:00, thinking we could look around and eat and such until 4. But there was nothing to do. There were tables of gorgeous saris, and at least 3 real estate agents, but no food. It wasn't coming until later. So Julianna, Lily, and I got a henna'd hand and we went to the hobby store until time for the culture. Steve and I are both hopeless Indiophiles, but are kind of embarrassed by it, since it seems so...I don't know, colonial? to find everything about India so delightful. And of course, I know it isn't all masala and Bollywood, so you don't need to fill me in. But how can you not love this guy?
Daler Mehndi
I would TOTALLY camp out for his concert. Anyway, the cultural program was a hoot. They couldn't get the sound system working, so there was this woman reading poetry in Hindi. Some bits were apparently hilarious and she'd crack up and then apologize to those of us who don't speak the language. She'd say, "Well, you know boys and their flowery language!" Um, no? They'd call up someone to say a few words--the police chief came up and said that they're always hiring if anyone needs work. Not exactly run out of town on a rail, eh? So anyway, they called up about 6 different people, said the pledge. Sang the national anthem of the US (We love America!!) and then of India. Fiiiinally, the dancers came out and were adorable and awesome and beautiful all at once. Young girls, some of them really into it, some of them unable to BELIEVE they had to do this STUPID dance JUST because grandma insists. GEEZ. It's always funny to go to some gathering of another culture and note how if you just plug in different clothes, smells, sounds, it's more or less the same deal. It could have been an Irish folk fest, a Jewish festival, Greeks...whatever. Same same, only different.
We went to an Indian cultural festival at a local high school today. The ad in the paper said it ran from 2-8, with the cultural program running from 4-6. We got there around 3:00, thinking we could look around and eat and such until 4. But there was nothing to do. There were tables of gorgeous saris, and at least 3 real estate agents, but no food. It wasn't coming until later. So Julianna, Lily, and I got a henna'd hand and we went to the hobby store until time for the culture. Steve and I are both hopeless Indiophiles, but are kind of embarrassed by it, since it seems so...I don't know, colonial? to find everything about India so delightful. And of course, I know it isn't all masala and Bollywood, so you don't need to fill me in. But how can you not love this guy?
Daler Mehndi
I would TOTALLY camp out for his concert. Anyway, the cultural program was a hoot. They couldn't get the sound system working, so there was this woman reading poetry in Hindi. Some bits were apparently hilarious and she'd crack up and then apologize to those of us who don't speak the language. She'd say, "Well, you know boys and their flowery language!" Um, no? They'd call up someone to say a few words--the police chief came up and said that they're always hiring if anyone needs work. Not exactly run out of town on a rail, eh? So anyway, they called up about 6 different people, said the pledge. Sang the national anthem of the US (We love America!!) and then of India. Fiiiinally, the dancers came out and were adorable and awesome and beautiful all at once. Young girls, some of them really into it, some of them unable to BELIEVE they had to do this STUPID dance JUST because grandma insists. GEEZ. It's always funny to go to some gathering of another culture and note how if you just plug in different clothes, smells, sounds, it's more or less the same deal. It could have been an Irish folk fest, a Jewish festival, Greeks...whatever. Same same, only different.
Friday, December 1, 2006
today's tally
I know it is important to my readers that they not doubt my veracity. Thus, I'll give you a catalog tally for today: Young Explorers, Sierra Trading Post, Toys to Grow On, Territory Ahead, Leaps and Bounds, REI, Sensational Beginnings, Lands' End (AGAIN), FootSmart, Company Store, Company Kids, and North Style.
In one day.
In one day.
Unfortunately, the Character is Snidley Whiplash
Okay, December 1st (and it's supposed to reach the mid-70s today. Hello? Who broke the sky?) and I'm going to post every day, right?
So. To those of you who have always longed for an old house, a house "with character," I give you this--things you hear contractors say when you can finally get one out to look at whatever has most recently gone wrong on your 100 year old house:
--"Never saw THAT before."
--(calling partner over) "You have got to SEE this. C'mere."
--"Yeah. This will involve punching holes in the plaster."
and , most recently...
--"Oh WOW."
Those words from the chimney sweep dude, upon looking up into our chimney. Which, it should be noted, we just wanted cleaned. We weren't even aware that anything WAS wrong (another bonus in an old house--surprises!)
When I first saw our house, I stood on the porch with the Realtor (tm) and called Steve and said, and I quote, "Unless there is a gaping hellmouth on the inside, we're taking it." No hellmouth, per se (unless you ask Lara, but that's another story), but there was most assuredly a money pit. But they tend to hide inside the walls so you can't see them. They cover themselves up with vintage plaster and quaint woodwork and Character. Bastids. We'd hoped to retire in this house. Which we love. But the house seems to be making certain no one ever retires. They just load up into an Airstream trailer and then go back to England.
That was the previous owners. Everyone loved The Warrens. "Oh, you bought the Warrens' house!" We've been here almost 3 years and still it is The Warrens house (they only lived here 5, by the way, it's not like Old Man Warren was born and died here). Woe unto them should they appear on our doorstep, for Steve would throttle the both of them. It's like they hired set techs to do all the repairs. They LOOKED good and sturdy, but after a two week run of the production, it all started to crumble. Apparently, they now live in a 500 year old house with a thatched roof, somewhere near Bath. Sitting there sipping tea, having a larf over slipping it over on the Yanks. Limey Bastids.
So. To those of you who have always longed for an old house, a house "with character," I give you this--things you hear contractors say when you can finally get one out to look at whatever has most recently gone wrong on your 100 year old house:
--"Never saw THAT before."
--(calling partner over) "You have got to SEE this. C'mere."
--"Yeah. This will involve punching holes in the plaster."
and , most recently...
--"Oh WOW."
Those words from the chimney sweep dude, upon looking up into our chimney. Which, it should be noted, we just wanted cleaned. We weren't even aware that anything WAS wrong (another bonus in an old house--surprises!)
When I first saw our house, I stood on the porch with the Realtor (tm) and called Steve and said, and I quote, "Unless there is a gaping hellmouth on the inside, we're taking it." No hellmouth, per se (unless you ask Lara, but that's another story), but there was most assuredly a money pit. But they tend to hide inside the walls so you can't see them. They cover themselves up with vintage plaster and quaint woodwork and Character. Bastids. We'd hoped to retire in this house. Which we love. But the house seems to be making certain no one ever retires. They just load up into an Airstream trailer and then go back to England.
That was the previous owners. Everyone loved The Warrens. "Oh, you bought the Warrens' house!" We've been here almost 3 years and still it is The Warrens house (they only lived here 5, by the way, it's not like Old Man Warren was born and died here). Woe unto them should they appear on our doorstep, for Steve would throttle the both of them. It's like they hired set techs to do all the repairs. They LOOKED good and sturdy, but after a two week run of the production, it all started to crumble. Apparently, they now live in a 500 year old house with a thatched roof, somewhere near Bath. Sitting there sipping tea, having a larf over slipping it over on the Yanks. Limey Bastids.
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