Friday, November 26
Three random things:
First, if you have not experienced The Meatrix, do. Really. This shit is important.
Second, apparently I was right about the crawdad commiting suicide in our resovoir. Bits of his mortal remains have started coming out the end of the hose. Not the way I'd choose to go.
Third, it's beginning to occur to us all that maybe my grandmother hoards things a little too religiously. We all knew she kept enough canned goods around to last through the next ice age, but we really hadn't grasped the magnitude of the thing until my bro borrowed an (unopened) bottle of corn syrup from her. It still had the price sticker on. 37 cents.
Soooo, when was the last time a quart of corn syrup cost 37 cents? Anyone?
Then when I went to borrow toothpicks from her today she handed me an unopened package, saying, "Don't bother bringing back what's left. I'm pretty sure they were my mother's."
We are using my great-grandmother's toothpicks.
The hoarding is genetic.
I think I'm worried.
First, if you have not experienced The Meatrix, do. Really. This shit is important.
Second, apparently I was right about the crawdad commiting suicide in our resovoir. Bits of his mortal remains have started coming out the end of the hose. Not the way I'd choose to go.
Third, it's beginning to occur to us all that maybe my grandmother hoards things a little too religiously. We all knew she kept enough canned goods around to last through the next ice age, but we really hadn't grasped the magnitude of the thing until my bro borrowed an (unopened) bottle of corn syrup from her. It still had the price sticker on. 37 cents.
Soooo, when was the last time a quart of corn syrup cost 37 cents? Anyone?
Then when I went to borrow toothpicks from her today she handed me an unopened package, saying, "Don't bother bringing back what's left. I'm pretty sure they were my mother's."
We are using my great-grandmother's toothpicks.
The hoarding is genetic.
I think I'm worried.
Thursday, November 25
Heh. Yes, I am catching up a bit on my reading on this lovely holiday. From Making Light:
One of the reasons I’ve never believed satanic ritual abuse narratives—the ones where the supposed victims are always being “groomed” (they always use that word) to become the high priest or priestess of the group—is that their stories are devoid of normal human complications. Nobody ever develops chest pains, and has to be gotten out of their ceremonial robes and rushed to an ER. Nothing funny ever happens. Nobody ever fluffs a complex ritual. The air conditioning never breaks down. There are no theological or procedural disputes, no arguments about bookkeeping, no rebellious music committees. Satanic covens are never incapacitated because the potato salad sat out too long before the pre-ceremony setup session potluck. But most tellingly of all, no satanic group is ever riven by dissension because a couple of its members have started selling Amway and they won’t shut up about it.
Excuse me, I must go laugh hysterically now.
One of the reasons I’ve never believed satanic ritual abuse narratives—the ones where the supposed victims are always being “groomed” (they always use that word) to become the high priest or priestess of the group—is that their stories are devoid of normal human complications. Nobody ever develops chest pains, and has to be gotten out of their ceremonial robes and rushed to an ER. Nothing funny ever happens. Nobody ever fluffs a complex ritual. The air conditioning never breaks down. There are no theological or procedural disputes, no arguments about bookkeeping, no rebellious music committees. Satanic covens are never incapacitated because the potato salad sat out too long before the pre-ceremony setup session potluck. But most tellingly of all, no satanic group is ever riven by dissension because a couple of its members have started selling Amway and they won’t shut up about it.
Excuse me, I must go laugh hysterically now.
By way of Confessions of a Post-Graduate Pity Whore, it's Things I Will Not Do When I Direct A Shakespeare Play.
32. I will not employ a conception of Caliban which would require him to wear a ghastly furry costume reminiscent of a hypothetical offspring of Chewbacca and the Wolf from Into the Woods.
265. Do not set fire to the actors to emphasise their emotions. It never helps.
332. Techies should never be forced to play fairies in Midsummer just so they can move sets. They're disgruntled enough as it is.
Oh, yes. This is indeed good.
And happy Thanksgiving to y'all who live in my country, I hope you're as full of good food as I am.
32. I will not employ a conception of Caliban which would require him to wear a ghastly furry costume reminiscent of a hypothetical offspring of Chewbacca and the Wolf from Into the Woods.
265. Do not set fire to the actors to emphasise their emotions. It never helps.
332. Techies should never be forced to play fairies in Midsummer just so they can move sets. They're disgruntled enough as it is.
Oh, yes. This is indeed good.
And happy Thanksgiving to y'all who live in my country, I hope you're as full of good food as I am.
Wednesday, November 24
I spent the past 3 days in Ft. Lauderdale diving for my BA, and I have to say I am not happy to be home. It's pissing down here. Also it's cold, it's muddy, there's no decent seafood within a hundred-mile radius, and the cows are in a really shitty mood - figuratively and literally. To top it all off the pressure hose was running slow tonight, making getting rid of that shitty mood an extra-tedious job. If we're very unlucky that means that something somewhere in the water system has gone horribly wrong, but the resovoir looks fine, so probably it's just another crawdad who's decided to commit suicide by jamming his body in the intake valve. Yes, I said another. We really need to get those guys some therapy or something.
Friday, November 19
My mother's birthday was yesterday. It revealed a few amusing differences - and similarities - in the family.
I went on Powell's and ordered Guy Gavriel Kay's newest for her about a week and a half ago - cutting it a little close, but the book got here on time, so I figured it was all okay.
Two days before her birthday, my brother started talking about how he needed to go shopping.
The day before her birthday he was panicking about where he was going to find time to go shopping. When there was still no sign of his leaving at one o'clock, I took pity on him and mentioned it to Mom in suitably vague terms. She understood me perfectly, of course, but it's tactful to be vague in these circumstances. (At least, so people tell me, and having no native tact myself I pretty much have to take it on faith.)
"You'd better talk to your father about giving him some time off," she said.
"Okay. Where's Dad?"
"I don't know."
I went looking for my father. I didn't find him, but I did find that Mom's car was missing. So was mine.
Apparently they'd both gone... shopping.
But that wasn't the amusing bit.
In due time the bro came home with his shopping bag and showed off his swag to me, rather anxiously. My parents are getting increasingly interested in wine, so he'd bought her a wine rack. I told him it was nice (it was) and that she'd love it, and so on, and he went off reassured.
The next morning we all said happy birthday to Mom and she and Dad went off for their cheese-delivery-slash-shopping trip. I noticed that the bro was looking a little glum.
"What's up?"
"You know how Dad went shopping yesterday?"
"Yeah?"
"He bought her a wine rack too."
... but that still wasn't the funny bit.
So poor bro was still out a present, but he at least had an idea: he could get her one of those little things you put wine on the table in with water all around it. A wine cooler. (Not to be confused with the disgusting little drinky things.) The trouble was, how was he going to get time to go get one?
'Well, Staff is doing a cheese delivery to a winery today," I said. "Why don't you see if he'll pick you one up?"
There were many phone calls, but in the end, the bro had a present, and he was happy, and we could all get on with our day.
In due time the parents returned from their shopping trip (with no rear window in the car, but that's another story.) Mom had gotten an entire day of shopping in without Dad complaining, so she was happy, and Dad was able to take the bro aside and tell him that, since he knew the two of them had gotten the same present, and he knew bro would never have time to go shopping again, and they were in a winery anyway, he'd bought Mom...
All right, all together now....
That was the funny bit.
So now there is a lot of excess wine paraphenalia stored in various people's closets and we all have to be very, very careful not to talk about it in front of Mom. But it was a good birthday anyway; the bro made cake, I made gnocchi, Dad grilled tuna, and we ate ourselves silly and drank loads of wine and had fun. That's what counts.
I should probably start nagging the bro about Christmas shopping now, though, 'cause I don't want to go through this again.
I went on Powell's and ordered Guy Gavriel Kay's newest for her about a week and a half ago - cutting it a little close, but the book got here on time, so I figured it was all okay.
Two days before her birthday, my brother started talking about how he needed to go shopping.
The day before her birthday he was panicking about where he was going to find time to go shopping. When there was still no sign of his leaving at one o'clock, I took pity on him and mentioned it to Mom in suitably vague terms. She understood me perfectly, of course, but it's tactful to be vague in these circumstances. (At least, so people tell me, and having no native tact myself I pretty much have to take it on faith.)
"You'd better talk to your father about giving him some time off," she said.
"Okay. Where's Dad?"
"I don't know."
I went looking for my father. I didn't find him, but I did find that Mom's car was missing. So was mine.
Apparently they'd both gone... shopping.
But that wasn't the amusing bit.
In due time the bro came home with his shopping bag and showed off his swag to me, rather anxiously. My parents are getting increasingly interested in wine, so he'd bought her a wine rack. I told him it was nice (it was) and that she'd love it, and so on, and he went off reassured.
The next morning we all said happy birthday to Mom and she and Dad went off for their cheese-delivery-slash-shopping trip. I noticed that the bro was looking a little glum.
"What's up?"
"You know how Dad went shopping yesterday?"
"Yeah?"
"He bought her a wine rack too."
... but that still wasn't the funny bit.
So poor bro was still out a present, but he at least had an idea: he could get her one of those little things you put wine on the table in with water all around it. A wine cooler. (Not to be confused with the disgusting little drinky things.) The trouble was, how was he going to get time to go get one?
'Well, Staff is doing a cheese delivery to a winery today," I said. "Why don't you see if he'll pick you one up?"
There were many phone calls, but in the end, the bro had a present, and he was happy, and we could all get on with our day.
In due time the parents returned from their shopping trip (with no rear window in the car, but that's another story.) Mom had gotten an entire day of shopping in without Dad complaining, so she was happy, and Dad was able to take the bro aside and tell him that, since he knew the two of them had gotten the same present, and he knew bro would never have time to go shopping again, and they were in a winery anyway, he'd bought Mom...
All right, all together now....
That was the funny bit.
So now there is a lot of excess wine paraphenalia stored in various people's closets and we all have to be very, very careful not to talk about it in front of Mom. But it was a good birthday anyway; the bro made cake, I made gnocchi, Dad grilled tuna, and we ate ourselves silly and drank loads of wine and had fun. That's what counts.
I should probably start nagging the bro about Christmas shopping now, though, 'cause I don't want to go through this again.
Wednesday, November 10
Uh-huh. Livejournal meme.
Real post soon, I swear. It's been a busy.... month?! Okay, *real* soon.
Real post soon, I swear. It's been a busy.... month?! Okay, *real* soon.
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