Showing posts with label Marin for Saint in '08. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marin for Saint in '08. Show all posts
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Things I Learned in 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Girl Noises
OK, so it's a time of year when there's a lot of sappy to be had. And it's a time of year when I find I want little sap with my morning coffee.
So I got this email...
[SUMMARY: Don't judge.]
...and it's predictable. And sappy. And manipulative and trite and... I teared up a little.†
So I'm posting it here for you. I am NOT getting soft.‡ I'm not preaching.§ It's just there's snow on the ground and lots of Christmas lights and the cat spends his evenings staring into the fire and... I can't not spread the sap.
[SUMMARY: Disclaimers R Us.]
Anyway...
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.¶ I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my Second World-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.
As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were, ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
Shut up. It's just an eyelash or something. No, I don't need a Kleenex.@
Ah, hell. Let's face it... Christmas is a little better if you can melt by the fire and count your blessings and maybe help a brother out.
[SUMMARY: Bah humbug and happy holidays.]
Here... go play with this and pretend I never got all marshmallowy over a dopey Christmas coat.
Just tell yourself I'm still trying to earn enough saint points for the 2008 campaign.#
*************
Greenbriar 1968†† - CB I Hate Perfume
Marin says: Outdoors. It smells like a fresh spring day in a bucolic location. Cold, wet grass and a touch of mud, leaves and bark, wood, pine.
Something a tiny bit sweet, but not floral -- carmel? Brown sugar? Maple? Too elusive to pin down. Maybe just a sweet wood?
There's also something salty or petroleum -- the sort of thing that usually turns out to be leather, though it may just be the pine, which frequently reads petroleum‡‡ to me.
In any case, I kinda love this. It's so lucidly evocative it's like remembering a dream or a distant memory. I can see the dirt road and the meadow and the woods and the old fence and the lush, lush green of an icy April. Fantastically unisex, too.
CB says: This scent is a memory of my Grandfather, the sawmill that he owned and the stone house where he lived.
It is blended with Sawdust,$ Fresh Cut Hay,$ Worn Leather Work Gloves,$ Pipe Tobacco$ and a healthy amount of Dirt.$ There is also a faint whiff of cotton overalls§§ covered in Axel Grease...¶¶
Hans says: A tree. Like outside. Like a leaf. Grassy! I'm still getting some... basically, if you were to mow the lawn. And mow over a really small pine tree.## Grass and pine mowed together. I really like it.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I *said* don't judge.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): When I was 16, Ken La Pear (not quite his real name, but it was what we called him), who was a bombastic windbag that would make Rush Limbaugh look introspective, told me I was sentimental. Whether it was my personal feeling that sentimentality is weak or whether it was just because Ken said so, it pissed me off mightily. Then my best friend Jeff signed my yearbook to, "...one of the smartest, funniest, most creative, but -- above all -- sentimental people I know..." and I seethed a little quieter. It still rubs me the wrong way, though.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For a wannabe saint, I'm remarkably unpreachy.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Vis-à-vis the sentimentality question, I like to think Grandma and I have a LOT in common.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Besides, if you could see the effort it took me to NOT remove a bunch of exclamation points and rearrange some of the grammar and punctuation... you'd realise I haven't lost my edge at all. I'm the same do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do obsessive compulsive weirdo you've always known me to be. No sentiment here. Nuh-uh.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's really all very self-serving. Kim? Softball for you?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I figure if Nathan is nice enough to enable my perfume problem, I should be nice enough to tell him which perfume I'm actually smelling. See: yesterday's mystery perfume review.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Just around the edges. If you're skeptical now, just wait until I tell you how similar jasmine and bowling alley ashtray are.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Using the magic Marin system of claiming sawdust and pipe tobacco could be mistaken for wood and conveniently ignoring the fact that I only got a tiny bit of dirt and there appear to be no pine trees involved at all... I nailed it!
§§FOOTNOTE (little ribbons of cotton): Did not get that at all. You know I'm going to be up half the night trying to smell cotton now.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (pistons in axel grease): Unfortunately, axel grease is a different smell-creature than petroleum, so I don't think I can claim that.
##FOOTNOTE (not just pounded... downright smashed): Watching this, I wished for the hundredth time you guys could see the hand motions and the little dances that accompany Hans's search for the truth.
So I got this email...
[SUMMARY: Don't judge.]
...and it's predictable. And sappy. And manipulative and trite and... I teared up a little.†
So I'm posting it here for you. I am NOT getting soft.‡ I'm not preaching.§ It's just there's snow on the ground and lots of Christmas lights and the cat spends his evenings staring into the fire and... I can't not spread the sap.
[SUMMARY: Disclaimers R Us.]
Anyway...
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.¶ I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted.... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my Second World-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.
As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were, ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
Shut up. It's just an eyelash or something. No, I don't need a Kleenex.@
Ah, hell. Let's face it... Christmas is a little better if you can melt by the fire and count your blessings and maybe help a brother out.
[SUMMARY: Bah humbug and happy holidays.]
Here... go play with this and pretend I never got all marshmallowy over a dopey Christmas coat.
Just tell yourself I'm still trying to earn enough saint points for the 2008 campaign.#
*************
Greenbriar 1968†† - CB I Hate Perfume
Marin says: Outdoors. It smells like a fresh spring day in a bucolic location. Cold, wet grass and a touch of mud, leaves and bark, wood, pine.
Something a tiny bit sweet, but not floral -- carmel? Brown sugar? Maple? Too elusive to pin down. Maybe just a sweet wood?
There's also something salty or petroleum -- the sort of thing that usually turns out to be leather, though it may just be the pine, which frequently reads petroleum‡‡ to me.
In any case, I kinda love this. It's so lucidly evocative it's like remembering a dream or a distant memory. I can see the dirt road and the meadow and the woods and the old fence and the lush, lush green of an icy April. Fantastically unisex, too.
CB says: This scent is a memory of my Grandfather, the sawmill that he owned and the stone house where he lived.
It is blended with Sawdust,$ Fresh Cut Hay,$ Worn Leather Work Gloves,$ Pipe Tobacco$ and a healthy amount of Dirt.$ There is also a faint whiff of cotton overalls§§ covered in Axel Grease...¶¶
Hans says: A tree. Like outside. Like a leaf. Grassy! I'm still getting some... basically, if you were to mow the lawn. And mow over a really small pine tree.## Grass and pine mowed together. I really like it.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I *said* don't judge.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): When I was 16, Ken La Pear (not quite his real name, but it was what we called him), who was a bombastic windbag that would make Rush Limbaugh look introspective, told me I was sentimental. Whether it was my personal feeling that sentimentality is weak or whether it was just because Ken said so, it pissed me off mightily. Then my best friend Jeff signed my yearbook to, "...one of the smartest, funniest, most creative, but -- above all -- sentimental people I know..." and I seethed a little quieter. It still rubs me the wrong way, though.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For a wannabe saint, I'm remarkably unpreachy.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Vis-à-vis the sentimentality question, I like to think Grandma and I have a LOT in common.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Besides, if you could see the effort it took me to NOT remove a bunch of exclamation points and rearrange some of the grammar and punctuation... you'd realise I haven't lost my edge at all. I'm the same do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do obsessive compulsive weirdo you've always known me to be. No sentiment here. Nuh-uh.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It's really all very self-serving. Kim? Softball for you?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I figure if Nathan is nice enough to enable my perfume problem, I should be nice enough to tell him which perfume I'm actually smelling. See: yesterday's mystery perfume review.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Just around the edges. If you're skeptical now, just wait until I tell you how similar jasmine and bowling alley ashtray are.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Using the magic Marin system of claiming sawdust and pipe tobacco could be mistaken for wood and conveniently ignoring the fact that I only got a tiny bit of dirt and there appear to be no pine trees involved at all... I nailed it!
§§FOOTNOTE (little ribbons of cotton): Did not get that at all. You know I'm going to be up half the night trying to smell cotton now.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (pistons in axel grease): Unfortunately, axel grease is a different smell-creature than petroleum, so I don't think I can claim that.
##FOOTNOTE (not just pounded... downright smashed): Watching this, I wished for the hundredth time you guys could see the hand motions and the little dances that accompany Hans's search for the truth.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tickle Me Simba
TTHFCIF
One would think there would be a certain freedom to having one's tubes tied.
Not necessarily, as some ungracious pastors pointed out, the freedom from condoms, but the freedom from certain tensions surrounding the sex act.† And future freedoms of financial and social varieties.
Freedom from 4:00 ayem feedings.
Freedom from second-party barf.‡
Freedom from babysitting bills.
Freedom from paying for band uniforms.
Freedom from teenaged-boy car insurance bills.
Freedom from college funds.
[SUMMARY: I'm pretty sure that's in the Constitution.]
Apparently, being a doting aunt, it does NOT include freedom from whatever the latest toy craze may be.
The conversation goes something like this:
"What is Dr. Doom into? Animals is all I know for sure. Does he have any new fetishes or hobbies that would at least give me a theme for this Christmas?"
"eBeth is SO glad you asked. The only thing he wants this year is this animatronic stuffed lion cub. We don't know where he saw it or where you get it,§ but nobody is getting him one. It's got a name like 'fur real' or something. It's a commitment -- like a $50 stuffed animal..."
"Fifty dollars is nothing to Superaunt."
"Well, it's the only thing he wants and it could be The Lion that Ruined Christmas."¶
"That's pretty much my goal."
[SUMMARY: I just want the Christmas shopping to be over.]
So I blithely Googled "animatronic stuffed lion" this morning and found a whole bunch of WowWee...
...and a sprinkling of FurReal.#
Seriously, all other things being equal, which would you choose?††
[SUMMARY: All lions are created equal, but some are more equal than others.]
Right.
So I set off to find a WowWee Alive Lion Cub in Tan,‡‡ only to discover I was seeking this year's Holy Grail of necessary toys. The Cabbage Patch doll, the Tickle Me Elmo, the fucking Furbee of 2008.
I have never been so stressed about Christmas in my life.
The MSRP is $49.99. Any retail store that lists them for anything *resembling* $49.99 is sold out.% Amazon has them for $190. A company called ANTOnline was charging $888 for one.§§
Since I started looking this morning, ANTOnline sold out.
Take a moment to goggle at that.
[SUMMARY: Lotta crazy in the world.]
I also learned that Canada will not ship to me. I don't know what I ever did to Canada, other than have a weird, inexplicable love^ for the country and its people, but Canadian Sears and Canadian ToysRUs won't ship to US addresses.
Thank goodness for eBay. For $90, including shipping, I am the proud winner of a genuine, NRFB,¶¶ WowWee Alive Lion Cub.
I shall live ten less years because of this ordeal, but Christmas is saved.##
[SUMMARY: Drawing the lion at ruining Christmas.@]
The gods bless us, everyone, but particularly eBay.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): i.e. -- condoms breaking.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Well, not second-party barf for which one is personally responsible.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Yeah, right. As a parent, aren't you plugged right in to the must-have toy market? I now realised I have been goodly duped by parents who don't wish to park at the loading dock of Wal*Mart at 3:30 in the ayem to fight women in polyester pants and pink curlers over the last of the WowWee Alive Lion Cubs (in Tan) and think the single and devoted aunt probably has the time, but definitely has the inclination.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which would be Dr. Doom's own personalised version of The Helicopter That Ruined Christmas. When Tallest, Hairiest Nephew was about a year-and-a-half, he had a thing for helicopters like Amy Winehouse has a thing for drugs. The very first present he opened that year was a helicopter that had lights and a motor and made noises and winched and the doors opened and everything. He had no interest in other presents. He had all he needed. He got cranky when other presents were thrust upon him. Ever since, we speak in hushed tones of The Helicopter That Ruined Christmas.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The FurReal name was right, but it's only $13. The other price was right, but the name was wrong.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I did try to call Brother to see if the concept was important or the brand, and if the brand was important, exactly which brand did he think I was looking for, and if I wanted the WowWee Alive line, would, say a tiger be sufficient or was lion important... only he wasn't answering the phone. Don't tell me he didn't know why I was calling.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): For that is its full name.
§§FOOTNOTE (it do spin one's head, don't it?): I can only assume the price includes an ounce of pharmaceutical grade coke.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): There are three other WowWee Alive cubs to be had (tiger, polar bear, panda) and not one of them is sold out anywhere. Every kid wants the lion because it looks like Simba from The Lion King. Damn Disney. And for the Jonas Brothers, too, so long as I'm making my infernal wish list.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Particularly inexplicable now that Canada has shunned me.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (like meerkats on the plains): Never Removed From Box. That's another thing I learned today -- eBayspeak. Sure, you couldn't just dump me on an eBay street corner and expect me to survive, but now I can at least ask where the bathroom is.
##FOOTNOTE (if that lion is two pounds, I'll eat a spider): And simultaneously ruined. See: helicopter.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I think I'm funny. More important, I think puns are funny.
One would think there would be a certain freedom to having one's tubes tied.
Not necessarily, as some ungracious pastors pointed out, the freedom from condoms, but the freedom from certain tensions surrounding the sex act.† And future freedoms of financial and social varieties.
Freedom from 4:00 ayem feedings.
Freedom from second-party barf.‡
Freedom from babysitting bills.
Freedom from paying for band uniforms.
Freedom from teenaged-boy car insurance bills.
Freedom from college funds.
[SUMMARY: I'm pretty sure that's in the Constitution.]
Apparently, being a doting aunt, it does NOT include freedom from whatever the latest toy craze may be.
The conversation goes something like this:
"What is Dr. Doom into? Animals is all I know for sure. Does he have any new fetishes or hobbies that would at least give me a theme for this Christmas?"
"eBeth is SO glad you asked. The only thing he wants this year is this animatronic stuffed lion cub. We don't know where he saw it or where you get it,§ but nobody is getting him one. It's got a name like 'fur real' or something. It's a commitment -- like a $50 stuffed animal..."
"Fifty dollars is nothing to Superaunt."
"Well, it's the only thing he wants and it could be The Lion that Ruined Christmas."¶
"That's pretty much my goal."
[SUMMARY: I just want the Christmas shopping to be over.]
So I blithely Googled "animatronic stuffed lion" this morning and found a whole bunch of WowWee...
...and a sprinkling of FurReal.#
Seriously, all other things being equal, which would you choose?††
[SUMMARY: All lions are created equal, but some are more equal than others.]
Right.
So I set off to find a WowWee Alive Lion Cub in Tan,‡‡ only to discover I was seeking this year's Holy Grail of necessary toys. The Cabbage Patch doll, the Tickle Me Elmo, the fucking Furbee of 2008.
I have never been so stressed about Christmas in my life.
The MSRP is $49.99. Any retail store that lists them for anything *resembling* $49.99 is sold out.% Amazon has them for $190. A company called ANTOnline was charging $888 for one.§§
Since I started looking this morning, ANTOnline sold out.
Take a moment to goggle at that.
[SUMMARY: Lotta crazy in the world.]
I also learned that Canada will not ship to me. I don't know what I ever did to Canada, other than have a weird, inexplicable love^ for the country and its people, but Canadian Sears and Canadian ToysRUs won't ship to US addresses.
Thank goodness for eBay. For $90, including shipping, I am the proud winner of a genuine, NRFB,¶¶ WowWee Alive Lion Cub.
I shall live ten less years because of this ordeal, but Christmas is saved.##
[SUMMARY: Drawing the lion at ruining Christmas.@]
The gods bless us, everyone, but particularly eBay.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): i.e. -- condoms breaking.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Well, not second-party barf for which one is personally responsible.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Yeah, right. As a parent, aren't you plugged right in to the must-have toy market? I now realised I have been goodly duped by parents who don't wish to park at the loading dock of Wal*Mart at 3:30 in the ayem to fight women in polyester pants and pink curlers over the last of the WowWee Alive Lion Cubs (in Tan) and think the single and devoted aunt probably has the time, but definitely has the inclination.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which would be Dr. Doom's own personalised version of The Helicopter That Ruined Christmas. When Tallest, Hairiest Nephew was about a year-and-a-half, he had a thing for helicopters like Amy Winehouse has a thing for drugs. The very first present he opened that year was a helicopter that had lights and a motor and made noises and winched and the doors opened and everything. He had no interest in other presents. He had all he needed. He got cranky when other presents were thrust upon him. Ever since, we speak in hushed tones of The Helicopter That Ruined Christmas.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The FurReal name was right, but it's only $13. The other price was right, but the name was wrong.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I did try to call Brother to see if the concept was important or the brand, and if the brand was important, exactly which brand did he think I was looking for, and if I wanted the WowWee Alive line, would, say a tiger be sufficient or was lion important... only he wasn't answering the phone. Don't tell me he didn't know why I was calling.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): For that is its full name.
§§FOOTNOTE (it do spin one's head, don't it?): I can only assume the price includes an ounce of pharmaceutical grade coke.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): There are three other WowWee Alive cubs to be had (tiger, polar bear, panda) and not one of them is sold out anywhere. Every kid wants the lion because it looks like Simba from The Lion King. Damn Disney. And for the Jonas Brothers, too, so long as I'm making my infernal wish list.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Particularly inexplicable now that Canada has shunned me.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (like meerkats on the plains): Never Removed From Box. That's another thing I learned today -- eBayspeak. Sure, you couldn't just dump me on an eBay street corner and expect me to survive, but now I can at least ask where the bathroom is.
##FOOTNOTE (if that lion is two pounds, I'll eat a spider): And simultaneously ruined. See: helicopter.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I think I'm funny. More important, I think puns are funny.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
God is My Personal Trainer
Sorry. Got stuck behind a car with umpteen† Jesus stickers on the back% and I'm in a wicked, mocking mood where evangelical sound bites‡ are concerned.§
In any case, a very inspirational trip leading to an appropriate blogtitle. Totally worth all the hassle.¶
[SUMMARY: Priorities.]
Last week, I had some earnest discussion about going to the gym. I was even going to go talk to personal trainers one night. Only I couldn't find my gym card.
Which may tell you a little something about how often it gets used.#
[SUMMARY: Blue moons and flying pigs.]
So I went to the 24 Hour Fitness website to order a new one. Technology-wise, 24HF is a step behind the world, and their website is surprisingly unhelpful.
First, I had to enter my membership number. Which I don't have. Because it's on my membership card.
The next step was to call customer service in Bangalor and get said number.
Then plug it into the website.††
Then enter my name, address and phone.‡‡
Then write a paragraph on why I needed a new card.§§
Then receive instructions to print out a form¶¶ and mail it, along with a check## for $10 to an address in California, where they would hold High Council to determine if I am worthy enough to receive a new card in four to six weeks.
[SUMMARY: Customer slavery.]
So I closed my web browser without completing the process and vowed to make a concerted effort to find the original card.
I received a new membership card in the mail last night.
I believe this is the universe's way of telling me to get to the gym already.
[SUMMARY: I hate it when the justification goes the wrong way.]
Hmmm... maybe this could count as another miracle under my belt.
*************
Osmanthus - The Difference Company
Marin says: I tried this while Hans was in Thailand, with the idea that he would have to sit and olfact a whole assload of perfumes when he got back. I re-tried it today when I made him smell it.
Osmanthus is one of those things I don't know. What does osmanthus smell like, all on its own? This is the second Osmanthus I've smelled and I don't think it smells anything like the other one. This is like a SweeTart, but soapier. It started out more botanical, but as many of these things go, it's become increasingly soapy/musky.†††
Second time around, I was intrigued by a delicate lime -- almost like lime leaves rather than lime juice -- and a light, elusive floral. Then the floral roared up and I smell like lipstick and cheap rose perfume. If Bonne Belle made rose Lipsmackers, it would go something like this. It's surprisingly strong for a Jean Claude Ellena scent.‡‡‡
The Perfumed Court says: An elegant fragrance that with delightfully fruity,$ floral$ notes of osmanthus, green leaf,$ bergamot,$ orange, mandarinee, rose,$ baies roses,$ castoreum, hay and musk.$
Hans says: That smells a lot like that one yesterday.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Greek for "assload."
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I am not categorically opposed to Jesus. I am, however, categorically opposed to bumper stickers.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Including, "Real Men Love Jesus" in a "Frankie Say Relax" graphic format. I think most of you are old enough to remember Frankie and his Relax shirts.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Particularly since the saintly asshole rode my bumper, whipped around me, cut me off, then somehow managed to cut me off twice more -- howintheHELLdidhegetbehindme -- on the way in to downtown.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I only wish I was being funny there. Sometimes my devotion to clever blogthings (read: what I think of as clever blogthings) overrides better reason.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I believe the exact answer is "twice in the last two years."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Because "Melanie," the nice Mumbaian woman who gave me my membership number couldn't help me with a new card.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Check me: shouldn't this have come up with my membership number?
§§FOOTNOTE (fine Spencerian script, like I do all my essays): OK, a tiny exaggeration here, but I did have to give the specific reason I was requesting a replacement card.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (oh, my aching heads -- softball, Kim): Which I didn't actually see, but I suspect was not filled out through prior information gathering.
##FOOTNOTE (how many pounds before I get my gym card?): I've used my checkbook fewer times than my gym card in the last two years. Who requires checks anymore? Oh, wait, I just answered that...
†††FOOTNOTE (Oh, look! A bumper sticker!): Did you know musk isn't all animalic and sexual and rutting? I always thought it was, but it's actually soapy. And if we're talking "actually," it's sort of a reverse-engineering thing. The scent added to laundry soaps starting way back in the 30's (I may be making that up) is a musk, so we associate musk smells with soap now. You're welcome.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (supply lines are getting thinner and harder to maintain): Nathan Branch said Grain de Musc said of another JCE creation, "...one of Jean Claude Ellena's many variations on the smell of water."
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Well, if you count bergamot as close enough to lime leaves for our purposes.
In any case, a very inspirational trip leading to an appropriate blogtitle. Totally worth all the hassle.¶
[SUMMARY: Priorities.]
Last week, I had some earnest discussion about going to the gym. I was even going to go talk to personal trainers one night. Only I couldn't find my gym card.
Which may tell you a little something about how often it gets used.#
[SUMMARY: Blue moons and flying pigs.]
So I went to the 24 Hour Fitness website to order a new one. Technology-wise, 24HF is a step behind the world, and their website is surprisingly unhelpful.
First, I had to enter my membership number. Which I don't have. Because it's on my membership card.
The next step was to call customer service in Bangalor and get said number.
Then plug it into the website.††
Then enter my name, address and phone.‡‡
Then write a paragraph on why I needed a new card.§§
Then receive instructions to print out a form¶¶ and mail it, along with a check## for $10 to an address in California, where they would hold High Council to determine if I am worthy enough to receive a new card in four to six weeks.
[SUMMARY: Customer slavery.]
So I closed my web browser without completing the process and vowed to make a concerted effort to find the original card.
I received a new membership card in the mail last night.
I believe this is the universe's way of telling me to get to the gym already.
[SUMMARY: I hate it when the justification goes the wrong way.]
Hmmm... maybe this could count as another miracle under my belt.
*************
Osmanthus - The Difference Company
Marin says: I tried this while Hans was in Thailand, with the idea that he would have to sit and olfact a whole assload of perfumes when he got back. I re-tried it today when I made him smell it.
Osmanthus is one of those things I don't know. What does osmanthus smell like, all on its own? This is the second Osmanthus I've smelled and I don't think it smells anything like the other one. This is like a SweeTart, but soapier. It started out more botanical, but as many of these things go, it's become increasingly soapy/musky.†††
Second time around, I was intrigued by a delicate lime -- almost like lime leaves rather than lime juice -- and a light, elusive floral. Then the floral roared up and I smell like lipstick and cheap rose perfume. If Bonne Belle made rose Lipsmackers, it would go something like this. It's surprisingly strong for a Jean Claude Ellena scent.‡‡‡
The Perfumed Court says: An elegant fragrance that with delightfully fruity,$ floral$ notes of osmanthus, green leaf,$ bergamot,$ orange, mandarinee, rose,$ baies roses,$ castoreum, hay and musk.$
Hans says: That smells a lot like that one yesterday.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Greek for "assload."
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I am not categorically opposed to Jesus. I am, however, categorically opposed to bumper stickers.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Including, "Real Men Love Jesus" in a "Frankie Say Relax" graphic format. I think most of you are old enough to remember Frankie and his Relax shirts.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Particularly since the saintly asshole rode my bumper, whipped around me, cut me off, then somehow managed to cut me off twice more -- howintheHELLdidhegetbehindme -- on the way in to downtown.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I only wish I was being funny there. Sometimes my devotion to clever blogthings (read: what I think of as clever blogthings) overrides better reason.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I believe the exact answer is "twice in the last two years."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Because "Melanie," the nice Mumbaian woman who gave me my membership number couldn't help me with a new card.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Check me: shouldn't this have come up with my membership number?
§§FOOTNOTE (fine Spencerian script, like I do all my essays): OK, a tiny exaggeration here, but I did have to give the specific reason I was requesting a replacement card.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (oh, my aching heads -- softball, Kim): Which I didn't actually see, but I suspect was not filled out through prior information gathering.
##FOOTNOTE (how many pounds before I get my gym card?): I've used my checkbook fewer times than my gym card in the last two years. Who requires checks anymore? Oh, wait, I just answered that...
†††FOOTNOTE (Oh, look! A bumper sticker!): Did you know musk isn't all animalic and sexual and rutting? I always thought it was, but it's actually soapy. And if we're talking "actually," it's sort of a reverse-engineering thing. The scent added to laundry soaps starting way back in the 30's (I may be making that up) is a musk, so we associate musk smells with soap now. You're welcome.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (supply lines are getting thinner and harder to maintain): Nathan Branch said Grain de Musc said of another JCE creation, "...one of Jean Claude Ellena's many variations on the smell of water."
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Well, if you count bergamot as close enough to lime leaves for our purposes.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Well, Now, I'll Just Have a Little Lick Over Here
I can't believe I forgot to use these pigs on Halloween. I was so giddy over the Hersheys with Omens cartoon I flat forgot.
So, Happy Post-Halloween Thanksgivingish Continuum.
[SUMMARY: Fall.]
And I find I have a bunch of little things and nothing worth its own blogpost. That's what licking the pig is all about, my friends.
[SUMMARY: To recap...]
First, there was a little nudge in the comments to spill the beans on my cereal purchase. I may have been remiss in where it came from. Their contact address is in New Hampshire, the "about us" mentions sublets in NYC and the cereal came packed with wadded Boston Globes, so... east coast. Possibly New York.
Anyway, it's a company called [me] & goji† that I found through Gizmodo or Geekologie. The cereal is spectacular. I'm a cereal fan in general, but this cereal takes the cake.‡
On their website, you§ travel through a list of ingredients -- different flakes, grains, seeds, nuts, berries -- and add what you want to your cereal bowl. As each item is added, the nutritional information label on the right reflects your choices.
Then you name your cereal.¶ Then you buy your cereal. Then your cereal is hand-packed by a REALLY cute boy.# It's almost like having cabana boys. In New York. Or maybe New Hampshire.
It is, of course, a little expensive for cereal. Like lovingly hand-knit socks are a little more expensive than socks-by-the-dozen from Old Navy.††
Also? You can buy carbon offsets to ameliorate the guilt of having cereal shipped across the country.
Also? Goldenberries are really, really sour. You should get something sweet to go with them if you get goldenberries.‡‡
[SUMMARY: I have impulse control problems in so many arenas.]
Lace knitting may be the death of me. Despite my chest-pounding over being able to count on beyond four, I'm not sure that's accurate. Or maybe just not consistent.
The good news is Malabrigo Lace, despite its fuzziness, holds up pretty well through multiple froggings.
[SUMMARY: Says the voice of experience.]
Last week, a new billboard went up. I called Hans, excitedly,% and he immediately decided we should bet lunch on what the billboard would be.
"How specific?"
"Category. Specific category. I'm going to say... ski resort."
"Shit. That's a good one. I bet you win. Um... health care!"
I win.
Of course, I have to look at the surprisingly creepy guys§§ on the billboard until they take it down. I'm guessing since everybody finds it so creepy, this billboard is the one that will stick through the next six months.
[SUMMARY: A message of hope.]
A chocolate eyeball escaped from the Halloween candy some time within the last couple of weeks and got covered by a knitting pattern then ground into the carpet. I'm blaming it on the cat.
If anyone knows how to get chocolate out of shag carpet, let me know.
[SUMMARY: The joys of homeownership. And cat ownership. And chocolate eyeballs.]
Today I wore my jacket when we went to lunch. Friday I bought a snow brush/scraper for the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World. Seemingly unrelated events.
Seemingly.
I believe they are both important steps on my campaign to become St. Marin of the Mountains, patron saint of fuzzy crack, fuzzy cats and odd sexual positions.¶¶
See, I know if I had not sweated my way through lunch today unnecessarily, if I had not purchased a $12 snow thingie, it would be cold and snowing for the rest of the winter. As it stands, I have assured my fellow citizens a pleasant Monday's lunchtime and a minimum of snow this season.
If that's not martyrdom, I don't know what is.
Unfortunately, I haven't heard a peep from the Vatican yet. How many miracles does one woman have to perform before the frickin' Vatican will take notice?
[SUMMARY: Not a theology major.]
I'm pretty sure I had more to share, but I don't know what it might have been. Hell, I gave you Terry and Chas. What more could you want from me?
*************
Champaca - Ormonde Jayne
Marin says: The first blast makes me want to say "lime," only it's not quite that bright -- more like one of those tough, bitter grasses that you'd nibble on when you were a kid and too young to worry about how bitter it was.
It dries down within minutes to a watery, woody, slightly citrusy smell. There's something dry and sharp in it, like pepper, but very little scent of any kind left.
I feel like I'm missing the whole lovely roll-out because it's too small to smell.
This may be the first Ormonde Jayne I'm not delighted with -- the scent itself is fine, but it's so fleeting it's best on the cuffs rather than the wrist.##
Ormonde Jayne says: (A tiny pale orange flower from India) Related to the magnolia and deemed sacred in the Indus Valley, Champaca flower absolute is a heavenly, creamy floral scent - both elegant and intimate.$ Blended with neroli and bamboo and underscored with fragrant rice and green tea notes, this is a distinguished perfume of rare beauty.
Top: Neroli,$ pink pepper$ and bamboo
Heart: Champaca and freesia absolutes, basmati notes
Base: Myrrh, green tea notes and musk
Hans says: Sour smelling, like... I almost got it... right at the end, like an herb. Just at the end.
[like lime, but not limey enough to be lime, I said]
Yeah! Not super-citrusy, more earthy. Earthy sour citrusy. Write it down.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Their grammar, not mine.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Heh.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And by "you," I really mean "you," 'cause I'm guessing a solid majority of those who go check out the website won't be able to resist building their own cereal, even if they never actually order. It's like some low-tech, high-fibre video game.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Like having kids or getting a puppy, naming rights are part of the charm. My cereals are "The Bible Tells Me So" because it had a lot of biblical grains in it and "Hopin' Sesame" because there are sesame seeds in it and I'm the biggest dork in the world.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Adam packed mine. He hand-signed both containers in blue Sharpie, which I think is a charming touch.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): If I speak your language, it's so much easier for you to understand.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): The Bible Tells Me So contains artisanal cereal, spelt flakes, goldenberry and chia (runner up name: Chia, My Pet). Hopin' Sesame contains: flaxed and flaked, rye flakes, goji, bananas, blueberries and sesame seeds (runner up name: Goji, bo-boji, banana-fana, fo-bluberry, me-my-rye flake, sesame!). I know you wanted to ask.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Excited because it was a political billboard, referencing some ballot issue we were sure we'd have to look at for months after the vote was in and counted. Not excited because they were changing the billboard. They do that about every other week.
§§FOOTNOTE (how are we going to spin this?): We have nicknamed them Terry and Chas. Chas's full name is Charles "Meatball" Thoroughbrace III. Only his mother calls him Trip and nobody's really called him Meatball anymore since Winky Bushmeyer died in '97. And if you think they're not creepy, click for big.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (heads up, Vatican City): Still working on the particulars. I figure I don't need to have it all nailed down until I make my acceptance speech. There's an awards ceremony, right?
##FOOTNOTE (reasons too numerous to number): A concept I ddn't figure out for the longest time. When perfumes evaporate too quickly, they'd apparently be better off sprayed on the clothing, which will absorb and hold them, then on the skin where they eventually wear off. At least, that's what I think it means. That's what I'm talking about, in any case.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): I'm counting "intimate" as "nobody can smell it now unless they're intimate with me."
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Incoming!
You know another good way to get mail? Swap.
I suspect there's something in swapping that smacks of scrapbooking and tole painting -- something geeky in a just-so way -- but I love getting the mail.
My very own Dracula swap package came yesterday.
I kinda dig the Victoriana of brown paper packages tied up with string.† Seems Dracula-appropriate.‡
There were munchies too.
In all my travels this Halloween season, I never saw the Ghirardelli bat-black chocolates. Also? I forgot how much I love those barber pole hard candies of the many flavours.§ I must go add them to my Secret Pal list.
And I'm very excited about the idea of pomegranate green tea. I don't know why -- teas purporting to fruit are usually disappointing, but this is pomegranate! And green tea!¶
There's squishy sock yarn in classic Dracula colours#:
What I believe is a dumpling bag with -- get this -- bite marks. I think that's brilliant.
I got a set of stitch markers.
I think the bats in particular are wicked cool.†† Very detailed.
We're clearly into photo-sucking season, boys and girls. I get home too late to take advantage of natural light, but I'm too greedy and impatient to wait until daylight to open stuff.‡‡
I'm NEVER going to make it to saint at this rate.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I also dig knowing somewhere eBeth is wandering around singing that to herself.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I think we need more buzz-words like "Dracula-appropriate" and less "child-friendly" or "action item."
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Like old-school Jelly Bellies. Only without popcorn flavour.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And with all those exclamation points, it *has* to be good!
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): In a colourway that used to be Yarrrrn, but has been dubbed by Kat (my upstream swap buddy) "Dracula's Lust." It has "lust" in it... it *has* to be good!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can't pull that off, can I?
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I tried. Really. But it was like a mosquito bite -- I could try to ignore it, try not to scratch it, but eventually I gave in. I can't lie... it felt good.
I suspect there's something in swapping that smacks of scrapbooking and tole painting -- something geeky in a just-so way -- but I love getting the mail.
My very own Dracula swap package came yesterday.
I kinda dig the Victoriana of brown paper packages tied up with string.† Seems Dracula-appropriate.‡
There were munchies too.
In all my travels this Halloween season, I never saw the Ghirardelli bat-black chocolates. Also? I forgot how much I love those barber pole hard candies of the many flavours.§ I must go add them to my Secret Pal list.
And I'm very excited about the idea of pomegranate green tea. I don't know why -- teas purporting to fruit are usually disappointing, but this is pomegranate! And green tea!¶
There's squishy sock yarn in classic Dracula colours#:
What I believe is a dumpling bag with -- get this -- bite marks. I think that's brilliant.
I got a set of stitch markers.
I think the bats in particular are wicked cool.†† Very detailed.
We're clearly into photo-sucking season, boys and girls. I get home too late to take advantage of natural light, but I'm too greedy and impatient to wait until daylight to open stuff.‡‡
I'm NEVER going to make it to saint at this rate.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I also dig knowing somewhere eBeth is wandering around singing that to herself.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I think we need more buzz-words like "Dracula-appropriate" and less "child-friendly" or "action item."
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Like old-school Jelly Bellies. Only without popcorn flavour.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And with all those exclamation points, it *has* to be good!
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): In a colourway that used to be Yarrrrn, but has been dubbed by Kat (my upstream swap buddy) "Dracula's Lust." It has "lust" in it... it *has* to be good!
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can't pull that off, can I?
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I tried. Really. But it was like a mosquito bite -- I could try to ignore it, try not to scratch it, but eventually I gave in. I can't lie... it felt good.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Tongue Bone Connected to the Pig Bone
OK... everybody who laughed at "tongue bone," raise your hands.
Everybody who laughed at "pig bone"?
We are so twelve.
[SUMMARY: Status quo. We has it.]
*************
I used to park in the $9 lot across the street from the office. I started parking at a $3 lot down the street from the office, only partly because we were recently given a parking per diem and I am now making $5 parking three blocks away.
But that's not the important part. The important part is that I have to have $3 cash every day. This led to many amusing incidents wherein I tried to make my lunch bill or grocery bill come out to a certain amount so I would get piles of ones back in my change.%
With my last paycheck, I got proactive and took the odd amount† in cash and asked for ones.‡
So I sit some nights in front of the TiVi, carefully folding individual bills in half, in half, in half again... then paper-clipping three together. Then I put those little, paper-clipped bundles in one of the organza bags that haunts my life and carry them proudly§ in my purse.
Some of you are probably thinking what a obsessive dork I am, but I tell you all this to point out something even dorkier: someone gets paid to unfold all those dollar bills from the parking bank.
[SUMMARY: Job security. They has it.]
*************
Know one of the great things about cold weather?¶
Footie pajamas.
Target sells them every year sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving. They tend to go fast, so keep an eye out.#
[SUMMARY: Sexy. I lost it.]
*************
My knitting has been non-existent in the past three or four weeks.
I picked up the needles this weekend to make a bat for the Dracula swap on Ravelry. The pattern is... oblique. I need more pictures.
Or I may just have to start making shit up.
It's called making a comeback.
[SUMMARY: Skillz. I still has some.]
*************
I -- we -- also seriously lapsed on our push up quest. However, I'm going to reassess myself and start wherever I need to. I'm not giving up, just temporarily flaking out.
[SUMMARY: Ambitions. I... oh, you get the idea. I'm not sure how funny the lolcat construct is in repetitive text.]
*************
Now back to work. Werk.
Well, at least back to bossing Hans around.
[SUMMARY: Work ethic...]
*************
Tolu - Ormonde Jayne
Marin says: Elusive. It smelled like cinnamon and toilet paper (remember the Marin lexicon for scents - TP is not bad, just descriptive). A little powdery, but for once, not in a bad way. Opaque, but light, and mostly sweet, not in a bad way.
Oops. Spoke too soon. I had lilac-scented powder when I was a kid and this is a thick, nominally more sophisticated version of that now.
Dries down to a powdery-sweet dry wood.
Ormonde Jayne says: (A Peruvian†† tree resin.) Perfume treasure, this opulent velvety formulation with pure Tolu resin takes you on a sensual Oriental journey. Laced with golden frankincense and amber, the scent's core is enveloped with a heady mix of orange blossom and clary sage, while intense citrus notes consolidate the harmony.
Top: Juniper berry, orange blossom and clary sage
Heart: Orchid, Moroccan rose and muguet
Base: Tolu, tonka bean, golden frankincense and amber$
Hans says: Smoky. Not smoky-smoky... maybe it's because I had two cigars last night. Musty?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): It became a weird lifestyle thing. When I realised I was planning large parts of my shopping, budget and whole days to trying to track down one... more... dollar... bill... well, it was time for a better plan of action.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Actually, it was $88, which is a distinctly even amount, but it was the amount that made my deposit end in two zeros.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I was kind. I told the terrified little girl at the teller's window she didn't have to count out the $25 bundles for me.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hey, you'd be proud too if you got the change-making monkey off your back.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): It's a segueway. A rhetorical segueway. I'm sure y'all could come up with lot of good things about cold weather that have nothing to do with my pajamas.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Yes, I know you can buy them year-round on the Innernets, but it's like seasonal fruit: there's something shiny about the scarcity.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Heh. Peruvian. That one's for you, Jaxon.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): I got nothing.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
| Your Attention Span is Long |
 You're attention span is amazingly long. You can concentrate well, and your mind doesn't stray easily. Even if you have a mundane task to complete, you can get it done easily. Because you don't get distracted, you accomplish more than most people. Your self discipline is your greatest strength. You can will yourself to do almost anything. All you have to do is put your mind to it. |
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
This is the Blog that Never Ends†
My favourite part of last night‡ was when Mike Ditka said JaMarcus Russell was retarded.§
I'm pretty sure that's not very Christian or saintly, but I'm pretty sure I can scrape up some good Satan-based¶ scripture to support my views on the Raiders.
[SUMMARY: St. Marin, my ass.#]
I did, however have a pretty saintly encounter with the push ups last night, and today they hurt.
I fear Wednesday.
[SUMMARY: I bet there's a Greek name for Fear of Push Ups on Wednesday.%]
Hans is gone to Lusk again until Friday. Let us revel in his last perfume review and count the days until he returns.
*************
One Leaf Clove - Cobalt Blends (oil)
Marin says: Ook. At first glance, it's kinda awful. There's a pleasant enough (if banal) floral with a touch of wood to it... but fighting it is a synthetic, kool-aid fruit smell, like something a four-year-old inexplicably likes in his breakfast cereal.
Fortunately, that dissolves away fairly quickly, leaving just a tangy hint in the background under a bed of soft rose cupping a light clove with maybe a touch of bitter orange. But you only get that snorking right up on the wrist -- the impressionistic distance†† is still a little sweet and definitely unremarkable.
Confession: I really loved this around midnight.‡‡ After a long day of wallowing in bed and watching football, it was a really rich, slightly dirty cocoa that made my mouth water.
Scent Scribbles says:§§ Clove, fig, juicy blood orange,$ peach,$ oakmoss and a gossamer drizzle of honey.$
Hans says: Lavender and lemon
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You'd think that some days, when I had nothing to say, I'd just shut up. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, that and the final score.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If Al Davis isn't Satan, I don't know who is.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Do saints say "ass"?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ectaco.com tells me ΑΝΕΒΆΖΩ is Greek for push up, but all the sites agree there are no Wednesdays in Greece. So I have Anebazophobia on Wednesdays.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's the important part. It's what I smell when I'm typing, for instance, or what you might smell if you ran into me at the grocery store.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): That's a long time to wait for the yummy.
§§FOOTNOTE (supply and demand curves): Cobalt Blends no longer has a description, since it was a limited edition. And now you have a good idea of why I bought it. Such a sucker.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! Mostly becaues I'm counting peach + honey drizzle = Fruity Pebbles.
I'm pretty sure that's not very Christian or saintly, but I'm pretty sure I can scrape up some good Satan-based¶ scripture to support my views on the Raiders.
[SUMMARY: St. Marin, my ass.#]
I did, however have a pretty saintly encounter with the push ups last night, and today they hurt.
I fear Wednesday.
[SUMMARY: I bet there's a Greek name for Fear of Push Ups on Wednesday.%]
Hans is gone to Lusk again until Friday. Let us revel in his last perfume review and count the days until he returns.
*************
One Leaf Clove - Cobalt Blends (oil)
Marin says: Ook. At first glance, it's kinda awful. There's a pleasant enough (if banal) floral with a touch of wood to it... but fighting it is a synthetic, kool-aid fruit smell, like something a four-year-old inexplicably likes in his breakfast cereal.
Fortunately, that dissolves away fairly quickly, leaving just a tangy hint in the background under a bed of soft rose cupping a light clove with maybe a touch of bitter orange. But you only get that snorking right up on the wrist -- the impressionistic distance†† is still a little sweet and definitely unremarkable.
Confession: I really loved this around midnight.‡‡ After a long day of wallowing in bed and watching football, it was a really rich, slightly dirty cocoa that made my mouth water.
Scent Scribbles says:§§ Clove, fig, juicy blood orange,$ peach,$ oakmoss and a gossamer drizzle of honey.$
Hans says: Lavender and lemon
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You'd think that some days, when I had nothing to say, I'd just shut up. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, that and the final score.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If Al Davis isn't Satan, I don't know who is.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Do saints say "ass"?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ectaco.com tells me ΑΝΕΒΆΖΩ is Greek for push up, but all the sites agree there are no Wednesdays in Greece. So I have Anebazophobia on Wednesdays.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's the important part. It's what I smell when I'm typing, for instance, or what you might smell if you ran into me at the grocery store.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): That's a long time to wait for the yummy.
§§FOOTNOTE (supply and demand curves): Cobalt Blends no longer has a description, since it was a limited edition. And now you have a good idea of why I bought it. Such a sucker.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! Mostly becaues I'm counting peach + honey drizzle = Fruity Pebbles.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Secret Pal 12 Question 12
I'm sure most of us have a proudest moment when it comes to knitting. A project or technique that you've tackled and completed beautifully. What is your proudest knitting moment?
If you've been around me enough,† you've heard my bird-by-bird philosophy of knitting. It's not pretentious or flip, it's really how I feel.‡
Generally, pride comes simply from finishing something§ because I have yet to find a pattern that didn't fall under that "it's either knit or purl" umbrella.¶
[SUMMARY: Pride is a sin, you know.# I'm still running for saint.]
And on the flip side? What is the one thing that you can't get right? What is that one project that you've never been able to complete? Or that you did complete but then hid away instantly because it was too embarrassing?
I have a *lot* of projects I haven't completed.
I haven't completed them generally because they aren't birthday or Christmas presents for someone else†† and birthdays and Christmas rolled around, necessitating deadline knitting.
Oh, wait... not quite true.
We've all of us KALers given up on the stupid Sebring tank because the pattern sizing is so very wrong and none of is *that* interested in fighting it.@ It's just a tank top. It shouldn't become rocket science.
But not because we "can't get it right" -- just 'cause the pattern is so bad.
[SUMMARY: I sleep well at night with my clear knitting conscience.]
Trust me... inasmuch as this is still a knitblog, you will know when I find that stitch that ties me in knots or that technique that simply eludes me.
There will be cussing.‡‡
*************
Bois de Iles - Chanel
Marin says: Heavy and sweet. I don't know if it's power of suggestion from knowing "Chanel" is in the name, but I get a lot of aldehyde right off the bat. Also rose and sandalwood, which I'm starting to recognise as a classic -- overdone -- combination.
It's a Bois, so there should be wood, but... well, I guess sandalwood is wood, but when I see "wood," I'm always hoping for something more like tree bark.§§
The nice part is that the aldehyde seems to be under the other stuff, so it isn't too overwhelmingly No. 5 for me.
There's some other flower... I'm thinking lilac.
Oh, there's some wood. Aldehyde + sandalwood = cedar.¶¶ I like cedar.
The Perfumed Court says: The first woody fragrance created for women (in 1926). This Oriental woody scent has notes of sandalwood,$ vetiver,% tonka bean, vanilla, ylang ylang,^ iris, coriander, rose,$ jasmine and aldehydes.$
Hans says: Whoo.## That smells like baby powder! Only... something else... my first impression is baby powder, but... I want to nail this! Maybe I'm just thinking lavender baby powder. Only it's not really lavendery.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Or been around the Rickety Blog enough.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Seriously. I've never looked at a pattern to see if I could do it. I just look to see if I like it, then figure I can do it. Wouldn't it be lovely if I could approach all tasks with that kind of calm confidence? Like dating? For instance?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The bigger, the prouder. Square footage counts.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not that I'm looking.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, OK... I will admit I was inordinately proud when Genius Sarah told me last week my stockinette is amazing. Do I get points for confessing?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which is to say there's an assload of stuff I've started for myself, some experimental just-because projects for other people and poor Brother's sadly overdue Arrrgyle socks, which now take a back seat because they're already late and I don't see the logic in making everything else late on their behalf.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I don't think I mentioned Bag Lady Kathryn wrote to the designer of the Sebring (there's no errata available for the tank) to ask if corrections were forthcoming or if she could give us some tips, as even the fattest of us (*ahem*) knitting an extra-small were in danger of slipcovering a Jeep with the results. Said designer said nobody had ever complained and very helpfully suggested we hadn't checked our gauge (that was sarcastic -- of COURSE we checked our gauge. If you have to start a project for the third time because it's waywayway too big, you check the gauge). Then she suggested the gauge for the lace panel should actually be smaller (7 st/in) than for the stockinette (6.75 st/in). Which suggested to me she's not thinking clearly and maybe never had a test-knitter on the thing.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And vodka.
§§FOOTNOTE (seahorses!): Pine. I mostly think of pine when I think of wood. I bet there's a fancy term for sandalwood wood vs. pine wood.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (noses!): Just a theory.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I still don't know what vetiver smells like.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I'm beginning to think I only hate ylang-ylang in bubble bath and shower gel. Maybe it doesn't react well with soap.
##FOOTNOTE (pound one in! Wait! Pound *two* in!): He may even have said, "Whoo doggy!"
If you've been around me enough,† you've heard my bird-by-bird philosophy of knitting. It's not pretentious or flip, it's really how I feel.‡
Generally, pride comes simply from finishing something§ because I have yet to find a pattern that didn't fall under that "it's either knit or purl" umbrella.¶
[SUMMARY: Pride is a sin, you know.# I'm still running for saint.]
And on the flip side? What is the one thing that you can't get right? What is that one project that you've never been able to complete? Or that you did complete but then hid away instantly because it was too embarrassing?
I have a *lot* of projects I haven't completed.
I haven't completed them generally because they aren't birthday or Christmas presents for someone else†† and birthdays and Christmas rolled around, necessitating deadline knitting.
Oh, wait... not quite true.
We've all of us KALers given up on the stupid Sebring tank because the pattern sizing is so very wrong and none of is *that* interested in fighting it.@ It's just a tank top. It shouldn't become rocket science.
But not because we "can't get it right" -- just 'cause the pattern is so bad.
[SUMMARY: I sleep well at night with my clear knitting conscience.]
Trust me... inasmuch as this is still a knitblog, you will know when I find that stitch that ties me in knots or that technique that simply eludes me.
There will be cussing.‡‡
*************
Bois de Iles - Chanel
Marin says: Heavy and sweet. I don't know if it's power of suggestion from knowing "Chanel" is in the name, but I get a lot of aldehyde right off the bat. Also rose and sandalwood, which I'm starting to recognise as a classic -- overdone -- combination.
It's a Bois, so there should be wood, but... well, I guess sandalwood is wood, but when I see "wood," I'm always hoping for something more like tree bark.§§
The nice part is that the aldehyde seems to be under the other stuff, so it isn't too overwhelmingly No. 5 for me.
There's some other flower... I'm thinking lilac.
Oh, there's some wood. Aldehyde + sandalwood = cedar.¶¶ I like cedar.
The Perfumed Court says: The first woody fragrance created for women (in 1926). This Oriental woody scent has notes of sandalwood,$ vetiver,% tonka bean, vanilla, ylang ylang,^ iris, coriander, rose,$ jasmine and aldehydes.$
Hans says: Whoo.## That smells like baby powder! Only... something else... my first impression is baby powder, but... I want to nail this! Maybe I'm just thinking lavender baby powder. Only it's not really lavendery.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Or been around the Rickety Blog enough.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Seriously. I've never looked at a pattern to see if I could do it. I just look to see if I like it, then figure I can do it. Wouldn't it be lovely if I could approach all tasks with that kind of calm confidence? Like dating? For instance?
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The bigger, the prouder. Square footage counts.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not that I'm looking.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, OK... I will admit I was inordinately proud when Genius Sarah told me last week my stockinette is amazing. Do I get points for confessing?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which is to say there's an assload of stuff I've started for myself, some experimental just-because projects for other people and poor Brother's sadly overdue Arrrgyle socks, which now take a back seat because they're already late and I don't see the logic in making everything else late on their behalf.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): I don't think I mentioned Bag Lady Kathryn wrote to the designer of the Sebring (there's no errata available for the tank) to ask if corrections were forthcoming or if she could give us some tips, as even the fattest of us (*ahem*) knitting an extra-small were in danger of slipcovering a Jeep with the results. Said designer said nobody had ever complained and very helpfully suggested we hadn't checked our gauge (that was sarcastic -- of COURSE we checked our gauge. If you have to start a project for the third time because it's waywayway too big, you check the gauge). Then she suggested the gauge for the lace panel should actually be smaller (7 st/in) than for the stockinette (6.75 st/in). Which suggested to me she's not thinking clearly and maybe never had a test-knitter on the thing.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And vodka.
§§FOOTNOTE (seahorses!): Pine. I mostly think of pine when I think of wood. I bet there's a fancy term for sandalwood wood vs. pine wood.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (noses!): Just a theory.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one!
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I still don't know what vetiver smells like.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): I'm beginning to think I only hate ylang-ylang in bubble bath and shower gel. Maybe it doesn't react well with soap.
##FOOTNOTE (pound one in! Wait! Pound *two* in!): He may even have said, "Whoo doggy!"
Monday, August 18, 2008
It's Raining, It's Pouring
Despite the rain, I didn't get much knitting done Saturday.
You'd think the dark, raininess would be the perfect backdrop to a day of cosying up in the recliner with a ball of string, male swimmers on the TiVi and maybe a hot toddy of some sort.†
Just look at that knitting weather! And this is the sunniest it got all day!
[SUMMARY: Yes, I'm really talking about the weather.]
And the sharpest among you might put together the reason there was so little knitting:‡ I was at work. The lack of urgency by those providing the work has created panic on the back end§ and I was in the office on Saturday.
And Sunday.
And that's OK. Once in awhile, I like to do something that makes me feel really self-righteous like work on Saturday. And Sunday.
I always be sure to send a couple of emails out on the company account so people *know* I was working on Saturday.¶ And Sunday.
[SUMMARY: There's a Loverboy re-mix in there somewhere.]
Anyway, despite all the work, it was a refreshingly knitterly day.
I started out by going to the grand opening of the brand new Origins store in Cherry Creek. I'm not a subscriber to the Cult of Origin,# but they sent coupons in the mail -- one for $25 and one for a free medium whatever-you-want-to-drink from their coffee shop.
No purchase necessary.
As I drove in on empty streets, I figured the rainy weather might keep the crowds down.
Ha!
I got my tea and wandered around a little. The crowds made it too miserable to do any real power-shopping, which is good for me. I probably could've talked myself into a couple hundred dollars' worth of products if I'd had the time to lollygag around the store and talk to the nice salespeople.
So that was one nice thing. I got my $22.50 tube of moisturising body wash†† and stood in line.
And stood in line.
And stood in line.
[SUMMARY: Never underestimate the power of a free $25.]
And started to wonder if I was in danger of getting a parking ticket in the 2-hour space I'd nabbed.
And started thinking I should have called Tani to see if she wanted to stand in line because these things are tolerable with good company.
And started to think about giving up. At my per-hour wage, $25 didn't seem like that big a draw anymore. But there's that point where you feel you've invested too much time, or you're sure the registers are going to speed up any time or maybe the woman with the four kids is going to get tired of the whining and just GO...‡‡
Then the lady in line behind me started talking to me. Small talk. Then I held her place while she went and got some tea. Then she held my place while I went to the bathroom.
Would you believe we were halfway through the line before she said, "I'd much rather be home knitting right now."
I said, "Me too!"
Then she told me how she was getting errands done in the morning so she could sit in front of the Olympics in the afternoon, and I told her I was heading to work and when I told her I'm in the oil business, it turns out she's from Oklahoma and worked in the industry for quite some time.
Then she said, kinda timidly, "Were you just joking when you said you'd rather be knitting?"
"Oh, no. I'd *much* rather be knitting!"
So we talked about knitting and the hours passed pleasantly until we got to the front of the line.%
Isn't the world a marvelous place sometimes?
*************
Omanthe Yunnan - Hermes
Marin says: So light.
There's some very light floral and fruit, but I can't tell what kind. It smells a little like carnation, but not as cold, and with something a tiny bit deepter and woodier on top -- not that this is a woody scent, but maybe leaves. Or bamboo. Which is what I think of every time I think of a watery wood.
It's incredibly light, but that very light cloud gusts in every now and then so I know it's still there. When I nuzzle my wrists, there's almost nothing, yet there's... something. I'm not sure if I'm in a zen place or I just don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
The Perfumed Court says: Tea, flowers$ and fruit.$ Osmanthe Yunnan is smooth and tart, with a lasting tea note that is perfect for occasions when you want an original perfume that is not heavy, but lasts.
Hans says: I like that one. It's light. It's... I can't put my finger on it. It's refreshing.§§
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And you'd be right.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 'Cause, y'know... you'd notice that was taken out my office window.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I am the back end. I'm always the back end. Some day, when I grow up, I want to be the front end.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Passive-aggressive, anyone?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I didn't know there was one until I was invited onto their mothership.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't know. It was an impulse. It was free.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And by "you," I mean, "I."
%FOOTNOTE (percented): It also didn't hurt that Origins people kept bringing around Origins things to keep us entertained while we waited. There was the hand massage and the spearmint refresher stuff and these:
A trial-size tube of their most popular product, a sachet (it's zippered! I can use it again!) filled with lavender and roses and a blackberry bran muffin. That's all that's left of the blackberry bran muffin. I was hungry when I got to the office.
$FOOTNOTE (right on the money!): Ha! Got one!
§§FOOTNOTE (the world keeps turning): I'm giving Hans credit for that -- tea is refreshing, isn't it?
You'd think the dark, raininess would be the perfect backdrop to a day of cosying up in the recliner with a ball of string, male swimmers on the TiVi and maybe a hot toddy of some sort.†
Just look at that knitting weather! And this is the sunniest it got all day!
[SUMMARY: Yes, I'm really talking about the weather.]
And the sharpest among you might put together the reason there was so little knitting:‡ I was at work. The lack of urgency by those providing the work has created panic on the back end§ and I was in the office on Saturday.
And Sunday.
And that's OK. Once in awhile, I like to do something that makes me feel really self-righteous like work on Saturday. And Sunday.
I always be sure to send a couple of emails out on the company account so people *know* I was working on Saturday.¶ And Sunday.
[SUMMARY: There's a Loverboy re-mix in there somewhere.]
Anyway, despite all the work, it was a refreshingly knitterly day.
I started out by going to the grand opening of the brand new Origins store in Cherry Creek. I'm not a subscriber to the Cult of Origin,# but they sent coupons in the mail -- one for $25 and one for a free medium whatever-you-want-to-drink from their coffee shop.
No purchase necessary.
As I drove in on empty streets, I figured the rainy weather might keep the crowds down.
Ha!
I got my tea and wandered around a little. The crowds made it too miserable to do any real power-shopping, which is good for me. I probably could've talked myself into a couple hundred dollars' worth of products if I'd had the time to lollygag around the store and talk to the nice salespeople.
So that was one nice thing. I got my $22.50 tube of moisturising body wash†† and stood in line.
And stood in line.
And stood in line.
[SUMMARY: Never underestimate the power of a free $25.]
And started to wonder if I was in danger of getting a parking ticket in the 2-hour space I'd nabbed.
And started thinking I should have called Tani to see if she wanted to stand in line because these things are tolerable with good company.
And started to think about giving up. At my per-hour wage, $25 didn't seem like that big a draw anymore. But there's that point where you feel you've invested too much time, or you're sure the registers are going to speed up any time or maybe the woman with the four kids is going to get tired of the whining and just GO...‡‡
Then the lady in line behind me started talking to me. Small talk. Then I held her place while she went and got some tea. Then she held my place while I went to the bathroom.
Would you believe we were halfway through the line before she said, "I'd much rather be home knitting right now."
I said, "Me too!"
Then she told me how she was getting errands done in the morning so she could sit in front of the Olympics in the afternoon, and I told her I was heading to work and when I told her I'm in the oil business, it turns out she's from Oklahoma and worked in the industry for quite some time.
Then she said, kinda timidly, "Were you just joking when you said you'd rather be knitting?"
"Oh, no. I'd *much* rather be knitting!"
So we talked about knitting and the hours passed pleasantly until we got to the front of the line.%
Isn't the world a marvelous place sometimes?
*************
Omanthe Yunnan - Hermes
Marin says: So light.
There's some very light floral and fruit, but I can't tell what kind. It smells a little like carnation, but not as cold, and with something a tiny bit deepter and woodier on top -- not that this is a woody scent, but maybe leaves. Or bamboo. Which is what I think of every time I think of a watery wood.
It's incredibly light, but that very light cloud gusts in every now and then so I know it's still there. When I nuzzle my wrists, there's almost nothing, yet there's... something. I'm not sure if I'm in a zen place or I just don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
The Perfumed Court says: Tea, flowers$ and fruit.$ Osmanthe Yunnan is smooth and tart, with a lasting tea note that is perfect for occasions when you want an original perfume that is not heavy, but lasts.
Hans says: I like that one. It's light. It's... I can't put my finger on it. It's refreshing.§§
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And you'd be right.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 'Cause, y'know... you'd notice that was taken out my office window.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I am the back end. I'm always the back end. Some day, when I grow up, I want to be the front end.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Passive-aggressive, anyone?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I didn't know there was one until I was invited onto their mothership.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't know. It was an impulse. It was free.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And by "you," I mean, "I."
%FOOTNOTE (percented): It also didn't hurt that Origins people kept bringing around Origins things to keep us entertained while we waited. There was the hand massage and the spearmint refresher stuff and these:
A trial-size tube of their most popular product, a sachet (it's zippered! I can use it again!) filled with lavender and roses and a blackberry bran muffin. That's all that's left of the blackberry bran muffin. I was hungry when I got to the office.
$FOOTNOTE (right on the money!): Ha! Got one!
§§FOOTNOTE (the world keeps turning): I'm giving Hans credit for that -- tea is refreshing, isn't it?
Monday, August 11, 2008
Play that Funky Anthem, White Boy
Before we talk about all the things I'll be finishing, let's talk about something I'll be starting:
Out of this:
Which wasn't supposed to come in until the beginning of September, but my pusher, Sylvia, lured me to the House of Fuzzy Crack Friday to pick it up.†
This yarn is 30% rock.‡
When Sylia got the sample cards for this, it didn't matter how much yarn I already have. It didn't matter how many projects are already on my needles. I started thinking of knitting something out of rocks.
My geology-lovin' little heart grew three sizes that day.
And I liked the pattern when I saw it in the new Interweave Knits and was considering what to knit it of when the Yarn of Rocks came in.
So happens the pattern's even written for that EXACT GAUGE.
[SUMMARY: Fate.]
And before we get into things I'll be finishing, let's take a quick look at a couple of things I'm in the middle of. Like this:
That's the Malabrigo Lace Secret Pal sent for my birthday, and I finally found a project for it, the somewhat inelegantly-named "Scarf with French trellis border from Weldon's 1890 and bramble leaf center."
I'm calling it Purple Prose.^
Then there are Dad's Low Tide Socks, which now have heels§ and a little bit of leg.¶
I used a new heel method# that I really like: Short row, with no wrapping and turning and picking up wraps. Look how pretty it is:
But I'm not working on those projects for a little bit while I complete my Ravelympics events.††
Oh, look how much a knitblog this really is!
[SUMMARY: Just showing off.]
I completed one event in WIP Wrestling‡‡ mostly on Saturday,§§ and did fuck-all on my other WIP Wrestling event.¶¶
I wove in the ends on the Malabrigo slippers that are -- technically -- a Mother's Day present for my grandmother, and washed them and stuffed them with washcloths to block them into some form that didn't look like crumpled paper.
I then sat down to knit the acorn embellishment. I determined that said embellishment mostly resembled an oddly-coloured, hand-knit sperm, so I decided to leave the embellishment off.
Sunday morning, when they were dry, I took them out to get artsy photos of them for the blog and Ravelry.
I believe I succeeded in stirring up bees more than I succeeded as an artist, but I think I should get an A for effort.##
[SUMMARY: I did little, yet accomplished so much.]
I had already determined my final event in the Ravelympics would be the Sweater Sprint, because I wanted to knit a skull sweater for Tallest, Hairiest Nephew's birthday.
I found a skull chart on Flickr (the skull designer is on Ravelry under the same name)...
...and then I went to Barnes & Noble at lunch and found a series of kids' books called "Vampirates."
So THN is getting the books too and I'm modifying the skull to have fangs.%
I started the back of Vampirates and am saving the skull part for last, just to treat myself.
[SUMMARY: Old dog, new tricks.]
I fully embrace my dorkness in getting excited over something called Ravelympics.
Mostly, I embrace the fact that the threat of public humiliation in the face of failure of the stated objective is a powerful motivator for me. So I'm confident I'll finally finish the Lizard Ridge and have THN's birthday present done on time.
Know thyself.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): OK, I was going there anyway and she hadn't actually managed to get the email out to me before I showed up on her doorstep, thumping a vein and jonesing for yarn, but I'm going with "lured" anyway.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): See the label?
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Note the lifeline. I am smarter than I look. After three frog sessions, I'm smarter than I look.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): No longer dick warmers!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Technically, the It Happened One Night phase.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): New to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Being a competitor is really hard. You have to devote yourself to the competition. You can't be distracted by rock yarn.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Grandma's Blues, the 100m freestyle of my WIP events.
§§FOOTNOTE (flip turn): Lizard Ridge, the 800m IM of my WIP events.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two little Ravletes on the podium): I'm disciplined, not insane.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding to the finish line): Kinda like the Special Ravelympics.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I have it on good authority that I'm not just playing to my own inner eight-year-old boy. THN will be thrilled. Brother and eBeth both say so.
†††FOOTNOTE (gold, silver, bronze): Another one.
Out of this:
Which wasn't supposed to come in until the beginning of September, but my pusher, Sylvia, lured me to the House of Fuzzy Crack Friday to pick it up.†
This yarn is 30% rock.‡
When Sylia got the sample cards for this, it didn't matter how much yarn I already have. It didn't matter how many projects are already on my needles. I started thinking of knitting something out of rocks.
My geology-lovin' little heart grew three sizes that day.
And I liked the pattern when I saw it in the new Interweave Knits and was considering what to knit it of when the Yarn of Rocks came in.
So happens the pattern's even written for that EXACT GAUGE.
[SUMMARY: Fate.]
And before we get into things I'll be finishing, let's take a quick look at a couple of things I'm in the middle of. Like this:
That's the Malabrigo Lace Secret Pal sent for my birthday, and I finally found a project for it, the somewhat inelegantly-named "Scarf with French trellis border from Weldon's 1890 and bramble leaf center."
I'm calling it Purple Prose.^
Then there are Dad's Low Tide Socks, which now have heels§ and a little bit of leg.¶
I used a new heel method# that I really like: Short row, with no wrapping and turning and picking up wraps. Look how pretty it is:
But I'm not working on those projects for a little bit while I complete my Ravelympics events.††
Oh, look how much a knitblog this really is!
[SUMMARY: Just showing off.]
I completed one event in WIP Wrestling‡‡ mostly on Saturday,§§ and did fuck-all on my other WIP Wrestling event.¶¶
I wove in the ends on the Malabrigo slippers that are -- technically -- a Mother's Day present for my grandmother, and washed them and stuffed them with washcloths to block them into some form that didn't look like crumpled paper.
I then sat down to knit the acorn embellishment. I determined that said embellishment mostly resembled an oddly-coloured, hand-knit sperm, so I decided to leave the embellishment off.
Sunday morning, when they were dry, I took them out to get artsy photos of them for the blog and Ravelry.
I believe I succeeded in stirring up bees more than I succeeded as an artist, but I think I should get an A for effort.##
[SUMMARY: I did little, yet accomplished so much.]
I had already determined my final event in the Ravelympics would be the Sweater Sprint, because I wanted to knit a skull sweater for Tallest, Hairiest Nephew's birthday.
I found a skull chart on Flickr (the skull designer is on Ravelry under the same name)...
...and then I went to Barnes & Noble at lunch and found a series of kids' books called "Vampirates."
So THN is getting the books too and I'm modifying the skull to have fangs.%
I'm giving myself a little pat on the back††† for remembering how fun and quick the colourwork was on the Monkey Pack and how dreary the miles of solid stockinette was.
I started the back of Vampirates and am saving the skull part for last, just to treat myself.
[SUMMARY: Old dog, new tricks.]
I fully embrace my dorkness in getting excited over something called Ravelympics.
Mostly, I embrace the fact that the threat of public humiliation in the face of failure of the stated objective is a powerful motivator for me. So I'm confident I'll finally finish the Lizard Ridge and have THN's birthday present done on time.
Know thyself.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): OK, I was going there anyway and she hadn't actually managed to get the email out to me before I showed up on her doorstep, thumping a vein and jonesing for yarn, but I'm going with "lured" anyway.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): See the label?
^FOOTNOTE (careted): Note the lifeline. I am smarter than I look. After three frog sessions, I'm smarter than I look.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): No longer dick warmers!
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Technically, the It Happened One Night phase.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): New to me.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Being a competitor is really hard. You have to devote yourself to the competition. You can't be distracted by rock yarn.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Grandma's Blues, the 100m freestyle of my WIP events.
§§FOOTNOTE (flip turn): Lizard Ridge, the 800m IM of my WIP events.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two little Ravletes on the podium): I'm disciplined, not insane.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding to the finish line): Kinda like the Special Ravelympics.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): I have it on good authority that I'm not just playing to my own inner eight-year-old boy. THN will be thrilled. Brother and eBeth both say so.
†††FOOTNOTE (gold, silver, bronze): Another one.
Friday, August 8, 2008
It's Like This, Cat:
Bag Lady Kathryn wanted to have dinner at the Coral Room last night,† but she bolted before I was finished with my wine,‡ so I said I was going to hang around for a few minutes.
Then George§ and Candice came in with Dena and they invited me to come sit with them and I did and we got to talking and drinking and drinking and then they wanted to go down to High Pac and listen to some band from Alabama and did I want to come and I did and then it was 1:30 in the morning, so...
...it's 7:30 and I'm going to go knit in front of the Olympics for a brief spell and go to bed early.
Welcome to another scorching hot Friday night at Chez Barfly.
*************
Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
Marin says: I am in love with myself again.
Well, mostly I'm in love with my wrists.
The coffee smell is heavenly and somehow buttery. I feel like a Werther's candy.
As it spreads and mellows, I'm getting more old paper and wood. I can actually smell that slightly sweet, musty-woody scent of books yellowed with age.
The buttery note is fading into leather or floorwax or some other slightly oily, tangy scent. Oh, wait... definitely leather. Leather and old books with a cup of coffee with cream -- just gone cold¶ -- sitting nearby.
Oh! Wait! I got it! My dad has smoked a pipe for years. He has pipe tobacco that smells like this -- kinda woody and sweet. Gosh, I'm happy right now.
BPAL says: The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes# and polished oakwood halls.$
Hans says: "I can smell it from here.†† It smells like caramel."
[international Hans sign for "bring me your wrist."]
"Oh, yeah. Caramel to the max."‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I fully intend to blame this whole thing on Kathryn.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): She had to pack for an early morning flight -- it's not like she abandoned me, though in the spirit of "blaming this on Kathryn," I think it's downright saintly for me to admit this.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): George and I are going to open a brothel in Rifle, Colorado. We're going to make a billion dollars of the oil roughnecks, then I'm going to get indicted and write a sexy, scathing, tell-all book about my experience and retire to the House of Fuzzy Crack.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cold coffee smells different from hot coffee.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, I'd read this and remember the coffee and books part, so it's not like I was a genius about picking out notes.
$FOOTNOTE (right on the money): Ha! Got one! I didn't remember the part about the polished floors, but I did say "floorwax."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The doorway.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): On beyond "soap."
Then George§ and Candice came in with Dena and they invited me to come sit with them and I did and we got to talking and drinking and drinking and then they wanted to go down to High Pac and listen to some band from Alabama and did I want to come and I did and then it was 1:30 in the morning, so...
...it's 7:30 and I'm going to go knit in front of the Olympics for a brief spell and go to bed early.
Welcome to another scorching hot Friday night at Chez Barfly.
*************
Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
Marin says: I am in love with myself again.
Well, mostly I'm in love with my wrists.
The coffee smell is heavenly and somehow buttery. I feel like a Werther's candy.
As it spreads and mellows, I'm getting more old paper and wood. I can actually smell that slightly sweet, musty-woody scent of books yellowed with age.
The buttery note is fading into leather or floorwax or some other slightly oily, tangy scent. Oh, wait... definitely leather. Leather and old books with a cup of coffee with cream -- just gone cold¶ -- sitting nearby.
Oh! Wait! I got it! My dad has smoked a pipe for years. He has pipe tobacco that smells like this -- kinda woody and sweet. Gosh, I'm happy right now.
BPAL says: The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes# and polished oakwood halls.$
Hans says: "I can smell it from here.†† It smells like caramel."
[international Hans sign for "bring me your wrist."]
"Oh, yeah. Caramel to the max."‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I fully intend to blame this whole thing on Kathryn.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): She had to pack for an early morning flight -- it's not like she abandoned me, though in the spirit of "blaming this on Kathryn," I think it's downright saintly for me to admit this.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): George and I are going to open a brothel in Rifle, Colorado. We're going to make a billion dollars of the oil roughnecks, then I'm going to get indicted and write a sexy, scathing, tell-all book about my experience and retire to the House of Fuzzy Crack.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cold coffee smells different from hot coffee.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, I'd read this and remember the coffee and books part, so it's not like I was a genius about picking out notes.
$FOOTNOTE (right on the money): Ha! Got one! I didn't remember the part about the polished floors, but I did say "floorwax."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The doorway.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): On beyond "soap."
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Yes or No
I got this from my darling cousin Jacquelyn's blog, under the blogtitle "Simplemente Sí, o No."
I want to footnote the beejebus out of it.
I want to tell you stories.† I want to explain. I want to qualify.
In some cases, I want to defend myself.
But I feel the spirit of the thing is to leave some mystery. Yes or No. No stories.
[SUMMARY: I'm showing a lot of restraint and I intend to get credit for it.]
Taken a picture naked? Yes
Made money illegally? No
Had a one night stand? No
Been in a fist fight? Yes
Slept with your best friend? Yes
Had sex in a public place? No
Ditched work to have sex? No
Slept with a member of the same sex? Yes
Seen someone die? Yes
Ran from the police? No
Woke up somewhere and not remember how you got there? No
Worn your partner's unmentionables? No
Fallen asleep at work? Yes
Used toys in the bedroom? Yes
Ran a red light? Yes
Been fired? Yes
Been in a car accident? Yes
Pole danced or done a striptease? Yes
Loved someone you shouldn't? Yes
Sang karaoke? Yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes
Laughed so hard you peed your pants? No
Caught someone having sex? No
Kissed a perfect stranger? Yes
Shaved your partner? No
Given your private parts a nickname? Yes
Ever gone in public without underwear? Yes
Had sex on a roof top? No
Played chicken? No
Mooned/flashed someone? Yes
Do you sleep naked? Yes
Blacked out from drinking? No
Felt like killing someone? No
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? Yes
Been with someone because they were in a band? No
Taken 10 shots of liquor in a day? Yes
Shot a gun? No
Gone outside naked? Yes
*************
Parfum Sacre (edp) - Caron
Marin says: Honestly? The first impression was "Robitussin." Very heavy alcohol and deep, black almost cherry scent. After a few seconds, it smells mostly like amber and vanilla, but with a backdrop of black licorice or cocoa.‡
And Aqua Net.
It's highly evocative of Aqua Net, not just for the kinda sweet, kinda alcohol smell of it, but because I can almost taste it, just like when there's hairspray in the air.
Oh, It's definitely too sweet for my taste. In fact, I think it just went sugar cookie about two minutes ago (that's about 45 minutes into the roll-out, for those of you scoring at home.)
Epilogue: I tried like hell to wash this stuff off. Several times. If you liked this scent, it would be an excellent investment, since even soap and water can't erase it.
The Perfumed Court says: The notes are vanilla,$ myrrh, civet, cedarwood, lemon, pepper, mace,$ cardamom, orange blossom, rose, jasmine, and rosewood. This is a comfort scent. While not as rich as the extrait, it is a lovely woody, warm perfume.
Hans says: Smells like Bed, Bath & Beyond. Or the Body Shop. It's seriously soapy.§
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Of course, I've already told so many of these stories, I feel I pre-cheated the rules. I can't lie, it's a good feeling.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Before you laugh, light black licorice isn't too far off light strains of cocoa to my nose. Sure, if they were strong enough to be easily identifiable, I might not think they smelled so much alike. There's something astringent and sweet (but not sugary) about them both.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And may I say, "Holy shit!" When I was reading about mace on Wikipedia, thinking it may be that alcohol/astringent thing I'm getting, I scroll down to the "essential oils" section of the entry to find it's *used in cough syrup*. Damn, I'm good. Well, mostly kinda smart-ass, but if your ass is as smart as mine, it doesn't really matter if your head and your nose can get together on this stuff.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There's that boys and soap thing again. Man, I got no soap at all with this one. Maybe the astringent thing reads "soap" to Hans...
I want to footnote the beejebus out of it.
I want to tell you stories.† I want to explain. I want to qualify.
In some cases, I want to defend myself.
But I feel the spirit of the thing is to leave some mystery. Yes or No. No stories.
[SUMMARY: I'm showing a lot of restraint and I intend to get credit for it.]
Taken a picture naked? Yes
Made money illegally? No
Had a one night stand? No
Been in a fist fight? Yes
Slept with your best friend? Yes
Had sex in a public place? No
Ditched work to have sex? No
Slept with a member of the same sex? Yes
Seen someone die? Yes
Ran from the police? No
Woke up somewhere and not remember how you got there? No
Worn your partner's unmentionables? No
Fallen asleep at work? Yes
Used toys in the bedroom? Yes
Ran a red light? Yes
Been fired? Yes
Been in a car accident? Yes
Pole danced or done a striptease? Yes
Loved someone you shouldn't? Yes
Sang karaoke? Yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes
Laughed so hard you peed your pants? No
Caught someone having sex? No
Kissed a perfect stranger? Yes
Shaved your partner? No
Given your private parts a nickname? Yes
Ever gone in public without underwear? Yes
Had sex on a roof top? No
Played chicken? No
Mooned/flashed someone? Yes
Do you sleep naked? Yes
Blacked out from drinking? No
Felt like killing someone? No
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? Yes
Been with someone because they were in a band? No
Taken 10 shots of liquor in a day? Yes
Shot a gun? No
Gone outside naked? Yes
*************
Parfum Sacre (edp) - Caron
Marin says: Honestly? The first impression was "Robitussin." Very heavy alcohol and deep, black almost cherry scent. After a few seconds, it smells mostly like amber and vanilla, but with a backdrop of black licorice or cocoa.‡
And Aqua Net.
It's highly evocative of Aqua Net, not just for the kinda sweet, kinda alcohol smell of it, but because I can almost taste it, just like when there's hairspray in the air.
Oh, It's definitely too sweet for my taste. In fact, I think it just went sugar cookie about two minutes ago (that's about 45 minutes into the roll-out, for those of you scoring at home.)
Epilogue: I tried like hell to wash this stuff off. Several times. If you liked this scent, it would be an excellent investment, since even soap and water can't erase it.
The Perfumed Court says: The notes are vanilla,$ myrrh, civet, cedarwood, lemon, pepper, mace,$ cardamom, orange blossom, rose, jasmine, and rosewood. This is a comfort scent. While not as rich as the extrait, it is a lovely woody, warm perfume.
Hans says: Smells like Bed, Bath & Beyond. Or the Body Shop. It's seriously soapy.§
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Of course, I've already told so many of these stories, I feel I pre-cheated the rules. I can't lie, it's a good feeling.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Before you laugh, light black licorice isn't too far off light strains of cocoa to my nose. Sure, if they were strong enough to be easily identifiable, I might not think they smelled so much alike. There's something astringent and sweet (but not sugary) about them both.
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And may I say, "Holy shit!" When I was reading about mace on Wikipedia, thinking it may be that alcohol/astringent thing I'm getting, I scroll down to the "essential oils" section of the entry to find it's *used in cough syrup*. Damn, I'm good. Well, mostly kinda smart-ass, but if your ass is as smart as mine, it doesn't really matter if your head and your nose can get together on this stuff.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There's that boys and soap thing again. Man, I got no soap at all with this one. Maybe the astringent thing reads "soap" to Hans...
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Monkey Business
I am not likely to ever get political here. I have my politics. You probably wouldn't like them.† I don't care enough about either your politics or mine to make politics a rift between us.
So this isn't political, so much as news stuff.‡ I just want y'all to keep that in mind. Don't assume that my using "shit" and "Democrat" in the same blogbit has anything to do with anything.
As some of you may be aware, the Democratic National Convention will be in Denver shortly.
[SUMMARY: Urgh.]
Civic Center Park will be an even scarier place than it already is.
Our office building will be locked, accessible only via key card all day, every day. Many companies have installed serious security systems in preparation for the onslaught of wound up, emotionally- and politically-charged people.%
Local businesses near the Convention ground zero have been notified they may be shut down, locked down or otherwise screwed with if security becomes an issue.
Denver Water puttered through downtown a couple of weeks ago and put locking caps on the fire hydrants.§
And the City Council passed an ordinance yesterday calling bodily fluids illegal.
OK, it's both broader¶ and more specific# than that, but it's funnier and more shocking the way I say it.
[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny. And sometimes shocking.]
So the radical fringe is officially banned from maintaining feces bombs in Denver.^
While this is oh-so-comforting, I'm torn between renting my house out for $1200 a night during this ordeal to get *something* out of it, and just battening down the hatches and skipping town.
*************
Hermès - Un Jardin sur le Nil (Hermèssence)
Marin says: Started with a bitter green scent, like when you break some thick grasses and they have sap rather than just juice... reminiscent of the smell of multi-vitamins. It was so light that even though I didn't particularly like it, I was OK with it.
Then the roll-out started.
Oh, my gosh, this is a gorgeous perfume.
It's lightly floral†† (water lily? lotus?) tempered by a dry wood,‡‡ but the greenish scent lingered behind that. For a half-hour or so, it was like lemon verbena, with a hint of bitter and wood. Then it turned woody-grassy, but the floral lingered behind that. I've honestly never experienced a real "roll out" like that before in a perfume. I'm astonished and delighted.§§
Hermes says: A perfume of light and life, generous and sparkling. A bottle reflecting the shimmering green and ochre tints of the banks of the Nile River appreciated by women and men alike.
The Perfumed Court says: A fruity floral scent with notes of green mango,¶¶ lotus flower,$ aromatic rushes,$ incense## and Sycamore wood.$
Hans says: It smells like lemon!
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't paint us all with the same brush. It's funny to me that so many so-called liberals are so narrow-minded when it comes to Republicans, while Republicans -- long thought to be the narrow-minded ones -- are well aware that there are degrees and flavours of Democrats. Though one of the funniest politicist (is that the political version of racist?) remarks ever came from The Boy, back when we were actually dating instead of just fucking through the drunken nights of everybody else's celebrations*:
"So the president gave a speech last night."
"So I hear."
"You didn't watch?"
"Nope. I try to avoid Bush where I can."
"Huh. I thought you'd invite your Republican friends over and pop popcorn or something."
*FOOTNOTE WITHIN A FOOTNOTE (asterisked, as always): Wasn't that evocative? How come I can evoke about sweaty, ill-advised, illicit sex but I can't communicate what the hell water frickin' lily smells like to me?
Reminds me of the trophy for getting the lowest possible score in the bowling tournament (I threw a 67. Over two games. I'm a *terrible* bowler), which was inscribed, "Stick with what you know."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Y'all know how I love to keep you informed.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): 'Specially oil companies, with their double-whammy of highly sensitive, proprietary information and their current target-worthy social position as Evil Overlords.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Five years of drought and never locking down the hydrants until the wingnuts come to town.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In that it also encompasses cement, barricades, Super-Soakers filled with Kool-Aid and anything that can be used as an assault mechanism or barrier.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): You may think that goes without saying, but there was a news story a couple of weeks ago wherein police were tipped off to a home in Denver that was the site for the stockpiling of human waste for use at the Convention.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): In that it specifies possession with the intent to harm or hinder. Funny note: Denver police have to prove whatever material was intended for sinister use in order to enforce the ordinance. If you have a bucket of human waste in a political crowd, what other use would there be?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Water lily? Lotus? Sheesh, I wish I knew what those actually smelled like rather than just guessing at what I think of as water lily or lotus.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Y'know -- not sweet, heavy or wet like some woods... more like the woodpile out back than the depths of the rainforest. And not as distinctive as cedar.
§§FOOTNOTE (round and round and round she goes): For the record, this is one of the two perfumes that is the subject of the book I got from eBeth for my birthday (The Perfect Scent, by Chandler Burr.)
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stoppers!): They talked about this a LOT in the book. It may be that bitter smell I got to begin with. Then again, it could be the lemony smell. I don't know what a grove of green mangoes smells like. Is there an "E" in mangos?
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And, yes, I'm counting aromatic rushes as sappy grass, taking full credit for blundering into lotus and surely sycamore is a perfectly adequate dry wood... even though I have no idea what a sycamore smells like. Or even looks like. I don't think we have sycamores in Colorado.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding like a perfume headache): Huh. *Never* got that. And I thought I was all sensitive to incense.
NOTE: In case you didn't get it, I'm really not against the Democrats as a group.
I'm against large, life-changing groups of people overrunning my world and I'm whole-heartedly against wing-nut protestors and feces-flingers, who will be out en masse at the convention. Normal, everyday Democrats are OK by me.
Some of my best friends are normal, everyday Democrats.
Please don't go all politco-guerrilla on me.
And I don't have to explain the title, right? Y'all get the clever reference?
kthx
So this isn't political, so much as news stuff.‡ I just want y'all to keep that in mind. Don't assume that my using "shit" and "Democrat" in the same blogbit has anything to do with anything.
As some of you may be aware, the Democratic National Convention will be in Denver shortly.
[SUMMARY: Urgh.]
Civic Center Park will be an even scarier place than it already is.
Our office building will be locked, accessible only via key card all day, every day. Many companies have installed serious security systems in preparation for the onslaught of wound up, emotionally- and politically-charged people.%
Local businesses near the Convention ground zero have been notified they may be shut down, locked down or otherwise screwed with if security becomes an issue.
Denver Water puttered through downtown a couple of weeks ago and put locking caps on the fire hydrants.§
And the City Council passed an ordinance yesterday calling bodily fluids illegal.
OK, it's both broader¶ and more specific# than that, but it's funnier and more shocking the way I say it.
[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny. And sometimes shocking.]
So the radical fringe is officially banned from maintaining feces bombs in Denver.^
While this is oh-so-comforting, I'm torn between renting my house out for $1200 a night during this ordeal to get *something* out of it, and just battening down the hatches and skipping town.
*************
Hermès - Un Jardin sur le Nil (Hermèssence)
Marin says: Started with a bitter green scent, like when you break some thick grasses and they have sap rather than just juice... reminiscent of the smell of multi-vitamins. It was so light that even though I didn't particularly like it, I was OK with it.
Then the roll-out started.
Oh, my gosh, this is a gorgeous perfume.
It's lightly floral†† (water lily? lotus?) tempered by a dry wood,‡‡ but the greenish scent lingered behind that. For a half-hour or so, it was like lemon verbena, with a hint of bitter and wood. Then it turned woody-grassy, but the floral lingered behind that. I've honestly never experienced a real "roll out" like that before in a perfume. I'm astonished and delighted.§§
Hermes says: A perfume of light and life, generous and sparkling. A bottle reflecting the shimmering green and ochre tints of the banks of the Nile River appreciated by women and men alike.
The Perfumed Court says: A fruity floral scent with notes of green mango,¶¶ lotus flower,$ aromatic rushes,$ incense## and Sycamore wood.$
Hans says: It smells like lemon!
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't paint us all with the same brush. It's funny to me that so many so-called liberals are so narrow-minded when it comes to Republicans, while Republicans -- long thought to be the narrow-minded ones -- are well aware that there are degrees and flavours of Democrats. Though one of the funniest politicist (is that the political version of racist?) remarks ever came from The Boy, back when we were actually dating instead of just fucking through the drunken nights of everybody else's celebrations*:
"So the president gave a speech last night."
"So I hear."
"You didn't watch?"
"Nope. I try to avoid Bush where I can."
"Huh. I thought you'd invite your Republican friends over and pop popcorn or something."
*FOOTNOTE WITHIN A FOOTNOTE (asterisked, as always): Wasn't that evocative? How come I can evoke about sweaty, ill-advised, illicit sex but I can't communicate what the hell water frickin' lily smells like to me?
Reminds me of the trophy for getting the lowest possible score in the bowling tournament (I threw a 67. Over two games. I'm a *terrible* bowler), which was inscribed, "Stick with what you know."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Y'all know how I love to keep you informed.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): 'Specially oil companies, with their double-whammy of highly sensitive, proprietary information and their current target-worthy social position as Evil Overlords.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Five years of drought and never locking down the hydrants until the wingnuts come to town.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In that it also encompasses cement, barricades, Super-Soakers filled with Kool-Aid and anything that can be used as an assault mechanism or barrier.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): You may think that goes without saying, but there was a news story a couple of weeks ago wherein police were tipped off to a home in Denver that was the site for the stockpiling of human waste for use at the Convention.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): In that it specifies possession with the intent to harm or hinder. Funny note: Denver police have to prove whatever material was intended for sinister use in order to enforce the ordinance. If you have a bucket of human waste in a political crowd, what other use would there be?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Water lily? Lotus? Sheesh, I wish I knew what those actually smelled like rather than just guessing at what I think of as water lily or lotus.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Y'know -- not sweet, heavy or wet like some woods... more like the woodpile out back than the depths of the rainforest. And not as distinctive as cedar.
§§FOOTNOTE (round and round and round she goes): For the record, this is one of the two perfumes that is the subject of the book I got from eBeth for my birthday (The Perfect Scent, by Chandler Burr.)
¶¶FOOTNOTE (stoppers!): They talked about this a LOT in the book. It may be that bitter smell I got to begin with. Then again, it could be the lemony smell. I don't know what a grove of green mangoes smells like. Is there an "E" in mangos?
$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And, yes, I'm counting aromatic rushes as sappy grass, taking full credit for blundering into lotus and surely sycamore is a perfectly adequate dry wood... even though I have no idea what a sycamore smells like. Or even looks like. I don't think we have sycamores in Colorado.
##FOOTNOTE (pounding like a perfume headache): Huh. *Never* got that. And I thought I was all sensitive to incense.
NOTE: In case you didn't get it, I'm really not against the Democrats as a group.
I'm against large, life-changing groups of people overrunning my world and I'm whole-heartedly against wing-nut protestors and feces-flingers, who will be out en masse at the convention. Normal, everyday Democrats are OK by me.
Some of my best friends are normal, everyday Democrats.
Please don't go all politco-guerrilla on me.
And I don't have to explain the title, right? Y'all get the clever reference?
kthx
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