Things I like:

22 11 2010

Someday someone is going to want to know things like this about me. I’m saving us all lots of time here, so appreciate it.

The three movies I can hardly wait for this Christmas season are: Tangled, Tron:Legacy and Dawn Treader. Tangled because Zachary Levi is voice talent and I have a major celebrity crush on Zach Levi. (Don’t worry, the crush is alleviated by the fact that his given last name is “Pugh”.) Tron: Legacy because it looks like the best kinds of awesome. Dawn Treader is obvious, I hope. Throw in the facts that it’s my favorite of the books and Ben Barnes has facial hair and… bliss!

Other random factoids that might end up being of interest, in no particular order and with no guarantee of actual importance.

I like traveling a lot but I hate the whole concept of coach air travel. I always feel like I’m in training to be a sardine.

I’d prefer to be called Miss Smith by acquaintances. It never happens but it makes me feel so respected.

Though I can live without them, I like really nice things. Actual nice things not just stuff that’s expensive.

My sister is one of my favorite people on earth.

Christmas trees and Christmas lights make me SO happy. Caroling makes me happier.

I’m quite content to sit for hours unto days just watching movies with friends.

I’m miserable if I think the people around me aren’t having fun, though I’m trying to get healed of it.

Don’t make me watch the Simpsons or Family Guy. I will resent you forever.

Libraries are necessary to life.

Ok. It’s a “fluffy” post but the point is I wrote something. Be proud.

 

 

Advertisements




Short Story Saturday

21 11 2010

I found a random website that gives you an opening sentence for a short story and you go from there. So here we go!

Their ability to abscond was severely hampered by Gerald’s insistence that they bring the goldfish.

Harold sighed heavily, tainting the air with a fetid mixture of stale coffee, garlic and cheap cigar smoke. He’d tried to talk Gerald out of bringing Sally along, but Gerald had insisted. Gerald was a little dim, but his massive muscles and thick brain had proved to be an asset more than once so Harold gave him his way. Well, that and Gerald would probably have put a meaty fist through Harold’s remaining teeth if Sally were left behind.

Being the brains of the operation was a heavy burden, Harold reflected and he searched his pockets for his lock pick.

The rain pounded down inches from the two men who sheltered in a doorway. A surging river composed of equal parts water, garbage and mud surged down the street past their feet. Gerald moved uneasily, pulling his shiny shoes farther away from the water.

He would never admit it but Gerald labored under a petrifying fear that Sally would run away given half a chance.

Even half a chance wouldn’t be enough since Sally was just a goldfish and a rather stupid specimen of a stupid species. Besides which fact, she was sealed tightly in a mason jar zipped into Gerald’s inside pocket.

But Gerald was not really aware of Sally’s limited chance of escape. He only remembered a childhood hamster who, his mother told him, had run away one summer day. He’d never noticed the tiny mound of dirt in his mother’s flower bed and would not have drawn a connection between the two things if he had noticed it.

Harold cursed as the lock pick fell, slipping through his wet fingers. He reached down to grab it just as Gerald shifted his feet again, kicking the lock pick into the nearby gutter.

“Gerald! You ox-brained-son-of-a-camel-driver’s-aunt! Look what you did!” Harold sputtered in frustration.

“Wha?” Gerald put a hand around Sally’s jar and leaned over, staring dimly at the dark and shiny pavement. “What’d I do, Harold? What’d I do?”

“Only ruined our whole plan, that’s what! You freeze-dried-nincompoop!” Harold shoved ineffectually at his partner.

Gerald didn’t notice the shove. No more than a mountain notices a cloud passing by, anyway. “I’m sorry, Harold! What’ll we do?”

Harold grabbed his beardless chin and thought hard. They were running out of time. If they didn’t get the job done tonight all the goods would be moved before they could get back. Like a lightning flash it came to him.

“Gerald!”

“Yeah Harold. I’m right here.”

“Break down the door!”

“Ok, Harold.” Gerald moved backwards slowly until he felt cold water running into his boots. With a yelp he leaped forward and landed right back near the door. Water meant an escape route for Sally….

“What’s wrong?” Harold grabbed the bigger man’s collar and shook it.

“Harold I can’t! I’ve got Sally and if I run into the door her jar’d break and then she’d swim away in all this water.” Gerald’s beefy face crumpled in despair. “I just can’t let her swim away!”

“Oh you three-toed-excuse-for-a-guttersnipe, just hand me her jar and I’ll hold it while you break the door down.”

Between baritone hiccuping sobs Gerald moaned, “I dunno Harold. You’re always breaking things and dropping things and who knows what might happen? You dropped the lock pick and you might drop Sally.”

“I promise I will not drop her,” Harold’s voice was getting desperate. Their time was running out and a cop on beat could come by any minute. “Just give her to me. Now!”

Gerald looked miserable but obeyed. He unzipped his pocket, pulled out the jar and handed it to Harold with careful hands.

Harold gripped the jar and stepped out of the way. Unfortunately he stepped out of the way onto a garbage can lid which slid and dropped him on his rear with a thump and a crinkle of broken glass.

Harold screamed, to be sure, but his partner screamed louder.

In a blinding flurry of water, clothing and garbage the two men fought, Gerald screaming “YOU KILLED SALLY!” at the top of his lungs.

A beat cop heard the ruckus (as did everyone else on the block) and came running. After three of his buddies showed up to force Gerald’s hands away from Harold’s neck they¬†arrested the two men and dragged them off to the local jailhouse.

No-one noticed a jar in which swam a goldfish, surrounded as it was by the remnants of a broken beer bottle.





Danny Kaye is my Hero

20 11 2010

One of my favorite actors of all time is undoubtedly Danny Kaye. His rare combination of humor, “flexi-face”, singing ability, and flat-out talent have me mesmerized whenever he is on screen. Tonight was a great night in that I got to watch “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” with some dear friends. I laughed out loud and exclaimed more than once from pure enjoyment. If you are having a bad day or terrible weather or your house has just fallen into a sink hole I recommend the incomparable Danny Kaye as an instant mood-lifter.

Thankfully my house has NOT fallen into a sink hole. I’ve just now got my room and art studio arranged the way I want them! I’d hate to lose the operation into a muddy hole. Just ask Mike Bickle- it’s a bummer. (Jennifer/Aaron: It WAS MB whose car fell into the sink hole, right?)

In other news, I begin to seriously contemplate The Watching of The Lord of the Rings. It is a dread undertaking that I cannot attempt more than once every several years, and never when I am emotionally fragile. For me, watching these movies is akin to a sort of exquisite torture. (No, I cannot possibly make you understand why so don’t ask.) Ok fine…. I’ll try. Just imagine the realization of all of your dreams, combined with beauty that hurts you with some prophetic meaning swirled in too. Then slam it all into twelve hours, add some snacks and you have a weekend that I look forward to with equal parts excitement and dread.

It’s important, is my point.

And, with the Heron Creek Project shaping up well, and the bad weather setting in, it’s a good time to begin again the trip to Mt. Doom.

You all know I’m a mega-nerd, right? The only thing left to complete my journey into Uber-nerd is gaming. Thus far I am not a gamer. My non-gaming is intentional; I have a vaguely addictive personality. ūüôā

Continuing to speak life over myself. There is nothing wrong with my Vagas nerve! Sometimes I get anxious feeling but I’m recognizing it now and am on the watch for triggers.

Also, today I hulled a pomegranate and bought coconut water. The pom was good, I’m still on the fence about the coconut water.





Cutco, Cats, Cayenne

18 11 2010

I’m sitting in our kitchen listening to a very nice young man describing the dozens of different kinds of Cutco knives. We have a glorious set of Cutco already but after listening to this guy I want three of everything. It’s great to hear a college guy using the ¬†word “mincing” so often.

There’s been some interesting stuff going on here and I am apologizing now for not having kept up with this blog. I think blogging will have to go on my “to-do” daily list along with going to the gym and “beholding”. ¬†I mean, what’s the point of having a blog if you never use it? And it’s not like I don’t have thoughts to share!

Whatever.

I only have a couple of minutes here… Let me tell you about how difficult it is to make a bed while there is a cat ON the bed. First I will explain the strata (geology reference!) of my bed. The mattress, a feather bed, a protective sheet, flannel bottom sheet, flannel top sheet, giant cozy blanket folded in half, feather comforter, sheet to protect feather comforter from cat hair. Imagine all those layers….

So I start making the bed. The cat is sitting dead center on the feather bed giving me the stink-eye. She knows I want to get my sheets and blankets off of the floor and back onto the bed. I start putting on the bottom sheet(s) and every time I wrestle the mattress away from the wall and get a corner hooked I have to pick the cat up, hook the other corner and drop the cat back onto the bed. The idea of throwing the cat OUT of the room never occurred to me. Don’t judge. When we get to the blankets it gets really interesting. At this point she gets the idea that it’s a game and begins to run back and forth UNDER the blankets. Do you know how difficult it is to get hospital corners done correctly while your bed is pitching around like something from The Exorcist?!

I got it done eventually. When the blankets got so heavy that she was getting squished she gave up and ran away. Of course, she came back and took a nap as soon as I was done. Ce la vie.

Incidentally, this post has nothing to do with Cayenne.