Archive for November, 2010

the adorable

November 29, 2010

1.  We were talking about Halloween and picking pumpkins and then Henry says, “You share them with people you love.”

2.  Henry pronounces pumpkins as “pumpmins.”  It is so frickin’ adorable.  I don’t want to correct it.  W tried (although I was against it), with this result:  Henry yelling, “PumpMINS!  PUMPMINS!”  Heehee.

3.  J was looking at a picture of a spoon in a book – and then she pushed her face against the page to try to eat from it.  She licked it a couple times to make sure it wasn’t real.

4.  Now, J likes book of various animals.  Each page has a picture of an animal and then the sound it makes, so for example, there’s picture of a dog and “bow wow” is printed next to it.  She does a lot of the sounds now.  W does this sort of thing for a party trick – we went to the Fire Museum of NYC and there were some model horses, and when these were pointed out to her, J said, “Neigh.”  The funniest thing to me is how satisfied and happy she seemed to make the noise.  Babies can be fun!  (besides the pooping erratically and crying and constant attendance.)

5.  Henry has a habit of minding other people’s business (and I’m sorry about it – it’s a genetic failing.  Nobody in my family is capable keeping to ourselves.  As a side note, because of this, at school, Henry is constantly reminded to “Worry about yourself.”  So when he’s on the verge of being scolded for bossing around J, he’ll say, “I’m worrying about myself.”).

5a.  Anyway, so when he’s out and about he might notice some kid on a skateboard without a helmet and start crying out, “It’s not safe!  Not safe!”  and then proceed to describe, at top volume, exactly why that kid is not safe.  But on the flip side, he’s very interested in being safe.   So he’s pretty conscientious about keeping his seat belt on, or putting on his biking helmet, and doesn’t complain about it, which is nice.

6.  A couple of months ago, Henry started a new phase of interest about safety and the human body.  So, following this, he was concerned about medicine.  And when he hurt himself (a bump that led to a bruise), Henry was very distinct about how he wouldn’t be bleeding, and definitely not bleeding body blood.

More stuff, estate sale carryover

November 24, 2010

I went to an estate sale today. Everything in the house was on sale – cupboards, shelves, books, furniture, down to the last tealight and cookie cutter. (Yes, I mean in the house.) I walked through it all, and it made me sort of sad. First, I didn’t want any of the stuff, not really – but there was a shitload of it – tons of blankets and bedding and tableware. Then I was torn between gawking at and hiding my eyes from the obvious invalid stuff – the bathing chair, the insulin-reading equipment (a variety thereof), little garden cart with a seat.

I didn’t know this woman (I could tell because of the one matronly party dress displayed against the closet door).  There was so much stuff – it was amazing.  None of it stunning.  Some of it was funny (the lime-green horsehair wraparound seating directly from the 1960’s, which by the way, had an enormous SOLD sign on it).  Most of it was mundane (books, clothes, dishes – but a lot of it – as W says, a lifetime’s worth in what was a pretty small house).  The women who were handling the sale seemed really matter of fact about the whole thing.  There was a surprising (to me, anyway) number of people at the sale.  I’d never been to one before – but I wonder how many of those people knew this lady.

I was feeling a bit maudlin about it – a tiny tiny bit.  Enough to have started this post.  My feelings on it boiled down to the idea of when we die, other people will have to deal with all of our stuff – the big and the small and I didn’t really want to burden the people I love with it, although that can’t be helped.

Then I came across a reminder to contact my local La Leche Lady (who is awesome) because I wanted to unload some of my old, gently used baby stuff.  I had doubts about some items (wasn’t ready to let go for a variety of reasons) and W told her that if she was collecting next year, we might let them go then.  She told him the stuff we were getting rid of was great, and whenever we were ready, she would be ready.  She was in contact with a number of needy families in the area.  I had assumed she might deliver this stuff to some shelters or something – and her telling me this made me feel good about giving this stuff away (and glad it was gone) and sad that someone really did need it.

Not certain where I’m going with this – except thinking that it’s all a cycle.  Death, birth, stuff.

Maybe it’s that all of these things, what I bought, what the estate lady first purchased – all of these things were intended for a purpose, a certain life, if you will.  These things outlived that purpose.  So, they were repurposed, for other people, other lives.  I want to believe these items will find use, and make other people’s lives a touch easier or happier.  I want to believe that this redistribution of things is, in a way, a redistribution of love and hope.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Presentation expectation

November 23, 2010

I’m an adult, okay?  Really.  So why the hell do I feel like I have to get a haircut when I’m about to visit my parents house?  Ugh.  I’m trying to make an appointment (phone’s busy) at my local cuttery and it’s a pain.

Part of it is marrying a guy who only cuts his hair on two occasions – important social events (seeing his parents, seeing my parents, weddings and funerals), and important work events (conferences, big meetings).  Since he almost ways takes Henry to get his hair cut, I suppose Henry is also getting this imprinting.

I just want to be oblivious, show up at my mom’s house, have her harass me about the haircut and be done with it.  If she’s busy harassing me about the haircut, then maybe she’ll let some other thing slide.  There’s always hoping, right?

I like having short hair – I hate getting my hair cut.  It’s easy having short hair.  Keeping up the maintenance on a short cut, not so easy.  If there was some contraption that allowed me to stick my head in the sink/vacuum/lamp/appliance and get on with my day and not deal with the appointment, interrupting my day, and talking to the stylist about what I want, I’d totally do it.  Maybe I should make a visit to the men’s barbershop – something for fast and cheap would be my style today.  I don’t even care what it looks like, much.  I always hate it anyway, for the first week or so.

Man.  It’s a hassle.  (I know there used to be a real Suck’n’Cut – the Flowbee – and I actually knew somebody who owned one.  He bought it, loved it, wanted to buy accessories, and found out the company went out of business.  He was still using it though, years later.  I am so jealous of this guy now, you won’t believe.)

pain in the neck

November 20, 2010

Yes. That’s right. I have one. It’s actually extending through my shoulders and upper back. It’s from sleeping wrong, I think. I lifted a couple of heavy things yesterday, but nothing unusually heavy. (And by heavy, I mean heavy to me. It’s not like I picked up a small car by myself or anything like that.) I’ll admit it – it was a couple of boxes of books.  The only thing I think I’m good for today is staying inside and lying down, or staring at a computer screen and occasionally pecking away at a computer screen.  The things I shouldn’t be doing today are driving, leaving the house, or doing anything that requires me to be aware of my surroundings, because it hurts so much to turn my head from side to side.

Anyway, I think this is all part and parcel of getting older – which sort of sucks. As an insult to my injury – I see a podiatrist now. Because my feet hurt – he called it dancer’s foot, but, geez.   I’m not a dancer.  He also called it runner’s foot.  Negatory, Doc.  You’re not looking at a runner, here.  He made me tell him the story of how I hurt it over and over – I think it’s because he doesn’t believe it.  It’s so stupid, I don’t believe it either.  I was just walking down the stairs and then I think “ow!  My foot hurts.”  That it.

And the podiatrist’s waiting room is the worst place in the world for feeling young and spry.  The next youngest person there was an elderly lady with a walker and her sister.  I could feel age creeping up on me in that waiting room – because that is my cohort of people with foot pain.

Just getting old.  Sigh.  Off to do the other thing that’s possible in my condition and lie down.

something strange in the neighborhood

November 17, 2010

Something’s going on around here, and I can’t figure it out.  I just got blocked from my Facebook account – because apparently, a fake name is bad to use.  But the thing is, I used my real name – one that isn’t super common here in the US.  So, I sent them some ID to appeal and get my account back, because the only way to prove you’re real is to do that.  I like my account – it’s nice to keep up with people.

So here’s the thing, I got an email denying me return to my FB account without any further appeal available, and yet I’m now able to log in.   I have a couple of group pages that I quickly turned over to some friends/co-workers – you know, just in case.  But I have no idea how I was able to do that, why I’m starting to get notifications from my FB page again, or if I’m able to view/receive messages via FB.   What the heck is going on?

If I’ve been the sucker for some ID scam, it surely is very complicated and very well done – I mean, it’s all through FB’s interface.  Something new to worry about it.

EDITED 11/19.  I got an email from Facebook saying my access has been restored.  Not certain what was happening there, but am unwilling to look it in the mouth.  Still a little concerned about the ID scam concept, though.

Two things

November 11, 2010

It’s Veteran’s Day, and so my hat’s off to everyone who has sacrificed for our country.

In lighter features, it’s Pepero Day in Korean circles (or Pocky Day for those more familiar with that product). It’s basically a made-up day where people exchange Pepero (long, skinny cookie sticks dipped in chocolate) – the day came about presumably because 4 sticks of Pepero look like 11/11.  (In my literal mind, I think 5 sticks works better, because then you’ve got the slash, but I’m simple like that.)

I don’t know about you – but no matter how one could slice those 4 sticks – it still sounds like a terribly cheap (terrible and really cheap) date – you’d think if it were really made-up, they’d do something a little more extravagant-sounding.  (The alternative that I read about in Wikipedia, the exchange of tteok (rice cake which I guess would be shaped like Pepero), just sounds so wrong.)

That kid, over there

November 11, 2010

I was thinking about boy bands recently.  Two things – the big guy, and the military.  You might think these are two wildly disparate posts – watch as I make them one (waves arms around like a bad illusionist).

I wonder, what goes into the manufacture of some of these groups.  There’s talent, personality, and then there’s what I call individuality.  Really, that’s how others individuate this member from that member – so obvious physical differences are probably ideal, which is a little harder in countries with a large majority ethnic type – but the ‘fat one’ is always a choice.  Also, I’m also wondering if  the inclusion of a larger-figured member is designed to appeal to a less-publicized taste.

Yes, I’m talking about people who like the fuller bodies.  If one were gay and speaking of men, I would say something about people who like “bears.”  I think there’s less of a stigma in the gay community about that preference – I don’t know if that’s because there’s so much communication about preferences to begin with.  Anyway, I’ve just heard more gays talking about their love of the bears than other people.

Girls who love big guys (I see you,  Chouji fan-girls, John Goodman-girls,  and so on) probably don’t advertise their love of the big guy.  They’ll defend, but I don’t see many super vocal ones.

Here’s the thing about Korean boy bands in particular.  South Korea has mandatory  conscription for males between the ages of 18-35 – which basically cuts directly in the young adult life of half the population.  W and I were talking about this, and how this could potentially kill a boy band.  He seemed to think this was okay (not being fond of boy bands) and said, “they leave as boys, and come back as men.”  But I’m not certain their fans want a man band.

And if said boy band member started off as the “fat one” and then, by dint of military, became less so and then a man – would the fangirls still be interested, even if their attention wouldn’t have naturally changed over time anyway?  I’m not sure.  Maybe I just think the public is fickle.

Training montages

November 7, 2010

Dear Lord, I love a training montage.  My favorite is from Kill Bill 2 – where she learns how to break wood with her fingers – and there’s an immediate and straightforward payoff – if anything in that movie’s tortuous construction could be considered immediate and straightforward.

I wish I could do the writing equivalent of the training montage – but that would be hard to do – because it is so densely visual.  It’s not like there is a ton of dialogue.  This is where I think movies have it all over books.  Must consider this.

I’m fine, how’re you?

November 5, 2010

Today, fanfic cost me money.  They (the librarians in the guise of “the man”) caught up with me.   I had to pay library overdue fines for some things I’d been holding on to, for too long.   Sigh.  I know it’s all my fault, but still.  20¢ a day for 5 books is pretty steep.

In other penalty news – my traffic ticket trauma is over.  I attended court a couple of times, corresponded with the ADA, paid a $20 fine and an $85 court fee (cash only), and got 2 points on my license instead of the potential 3-4.

The judge did make sure to tell me that I could go to trial, but I didn’t want to go to court again – it’s just such a hassle.  (I know I’ll pay for it in increased insurance costs, but believe me, you’d pay almost anything not to have to go to court again either.)  Besides, of the cop shows up, I’d get stuck with the whole thing, so eh.  I’m taking the deal and running with it.  Then, trying to be nice, the judge asked me what school I was going to.  School?!  I’m heading into my forties -!  But still, he was trying, so I just told him I was working.

And the stories from my sitting around in court – goodness!  Where I was, there was no separate traffic court.   I went where everybody goes.   There was the guy who called the public defender the “public pretender,” the waiting-room faux-lawyers who discussed the potential outcomes of various drug charges (alleged), the guy wearing the green, red and white “Lucky Irish” flannel pajama pants who probably wasn’t all that lucky because dude, he was in court with me, the girl who cried calling her momma because she couldn’t make bail because she didn’t have money and then tried to get her momma to call out of her BlackBerry.  I just have this one piece of advice – dress reasonably – and it seemed like the judge treated that as a sign of seriousness – unlike “Lucky Irish.”