A book I can’t recommend and a cheesecake I can

I finally finished The Impossible Bird a couple of days ago.  What a weird-ass book.  I can’t even describe it.  There are these two guys, brothers, who are dead (the book says so in the beginning), but they’re still acting like they’re alive, and there’s something to do with aliens that are hummingbirds, or they’re using the hummingbirds, and they (the brothers) have to kill each other, but they’re already dead, and they have to come to terms with…something…it was seriously weird, and I don’t really know what it was about.  But it’s over, and I moved on to the next book in the Dresden Files series.

I had this delicious shrimp etouffee at Copeland’s of New Orleans for dinner tonight.  And then, because I couldn’t resist, I got the cheesecake napoleon (cheesecake with layers of pudding cake on either side) with bananas foster as a topping to go.  It looks and smells like the best thing ever, but I haven’t tried it yet.  Typing is keeping me away from it and I’m starting to think that’s not the best arrangement.  Which means typing will have to go.  It’s calling my name!

Updated: Who cares about cheesecake?  Not me.  It’s the pudding cake drenched in whatever bananas foster is made of that I can’t get enough of.  SO good.  And SO not good for me.

@#!%$*&%! bugs

I don’t like bugs.  I can deal with a few kinds, the harmless ones, like lightning bugs, ladybugs, ants (NOT the flying ones), bees, roly-polies, beetles, etc., but there are some others that freak me the hell out.  Take this morning, for instance.  I got up at 5:30 and headed for the bathroom.  While I was in there, I saw something scurry towards my feet.  It was over an inch long and moving pretty quickly, and while I wasn’t happy to see it, I assumed it was a cockroach.  Gross and disturbing, yes, but still harmless.  I didn’t have my contacts in yet, so I leaned down, just a little, to see what it was, and I saw legs.  Lots and lots of legs.  I jumped back a little.  Centipedes are HIGH on my list of bugs that scare me.  Cockroaches – not scary.  So I backed off and watched the damn thing scuttle off into the corner behind the toilet and climb up the wall.  And by “watched”, I mean “stared”.  I didn’t take my eyes off it.  It climbed to the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling, and then it sort of turned, and then?  It fell.  Off the wall.  And it fell fast.  (Yeah, I know, gravity.  Shut up.)  Maybe it jumped.  Either way, the speed with which it got a whole lot closer to me freaked me the hell out and I RAN out of the bathroom and vaulted onto the bed.  So I’m standing in the middle of this king-size bed, breathing hard, watching the doorway of the bathroom like a hawk and what do I see?  That’s right, the *&#^%# centipede came after me!  Well, it left the bathroom and went behind the door to the living area.  And that’s the last place I saw it.  IN MY BEDROOM, between the door and the wall.  It took a lot of convincing to get myself back into the bathroom to take a shower this morning, and I had to put my contacts so I could keep watch for it more effectively.  You know, actually be able to see if something’s coming after me.  What if there are more?  I don’t know how I’m going to manage to sleep tonight.  Atlanta, you just lost points with me.  Irrational?  Maybe.  So what?

Good episode

I just watched the “Brown Betty” episode of Fringe.  There was a detective story (noir, but with a few touches of futuristic technology – cool combination), singing, and Peter and Olivia almost/kinda falling in love, all in the guise of a story told to a little girl…I think I really like Joshua Jackson.

John stayed home with Roxy today.  No seizures.  She napped the day away.  I wish I could be home.  But it’s Wednesday night already (isn’t it?  I can’t tell.), and I only have one more work day to go.

Forgive me, Internet, for quitting now.  I haven’t been sleeping well in this hotel bed (I think I hate the pillows – too squishy), I haven’t gone for a run in I don’t know how many days, and I’m really tired.

Meeting (and making) new friends

Yesterday afternoon, I went to DC to meet several local members of the Dooce Community.  Spokeit, a regular commenter here (say hi, everybody) organized it (thank you!), and six of us showed up at Busboys and Poets to hang out (one with baby and brother-in-law in tow).  We talked about everything from ticks to strapless dresses (and puffed sleeves!), and I had a really good time.  I didn’t stay long (about two hours) because I didn’t want to spend most of my last day at home away from John, but I would like to do it again.  Maybe host it next time?  I realized, after I left of course, that even though I brought my camera, I didn’t take a single picture.  I HAVE to get better about that.

Oh, and Spokeit, guess what song was playing on the radio as I left DC?  That’s ri-ight, the ubiquitous (big word points) “Hey, Soul Sister”.  The universe is telling me (and everyone within range of a radio, Sirius or otherwise) to go to the Train concert this summer.

Last thing about yesterday: as I left the restaurant and headed across the street, a guy I’ve never seen before flagged me down and tried to pick me up.  !  He was carrying a couple of cloth Safeway bags full of groceries, and he started chatting me up as we walked down the block.  !!  Was I from around there (no, I told him practically West Virginia), could he have my phone number (“Well, I’m married…” “You’re married?!?”  “… and I was just on my way to pick him up.”), can he call me anyway and we’d just be friends and do I live with my husband (“Of course I live with him.”  “Then I guess I shouldn’t call.”), and then he chatted about the party he was planning for the Lakers game tonight, and then he crossed the street to his apartment building.  And I heaved a sigh of relief because I really don’t know how to handle that kind of situation.  That sounds ridiculous, I know (it’s just talking), but people don’t approach me on the street and start talking unless they need directions or something.  And people certainly don’t hit on me.  Or whatever that was.

And now, let’s add to the list of, shall we say, interesting people I meet on airplanes.  On my flight to Atlanta today, I had an aisle seat in an exit row that only had one other seat (on the window).  A quick glance at my seatmate showed a guy a little older than me, tall, slender, with majorly muscled arms.  (He was wearing a black tank top.)  He was on the phone and was doing that thing some guys do with their voices when they’re talking to women, sort of softening it.  (Did I mention he was good-looking?  He was.  Very.)   Of course I was eavesdropping (it only looked like I was reading), and it sounded like he was talking to his mother.  The flight attendant came by to make sure we were comfortable with the responsibilities that go along with sitting in an exit row, and as she left, he turned to me and said (with a very cute grin), “If it comes to that, I will eat that door.”  It was funny, we laughed, and it turns out he used to be a Marine.  Recon.  Badass.  That helps to explain the tattoos on his arms.  He didn’t seem like your typical macho Marine, though.  He came across more like the perfect sensitive Marine, the ones that only exist in the movies.  He said he was a writer and had recently been published.  What kind of book?  Philosophy.  Oh, and he’s a physical trainer?  I can see that.  And an actor?  Busy guy.  Anything I might have seen?  HBO and The History Channel?  Wow.  And he works for veterans’ groups.  And plans to start a gym in New York that will double as a rehab/counseling center where ex-soldiers conditioned to violence can work on moving past all that.  And apparently, he’s for real.  I wasn’t sure for a while.  He’s this guy.  Also, this guy.  And he’s trying to decide whether he wants to work on a Discovery Channel project next (“One Shot, One Kill” – he was a sniper) or something with Spike TV or one of three other TV projects.  And all of that came AFTER he talked about the training and the killing people and the violent episodes and close calls and how he worries about the guys in his unit who may not have been as strong as he is and can’t break away from the mercenary work they’re doing now that they’re out of the military.  WAY more information (and way more intensely delivered) than I was expecting to take in from a guy I’ve never met before on an hour and a half-long flight to Atlanta.  But he was nice, and he’s got a lot of projects going on, but the ones he seems to take the most seriously are the ones helping his friends and helping veterans.  He was sincere and had been through a lot, and I got off the plane wanting to help him (after I talked to John to hash out how strange the whole experience was).  Oh.  Oh!  How could I leave this part out?  So he’s worked with HBO (he played himself in “Generation Kill”, which started as a book by a reporter who was embedded with his unit in Iraq), and he’s met Ridley Scott and he’s done work in England and HE’S FRIENDS WITH EMMA THOMPSON!  He was her personal trainer for a bit.  How cool is that?  I’m two degrees away (or is that one?) from Emma Thompson!

I’m a gardening fiend

That’s short-lived, I promise.  I don’t like gardening, but I’ll do what I have to do to keep the neighbors from attacking.  We missed mowing the lawn last weekend because of the trip to Pittsburgh, so throughout this past week, the grass got taller and taller and weedier-looking and weedier-looking.  It looked awful, so bad we could have been hiding cars on cinder blocks in the front yard, and we lost the dogs every time we opened the back door.  I knew we had a busy weekend ahead, so since I got home from work early yesterday (yay!), I decided that the least I could do was get a head start on the yardwork.  I spent over three hours out there, weeding my flower bed in the back and mowing the front lawn.  It made a big difference this morning, as John was able to clean, mow, and weed-whack the backyard while I mulched the flower bed, all in about an hour and a half.  (I carried every one of those giant mulch bags all the way to the bed by myself, and I can’t remember the last time I was so completely covered in dirt.  Actual dirty dirt.)

We were right on schedule to get out of the house with plenty of time to get to DC (I’m meeting some people – details will follow after our meetup), but then John checked his work email.  Apparently, something didn’t go quite right after an update and everyone’s panicking (probably unnecessarily), so John’s trying to calm them all down.  I’m waiting to find out if he’ll be stuck working or if he can still go with me.  End result?  We’re running late.  But, since this is a group party-thing I’m going to, it’s not that big a deal if I’m not right on time.  And since I’m leaving tomorrow for a week, I plan to only spend an hour or two at the thing anyway.  I’ll probably want to stay longer (I already want to stay longer), but I don’t want to leave tomorrow feeling like I hardly saw John this weekend.

Oh, we’re going.  More later.

Noooooo!!!!

John and I just watched the two latest episodes of Lost (so we’re all caught up for now), and I’m a little sad.  I may have shed a couple of tears.  (Shh…don’t tell anybody.)

I have a poisonous thumb

After I mentioned possibly starting an herb garden, Mom sent me a couple of links to cool and/or hilarious pots I could use to grow these as-yet-hypothetical herbs.

I think these pots can be found here, but they don’t look exactly right.  The two-tiered thing is very elegant, classic, and possibly the direction I should go in.  On the other hand, these crack me up:

Found here.

The problem (only temporary) with starting an herb garden now (as in this weekend) is that I will hardly be home to take care of the plants over the next two months.  And I don’t know how much cooking John will be doing while I’m gone, with or without fresh herbs.  I suppose I could ask him.  🙂  In fact, I definitely should ’cause I will need his help.  I’m not very good at keeping plants alive.  People?  Sure.  Pets?  No problem!  Plants?  Enter at your own risk.

One thing at a time

Caprese salad, steak, and asparagus.  Fresh (except for the steak – it’s been in the freezer for….a while), healthy, and delicious.  John is grilling (both the steak and the asparagus), and I’m getting hungrier by the second.  I’m also back in planning mode.  Trip-planning mode.  I managed to avoid this phase last weekend.  The trip to Pittsburgh snuck up on me, and when I thought about it, I wasn’t remotely stressed, so I never really planned, aside from packing the day of and setting up the pet sitter a few days before.  This time, though, I’m about to travel for work.  I have to have work clothes, after-work clothes, all the stuff (papers, training guide, copy of my contract, tax-exempt form, etc) I need for work, and who knows what else.  What does John need while I’m gone?  What will I have to do next weekend, when I’m home for about 48 hours before I leave again?  Can I plan ahead for that now?  Wait – stop.  I can do this later.  (Like tomorrow, when I might have the morning to myself at work.)  Now is for dinner.  Only dinner.

No more Facebook for me

That’s not all that difficult for me, since I only went there if I got an email prompting me to, but I read this today (got there from hereNN.c is one of my daily blogs, but with no time to mess around on the Internet at work anymore (having my computer screen projected onto a big white wall while teaching a class makes it pretty much impossible to get away with anything not work-related), it’s been harder for me to visit regularly.  Also, I’m a little intimidated by the regular readers/commenters.  Their comments are never inane.), and I was convinced to delete my account.  So I’m in the two-week waiting period.  If I log in during the next two weeks, my account will be re-activated and I’ll have to delete it again.  Pain in the ass.

That aside, I spent most of today feeling pretty good because I was wearing a CUTE OUTFIT.  CUTE OUTFITS are known for their ability to inspire confidence and all manner of good vibes and other happiness-related goodness, and I highly recommend finding yourself one.  Or five.  Or a hundred.  Right now, I’m at…maybe two.  Today’s CUTE OUTFIT involved a dark grey pencil skirt and a plum-colored tank top and cardigan.  All from Ann Taylor, bought last December when I went shopping with Mom and her friends.

While checking out my other daily blogs (otherwise known as Blogs I Really Want To Check Out Daily, But Don’t Always Make It To, or BIRWTCOD,BDAMIT – appropriately, the acronym ends with “damit”), I found this house.  Wow.  Just wow.  Take a look at the Swedish houses in the posts before and after that one, too.  I need to hire a decorator make a lot money and hire a decorator win the lottery play the lottery.

Emotional rollercoaster

Clearly, the stress is getting to me, and today (at least right now), the ups and downs seem pretty funny.  This morning I started out generally tired and not quite awake.  Middle of the road, emotionally.  I got to the part of my commute where I always need additional waking up, so I turned off my book and switched to music.  Some song I really like (I don’t remember which one right now) came on just as the sun came out from behind the clouds.  Combine that with the fact that I was on the GW Parkway (beautiful drive), and the sunlight was being filtered through all the trees, and all of a sudden, I was happy.  It was a beautiful day, I was up in the early morning sunshine, and I was singing along to a song I like.  Unfortunately, the next song was “Everything I Do” by Bryan Adams.  I like it, and I can sing along to it, but instead I got all sappy and cried.  In the car.  On Constitution Avenue.  Tears streaming down my face and everything. For no good reason.

(Just after I wrote that, Roxy puked on the floor, and I can’t identify what she threw up.  Seriously, what was that?)

Anyway, I got over the tears easily enough and quickly moved on to annoyance.  My class got moved to a new room starting this morning.  The new room has a keypad, and the people in charge of the room won’t give me the code.  No big deal as long as they’re around to let me in every day.  The agreement (or so I thought) was to meet me at 7:45 to let me in so I could set up.  I was there by 7:45.  They did not show up until 8:40.  Class is supposed to start at 8:30.  So I spent almost an hour parked outside the door to that room, determined to be there when this person showed up, trying to reach anyone I can think of who might be able to get me in.  Since they refuse to give me the code to the room, someone has to be there to open the door for the class every day this week at 8:30 (they refuse to come in any earlier, so my class will start late every day) and at 1pm so we can get in after lunch.  You know, I’m still annoyed by that.

At lunchtime, I left the building.  I ate my lunch on a bench in the shade in the plaza outside the building.  Perfect weather, wonderfully pleasant, and I finished lunch feeling MUCH better.  The good feelings continued during my drive home, with more perfect weather and a beautiful drive, and then I took the dogs on a walk.  All is well.  As long as I get to bed on time tonight.

I’m on my way, but first, watch this.  I know it’s a little late (not last Saturday, the week before), but we just watched it tonight, and I think it’s hilarious.  The guy is one of the SNL writers, and he’s adorable in this clip.  Little boy adorable.  Makes you wanna put him in your pocket and take him home.

Rain. And herbs.

Today would have been better spent in bed.  It was POURing down rain when I came downstairs after my shower this morning, and it took everything I had not to run back upstairs.  Not that it was a bad day.  I just don’t feel like I’m having any good days lately.  And that’s SO not true, I know it isn’t, but it feels like it sometimes.

That’s WAY too depressing.  It’s on the verge of too depressing to post, but I see no reason to censor myself.  On that subject, anyway.

I think I might start an herb garden.  In a pot or a windowsill planter or something.  We bought fresh basil from the store yesterday, and it smells really good.  What herbs should I plant, though?  I need to look into this.  Tomorrow.  After I sleep.

The A/C is still alive

We turned the A/C off while we were away ’cause it was making some not-good rattling noises Friday afternoon.  And then we had 80-degree weather all weekend, so we came home to a stuffy house.  Turned the A/C back on, and voila! (or “wa-la!”, as Mindy used to say), cold air!  We’ve been home for almost two hours, and so far, no rattling.  Maybe it fixed itself while we were gone.

I’ve got a couple of random pictures of the UPitt campus from Saturday’s graduation ceremony.  Saturday was a beautiful day, all warm and sunny.  We woke up to pouring rain this morning, and after dropping Emily, Tom, and Molly at the building for the big university commencement, John and I hit the road for home.  It’s an easy four-hour drive (easier on a Sunday afternoon, in daylight, when we’ve only been up for four hours, not fourteen), and we stopped at Wegman’s on the way home so I wouldn’t have to go back out for groceries.  We ate lunch around 2:30, so we’re having tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella for dinner.  Light, fresh, easy.

Emily in her cute wrap dress and new pearls. Oh yeah, there's a sign behind her. We'd hate to forget where we were...

Emily in her gown and hood, while we tried to figure out how she was supposed to wear the damn thing.

The diplodocus (Elmer) outside the Carnegie Music Hall, our meetup spot after graduation.

The Cathedral of Learning (real name of the building)

Some church through the trees. Pretty.

I liked Pittsburgh.  We saw some really nice neighborhoods, some cute shopping districts, and I’m sure there are other places around the city we would enjoy hanging out in.  I’m not sure when the next opportunity will arise, though, since Emily will be moving away this summer to start her new job in New Hampshire?  Philadelphia?  Probably not North Carolina, but she’s got interested parties in all three places.  Good for her.

The marathon is not why we were here

One of the legs of the Pittsburgh Marathon is right outside our hotel room, and we have a great view from our window, so John and I are watching as we take turns showering, packing, etc, before we check out.  The pep band from one of the local universities (I can’t tell which one) is set up right on on the route, so I can hear all the standard pep band songs (“Louie, Louie”, “Another One Bites the Dust”, “Axel F”, plus a few extras (like the theme from Futurama – I could swear I heard that one a few minutes ago).  The rain is pouring down, which would explain why we’re watching from our hotel room and not from the sidelines, but now I’m thinking about volunteering to help out at local races.  Particularly the longer ones, the ones I have no interest in running in myself.  🙂

Hitting the road soon.

Derby Day!

I wasn’t able to hold my almost-annual Derby party today, but I did get to watch the race.  (I did not choose the winning horse, but then, I never do.)  We just got back from an evening at the Hofbrauhaus, where John and Tom each drank about two liters of beer, and I now consider myself an expert user of the Pittsburgh city bus system.  Close to expert.  Close enough.  It helps to make friends with the bus driver.  Tomorrow doesn’t have to start as early as today did (Today we had Emily’s school graduation to go to, so we were up at 7.  Tomorrow is the university commencement, but it doesn’t start until 2pm.), thank goodness, so I’m hoping to get a good night’s sleep for the first time in….many, many weeks.