It’s been six years (SIX YEARS) since my last post like this. Back in May 2010, I was in Boston for work, and I tried my hand at selfies. I was using an actual camera, not a phone, and it didn’t have a forward-facing camera, and it was hard. See attempts here.
Now, six years later, selfies are more of a thing than ever, I have a front-facing camera, and I still can’t do it (god, I’m old). All I was trying to do last Saturday was take pictures of pretty scenery with my smiling face in front. (Yes, I could have asked John to take the pictures. NOT THE POINT.) How do people do this?
Okay, a couple were semi-successful. Here’s one from today with RAINBOWS.
Did you know that when you fly through a cloud of gnats at 15 miles per hour, they feel like tiny pebbles hitting your face? Now you do. Good thing my mouth was closed. And I was wearing sunglasses. I always wear sunglasses when I ride my bike, sunny or not, getting dark or not. If I don’t, all that wind rushing into my face makes my contacts get all dry. Plus, bugs. I was riding my bike back from yoga one night several years ago, no sunglasses because it was getting dark, and a bug flew right into my eye. It was gross. And distracting. And gross.
What’s not gross? I just watched a video of a guy proposing to his girlfriend by handing her a puppy with the ring tied to its collar. SO CUTE. The puppy, not so much the proposal. I don’t care about that. Although, ACTUALLY…that’s kind of gross, too. Not gross in the same way as bugs in your eye, but it’s like cheating. “She CAN’T say no to me after I’ve given her the cutest puppy in the world!” Cue evil laugh.
I hope you said yes because you want to marry him and weren’t swayed at all by the cute puppy in your arms, lady in the video I watched with the sound off so I don’t know what really happened!
You know how when you call a business from your cell phone, your screen shows you information about that business, like their number, maybe their hours, and their address? I never pay much attention to it because I’m ON the phone and that info is pressed against my cheek. Today, I called the Massage Envy I used to go to in Virginia because I needed to update my credit card information, and I used my headset so the phone was on the desk. As I hung up, I noticed that it told me how far away the Massage Envy is from me. Right now. Like I needed to know that Massage Envy is 2335 miles away. Maybe it’s so if I make an appointment I’ll give myself plenty of time to get there.
2335 miles doesn’t seem far enough…aaaaaannnnd it’s not. Google Maps says it’s 2800 miles away. You’d think my phone would use Google Maps. It IS a Google Android phone. Maybe I read the screen wrong. Anyway, I’m tickled.
The other day, in the park (where you could be forgiven for thinking I LIVE now), I saw a couple of sheriff’s deputies roaming the tree line between the path and the river with these big grid-like antenna things (like an old-fashioned TV antenna). Naturally, I assumed they were searching for aliens. I’ve checked the news and haven’t heard anything about it. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s just the sort of thing they would keep quiet. I’ll just have to pay more attention.
Eugene has a real leprechaun. I’m not kidding – I saw him yesterday. He had a green top hat, a green shirt, a gray beard (medium length, not quite ZZ Top), and he was riding a green bicycle. I couldn’t tell if he had a pot of gold, and then he got away from me. He was on his bright green bike, and I was running. Couldn’t keep up. I’ll keep an eye out for him.
Oh, I know – he got away because I wasn’t wearing my shamrock necklace. Damn. Gotta plan my accessories better.
As I was walking back from the park today, I noticed a woman walking a dog in front of me. The dog was in a harness, on a leash. Nothing remotely unusual. They were, I don’t know, 50 feet in front of me, and the woman was carrying something in her arms. I was far enough away not to see any details, but it was about the size of a small child or a baby.
I assumed it was a small child or a baby.
After she crossed the street, she stooped to put down whatever was in her arms, and I could see it was a big gray cat. It wasn’t wearing a collar, it wasn’t on a leash, and it didn’t follow her down the sidewalk, even though she kept looking back at it.
Was it her cat? Was she taking it for a walk? Did she expect it to follow her home? Maybe she knew it would find its way eventually. If it wasn’t her cat, did she pick it up thinking it was a stray? If so, why put it back down and leave it? Was she just helping it across the street, like you might help a senior citizen?
TANGENT: I have never seen anyone help a senior citizen across the street in real life. Do people really do that? In the movies, it’s just boy scouts or characters proving they’re nice people.
If the lady was helping a stray cat across the street, how did she know it needed help? And if it needed help across the street, it seems cold to just leave it behind after that. Of course, it looked pretty healthy and whole to me.
I didn’t stick around to see what happened, so maybe it WAS hers and maybe it DID follow her down the sidewalk after a suitable waiting period to show it was capable of doing things on its own, damn it, and it doesn’t need anyone’s help.
Still. Who carries a cat around at the park? Unless she thought it was the zombie apocalypse…it all makes sense now.
Corey presented this video as proof that he could have caused his little sisters more harm. Congrats, Cor. You’re not the world’s worst older brother.
Hee. See what I did there? “Truckin'”? ‘Cause we’re moving? Get it? GET IT?
Sorry.
I have been super-productive today, as far as the move goes. Maybe not so much in other areas.
I have a call in with the movers to discuss the delivery date.
We got two new tires put on the car.
The electricity/water/sewer is all set up.
The garbage/recycling is all set up.
The gas is all set up.
Internet in Annapolis is cancelled (well, it’s set up to be cancelled – we still need internet for a week).
Change of address and mail forwarding is all set up with the post office.
I need to figure out internet in Eugene (it’ll be Comcast, and I’m putting off that call), but I think that’s it for utilities. I did the electricity/water thing and the address change online, but I spoke to live people at the garbage company, the gas company, and Verizon (internet in Annapolis), and they were all SO NICE. So pleasant, so friendly, so unlike customer service at many utilities. (I’m looking at you, Verizon-from-when-we-set-up-our-account-a-year-ago.) Even cancelling the account at Verizon just now was quick and easy. They usually give the hard sell to stay, but aside from waiting on hold for 15 minutes, the call itself was really smooth. What a nice change.
I didn’t run today, but I think I got the same endorphin rush from my unexpectedly agreeable chores.
First-graders are like wind-up toys. Really. I ran by the local Catholic school this morning as parents were dropping their kids off, and I saw half a dozen little kids in their cute little uniforms pop out of several cars already at full-speed (the kids, not the cars). It looked like someone wound them up inside the car, opened the door, and let go. They all went dashing off down the sidewalk with their giant backpacks on. I was amused.
I saw daffodils this morning! They’re so friendly.
This morning, I noticed a friendly little duck hanging out on the edge of our shower.
John spent some time working on his car last weekend and got grease and grime under his fingernails for the first time in months, so he dug out the cute little nail brushes with ducks on top that we got as stocking stuffers last Christmas. I had completely forgotten about them, but how cute is that little guy? The other one is pink.
Makes me think I should get a rubber ducky or two for my bathtub in Oregon.
Last Saturday was my birthday, so John and I spent the evening in Eugene, by ourselves. We wanted to check out the neighborhood our new house is in at night, we wanted to walk around Eugene at night, and we wanted to go out to dinner (since it was my birthday).
Initial thoughts:
Our new neighborhood is safe and quiet.
Eugene is DEAD on Saturday nights. It was about 7:30 – not a lot of traffic, no one walking around, and all of the restaurants were at least half-empty. Possible extenuating circumstances: it was February and there was a home basketball game. Dead is not necessarily a bad thing for us. We’re hardly party people. Besides, I’m not sure this was a typical Saturday. And we didn’t stay out late.
The food is GOOD. We picked a random restaurant after walking around downtown for 20 minutes, as empty as any of them, and had a really good meal. So very different from our experience in Annapolis.
On our way back to the car after dinner, we passed The Eugene Hotel Retirement Center, where hotels go to retire. I think.
The Eugene Hotel Retirement Center is guarded by Doorman Duck.
For reasons that I cannot remember right now, I googled “Rachel McAdams hair” today and searched the images that appeared.
To start with, I was (and am) tickled at the categories across the top.
You can search for pictures of her hair by year, by color, by movie – the possibilities are endless!
Oh, I remember – I saw a picture of her on Tom and Lorenzo with blond hair, and I couldn’t remember what she looked like with red hair. It was important to me at the time.
So I scrolled through the results.
Rachel McAdams with short hair:
Rachel McAdams with red hair:
Rachel McAdams with brown hair:
Rachel McAdams with blond hair:
NOT Rachel McAdams:
Imagine my surprise when I found that among the many many many head shots of Rachel McAdams. That’s what’s-her-name from Modern Family. She doesn’t look like Rachel McAdams. She has hair, so maybe that’s why Google included her? Nah, Google is better than that.
But wait!
ALSO not Rachel McAdams:
Dude, that’s Keri Russell! And wait, isn’t that Emma Stone?
Why are these people who are not Rachel McAdams showing up in my Google results? Is Google sick? Maybe Google is very clever and has reached into the heads of these three women and discovered that they all want to BE Rachel McAdams, and because Google loves them very much, it wants to do them this favor and let them pretend they ARE Rachel McAdams and so they show up in search results for Rachel McAdams and….no. That can’t be it. At least because I can’t imagine any of them wishing they were Rachel McAdams instead of themselves. Not because I think any of this is ridiculous and far-fetched. Because it’s definitely not that.
We went for a walk this morning and saw the BEST snow sculptures.
Everybody run! Preferably up some stairs! Oh, wait – daleks fly now. There’s no hope!
I’m not sure why R2-D2 is hanging out with an Easter Island head (I’m assuming, from the tiki torch, that it’s an Easter Island head and not, say George Washington), but I like that they’re all buddy-buddy.
Just because I had no intention of playing in the snow and getting all cold doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate when others do.
I’m home! The flight was a little bumpy, otherwise uneventful. Not full. The flight attendants were practicing their stand-up routines, but one of them liked my hat, so I’ll give them a pass on that.
We spent much of the day watching more Supernatural episodes. Season 1 Sam and Dean were such babies! We’ll have to work that show back into our regular TV rotation. I’ve missed the Winchester boys.
Oh, hey, I learned a new joke on Thanksgiving that is my new favorite joke, but I can’t write it down. The joke is in the delivery. I have a video of Christine doing it, but John just pointed out that I took that video in portrait mode, not landscape, so I can’t post it online. I’ll be laughed off the internet, possibly with tomatoes thrown at me. You want to hear it? You’ll have to come see me. Or call me. Skype is also good. We’ll work it out.
I went down to do laundry (yes, I’m ALWAYS doing laundry), and I found the door slightly ajar. The lights were off. I was alarmed. Clearly, the basement monster got out. Or was thinking about getting out. Or was standing right there at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. But I turned on the light first because I know what’s up. No monster. Which only means he’s fast. And hiding. Or already lose and on the rampage. But my guess is that he was hiding and using his creepy monster powers to make me forget things like my keys. I got all the way up to the apartment door before realizing I couldn’t open it because I left my keys on the icky folding table I will never ever use. Had to go all the way back down into the basement to get them. Luckily, the monster hadn’t taken them yet. Lesson? (I have to learn a lesson since I’m stuck in this basement/laundry/monster situation.) Always wear clothes with pockets when doing the laundry. Then the keys go into my pockets and don’t get left behind.
This is why Twitter is fun. I do not know Fancy Lady Rae (@imafancylady), and she does not know me, but we connected on Twitter recently while the Bloggess was retweeting everyone’s mortifying moments. Without the Bloggess, I wouldn’t have enjoyed these few moments before going to bed last night:
Then I made it awkward by saying good night. Who does that? I just didn’t know how to say this is really fun, but I’m tired, and I have to work in the morning, so….let’s stop now. I suppose I could have said that.
I follow The Bloggess on Twitter (@thebloggess) and I have never been happier that I do than this week. It started on Sunday, as we were traveling back from Oregon. You may have heard about it – this showed up on Buzzfeed AND in the New York Times. I’ll let The Bloggess tell you about it, but I’ve been reading these tweets since Sunday (and re-reading some of them over the last day or two). I was giggling in the airport, chuckling while the plane was on the tarmac, laughing in the next airport, and I stayed up way too late after we got back (which was late to begin with) practically crying while reading them in bed. Some of them were so funny I couldn’t read them out loud to John through the laughter. I think they have a cumulative effect – they get funnier the more you read at one time.
A couple bunch of my favorites (that I actually favorited on Twitter so I could read them again):
Then there was one that I thought I favorited in Twitter, but I can’t find it, so I’ll paraphrase. “My brother called me in a panic because he couldn’t find his phone. I said, what did you call me on? He hung up.”
Anyway, The Bloggess has two posts about them, and she reposted a TON of them, so you can enjoy them, too!
This morning, I saw a guy running across the bridge with his dog. Not unusual. His dog was carrying a stick. Not unusual. The stick was as long as I am tall, and the dog was carrying it sideways on a narrow sidewalk. Unusual. And hilarious. And John was right in front of me and DIDN’T NOTICE. He needs to look around more.
Later, I was walking back from coffee with Jess, and I noticed a guy smoking. I mean, HE was smoking. No, I mean, smoke was BILLOWING out of his mouth and hovering in a big white cloud behind him. I’m sure there was a cigarette (or a giant torch) or something involved (there must have been, right? He’s not a chimney.), but he was at the far end of the block and I couldn’t see it. Just the smoke. Coming out of his mouth. Oh my god – he’s a dragon. I missed my opportunity to meet a dragon! Damn it.
Willamette is not pronounced the way I thought it was. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve been saying it wrong my whole life, but only because it only came to my notice a few years ago. Looks like Will-uh-METT, right? Yeah, noooo. It’s Will-LAM-it. Like, going on the lam. Or Mary had a little lamb. Sounds mildly ridiculous, but it’s growing on me.
The reason blender lids have that center plastic piece that comes out is so you can pour things in while the blender is running. I never knew. If I put any thought into it at all, I would have assumed it came out to make the lid easier to clean. I watched Christina make a basil/vinegar/other stuff blend for pasta salad the other night, and my mind was blown when she poured olive oil in through the lid.
Patty-cake is NOT allowed on beaches in Oregon.
Waves are tricksy beings and like to creep up behind people, splash them a little, and run away cackling.
Today, when I say overweight, I’m referring to John’s suitcase. He’s playing superhero, right? Well, Captain Wammy has a lot of gear, and it all needs to fit in a suitcase to get to Oregon. He just filled his suitcase and stepped on the scale – so far, it’s under 50 lbs, but I’m not sure it’ll stay that way. He’s using a suitcase that’s heavier to begin with, but that’s because it’s also sturdier. It would suck if his stuff got damaged because something gigantic smashed one of the flimsier suitcases. I have a feeling my suitcase is going to get filled with various electronic gadgets.
Oh, I’m a sidekick! Captain Wammy and The Uke, appearing in the nick of time to keep bands from having to cancel gigs at the last minute!
Other sidekick names (I’m trying them out in my head, like “Captain Wammy and….”, even though I don’t think John would be pleased with Captain Wammy. Greg is hilarious, though, and I like it.):
