My alarm clock has two alarms. I use them both. At 6:05, the radio turns itself on, and then if I continue to hit the snooze button the annoying beeping alarm will sound at 6:30. This morning when the radio turned itself on, the morning DJs were playing a preview for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. It took me a second or two to reach out an arm to hit the snooze button (I need both alarms) and by the time I had freed my arm from the covers, Matt had rolled over and stopped me. His eyes were as wide as a five-year-old's on Christmas morning. It was very cute.
While I was writing that first paragraph, I almost typed "the radio went off" about four times, then realized that it sounded like the radio had been on and was now turning off. Aren't idioms fun?
I got on the scale this morning before my shower, and it looks like I might have gained a pound or so this week. Hardly surprising, since we were at a wedding this weekend (not to mention the wonderful rehearsal dinner the night before). I just hope I didn't gain too much.
I have to stop bringing books to work with me. I brought one yesterday and started reading it in the morning, got sucked into the book, and didn't do a lick of work all day. (Well, that's not quite true, but almost.) So today I need to actually do work. The horror... I'm not very excited about it, though - Friday I found out that now we're adding another two pointless layers to the project. I won't bother trying to explain, because so few of the people who read this are programmers (and explaining in deep detail might get me in trouble anyway) but suffice it to say that I was already irritable with the number of layers I was being required to create, and now there's another two. So I'm not very happy, but I am a lowly programmer and so my opinion is casually disregarded. (Listened to, but ignored.)
Dammit, I don't want to feel dissatisfied with my job! I don't know what else I would do!
Gods. It already feels like it should be Thursday or Friday, but it's only Tuesday. How am I going to get through the rest of the week? Oh, well. I guess I'll start with breakfast.
Tuesday, May 11, 1999
Monday, May 10, 1999
So. None of my aimless worrying about the wedding came true. I'll wait a couple of seconds here while the rest of you get the "Well duh"s and "Toldja so"s out of your systems.
Everybody - and I mean everybody, including Heather (the bride), Tristan (the groom), and the minister - came from out of town for this wedding. The only people who started out in Williamsburg were Matt and I, and Heather's brother, who goes to William and Mary. Every wedding needs a few disasters, don't you think?
Disaster #1: The minister and his wife were supposed to pick up Jason (Tristan's twin brother) on Friday morning and take him to the airport, and the three of them were all going to fly together. Their flight took them from Chicago to Norfolk to Richmond. I don't know why the person arranging the tickets didn't hear this flight path and say, "Hey, Norfolk and Richmond are about the same distance from Williamsburg. Let's just take the straight flight to Norfolk!" but they didn't. However, by the time they got to Norfolk, the flight was running a little behind, and they decided to disembark at Norfolk instead of waiting for the additional flight to Richmond. The people at the airport argued with them profusely and wound up charging them extra, and - I know this is going to shock you - their luggage continued on to Richmond. Luckily, the luggage caught up with them Friday night.
Potential Disaster #1: I don't know whether this minister was flummoxed by not being in his church, or what, but he acted like he'd never performed a marriage before. He also acted like he had no idea what a schedule was. We had exactly one hour to do the rehearsal - another rehearsal was scheduled right after ours, so we couldn't stretch it. Matt and I had been strongly urged by Tristan to show up early, if at all possible. We were early. Heather showed up ten minutes late, and Tristan fifteen. This left us with about forty-five minutes to rehearse. The minister wasted at least ten minutes of that time praying. Then, he pondered for what I thought was an absurd length of time over the proper arrangement and order of things. If no one else had any ideas, wouldn't you think he would have a basic plan?
Potential Disaster #2: Before the wedding, while the bride and bridesmaids were still being photographed, the minister took the groom and groomsmen aside and told them he'd decided on an alternate processional. No one told the girls. It's a good thing the original processional didn't have everyone entering in pairs, or the girls would still be waiting at the back of that chapel for their escorts.
Disaster #2: When we got to the reception, it seemed to be a bit warm. I asked one of the staff if they could turn up the air conditioning, and they promised to get right on it. Half an hour later, I found the manager and asked her to do it, and was told that the air conditioner was broken, but that they were working on it.
Disaster #2.5: When it became clear that the air conditioner was not going to be fixed, Matt approached a staff member and asked them if he could open the windows which lined one wall. The staff member promised to go ask her manager, and then returned to answer, "No - the bride's father has requested some fans, and someone has already gone to get them." We were unsure of why the use of fans would preclude the opening of windows, but obviously this staff member was not hired for her independent thinking and quick wits, so Matt asked another, who replied, "Go fer it, dude!" All but two of the windows, however, refused to stay open, and we wound up collecting empty soda bottles and using them as props.
The temperature improved by about ten degrees, and though it was still warm, we sat back to watch the dancing and enjoy ourselves. I don't know what started the reaction, but something (a strong gust of wind, perhaps) knocked the soda bottle out from the window directly behind Matt and me. My first clue was the crash! of the window falling suddenly closed. As I turned, it was like a slow-motion movie: The window popped out of its groove and began to fall as I realized that it was going to hit the hurricane lamp and candle in the window's alcove. Slowly, it did, and I instinctively raised my arm to protect my eyes as the hurricane shattered into a billion pieces. Then I saw that the candle, though it was knocked over, was still burning, and I could just see it falling to the ground and catching the tablecloth on fire, or burning someone who was trying to clean up and didn't notice it, so I leaned forward and blew it out. Then I turned around. Heather was directly across the room from me, looking understandably startled and worried, and I gestured to her that no one had been hurt. She looked relieved and turned back to the guest she'd been talking to. About four staff members hustled up to clean up the broken glass, and I stepped forward to forestall the three or four children who were drawn to the disaster like flies to honey. Then Heather's mother arrived to find out what happened and make sure everyone was all right. "Oh, no, we're all fine; it's just the broken glass," I reassured, waving my hands placatingly. As I waved my hands, though, I noticed that there was blood running down my finger. "...except that I appear to have a small cut." The hotel's party manager teleported onto the scene (at least, it seemed that fast) with a bandaid for me and she got my name for the accident report.
Being right on the edge of a knuckle, the cut refused to stop bleeding until hours later, but it didn't hurt at all. It didn't even hurt later, and it's almost healed already today.
So there were the disasters. Not too bad, really. And I took what I hope will be some really nice pictures. Must remember to get doubles so I can send them copies - I found out last year that you simply can not have too many wedding pictures.
Everybody - and I mean everybody, including Heather (the bride), Tristan (the groom), and the minister - came from out of town for this wedding. The only people who started out in Williamsburg were Matt and I, and Heather's brother, who goes to William and Mary. Every wedding needs a few disasters, don't you think?
Disaster #1: The minister and his wife were supposed to pick up Jason (Tristan's twin brother) on Friday morning and take him to the airport, and the three of them were all going to fly together. Their flight took them from Chicago to Norfolk to Richmond. I don't know why the person arranging the tickets didn't hear this flight path and say, "Hey, Norfolk and Richmond are about the same distance from Williamsburg. Let's just take the straight flight to Norfolk!" but they didn't. However, by the time they got to Norfolk, the flight was running a little behind, and they decided to disembark at Norfolk instead of waiting for the additional flight to Richmond. The people at the airport argued with them profusely and wound up charging them extra, and - I know this is going to shock you - their luggage continued on to Richmond. Luckily, the luggage caught up with them Friday night.
Potential Disaster #1: I don't know whether this minister was flummoxed by not being in his church, or what, but he acted like he'd never performed a marriage before. He also acted like he had no idea what a schedule was. We had exactly one hour to do the rehearsal - another rehearsal was scheduled right after ours, so we couldn't stretch it. Matt and I had been strongly urged by Tristan to show up early, if at all possible. We were early. Heather showed up ten minutes late, and Tristan fifteen. This left us with about forty-five minutes to rehearse. The minister wasted at least ten minutes of that time praying. Then, he pondered for what I thought was an absurd length of time over the proper arrangement and order of things. If no one else had any ideas, wouldn't you think he would have a basic plan?
Potential Disaster #2: Before the wedding, while the bride and bridesmaids were still being photographed, the minister took the groom and groomsmen aside and told them he'd decided on an alternate processional. No one told the girls. It's a good thing the original processional didn't have everyone entering in pairs, or the girls would still be waiting at the back of that chapel for their escorts.
Disaster #2: When we got to the reception, it seemed to be a bit warm. I asked one of the staff if they could turn up the air conditioning, and they promised to get right on it. Half an hour later, I found the manager and asked her to do it, and was told that the air conditioner was broken, but that they were working on it.
Disaster #2.5: When it became clear that the air conditioner was not going to be fixed, Matt approached a staff member and asked them if he could open the windows which lined one wall. The staff member promised to go ask her manager, and then returned to answer, "No - the bride's father has requested some fans, and someone has already gone to get them." We were unsure of why the use of fans would preclude the opening of windows, but obviously this staff member was not hired for her independent thinking and quick wits, so Matt asked another, who replied, "Go fer it, dude!" All but two of the windows, however, refused to stay open, and we wound up collecting empty soda bottles and using them as props.
The temperature improved by about ten degrees, and though it was still warm, we sat back to watch the dancing and enjoy ourselves. I don't know what started the reaction, but something (a strong gust of wind, perhaps) knocked the soda bottle out from the window directly behind Matt and me. My first clue was the crash! of the window falling suddenly closed. As I turned, it was like a slow-motion movie: The window popped out of its groove and began to fall as I realized that it was going to hit the hurricane lamp and candle in the window's alcove. Slowly, it did, and I instinctively raised my arm to protect my eyes as the hurricane shattered into a billion pieces. Then I saw that the candle, though it was knocked over, was still burning, and I could just see it falling to the ground and catching the tablecloth on fire, or burning someone who was trying to clean up and didn't notice it, so I leaned forward and blew it out. Then I turned around. Heather was directly across the room from me, looking understandably startled and worried, and I gestured to her that no one had been hurt. She looked relieved and turned back to the guest she'd been talking to. About four staff members hustled up to clean up the broken glass, and I stepped forward to forestall the three or four children who were drawn to the disaster like flies to honey. Then Heather's mother arrived to find out what happened and make sure everyone was all right. "Oh, no, we're all fine; it's just the broken glass," I reassured, waving my hands placatingly. As I waved my hands, though, I noticed that there was blood running down my finger. "...except that I appear to have a small cut." The hotel's party manager teleported onto the scene (at least, it seemed that fast) with a bandaid for me and she got my name for the accident report.
Being right on the edge of a knuckle, the cut refused to stop bleeding until hours later, but it didn't hurt at all. It didn't even hurt later, and it's almost healed already today.
So there were the disasters. Not too bad, really. And I took what I hope will be some really nice pictures. Must remember to get doubles so I can send them copies - I found out last year that you simply can not have too many wedding pictures.
Friday, May 7, 1999
No spiders in the entryway this morning. There was a centipede, or maybe a millipede (at 2 in the morning I wasn't going to hunker down to check its leg-to-segment ratio). But it was minding its own business, moving slowly away from my apartment, and anyway, I'm not afraid of them. So that was a good thing.
Matt and I will be leaving work a touch early today so we can go home and change clothes for a wedding rehearsal. (I've never figured out why people dress up for the rehearsal, but it's their wedding; I'll wear a dress if they want me to.) They've scheduled an hour-long rehearsal, which means one of two things: They're doing something moderately complicated with the processional, or they're worrying way too much.
I suspect the latter.
So anyway, Matt talked to Tristan last night to confirm the plans. And they've got all these great schedules that I'm pretty sure are going to collapse entirely. Matt thought I was being negative when I laughed at the schedules, but I really wasn't. It's just that when you've got twenty or more people to organize, schedules like that just don't work. Twenty to thirty people (I'm guessing at the numbers, here, but they seem reasonable) don't eat dinner at an exclusive restaurant in less than two hours. (Heck, twenty to thirty people can't even travel the mile from the church to the restaurant in the scheduled half-hour.) I don't know why, and it irritates me, too, but Tristan and Heather are already going to be frazzled and irritable when the schedule slides, so there's really no point to me being frazzled and irritable as well. As long as I'm not the one holding up the show!
So Matt and I are leaving work early to change into something nice for the rehearsal. (Matt asked Tristan what the dresscode was, and Tristan said, essentially, shirt and tie, but "not a dress tie!" I'll wait while you finish chuckling at that.) After the rehearsal, we'll head to the rehearsal dinner, which I'm pretty excited about, since I haven't eaten at this particular very nice restaurant since my sixteenth birthday. Then we'll go home and change into jeans again, and we'll meet the younger crowd at the bowling alley for the bachelor party. (Don't say anything. Heather will never have to worry that Tristan did anything untoward or illegal at his bachelor party.)
So, aside from the rehearsal (which will be boring because I'm not part of it) and waiting for twenty or thirty people to get their collective butts in gear, tonight should be fun. I'm not sure about Saturday, though.
The groomsmen are having photographs taken before the wedding, and then they'll arrive at the wedding in a limo. Which means I'll be dropping Matt off at the hotel at about 11, and going to the church on my own, alone. (I don't like being alone. I especially don't like being alone when I don't know anyone else - and I'm pretty sure that the only people coming to this wedding that I know are going to be in the wedding party.) But at least it's a wedding, which is a spectator sport and I won't look like a wallflower if I'm not making conversation. I'm a little more dubious about the reception.
When I was in college, I went with my boyfriend P. to his brother's wedding - P. was part of the wedding party. I had met P.'s brother and his fiancee on several occasions and liked them both quite a bit. This was a seated dinner, and the wedding party was seated at a long head table. I was seated with P.'s family, which was a nice touch since P. and I weren't even engaged. But P.'s grandmother is one of the most disagreeable old ladies I've ever met in my life, and someone who wasn't thinking had seated this two-pack-a-day smoker between two non-smokers. And without coordinating, both of us managed to ask her to move her smoke to the other side of the table. (We were both polite enough not to ask her to put it out, notice.) But I was the second requester (having missed the first) and she blew up at me. I was embarrassed, humiliated, and angry, but I didn't know anyone else present, (except the people obviously having so much fun at the head table) so I couldn't do anything but excuse myself. Due to someone's obnoxious planning, P. was expected to dance first with a bridesmaid, then with his new sister-in-law, then with his mother, then with his awful grandmother, and only then was he excused to either dance with whoever he pleased or not dance at all - so I was left alone and miserable all the way through dinner and for about forty-five minutes afterward. It was one of the worse experiences of my life, actually. (This memory was, by the way, the one that spawned my side of the table argument.)
Now, I'm sure this won't be anywhere near that bad. For one thing, I'm not as emotionally dependant as I used to be, so I'm sure I can survive some time without my husband. And my allergy to smoke isn't as bad as it used to be, and I've figured out since then that no one is going to care if I discreetly move to another seat if the one I'm assigned isn't working out. (Actually, this is a mid-afternoon reception, so I'll be surprised if there are assigned seats at all.)
It's just that I'm a terribly introverted person, and even more so when I don't know anyone I'm trying to talk to. So I worry about things that really aren't that important, like whether I'll find anyone to talk to or dance with or if I'll just spend the whole afternoon sitting in a corner. Stupid, I know, but what can you do?
Anyway, I'm sure I'll feel better when I actually get there. And I've been told that several girlfriends of groomsmen are coming along to the bowling party, so maybe by tomorrow I'll have met some other people to hang around with. I just wanted to whine a little. Just in case.
Matt and I will be leaving work a touch early today so we can go home and change clothes for a wedding rehearsal. (I've never figured out why people dress up for the rehearsal, but it's their wedding; I'll wear a dress if they want me to.) They've scheduled an hour-long rehearsal, which means one of two things: They're doing something moderately complicated with the processional, or they're worrying way too much.
I suspect the latter.
So anyway, Matt talked to Tristan last night to confirm the plans. And they've got all these great schedules that I'm pretty sure are going to collapse entirely. Matt thought I was being negative when I laughed at the schedules, but I really wasn't. It's just that when you've got twenty or more people to organize, schedules like that just don't work. Twenty to thirty people (I'm guessing at the numbers, here, but they seem reasonable) don't eat dinner at an exclusive restaurant in less than two hours. (Heck, twenty to thirty people can't even travel the mile from the church to the restaurant in the scheduled half-hour.) I don't know why, and it irritates me, too, but Tristan and Heather are already going to be frazzled and irritable when the schedule slides, so there's really no point to me being frazzled and irritable as well. As long as I'm not the one holding up the show!
So Matt and I are leaving work early to change into something nice for the rehearsal. (Matt asked Tristan what the dresscode was, and Tristan said, essentially, shirt and tie, but "not a dress tie!" I'll wait while you finish chuckling at that.) After the rehearsal, we'll head to the rehearsal dinner, which I'm pretty excited about, since I haven't eaten at this particular very nice restaurant since my sixteenth birthday. Then we'll go home and change into jeans again, and we'll meet the younger crowd at the bowling alley for the bachelor party. (Don't say anything. Heather will never have to worry that Tristan did anything untoward or illegal at his bachelor party.)
So, aside from the rehearsal (which will be boring because I'm not part of it) and waiting for twenty or thirty people to get their collective butts in gear, tonight should be fun. I'm not sure about Saturday, though.
The groomsmen are having photographs taken before the wedding, and then they'll arrive at the wedding in a limo. Which means I'll be dropping Matt off at the hotel at about 11, and going to the church on my own, alone. (I don't like being alone. I especially don't like being alone when I don't know anyone else - and I'm pretty sure that the only people coming to this wedding that I know are going to be in the wedding party.) But at least it's a wedding, which is a spectator sport and I won't look like a wallflower if I'm not making conversation. I'm a little more dubious about the reception.
When I was in college, I went with my boyfriend P. to his brother's wedding - P. was part of the wedding party. I had met P.'s brother and his fiancee on several occasions and liked them both quite a bit. This was a seated dinner, and the wedding party was seated at a long head table. I was seated with P.'s family, which was a nice touch since P. and I weren't even engaged. But P.'s grandmother is one of the most disagreeable old ladies I've ever met in my life, and someone who wasn't thinking had seated this two-pack-a-day smoker between two non-smokers. And without coordinating, both of us managed to ask her to move her smoke to the other side of the table. (We were both polite enough not to ask her to put it out, notice.) But I was the second requester (having missed the first) and she blew up at me. I was embarrassed, humiliated, and angry, but I didn't know anyone else present, (except the people obviously having so much fun at the head table) so I couldn't do anything but excuse myself. Due to someone's obnoxious planning, P. was expected to dance first with a bridesmaid, then with his new sister-in-law, then with his mother, then with his awful grandmother, and only then was he excused to either dance with whoever he pleased or not dance at all - so I was left alone and miserable all the way through dinner and for about forty-five minutes afterward. It was one of the worse experiences of my life, actually. (This memory was, by the way, the one that spawned my side of the table argument.)
Now, I'm sure this won't be anywhere near that bad. For one thing, I'm not as emotionally dependant as I used to be, so I'm sure I can survive some time without my husband. And my allergy to smoke isn't as bad as it used to be, and I've figured out since then that no one is going to care if I discreetly move to another seat if the one I'm assigned isn't working out. (Actually, this is a mid-afternoon reception, so I'll be surprised if there are assigned seats at all.)
It's just that I'm a terribly introverted person, and even more so when I don't know anyone I'm trying to talk to. So I worry about things that really aren't that important, like whether I'll find anyone to talk to or dance with or if I'll just spend the whole afternoon sitting in a corner. Stupid, I know, but what can you do?
Anyway, I'm sure I'll feel better when I actually get there. And I've been told that several girlfriends of groomsmen are coming along to the bowling party, so maybe by tomorrow I'll have met some other people to hang around with. I just wanted to whine a little. Just in case.
Thursday, May 6, 1999
So. This morning I killed a spider. It troubled me deeply, but it had been in a lot of pain, and I just had to let it go. No, really, I got up at 4AM to let the cat out, and when I opened the door that leads from our apartment to the building's entryway, there was this enormous spider sitting in the entryway.
How enormous, you ask? Well, give me a second - it was four in the morning, after all, and I want to be completely objective about this. I think it was about a foot and a half across. No, really, it was about an inch and a half, maybe two. Of course I'm counting the legs! When you ask how tall a human is, you count the legs, don't you? When you measure the height of a horse, you count the legs! (Not the head, for reasons I'll never understand, but you do count the legs!) When I measure spiders, I count the legs! Anyway, this is pretty damn big for a spider in these parts. (At least, it's pretty big for the ones that crawl out from under their rocks.) It was raining, so I suspect the spider was just looking for someplace dry to hang out. It chose... Poorly.
Every now and then I am grateful for some of my health problems. For example, the fact that I have problems with my feet means that I slip on my shoes even at 4AM to let the cat out, and therefore I was not confronted with this spider while barefoot. (I was wearing orthopedic sandals, however, which meant my toes were exposed, and so things could have been better.) Anyway, it was just sitting there, so I was hoping I could lean way over to open the outside door and let the cat out, and then I would deal with the spider.
But no.
The cat, in its infinite, catty wisdom, sniffed the spider. This, as I'm sure you can understand, bothered the spider. I'm sure if I just ran into some cave to get out of the rain and a giant nose came down and snuffled at me, I'd do exactly what that spider did: Shriek hysterically and start running in circles. Well, okay, the spider didn't shriek (not that I could hear anyway, but I suppose it might have let out whatever noise spiders let out when they're awakened at 4AM by giant feline noses) but it did start running in circles. And the path of its circle was going to take it straight into my apartment.
This, as I'm sure you understand if you know me at all, is wrong.
So I stepped on it. It was all I could do. The poor thing was suicidal. And it was moving way too fast for me to even attempt to think of anything else. But what else could I have done? Slammed the door on it? That would have trapped my poor cat in the apartment building's entryway. Forever, possibly, because knowing that there was a hysterical spider the size of my fist (okay, the size of a 50-cent piece) lurking in the hallway waiting for me to come out so it could run across my feet with its little spidery legs... Nope. That door was not being opened again. So you see, it's all for the best that I stepped on it before I had time to think about it.
Having been brave enough to actually kill the spider, I then experienced my usual post-spider jitters, and I left it in the entryway and went back to bed, where I had the creepy-crawlies for half an hour or so before managing to fall asleep again. You know, that's one thing that bothers me about spiders. I stepped on the damn thing wearing inch-thick shoes, with a great deal of the force that my not-inconsiderable frame could muster. How come it didn't stay flat? Anything else I stepped on would have made a little buggy pancake, but the spider still managed to retain enough structural integrity to curl up into a ball. Why is that? (No, I do not want you to write me explaining; that was a rhetorical question, dammit!)
Its little carcass was still in the hallway when I let the cat back inside at 6. I stepped carefully around it (the thought of even a completely dead spider touching my skin gives me the heebie-jeebies) and opened the door for the cat. The cat stopped and sniffed at it again, but since it didn't offer an interesting reaction this time, Diamond shrugged (a very cat-like shrug, I assure you) and sauntered back into the apartment. And it was still there at 7:15, when Matt and I left for work. Matt agreed with me that it was an unusually large spider for our area, and carefully, with the edge of his shoe (and while I stood a safe distance away) flipped the spider's body out of the entryway and into the dirt. If he hadn't done that, I'd have had to step around it every time I went through the entryway for the next five days, until the stairwell was cleaned again.
My hero.
How enormous, you ask? Well, give me a second - it was four in the morning, after all, and I want to be completely objective about this. I think it was about a foot and a half across. No, really, it was about an inch and a half, maybe two. Of course I'm counting the legs! When you ask how tall a human is, you count the legs, don't you? When you measure the height of a horse, you count the legs! (Not the head, for reasons I'll never understand, but you do count the legs!) When I measure spiders, I count the legs! Anyway, this is pretty damn big for a spider in these parts. (At least, it's pretty big for the ones that crawl out from under their rocks.) It was raining, so I suspect the spider was just looking for someplace dry to hang out. It chose... Poorly.
Every now and then I am grateful for some of my health problems. For example, the fact that I have problems with my feet means that I slip on my shoes even at 4AM to let the cat out, and therefore I was not confronted with this spider while barefoot. (I was wearing orthopedic sandals, however, which meant my toes were exposed, and so things could have been better.) Anyway, it was just sitting there, so I was hoping I could lean way over to open the outside door and let the cat out, and then I would deal with the spider.
But no.
The cat, in its infinite, catty wisdom, sniffed the spider. This, as I'm sure you can understand, bothered the spider. I'm sure if I just ran into some cave to get out of the rain and a giant nose came down and snuffled at me, I'd do exactly what that spider did: Shriek hysterically and start running in circles. Well, okay, the spider didn't shriek (not that I could hear anyway, but I suppose it might have let out whatever noise spiders let out when they're awakened at 4AM by giant feline noses) but it did start running in circles. And the path of its circle was going to take it straight into my apartment.
This, as I'm sure you understand if you know me at all, is wrong.
So I stepped on it. It was all I could do. The poor thing was suicidal. And it was moving way too fast for me to even attempt to think of anything else. But what else could I have done? Slammed the door on it? That would have trapped my poor cat in the apartment building's entryway. Forever, possibly, because knowing that there was a hysterical spider the size of my fist (okay, the size of a 50-cent piece) lurking in the hallway waiting for me to come out so it could run across my feet with its little spidery legs... Nope. That door was not being opened again. So you see, it's all for the best that I stepped on it before I had time to think about it.
Having been brave enough to actually kill the spider, I then experienced my usual post-spider jitters, and I left it in the entryway and went back to bed, where I had the creepy-crawlies for half an hour or so before managing to fall asleep again. You know, that's one thing that bothers me about spiders. I stepped on the damn thing wearing inch-thick shoes, with a great deal of the force that my not-inconsiderable frame could muster. How come it didn't stay flat? Anything else I stepped on would have made a little buggy pancake, but the spider still managed to retain enough structural integrity to curl up into a ball. Why is that? (No, I do not want you to write me explaining; that was a rhetorical question, dammit!)
Its little carcass was still in the hallway when I let the cat back inside at 6. I stepped carefully around it (the thought of even a completely dead spider touching my skin gives me the heebie-jeebies) and opened the door for the cat. The cat stopped and sniffed at it again, but since it didn't offer an interesting reaction this time, Diamond shrugged (a very cat-like shrug, I assure you) and sauntered back into the apartment. And it was still there at 7:15, when Matt and I left for work. Matt agreed with me that it was an unusually large spider for our area, and carefully, with the edge of his shoe (and while I stood a safe distance away) flipped the spider's body out of the entryway and into the dirt. If he hadn't done that, I'd have had to step around it every time I went through the entryway for the next five days, until the stairwell was cleaned again.
My hero.
Wednesday, May 5, 1999
Archive - 5 May 1999
Dammit, I had a topic in mind for today. What was it? Well, I can't seem to remember, so while I'm thinking about it, you get a diet update. I went to Weight Watchers and lost about a pound and a half, which was good, and I got my 25-pound bookmark, which was great. This week is going to be rough, though. Matt's good friend Tristan is getting married this weekend, so Friday night will be the rehearsal dinner (at a very nice restaurant) and the bachelor party (girls allowed - we're going bowling), and Saturday the wedding itself and the reception, and if we're not too tired we might go to a birthday party Saturday night. I'll have to save a lot of points up and build up a lot of willpower before the weekend hits.
Well, since I can't remember the topic I was thinking of when I was brushing my teeth this morning, I'll talk about gaming, because my brain has been completely occupied with writing a history for my latest Werewolf character lately.
My first introduction to gaming was in high school, when I played in an AD&D game (I trust I don't have to spell out that particular acronym for anyone?) for a few months. To be honest, I don't remember anymore what kind of character I played, though I recall quite clearly that my GM's girlfriend played an elf with "Leaf"-something as part of her name. I remember that because it suited her quite well. Some time that year, I wrote a short story about a group of seven people that was loosely based on the personalities of the seven of us in that group. When my GM read it, he liked it so much that he prodded me to expand it to a novel, and even helped me with it. (I'm pretty sure he never got the mapping of people to names exactly right, since he mapped himself onto the character whose name was similar to his.) Ahem. Back on topic.
After that game broke up, I didn't play any more for a while. After I started college, my boyfriend, P., brought me with him to his gaming group. By this time the second edition of AD&D had been released, and I watched for a few games, uncertain of the new rules. But after a while, to keep me from being bored, they gave me an NPC (non-player character - giving her to me turned her into a PC, of course) to play. I consider her to be my first character, since I can't remember the real first one. This was Brighteyes, and she had a history, which I promptly embellished, and I made her my own. Our gaming group rotated a lot, and the current campaign changed on a near-monthly basis. I played a lot of different characters. Most of my favorites had well-thought-out pasts. I still have character sheets and disks of fiction about Brighteyes, Xi'inith, and S'ayad'i. (I was really into apostrophes for a while; I don't know why.)
My senior year at William and Mary, I was introduced to White Wolf's game, Vampire: The Masquerade. I played Gina, a gypsy girl who had been seduced by a vampire. I wrote up her background story, too, and for a while, tried to write the events of the game as a story as well. (That didn't work as well.) I also flirted with a game or two of Shadowrun, but found it entirely too mercenary for my tastes.
The summer after my senior year, K.T. ran a Palladium Heroes game for Matt and me. I played Danielle, who could become insubstantial and invisible and was a crack shot with a rifle. Even after I left Williamsburg to go to grad school, K.T. continued the Heroes game, and Danielle eventually became the often spoken of but seldom seen leader of the rebellion against the game's arch-villian.
There was a long dry spell while I was at graduate school - I only gamed occasionally when I came back to Williamsburg to visit. Then, about the time I was coming back, Colleen started a Vampire game in which I was going to play a street punk vampire whose best friend was a werewolf. (In the White Wolf gaming system, vampires and werewolves are enemies. Because they're both dark games, tragedies like a werewolf's best friend being turned into a vampire play well.) Matt was playing the werewolf. Our imaginations were so caught up by this couple (were they lovers? No, but the potential was there, if only they could get past worrying that it would screw up their friendship. How did they meet? What did they do for fun? What made them such close friends?) that we wrote a story that eventually expanded into enough written material to fill two novels. (And the story was never finished. Matt got stuck, and we haven't worked on it in years.) In fact, the story continued long after the game itself had stopped.
About a year after Matt and I started dating, we got into a new gaming group, playing the old standby AD&D. With breaks to try Champions and Call of Cthulu, that game ran for two years, though none of my characters took me by force.
Recently, we've been playing Alternity with K.T. as the GM, and we're getting ready to switch to a Werewolf game, and my Werewolf character, Crazy Jenny, has really grabbed my imagination.
I think that's why I play. I love it when a character worms her way (I tried playing a male character once, but everyone kept forgetting.) into my brain and won't get out until I put her story down somewhere. I love to wonder what drove this character to a life of adventure; what personality traits led them to the path they chose. And I love the games, because I'm a terribly competitive person (I quit playing Magic: The Gathering card game because I couldn't stand losing, and I was just terrible at it) and role-playing games are cooperative. It's also a fascinating peek into the minds of your fellow players, especially if you play with them over several games. (Though you have to be careful with your interpretations - some are obvious, and some are not. One friend, M., always always always played drop-dead gorgeous characters, and that was pretty easy to explain, because she was a moderately plain-looking person. But another friend always plays thieves, and I don't think it's because she's got a hidden larcenous streak - it's because in most games, if you have a great deal of dexterity and grace, then thievery is what you're good for. And this friend is a klutz. At least, the dexterity and grace thing is why I play so many thieves. That, and the carefree attitude.)
Another side-track. ::grin:: It's easy to do. Anyway, that's gaming in my life.
Well, since I can't remember the topic I was thinking of when I was brushing my teeth this morning, I'll talk about gaming, because my brain has been completely occupied with writing a history for my latest Werewolf character lately.
My first introduction to gaming was in high school, when I played in an AD&D game (I trust I don't have to spell out that particular acronym for anyone?) for a few months. To be honest, I don't remember anymore what kind of character I played, though I recall quite clearly that my GM's girlfriend played an elf with "Leaf"-something as part of her name. I remember that because it suited her quite well. Some time that year, I wrote a short story about a group of seven people that was loosely based on the personalities of the seven of us in that group. When my GM read it, he liked it so much that he prodded me to expand it to a novel, and even helped me with it. (I'm pretty sure he never got the mapping of people to names exactly right, since he mapped himself onto the character whose name was similar to his.) Ahem. Back on topic.
After that game broke up, I didn't play any more for a while. After I started college, my boyfriend, P., brought me with him to his gaming group. By this time the second edition of AD&D had been released, and I watched for a few games, uncertain of the new rules. But after a while, to keep me from being bored, they gave me an NPC (non-player character - giving her to me turned her into a PC, of course) to play. I consider her to be my first character, since I can't remember the real first one. This was Brighteyes, and she had a history, which I promptly embellished, and I made her my own. Our gaming group rotated a lot, and the current campaign changed on a near-monthly basis. I played a lot of different characters. Most of my favorites had well-thought-out pasts. I still have character sheets and disks of fiction about Brighteyes, Xi'inith, and S'ayad'i. (I was really into apostrophes for a while; I don't know why.)
My senior year at William and Mary, I was introduced to White Wolf's game, Vampire: The Masquerade. I played Gina, a gypsy girl who had been seduced by a vampire. I wrote up her background story, too, and for a while, tried to write the events of the game as a story as well. (That didn't work as well.) I also flirted with a game or two of Shadowrun, but found it entirely too mercenary for my tastes.
The summer after my senior year, K.T. ran a Palladium Heroes game for Matt and me. I played Danielle, who could become insubstantial and invisible and was a crack shot with a rifle. Even after I left Williamsburg to go to grad school, K.T. continued the Heroes game, and Danielle eventually became the often spoken of but seldom seen leader of the rebellion against the game's arch-villian.
There was a long dry spell while I was at graduate school - I only gamed occasionally when I came back to Williamsburg to visit. Then, about the time I was coming back, Colleen started a Vampire game in which I was going to play a street punk vampire whose best friend was a werewolf. (In the White Wolf gaming system, vampires and werewolves are enemies. Because they're both dark games, tragedies like a werewolf's best friend being turned into a vampire play well.) Matt was playing the werewolf. Our imaginations were so caught up by this couple (were they lovers? No, but the potential was there, if only they could get past worrying that it would screw up their friendship. How did they meet? What did they do for fun? What made them such close friends?) that we wrote a story that eventually expanded into enough written material to fill two novels. (And the story was never finished. Matt got stuck, and we haven't worked on it in years.) In fact, the story continued long after the game itself had stopped.
About a year after Matt and I started dating, we got into a new gaming group, playing the old standby AD&D. With breaks to try Champions and Call of Cthulu, that game ran for two years, though none of my characters took me by force.
Recently, we've been playing Alternity with K.T. as the GM, and we're getting ready to switch to a Werewolf game, and my Werewolf character, Crazy Jenny, has really grabbed my imagination.
I think that's why I play. I love it when a character worms her way (I tried playing a male character once, but everyone kept forgetting.) into my brain and won't get out until I put her story down somewhere. I love to wonder what drove this character to a life of adventure; what personality traits led them to the path they chose. And I love the games, because I'm a terribly competitive person (I quit playing Magic: The Gathering card game because I couldn't stand losing, and I was just terrible at it) and role-playing games are cooperative. It's also a fascinating peek into the minds of your fellow players, especially if you play with them over several games. (Though you have to be careful with your interpretations - some are obvious, and some are not. One friend, M., always always always played drop-dead gorgeous characters, and that was pretty easy to explain, because she was a moderately plain-looking person. But another friend always plays thieves, and I don't think it's because she's got a hidden larcenous streak - it's because in most games, if you have a great deal of dexterity and grace, then thievery is what you're good for. And this friend is a klutz. At least, the dexterity and grace thing is why I play so many thieves. That, and the carefree attitude.)
Another side-track. ::grin:: It's easy to do. Anyway, that's gaming in my life.
Tuesday, May 4, 1999
Archive - 4 May 1999
Ack! I forgot my disk today, so I'm having to edit this directly on the server, with Pico instead of some nice graphical interface. Doesn't really seem to make that much difference, so far anyway.
We made it to the gym yesterday and this time I remembered to use less weight on the wrist machine for my left wrist. Maybe I'll just keep using the same weight for the right wrist as the left improves, so eventually I'll be able to use one weight for everything. Matt joined the gym yesterday as well, and Wednesday is his orientation on the weight machines, which means 1) we have to go to the gym Wednesday as well, and 2) we'll be there pretty late Wednesday. (He didn't say what time his orientation was, but it takes about an hour.)
I've got an appointment today with my massage therapist, which is good. Saturday at KT's, I spent about two hours sitting on the floor, which was not good for my back. I've had a persistent ache in the middle of my back ever since. I've never been a big fan of sitting on the floor, but these days it's almost impossible. I simply must be able to lean back against something.
And tonight is Weight Watcher's. I haven't been especially good this week, but I haven't been especially bad, either. So we'll see. I hope I'll finally have broken this plateau I've been on. But I have to remember the new rules! (If I gained more than two pounds, I have to go to the gym!)
::yawn:: I got to sleep all night last night, but it still doesn't seem like enough. I wonder if I'll fall asleep on the massage table. Probably not - some of the deep massage is moderately painful, which makes it hard to sleep through. Hmm. I wonder if I can extend my session to a full hour instead of the half-hour I usually get... It would be worth the extra cost... (And who knows? The insurance company just might cover it.)
This is so boring today... A veritable laundry list of yesterday evening and today. Blah, blah, blah. Oh, well. Days like that happen, right? It's probably a good thing, too.
Have a nice day!
We made it to the gym yesterday and this time I remembered to use less weight on the wrist machine for my left wrist. Maybe I'll just keep using the same weight for the right wrist as the left improves, so eventually I'll be able to use one weight for everything. Matt joined the gym yesterday as well, and Wednesday is his orientation on the weight machines, which means 1) we have to go to the gym Wednesday as well, and 2) we'll be there pretty late Wednesday. (He didn't say what time his orientation was, but it takes about an hour.)
I've got an appointment today with my massage therapist, which is good. Saturday at KT's, I spent about two hours sitting on the floor, which was not good for my back. I've had a persistent ache in the middle of my back ever since. I've never been a big fan of sitting on the floor, but these days it's almost impossible. I simply must be able to lean back against something.
And tonight is Weight Watcher's. I haven't been especially good this week, but I haven't been especially bad, either. So we'll see. I hope I'll finally have broken this plateau I've been on. But I have to remember the new rules! (If I gained more than two pounds, I have to go to the gym!)
::yawn:: I got to sleep all night last night, but it still doesn't seem like enough. I wonder if I'll fall asleep on the massage table. Probably not - some of the deep massage is moderately painful, which makes it hard to sleep through. Hmm. I wonder if I can extend my session to a full hour instead of the half-hour I usually get... It would be worth the extra cost... (And who knows? The insurance company just might cover it.)
This is so boring today... A veritable laundry list of yesterday evening and today. Blah, blah, blah. Oh, well. Days like that happen, right? It's probably a good thing, too.
Have a nice day!
Monday, May 3, 1999
Archive - 3 May 1999
Had a pretty good weekend. Friday night, we went shopping. Matt went to J.C. Penney's and while the clerk he talked to wasn't exactly sure how to ship gifts, she knew that it was possible and was willing to look it up. So that's done. While he was in Penney's, I went to Lane Bryant to pick up some bras, and while I was there I noticed that they had stretch jeans in stock again. (I will only wear stretch jeans. They are so much more comfortable than normal denim.) So, since jeans sizes are weird, I grabbed to pairs to try on - the size I thought I needed, and the next larger size. (Jeans usually run small. I don't know why.) But the size I thought would fit were loose! Whoo-hoo! Of course, they didn't have the next size smaller in stock. ::sigh:: So I still don't have jeans that fit. But it felt good, dammit! And I bought some butterfly clips that are currently The Thing (they'll be gone in a month or so, I'm sure, but I've been seeing them all over the place in the last couple of weeks) so I'm feeling very stylish.
After we went shopping, we went over to K.T.'s and chatted for a while and then we watched Gross Pointe Blank, which was a fun movie. (Quick sum-up, if you've never seen it before: John Cusak plays a hit-man who goes to his 10-year high school reunion.)
Saturday we lazed around the house for a while and then went to K.T.'s again for the bi-weekly game. We wrapped up the Alternity game - and I felt really good about the wrap-up. I actually came up with a plan, dictated it to the others, modified it slightly based on their suggestions, and executed it. And I made it through combat without getting knocked unconscious! (Only just barely, but that counts!) Then we made up characters for the Werewolf game we're going to do next. Joel, who I've started to warm up to, lost ground with me by complaining that he didn't think he'd like the game - but making up a character anyway. (For pete's sake, it's OK if you don't think you'd like a game, but if you're going to try it, don't complain about it!) Somewhere in there, we all went out to dinner. Usually, we order out pizza or send a couple of people to fetch fast food, but we were having trouble deciding and Saturday was K.T.'s birthday anyway, so we went out to eat. Italian food, mmm.
Sunday was nice, too. We had a nice, quiet morning (okay, I had a nice, quiet morning - Matt slept until noon) and then after we got the chores done, we went to my folks' place to visit with them. Mom had put a pot roast in the oven that morning, so she invited us to stay for dinner, and you'd better believe we stayed! I love pot roast, but almost never make it because I don't have a pan big enough for a roast and all the vegetables I like with a roast. And slow-cooking a roast means you need to be home most of the day. (Yeah, I've thought about making it in my crock pot, but the crock pot isn't big enough - again - to hold all the veggies. As far as I'm concerned the only reason you need meat in a pot roast is to flavor the vegetables. I like to make a 1 - 2 pound roast with about 4 pounds of potatoes, carrots, and onions.)
So that was my weekend. I hope yours was good, too!
After we went shopping, we went over to K.T.'s and chatted for a while and then we watched Gross Pointe Blank, which was a fun movie. (Quick sum-up, if you've never seen it before: John Cusak plays a hit-man who goes to his 10-year high school reunion.)
Saturday we lazed around the house for a while and then went to K.T.'s again for the bi-weekly game. We wrapped up the Alternity game - and I felt really good about the wrap-up. I actually came up with a plan, dictated it to the others, modified it slightly based on their suggestions, and executed it. And I made it through combat without getting knocked unconscious! (Only just barely, but that counts!) Then we made up characters for the Werewolf game we're going to do next. Joel, who I've started to warm up to, lost ground with me by complaining that he didn't think he'd like the game - but making up a character anyway. (For pete's sake, it's OK if you don't think you'd like a game, but if you're going to try it, don't complain about it!) Somewhere in there, we all went out to dinner. Usually, we order out pizza or send a couple of people to fetch fast food, but we were having trouble deciding and Saturday was K.T.'s birthday anyway, so we went out to eat. Italian food, mmm.
Sunday was nice, too. We had a nice, quiet morning (okay, I had a nice, quiet morning - Matt slept until noon) and then after we got the chores done, we went to my folks' place to visit with them. Mom had put a pot roast in the oven that morning, so she invited us to stay for dinner, and you'd better believe we stayed! I love pot roast, but almost never make it because I don't have a pan big enough for a roast and all the vegetables I like with a roast. And slow-cooking a roast means you need to be home most of the day. (Yeah, I've thought about making it in my crock pot, but the crock pot isn't big enough - again - to hold all the veggies. As far as I'm concerned the only reason you need meat in a pot roast is to flavor the vegetables. I like to make a 1 - 2 pound roast with about 4 pounds of potatoes, carrots, and onions.)
So that was my weekend. I hope yours was good, too!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)