Naturally, I got everything set up to move over here, and wrote my last, forwarding journal entry for the old address, and out of sheer habit, I logged into the FTP client to upload it, and... it worked. The block that was in place yesterday is not there today, for whatever reason.
Much ado about nothing. But I still think this move is for the best, in the long run, so here we are, for better or worse.
Not that I have much to talk about today, anyway. Alex is starting to get over his cold, so he's sleeping better. He woke up around 3 last night, coughing, but managed to fall asleep again on his own. Whoo!
I think I've managed to convince Penny to trade out Yo Gabba Gabba for Dora the Explorer for her morning TV. I feel better about it; Yo was aimed slightly younger than Penny, say 2 or 3. (Sesame Street is still the only show I've found that works as well for 6-year-olds as it does for toddlers.)
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Monday, July 31, 2000
31 July 2000
Well. This weekend was... busy.
Friday evening, I'd just finished chopping vegetables and meat for stir-fry for dinner when K.T. dropped by to pick up the last two Harry Potter books and give me back my key. She suggested that Matt and I come over to her place and have pizza for dinner, and we could watch a movie or something.
Since a) I've been complaining about wanting to get out more, and b) we'd just been hearing at lunch about the great extras on the Galaxy Quest DVD, we agreed, and I wrapped the stirfry up and put it in the 'fridge for later.
We didn't actually watch Galaxy Quest, just the extras, but it was fun - the cut scenes were hysterical, and the "making of" was pretty good. We sat and talked with K.T. and Kevin for a while, then headed home around eleven when I started feeling sleepy.
When we got home, I sat down at the computer, intending to check my mail and then go to bed. I skimmed through the list mail, then followed a link I'd been sent. I was reading the article when my "mail giggle" went off - I had new mail. Assuming it was more list mail, I pulled up the reader to scan the title and delete it.
But no! It was from Kris! I started to read it, realized she'd probably just sent it, and logged into AIM. Yup, sure enough, there she was. She said hi, and we chatted for a while. Apparently, she was feeling a little insomniac. Excited? Nah.
Saturday was somewhat busy. I weeded the mulch beds, and raked the mulch so it was more evenly distributed. I made meringue kisses for the evening's game, loaded and ran the dishwasher, finished up some details for the game, and ran some errands to the bank and such.
The game was... disappointing. K.T. brought one of my favorite recipes - cherry tomatoes stuffed with tuna - and sandwich fixings, and I set out mayo, mustard, and tomato slices, and we had a good time munching our dinner. Then we started gaming, and I got them into the first combat of the night, which was supposed to be a rough, fast battle.
Heh. It took us two hours. The bad guys couldn't hit. The party couldn't hit. It was almost funny to imagine; bands of tough adventurers standing on the road between farmland and forest, swinging their weapons at each other with about enough strength to hurt a mouse and enough agility to hit a barn. By the time it finally ended, we were really all too tired to get into the business of the town that I'd hoped to get into.
I'm starting to get the impression that my gamers want me to hurry up and wrap this thread up so we can play Matt's 7th Sea game instead.
The other detriment to this particular game was Matt's discovery of ants crawling in through the kitchen window. Everything went on hold for a bit while Matt and I wiped our counters and windowsill down with undiluted bleach. And then we had what Matt calls the psycho-itchies for the rest of the evening.
Sunday, I did more work around the house - finally sanding and painting over several spackled holes in our walls and places where the paint had been chipped or gouged. We made a trip to Lowe's and bought a couple of flags for our flagpole, a towel hook for the bathroom, and a couple of other odds and ends.
We were on our way back from Lowe's, coming up on Pierce's Barbeque, when I saw a car start to pull out of their parking lot onto the two-lane highway, hesitate, and then pull out, turning left to go in the opposite direction from me. I slammed on the brake, and the car went into a skid. (Hello? Anti-lock brakes? What happened?) I turned the wheel, hoping to turn into Pierce's parking lot rather than hit this guy. If he'd hit the gas, he'd have pulled clear. But he'd frozen and hit the brake.
At least my turning avoided any injury - if I hadn't turned, I'd've slammed right into him. As it was, I hit the back-seat door, pushing it in toward the tire well. The impact chewed up my bumper, smashed my headlight, and dented my hood and side panels. I doubt I could get my hood open with a crowbar at this point. I pulled the car the rest of the way into Pierce's parking lot, and he pulled across the street to park on the side of the road, and after verifying that no-one was injured, we exchanged information.
In the aftereffects of adrenaline rush, I didn't want to deal with the hassle of the police. We decided to just let our insurance companies deal with it. On the way home, we realized we really should have called the police - the other guy was completely at fault, even if his view had been severely blocked by cars parked on the side of the road. (Pierce's is a very popular barbeque place.)
Too late now, so I'm trying not to worry about it too much. My car is driveable; I even discovered on the way to work this morning that the headlights and turn signal still work - the covers are just squashed. I'll call the body shop down the road from my house this morning that's affiliated with my insurance company and make arrangements to have an appraisal and get the thing fixed. (Yes, I know I don't have to go to a place affiliated with my insurance company. But they're really the most convenient place anyway.)
So, in the aftereffects of that, Matt and I were both sortof grumpy and snippy as we put up the flag.
We got the mounting bracket and flagpole from my grandparents for Christmas, along with some holiday flags of - to be honest - dubious quality. We sorted out the flags we wouldn't be caught dead flying, and took them to the Miss-Mas party, leaving us with flags for the 4th of July, Hallowe'en, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. A flag pole with no flag looks pretty dumb, so we decided to just leave off installing the flagpole until later.
We didn't get around to putting it up for the 4th of July, since we were out of town just before, and anyway I didn't want to put it up until we'd gotten a non-holiday-specific flag to put up when there wasn't a holiday going on. We discovered that Lowe's has flags purely by accident, but they had a couple we liked, so we went ahead and got them, and now, only seven months later, the flag is finally up.
Around 7, Braz and Kris came over. They'd gotten to town a couple of hours earlier, but wanted to take a shower and change clothes. They're staying in a hotel until they can move into their new house, so I promised Kris the use of our kitchen until they have one of their own. I fixed the postponed stir-fry for them (after adding some more vegetables and another packet or two of chicken) and then we went out for ice cream. We drove by their new house, though we couldn't get a good look in the dark. The neighborhood looks nice, though. I can't wait to see it!
So this week will be nice and busy. I need to call the exterminator to come and take care of the ants. (Luckily, that'll be free, since that's part of our contract with them - they spray once a month, and if there are any incursions, they come out for free.) And I need to call the auto repair shop and take my car in to have it fixed. And Braz and Kris will be over just about every night for dinner. And there's one or two other things going on that I'm not really at liberty to discuss in public yet.
I wanna take a nap.
Word of the Day: opprobrium - something that brings disgrace; public disgrace or ill fame that follows from conduct considered grossly wrong or vicious; contempt, reproach
I hope getting my car fixed won't be too much of a hassle. Driving home after the accident wasn't any fun, with Matt and I both heaping opprobrium upon ourselves for not calling the police. And we'll probably stay tense about it until after the car is fixed.
Friday evening, I'd just finished chopping vegetables and meat for stir-fry for dinner when K.T. dropped by to pick up the last two Harry Potter books and give me back my key. She suggested that Matt and I come over to her place and have pizza for dinner, and we could watch a movie or something.
Since a) I've been complaining about wanting to get out more, and b) we'd just been hearing at lunch about the great extras on the Galaxy Quest DVD, we agreed, and I wrapped the stirfry up and put it in the 'fridge for later.
We didn't actually watch Galaxy Quest, just the extras, but it was fun - the cut scenes were hysterical, and the "making of" was pretty good. We sat and talked with K.T. and Kevin for a while, then headed home around eleven when I started feeling sleepy.
When we got home, I sat down at the computer, intending to check my mail and then go to bed. I skimmed through the list mail, then followed a link I'd been sent. I was reading the article when my "mail giggle" went off - I had new mail. Assuming it was more list mail, I pulled up the reader to scan the title and delete it.
But no! It was from Kris! I started to read it, realized she'd probably just sent it, and logged into AIM. Yup, sure enough, there she was. She said hi, and we chatted for a while. Apparently, she was feeling a little insomniac. Excited? Nah.
Saturday was somewhat busy. I weeded the mulch beds, and raked the mulch so it was more evenly distributed. I made meringue kisses for the evening's game, loaded and ran the dishwasher, finished up some details for the game, and ran some errands to the bank and such.
The game was... disappointing. K.T. brought one of my favorite recipes - cherry tomatoes stuffed with tuna - and sandwich fixings, and I set out mayo, mustard, and tomato slices, and we had a good time munching our dinner. Then we started gaming, and I got them into the first combat of the night, which was supposed to be a rough, fast battle.
Heh. It took us two hours. The bad guys couldn't hit. The party couldn't hit. It was almost funny to imagine; bands of tough adventurers standing on the road between farmland and forest, swinging their weapons at each other with about enough strength to hurt a mouse and enough agility to hit a barn. By the time it finally ended, we were really all too tired to get into the business of the town that I'd hoped to get into.
I'm starting to get the impression that my gamers want me to hurry up and wrap this thread up so we can play Matt's 7th Sea game instead.
The other detriment to this particular game was Matt's discovery of ants crawling in through the kitchen window. Everything went on hold for a bit while Matt and I wiped our counters and windowsill down with undiluted bleach. And then we had what Matt calls the psycho-itchies for the rest of the evening.
Sunday, I did more work around the house - finally sanding and painting over several spackled holes in our walls and places where the paint had been chipped or gouged. We made a trip to Lowe's and bought a couple of flags for our flagpole, a towel hook for the bathroom, and a couple of other odds and ends.
We were on our way back from Lowe's, coming up on Pierce's Barbeque, when I saw a car start to pull out of their parking lot onto the two-lane highway, hesitate, and then pull out, turning left to go in the opposite direction from me. I slammed on the brake, and the car went into a skid. (Hello? Anti-lock brakes? What happened?) I turned the wheel, hoping to turn into Pierce's parking lot rather than hit this guy. If he'd hit the gas, he'd have pulled clear. But he'd frozen and hit the brake.
At least my turning avoided any injury - if I hadn't turned, I'd've slammed right into him. As it was, I hit the back-seat door, pushing it in toward the tire well. The impact chewed up my bumper, smashed my headlight, and dented my hood and side panels. I doubt I could get my hood open with a crowbar at this point. I pulled the car the rest of the way into Pierce's parking lot, and he pulled across the street to park on the side of the road, and after verifying that no-one was injured, we exchanged information.
In the aftereffects of adrenaline rush, I didn't want to deal with the hassle of the police. We decided to just let our insurance companies deal with it. On the way home, we realized we really should have called the police - the other guy was completely at fault, even if his view had been severely blocked by cars parked on the side of the road. (Pierce's is a very popular barbeque place.)
Too late now, so I'm trying not to worry about it too much. My car is driveable; I even discovered on the way to work this morning that the headlights and turn signal still work - the covers are just squashed. I'll call the body shop down the road from my house this morning that's affiliated with my insurance company and make arrangements to have an appraisal and get the thing fixed. (Yes, I know I don't have to go to a place affiliated with my insurance company. But they're really the most convenient place anyway.)
So, in the aftereffects of that, Matt and I were both sortof grumpy and snippy as we put up the flag.
We got the mounting bracket and flagpole from my grandparents for Christmas, along with some holiday flags of - to be honest - dubious quality. We sorted out the flags we wouldn't be caught dead flying, and took them to the Miss-Mas party, leaving us with flags for the 4th of July, Hallowe'en, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. A flag pole with no flag looks pretty dumb, so we decided to just leave off installing the flagpole until later.
We didn't get around to putting it up for the 4th of July, since we were out of town just before, and anyway I didn't want to put it up until we'd gotten a non-holiday-specific flag to put up when there wasn't a holiday going on. We discovered that Lowe's has flags purely by accident, but they had a couple we liked, so we went ahead and got them, and now, only seven months later, the flag is finally up.
Around 7, Braz and Kris came over. They'd gotten to town a couple of hours earlier, but wanted to take a shower and change clothes. They're staying in a hotel until they can move into their new house, so I promised Kris the use of our kitchen until they have one of their own. I fixed the postponed stir-fry for them (after adding some more vegetables and another packet or two of chicken) and then we went out for ice cream. We drove by their new house, though we couldn't get a good look in the dark. The neighborhood looks nice, though. I can't wait to see it!
So this week will be nice and busy. I need to call the exterminator to come and take care of the ants. (Luckily, that'll be free, since that's part of our contract with them - they spray once a month, and if there are any incursions, they come out for free.) And I need to call the auto repair shop and take my car in to have it fixed. And Braz and Kris will be over just about every night for dinner. And there's one or two other things going on that I'm not really at liberty to discuss in public yet.
I wanna take a nap.
Word of the Day: opprobrium - something that brings disgrace; public disgrace or ill fame that follows from conduct considered grossly wrong or vicious; contempt, reproach
I hope getting my car fixed won't be too much of a hassle. Driving home after the accident wasn't any fun, with Matt and I both heaping opprobrium upon ourselves for not calling the police. And we'll probably stay tense about it until after the car is fixed.
Friday, July 28, 2000
28 July 2000
It was the smartest spider I've ever encountered. But, alas, it wasn't smart enough. The really smart spiders wouldn't mess with me at all.
Tuesday I came out to my car in the morning, ready to go to work, and there was a long anchor strand of spiderweb from the driver's side mirror to the window of the back seat. I looked carefully: no spider. So I unlocked the car door and opened it, being moderately creeped out once again by the sheer amount of stretch spiderweb can offer. Spandex? Who needs it?
Wednesday morning I came out to my car and the spider had learned not to anchor its web beyond the crack in the door, and there was a beautiful, complete web stretching from the mirror to the edge of the car door. Again, I looked carefully: no spider. So I lifted one foot, and with a sweeping move that would've done my old karate teacher proud, wiped the web away so I could safely unlock the car.
Yesterday morning, there was no web at all, and I thought perhaps the spider had learnt its lesson and gone away. But around 7 in the evening, Matt ran out of gas for the lawn mower and asked me to run out and get some while he weilded the weed whacker. And as I walked by my car, there was the spider itself, busily building a new web. I called Matt's attention to it. He considered. He didn't think he could get his foot up that high. I could, but I was wearing sandals, and I certainly wasn't going to put bare skin that close to a spider. I turned around, looking for a spare scrap of lumber or something with which to destroy the spider, and heard Matt curse. I turned around, and he shrugged. He'd tried to nab the spider, but it had quickly run back into its hiding place behind my mirror. Oh, well. I rid the car of web and moved on with the evening.
This morning, I approached the car from a wide angle, curious to see if the spider had given up. No, there was a new web this morning, and the spider was hanging out in a most spider-y way right in the middle. But this was the world's smartest spider. It saw us coming. As soon as Matt and I rounded the corner of the car, it hauled its little spider-y ass straight for the mirror.
It didn't go all the way behind the mirror, but just stopped right on the edge, where we could still see it. I'm not sure why. Maybe it wanted to see the way we destroyed the web in an effort to build a better one. Maybe it thought we had a can of Raid with us to spray behind the mirror. Maybe it was just tired of disaster after disaster and secretly wanted to die. I don't know. But my shoe was not going to be able to get to the spider on the corner of the mirror. Maybe it knew that.
But Matt looked at it carefully, then pulled out his keys. "I can get it," he said.
I looked at Matt carefully. "You can?"
He started fiddling with his monstrous Swiss Army Knife. "Yes!" he said excitedly, "For I have... scissors!"
He went to snip the spider in half. Clever spider, it evaded him by repelling from the mirror down to the ground and making a beeline for the dark space under the car. Spiders move fast. Very fast, when they want to. But not fast enough to evade Matt's shoes.
Matt grinned at me. "Stamp... and drag."
I finally got my new glasses. When I'd called Tuesday, they told me they were waiting on a piece they didn't have in stock, and it would probably be Thursday before I got them. Assuming they meant either the frames or one of the lenses, I sighed and resigned myself to wait until Thursday.
Yesterday morning I called to see if they'd be ready by lunchtime or if I'd have to wait until the end of the day. I was told the missing piece had just been delivered, and they were ready as soon as I wanted them. They explained that they'd been waiting for the clip-on sunglasses.
I was about ready to explode. I could've had the glasses on Tuesday, after all. If they'd just told me it was the clip, I'd've told them that I was willing to come back later to pick up the durn sunglasses! Sheesh.
But I like my new glasses. They're wire frames, so they're not as heavy or noticeable as my old glasses. The nosepads are slightly textured, so they don't slip down my nose (though from habit I keep trying to adjust them anyway). And these nosepads are on straight, so they don't make my eyebrows look crooked.
Oh, yeah, and I can see better. All in all, a big improvement.
Well, this is it. This weekend, Braz and Kris are coming to town so Braz can start his new job. They're staying in a hotel next week, because they can't move into their new place until next weekend, but they'll be here!
I'm excited. They're both good friends, and it'll be nice to have friends who actually live here in town. Of course, it means I'll have to start my diet back up, since I promised Kris I'd be her diet buddy, but maybe having a diet buddy will mean I'll actually be able to make some real progress.
I expect we'll be seeing a fair amount of them this week - hotel rooms just aren't exciting places to hang out, and anyway we promised Kris the use of our kitchen until they've moved into their new place.
Cool.
Matt and I take turns preparing meals. Matt pointed out yesterday that I'd got it easy this week - Monday is our "subs" night, Wednesday I just finished cooking the chicken cacciatore he'd started on Tuesday before the Hicks' came over, and "Liz never cooks on Friday!"
Last night, as we were snuggling down to go to sleep he asked, "So, have you decided where we're going out tomorrow?"
Indignant, I replied, "We could eat here!" I got a very dubious look for my trouble. I thought about cooking, shrugged, and said, "Well, we could order pizza, you know!"
Word of the Day: vulcanize - to treat rubber or rubberlike material chemically to give useful properties (as elasticity or strength)
I wonder whatever happened to Heph? (No really, there was a train of thought, there - "vulcanize" comes from the name for the Roman god of fire, Vulcan. Vulcan's Greek counterpart was Hephaestus, the lame god of fire. Our friend Heph - and I have to stop and think to remember his real name was Tom - took his handle from Hephaestus because he only has one leg. See? All perfectly logical. C'mon, you didn't think I was honestly going to find a way to work "vulcanize" into a paragraph or two about my life, did you?)
Tuesday I came out to my car in the morning, ready to go to work, and there was a long anchor strand of spiderweb from the driver's side mirror to the window of the back seat. I looked carefully: no spider. So I unlocked the car door and opened it, being moderately creeped out once again by the sheer amount of stretch spiderweb can offer. Spandex? Who needs it?
Wednesday morning I came out to my car and the spider had learned not to anchor its web beyond the crack in the door, and there was a beautiful, complete web stretching from the mirror to the edge of the car door. Again, I looked carefully: no spider. So I lifted one foot, and with a sweeping move that would've done my old karate teacher proud, wiped the web away so I could safely unlock the car.
Yesterday morning, there was no web at all, and I thought perhaps the spider had learnt its lesson and gone away. But around 7 in the evening, Matt ran out of gas for the lawn mower and asked me to run out and get some while he weilded the weed whacker. And as I walked by my car, there was the spider itself, busily building a new web. I called Matt's attention to it. He considered. He didn't think he could get his foot up that high. I could, but I was wearing sandals, and I certainly wasn't going to put bare skin that close to a spider. I turned around, looking for a spare scrap of lumber or something with which to destroy the spider, and heard Matt curse. I turned around, and he shrugged. He'd tried to nab the spider, but it had quickly run back into its hiding place behind my mirror. Oh, well. I rid the car of web and moved on with the evening.
This morning, I approached the car from a wide angle, curious to see if the spider had given up. No, there was a new web this morning, and the spider was hanging out in a most spider-y way right in the middle. But this was the world's smartest spider. It saw us coming. As soon as Matt and I rounded the corner of the car, it hauled its little spider-y ass straight for the mirror.
It didn't go all the way behind the mirror, but just stopped right on the edge, where we could still see it. I'm not sure why. Maybe it wanted to see the way we destroyed the web in an effort to build a better one. Maybe it thought we had a can of Raid with us to spray behind the mirror. Maybe it was just tired of disaster after disaster and secretly wanted to die. I don't know. But my shoe was not going to be able to get to the spider on the corner of the mirror. Maybe it knew that.
But Matt looked at it carefully, then pulled out his keys. "I can get it," he said.
I looked at Matt carefully. "You can?"
He started fiddling with his monstrous Swiss Army Knife. "Yes!" he said excitedly, "For I have... scissors!"
He went to snip the spider in half. Clever spider, it evaded him by repelling from the mirror down to the ground and making a beeline for the dark space under the car. Spiders move fast. Very fast, when they want to. But not fast enough to evade Matt's shoes.
Matt grinned at me. "Stamp... and drag."
I finally got my new glasses. When I'd called Tuesday, they told me they were waiting on a piece they didn't have in stock, and it would probably be Thursday before I got them. Assuming they meant either the frames or one of the lenses, I sighed and resigned myself to wait until Thursday.
Yesterday morning I called to see if they'd be ready by lunchtime or if I'd have to wait until the end of the day. I was told the missing piece had just been delivered, and they were ready as soon as I wanted them. They explained that they'd been waiting for the clip-on sunglasses.
I was about ready to explode. I could've had the glasses on Tuesday, after all. If they'd just told me it was the clip, I'd've told them that I was willing to come back later to pick up the durn sunglasses! Sheesh.
But I like my new glasses. They're wire frames, so they're not as heavy or noticeable as my old glasses. The nosepads are slightly textured, so they don't slip down my nose (though from habit I keep trying to adjust them anyway). And these nosepads are on straight, so they don't make my eyebrows look crooked.
Oh, yeah, and I can see better. All in all, a big improvement.
Well, this is it. This weekend, Braz and Kris are coming to town so Braz can start his new job. They're staying in a hotel next week, because they can't move into their new place until next weekend, but they'll be here!
I'm excited. They're both good friends, and it'll be nice to have friends who actually live here in town. Of course, it means I'll have to start my diet back up, since I promised Kris I'd be her diet buddy, but maybe having a diet buddy will mean I'll actually be able to make some real progress.
I expect we'll be seeing a fair amount of them this week - hotel rooms just aren't exciting places to hang out, and anyway we promised Kris the use of our kitchen until they've moved into their new place.
Cool.
Matt and I take turns preparing meals. Matt pointed out yesterday that I'd got it easy this week - Monday is our "subs" night, Wednesday I just finished cooking the chicken cacciatore he'd started on Tuesday before the Hicks' came over, and "Liz never cooks on Friday!"
Last night, as we were snuggling down to go to sleep he asked, "So, have you decided where we're going out tomorrow?"
Indignant, I replied, "We could eat here!" I got a very dubious look for my trouble. I thought about cooking, shrugged, and said, "Well, we could order pizza, you know!"
Word of the Day: vulcanize - to treat rubber or rubberlike material chemically to give useful properties (as elasticity or strength)
I wonder whatever happened to Heph? (No really, there was a train of thought, there - "vulcanize" comes from the name for the Roman god of fire, Vulcan. Vulcan's Greek counterpart was Hephaestus, the lame god of fire. Our friend Heph - and I have to stop and think to remember his real name was Tom - took his handle from Hephaestus because he only has one leg. See? All perfectly logical. C'mon, you didn't think I was honestly going to find a way to work "vulcanize" into a paragraph or two about my life, did you?)
Thursday, July 27, 2000
27 July 2000
When we were on vacation last week, I swear I saw more fishermen on the airplanes than I've ever seen before in my entire life. At first I had no idea what these long tubes were, or why they were allowed as carry-on, or why their carriers couldn't at least be more careful with them - I almost got smashed in the face by them at least twice.
On the way to Montana, I overheard a couple of them talking and figured out that they were on a fishing holiday, and deduced that the tubes held their poles. I'm still not sure why they couldn't have been checked; they seemed sturdy enough. But at least I knew what they were.
What astonished me was how many of them I saw. It seemed like practically every other person in the airport was lugging one of these tubes, ranging from cheap cardboard tubes to expensive-looking ones of brushed aluminum with built-in handles. And I would swear to you if you asked me that I have never seen these tubes before in an airport... Which confused me most of all.
Is it just that I haven't flown in the summer much? Or is the tube-carrier a recent innovation in the fishing world? Or was that the opening week for some popular places? I don't know. I didn't ask.
I was too busy trying not to get smashed in the face.
I was sortof proud of myself last night. I'm not officially dieting at the moment, though I've promised Kris that when she and Braz get here, I'll be her diet buddy. But what I'm doing right now is attempting to eat sensibly. Scary thought, I know.
So what I did last night was pretty astonishing, for me. I went rummaging through the house looking for a snack. I didn't want the cherry tomatoes or carrots in the fridge, and our place is usually pretty devoid of snack foods... I opened the pantry, and found myself face-to-face with my half-box of Girl Scout peanut butter cookies. I don't know why they hadn't already been eaten.
I pulled the remaining tube out of the box, got myself a can of diet ginger ale (don't make that face - diet Northern Neck beats regular Seagram's any day) and a book, and tromped upstairs to sit on the computer and chat.
Between chatting with K.T., Jeff, Karen, and Kris online and skimming the first chapter of the book, I only ate three cookies. And when I'd eaten the third cookie, I wrapped up the package and didn't touch it again. I was only barely tempted, even!
And then, to make things even better, I'd intended to have some popcorn while I watched Sex and the City on HBO, but it was a re-run of the show I'd seen on Sunday. I thought about making some popcorn anyway and reading a few chapters of the book, but decided no - I should go to bed early, since I've been so exhausted all week.
I'm proud of me.
Word of the Day: sensibility - the emotion or feeling of which a person is capable; refined or excessive sensitiveness in emotion and taste
Is it just like me to go on vacation and come home with a bunch of books, or what?
Actually, I didn't. But I wanted to. I added a few of them to my wishlist, in fact. The book about the Fairy Castle at the Museum of Science and Industry I would've bought, if I'd seen it in the museum gift shop. Jill found it, but not until I was already through the line, and she only found the one copy. And Gramma and Grampa Brooks had a coffee-table book by Guinness Records highlighting every year of the 20th century in news and factoids that I'd have stolen if I could.
The other book I saw in the gift shop at the Montana airport, as I was picking out some huckleberry candy to take with me. (Montana is big on huckleberries. Don't ask.) Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Old West. I don't want to offend anyone's delicate sensibilities, but I'm fascinated by that kind of thing - not sexually, but culturally. You can learn a lot about a culture by examining its seedier underbelly. But I thought about it, figured Matt would tease me unmercifully, and decided against it. When I sat back down with my little bag of candy, I told him, "I almost bought a book."
He'd been in the gift shop with me for a bit, looking for a magazine. "Soiled Doves?" he asked.
I stared at him. "Well... Yeah."
"I figured that was your kind of book," he laughed.
Well. If he's going to tease me for it anyway, I might as well buy it! Right?
On the way to Montana, I overheard a couple of them talking and figured out that they were on a fishing holiday, and deduced that the tubes held their poles. I'm still not sure why they couldn't have been checked; they seemed sturdy enough. But at least I knew what they were.
What astonished me was how many of them I saw. It seemed like practically every other person in the airport was lugging one of these tubes, ranging from cheap cardboard tubes to expensive-looking ones of brushed aluminum with built-in handles. And I would swear to you if you asked me that I have never seen these tubes before in an airport... Which confused me most of all.
Is it just that I haven't flown in the summer much? Or is the tube-carrier a recent innovation in the fishing world? Or was that the opening week for some popular places? I don't know. I didn't ask.
I was too busy trying not to get smashed in the face.
I was sortof proud of myself last night. I'm not officially dieting at the moment, though I've promised Kris that when she and Braz get here, I'll be her diet buddy. But what I'm doing right now is attempting to eat sensibly. Scary thought, I know.
So what I did last night was pretty astonishing, for me. I went rummaging through the house looking for a snack. I didn't want the cherry tomatoes or carrots in the fridge, and our place is usually pretty devoid of snack foods... I opened the pantry, and found myself face-to-face with my half-box of Girl Scout peanut butter cookies. I don't know why they hadn't already been eaten.
I pulled the remaining tube out of the box, got myself a can of diet ginger ale (don't make that face - diet Northern Neck beats regular Seagram's any day) and a book, and tromped upstairs to sit on the computer and chat.
Between chatting with K.T., Jeff, Karen, and Kris online and skimming the first chapter of the book, I only ate three cookies. And when I'd eaten the third cookie, I wrapped up the package and didn't touch it again. I was only barely tempted, even!
And then, to make things even better, I'd intended to have some popcorn while I watched Sex and the City on HBO, but it was a re-run of the show I'd seen on Sunday. I thought about making some popcorn anyway and reading a few chapters of the book, but decided no - I should go to bed early, since I've been so exhausted all week.
I'm proud of me.
Word of the Day: sensibility - the emotion or feeling of which a person is capable; refined or excessive sensitiveness in emotion and taste
Is it just like me to go on vacation and come home with a bunch of books, or what?
Actually, I didn't. But I wanted to. I added a few of them to my wishlist, in fact. The book about the Fairy Castle at the Museum of Science and Industry I would've bought, if I'd seen it in the museum gift shop. Jill found it, but not until I was already through the line, and she only found the one copy. And Gramma and Grampa Brooks had a coffee-table book by Guinness Records highlighting every year of the 20th century in news and factoids that I'd have stolen if I could.
The other book I saw in the gift shop at the Montana airport, as I was picking out some huckleberry candy to take with me. (Montana is big on huckleberries. Don't ask.) Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Old West. I don't want to offend anyone's delicate sensibilities, but I'm fascinated by that kind of thing - not sexually, but culturally. You can learn a lot about a culture by examining its seedier underbelly. But I thought about it, figured Matt would tease me unmercifully, and decided against it. When I sat back down with my little bag of candy, I told him, "I almost bought a book."
He'd been in the gift shop with me for a bit, looking for a magazine. "Soiled Doves?" he asked.
I stared at him. "Well... Yeah."
"I figured that was your kind of book," he laughed.
Well. If he's going to tease me for it anyway, I might as well buy it! Right?
Wednesday, July 26, 2000
26 July 2000
We had dinner last night with K.T. and Kevin - we wanted to thank K.T. for feeding the cat while we were gone (and Kevin for scrounging for rides so K.T. could feed the cat) so we had dinner at Second Street. K.T. had suggested trying a new place they'd heard of, called Quizno's, but it took so long for us to find it on the map and figure out how to get to it that Kevin suggested we go someplace we could actually find and save the experiments for some time when he wasn't starving.
Dinner was interesting. Our waitress was so perky and bouncy we were debating at one point just what drugs she was probably on. And sitting not far from us was a woman wearing a tube-top, her arms angled to hide it, so that at first glance it looked like she was sitting there naked. As Matt put it, "I know I didn't see what I think I just saw. I just need to confirm that I didn't see what I think I just saw."
Argh. My new glasses won't be ready until tomorrow. I was hoping they'd be ready today. Having ordered them, I'm sortof eager to get them - they'll be much lighter than the current ones, less scratched, and more stylish.
Oh, I finally got the pictures from our trip up! The pictures from Chicago are in with the rest of the July pictures, while the wedding pictures are in their own section.
I've been making minor changes all over the website in the last day or so, or at least coming up with ideas for changes. For example, on my page of other journals, I'm adding excerpts from each of the other journals, so you can get a feel for them before reading. On the people page, I'll be adding links not only to their web pages where possible, but to pictures of them in the photo album and/or journal entries where they're mentioned. If you have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them!
Okay, there was some discussion about this at dinner last night. Apparently, a few of the "big" journalists have added a link to their pages to allow interested readers to make a donation to them, and this has caused a big stink in the journalling community.
Well, that's hardly surprising. The question of whether or not the sun rises in the east has been known to raise a big stink in the journalling community. Journalists are highly excitable, opinionated people.
I had noticed the button just yesterday on one of the journals I read, shook my head, shrugged, and ignored it. I have no intention of paying to read a journal or of giving gifts to someone I'm not personally friends with, but if other readers want to do so, that's fine with me.
I do find it sortof funny that it's causing such a ruckus. One of the few things most online journalists agree on is freedom of speech, and if you complained about an offensive song or TV show, they'd probably be among the first to tell you that you don't have to listen or watch. But these small, inoffensive, and easily ignorable links are apparently driving people mad.
(I say apparently because I unsubscribed from all the journal and diary mailing lists a while back when I couldn't take the childishness any longer, so I'm getting this all secondhand.) Oh, well. Not being one of the "big" journals, I certainly don't expect gifts from my readers. (Heck, I don't even get e-mail most months!) But just in case you were wondering, I do have a wishlist. ;-)
Word of the Day: Kafkaesque - suggestive of Franz Kafka or his writings; esp. having a nightmarishly complex, bizarre, or illogical quality
I was grateful when the cat woke me up this morning at 3 am. It doesn't happen often, but last night my dreams were filled with strange, Kafkaesque scenes of me wandering endlessly through the sterile hallways of an office building, looking for Quizno's. When I finally found it, it was crammed behind a photocopy machine in a room hardly big enough for three people, and the subs were all pre-built and stuffed in a cooler with no bottom, and I was just about to climb into the cooler in search of cheddar cheese to replace the swiss when the cat woke me up.
No, I don't get it, either.
Dinner was interesting. Our waitress was so perky and bouncy we were debating at one point just what drugs she was probably on. And sitting not far from us was a woman wearing a tube-top, her arms angled to hide it, so that at first glance it looked like she was sitting there naked. As Matt put it, "I know I didn't see what I think I just saw. I just need to confirm that I didn't see what I think I just saw."
Argh. My new glasses won't be ready until tomorrow. I was hoping they'd be ready today. Having ordered them, I'm sortof eager to get them - they'll be much lighter than the current ones, less scratched, and more stylish.
Oh, I finally got the pictures from our trip up! The pictures from Chicago are in with the rest of the July pictures, while the wedding pictures are in their own section.
I've been making minor changes all over the website in the last day or so, or at least coming up with ideas for changes. For example, on my page of other journals, I'm adding excerpts from each of the other journals, so you can get a feel for them before reading. On the people page, I'll be adding links not only to their web pages where possible, but to pictures of them in the photo album and/or journal entries where they're mentioned. If you have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them!
Okay, there was some discussion about this at dinner last night. Apparently, a few of the "big" journalists have added a link to their pages to allow interested readers to make a donation to them, and this has caused a big stink in the journalling community.
Well, that's hardly surprising. The question of whether or not the sun rises in the east has been known to raise a big stink in the journalling community. Journalists are highly excitable, opinionated people.
I had noticed the button just yesterday on one of the journals I read, shook my head, shrugged, and ignored it. I have no intention of paying to read a journal or of giving gifts to someone I'm not personally friends with, but if other readers want to do so, that's fine with me.
I do find it sortof funny that it's causing such a ruckus. One of the few things most online journalists agree on is freedom of speech, and if you complained about an offensive song or TV show, they'd probably be among the first to tell you that you don't have to listen or watch. But these small, inoffensive, and easily ignorable links are apparently driving people mad.
(I say apparently because I unsubscribed from all the journal and diary mailing lists a while back when I couldn't take the childishness any longer, so I'm getting this all secondhand.) Oh, well. Not being one of the "big" journals, I certainly don't expect gifts from my readers. (Heck, I don't even get e-mail most months!) But just in case you were wondering, I do have a wishlist. ;-)
Word of the Day: Kafkaesque - suggestive of Franz Kafka or his writings; esp. having a nightmarishly complex, bizarre, or illogical quality
I was grateful when the cat woke me up this morning at 3 am. It doesn't happen often, but last night my dreams were filled with strange, Kafkaesque scenes of me wandering endlessly through the sterile hallways of an office building, looking for Quizno's. When I finally found it, it was crammed behind a photocopy machine in a room hardly big enough for three people, and the subs were all pre-built and stuffed in a cooler with no bottom, and I was just about to climb into the cooler in search of cheddar cheese to replace the swiss when the cat woke me up.
No, I don't get it, either.
Tuesday, July 25, 2000
25 July 2000
On Friday, our last full day in Chicago, while I was standing around with Matt and Grampa Brooks talking to the people giving us the corn, I took my glasses off to clean them on my shirt. They really were awful. I wiped down the right lens, then braced the frames against my stomach while I went after the left.
I wasn't looking at the glasses, but at the people talking. I felt the glasses fold under my hands. My first thought was that the temple had simply folded in, but that couldn't be right... I looked down.
My glasses had broken in half, snapped cleanly at the center of the bridge.
Luckily, I really only need my glasses for reading, working on the computer, and driving. I can see just fine for anything else. (I can even read and work on the computer without them, but it gives me a bit of a headache.) I laughed over the strangeness of it, showed the pieces to Matt and Grampa, and didn't worry about it too much. I figured I'd repair them with crazy glue and/or tape when we got back to Gramma and Grampa's house - I'd look like the quintessential nerd, but it would do until I got back to Williamsburg and could make an appointment with an optometrist. (It's been two or three years since my last vision checkup anyway, so it was overdue.)
Grampa went one better: He soldered my glasses back together. It's not very pretty, but it's holding them together pretty well. I still called an optometrist yesterday, and they had room to squeeze me in yesterday afternoon.
The machine that tests peripheral vision was kindof strange. I'd done one of these tests before, so I knew more or less what to expect, but this one talked to me as I punched the little clicker. Click... click... click... "You're doing fine." Click... click... click... click... "You're doing great!" Click... click... click... "Almost done." It said something about every twenty clicks, and I clicked almost a hundred times for each side.
(By the way, the doctor told me I have excellent peripheral vision.)
I'm an extremely low risk for whatever it is they check when they dialate your eyes, so he didn't dialate mine, which was fine with me. I hate those drops they use for that - it stings. He did put in some drops to numb my eyes, for the glaucoma test, and that about killed me. I hate having anything even near my eyes (I have to close my eyes to put my glasses on, and put drops in the corner of my eyes and let them wash over, rather than right into the eye) and the glaucoma test involves touching this little rod thing right to the iris of your eye. It didn't hurt (that's what the numbing drops are for) but he had to try about twelve times before he could get through my wince. I was right on the verge of full panic mode. My last eye doctor had a test that used a puff of air. That was physically less pleasant, but didn't invoke my eye fear. (Nope. No contacts for me.)
In any case, he implied that wearing my glasses all the time instead of just for reading and using the computer had made my vision worse, and told me my current glasses were actually a little too strong for far-sight activities like driving. The astigmatism in my left eye has gotten significantly worse, so he changed my prescription, and sent me out to talk to the people with the frames.
The lady sat me at a table while I was still rubbing the numbness in my eyes, and asked what I wanted. "Well," I told her, "I want something smaller and lighter than what I've currently got, I'm very interested in clip-on sunglasses, and I'm allergic to metals." I thought this would be a tall order.
"Oh, you're going to be easy!" she exclaimed, and went off to collect some frames for me to try.
She came back with about half a dozen titanium frames. I commented on the expense, and she nodded sympathetically, but explained that the clip-on sunglasses only come on wire frames, not plastic ones, and promised that the titanium wouldn't trigger my allergies or break nearly as easily as my current set did.
Well, okay. I'd hated painting fingernail polish on the metal parts of my glasses anyway. I narrowed down the bunch she brought me until I'd picked out the ones I thought looked the best. $309. Before lenses.
In the meantime, the lady behind the counter can't get my insurance company's automated system to recognize my social security number. I had to pay up front for everything, and then file a claim with my insurance company to get back whatever I can. (My insurance does cover glasses - a pair of frames every two years and a pair of lenses every year, up to $200, I think.) All I can say is, the insurance company had bloody well better pay up. They increased my premiums last month.
Word of the Day: leitmotiv - a dominant recurring theme; in music, a recurring phrase associated with a person or idea, esp. in Wagnerian drama.
Well, there you go. Eyes have been the leitmotiv of this journal since I started it, and now I've done an entire entry on my eyes. Hope you've enjoyed the redundancy. (By the way, in case you're wondering, I completely forgot to get any pictures to expand the Other Eyes page while I was on vacation. Every time I remembered it, it was an inconvenient time, and then I forgot again by the time it was convenient. Argh.)
I wasn't looking at the glasses, but at the people talking. I felt the glasses fold under my hands. My first thought was that the temple had simply folded in, but that couldn't be right... I looked down.
My glasses had broken in half, snapped cleanly at the center of the bridge.
Luckily, I really only need my glasses for reading, working on the computer, and driving. I can see just fine for anything else. (I can even read and work on the computer without them, but it gives me a bit of a headache.) I laughed over the strangeness of it, showed the pieces to Matt and Grampa, and didn't worry about it too much. I figured I'd repair them with crazy glue and/or tape when we got back to Gramma and Grampa's house - I'd look like the quintessential nerd, but it would do until I got back to Williamsburg and could make an appointment with an optometrist. (It's been two or three years since my last vision checkup anyway, so it was overdue.)
Grampa went one better: He soldered my glasses back together. It's not very pretty, but it's holding them together pretty well. I still called an optometrist yesterday, and they had room to squeeze me in yesterday afternoon.
The machine that tests peripheral vision was kindof strange. I'd done one of these tests before, so I knew more or less what to expect, but this one talked to me as I punched the little clicker. Click... click... click... "You're doing fine." Click... click... click... click... "You're doing great!" Click... click... click... "Almost done." It said something about every twenty clicks, and I clicked almost a hundred times for each side.
(By the way, the doctor told me I have excellent peripheral vision.)
I'm an extremely low risk for whatever it is they check when they dialate your eyes, so he didn't dialate mine, which was fine with me. I hate those drops they use for that - it stings. He did put in some drops to numb my eyes, for the glaucoma test, and that about killed me. I hate having anything even near my eyes (I have to close my eyes to put my glasses on, and put drops in the corner of my eyes and let them wash over, rather than right into the eye) and the glaucoma test involves touching this little rod thing right to the iris of your eye. It didn't hurt (that's what the numbing drops are for) but he had to try about twelve times before he could get through my wince. I was right on the verge of full panic mode. My last eye doctor had a test that used a puff of air. That was physically less pleasant, but didn't invoke my eye fear. (Nope. No contacts for me.)
In any case, he implied that wearing my glasses all the time instead of just for reading and using the computer had made my vision worse, and told me my current glasses were actually a little too strong for far-sight activities like driving. The astigmatism in my left eye has gotten significantly worse, so he changed my prescription, and sent me out to talk to the people with the frames.
The lady sat me at a table while I was still rubbing the numbness in my eyes, and asked what I wanted. "Well," I told her, "I want something smaller and lighter than what I've currently got, I'm very interested in clip-on sunglasses, and I'm allergic to metals." I thought this would be a tall order.
"Oh, you're going to be easy!" she exclaimed, and went off to collect some frames for me to try.
She came back with about half a dozen titanium frames. I commented on the expense, and she nodded sympathetically, but explained that the clip-on sunglasses only come on wire frames, not plastic ones, and promised that the titanium wouldn't trigger my allergies or break nearly as easily as my current set did.
Well, okay. I'd hated painting fingernail polish on the metal parts of my glasses anyway. I narrowed down the bunch she brought me until I'd picked out the ones I thought looked the best. $309. Before lenses.
In the meantime, the lady behind the counter can't get my insurance company's automated system to recognize my social security number. I had to pay up front for everything, and then file a claim with my insurance company to get back whatever I can. (My insurance does cover glasses - a pair of frames every two years and a pair of lenses every year, up to $200, I think.) All I can say is, the insurance company had bloody well better pay up. They increased my premiums last month.
Word of the Day: leitmotiv - a dominant recurring theme; in music, a recurring phrase associated with a person or idea, esp. in Wagnerian drama.
Well, there you go. Eyes have been the leitmotiv of this journal since I started it, and now I've done an entire entry on my eyes. Hope you've enjoyed the redundancy. (By the way, in case you're wondering, I completely forgot to get any pictures to expand the Other Eyes page while I was on vacation. Every time I remembered it, it was an inconvenient time, and then I forgot again by the time it was convenient. Argh.)
Monday, July 24, 2000
24 July 2000
So, to continue... We spent most of Sunday travelling to Chicago. The airport in Montana, which we'd been too tired to take much note of when we'd arrived, was a treat - deer, moose, elk, and goat heads mounted on the walls, and an enormous black bear stuffed and displayed in a case near the escalators. It was also such a small airport that they wouldn't even let us go back to our gate until just before boarding.
We spent the day in transit, and wound up at Gramma and Grampa Brooks' house by about 9:30 that evening. We spent Monday and Tuesday relaxing and recovering from the hectic busybusy of the wedding. We went out to dinner with Matt's dad and his ladyfriend on Monday to a good Italian place, then on Tuesday with Gramma, Grampa, and Matt's Uncle Larry and Aunt Debbie. After that dinner, we were dropped off at Matt's mom's house so we could get an early start the next morning.
Jill, cleaning her closets, had found a box full of Matt's old schoolwork and such, and we had a fun time reading little stories he'd written and looking at pictures he'd drawn. Just that morning, Gramma had shown us a picture of Matt at the age of about three or four, and I'd teased him all day about his cute little chubby cheeks. This collection of first or second-grade schoolwork only added to the fun.
Wednesday morning, Jill woke us up early and we headed for the train into Chicago proper. Just outside the train station, we took a bus to a spot near the Field Museum.
The first thing we saw when we entered the museum was Sue, the largest and most complete specimen of Tyrannasaurus rex ever found. As I gaped at the huge skeleton and marvelled at the sheer age of the thing, Matt overheard some woman say to her kids, "I don't see what the big deal is. It doesn't look that big!" Lady, take a look at that ribcage! You wouldn't even be a snack! If you added enamel back to those teeth, they'd be bigger than bananas!
Oh, well, there's just no pleasing some people, I guess.
The Field Museum was also hosting a Star Wars exhibit, which we thought was a show, but turned out to be several rooms of production props, costumes, and concept drawings, highlighted by plaques on the walls discussing the elements of myth in the movies. It was interesting, and of course I took a lot of pictures.
We could easily have spent the rest of the day in the Field Museum, but we wanted to also take in the Museum of Science and Industry, which Matt had assured me was loads of fun. We took another bus, and wound up stopping for lunch at a little Italian place that turned out to be a real find. Too bad I can't remember the name, now!
The MoSI was hosting an exhibition on the Titanic that would probably have been amazing, but we didn't think we'd have time to see it and any of the rest of the museum. We looked at paintings that seemed to move; gadgets and gizmos galore; a beautiful, enormous fairy castle; a model of the human heart big enough to walk through; the whispering gallery; a ton of hands-on demonstrations; an animated circus; and tons more stuff. We didn't get to appreciate even half the museum, I'm sure.
On the way back to the train station, we stopped at the popcorn store for some caramel corn. I was thrilled to learn that they have a website and online ordering. Now I won't have to wait a year and a half to satisfy my cravings!
Thursday we got up a little later, and drove into Chicago instead of taking the train. We parked a couple of blocks from Matt's sister's apartment, and walked about half a mile to Wrigley Field. I've only ever been to one live baseball game before, and never a major league game, and we thought it would be fun.
We had great seats - close to the field and just a twitch past third base - and a great view of everything. We got there in time to watch the Phillies' batting practice and to have a couple of hot dogs for lunch. Of the five runs scored that game, four of them were home runs! Matt says I got the true "Cubbie" experience - they lost. But the final score was 3-2, so at least they put up a fight!
To add to the fun, it was Free T-Shirt Day, so I was handed a t-shirt as we walked into the stadium. That meant I didn't have to pay for a souvenier! Matt bought a program and scorecard, and kept score through the whole game. He teased me later, opening it up to show a grid of mostly gibberish, "Look! You can relive the whole game!"
After the game, we walked back to Rachael's apartment and picked her up, then walked about halfway back to Wrigley Field to have dinner at an Italian restaurant called Leona's. While we were looking over the menu, the worse of my feet surprised me with a charlie horse in the arch. I curled up behind my menu and tried not to make a lot of noise. I wound up being embarrassed anyway, though. I always feel obsessively inadequate around Matt's sister.
Oh, well. The pain subsided after a bit, and retreated a bit further after I took a couple of ibuprofen. I calmed down enough to enjoy dinner, and even laughed as Matt teased his sister by ordering dessert. (Um... No, that probably doesn't make sense. Don't worry about it.)
Friday, courtesy of Matt's brother Evan, we went to the movies to see X-Men. I'd been expecting to enjoy the special effects, but I was pleasantly surprised to enjoy the plot as well. There were enough in-jokes that I caught that I'm sure there were plenty more for avid readers of the comic. ("We actually wear this?" "What would you prefer? Yellow spandex?") I loved it that the "villian" honestly thought he was trying to help, and that the romantic interests didn't all line up neatly and resolve by the end of the movie. I also thought it was nice that the "good guys" didn't all work perfectly together; that they had their quibbles and arguments. I enjoyed the fact that the movie didn't take itself too seriously.
Evan told us after the movie that the guy who played the Toad was the same actor who'd played Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace - and that the scene where he pulls a pipe out of the elevator doors and spins it in his hands was closely choreographed to mimic the light saber duel in TPM. I thought that was funny.
Of course, they left it wide open for a sequel. If they do one, I'll probably go see it.
After the movie, Jill took us back to Matt's grandparents' house, where we relaxed some more and repacked our bags. Matt's cousin Tina came over for dinner to see us, which was nice. Grampa Brooks did some work for a farmer down the road a bit some time ago for free, in return for fresh corn whenever he wants it. He called down to the farm to see if any was in, and then he, Matt, and I drove over to pick up what was probably two or three dozen ears of corn.
I love corn, so I was thrilled. I six pieces with dinner, and probably could've had one or two more if I hadn't also had potatoes, ribs, green beans, and fruit salad! We had a good time talking with Tina about her work (she's a jeweler) and all sorts of other things.
Saturday we flew back to D.C., and then drove home. It seems we never get to spend enough time with the family in Chicago, but it was good to get back to our house and to see the cat. Not to mention sleeping in our own bed and showering in our own shower. We weren't as happy to have to do the laundry, though!
Now I'm back at work, and I can't log into my computer. It should have been a simple problem - my password expired while I was gone. I called the sysadmin and she changed it for me. But now it's an hour and a half later, and I still can't get in. I'm logged in as administrator for now, but I won't be able to get my e-mail until she checks it.
Yup. I'm back.
We spent the day in transit, and wound up at Gramma and Grampa Brooks' house by about 9:30 that evening. We spent Monday and Tuesday relaxing and recovering from the hectic busybusy of the wedding. We went out to dinner with Matt's dad and his ladyfriend on Monday to a good Italian place, then on Tuesday with Gramma, Grampa, and Matt's Uncle Larry and Aunt Debbie. After that dinner, we were dropped off at Matt's mom's house so we could get an early start the next morning.
Jill, cleaning her closets, had found a box full of Matt's old schoolwork and such, and we had a fun time reading little stories he'd written and looking at pictures he'd drawn. Just that morning, Gramma had shown us a picture of Matt at the age of about three or four, and I'd teased him all day about his cute little chubby cheeks. This collection of first or second-grade schoolwork only added to the fun.
Wednesday morning, Jill woke us up early and we headed for the train into Chicago proper. Just outside the train station, we took a bus to a spot near the Field Museum.
The first thing we saw when we entered the museum was Sue, the largest and most complete specimen of Tyrannasaurus rex ever found. As I gaped at the huge skeleton and marvelled at the sheer age of the thing, Matt overheard some woman say to her kids, "I don't see what the big deal is. It doesn't look that big!" Lady, take a look at that ribcage! You wouldn't even be a snack! If you added enamel back to those teeth, they'd be bigger than bananas! Oh, well, there's just no pleasing some people, I guess.
The Field Museum was also hosting a Star Wars exhibit, which we thought was a show, but turned out to be several rooms of production props, costumes, and concept drawings, highlighted by plaques on the walls discussing the elements of myth in the movies. It was interesting, and of course I took a lot of pictures. We could easily have spent the rest of the day in the Field Museum, but we wanted to also take in the Museum of Science and Industry, which Matt had assured me was loads of fun. We took another bus, and wound up stopping for lunch at a little Italian place that turned out to be a real find. Too bad I can't remember the name, now!
The MoSI was hosting an exhibition on the Titanic that would probably have been amazing, but we didn't think we'd have time to see it and any of the rest of the museum. We looked at paintings that seemed to move; gadgets and gizmos galore; a beautiful, enormous fairy castle; a model of the human heart big enough to walk through; the whispering gallery; a ton of hands-on demonstrations; an animated circus; and tons more stuff. We didn't get to appreciate even half the museum, I'm sure. On the way back to the train station, we stopped at the popcorn store for some caramel corn. I was thrilled to learn that they have a website and online ordering. Now I won't have to wait a year and a half to satisfy my cravings!
Thursday we got up a little later, and drove into Chicago instead of taking the train. We parked a couple of blocks from Matt's sister's apartment, and walked about half a mile to Wrigley Field. I've only ever been to one live baseball game before, and never a major league game, and we thought it would be fun. We had great seats - close to the field and just a twitch past third base - and a great view of everything. We got there in time to watch the Phillies' batting practice and to have a couple of hot dogs for lunch. Of the five runs scored that game, four of them were home runs! Matt says I got the true "Cubbie" experience - they lost. But the final score was 3-2, so at least they put up a fight! To add to the fun, it was Free T-Shirt Day, so I was handed a t-shirt as we walked into the stadium. That meant I didn't have to pay for a souvenier! Matt bought a program and scorecard, and kept score through the whole game. He teased me later, opening it up to show a grid of mostly gibberish, "Look! You can relive the whole game!"
After the game, we walked back to Rachael's apartment and picked her up, then walked about halfway back to Wrigley Field to have dinner at an Italian restaurant called Leona's. While we were looking over the menu, the worse of my feet surprised me with a charlie horse in the arch. I curled up behind my menu and tried not to make a lot of noise. I wound up being embarrassed anyway, though. I always feel obsessively inadequate around Matt's sister.
Oh, well. The pain subsided after a bit, and retreated a bit further after I took a couple of ibuprofen. I calmed down enough to enjoy dinner, and even laughed as Matt teased his sister by ordering dessert. (Um... No, that probably doesn't make sense. Don't worry about it.)
Friday, courtesy of Matt's brother Evan, we went to the movies to see X-Men. I'd been expecting to enjoy the special effects, but I was pleasantly surprised to enjoy the plot as well. There were enough in-jokes that I caught that I'm sure there were plenty more for avid readers of the comic. ("We actually wear this?" "What would you prefer? Yellow spandex?") I loved it that the "villian" honestly thought he was trying to help, and that the romantic interests didn't all line up neatly and resolve by the end of the movie. I also thought it was nice that the "good guys" didn't all work perfectly together; that they had their quibbles and arguments. I enjoyed the fact that the movie didn't take itself too seriously.
Evan told us after the movie that the guy who played the Toad was the same actor who'd played Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace - and that the scene where he pulls a pipe out of the elevator doors and spins it in his hands was closely choreographed to mimic the light saber duel in TPM. I thought that was funny.
Of course, they left it wide open for a sequel. If they do one, I'll probably go see it.
After the movie, Jill took us back to Matt's grandparents' house, where we relaxed some more and repacked our bags. Matt's cousin Tina came over for dinner to see us, which was nice. Grampa Brooks did some work for a farmer down the road a bit some time ago for free, in return for fresh corn whenever he wants it. He called down to the farm to see if any was in, and then he, Matt, and I drove over to pick up what was probably two or three dozen ears of corn. I love corn, so I was thrilled. I six pieces with dinner, and probably could've had one or two more if I hadn't also had potatoes, ribs, green beans, and fruit salad! We had a good time talking with Tina about her work (she's a jeweler) and all sorts of other things.
Saturday we flew back to D.C., and then drove home. It seems we never get to spend enough time with the family in Chicago, but it was good to get back to our house and to see the cat. Not to mention sleeping in our own bed and showering in our own shower. We weren't as happy to have to do the laundry, though!
Now I'm back at work, and I can't log into my computer. It should have been a simple problem - my password expired while I was gone. I called the sysadmin and she changed it for me. But now it's an hour and a half later, and I still can't get in. I'm logged in as administrator for now, but I won't be able to get my e-mail until she checks it.
Yup. I'm back.
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