Seven years ago… November 12, 2009

So…. John Allen Muhammad was executed on Tuesday (and all good killers go by their full name, natch).  Not a proponent of the death penalty, myself, but it brings up a lot of… stuff for me.  Not emotions, really.  I’m pretty much over the fact that I was living in VA during the DC Sniper incident and that two people were shot in the city I was living in (The Hippy reminds me that people are shot in the city I’m currently living in “all the time,” but I maintain there’s  difference).

Completely unrelated, I’ve been going through my iTunes in order to refresh the music on my ipods (yes, pods… whether I’ll change both of them or not is currently being internally debated).  In order to do this, I’ve been going through the list alphabetically and adding certain songs to an iPod folder.  I’ve been discovering songs I didn’t remember I had.  I’ve also been reminded of certain feelings that songs evoke for me.

It wasn’t until today that I realized why I feel uncomfortable when I listen to certain songs.  Certain songs that I used to love and used to listen to all the time.  Today I realized that there is a certain set of songs–songs I acquired roughly seven years ago–that sounds like fear.  These are the songs that I would escape to when I was safely back within my dorm, hoping my roommates wouldn’t turn on the news.  Some songs have been immune to this, either because I was listening to them long before the sniper incident (although there were two snipers, it’s ingrained to speak of them as a single) or because they are simply pure awesome.

They say that smells provoke the most memories, but I think for me it’s often music.

NaNoWriMo…? November 2, 2009

A couple weeks ago I had a dream.  It was kind of a crap ass dream, and I mentioned it on facebook.  A friend, who is far more of a writer than I am, told me it sounded like the basis for a great story.  I got to thinking she was quite right.  Then I realized November was only a few days away, and maybe I’d consider the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).

Then I realized that’s not at all possible.  At all.  For starters, I have a hard time focusing on anything.  Secondly, I’ve got a costume to make, because I’m suddenly obsessed with Steampunk, and it gives me a new excuse to make stuff.  But this story refuses to die, which is fine.  I’m not sure I’m the person to give it life, but I did dream it, so I figure I have to try.

Therefore, I’ve decided to rename November for myself: AtToWriSoMo: Attempt to write something month.  And so it begins.  Maybe.  If I can remember how to write.

I’d like to teach me to sing in perfect harmony October 21, 2009

(lyrics from Shine by Barry Privett/Carbon Leaf)

As a rule, I almost always sing the harmony line of whatever song is playing.  I don’t think doing this was a conscious decision.  I don’t know why I do it.  I tell myself it’s not because I’m like a music snob who has to be a show off.  It could be that.  I think, though, it’s mostly because it’s freaking fun.  I didn’t really think it was weird until a group of friends started singing a song, and I joined in, hitting the harmony at the appropriate moment.  And then I freaked out a little.  What if people thought I was showing off?  It’s certainly not my intention… It’s just the part I’m used to singing.

Photo: Carin Baer/FOX

As a soloist I was… Okay.  Not because of how I sing.  I sing great (not to too my horn…).  What’s missing from solos, for me, is the thrill of the chord.  The Chordgasm, if you will.  I’m a much happier singer in a group, and happier singers make for better songs.

I am forever slated for ensemble singing, and I’m perfectly okay with that.  I mean, ignoring the fact that I probably won’t do a whole heck of a lot of singing outside my truck, of course.  I don’t dream about time in the spotlight.  I do, however, dream about people I could duet with.

How we do September 8, 2009

Friday was the first time I hit the Minnesota State Fair.  We had to be there by 10:30 to get seats to Tonic Sol-Fa. They’re a great a cappella group that hails from MN, and seats always fill up fast.  We managed to find seats in the second row, right on the end, which is important with a one year old in tow.  She was able to run, dance, sit without being in the way of too many people.  Mostly just my sister, who had to get up to chase her and dance with her.  Rocketdog actually lost her seat for awhile to a woman who pushed her bags into me and sat down.  It wasn’t until Rocketpuppy tried to come over to me that the woman realized she had taken someone’s seat.  And yet, she didn’t move until the show was over.  Thanks lady.

The rest of Friday was filled with good (great!) food, lots of walking, many jokes, and bad fashion bingo.  We made up cards to cross off whenever we saw such gems as: Tie Dye (a state fair must, apparently), animal print, pimp hats, and too short short shorts.  The too short short shorts prompted BILOSORD to mention that there are a lot of hungry butt cracks at the fair.  I will also never, ever live down saying “I just need camel toe to win!”

Saturday was the only day that brought doom to my birthday weekend.  It’s also the day I almost got The Hippy and myself killed.  I hadn’t slept much the night before, or even the night before that.  I was tired–TIRED–and had spent the entire day on the verge of tears.  Because that’s how I roll.  We had a long drive up to my parents’ cabin–someplace I’d only been once in the last ten years.  Frankly, I wasn’t 100% sure how to get there, but I trusted that my mother had given me good directions.  Which was, incidentally, stupid.  There was apparently a point that I needed to turn, but no one told me that.  The Hippy said he should have figured it out, because we were going west, not north, at that point, but it didn’t occur to him.  I finally said, “I feel like we should have gotten somewhere by now,” and he said, “Me too” and thumbed the map a bit.  And I started crying.  I didn’t know where to turn around, and I was feeling frustrated.  The Hippy, while able to think very quickly under pressure, doesn’t care to have resistance in making things happen.  And I was resisting.  So his voice was rising a little.  It was the classic ‘Yelling isn’t helping”  “I’m not yelling.  You’d know if I were yelling” situation.  So I kept crying.

We finally turned around, we knew where we needed to go, but at that point the crying was completely involuntary.  Also involuntary was my breathing, which kept getting shallower and shallower until I was hyperventilating.  When I couldn’t stop, I started getting really dizzy and thought I was going to black out.  At that point, The Hippy grabbed the wheel and told me to pull over, but I pulled over sooner and much more abruptly than he would have liked.  Much further off the side of the road, and we probably would have rolled.  He kept telling me to get out of the car so he could drive, but I was afraid to move.  The last thing I wanted after almost killing us was to pass out on the side of the highway.  I eventually made it to the passenger side of the truck, and by the time we met up with my parents my breathing was back to normal, but I was spent.  It took a long time to act like a human being, but I was able to pass it off as being overtired (which wasn’t a complete lie).

Sunday was the corn feed.  We ate corn.  It was yummy.  Enough said.

Monday was another day at the fair.  Because I love the fair.  For no good reason.  But I love it.  Before we went to the fair, The Hippy needed to do some homework.  We’d gone out to buy my present on Saturday before going up north (A Kitchen Aid mixer–SQUEE!), and he came groggily into the living room saying “Happy birthday….”  I thought maybe he was going to do a little cleaning up before starting his homework, because he grabbed a piece of brown paper that a framed print had been wrapped in and wandered into the kitchen.  Then he came back into the living room carrying my giant mixer box covered with the brown paper.  “Happy birthday; I got you a present.”  He set it on my lap, and I couldn’t stop laughing.  “Open it!  Open it!” he kept saying.  It was all very cute and sweet, and I actually started tearing up a little.

Since the hyperventilation incident didn’t happen on my birthday, I consider this the first birthday in possibly forever that didn’t suck.  It was actually really awesome.  The only thing I’m disappointed about was missing out on Australian Battered Potatoes at the fair.  But at least I got a crepe this year.  And falafel.  Yum.  I can guarantee I will be making those potatoes.  Yum.  Or num num for my tum tum, as the Hippy likes to say.

Misc around the house August 24, 2009

Life is all work work work, play a little, go to the cabin a little, work some more.  The weeks keep flying by, and I have no idea where they’re going.  It’s funny how life at work can seem like it’s going so freaking slow, but then I turn around and the summer is over.  My birthday is in exactly two weeks, and no matter how old I get, that still means school is just around the corner.  Summer has been relatively good to me, though, despite all that working business and the speeding by business.

Bountiful harvest.  I would say that I have more cucumbers than I know what to do with, but I can easily eat on of these in a sitting.  They do not go to waste.  I might, however, end up with more tomatoes than I can handle, but I have some great recipes in mind.  I will have to work fast, though!

There is an airport nearish my house (not only has my official address been the same block my entire life, but I’ve also lived near an airport my entire life.  And a train track.  It’s a requirement), so there is always interesting aircraft flying around my neighborhood.  I made a rare trip outside of my house for something other than work last weekend, and was thankful I had randomly decided to pack my camera in my purse the night before.  As it turns out, I NEVER carry my camera around.  I just don’t ever think to take pictures.  But I managed to get a picture of the Good Year Blimp while I was driving.  I’m pretty sure I took that picture at a stop light, because the ones actually taken while moving turned out poorly.

That lovely vision of shit greets me every time I step out of my house.  My neighbors are absolute rubbish, and their lawn reflects it.  This picture was taken (by the Hippy while I was gone; apparently my camera was more convenient) on a particularly bad day.  Turns out my neighbor and her children are moving!  Hooray!  Oh, but wait.  Her sister is moving in instead.  WTF? (or FTW? if you’re a wench)  So, sadly, it will be the same shit, same people, same nonsense.

Okay, summer has been MOSTLY good to me.  With the exception of the neighbor thing.  I also got a new washer–no pictures, because, well, it’s a washer–for nearly free.  It was in the renter’s side because it was “broken,” according to the woman who sold the house.  Hippy figured out what was wrong, got a $60 part for it, and WHAMO!  Even better washer than the one I’d been using.

Weekend Highlights July 23, 2009

Spent a long weekend (okay, five days, but in my head it’s still a weekend) at The Hippy’s family’s cabin.  It was The Hippy’s birthday Tuesday, so we Hippy-ed it up.  The best of:

• Shooting stars while I could still look at the sky (also known as: “Oh!  Falling bits of space debris hitting our atmosphere and burning up!  Make a wish, honey!”)
• The Hippy getting a good amount of playtime in with his nephew.  Exhibit A:

The boys watching Clifford

• Geocaching–finding two of four caches we set out to find.  There were a few others we wanted to find but weather, batteries, and an inability to find the right trail kept us from doing so.  We’re convinced the ones we couldn’t find had been removed, damaged, or muggled.
• Four-wheeling, which is eternally awesome.  Flying that a million miles an hour (okay, 25-30) going over bumps and getting great air.  Was going to learn how to drive it, but I ended up getting injured and lost my four-wheeling nerve.  I still rode it, mind you, because it’s freaking FUN, but I didn’t want to do anything more to risk killing myself.
• So, that’s the second time I’ve alluded to injuring myself…  While going over a set of bumps that were way too close together for the speed we were going (oops) my chin became very close friends with The Hippy’s shoulder blade.  For a split second I was certain I’d just dislocated my jaw–I felt it push backward when I hit.  Then I realized all the pain was in my neck and my head.  The Hippy didn’t realize how much I’d been hurt (also used to ATV-ing with his brainless friend), so he kept going, which amplified the pain in my neck and skull.  I finally got him to pull over so I could rest a little.  Thankfully we were almost at the end of the train and would very quickly be on pavement, but the remaining bumps were absolutely killer, even though he was crawling at a snail’s pace.
• Playing cribbage while under the influence of a rather strong painkiller.  Thankfully, The Hippy’s dad was feeling equally as foggy, so I didn’t feel so stupid when I couldn’t remember how to count.  Or use my fingers.  I did feel kind of embarrassed when I would start giggling and not be able to stop, though.  And I still managed to win the second game.
• No amount of painkillers–not even the strong ones–would touch the pain in my neck, so I stopped taking them.  For the most part, I’m able to move my neck without much pain now.  Only when I put my head back does it hurt.  Hence not being able to look at the stars.
• Seeing what we think is the International Space Station (or maybe the latest shuttle) fly overhead on The Hippy’s birthday.  I was able to see it before it went too far behind me.  The times check out, and it definitely wasn’t an airplane or your average satellite.

Finally…  This has nothing to do with my long weekend other than I found this video when I came home…  I remember hearing this song on KDWB when I was a kid; I even called in once to request it.  Because I botched the call so badly (mixed up the name of the song for the artist and had to be corrected by the person who took my call), this song has haunted me long past even remembering how the song went.  Until now, thanks to CrowBiz, even though she is staunchly against any English version.  Enjoy.

I will have a real post soon… July 4, 2009

I promise!

In the meantime…

I ♥ Cute Overload June 19, 2009

OMG EMO BUNNY!!!!!!!!

Click on the bunny to read the full CO post!

Who’s the Hippie Here? June 8, 2009

I’ve been calling The Hippy The Hippy for over four years now, and for the most part it’s unfounded.  I call him that because very early in our relationship (second date while ice skating around a little pond) he called himself a hippie and it stuck.  He later spelled it hippy in an IM chat, though I prefer hippie–hence the spelling.  He is incredibly liberal and incredibly active in politics.  He’s also a conspiracy theorist who had really long hair until a year ago.  But that’s where the similarities ended.  He’s quite preppy, wants to be stinking rich, and doesn’t like hacky sack.  He hates folk music and being around people.  He is also meat+potatoes+junk food.

No.  If anyone in our house is the hippie, it’s me.  Given my druthers, I would cook whole wheat everything.  I would have vegetarian days (but I wouldn’t be veg.  I love me some meat) and I would conserve and recycle like mad.  I love folk music, and I think the *idea* of living in a commune or participating in a co-op are amazing (in practice, however, I know communes especially are terrible, terrible ideas for the most part).

To fulfill the requirements of one of my hippie badges, I felt I really, really, really needed to make granola.  I scoured the internet for recipes that used only things I currently had on hand.  I found this one, and decided to give it a shot.  I highly, highly recommend it.  It cooked up super fast, and even though I didn’t have molassass, it turned out great.  I substituted syrup, and it seems just fine.  Dumping in a bunch of coconut was the final touch.

In the tradition of DK’s cooking, I hurt myself.  Rather severely this time–or at least it feels that way…

Left hand shot, sorry so crappy

It doesn’t look like much, but it hurts like hell.  I hit the side of the pot as I was dumping out the granola.  I am currently sitting here with an ice pack wrapped around my arm.  It’s the only way the burn doesn’t rub on things as I type.

Yeah, yeah, I know… You didn’t come here to see pictures of my clumsiness.  Onto the goods!

Mmmmm, barry goodness

I read in the comments that this was a great recipe to press and cut into bars, so that’s my intention.  My taste of it so far comes in cleaning off the spoon.  It needed a good, thorough cleaning, to be sure.  I haven’t yet cut into the bars, but I doubt they’ll last long.

Good thing I got that Wii Fit……

Now I just need to use it…. May 26, 2009

For the first time in at least a decade, I have a library card.  I lost mine, found mine, and lost it again, so I figured since I had moved I would just pretend I was a new person.  I can’t get in too much trouble, right?

I put it off for so long because I am terrible with books.  For starters, I like to keep books.  I may never read them again, but it’s comforting to know I can if I want to.  Secondly, I take forever to read books.  It’s not uncommon for me to have multiple books going at once, and it often takes me months to read them.  This is also why I don’t care for borrowing books from friends.  Third, I’m hard on books.  I like to dog-ear.  I often spill (usually water, but sometimes soda).  I drop them in bathtubs (but I figure since my new bathtub sucks and I haven’t taken a bath since February, this shouldn’t be an issue).  This is also why I don’t like to borrow from friends, ha.

But I figure, there’s more to libraries than books.  There’s museum passes, and CDs, and DVDs.  There’s audiobooks, probably, which I find hard to keep up with because I always see shiny things and forget to listen, but the option is there.

So.. yay me.  It’s been a long time coming (as Rocketdog can attest).