Eight Things You Didn't Know You Wanted To Know
The lovely and talented Kittie Howard (author of a wonderful blog that I adore), tagged me to answer eight questions. I love a good challenge...
1. If you could go back in time and relive one moment, what would it be?
- I'd go to the last time I saw my best friend before he died of AIDS so that I could hug him one last time.
2. If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?
- I'd push HItler's mother out a window before she could reproduce.
3. What movie/TV character do you most resemble in personality?
- I can't think of any movie or TV characters but I've always felt a connection with the character of Harriet Vane, the mystery writer created by Dorothy L. Sayers.
4. If you could push one person off a cliff and get away with it, who would it be?
- Michael Vick
5. Name one habit you want to change in yourself.
- I'd like to stop being an insomniac. But that's not really a habit.
6. Describe yourself in one word.
- Weird
7. Describe the person who named you in this meme in one word.
Creative
8. Why do you blog? Answer in one sentence.
Because I have so many words in my head that if I don't let them out I get cranky.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
To Shop or Not
You know those women whose hobby is shopping? The kind with the "I'd rather be at Nordstrom" bumper stickers? Yeah, that's not me.
I hate to shop. With two exceptions. I cannot get out of a book or a record store empty handed. In fact I'm lucky if I get out for under $50.
But for everything else, I hate it. I hate trying on clothes and think that the whole process is like some sort of medieval torture. The act of looking at yourself in your underwear under flourescent light is just plan evil. I hate getting dressed and undressed and tying an d untying my shoes just because women's clothing designers can't agree on exactly what size a 10 is. Or whether a large is actually and extra large and the medium is large.
Men have it easy. You want a shirt? You go by neck and arm size. For women you have to try everything on because nothing is the same. I have three different sizes of jeans in my closet, from three different makers, and all of them fit. Why is it so bloody difficult to buy clothes? Maybe most women do enjoy the process of shopping but for me it's hell. I tend to buy everything at one time just to get it over with, but then everything wears out at the same time. At the moment I think I have three pairs of socks because in the past month I keep getting holes. So I'll have to eventually break down and hit the store and stock up.
I've always been like that. I was never one of those teenagers who hung out at the mall. (Except for Mrs. Field's cookies.) I've never shopped for fun, only because I get cold when I'm naked. (And the neighbors object.) And my regular "uniform" is jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters.
What amuses me is that Husband is totally dapper. He wears bow ties to work every day. And hats. Not baseball caps, but actual hats. He's stylish and cool and there I am, the slob in the jeans. Luckily he loves me anyway.
But to anyone who shops for fun I have to ask....why? What is it about it that you enjoy? Is it some kind of imprinted hunter-gathering thing? Instead of berries and mastodons you look for shoes and designer knock-offs?
You know those women whose hobby is shopping? The kind with the "I'd rather be at Nordstrom" bumper stickers? Yeah, that's not me.
I hate to shop. With two exceptions. I cannot get out of a book or a record store empty handed. In fact I'm lucky if I get out for under $50.
But for everything else, I hate it. I hate trying on clothes and think that the whole process is like some sort of medieval torture. The act of looking at yourself in your underwear under flourescent light is just plan evil. I hate getting dressed and undressed and tying an d untying my shoes just because women's clothing designers can't agree on exactly what size a 10 is. Or whether a large is actually and extra large and the medium is large.
Men have it easy. You want a shirt? You go by neck and arm size. For women you have to try everything on because nothing is the same. I have three different sizes of jeans in my closet, from three different makers, and all of them fit. Why is it so bloody difficult to buy clothes? Maybe most women do enjoy the process of shopping but for me it's hell. I tend to buy everything at one time just to get it over with, but then everything wears out at the same time. At the moment I think I have three pairs of socks because in the past month I keep getting holes. So I'll have to eventually break down and hit the store and stock up.
I've always been like that. I was never one of those teenagers who hung out at the mall. (Except for Mrs. Field's cookies.) I've never shopped for fun, only because I get cold when I'm naked. (And the neighbors object.) And my regular "uniform" is jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters.
What amuses me is that Husband is totally dapper. He wears bow ties to work every day. And hats. Not baseball caps, but actual hats. He's stylish and cool and there I am, the slob in the jeans. Luckily he loves me anyway.
But to anyone who shops for fun I have to ask....why? What is it about it that you enjoy? Is it some kind of imprinted hunter-gathering thing? Instead of berries and mastodons you look for shoes and designer knock-offs?
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The Steves
This is the anniversary of the day I lost my best friend, the brother of my heart, Steve. And then two years and two days later, we lost his partner, Stephen. AIDS took both of them.
Known collectively as "the Steves" these two men were two of the most beautiful people I've every known. And I miss them every day. Every single day.
Steve was a shining man. He always had a smile and never had his wallet. In all the years of our friendship it seems every time we met for lunch or dinner, I paid because he'd left his wallet at home. And it wasn't a scam -- he was just that forgetful.
He never seemed to make it through a meal without spilling something. And he was so gorgeous that people's heads would actually turn when he walked into a room. He was a model for a while, so my opinion that he was gorgeous isn't just love talking. He really was.
His laugh was infectious. Sadly, so was the disease that killed him.
Looking back over my life, Steve is the one who had the most profound affect on me. It was Steve who first loved me unconditionally. Steve who made me feel accepted for who I was. Growing up in a family where I was always the odd one out, finding this level of love staggered me.
We met in high school. I was a senior, he was a freshman. We were both in the marching band and just became friends. We hung out, went to movies, ate a lot of hamburgers. We cut class to see Alien and screamed through the whole thing. We went to midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and dressed up like the characters. We saw each other through bad haircuts, bad breakups, and bad apartments. We helped each other move. We bought each other presents. And we never felt like a new relationship was really serious unless we got the other's approval of our new boyfriend.
I can't believe I'm married to a man who never met Steve. It seems unbelievable to me. Here are the two men who meant the most to me and they're separated by the veil of death. When I married my first husband, Steve was by my side as Man of Honor. He and my ex were dear friends and my ex was part of the group that cared for Steve when he was dying. But the fact that Husband never met Steve still surprises me. Sometimes I'll catch myself saying "remember when we went camping in Yosemite?" only to recall that Husband wasn't there. It seems wrong that they don't share the same memories.
In the years since we lost the Steves my wonderful circle of friends, who are my family in all ways but blood, has stayed intact. I'm still friends with my ex. The core group who cared for these two wonderful men are still in my life -- thank god. And whenever I'm around them I'm reminded of how lucky I am to have these people in my world.
But there will always be a Steve-shaped hole in my heart.
Hug someone today and tell them that you love them.
This is the anniversary of the day I lost my best friend, the brother of my heart, Steve. And then two years and two days later, we lost his partner, Stephen. AIDS took both of them.
Known collectively as "the Steves" these two men were two of the most beautiful people I've every known. And I miss them every day. Every single day.
Steve was a shining man. He always had a smile and never had his wallet. In all the years of our friendship it seems every time we met for lunch or dinner, I paid because he'd left his wallet at home. And it wasn't a scam -- he was just that forgetful.
He never seemed to make it through a meal without spilling something. And he was so gorgeous that people's heads would actually turn when he walked into a room. He was a model for a while, so my opinion that he was gorgeous isn't just love talking. He really was.
His laugh was infectious. Sadly, so was the disease that killed him.
Looking back over my life, Steve is the one who had the most profound affect on me. It was Steve who first loved me unconditionally. Steve who made me feel accepted for who I was. Growing up in a family where I was always the odd one out, finding this level of love staggered me.
We met in high school. I was a senior, he was a freshman. We were both in the marching band and just became friends. We hung out, went to movies, ate a lot of hamburgers. We cut class to see Alien and screamed through the whole thing. We went to midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and dressed up like the characters. We saw each other through bad haircuts, bad breakups, and bad apartments. We helped each other move. We bought each other presents. And we never felt like a new relationship was really serious unless we got the other's approval of our new boyfriend.
I can't believe I'm married to a man who never met Steve. It seems unbelievable to me. Here are the two men who meant the most to me and they're separated by the veil of death. When I married my first husband, Steve was by my side as Man of Honor. He and my ex were dear friends and my ex was part of the group that cared for Steve when he was dying. But the fact that Husband never met Steve still surprises me. Sometimes I'll catch myself saying "remember when we went camping in Yosemite?" only to recall that Husband wasn't there. It seems wrong that they don't share the same memories.
In the years since we lost the Steves my wonderful circle of friends, who are my family in all ways but blood, has stayed intact. I'm still friends with my ex. The core group who cared for these two wonderful men are still in my life -- thank god. And whenever I'm around them I'm reminded of how lucky I am to have these people in my world.
But there will always be a Steve-shaped hole in my heart.
Hug someone today and tell them that you love them.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Photos of the day: The Patriarch and the New Kid
The SF Zoo has a nice large enclosure for their family of gorillas. The silverback patriarch has been a fixture for years and is the model of "you don't want to mess with this." The new kid is 2-years old and loves to sit at the top of trees and be tall.
The SF Zoo has a nice large enclosure for their family of gorillas. The silverback patriarch has been a fixture for years and is the model of "you don't want to mess with this." The new kid is 2-years old and loves to sit at the top of trees and be tall.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Photo of the day: Presenting
Husband took a few days off of work and we played tourist in the Bay Area. One of our stops was at the SF Zoo where it is, apparently, peacock mating season. Every male peacock in the place (and there are dozens of them) was showing off his finery hoping to attract the ladies (of which we saw exactly one). Anyway, this guy was strutting around by the rhino pen. Good luck Mr. Peacock.
Husband took a few days off of work and we played tourist in the Bay Area. One of our stops was at the SF Zoo where it is, apparently, peacock mating season. Every male peacock in the place (and there are dozens of them) was showing off his finery hoping to attract the ladies (of which we saw exactly one). Anyway, this guy was strutting around by the rhino pen. Good luck Mr. Peacock.
From the Kitten Nursery
The kitten nursery opened this week and we've already got a full house. It promises to be a busy season and we hope to beat last year's record of 97 kittens through the nursery and into happy homes. I'll be leading the Monday and Friday lunch shifts through October so you can look forward to lots and lots of cute kitten pix.
The kitten nursery opened this week and we've already got a full house. It promises to be a busy season and we hope to beat last year's record of 97 kittens through the nursery and into happy homes. I'll be leading the Monday and Friday lunch shifts through October so you can look forward to lots and lots of cute kitten pix.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friends and Faith
This past Saturday Husband and I attended a Passover Seder hosted by one of our dearest friends. There were about 20 people, 6 of them children. The total number of Jewish person's present was about 2 1/2. It was not, to say the least, an orthodox Seder.
What it was, however, was lovely.
Many people feel that religion is, in a large part, about community. And that night we were a community of friends. Of course there was delicious food and a chance to learn about a faith other than our own. But it was mostly about celebrating freedom and the right to be different, but accepting.
In our midst were perhaps a half-dozen languages. So our beautiful hostess printed out part of the Seder ceremony in these languages and they were read, in Hungarian, Arabic, Chinese, Latin, Old English, and Swedish. We took turns going around the table reading from the Haggadah and going through the rituals. And we laughed and shared a wonderful evening with amazing people.
I have often said that my friends are my family. And on Saturday night I was surrounded by family. There was love and silliness. There was beauty and grace. There was respect and sharing. The lunacy was represented by the infamous "Ten Plagues of Egypt Finger Puppets" (I was death of the firstborn) and the dancing Matzo Man. But it was a lovely night and I felt honestly honored to be included among such a fascinating and fabulous group of people.
Thanks to the Lurker for a wonderful, memorable evening. I love you.
This past Saturday Husband and I attended a Passover Seder hosted by one of our dearest friends. There were about 20 people, 6 of them children. The total number of Jewish person's present was about 2 1/2. It was not, to say the least, an orthodox Seder.
What it was, however, was lovely.
Many people feel that religion is, in a large part, about community. And that night we were a community of friends. Of course there was delicious food and a chance to learn about a faith other than our own. But it was mostly about celebrating freedom and the right to be different, but accepting.
In our midst were perhaps a half-dozen languages. So our beautiful hostess printed out part of the Seder ceremony in these languages and they were read, in Hungarian, Arabic, Chinese, Latin, Old English, and Swedish. We took turns going around the table reading from the Haggadah and going through the rituals. And we laughed and shared a wonderful evening with amazing people.
I have often said that my friends are my family. And on Saturday night I was surrounded by family. There was love and silliness. There was beauty and grace. There was respect and sharing. The lunacy was represented by the infamous "Ten Plagues of Egypt Finger Puppets" (I was death of the firstborn) and the dancing Matzo Man. But it was a lovely night and I felt honestly honored to be included among such a fascinating and fabulous group of people.
Thanks to the Lurker for a wonderful, memorable evening. I love you.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Photo of the day: Trim
This is some detail from the front of Stanford's Memorial Church. Husband bought a new camera on Saturday so yesterday we went on a photo safari at Stanford. Lots of pictures of palm trees, the beautiful architecture, and various other scenic wonders. But, being weird, I focus on a section of trim.
This is some detail from the front of Stanford's Memorial Church. Husband bought a new camera on Saturday so yesterday we went on a photo safari at Stanford. Lots of pictures of palm trees, the beautiful architecture, and various other scenic wonders. But, being weird, I focus on a section of trim.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Puppy Energy
I spent 6 hours at a mobile adoption event yesterday. It was a community fair for kids at a local YMCA and it seemed to be quite a hit. We had crowds all day and everybody seemed to have a good time. Our shelter brought 2 dogs, 2 cats, and a bunny. One of the cats found a home, so that makes it a success as far as we're concerned.
But today I can hardly move thanks to the non-stop antics of Cali, an 8-month old terrier/shepherd mix with enough energy to power Las Vegas for a week. This dog never stopped moving, sniffing, exploring, and generally trying to pull my arm out of its socket. It was only 15 minutes before we began to pack up that Cali finally got tired enough to curl into her dog bed and relax. For the rest of the time she was attached to my arm and determined to get away.
She kept trying to eat the tanbark in the parking lot, as well as scoop up any people food that may have been dropped nearby. When one kid dropped his popcorn Cali decided she was in heaven. I had to drag her away while someone cleaned it up so that she wouldn't eat it. Instead we went over where the nice firefighters had their truck set up for kids to climb on, and Cali promptly peed on one of the giant tires.
She's going to make a great dog -- eventually. As a requirement for adoption the owners must sign up for mandatory training, since leaving her as she is would be a disaster waiting to happen. In the meantime we're trying some basic training and doing what we can to limit Cali's wayward nature.
Next week I'll be at an event called "Bark for Life" a walk to raise money for cancer funds that will include both people and their dogs. I may get Cali again. I'm really hoping she gets adopted this week -- I'm too tired to handle her two weeks in a row.
I spent 6 hours at a mobile adoption event yesterday. It was a community fair for kids at a local YMCA and it seemed to be quite a hit. We had crowds all day and everybody seemed to have a good time. Our shelter brought 2 dogs, 2 cats, and a bunny. One of the cats found a home, so that makes it a success as far as we're concerned.
But today I can hardly move thanks to the non-stop antics of Cali, an 8-month old terrier/shepherd mix with enough energy to power Las Vegas for a week. This dog never stopped moving, sniffing, exploring, and generally trying to pull my arm out of its socket. It was only 15 minutes before we began to pack up that Cali finally got tired enough to curl into her dog bed and relax. For the rest of the time she was attached to my arm and determined to get away.
She kept trying to eat the tanbark in the parking lot, as well as scoop up any people food that may have been dropped nearby. When one kid dropped his popcorn Cali decided she was in heaven. I had to drag her away while someone cleaned it up so that she wouldn't eat it. Instead we went over where the nice firefighters had their truck set up for kids to climb on, and Cali promptly peed on one of the giant tires.
She's going to make a great dog -- eventually. As a requirement for adoption the owners must sign up for mandatory training, since leaving her as she is would be a disaster waiting to happen. In the meantime we're trying some basic training and doing what we can to limit Cali's wayward nature.
Next week I'll be at an event called "Bark for Life" a walk to raise money for cancer funds that will include both people and their dogs. I may get Cali again. I'm really hoping she gets adopted this week -- I'm too tired to handle her two weeks in a row.
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