Gnumoon's Stuff

Buzz Lightyear Costume - Part I

When we were at Mickey's Not-So-Scary Halloween party, we were in line to meet Donald Duck, and behind us was a man dressed like Buzz Lightyear. I only noticed him in the melee of costumes because it was dark out, and the plastic wings had green lightsticks taped to them. Nice touch. But I had this flicker of a thought: Buzz is a good costume. A really good costume. And I couldn't shake it. I tried to shake it, but it wouldn't let go. I don't have TIME, I thought, to make this costume. A little alien? Sure, I can swing that. But a Buzz frigging Lightyear? He has WINGS, among other difficult-to-design parts. But still the idea lingered.

I love Buzz Lightyear, and that proably had a lot to do with it. He's funny and courageous and hilariously arrogant. Whereas Woody always struck me as a whiny fatalistic prima donna, Buzz is so honest and earnest in whatever he believes, and an eternal optimist. (The latter is the reason That One Scene You Know The One I Mean Is Someone Cutting Onions In Here Dammit in Toy Story 3 is so touching, when he knows it's over)

As an aside, I prefer the original Tim Allen voice, but Patrick Warburton's cartoon & game work gets a nod from me as well, because he's also Kronk and the Tick. Kronk may be my favorite 2D cartoon character of all time.

As an additional aside, the Mrs. Nesbit Scene in the original movie is on my personal list of "best scenes in a movie ever." "YEARS OF ACADEMY TRAINING, WASTED!"

So Buzz is an interstellar badass with a heart of gold. AND he has a really really awesome Space Ranger suit. The costumes online were really expensive, really terrible, and in a lot of cases, both. I didn't even start thinking about the Buzz costume until after I finished Jessie and the alien, my reasoning being that DJ wouldn't get to go to as many Halloween functions as M and I, so his costume could wait. And also I had no idea who to attack the construction problem. I've never made anything even vaguely space-suity, unless Rainbow Brite counts (it doesn't).

I sketched and I thought and I sketched. The weekend before Halloween I went to Woods of Terror in the 'boro with some friends and my brother. We consumed some adult beverages, and I ended the evening (ok, early morning) sketching madly on a paper towel at my in-laws' house, no doubt gesturing wildly, while explaining the pieces of Buzz to my brother The Artist. Said artist helpfully suggested that DJ just go as Sid Phillips because it was an easier costume, here less than a week from the holiday. I let him know that was a cop-out solution that he was welcome to blow out his ass, so we poured another glass of pinot and went back to the sketch, deconstructing. To the left is the drunken, wingless, from-memory sketch in question. It isn't impressive, but it at least gave me a starting point.

 Monday at lunchtime I started gathering parts. I went to the used sporting goods store and confused the hell out of the clerk by purchasing all manner of clearanced baseball gear. The main scores were a catchers' chestplate ($7) and some batting gloves ($4). Then on to the consignment store, where a shaft of light shone down from the very heavens and blindingly illuminated a pair of men's ski bibs, white ($4). I also picked up several random sets of kneepads, elbow pads and some shinguards ($6 for all).I also picked up a tai kwan do practice pad for some reason; although sized for a child it looked promising as part of a space suit ($2).

After work, M and I went to Lowe's for pipe insulation and some other odds and ends. She was very helpful, choosing paint colors and providing comic relief, as 3 year olds are wont to do. Total bill: $7.

I got home, shoveled some hastily-prepared dinner into my family, and set to work. I used all the terrible political pre-election ads we were recieving in the mail  as a dropcloth, and started painting. I already knew the foam wouldn't take normal acrylic paint, so I'd bought a quart of some sludge called "EXTERIOR SUPER ADHESION LAQUER," pausing only long enough between coats to paint mustaches and devil horns on the drop-cloth candidates (esp Soucek because he strikes me as a total douchebag).

The armbands for the laser and the Space Ranger insignia are repurposed beer coozies I found in the cabinet and dismantled mercilessly with my x-acto blade. GREEK WEEK '99? GONE! DIXIE LANDING RESORT? YOU DON'T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE! No foam item in the house was safe; several tub toys were sacrificed to bring us this costume.

While that was drying I dragged out the sewing machine and mulled over the the cowl. (What color is Lightyear's hair? Judging by his eyebrows I'll guess dark brown. My hsband is a ginger and not inclined to let me dye his brows. Oh well.) I'd bought some purple fleece and cut it in the general shape of a three-piece hood. While DJ sat on the couch trying to get his daily West Wing fix, I made him try it on, adjusting and sewing and velcroing and pinning and hemming as he attempted in vain to hear the words of his president, Jed Bartlett. I was eventually satisfied with it enough to leave him alone and go back to my painting. (Note: I can't sew. This minor detail has never stopped me from finishing a project.)

At some point during that first night of construction it because painfully clear that the costume, with its Omaha Steaks cooler-based jetpack, was going to be very underwhelming without wings. I fired up the computer and started google image searching to check their construction. I'd yoinked some fome core boards from work out of the scrap bin, and started eyeing them with a new respect.  Flimsy, but possibly workable. I glued 2 lengths together back to back (for strength) and started cutting them in a general approximation of Buzz wings. By the end of the night I had a rough approximation of the jetpack and wings, but definitely not worthy of a Space Ranger yet. Zurg would just laugh his evil laugh at this point in the process.

I would have been worried about the costume's progress were it not for the star of that first evening of construction, the gloves. Oh the glorious gloves. Who knew that if you put paint on the existing stretchy parts of batting gloves they look just like Lightyear's hands? I suspect someone at Pixar knows this, because they looked almost perfect with very little effort on my part. I bet they were originally modeled after batting gloves. Or at least at 3am I was pretty sure of it.

Part II coming up in a jiff. I just have to take a break for some darjeeling.

 

 

 

In which I discuss the Space-Time Continuum

 I'm back, and I'm not going to bore you with the inconsequential details of my existence; see the Twitter feed to the right if such things interest you (poor, poor you if so). No, no, I have to talk about something much deeper. You guessed it: time travel. 

It seems like every book, show, movie I've come across lately has involved time travel. I don't generally find this to be a compelling subject; usually it is lazily used as a plot device and seems stale. And yet, here it is, time travel time travel timetravel, like I've come back from 2014 and given myself all this material on the subject to make myself think in circles about why it's suddenly of interest. If that is the case, I'm a real dick in the future and should get a better hobby. Leaving clues for yourself has been done, dude (See: Bill & ted's Excellent Adventure and also the Bad Wolf storyline in Doctor Who). 

Writers all seem to have a different take on the subject: how it would be accomplished, what it would feel like, how much you could change or potentially screw up by even doing it in the first place. ("Oh I wish I wish I hadn't killed that fish" - Homer Simpson in the time travel Halloween episode of the Simpsons (based on a Bradbury story, I think.)

So here is a not-at-all complete list of "Things I Have Encountered Involving Time Travel (that may or may not be of my own doing or may or may not be a total coincidence but probably are a coincidence unless they aren't, in which case I want a hoverboard, dammit)."

 Title: Outlander (books)

Time Traveling Protagonist: Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser

Antagonist: Her husband's great great great .... great uncle, and everyone who wants to kill her as a witch

Setting: Scotland

Mode of Transport: standing stones (funny, she doesn't look Druish)

Time travel is: Excrucuating and disorienting, kills many

Amount of time traveled: 200 years

Ultimate reason for travel: Hot kilted lovin' from Jamie Fraser 

The Future is: not really something you can change. Except for the potato famine thing.

"Oh come on" moments: Meets the loch ness monster, invents penicillin, kills a buffalo with a surgical saw, pick one.  

Best Quote: ""No wonder he was so good with horses, I thought blearily, feeling his fingers rubbing gently behind my ears, listening to the soothing, incomprehensible speech. If I were a horse, I’d let him ride me anywhere."

 Title: Back to the Future (first movie)

Time Traveling Protagonist: Marty McFly (and Einstein the dog)

Antagonist: Bif Tannen

Setting: Hill Valley, California

Mode of Transport: A tricked-out Delorean

Time Travel is: made possible by the never-explained but always fluxxing flux capacitor. Whoa Doc, that's heavy.

Amount of time traveled: 30 years

Ultimate reason for travel: to make his own father not such a weenie

The Future is: completely malleable, right down to musical influence

"Oh come on" moments: Chuck Berry's cousin happens to get hurt and Marty has to play the "Enchantment Under the Sea" dance

Best Quote: "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit."

*How the hell did Marty and Doc Brown meet anyway? That is hardly a normal friendship.

TItle: Doctor Who (show, radio, books)

Time Traveling Protagonist: The Doctor (11 versions, 10 regenerations)

Antagonist: the adorably destructive daleks, and assorted cybermen, aliens, vampires, etc etc etc (hey, it's been on since the 60s)

Setting: All over, but generally ends up in London somehow

Mode of Transportation: The TARDIS, a 60s british police box (named before the currently accepted definition of "tard" was in use, stands for "Time and Relative Dimension in Space")

Time travel is: wheee!

Amount of Time traveled: all of it

Ultimate reason for travel: To save the world while having zany British adventures and spewing earnest yet hilarious dialogue. (everything I know from my childhood about England I learned from Doctor Who, Monty Python and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. I will be really disappointed if I ever visit, I'm afraid)

The Future is: there for the changing. Where's a barely-legal chick I can take with me, even though I'm 900 or so? Oh there's one...

"Oh come on" moments: Look, DOC-TOR, stop looking so shocked when the damn daleks show up. The show has been on for over 30 years, those bumpy little bastards are coming to ineffectively attempt to EX-TER-MIN-ATE your ass at least twice a season. (*we were big fans of the 4th regeneration "longass scarf" doctor growing up - none of us can walk past a fan without talking into it like a dalek)

Best Quote: "The thing is, time travel is like visiting Paris. You can't just read the guidebook, you've got to throw yourself in. Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers. Or is that just me?"

* I haven't watched Torchwood yet, it's in queue. 

 Title: Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure

Time Traveling Protagonist(s): Bill S. Preston, esq., and Ted "Theodore" Logan III

Antagonist: Mr. Ryan, the history professor

Setting: San Dimas, whose high school football team is, by all accounts, very good.

Mode of Transportation: A phone booth (probably a Doctor Who reference there)

Amount of Time Traveled: varied

Time Travel is: Whoa.

Ultimate reason for travel: To save the princesses from the royal ugly dudes, and pass history class.

The Future is: Excellent, thanks to Wyld Stallyns and Rufus (yay George Carlin)

"Oh Come on" moments: The very existence of this film.

Best Quote: "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."

 Title: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (books, radio series, movie)

Time Traveling Protagonists: Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, Trillian, and Zaphod Beeblebrox 

Antagonist: Varied

Mode of Transportation: Nothing that makes a modicum of sense at all

Amount of Time Traveled: The end of the universe, for starters. Make reservations when you return from dinner!

Time Travel is: hilariously British, and seemingly not at all un-English.

Ultimate Reason for Travel: 42.

The Future is: 42.

"Oh come on" moments: 42. 

Best quote: "For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons."

 Title: The Langoliers (short story, movie*)

Time Traveling Protagonists: Bunch of people on an airplane

Antagonist: The Langoliers

Setting: The Boston airport, a few hours ago

Mode of Transportation: big ol jet airliner through a timerip over the midwest US

Amount of Time Traveled: a few hours

Time Travel is: ghastly and the most horrifying thing imaginable, also stale. Best to just sleep through it if you can.

Ultimate Reason for Travel: to scare the shit out of the readers

The Future is: much better than this awful past

"Oh come on" moments: The blind psychic girl is the only one who can save us!

Best quote: "We know what happens to today when it becomes yesterday... It waits for them... the timekeepers of eternity!"

*This movie includes Dean Stockwell, best known for his work in:

 Title: Quantuum Leap (show)

Time Traveling Protagonist: Sam Beckett 

Antagonist: Varied weekly

Setting: varied weekly

Mode of Transportation: the Accelerator

Amount of Time Traveled: Varied weekly, but thankfully always to English-speaking places

Time Travel is: I just wanna go home! I do not want to go through labor OHMYGOD IT HURTS.

Ultimate Reason for Travel: To get home, funding

The Future is: not explored, think of it as Groundhog Day for setting the past right

"Oh Come on" moments: all of it. Not only time travel, but bodily possession as well? 

Best quote: "Leaping about in time, I've found that there are some things in life that I can't change, and there are some things that I can. To save a life, to change a heart, to make the right choice. I guess that's what life's about."

Title: The Terminator (1st movie)

Time Traveling (hottie) Protagonist: Kyle Reese (see photo)

Antagonist: The T-100 Terminator

Mode of Transportation: Some pervert-a-tron that requires nakedness for time travel

Setting: LA and thereabouts

Amount of Time Traveled: 35 years

Time Travel is: necessary, naked, irreversible

Ultimate Reason for Travel (Kyle Reese version): Scare the hell out of, romance, and impregnate Sarah Connor in order to save the humans. Then die tragically. (Terminator version) Kill Sarah Connor.

The Future is: pretty farking bleak, and not much can change that, despite the attempts of the first three movies. 

"Oh come on" moments: Very few. A well-thought out first installment.

Best quote: "John Connor gave me a picture of you once. I didn't know why at the time. It was very old - torn, faded. You were young like you are now. You seemed just a little sad. I used to always wonder what you were thinking at that moment. I memorized every line, every curve. I came across time for you Sarah. I love you; I always have." 

 Title: Donnie Darko (movie)

Time Traveling Protagonist: Donnie Darko

Antagonist: Jet turbine

Mode of Transportation: We aren't supposed to talk about this (but it's a time tunnel thingy)

Setting: America

Amount of Time traveled: Not much, just enough

Time travel is: a sacrifice

Ultimate Reason for travel: to save those you love

The Future is: interrupted by a jet turbine through the abdomen

"Oh come on" moments: I didn't even understand without the director's cut that this was a movie about time travel. So there were a lot the first time I saw it. 

Best quote: "Sometimes, I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion!" 

 Title: Hot Tub Time Machine (movie)

This movie was bad and I don't want to discuss it. I wish I could hijack the TARDIS and make myself go see something different the night we went to see it. Its existence does make me think Crispin Glover only wants to be in movies about time travel.

Ultimate Time Traveler award:

 Q (from Star Trek)

Q does whatever the hell he wants. He don't need no TARDIS/Delorean/Time Warp generator, he just snaps his fingers and OFF HE GOES to SCREW with Picard and the silly humans some more! 

Except, you know, that one time when he had to be human, and he got scared to sleep because he thought he was dying, and then he ordered 10 chocolate sundays because Troi said that's she eats one when she's down in the dumps? *pushes glasses back up on nose* Yeah, that was a good episode.

*When Star Trek writers are stumped, they can always pull out the "Deus Ex Q," and make it all better by the time the credits roll. 

Awaiting review:

Timeline, Timequake, Star Trek, Primer

There is also a great TMNT game where the turtles travel through time, but I'm not going to talk about that. I don't want you guys to think I'm a geek. 

Laughing toddler, video upload test, and a weekend wrap-up

You know what is funnier than a teddy bear rolling down the windshield of a car over and over and over? Apparently nothing in the world.

We capped off yesterday with blueberry picking and a dinner of blueberry-wheat-flax pancakes. I ruined any illusion of "healthy dinner," however by heating up some of the honey-roasted hand-mushed peanut butter we'd picked up at the Farmer's Market and pouring it over the stacks. I'm not generally a huge PB&J fan, but it was incredible. My mouth just started watering thinking about it. I'm sorry, regular butter, you had a good run. Take that good-fer-nothing syrup with you. Then for good measure we showed Pookie the joy of feeding the dog peanut butter. She wasn't laughing quite as hard as in the above clip, but almost.

Today I made omelets with fresh veggies out of my grandmother's garden, and they were quite good. Even Pooks approved of the "yittle cute greenies" (sweet peppers), when usually she prefers her eggs infused with nothing but more eggs. (This page is quickly becoming "Gnumoon talks about food a lot," isn't it? Oh well, I do. I love food. *shrug*) Then, because I have all this free time, I painted Pooks' bathroom. I haven't posted about this much, but we're having some difficulty in the potty training area. The difficulty is that Pooks refuses. She CAN, she knows HOW, but she will NOT.

So, having tried begging, ignoring, "Potty presents," and other gimmicks with no success, I was left with no other option than to redo the upstairs bathroom (in the nursery). To change it from a dark, never-decorated cave suitable for only hand-washing post diapering and holiday-decoration-storage purposes into a room so bright, so fun, so cheerful that she will literally pee with delight upon entering. Let's hope that lofty goal can be achieved with paint, shelving, and tile. (PS - Do NOT just hand your paint swatches to the good people at Lowe's and then poss-ass off to do the rest of your shopping. Take the paint base of your choice to them. Otherwise, they will default to the MOST EXPENSIVE PAINT ALLOWABLE BY LAW in your state. Lesson learned.)

Then after some lunch we headed off the mountain to do some shopping (filling the pantry to avoid those "Oh shit, we have a sitter coming during football game and NO FOOD IN THIS HOUSE" moments) and meet the family for dinner. My youngest brother is going to portland to visit the middlest brother in the morning, and it's sort of an unofficial family tradition to meet for a meal the night before a trip and take turns chasing the toddler around the restaurant while not actually getting to ingest any food.

So that was our relaxing weekend. My husband spent the rest of the evening in the recliner, reading media guides and spot charts, writing furiously on index cards and highlighting words in his special Game-prep code. I puttered around getting ready for my week, quizzing him on stats and bringing him green tea, as is our gameweek custom. It's a routine we fell back into with stunning ease.

Since I'm starting back to school tomorrow I have this guilt about leaving the family to fend for themselves, not that they aren't capable of survival. I made turkey meatballs, and instructed DJ on where the sauce and pasta were, and the feta and cranberries for the spinach. He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at me and went back to his charts, indicating that he knew all these things. I also made fresh basil pesto and a triple-recipe of hummus (forever known around here as "Thomas," since that is what Pooks calls it) for later in the week.

I know all these preparations seem silly, manic even, but it's as if I'm stacking sandbags on a riverbank. The flood isn't here yet, but I can feel it coming, and I want to at least say I tried not to get swept away.

Birthdays, the Farmer's Market, and a few moments of stolen peace

That's what I'm doing, ayup. Stealing peaceful minutes while the family naps on this Saturday afternoon, this Last Saturday of Peace before football. We purposely planned to do nothing at all this weekend, but of course we're harried anyway with the business of life.

Maggie's birthday party was lots of fun. The kids all played, the band was great (it was at the park, where they have music on Friday nights), we met some new fun people, and a good time was had by all. Despite cookies, cake, ice cream, and a general overload on sugary treats, Pookie conked out on my shoulder around 8:30. We woke her up at home just long enough to brush her teeth.

The birthday girl, Maggie, getting ready to blow out her candles:

The cookies were a hit, by the way, and several people even asked if I owned a bakery. That is high praise indeed! (And it has gotten me thinking, which is always dangerous)

****

I don't recall if I've blogged about it before, but one of my very favorite things about living here is going to the Watauga County Farmer's Market on Saturday mornings. We get up, throw some clothes on (no makeup or fuss, it's not that kind of scene), and head over as soon as we're conscious. We stock up on basics (squash, tomatoes, eggs), find new ingredients and recipes (rainbow chard wrapped around fresh mint tabouli), and catch up with fellow Boonies. We go there for the cameraderie as much as we do to support the local farmers and get wonderful food. There's just something quaint and wholesome and refreshing about the experience we love, some intangible thing that makes us sad when we have to miss it (as we will next week).

The above photo shows today's haul of fresh basil, chard, onions, squash, potatoes, apples and zucchini. The pineapple came from elsewhere (what, you're shocked that they don't grow in the mountains?). Below is a bouquet of sunflowers from the market. They make me smile, which is well worth the $3.

When we got home and everyone else retired to their naps I spent time destressing by cleaning and organizing the kitchen. There is something about having everything in its place in that one room that centers me. Something about having the spice jars clean and ready, in just the right place (turmeric and garlic front and center, tartar and ginger relegated to the back) to grab when I need them. Something that makes me smile to see the low-sodium soy sauces side-by-side, Kikkoman for DJ and La Choy for me. Marriages are about compromise, but this is not an area where we will ever agree, so there they both are, seperate but equally important to our household.

The dishes are all done and put away in order, not haphazardly stowed like they will be later, when  football/work/class are in full swing. The cookie cutters and mixer parts have been carefully handwashed and packed up, ready for the next project. The floor is freshly mopped (Shark for the win!), peppermint oil on cotton balls has been discretely tucked away under cabinets (to distract any curious mice who might be in search of a winter home). (note: so handy that what mice think smells so bad smells delicious to humans. Also, thanks for the tip, Sarah!)

These things all center me, enabling me to not shudder at the thought of all that is coming at us, fast. In an hour everyone will be awake, the house abuzz with noise and activity, and likely the kitchen will again be a wreck. And Monday I start class (I WILL finish this damn master's degree if it kills me), Saturday we start The Season, and work and toddler and life is all in between.

But for now all is in its place, and the restful silence is beautiful.

My vegetarian swimsuit body

Ok enough of serious posting. Let’s talk about bathing suits. I went at lunch and braved the dressing rooms with armloads of suits (tankinis, because I don’t think they even make one-pieces any more), in hopes of finding one that would make me not want to bleach the eyes of beachgoers.

Kathy posted and said that she thought I had an okay bathing suit body, but here’s the thing: I NEVER would have let Marie post a photo of me in a bathing suit, or in revealing clothing. So, never would she post a photo of my thighs. Because, dear readers, here is my secret: my upper thighs look like bell peppers. Seriously. Normal knees, normal lower thighs, and then BAM! Stuffed pepper thighs. It’s quite bizarre. And they have always been shaped like that.

I could be shipwrecked on a remote island and finally succumb to starvation, and when my body was discovered, emaciated and gaunt, the traveling doctor of the expedition would stroke his beard and say, “But surely something else killed this woman, her face and thighs are so full and meaty!” (He would be a British Colonial from the 1700s for some reason. I think they were looking for Spanish gold when they found my island.)

In the past I have exercised away my belly, I have starved away my muffin top, but the cheeks and thighs have always remained. When I was young (8 or 9 years old) I dreamed of the day I would become a scientist and devise a serum that, when injected into the thighs just so would grow a new layers of skin from the insides out and eventually allow me to peel off the unsightly chunks flesh from my legs.  I still think of my wonder elixir whenever I prepare chicken breasts, because in my imagination that’s what the hunks of fat looked like.

So yeah, bathing suit shopping isn’t high on my list of fun things to do. But I discovered that suits made to conceal the thighs (boyshorts, skirted suits, etc.) actually draw the eye to the problem area, they in effect scream “HOLEE SHIT LOOK AT THESE THIGHS! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT???”, so I’ve moved back to a more normal suit style, in a basic black or olive drab color. I am THAT exciting.

I used to think that if I just exercised enough I could look like Gabrielle Reese in my suit, but it just isn’t meant to be. That’s not to say that now I’ve had a kid I’m going to give up on trying to be in shape, but I think perhaps my standards are more realistic. If I eat right and try to haul my ass to the gym occasionally, I can put on a suit and have fun with my friends/baby/family when I hit the beach instead of worrying about my jigglation. At this point in life, that works for me.

just when you thought it was safe...

So I've been helping plan a bachelorette weekend for a friend. The weekend is nearly upon us, and I have realized with dawning horror it means I have to get into a swimsuit. On the beach. In front of people. Today two of my dear friends decided they were going to order suits from Victoria's Secret and go in together on the order to get free shipping, and told me to pick out the one I wanted and I could get in on the deal too. Lemme tells you something: Vikki's ain't got one thing that would be flattering on me. I'm going to hold out until they reveal their Pink! line of burquas, then maybe I'll whip out the ol credit card. Maybe they'll have the Sweeney Todd Collection soon (see photo).

I wasn't always this averse to swimwear; in fact I was a lifeguard for many a year. I never gave it a thought- I just threw on whichever suit was dry. One-piece, two-piece, tankini, etc. As long as it was dry and didn't have a "pool funk" smell to it. I wore one suit up on the stand that I now consider to be scandalously skimpy, and am somewhat appalled at photographs. Guess that means I'm getting old, eh?

I'm baaaaack

I haven't posted in a week or so. I had to put it on my "to do" list, or it wouldn't have gotten done. I just love marking things off the list. (Sometimes I put stuff on there I have already done, just so I can have things marked off, like accomplishments!)

In the time I've been offline, much has happened. I suppose the biggest thing is that we went to the NSSA awards banquet over the weekend. It was great fun- we got to dress up and people treated us like royalty for three days. Also, my mom came to help with (read: save us) with Pookie. So all the times that DJ was busy with non-wife-invited events, the girls got to hang out and do fun things. Things like shopping, swimming, and going on a safari.

The greatness of the weekend made the return to the real world more than a little bit difficult for us all- instead of gently easing back into reality, toe-first, I was rudely shoved in and had to bear the shock of it all at once. Three days later I seem to be recovering, but only time will tell.

Little notes from along the way:
- Pookie has decided not to sleep at night. Apparently it is for the weak. So we have decided to cut out naptime after noon or so. It's like having my own Mogwai. So, as difficult as it is to deal with a little grouch-muffin when I get home from work, having her conk out around 11pm or so is much preferable to staying up until 3am because she isn't tired enough to shut it down.

-Pookie is also about thisclose to walking. She crawls over to something, yanks herself up, and then waves her arms out so you'll help her walk around. Eventually she'll probably just venture out on her own. I hope so - it will be really awkward to have to go to college with her because she has to have a death grip on my index fingers to ambulate at 18.

-FIVE PEOPLE asked me yesterday when we're having another child. Look at me, people! What about my birdnest hair, raccoon undereye circles, and inability to get to anything on time suggests that it would be a good idea to reproduce again anytime soon? I'll leave it to the Duggars, as they are the pros.

-We just had a going-away lunch for a friend at work who gets to go to New Zealand for a month. For work. As in "is getting paid to go to New Zealand". It's the first time I've been "career jealous" of anyone in a long time.

-I agreed to a photo shoot tomorrow to help out a friend, thinking it would be a 2 or 3-hour thing at the most. I just talked to him... 8 am to 4pm. Sheeyit. What should I ask for, compensation-wise, for giving up an entire Saturday to shoot little league team photos? It's at least in the $20,000 range. ha.

Hey, did you guys hear something?

We took advantage of Grandfather Mountain's "Dollar Days" promotion today, where the yokels of the local variety get into the park for one buckeroo. Not that I mind the usual $14 - I think it's very worth it. But a dollar? I'm there. Also, you don't feel bad about leaving the bridge when it's so freaking cold and the wind is blowing about 150 mph...you can just say, "Well, it was just a dollar."

I'll be honest. Watching the bears snag peanuts out of the air was the most productive thing I did all weekend.

I feel like my laziness was justifiable because we have something planned almost every weekend from here until football season, starting this week. Merlefest starts Thursday- I can't believe it's been a year since the last one. Maren will be joining us this year, and we even bought a special Pookie pack to haul her around in.

I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax...

There are some things that bother me, and in the past few days, 2 of them have surfaced as "things that REALLY bother me". Let me tell you about them!

1. The phone situation
When talking on my home phone (normal land-line), I get significant bleedover from my neighbor. Once I heard him buying pot (or perhaps oregano in strangely-measured quantities). This has been going on for a while, but last night while I was on the phone I heard him say, "Oh, my neighbor is trying to make a call." I had no idea he could hear ME. I'd assumed it was a one-way deal, and when he was really engrossed in conversation I'd just usually hang up and call back the person I was talking to later.
I don't know him all that well and he seems perfectly nice, but I DO know that he has a penchant for guns and knives, keeps rattlesnakes as pets, and owns the largest german shepherd I have ever seen.
This phone thing has been going on for ages, and it has now gone on much too long to ask him about it...I think I'll just call the phone company and see if they can fix it. I don't want to have some blazed-up viper sicced on me, you know?

2. That guy who is probably a murderer
This is a different guy. Like I said, I think that my neighbor is a nice guy.
This is a guy who I know. That's all the detail I'll give because I think he might be a sociopathic killah. A real "Body parts in the icebox" kind of dude.
In my life, I can think of maybe 3 people (including this one) who, if you saw on the CNN ticker they'd been arrested on multiple counts of murder and corpse abuse, you'd say, "Yeah, I can see that." This guy is definitely at the top of that pyramid. Every time I see him I pray he can't see in my eyes that I know his mind is squirming like a toad. Other people know it too, but they are too scared of him to say anything. Jeez, I hope he doesn't read this blog. Yeesh. Ummm ... hey, you guy there? Yeah, I'm totally not talking about you. Put down the mattock and lawn darts.

Bling bling and skinny genes

gI thought this was funny ... my photo of Tyler Hansbrough (last post) and the AP's photo. I think I might have been sitting near them, whatcha think? It did my ego some good to look through the wire photos and see that mine were on that level. I'm not generally impressed with myself, but it was nice to know that my work is basically industry-standard.

We had the National Championship banquet this weekend, where all the guys received their rings and we ate and drank and listened to speakers talk about stuff. (I was paying lots of attention, can you tell?) I was feeling pretty in a nice White House/Black Market dress that ended up being practically the same thing that everyone else was sporting - Black cocktail-length dress? Check! National Championship pendant? Check! Black heels? Check! We are GO for banquet!

---

This weekend I noticed 2 things that made me sad for this country. The first was this article. Seriously. Whaaaa? The second was this ad for "skinny jeans for baby" from Old Navy. Huh? Skinny jeans for your BABY?  Let me tell you something, Old Navy. My baby inherited the thigh genes from me, and I don't want her cursing me for it until she's at least 13. "Skinny jeans" in a size 6-12 months won't even fit on her chunky little arm.
The more I think about it the more it pisses me off.
Babies are supposed to have some meat on them 1.so they won't get dangerously underweight should they get sick 2. So that they have room to grow vertically and 3. So they have energy reserves for when they start walking and running around.
I'm adding this to all the other levels that skinny jeans offend me on.