one heart cannot hold all of this

recent experiments:

shock and awe indeed. - 2:26 PM , Friday, Sept. 02, 2005

I grow old, but I prefer my trousers unrolled. - 9:30 AM , Monday, Aug. 22, 2005

it's all about the iPod - 10:00 AM , Thursday, Aug. 11, 2005

uncountable in showers of crimson rubies - 4:43 PM , Monday, Jul. 18, 2005

and I know it aches, and your heart it breaks... - 1:12 PM , Friday, Jul. 08, 2005

if you're this close, introduce yourself.

or, leave me a note.

It's so incredibly awful that I have to laugh

Monday, Apr. 26, 2004 ... 2:22 PM

Now Playing: Pete Yorn, "Burrito"

This is a good week for marriage. My parents are celebrating their 46th anniversary today [1] . My brother and his wife will be celebrating their 9th at our rehearsal dinner Thursday. And we will share an anniversary with The boy's parents�their 36th, I think, on Friday.

4 days.

*~*

When you have something big happening in your life, you (assuming that you are me) do things obsessively, like for instance, you check the weather a whole lot. Because if you look at Intellicast's forecast nine times in a day, you can maybe channel enough energy into the ether to make those showers hold off until Sunday.

*~*

I just talked to the priest who's marrying us about the ceremony program, which I had faxed to him last week to have a look at. Just to check it out, make sure I had everything in the right order, etc. I said, "I KNEW the minute I had finished printing them, you'd call," because I did, in fact, print them earlier today, about 120 of them.

"Well, did you find any problems with it?"

"Just that you misspelled 'prelude.' You have "predule."

I misspelled the FIRST WORD in the program.

*~*

[1] not that they're a ringing endorsement for the institution.

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Monday, Apr. 19, 2004 ... 12:12 PM

Now Playing: The Alarm, "Rain in the Summertime."

Yesterday was my sister's forty(*cough*)rd birthday. Friday was my niece's 2nd birthday. I had the card ready to go for my sister's birthday several weeks ago. I remembered my niece's birthday on Thursday afternoon. This gives credence to my theory that memory has a seniority function. Cathy's birthday has seniority over Tyler's in my brain, and always will, because I've been remembering Cathy's birthday for thirty (*cough*) years, and Tyler's for only 2. Last hired, first fired, and all that. There's only so much room in my brain, and it reached capacity several years ago. Anything new that gets added has approximately 33% chance of being retained. [1]

This is why I bought a PDA several years ago. It functions as extra disk space for my brain.

*~*

In the "careful what you wish for" department, the high for today is supposed to be 89. In the "unfortunate McDonald's reference" department, I'm lovin' it.

*~*

11 days from now, I will become somebody's wife.

*~*

[1] completely unscientific value;, but I figure that 1 out of every 3 new things I learn actually sticks with me.

*~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Friday, Apr. 09, 2004 ... 11:48 AM

Now Playing: The Clarks covering Bruce's "The River"

*~*

Some days time goes by like a waltz�slow, quickquick, slow quickquick. Some days it�s just the slow.

*~*

So here's a little nugget. There's a person in my department who apparently has such an overabundance of phlegm in his respiratory system that he finds it necessary to go into the restroom and hack it out at regular intervals. I am privy to this knowledge because my office is right across the hall from the restrooms. When I am in my office, I am never more than 50 feet away from a flushing toilet, it seems. Anyway. At least he goes into the restroom to do this, and spares the people in his end of the building from this horrible noise. That is a kindness. But that means that I am subjected to it at least 2 or 3 times a week (I have no idea how often he really does it; probably every day, but I only hear it when I'm in my office). And it is disturbing; it's not just your typical guy-hocking-a-loogey sound . I'd swear this guy is trying to forcibly eject a piece of lung.

On occasion I have to restrain myself from busting into the men's room and shouting, "Dude! That's sogross. Besides, you're going to, like, hurt yourself one of these days."

*~*

Condoleeza Rice. I don't even know where to start. I think I'll just leave you with, "Happy Friday."

*~*

And Happy Easter, if you're an Easter-celebrating person.

Friday, Apr. 02, 2004 ... 11:17 AM

Now Playing: Kris Delmhorst, Five Stories

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OK, here it is: our beloved Thing.

*~*

We figure you're supposed to put a votive candle in the top glass part, and call it a sconce or something. The question remains, though: Why? Why did someone actually create this?

*~*

Wednesday, Mar. 31, 2004 ... 11:31 AM

Now Playing:

*~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*

Spring is trying desperately to sproing here in the nation's ragweed capital. My nose has already let me know that things are blooming by itching and running constantly. The daffodils are standing tall, the dogwoods are barking, and cherry blossoms are bustin' out all over.

They were tricked. Mother Nature decided to throw another week of winter at us. Take that, suckers! It's not nice to fool Mother Nature.

I've also noticed a whole lot of yellow in the form of forsythia, which I've decided this year that I don't like. Even though yellow is one of my favorite colors, there's something about them that just isn't pretty to my eye. Maybe it's the lack of green. No leaves. They're basically just yellow and brown. It doesn't work for me.

*~*

I had another not-ready-for-the-wedding dream last night. The Boy wasn't even in this one. This one focused more on my family, which is fitting. There's been a lot of family turbulence in the past year.

This time it was the day before the wedding (I think) and I was staying in the house I grew up in, which is now my brother's house. I don�t remember much of this part; the family was there and we were doing normal family stuff. Then it was the big day, and suddenly it was noon, the photographer was due to arrive in an hour, and I'd completely forgotten my hair appointment. I was standing there half-dressed in my old bedroom, just shy of a full-blown panic, trying to figure out what the first step in Damage Control should be. Rush over to the beauty salon and hope they could take me immediately? Do something on my own with my hair? Attempt to apply makeup? Put my dress on? Enlist help from my posse? Where was the posse, anyway? Had I forgotten to tell them about their hair and makeup appointments, too? Were they even in town? I had no idea where anything was.

Then I realized that I'd left my veil/headpiece thingy in MD.

Then my sister (captain of the posse) and her husband walked in and told me that they were going for a quick bike ride and would be back in time for the wedding that afternoon. I pitched a fit that my sister was leaving me in my time of DIRE need, and she told me that she'd done enough already and was leaving me in the capable hands of my brother Mike, who was "fast and efficient at picking up the slack and cutting through the red tape." [1] I replied that while it was true that he had in fact said these things about himself and showed us all the red tape he'd cut through in his own life, he wasn't anywhere to be seen and wasn't actually doing anything in preparation for the wedding. She left anyway.

At that point, I think I just whimpered.

*~*

I had a shower last weekend (and a lovely bath last night. Thanks for asking). The shower was given by my soon-to-be mother- and sister-in-law. Many wonderful things were heaped upon us, and it felt a little weird. I don't know if I expressed enough gratitude. I don't know that it's possible to express enough gratitude when people just keep handing you more and more stuff.

There were two standout gifts, one for its amazing unexpected perfection, and one for its ability to induce head-scratching . I'm torn about posting a picture of it. It feels mean-spirited to make fun of a gift. I don't mean to do that, especially since the woman who gave it to us is the sweetest (and tiniest) little old lady you can imagine, and she meant so very well.

However, I'd love to have a contest to see who can come up with the cleverest use for this object. So if anyone can assuage my guilt and tell me it's not mean and awful to poke fun at this gift, I might post a photo.

*~*

Speaking of posting things, I think a Really Big Jerk is sending me tons of spam, and I'm pissed. I bought (or attempted to buy) a used book from RBJ via Amazon a couple of months ago. RBJ collected my money and never sent the book and only sent one very lame attempt at an explanation ("I AM NO LONGER WITH AMAZON- LET ME CHECK THE POST OFFICE TO SEE IF IT WAS RETURNED.") yeah, right. It wasn't returned, because you never sent it, you asshole. Anyway, I checked RBJ's buyer feedback and apparently s/he did this to a bunch of people before becoming "no longer with" Amazon. So I sent one last email saying that if RBJ did not refund my money, I would file a claim against RBJ with Amazon (not expecting that s/he would really care, but it was my only recourse). I heard nothing, so I filed a claim, and eventually Amazon refunded my money.

And then the amount of spam I receive increased exponentially. I figure RBJ got pissed off that I ratted him/her out to Amazon, and put my email address (which I don't use for any web-related stuff; I have a yahoo address for that purpose, but I set up my account with Amazon before things like this occurred to me, and believe me I've changed the address on my Amazon account now) ) all over the freaking net so that I would get tons of spam. Which I now am. Joy.

*~*

[1] a paraphrased Cake lyric, thankyouverymuch.

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Monday, Mar. 29, 2004 ... 1:13 PM

Now Playing:

*~*

A couple that I know only tangentially to my life is apparently splitting. I can't explain why this makes me sad beyond the obvious bad-things-happening-to-good-people vibe. They're only acquaintances, and what I know about their relationship is only on the superficial level of what they want people to see. So I haven't the slightest idea why they're breaking up, or what it's like to be them, and yet in my world, this feels like something that Wasn't Supposed to Happen.

I felt the same way in my early 20s when my older brother and sister's first marriages fell victim(s) to their various problems, although for a somewhat different reason. At the time I felt that neither my brother nor my sister were capable of making a serious, life-altering mistake. I thought that they always knew what they were doing. And to see that they had both made a wrong choice was a frightening thing for me, because I felt that if they couldn�t do it right, I would sure as hell mess it up too. For a long time after this, I thought maybe I just wouldn't get married. That way, no mistakes.

What didn't occur to me then was that it wasn�t my siblings' responsibility to pave the way for me to follow later. It wasn't their job to set an example, and it never had been, despite the fact that I was constantly being held up to their examples to see how I measured up. But we each choose our own paths and even though our common upbringing may have influenced us to make similar choices, I would still have to figure out for myself if I wanted the married life

And I have just as much of a shot of getting it right (or wrong) as they did. I know this now.

Similarly, it is not the job of these two people I know somewhat to be evidence that true, lifelong love really can flourish in this day and age. But that was how they appeared to me, a casual observer. Truly in love. Going the distance. In it for the long haul.

It doesn't scare me anymore. It doesn't make my feet go cold or give me second thoughts. I feel surer of what I'm about to do than I've ever felt in my life, and this does nothing to change that.

But it does make me sad.

*~*

Thursday, Mar. 11, 2004 ... 12:21 PM

Now Playing: Joe Ely, "The Road Goes on Forever," from Live at Antone's.

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So� what makes you mad about Bush's 9/11 campaign ads?

What makes me really angry is that he's trying to take credit somehow for the U.S's response to it. While it's true that he sent us to Afghanistan and (temporarily at least) wiped out the Taliban and (temporarily at least) sent Al Qaeda further underground�and that was a hugely popular action�this country pulled together because that's what people do in times of tragedy. NOT because we had Bush II in the White House. The human race deserves credit for that (come on, it wasn't just the US even), and he's trying to make it appear that he somehow made it happen. Just because a good thing happened while you were standing there doesn't mean you caused it, Sparky. Perhaps it happened in spite of you.

*~*

Oh. And this. I've gotta say, bravo, HoR. People need to start taking responsibility for their own actions again.

*~*

I've been earwormed all day with Huey Lewis and the News's "Back in Time." Why? Why have I been cursed?

*~*

I had the greatest salad for dinner last night. It went something like this:

Ellen's Good-Carbs-Only-Please Mexican-Type-Salad

-Lettuce�whatever kind you like but I recommend something crispy and firm like romaine; it�s got a lot of stuff to stand up to

-Other salad elements of choice (I had red bell pepper and some scallion; would have liked fresh tomatoes if I'd had any)

-about 1/4 good-n-ripe avocado, little chunks

-a little more cheddar cheese [1] than you really should, also little chunks but grated would be fine

-a handful of black beans (I used rinsed canned)

-dressing: who needs dressing on a salad this packed with flava? I squeezed a lime over it and seasoned with a bit of salt, pepper, and a sprinklin' of cumin.

godDAMN, it was good.

*~*

[1] I really dig Cabot's 50% Light Cheddar. As reduced-fat cheese go, it's pretty durn good.

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Wednesday, Mar. 10, 2004 ... 10:56 AM

Now Playing: The Nields, "Fountain of Youth"

*~*

Call off Spring, it's snowing outside. Sheesh.

*~*

So Sniper #1 has been sentenced to death. I am against the death penalty as a rule, but for a second time I find myself feeling that I'm not going to lose any sleep over this one (the first time was Timothy McVeigh's execution). And this time, I'm not so sure why. With McVeigh, it was a clearer feeling for me; I talked about it here and don't want to rehash the whole thing but it came down to the fact that he just wasn't sorry and probably went to his death thinking he'd only done what needed to be done. I don't know that that's true of Muhammed. He's still denying that he killed anyone. More than that, actually-- it would be one thing for him to say, "I never pulled the trigger."[1] He's not saying that. He's saying "I had nothing to do with it." Come on, dude. Give us a better story than that.

Maybe that's partly why I'm less disturbed about killing this guy. We have no freaking clue why he did what he did, and he's not talking. When all of this started, I remember thinking," someone is trying to send a message; whenever they're caught, we'll find out what their agenda is. " But we still have nothing; there's no explanation.

I still believe that it's not our place to dole out ultimate judgment, but what do you do with someone who�s shown so little respect for other human life? I would prefer that each of these people have the rest of their lives to consider their place in the world and how they�ve changed it. It's a far more effective punishment, in my opinion, to give a criminal years and years to think about what s/he's done. At the same time, I can't disagree that it's unfair to make the rest of us pay to support the criminals for the rest of their lives. So where does that leave us? Unless someone comes up with an effective way to harness the work force of life-sentencees, we're probably going to be stuck with the death penalty.

The argument that killing Muhammed will only serve to render his children fatherless is sort of a moot point to me. His children are already "fatherless" in my opinion; how much parenting can take place from behind the walls of a maximum-security prison? Maybe it would be better for those kids to have a chance to start fresh with a dad that doesn't go ballistic and murder people at random just because life isn't dealing him the cards he wants. He might have been a loving father to the kids, but just because you can manage to be decent to 5 people in the world doesn't really make you a decent person. It doesn't compensate for your cruelty towards the rest of the planet.

I still think it's wrong to kill him simply for the reason that killing is wrong. But as with McVeigh, I can't offer any suggestion of what do with him as long as he's alive.

I doubt that the judge will sentence Lee Malvo to death. I suspect that most people (his jury at least; probably also the judge) will see a 19-year-old kid as having the potential to be "saved." What I wonder is, how much effect will the execution of his mentor have on his reformation? How long will it take before he stops seeing Muhammed as a martyr to their cause? Whatever their cause was�

*~*

[1] and the thing that it would be is Hanging His Protegee Out to Dry. Because no one with two brains cells to rub together would try to say, "it wasn't us; we were in Cleveland at the time." The evidence that it was someone in that particular car pulling the trigger of that particular rifle is pretty overwhelming, so to say, "it wasn't me," is by necessity to say, "it was him."

*~*

Tuesday, Mar. 09, 2004 ... 9:40 AM

Now Playing: Patty Larkin, "Day to Day"

*~*

Am I on crack for wanting this album? It�s so right and yet so, so wrong.

*~*

I saw George Winston live once, from like the second row. He played at my school when I was a grad student, and having recently discovered his music, I was stoked to go see him. So I got a group of my friends together, and we got tickets. Then, like grad students often do, we decided to make a Big Evening Out of it. We started with a big potluck dinner before the show, and like idiots occasionally do, we decided to make it an all-Indian potluck. We were idiots, you see, because the last thing you want to do before going off to sit in a cozy theater in plush comfy chairs, listening to soothing groovy piano music in the dark, is fill your belly with creamy starchy curries.

Poor George, playing his heart out onstage, and eight nerds nodding off in the second row.

*~*

The baby dream was odd, I guess, mainly because I've never had one before. Aside from that, the things in it that were strange to the naked eye are par on my course. Which is to say that my dreams are WEIRD.

For one thing, she came out blue. I don't mean lack-of-oxygen blue. I mean turquoise. It was in fact because of lack of oxygen, because she turned regular old fleshy pink once she was given a little swat on the butt and made to take a breath. But before that, the blue color was amazing.

I know where this particular nugget of dream came from � one of my all-time favorite books, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Francie's aunt Sissy has a series of stillborn children over the course of 10 years or so, until she finally decides to give a doctor- assisted hospital birth a try (giving birth at home with a midwife was far more common then). The baby comes out blue and she thinks she's had another stillborn until she hears one magic word from the doctor, "Oxygen!" And after a little shot of O2, the baby's fine.

After that, there's a section of dream that I don't remember any details of, I just remember that the baby had a distinct personality from the start. I don't remember ever hearing or noting that it was a girl, it was just something intrinsic to the dream� another common feature of my dreams. Things are never stated, they are just understood to be so, even if they appear different. A good example of this is that people in my dreams often show up with different bodies. I might be looking at the face of a boy I knew in grade school, but somehow I know that it's really my brother. And so forth.

The main feature of this personality was that she was filled with the absolute joy of Being a Baby. She reveled in her babyhood. She didn't just sleep, she luxuriated in her crib, like a cat stretching its length to take up every bit of space possible. She wriggled with pleasure when she was put down to sleep and her mouth stretched into an eyes-squeezed-shut grin when I picked her up to feed her. She loved being a baby.

One morning, at home once again, I picked her up to change her. She grinned at me , eyes still shut, and said (in some form of thought that I somehow understood), "I don't believe I'm finished poopin' yet." Then she wriggled some more (and finished, I guess).

The last detail I remember is the realization hitting me that I had an actual baby. This came in the form of my putting her back in her crib and sighing that I had to get ready for work and thinking about all that I had to do that day. Then it slowly dawned on me that I wasn't going to work. There was a real baby in that crib, a brand-new baby, and it was my job to care for her. I wouldn�t be going back to work for many weeks.

I was considerably nonplussed by this.

*~*

Friday, Mar. 05, 2004 ... 1:20 PM

Now Playing: the Kojo Namdhi Show.

*~*

Did you know that anyone can be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize? Anyone. Someone even nominated George W.

AN-EEEE-ONE.

So how come I haven't been nominated yet?

*~*

I wore wool socks today, which was a big mistake. They're thin, not like the big heavy hiking-type socks I sometimes wear, and I do work in a climate-controlled building, but still. It's like my feet know that it's 75 degrees out and what the hell am I thinking putting wool socks on them? In fact, what am I even doing burdening them with shoes? They're itchy and I think possibly planning a revolt. They had a taste of the cotton sock life yesterday, and they're remembering how free-n-easy it felt, and they're just not going to put up with my damned overprotective warm wool socks any more.

That, or maybe I just didn't let the moisturizer soak in well enough before I put my socks on this morning.

*~*

Thursday, Mar. 04, 2004 ... 10:25 PM

Now Playing: The loving hum of my G4.

*~*

This is what "Spring is Coming" looks like in my language:

And this is what it looks like when a whole yard wants to tell you that Spring is Coming:

*~*

Wednesday, Feb. 11, 2004 ... 11:25 AM

Now Playing: The Specials, "Ghost Town"

*~*

But I didn't tell you the best part. My favorite thing about this morning business is that (at least for now) I see the sun rise and set every day, because that's what it's doing on my drive to and from work. And maybe it's all the solar storms we had a while back or maybe it's just that my perspective has changed, but I swear I've seen some of the most fabulously life-changing sunrises and sunsets lately.

I don't really know what else to say about that.

*~*

Wednesday, Feb. 11, 2004 ... 8:09 AM

Now Playing: Travis, "Turn"

*~*

I'm a morning person now. Did I mention that?

No, I'm still not a morning person, but I've been living amongst them for months and it's going pretty well. I haven't fallen asleep in the middle of any sentences yet.

I used to think that there was no way I could change my sleeping habits and worried about what I'd do if I had a kid, but I'm not so worried anymore. It's not impossible; it wasn't even hard. I'm at work between 7 and 7:15 these days, which means I'm awake at 5:30 or so. And being awake at 5:30 is not really any worse than being awake at 7. Falling asleep at night is not a problem either, because once you've awakened at 5:30 for a day or two, you do in fact get sleepy earlier than you did when you awoke at 7. It's just a matter of removing yourself from the things that make you want to stay awake, and letting your body get ready for sleep. Getting your sorry ass whipped by a run or a weight training session or something equally stimulating helps, too. I also get by on less sleep than I used to. 7 hours is plenty during the week.

*~*

Don't be fooled, though. I still love to sleep.

*~*

It helps that there's a benefit. Getting to work by 7:30 and leaving at 5 every day means that I get 80 hours in in 9 days instead of 10. Thus I have what the government calls a Flex Day every other week. It's what Ellen calls "3 Day Weekend, woo hoo!"

*~*

Friday, Feb. 06, 2004 ... 1:18 PM

Now Playing: Paul Simon, "Kodachrome"

*~*

So here is where I fall off the edge into old-fossil-dom. Because I'm about to talk about how they don't make 'em like the used to.

The simple truth is that if I went out and bought an electric can opener today, I wouldn't expect it to last more than 5, maybe 10 years. But my parents are still using the one they got as a wedding present. That would be 45+ years ago, campers. The same is true of their Waring blender. My mom gave it to me a few years ago because she never used it anymore. This was cool to me because it�s the same blender she used to make us milkshakes in when we were kids. [1] I actually killed it this past Christmas; I used it to crush candycanes. And it's not like the motor burned out, even. The bottom part where the blade is held to the glass part must have rusted through, because it came apart. But still. 45 years. I'm registering for one just like it, and I know Waring makes excellent blenders, but I still doubt it will last 45 years.

*~*

[1]It holds the same position in my mind as the enamel pot she used to heat up milk for cocoa.

Tuesday, Feb. 03, 2004 ... 11:33 AM

Now Playing: "Brown-Eyed Women", Cornell 5-8-77

*~*

We're taking dance lessons, and as goofy as that is, I'm really glad we're doing it. Stupid things like this show you whether or not you're a good team in ways that nothing else can, and I think it's better to be able to find out in a setting where the outcome isn't really critical to anything. If all else fails, I can live with looking stupid on a dance floor.

*~*

Plus, The Boy looks positively adorable concentrating on trying not to count aloud.

*~*

I need to find a different job. Anyone in the DC area need a Rock Star with strong molecular biology and computing skills?

*~*

I will be so profoundly disappointed in this country if we re-elect The Chimp. I mean it. It was bad enough that we let it happen the first time. If this country doesn't take a look at the events of the past year and what they mean, I will just cry. We have to realize that the guy in the White House has an agenda and nothing � least of all morals or ethics-- will stop him from making his testosterone-y statement to the world. He wants to be a cowboy, and he wants all those Big Bad Guys out there to know that there's a new sheriff in town, and he's not gonna take no guff from nobody. He doesn't care that he's pissed away whatever trust our allies might have had in us, and for what? We got rid of one bad dictator, that I'll grant, and that was a Good Thing, but I'm really not sure that "end"(it's not, let's be honest) justifies the means. And now�. are we now going to desert the people whose country we annihilated for the sake of his self-righteousness? Like we did in Afghanistan?

Was it flawed intelligence leading him to an otherwise reasonable conclusion? Does it matter? I just don't believe that he's innocent, because all of the people who were in a position to give him the information work for him, and would have been more than willing to give him exactly what he wanted to hear. And every time someone asks him about who's accountable for that information, he deflects the question by saying that we got rid of that terrible man and that was the right thing to do, period. There's this imperious attitude surrounding the whole thing, as if they're saying "we know better than you do so stop asking questions." Well I don't want to stop asking questions. And I don't believe anymore that you know better than me.

I heard a news blurb on NPR last week about how there will be a full investigation of the intelligence surrounding 9/11 and the war on Iraq. I wonder if they'd mind also checking into the intelligence surrounding the White House. Like for instance� is there any intelligence happening there? they further went on to say that the search for weapons of mass destruction will continue until they are found.

Would that be anything like OJ's ongoing search for Nicole's real killer?

*~*

Would it be in terribly bad form to play "You Shook Me All Night Long" at my wedding? I wouldn't, like, dedicate it to anyone.

*~*

Tuesday, Jan. 27, 2004 ... 12:48 PM

Now Playing: Squeeze, "Cool for Cats"

*~*

Greetings from The Nation's Freezing Rain capital. Actually I'm at a government research facility just outside the capital, and I can assure you that very few of your tax dollars are being spent on snow and ice removal at government research facilities. I'm seriously considering taking a salt shaker out to the car with me when I leave today.

*~*

There was one other thing I meant to add to the list from yesterday:

4. Where is Saddam Hussein? I don't want the literal answer; I'm sure he's being held (and beaten daily) in some dank hole under Guantanamo Bay (or some equally friendly place). But, hey. Where'd he go? For the past year he's been Public Enemy One, so we bomb the hell out of his country, kill his family and friends and use his name in every invective we can think of. Then when he's finally caught? We get a weekend of gaping at his tonsils and then� nothing. Silence. I know more about Ben-n-Jen's breakup then I do about the incarceration of the world's currently-most-reviled dictator. Is there really nothing at all to tell us about the guy since he's been caught?

*~*

I was listening to NPR earlier but I had to leave the room because Pat Robertson was on and I had a strong urge to vomit.

OK, actually I listened to the whole damned thing, and did you know that it's possible to cringe for an hour without stopping? It's people like him that make me want to take out an ad in the New York Times saying, "Attention all nonchristians/gays/residents of Calcutta/etc etc: we don't all think like that. Thank you. Carry on. " I really feel a little embarrassed to be a practicing Christian when I hear the pronouncements of some of our "best and brightest." *eyeroll*

I'm Catholic, though, so even I'm a little suspect to his brand of Christianity.

*~*

Another thing I was listening to this morning was talking about 9/11 and figuring out who was to blame for it. That's a gross oversimplification, of course; I can see where it's important to find out what went wrong in the intelligence/communication system. I can see where it's important to figure out the best way to keep the country's doors carefully watched but not completely barricaded. What I can't see is the value in placing blame. I actually heard someone say that it was important especially to the families of 9/11 victims to be able to have someone to blame (again, I may be oversimplifying the point, but they did mention seeking to place blame quite specifically). I just don't get that. Having someone's shoulders to dump the blame on isn't going to bring anyone back, and it isn't even going to make us any safer in the future. For one thing, it's not likely to be one person or one agency or even one country. A very long chain of events and arguments has led us to this place. And if you went the opposite direction and narrowed it down to the immigrational bungling that allowed a specific 19 people into the US, where would you be? 'Cause someday there's going to be someone who was born right in this here US of A who feels the same way and feels it strongly enough to do make a grand gesture, too. Whose fault will it be then?

*~*

Somewhere out there is a place that's cool
where peace and balance are the rule
working toward a future like some kind of mystic jewel
and waiting for a miracle

*~*

Monday, Jan. 26, 2004 ... 11:47 AM

Now Playing: Radiohead, "Electioneering"

*~*

Remember that candy that was too pretty to eat? I ate it all. It was good. Almost like chocolate. Not exactly, but almost.

*~*

Some Things that Make Ellen Wonder:

1. Am I the only one who find it strange that we impeached our last president over whether he stretched the truth about �cheating on his wife, while no one's making a move to do anything about whether our current president stretched the truth about� our justification for attacking another country?

2. Why are we told when we are young that it's important to be well-rounded, only to find out when we reach adulthood that well-roundedness is not valued at all? Let's face it, as much as we all claim to "have a life" outside of work, none of our employers really respect that life, so it's OK that we have one as long as we're willing to minimize it whenever the job requires it. We learn a nice round complement of subjects in school so that we can be great conversationalists with people who only talk about one thing; stimulating and interesting friends to the people that we have no time to see.

3. Why didn't anyone tell me that Willy Porter had a live album out??

*~*

Thursday, Jan. 22, 2004 ... 1:52 PM

Now Playing: Whiskeytown, "A Song for You."

*~*

Ha ha, look. Apparently Whiskeytown puts me in the mood to journal-ize.

*~*

My boss brought me some candy this morning, in celebration of the Chinese new year. It's too pretty to eat though. One thing is a little tube made to look like a firecracker and I can't figure out how to get the candy out of it. The other is a little cellophane bag with a mandarin-collar-pajama-wearing panda on the front, filled with what looks like pebbles. In shade of mauve, slate blue, sage, red, and black. Way too pretty to eat.

*~*

I'm a Dog, which means that in addition to being loyal, faithful, honest, trustworthy and having a firm code of ethics, I'm duty-bound and I root for the underdog. According to Chinese.astrology.com, "The Dog's mantra seems to be, Live right, look out for the little people and fight injustice whenever possible." In reality, I'm way lazier than that. I do fight injustice whenever possible, but sometimes it's just not possible to raise myself from the couch.

Also, I don't go in for light social banter, I cut right to the topics most important to me. At these times my stubborn side can rear its ugly head, and I have trouble staying "light and calm" (read: keeping my voice down) when an important issue is at stake.

I don't think the stuff about mood swings is true of me; I'm pretty even-keeled. I do like a little solitude at times, though. My favorite part is the following, which is so laughably true: "Dogs need to work on controlling their irrational worries and would also be well-served to relax their mile-high standards, which can sometimes wind up alienating the ones they love."

*~*

Friday, Nov. 21, 2003 ... 12:08 PM

Now Playing: A Song for You, Whiskeytown's version on the "Return of the Grevious Angel" tribute. so beautiful. sigh.

*~*

You know what I am going to be a control freak about, though? Yes, of course you do- it's the music. We're not hiring a DJ and we're not having a band, either, because I just can't see paying that kind of money for what we'd get in return. I'm not one of those people who can only stand to hear the perfect studio version of a song�on the contrary, I plan to play a lot of recorded live music�but I don't want what the DJ or band is going to have on its playlist.

So I'm "doing" the music myself, the way some people do their own flowers or dresses or whatever. Thank God for iTunes, which is making this kind of fun.

And I know somewhere deep in my brain that I'll never get it all perfect either; for one thing, the music that I'm so carefully picking and arranging will have to be edited a LOT; I've barely even started on the playlists and already they're each over an hour long. For another thing, after all the care I'm putting into each song choice, I know damn well that I won't even hear (read: be conscious of) half of them.

That's where the control freak part ends. I might be anal retentive in the choosing and arranging, but once it's playing, I'm not really going to think about it.

The Boy's job will be to set up the stereo, though I am trying to include a fair amount of selections from his puny music collection. I just don't know how many of the Hits of the 80s I can stand.

My big brother is going to be our emcee; he's fun and at ease talking in front of a lot of people. There won't be much ceremony to master, but I am confident that he will know what to say and when to say it.

*~*

Thursday, Nov. 13, 2003 ... 4:06 PM

Now Playing: Bruce Cockburn, "Lovers in a Dangerous Time"

*~*

I HATE that Warren Zevon did a cover of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" on his last album. It becomes so much more... well, more when the person singing it knows that they are. I can't hear it without thinking about what he must have been thinking about. It's a version of the song that I just can't enjoy.

*~*

Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2003 ... 11:29 AM

Now Playing: Big Head Todd and the Monsters, "Resignation Superman"

*~*

It's where we went, most days. Until we were old enough to be allowed our own escape methods, it was our afternoon plans probably 4 days out of 5. It was our Mercy House. She needed us to pay the bills, read the mail, set the table, but we needed her more. Her nearly-sightless eyes got us out from under the bloodshot glare of our father at home.

At her house, there was no rage, no angry muttering. We were part of a normal family. Our father was no picnic, but our Grandmere was the picnic and a parade and a gold star on everyone's paper. There was beef stew served on plates that were somehow more perfectly round than ours at home, a fading ring of flowers around the border of each one. Three kinds of flowers; I set the table so that I and my favorite person of the day would get the best flowers. There was always rye bread for mopping up the stew� the seedless kind; Grandmere had diverticulosis.

We weren't a nuisance or a symbol of anyone's failures. We were miniature accountants or landscapers or eventually chauffeurs. We were safe and important and everyone always got their own box of pretzels.

Friday, Oct. 24, 2003 ... 2:54 PM

Now Playing: The sound of the Typhoon scanner. Don't ask. It's way too high-tech for you to understand.

*~*

I forgot to mention that in the time since I stopped writing-- but before the engagement thing-- I also sold my house and moved in with the boy. A few weeks before we got engaged, my mom asked my sister if she thought I'd made a mistake moving in with him. Cow, free milk, etc. My sister said, "relax, mom."

It'd only been about 2 months since I'd moved.

Mothers are interesting people.

*~*

Also, I chopped all of my hair off.

Well, most of my hair.

*~*

Friday, Oct. 24, 2003 ... 9:03 AM

Now Playing: The HVAC's ninth symphony. This is a noisy building.

*~*

I've decided that the tripping thing is an artifact. It only happens at work, and only when I'm walking on a certain part of my floor. I thought that sleepiness might be a contributing factor, since it seems to happen more first thing in the morning. But I don't know.

*~*

I think I'm actually going to be happy if the Marlins win the World Series, because then all the Yankee haters might just shut up already.

*~*

Tuesday, Oct. 07, 2003 ... 1:09 PM

Now Playing: The Indigo Girls doing "Midnight Train to Georgia."

I've been almost-tripping a lot lately. You know when your foot isn't quite high enough off the ground and you start to stumble but you catch yourself (hopefully) before anyone notices? Or in my case, there's no one around to notice, because I now get to work at the ungodly hour of 7:30AM. Strangely, getting up at 6AM doesn't feel so ungodly anymore.

i'm starting to wonder if gravity fluctuates. Perhaps it's pulling extra hard on me lately.

*~*

I'm finding that the most fun part of planning a wedding [1] is researching honeymoon destinations.

*~*

[1] if we can be said to actually be doing this. It's all still theory at this point; we haven't even decided on a date yet.

Friday, Oct. 03, 2003 ... 11:04 AM

Now Playing: NPR news

Frost on my windshield this morning! Yeesh. In this part of the country, when it's time for the weather to change, it changes NOW, it changes FAST, and it changes BIG. Couldn't we have a few more weeks of autumn, please?

*~*

I am now the owner of an engagement-type ring. I qualify it because it's not your typical diamond solitaire. For one thing, it's not a diamond. It's a purpley blue sapphire, flanked on either side by a few little diamond baguettes. Because I like color. It doesn't sit very high off my finger, either; that would have been really uncomfortable under the gloves I often need to wear in lab. And I would have been afraid of catching it on everything.

I had all these ideas about nontraditional rings or even skipping the engagement ring altogether. The Boy seemed pretty enthusiastic about getting a ring, though, and who am I to turn down a sparkly bauble? I soon discovered that a lot of the groovy modern-looking chunky things I was picking up and trying on totally overwhelmed my freakish little twig fingers, and looked really stupid. So I ended up with something simple and slim. And it suits me just fine.

And now I'm going to order the "Reserved" sign to hang around The Boy's neck. Hey, if I'm wearing something that designates me as taken, he should too.

*~*

Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 ... 12:04 PM

Now Playing: DMB, "Warehouse."

In other news, I'm taking yoga again and loving it, again. This class is harder than the one I took before, and I really feel stretched in a way that I wasn't feeling the first time. And the class is making me very conscious of how bad my posture is. That in itself is a good thing, though improving one's pasture is pretty hard work. It requires constant diligence, really.

Monday, Sept. 29, 2003 ... 8:33 PM

Now Playing: the hum of my G4.

See, that's what happens when whim overrides wisdom with regard to lack of time to write in one's journal.

*~*

Everyone [1] keeps telling me that The Wedding is going to consume my life for the next [however long till it actually happens]. My stock answer is, of course, "Pshyeah, right. No it's not." I am surprised, though, by how much changed in that one little moment. It's only now, a few weeks later, that I'm fully realizing and noticing all the things that are changing. But really it was all set in motion by that one moment.

*~*

[1] meaning 3 books and everyone I know who's gotten married in the past 5 years.