Sunday, June 20, 2004
Bribery and no sense of smooth transitions
Apparently I should place an order for this book. So the near deaf can review it.
I'll get right on that.
So my weekend was to be filled with mass frenzy masked in preparation for my mother's arrival this week. However, I've not even begun the frenzy or the preparation. I don't even know what I have to do.
It rained - all day. I woke up a little broken. I think my neck and upper back were repeatedly whacked last night. Or I slept a little wonky. Who knows. My money's on the beating.
I had a strange dream last night. I bought 100 stamps. I assumed when you buy stamps in bulk from a machine where you need a card to get them (thanks to that small trip into the bank yesterday on the way to theater cafe for putting that idea in my head...) that the stamps will all look the same and have the same value. But they aren't. At least, not in my dreamworld. Strangely enough the value of the stamps ranged from 1 cent to 60 euros. And there were flowers on some, and jack-o-lanterns on others, and little stick people and simple houses like the ones I used to draw when I was little on others. Please don't ask. I cannot possible explain.
And don't ask me why, but I found the pictures here incredibly entertaining. The top 3 anyways.
It's too bad that this game got such horrible reviews. I was geeky enough to consider reading through the details. Yep, that's right.
Friday night was a good time. I didn't get to eat a falafel like I wanted, but I got to hang out with some people I don't see very often. And have some cider. The walk home was a little long. Especially at 3:30 in the morning or so. But the teriyaki vegetable stir fry that I whipped up when I got home was fab.
I was nearly convinced Friday night to invite folks to my place for a dinner thing, what with the new kitchen and all, but I mostly resisted. It might happen. But the menu for the evening wouldn't be 4 pages long. Much to the dismay, I'm sure, of some future possible guests.
Not much else to report about the weekend, not much excitement lately. Just a little torment and torture about smoothies. I'll get over it. Someday. I hope.
Every summer, we took road trips. The whole family would pile into either the station wagon, of the pretty pale blue variety, or the RV (I have no idea what color it was. But the fabric by the table was sticky all the time.). And then we would spend about one grueling and torturous week in this close, confined space while traveling at a not very quick speed across the country. Every other year or so, we stopped in Minnesota. And every alternate year, we'd go all the way to New Jersey. My mom's parents lived in St Paul. One year, probably somewhere around the time when I was just hitting double digits in age, we went to St Paul and before we got to grandma's house, my mom stopped to call home to let them know we'd be there in approximately some amount of time. We stopped right around the corner from the house, and she told them some slightly exaggerated time. So when we turned right off of McCarrons Blvd. and towards the driveway to my grandparents' house, I spotted grandpa on the lawn right next to the driveway leaning over and pounding on a little white cross with a rubber mallet.
We had a white poodle (Three, to be honest, but the oldest two were well on their way off the planet by the time I was born so I don't really recognize that we had them.) named Harold. "Harold the blue toothed king" to be precise. My mom named him. He was the runt of the litter of the other two white poodles we had. They were namedLily and Soc or....Luscious Lillian and Socrates the Great. My mom named all of them. She had a penchant for being verbose when naming her pets.
Harold got run over by a car one summer while we were in St Paul, about two or so summers before this incident. We buried him right next to my grandparents' driveway. And we put a white cross marking the spot where we buried him.
My grandpa gave me 25 cents to not tell my mom that he took the cross down as soon as we left two years before. What a generous bribe. I bought a Skor bar with that 25 cents. Thanks, grandpa. But I told her anyways.
Smoothies with chocolate are awesome. And required. Right now.
I'll get right on that.
So my weekend was to be filled with mass frenzy masked in preparation for my mother's arrival this week. However, I've not even begun the frenzy or the preparation. I don't even know what I have to do.
It rained - all day. I woke up a little broken. I think my neck and upper back were repeatedly whacked last night. Or I slept a little wonky. Who knows. My money's on the beating.
I had a strange dream last night. I bought 100 stamps. I assumed when you buy stamps in bulk from a machine where you need a card to get them (thanks to that small trip into the bank yesterday on the way to theater cafe for putting that idea in my head...) that the stamps will all look the same and have the same value. But they aren't. At least, not in my dreamworld. Strangely enough the value of the stamps ranged from 1 cent to 60 euros. And there were flowers on some, and jack-o-lanterns on others, and little stick people and simple houses like the ones I used to draw when I was little on others. Please don't ask. I cannot possible explain.
And don't ask me why, but I found the pictures here incredibly entertaining. The top 3 anyways.
It's too bad that this game got such horrible reviews. I was geeky enough to consider reading through the details. Yep, that's right.
Friday night was a good time. I didn't get to eat a falafel like I wanted, but I got to hang out with some people I don't see very often. And have some cider. The walk home was a little long. Especially at 3:30 in the morning or so. But the teriyaki vegetable stir fry that I whipped up when I got home was fab.
I was nearly convinced Friday night to invite folks to my place for a dinner thing, what with the new kitchen and all, but I mostly resisted. It might happen. But the menu for the evening wouldn't be 4 pages long. Much to the dismay, I'm sure, of some future possible guests.
Not much else to report about the weekend, not much excitement lately. Just a little torment and torture about smoothies. I'll get over it. Someday. I hope.
Every summer, we took road trips. The whole family would pile into either the station wagon, of the pretty pale blue variety, or the RV (I have no idea what color it was. But the fabric by the table was sticky all the time.). And then we would spend about one grueling and torturous week in this close, confined space while traveling at a not very quick speed across the country. Every other year or so, we stopped in Minnesota. And every alternate year, we'd go all the way to New Jersey. My mom's parents lived in St Paul. One year, probably somewhere around the time when I was just hitting double digits in age, we went to St Paul and before we got to grandma's house, my mom stopped to call home to let them know we'd be there in approximately some amount of time. We stopped right around the corner from the house, and she told them some slightly exaggerated time. So when we turned right off of McCarrons Blvd. and towards the driveway to my grandparents' house, I spotted grandpa on the lawn right next to the driveway leaning over and pounding on a little white cross with a rubber mallet.
We had a white poodle (Three, to be honest, but the oldest two were well on their way off the planet by the time I was born so I don't really recognize that we had them.) named Harold. "Harold the blue toothed king" to be precise. My mom named him. He was the runt of the litter of the other two white poodles we had. They were namedLily and Soc or....Luscious Lillian and Socrates the Great. My mom named all of them. She had a penchant for being verbose when naming her pets.
Harold got run over by a car one summer while we were in St Paul, about two or so summers before this incident. We buried him right next to my grandparents' driveway. And we put a white cross marking the spot where we buried him.
My grandpa gave me 25 cents to not tell my mom that he took the cross down as soon as we left two years before. What a generous bribe. I bought a Skor bar with that 25 cents. Thanks, grandpa. But I told her anyways.
Smoothies with chocolate are awesome. And required. Right now.
notes:
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