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I can't remember the last time it's rained on Halloween, but it sure did tonight. Not a downpour, but a steady light rain that didn't discourage all the trick or treaters, but enough of them to make it a rather boring evening, and to have left us with a lot of candy. Unfortunately (for me), Michael chose the candy this year, and there's not a bit of chocolate in the lot. Nothing I like at all, just Skittles, Starburst (yes, Jonathan, Starburst), and something called Willy Wonka's Nerd Rope. All full size, of course, and very popular with the kids, just not with me.
The food coloring that I used for the blood-shot eyes effect diffused a bit with time. I'll have to try a different way of making the blood next year.
- Location:Transylvania
- Mood:
artistic - Music:The Retro Cocktail Hour Halloween special
Anyone who reads this who is within driving distance of Baltimore should hasten to Center Stage and see their current production of The Importance of Being Earnest by Mr. Oscar Wilde, a man of great genius and wit. Luke Robertson as Algy is wonderful, Laurence O'Dwyer as Lady Bracknell is fabulous (but when is he not?), and the whole production was fantastic. Of course, the material with which they worked is beyond compare, and the company did it justice.
"The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means."
- Location:Half-Moon Street, W.
- Mood:
impressed - Music:"Come Into the Garden, Maud"
- Mood: thankful
- Music:Zydeco
Because he's such a big fellow, they didn't have an Elizabethan collar that fit, so they duct-taped two collars together, which did the trick, but means I couldn't remove the collar to put him in the back seat of the Mini. Yesterday, loading him into the car on the trip to the vet, he went in the back seat, up into the front seat, and started to climb out the window before I ran around to the other side and pushed him back in. Today an assistant helped me guide his head and the collar into the back seat, where it was a very tight fit.
On the ride home, he attempted to squeeze his head in between the front seats and I was afraid that he'd choke himself. Somehow he managed to get the entire collar on the driver's side, and so he and I shared the collar for a short time before he retreated into the back seat, and panted and drooled the whole way home and for the next hour as well. And he stood up most of the way as well, completely blotting out any view through the rear view mirrow.
He manages to maneuver the collar over the food and water bowls, and he can get down the stairs to go out into the yard, but he can't pick his head up enough to clear the stairs on the way back up, so I have to take him up around the hill on the side yard and in through the front door. And to add to his misery, the poor boy is constipated, but wants to go out hourly to give it another try.
- Location:Up and down the stairs
- Mood:
anxious
A great new novel, <I>Johannes Cabal the Necromancer</i> by Jonathan L. Howard, is now available in your local UK bookstores and on Amazon.uk (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Johannes-Cabal-N
"Johannes Cabal has never pretended to be a hero of any kind.
There is, after all, little heroic about robbing graves, stealing occult volumes, and being on nodding terms with demons. His purpose, however, is noble. His researches are all directed to raising the dead. Not as monstrosities but as people, just as they were when they lived: physically, mentally, and spiritually. For such a prize, some sacrifices are necessary. One such sacrifice was his own soul, but he now sees that was a mistake – it’s not just that he needs it for his research to have validity, but now he realises he needs it to be himself. Unfortunately, his soul now rests within the festering bureaucracy of Hell. Satan may be cruel and capricious but, most dangerously, he is bored. It is Cabal’s unhappy lot to provide him with amusement.
In short, a wager: in return for his own soul, Cabal must gather one hundred others. Placed in control of a diabolical carnival – created to tempt to contentiousness, to blasphemy, argumentation and murder, but one may also win coconuts – and armed only with his intelligence, a very large handgun, and a total absence of whimsy, Cabal has one year.
One year to beat the Devil at his own game. And isn’t that perhaps just a little heroic?"
Those of us in the US will have to wait until July 7. Place your orders now!
- Mood: jubilant
- Location:Hiding upstairs
- Mood:
irritated
- Mood:
nervous
- Location:The pits of Hell
- Mood:
hot - Music:Weezer, Red Album
As usual, we DVRd "House" on Fox last night and started watching it about a half an hour after it began. It was about 15 minutes from the end, when it suddenly switched to "Gossip Girl," on the CW, a completely different station! The DVR menu read that "House" had recorded for an hour, so there's no possibility that, say, I went insane and programmed it for 45 minutes of "House" and 15 minutes of "Gossip Girl" (as if).
So now we don't know what happened, and it was building up to a pretty important scene between Cameron and Chase. Damn it! And damn Comcast and their cheesy DVR too. That thing is often unreliable, but nothing like this has happened before.
- Mood:
confused
drainedI don't believe that I will be returning to the Bonefish Grill after last night. First, the noise level was deafening. I could barely hear the people sitting next to me, although I had no problem hearing the cackling of the group of women at an adjacent table. Yes, they were just having a good time, and they were entitled to it, but it grated on my nerves nonetheless. Then when you thought it couldn't get any louder, they cranked up the Musak. Then I ordered an expensive fancy martini, and spilled half of it on the table and myself because I set it down the edge of the table extension that was at a 45 degree angle. Partly my fault, but the table should have been straight. Then the kitchen got backed up (and we got there at 5 p.m., people!) and it was 30 minutes between our appetizers and our entrees. Thank heavens 20-month-old Liam was having a good time and not in a fussy mood. The manager did come out and apologize (we hadn't complained, but our waiter asked her to) and offered to comp us salads or soups, but we didn't want them, we wanted to fill up on our entrees, not salads. But they didn't comp the glass of wine I ordered while waiting, oh no. Then when my filet arrived, it has some sort of chili-based rub on it, which I disliked but could put up with. THEN, part way through the steak, I found A Hair. I was too tired to complain, I just cut off that piece and put it aside. I am still kicking myself that I let that pass.
Because there is no way to punish the kitchen without punishing the server, we did not stiff our attentive (and overly familiar -- he called all the women at the table, old enough to be his grandmother, mother, and much older sister, "sweetie) waiter.
To add insult to injury, when I made some Jiffy Pop as a snack later, the foil tore open and a third of the popcorn burned, a third of the kernels never popped at all, and the kernels that did pop tasted scorched. Sigh. Not a good night for food.
- Mood:
hungry
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1
It makes me glad that I don't crochet, because if this was a book of knitting patterns, I'd probably have to buy it.
- Mood:
weird - Music:Lowen and Navarro
Sigh. Football can break your heart.
- Mood: sad
Jeez, those angels weren't creepy enough already? Davros doesn't look much like himself, but it's a relatively good likeness of Doctor 10.
http://i.toynewsi.com/g/index.php?mode=v
Hit "previous" a few times to see more Who toys. I'd love an entire set, although I can't seem to find any prices or ordering info on this site. Just as well, as the last thing I need in my house are more trinkets and toys taking up shelf space.
- Mood: touched
Another migraine yesterday, just before midnight. Consequently I slept very badly, and have spent today depressed and grumpy. Life sucks.
- Mood: distressed
I have made these resovolutions every year since I first heard this song on Donovan's Open Road album, and I've never failed to accomplish them all. I've had to stretch the definitions from time to time, and the experience that qualified as fulfilling a resovolution wasn't always pleasant, but hey, some years are better than others and it's all learning. If only Donovan could know what a difference he's made in my life -- I hope it would please him.
Do what you've never done before
See what you've never seen
Feel what you've never felt before
Go where you've never been
Sing what you've never sung before
Say what you've never said
Bear what you've never born before
Hear what you've never heard.
I was walking Griffin this morning, and witnessed this behavior. A man exited his house, and hadn't even stepped off his doorstep before getting on his cell. He then proceeded to get into his car and drive away, still talking. He couldn't have made the call while still inside, where it's warm and comfy? He couldn't have sat and warmed up his car while he spoke?
So then I wondered, are people these days afraid to be alone with their thoughts? There was a time, years ago, when I was very depressed and I truly didn't want to hear what was going on in my head, and needed to have at least two things going on at the same time (computer, tv, radio, etc.) to distract me. Being in the car was difficult, I admit it, because driving plus radio wasn't distracting enough. But I got better, and I got over it. I wonder if subconscious fear of introspection factors into this obsession with constantly talking on cell phones.
Or am I just thinking too hard? Probably.
I nearly got nailed in a parking lot today by some oblivious woman cutting through the spaces and yapping on her phone, not looking right or left as she drove. It started me wondering, again, just why people feel they have to talk on the damn phone all the damn time. It really wasn't that long ago that most of us couldn't use the phone unless we were near a land line, and we coped perfectly well. I used to be a secretary, and I got my fill of talking on the phone during those years. I don't even like answering the phone at home! Thank the heavens for caller I.D.
Yes, I have a cell phone. I got it after my car broke down out of state on a Saturday and I had to hang by a pay phone at a grocery store for hours, trying to get a tow truck. It's a security blanket, mostly. But I do use it, to call friends and family with short questions relating to what I'm doing at the time -- asking Michael to check if we need milk when I'm at the grocery store, telling my sister our ETA when we're on the road to New Jersey, etc. But if you call me while I'm driving, don't expect me to answer it. I wouldn't even be able to dig it out of my purse before it stopped ringing. Leave a message, and I'll call you back when I stop. When. I. Stop. Try it some time, people.
What is this fascination with constant communication? I think it starts in childhood, and I blame Fisher Price!
Toy phones are one of the first toys babies are given, and guess what? When the phone rings, it's always someone who wants to talk to Baby! Amazing! Maybe that's when the notion that our own conversations are the most important events in the world gets implanted. Maybe that's why people now cling to their cell phones like they are a long-lost appendage.
