Dining In

The other day we were talking about the menu for the upcoming week and I said, "Oh, and by the way, you're cooking every other night this week". And The Spouse said, "Sure".

Because, you see, it's not that he doesn't want to cook or that he won't cook or that there's some tacit expectation that I'm supposed to do it all. But sometimes it seemed easier to just plan the menu and do the cooking and let it go at that. And sure, maybe he could have said, "Hey, you're doing all the cooking. That's not fair. Share the load". But I've learned, after 18 years of marriage, that if I want something I have only to ask for it. Dude's not a mind reader.

Of course, when he cooks it means that the process will involve lots of singing, dancing and inappropriate quotes from "South Park" but it's a small price to pay to have every other night "off".

Random Things

Last night the power cord for my laptop died.   I hate when that happens.  The Spouse did the autopsy and then ordered me a new one.  I should have it on Monday.  (Except he paid for rush shipping which, with Dell, means I should have it by some time in 2010).  It's a really good thing The Child has a laptop that isn't password protected and that I get up before she does.

Then I had one of those nights when I woke up repeatedly and lay in bed worrying about every stoopid little thing in the world, none of which I could do a lick about from bed.  It never ceases to amaze me how the tiniest things become so dreadfully huge in the dark of the night.  By the light of day, none of them were a big deal at all.  I really hate that; I could have used the sleep.

The Spouse asked me out on a date for tomorrow night.  I'm a little nervous because it's an industry thing, which means he'll be talking with movie people about lights and cameras and I'll be standing around wondering if we're going to be home in time for the new episode of "iCarly".  But it's nice that he wants me to go with him so I will.  

I have to find something red to wear to work today.  We're having a little party to officially switch on the outside Christmas lights on The House and I know MAB will be decked out like a little elf.  I don't think I even own anything that's red, except for one pullover that's currently too tight.  (I just learned that there is an employee fitness center at the hospital; The Neighbor and I are going to start going next week.  I'm getting very tubby and I don't like that.  Sausages are a very delicious thing to eat but looking like one is not very attractive).

We Had Apple Pie, Not Cake

Forgive me if I've mentioned this before but The Spouse and I had a very brief courtship. We'd only been dating about 3 months when he asked me to marry him and I said yes. He'd been out of town part of the time we were courting so we hadn't even introduced each other to most of our friends or any of our family when he put the ring on my finger.

We had a nine month engagement. Partly to prove that the rapidity of our commitment had nothing to do with anything except wanting to get married.

We were pretty sure that one of the amusements of our wedding reception was people making book on how long we'd last.

Who had 18 years?

HA! See? It was meant to be, people.

It's All True

Yesterday the official recorded temperature was 102°, the highest for that date in Seattle history.

I admit, that's a little hot.

Traditionally, homes in the Northwest don't have AC. It just isn't historically necessary. A few years ago The Spouse bought a window unit for our family room. I berated him soundly. What was he thinking, spending hundreds of dollars on something that would be used maybe MAYBE one or two days out of the year? Amortizing out the cost, however, proves it to be a wise decision. Not to mention that right now you can't lay your hands on any cooling unit in any home store in the area. Seriously. MAB just bought a unit that had come off the truck 15 minutes before and by the time they checked out the supply was depleted again.

And we have fans for the other rooms, which makes sleep possible, even when there is no air coming through the open windows.

The Dog has a big bowl of water. I feel bad leaving him shut up in the house each day until The Child returns from summer school. But he's coping in his own doggie way.

Also, I have increased my sandal wardrobe and yesterday bought some more flowy "Jai Ho" skirts to wear to work.

In the evenings we dine al fresco and then sit in the back garden until it is dark. Last night we ran the sprinkler and would occasionally douse ourselves. Who doesn't love a douse in a sprinkler?


Plus, heat greatly diminishes my appetite so I'm pretty sure that by the time this is all over I will have lost a few unnecessary pounds. That's not a bad thing.

The temps are going to start coming down. It's only supposed to get to 101° today. See how we adapt?

And adaptation is the bottom line. I was telling someone the other day that Seattleites need to learn how to drive in snow and function when it's hot. People in the Northwest are, I believe, complete and total weather wimps. We whine if it's too cold, we whine if it's too hot. And trust me, traditionally "too hot" is anything over 75°. And we make far, far too big a deal of the weather, even on an official basis. (Our weathermen and women are among the most hysterical (as in crazy raving over-reaction) around. "Snow in the forecast!!!!!! How will it affect your commute????????? Temperatures in the 100s!!!!!!!!!!! Arrrrggghhhh!!! We're all gonna die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

The way I see it our weather patterns very well may be changing and the best plan in my view is to accept the new normal and shut the H up. I'm quite sure that your personal body temperature increases several degrees with every complaint about the heat you make. And complaining distracts you from the blessings. Last night I was having (iced) cocktails with The Neighbor and a gorgeous cool breeze started to blow, rustling the leaves of her fruit trees in the most musical way and cooling our skin. I stopped and just paid attention to that breeze. It felt so very, very good. Without the heat I would have completely taken that breeze for granted and that would have been sad.

Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to go ice my feet.

What's New in Rainey's World

Things That Are Wrong

1) Our fridge died. There was fish in it at the time of its passing. I had to throw out a lot of otherwise delicious food. Eeeewww.

2) The Cat is missing. She took off when The Dog's sister came for a weekend visit. (One dog is her limit...2 make her very irritable). Usually she comes sauntering back when the sister leaves but she hasn't. I know she was ok as of Sunday because an irritated (and very rude) person up the street had her in his house and had called Animal Control. I called him but he was, as I said, extremely rude so I didn't want to go to his house. I asked him to just put her outside because she knows where she lives. He hung up on me before further conversation on that or any other point could be had. (Bastid). But she still hasn't come home. I suppose I should call the rude person back but I don't want to because he scares me. I don't like confrontation. But I do want my cat.

Things That Are Right

1) When a 10 year old fridge dies there really is only one solution.

Agreed? Isn't it superfantastic? It will be delivered on Thursday. Plus, I always feel grand about stimulating the economy.

2) I got up this morning to find The Spouse being all Hilda Homemaker in the kitchen. "Are you calling me a girl?" he said. "Oh. I mean Harry Homemaker". "That's better,"he said, as he continued to wipe counters and hand wash annoying bits. (Definition of "annoying bits": odd shaped things that don't fit in the dishwasher but are covered with grease or other disgusting things that you don't really want to touch but you don't want to leave them lying around so you put them in a sink of soapy water but leave them overnight, resulting in disgusting water and still annoying bits).

3) The Child has finals this week and then is done with school for the year. Well, except for the whole having-to-go-to-summer-school-because-she-flunked-English-because-she-didn't-always-turn-in-assignments thing. Despite that reality (which, let's face it, is going to be a pretty big lesson about consequences in and of itself, especially as her mandatory attendance means no mission trip or drama camp this year) she really has done a pretty terrific job of adjusting to life in a big school for big stakes. I'm proud of her. I told her so last night. And, for a change, instead of pulling a "Muuu-therrrr" she smiled and said, "Thanks, Mom".

Erin Go Get My Bra

Yesterday was a day. One of those days when even before it starts to go off the rails you look at your boss and she looks at you and she says, "Something is weird today". And it was. Even though stressful and weird for us still doesn't rival what it has looked like in other incarnations of my life. But still. By the time I got home I was in the mood for a cocktail and maybe some zombie slayin'.

The Spouse, who has started dinner, asked me how my day had been. "Oh, it's been such a day," I said, with inflection in all the right places so he knew that it had not been the greatest of days. "Well, let me pour you a glass of wine and you can tell me all about it".

Then we sat in the living room and he let me vent. And not in the way he usually does where he's nodding like he's interested until I realize he's urging me to fast forward so he can get on to something else (and I do tend to get into a thicket when telling a tale). But this time he was just letting me talk, thicket and all, and was responding appropriately at the appropriate places (proving he really was listening) and then, THEN, when I was all unvented and there was still wine in the glass he asked my opinion of a new television show we started watching ("Kings") and we had this very grown-up conversation about character arcs and story story structure and the Old Testament and the character of King David (both the Bible one and the one in the show).

Then we finished making dinner together, sat down with The Child to a pleasant meal, watch our Monday shows and then, after finishing the Vogue article about Michelle Obama, I slept the sleep of the unvented. (At least, I did until I woke up in the middle of the night and started thinking about all the things I have to do at work and home before I leave for Omaha and then, not so much on the sleeping but still).

Now I'm going to put some corned beef and beer in the crockpot and wait on the day. And think about what to pack for my trip.

May the luck o' the Irish be with you today.

Scrambled Goose Eggs

First of all, let's hear it for the boy! Specifically, The Spouse, who successfully reformatted and tidied up my computer in defiance of the malicious malware. Huzzah, huzzah.

Second, the great Mug Mystery of '08 has been solved. It's amazing what a sleuth can turn up with an invoice and an 800 number. (The mug came from my friend Alameda Fats. Wasn't that nice?)

Moving on, did you realize that today is New Year's Eve? Because I just realized that. Yes, I knew it was coming etc etc etc but all a sudden it is the middle of the week and the end of the year and nearly the beginning of the new year and I all, "What?"

Suffice to say, I haven't taken much time to reflect upon resolutions for the New Year. Not that I necessarily make extensive lists of resolutions; mostly because New Year's is only one of several "new starts" in my year. I always consider my birthday a new year. There's a "new year" ish feeling to the start of any fresh month. The first day of school, even though I'm not the one going, typically calls me to reflect and remember and envision. And it even includes a traditional imbibing.

Point is, I feel like this post should be somewhat profound but all I can think about is the following 3 things:

1) In my dream last night The Spouse gave me a mountain ash tree that was just putting out new leaves. Given the nature of mountain ash trees in springtime mode, this gave the tree the overall appearance of soft, lacy fuzziness and I kept being taken by its beauty while he struggled to plant it just so in front of the new townhouse we'd bought (in the dream). And it wasn't a bad place to live except it was full of someone else's furniture, the bathroom didn't work and the phone was bad because I couldn't hear the buyer at Christie's who was going to make telephone bids on an 18th century console that I really wanted for the house and then we got disconnected.

2) MAB is out of town as of last night and could be gone through the 18th. I'm not nervous about having the whole responsibility of managing the house on my shoulders. I am very sad to think that I might not have occasion for hysterical laughter until the middle of the month. We share an office. Practically speaking it's a demmed good thing that we get along as well as we do. But it is a gift, too. We're starting to finish each other's sentences. I'm really going to miss her. I'm also going to be really busy. I hope nothing major happens while she's gone but if it does it'll look good on my resume. Assuming, you know, that I correctly solve whatever it is.

3) I must go on line and make sure that caviar store hasn't fallen victim to the economy because I gotta get over there today.

Law and Disorder

Last night I was enjoying cocktails with The Neighbor, as we're wont to do, when I heard The Child hollering across the fence.

"MOM! MOM! Dad got robbed!"

Abandoning my drink, I flew home to find The Spouse, shaken and awaiting the cops.

Mercy, says you. What was he doing? Had he been down in Pioneer Square carousing and got himself rolled in a dark alley? Was he walking through the center of an unlit park where drug traffic is known to flourish? Was he loitering outside an abandoned building in the industrial district?

No. He was walking home from work and half a block from our house.

Two young men (one taller than The Spouse, the other shorter...both assholes) asked if he knew the time. (How stupid do you have to be to invite a mark to know the exact time of the commission of your crime, btw?) He obliged and kept walking, because that's the sort of thing you do in your own relatively safe neighborhood at 5:37pm on a weeknight. Next thing he knew they came up behind him and sorta surrounded him. They said they had a gun. They took his wallet, his cell and briefcase, then casually strolled off up the street as if nothing had happened.

Say it with me: "Bastards!"

The early part of our evening was spent giving the police a report (him) and cancelling bank cards and cell service (me). There was also some shaking and shuddering (mutual).

The middle part of the evening was spent being really frakking upset (him) and listening (me).

He did say that he was interested in some vengeance. I suggested that, while a reasonable response, perhaps he would be better served allowing the authorities to handle it. "What if I became a superhero first?"

"That would be ok then".

"I could wear a cape".

"No, no capes".

But mostly he was really, really pissed. This morning he is still really, really pissed. Of course he is. There are layers to it, you see. First is just the simple fact of the violation of YOUR neighborhood, YOUR freedom to just frakking walk home from work without being assaulted, coupled with the whole fearing-for-your-life thing that happens when someone takes your stuff after threatening you with a gun. Then there's the whole annoying business of being the one who has to do all the work of making calls and wasting time at the DMV to get a new license and spending time at work getting a new badge and all that. Because really, how is that possibly fair? Take my money, sure, but come on. You know I'm just going to cancel all my cards the second I'm able. You'll get nothing out of it and it'll be a headache for me so work with me here.

And then this morning there was another layer of annoyance as he realized that they got his lunch bag, his coffee mug and - and this really got him going again - his gloves and scarf.

Of course, there is good news in all this. First and foremost is that my husband wasn't injured or killed. Stuff is stuff. He'd be a little less easy to replace. Second, he is notoriously difficult to shop for; Christmas shopping will be a little easier this year. Third, he had left his iPod at work yesterday. If he wants, he can add today's Jukebox to his playlist. It suits his mood.



Bon Jovi "Wanted Dead or Alive"

Wherein I Babble

The place where I work is brand new. We're having our ribbon cutting this week. But, as with any new place, there are all sorts of last minute details to be seen to; like getting in computers. I've been without an Internet connection for 2 weeks. Can you imagine? Golly, I feel so disconnected from what's going on in Blogtopia...no time to read other blogs, no time to comment on my own. It's really quite unpleasant. Hopefully that circumstance will change by the end of today and then I can be like all the rest of you, with your surreptitious blogging from work. (Actually, I may even be encouraged to do a little blogging from work...MAB isn't thrilled about waiting for her Project Runway recaps).

What else? I've lost 3 pounds since I started the job. I spend a lot of time running around, lifting stuff and going up and down stairs. This is superfantastic.

I'm bird happy with my gig, btw. Bird happy. I knew it was, on paper, perfect for me but it really and truly is. MAB is the best boss because she respects my work and trusts me to do it without micromanagement. Actually, I'm sorta become Radar to her Captain Blake. Which I love. My best jobs have always been the ones where I know my boss well enough to anticipate what he or she is going to need. It makes me happy to make other people happy.

The home front is simmering nicely. Now, Cuz and Mouse, you might want to leave this page up and encourage your spouses to move in the general direction of your computer. Because The Spouse is being awesome. It's not just that he made that suggestion a couple weeks ago about helping out more. He's really doing it. The other night we were talking about the menu for this week and he said to plan for him to cook Monday through Wednesday since I'd be especially busy getting ready for the ribbon cutting. To be perfectly honest with you, he's adjusting to this better than I am. I still haven't quite figured out how to come home at night, switch gears and do homekeepingish things. I'm sure I willl, but the fact that he stepped into the breach right away is just blowing me away.

And The Child, oy. She is LOVING school. She has a whole lunch table full of friends, which you know just warms my mommy's heart. And from what I can tell, she's stepping up to her academic responsibilities and getting her homework done when she gets home. I suspected the whole not-having-me-standing-over-her-thing would be positive in that regard. OH! And on Friday she went to her first theater audition; she's trying out for "The Boyfriend"...call backs are this week. She's very cheery about the whole process and doesn't seem particularly concerned if she doesn't make it this first time. I'm not sure I've ever seen a child so determined to grow up and be a specific thing. She has every intention of being an actress and welcomes every opportunity to learn more about the craft.

Today begins Spirit Week at school and the theme is (tee hee) the 80s. Dig Billy Idol and Madonna's love child:

Ring Redux

If you have ever been to downtown Seattle, you are no doubt familiar with the Rainier Tower:

It's base is very narrow and then tapers up to the office tower. Got it?

That's kinda what my ring finger looks like now.

I went to the jeweler yesterday and had my wedding ring cut off. The lovely man who helped me was very funny. "The bad news is we don't have any anesthesia," he said. "And I should probably tell you that I flunked out of medical school".

"It's ok," said I. "Just give me a shot of brown liquor and a bullet to bite".

He slid a metal cutter thingy under my ring and made a nice clean cut. With two needle nose pliers he then pried the ring apart enough that he could slide it off my finger without cutting me on the newly sharp edges.

He'll be getting in a shipment of rubies within the next week or so and I'll go back to choose one, then they'll fix my ring. Except I can't have it sized until my finger returns to it's normal shape. Which, he said, could take up to a month. What made me think that a ring which went on to my hand when I was a size 4 would never need to be sized? Very, very silly of me.

The good news? I have a few weeks to find the ruby. Not that I honestly believe I will, but since so many of you seem determined that the Universe will bring it back to me, I'm keeping my eyes open. (Y'all really are the sweetest things).

I have no idea what it's going to cost to restore the ring: a new stone, new tips, a shank for the resizing...could end up being as much as the ring is worth already. Although when I mentioned to The Spouse that I supposed we could just not fix the ring he quickly said, "That is not an option".

He also was amusing because he seemed a little nervous about the fact that my ring finger was now naked. "You have to wear something on that hand".

I have a claddagh, an Irish wedding band. But you see, if I put another ring on that finger it would get in the way of it restoring itself. It has to be jewelry free for a while. Then, later, and seemingly apropos of nothing The Spouse mentioned a recent statistic he'd read that 1 in 3 women in America are having or about to have an affair. As you know, I very rarely say anything negative about my Spouse in these pages. But for the record, sometimes he can be a very, very ridiculous person.

"I am one of the two," I said.

"I'm just saying..."

"Look at me!" He looked. "I have no interest in having an affair. Ever".

I don't believe he truly thinks I'd ever cheat on him. Never mind that I haven't the interest, energy or inclination to have an affair. Why would I ever think I could find anyone better than The Spouse? He's adorable. He brings me coffee in the morning. He takes care of his family. He makes me laugh every day. Every. Day. Sometimes he pisses me off but then, sometimes I piss him off. Hardly reason to go out and see if I can do better. I couldn't. And yes, in reality, that includes Steve Martin.

My point, I think, is that the symbol of the wedding ring, however powerful, is just that, a symbol. It speaks to something deeper and more mystical than the physical thing itself could ever be. I look at my Rainier Tower finger right now, at the impression that ring literally made on my finger and that seems as much a symbol to me as the ring. Being married to The Spouse, being his wife, is embedded in me. Right now the divot in my finger is the sign of that. Nope. Ring or no ring, I'm as wedded to that man o' mine as it is possible to be. End of story.

I did draw a ring on my finger last night and then, briefly, considered getting a little tat. Except that would probably interfere with the whole "restoring the finger" scenario. Although it's kind of a cool idea because then I could satisfy my on-again-off-again fascination with tatoos plus once my wedding ring was back on, I'd pretty much be the only person who knew it was there. And I wouldn't have to worry about it getting sagging and gross when I was older.

Nah.

I am going to take The Child to get a second piercing in one of her ears today. I'm cool like that.

Mother's Day

The Spouse and Child went to Comicon yesterday to be geeks. They brought me home an early Mother's Day present:

That right there would be my autographed picture of Jamie Bamber, otherwise known as Lee "Apollo" Adama from "Battlestar Galactica". I realize that the only other people who give a rat's arse about that are Emma, The Neighbor and JP, but still, it was really super cool and made me inordinantly happy.

I sent a card to my mommy. It said, "Thank you for not killing me when I was a teenager". I think that pretty much sums it up, don't you?

To all of you to whom the greeting applies, Happy Mother's Day. Please know that I know how hard you work to care for your families & raise your kids into reasonable human beans. Motherhood has plenty of rewards but sometimes it can feel a little thankless, too. I honor you for your dedication. I think you rock.

And Dame Judi, I really truly mean it; thanks for not giving up on me or sending me off to boarding school or actually smacking me into next week. You would have been justified, but I appreciate your restraint. Especially now.

Now I'm going to sit on my arse and play Sims2 until the guests arrive for Pentecost supper. Because it's Mother's Day.

Belated Weekend Update

Friday afternoon, actual email exchange between The Spouse and me-self:

From: Spouse
To: Moi
Subject: Check it Out

From: Moi
To: Spouse
Subject: Re: Check it Out

Did he autograph our cheese?

From: Spouse
To: Moi
Subject: Re: Check it out

No, but he autographed the crab cake cookbook I got you.

From: Moi
To: Spouse
Subject: Re: Check it out

Awwww...you're just the bestest husband ever.

From: Spouse
To: Moi
Subject: Re: Check it out

I actually thought to ask him but what would the point of that have been other then ironic?

From: Moi
To: Spouse
Subject: Re: Check it out

Plus, the whole "never being able to eat the cheese because Tom Douglas signed it" thing.

---

So guess what I'm making for dinner tonight?

---

Friday evening was, of course, The Golden Dragon Ball. The Neighbor did The Child's hair because I'm totally inept at those sorts of things.

The Child wore the dress her aunt 'n uncle gave her for Christmas and her Grandma Eileen's mink stole. (Shut up...the poor thing has been dead for over 50 years).

This is the only boy she kissed.

I stayed home and ate pizza and watched "Atonement" just like I said I would. Only it wasn't BBQ chicken pizza because I didn't make it to Trader Joe's until Saturday. Still craving that, though.

Saturday

The Child's volleyball team was finally defeated in a game. Rumors are swirling, based on a conversation one of our parents had with their assistant coach, relative to the legitimacy of the other team's strategy. See, half their players didn't show up for the game, which meant they weren't required to sub in. Consequently, their strongest players played the whole time. Hmmmm....

It was a drubbing; the other team is undeniably good-the only other one in the division with an undefeated record. And there's no debate about the fact that our girls have a weak mental game; they start losing and it messes with their heads big time. But still...

In the evening The Spouse and I went downtown for a CD release party for a friend of his. It was pleasant. I didn't know very many people and you know how I am in a crowd of strangers. But I drank a very tasty Cosmo, the music was hot and it was nice to spend time with my husband doing something other than being home. Even though we like being home. We also commented on how cool it was that we could just leave The Child home alone. I reckon that in 14 years we have spent a total of $20 on babysitting. We always had friends or neighbors who watched her for free. And then she was old enough to be alone. Score.

Sunday

Final match of the regular season. Each game was "who needs a cocktail" close but our girls emerged victorious, for a final record of 6-1 on the season. Playoffs are next week. Hopefully some dark horse will eliminate St. Sneakybutt.

Cinematic Wonders

Take 30 seconds, if you will, and check out the trailer for
our movie.

Didn't The Spouse do a nice job?

Still Not a Christmas Song. Also, Not Really a Solstice Song.

Update: my headache is gone and furthermore, The Child informed me yesterday afternoon that we didn't have to go to the Advent Concert because the 8th grade wasn't singing. Whoo to the hoo!

---

I wanted to play something that had particular meaning on this, the anniversary of the day The Spouse asked me to marry him. Sure, for your pagans and Celts this is the winter solstice and you're all watching the live streaming feed from Newgrange to see the ancient tomb fill with light as it does only on this day every year (actually, guess you already watched it if you were going to). But for me, while the poetry of bare branches and the promise that is inherent in this, the shortest day, have some sway, it's mostly about the fact that this is the anniversay of The Spouse deciding I was a catch. And sure, it could have been the beer talking, but he followed through and married me 9 months later so it was obviously sincere.

I love my Spouse. I really do. We've been through a bit of a patch lately, with our worries and such. We both have a tendency to get into our own heads when that happens and not talk to each other so much. Or if we talk it's because I want to but he doesn't really and, well, that never goes particularly well. Especially because my talking often takes the form of "processing", as it does with women, wherein I'm saying a lot of different things to try and come to a place of clarity and he, being a guy, doesn't really do that and finds it annoying.

But somewhere along the way we've come out of it and we're again laughing at each other's jokes and speaking kindly and not flying off the handle at the least little provocation, which is so much more pleasant.

Marriage, "they" say, is hard work. "They" weren't kidding. It can be very difficult, when you live side by side, day in and day out, to keep things fresh, to have conversations about things other than kids and money and stuff that needs to be done to the house and what should be on the menu this week. It's easy to start acting more like room-mates than lovers. But if you stop long enough to think about why you asked that "will you" question in the first place, or why you said "OK", you can usually find your way back to the lovers side of the equation. Which is a very good thing.

I was going to play "Heroes" but I couldn't. So instead I'm going to play the exact opposite, an angry little ditty, more appropriate to my experience before The Spouse.

Rumor has it that the record company didn't spend a lot of money on this video because they didn't think the song would go anywhere. Boy, were they wrong about that.

Alanis Morisette "You Oughta Know"

A Little Update For You

First of all, the snow all melted away. Then it started to snow again. So much so that the speech tourney was cut short and someone had to go get The Child. Which The Spouse did and I was very grateful for driving in the snow is not something I do.

By the time they returned home, the roads were covered and we probably had about 3 inches of accumulation.

At which point my camera died. (Like, I think really dead, never to take another picture again and not because of the battery because I charged it last night).

But that's ok, for now, because I've been busy making snowflakes at that cool site that I'm not going to link to because it's right over there in my sidebar and you can just go play yourself. And then the coolest thing happened because I got a comment, on my last post (if you want to go see) from Bad Alice that she'd found one of my snowflakes. How randomly awesome is that? Because there are a lot of snowflakes on that site. About 412 of 'em are mine.

Then Hat and I sat on speaker phones and made snowflakes together for a while. That was fun.

Here's a picture of one of my favorite of my snowflakes. It's a snow queen. Can you tell?

The Child is gone for the night so I'm thinking this would be a good time to go snuggle up with The Spouse in front of the fire and revel in our winter wonderland. Or, possibly, reheat some fajitas.

An Embarrassment of Riches

I'm just going to have to do this in bits. So let's start with the presents, shall we?

They had been trickling in throughout the week as it was, even earlier actually. The Hat had given me the first printing of my business cards as an early birthday present.

Then came a Venetian glass pen and an antique ink well from ChouChou and John, because she knew that I coveted The Child's. Mine is red and black. It's beautiful.

This was followed by a concertina from Rosie. You see, she plays the accordion and was going to come to my fete and play "La vie en rose" for me. But then she couldn't come. So she did, I suppose, the next best thing and sent me a Hohner concertina, complete with a book for "absolute beginners", which is a dem fine thing because I know absolutely nothing about squeeze boxes. But it is a gorgeous instrument with a lovely tone and when I opened it The Child squealed with delight, "Oh, mama! Now you can be a street musician!"

I do think that mastering, or at least making a running attempt at a new skill in my new decade is a fine goal.

JP blew me away with a vinyl copy of Tracy Ullman's "You Broke My Heart in 17 Places" and a DVD of "Rattle and Hum". Which considering his meh-ness over U2 in the '80's was quite something. He also gave me a CD of "High School Musical II" but that was just to mess with The Child. Who wasn't fooled.

When The Neighbor and I were planning my party we originally thought of doing something very progressive, like having people write a toast or give money to charity or something non-material like that. Then it didn't happen. Which meant people brought presents. And you know what? I don't need a thing but presents are superfantastic. I'd forgotten. Although, I felt a little silly sitting there, surrounded by my friends, opening gift after gift. Really, I did. And such nice gifts too: spa treatments and lotions and soaps and such (Kina, Payson, Jim & Kelly). Jewelry (tiara earrings from The Neighbor and a charm bracelet from Stina and Dave) and pretty boxes to keep jewelry in (Julie and Leroy). Pretty things for the sake of pretty (Bertie & Roger and Lorene & James).

Cheryl and Pat did a clever thing. They gave me a bottle of Carlo Rossi jug wine with a wrapper that said "Lorraine in her 20s" and a fine bottle of white Rhone in a wrapper that said "Lorraine in her 50s", plus a gorgeous glass decanter. And the Cardinal and Mikey gave me land in Scotland. Seriously. I get to register a number and I will be the Lady of Kincavel...owning 1 square foot of Scottish soil which I cannot build on but which may be passed down to subsequent generations. I really hope there is a thistle growing on it.

There were gift cards (Kenny & Tiff) and paintings (Ree & Jerry) and little treats. The Child spent her own money to buy me very pretty kitchen towels. We were all done and I was thanking everyone as sweetly as I could for their kind and thoughtful gifts when The Spouse said, "There's one more" and handed me a small brown box.

In the small brown box was a pretty little china box, painted with roses. I cooed over it

"Oh, honey"...

He said, "Open it".

So I did....

And then I cried a little bit...

because he'd given me a beautiful sapphire pendant set with diamonds. And this picture doesn't do it a lick of justice but it is lovely as can be. That Spouse of mine, I'm telling you...when he decides to go for the grand gesture you are best served standing out of his way.

I also want to thank all of you for your kind e-wishes....it was like you were there partying with us.

I'm blessed. Shallow, but blessed.

Who Had 16 in the Pool?

Today is such an important day.

16 years ago The Spouse and I were married, by full Catholic rites in a beautiful cathedral on a sun drenched autumnal afternoon. And then we ate cold cuts and apple pie and danced to rock and roll music until the wee hours of the next morning.

I don't know if I've told you the story but The Spouse and I hadn't been dating all that long when we became engaged. It had been so brief a courtship, in fact, that most of my friends hadn't even met him yet. And visa versa. Consequently, we have always suspected that there was a bit of betting going on at our reception. Surely such a whirlwind thing couldn't last.

I'm thinking that we beat all the odds within the first 6 months of our marriage but maybe someone out there had faith that we had what it took.

And here we are and he still makes me laugh and I still love him and he's even cuter now than he was when I married him and I mean, seriously, what are the odds of that happening?
It's been a blissful 16 years, except for the bits that have sucked but you know what? That's what marriage is: working through the suckage so you can get back to the bliss. Sometimes we feel more like room-mates then lovers and then in one instant I'm looking at him and it all changes again. He's my friend, my lover, my supporter, my hero, the father of my child and the best decision I ever made.

Happy anniversary, Pookie.

---

Once upon a time, I think it was in January, JP and I were talking about the friendship we have developed since meeting in Blogtopia, about how it was a real friendship even though we'd never met, about how we tell each other stuff that we don't necessarily tell other people, like that. And he said something like, "You are one of my best friends and that's true even if we never meet, even though I hope we will".

Well, he's one of my best friends, too, and now we really are going to meet. Having been through this virtual-buddy-to-real-person thing a few times now, I know what to expect. There will be one requisite moment of panic, probably somewhere along the time when I'm scrubbing the bathtub and hoping that he finds it clean enough, when I'll wonder if he'll be disappointed when he meets me. (Oddly, it won't ever occur to me that he might disappoint me. Then the panic will subside into a "I'm sure it'll be fine" sort of feeling and then, a few hours later, I'll be at the airport, and just like when I was going to meet Buck for the first time I'll start getting all butterfly-y and giggly and then I'll see him and give him a giant hug and from then on it will be just like all our emails and phone conversations over the past nearly 2 years only better because he'll actually be here.

JP is going to be in my house. MY house, people. The word "superfantastic" springs to mind.

---

One amusing story and then I gotta run. Last night at dinner we were discussing various game plans for the weekend and The Spouse said something about taking JP with him downtown to "run an errand" so he could show him the city a little bit and I was all, "Well, you can't have him for that long because we have videos to play and hanging out to do and stuff and I'll be really mad if you take him off for hours and hours so I can't be with him" and The Child got all pouty and even starting crying about how we were going to get more time with Uncle JP than she was and how it wasn't fair and blah blah blah.

"You'll see him right after school and you're going to dinner with us tonight. He's going to be in our house, for crying out loud. You'll get plenty of time with him".

"Well, it's still not fair. He's MY uncle, after all".

Right. So an hour or so later The Boyfriend calls to invite her to a concert. Tonight. I hear her say she can't because her uncle is going to be in town. Then she looks at me, sorta plaintively and I said, "If you'd rather go to the concert than out to dinner with us you may".

She's going to the concert.

She still loves Uncle JP. Just not as much as she loves the idea of going to a concert with The Boyfriend. Just saying.

Kids.

What I Really Want to Do is Direct

Not.

I learned something very important this weekend: movie making is not glamorous.

It is hours of waiting around for 2 minutes of action. Which you then have to repeat over and over. It is hitting your mark, opening a quarter turn to the camera, being cued and then having to wait because yet another jet is flying overhead. It is being in makeup at 9am with your first on-camera lines coming at 2:30pm. It is getting yourself all worked up so you can cry on camera and just when you get actual tears realizing that the crew is still fussing with the camera angle. It's remembering to have the sound guy take off your wireless so you can have some privacy in the bathroom. It is putting in an 8 hour day for what will amount to 5 minutes of final film and being so tired that your bones ache, even when you are sleeping.

Yup. Glam.Our.

On the plus side, the people working on this project are all really nice, really funny folks. And they are all total professionals, even though none of them is getting paid. It is very cool to see Iwanski and The Spouse's words coming to life. Things that seemed rather simple on the page became much more interesting in reality. It's fun to learn a new language:

"Kill the baby!" (Nothing to do with child abuse and everything to do with lighting).

"This is the martini shot!" (Last shot of the day - we get this right and we can all have beer).

And there's the litany for each shot:

"Slate!"
"Sound?"
"Sound ready".
"Camera?"
"Ready...camera rolling".
"Action!"

Another thing I learned about movie making is that it is a big plus to work with a good director. And I can honestly say, even though I am sleeping with him, that our director is a dream. The Spouse has a decided vision of what this film is supposed to look like and he communicates that clearly to both cast and crew. Additionally, he's a consummate professional. I have never, of course, really seen him in action movie-wise and when I did he was working as an electrician. In all his years of movie-making, he's learned a lot about direction and it shows. He's getting the performances he wants, he trusts his crew and he's on the mark with his shooting schedule. I was very apprehensive about working with him in this capacity but I needn't have been. He is A.Maz.Ing.

Not to mention, he was brilliant with The Child. I was bored out of my skull most of the time but at least I know how to cope with boredom. The Child, especially the first day, was twitchy and goofy and I, for one (though I don't think I was alone in this) frequently recalled the old Hollywood adage, "Never work with animals or children". But The Spouse managed to pull the performance he wanted from her and was able to control her in a very professional manner. It wasn't daddy yelling at the kid, it was the Director, working calmly with giddy teen talent. He did his job and she did hers. And yesterday she was far more composed and far less annoying.

It's been quite an experience so far. I'm looking forward to next weekend's shoot. I also know that I am so not giving up my day job.

Far Flung

I love my site meter. In the early days of blogging I was completely obsessed with it, checking it at least every hour and my mood rising or falling like the tides depending on how many hits I got.

I'm over that now and usually only check it once a week or less. But my favorite part is the world map. I click to see the last 100 readers and it is just too cool. This morning, for example, there were hits as far flung as Wellington, New Zealand and Barrow, Alaska. The UAE, Chile, Germany, Nova Scotia (where I hope to someday fly my Lear jet to see the total eclipse of the sun). Then there were all the little clusters on the US map. I can make assumptions about some of the little dots, Dame Judi was just on as was Poodle. But then there are surprises, places where I don't know that I know anyone and I wonder who they are, if they are regular readers or just passing through.

And I even wonder what the weather is like where they (you) are. It's a lovely day here. Is the sun shining as generously on the brownstones of the Bronx or the rooftops of Lambeth, England? I wonder if they (you) all had a good night's rest (I didn't) and if you started your day with a lovely hot cup of something (I did). What will you be up to today? Any interesting plans for the evening? Are you well?

Yep, I like my site map. It makes me think globally. I like that.

And I didn't sleep well because I have this stupid cold that makes for snorking and other nonsense and I kept walking myself up. I'll tell you one thing, though, that Spouse of mine totally took the "sickness and health" bit of our vows seriously. He's been doing all sorts of homely things this morning so I don't have to. Which is just superfantastic of him.

And if I end up taking to my bed, he will bring me tea and soup and make sure I'm comfy. I don't think it will come to that. I just need to not overdo, drink my fluids and maybe take a nap later.

I'll amuse myself by playing videos over at The Club for a while. (We've been very busy, figuring out how to download and upload videos ourselves. Thus we are creating a little cache of videos (did I say little? JP says it's looking like it will be 3000 before we are done) so that we can always play what we want when we want. It's a lot of work (for a hobby) but it's liberating, too. And I just love production meetings).

Have a lovely day, wherever you are.

A Heartwarming Tale

There was an accountant named Aaron Anderson. He lived in Alabama with his wife, Amy and the quadruplets: Adam, Adelaide, Allan and Aileen. They were a very happy and adventurous family.

One day, I believe it was on a Thursday, although it could have been a Wednesday, Aaron went to the animal bazaar. He had a hankering for an exotic pet. He found an aardvark that was particularly handsome. He had to pay a great deal of money for the aardvark, but as he had developed an intense passion for the beast he was unable to do anything else and so it was that the aardvark came to the little gray house at the corner of Main St. and Grand Avenue.

Aaron brought home the aardvark, who was of no particular religious persuasion, although he had been raised Roman Catholic. The aardvark was introduced to the family with elaborate fanfare, Aaron having a flair for the dramatic. They were all in raptures over the animal and decided to name it Abraham. They fed Abraham apples, artichokes, asparagus, antipasto and Asian pears. Abraham was ecstatic.

The Andersons made a soft bed for Abraham, with apricot colored sheets and an angora blanket.

They taught him opera and algebra. He was a very smart aardvark and soon was regaling the entire Anderson clan with tales of his travels down the Amazon and entertaining them with his antics. He was adept at handiwork, particularly tatting and beaded applique. He assisted the Anderson children with their grammar and aided Amy with washing the laundry.

Abraham eagerly anticipated the nightly family dance, when all the Andersons, Aaron, Amy, Adam, Adelaide, Allan and Aileen gathered to tango and salsa. After dancing, they would pull out the compact disks and play all their favorite music: Aerosmith, the Bangles, a-ha, and Madonna. Abraham regularly moved them all to tears with his rendition of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina. He had something of a pash for Broadway musicals, particularly "The Light in the Piazza", "Singing in the Rain", "My Fair Lady" and most certainly, "Evita".

Abraham was grateful for his newly acquired way of life and thanked the Andersons often for their amiable cordiality. Though Abraham could be a knave and something of a rascal, he was, in large part, an enchanting asset to the Anderson's way of life.

For his part, Abraham was happy to be catered to and caressed. He had no complaints. In fact, he was often heard to say, "This beats scrambling for ants in Tanzania." And so it was.

And they all lived happily ever after.