Tuesday, August 30

Altercations, teeth

So I was typing the sheriff's report ...

Pause. I know most terrible stories start out this way, but deal with it. Continue.

And I see the offense "Injury from altercation". I thought, Oh, that sounds normal. An altercation sounds a little like surgery. But then I wasn't sure. So I called upon my trusty friend dictionary.com and typed "altercation" into the search box. Moments later, it came up with this:

al·ter·ca·tion n. A vehement quarrel. [syn: affray, fracas]

Nonplussed, I couldn't imagine why someone was injured. Well, I supPOSE someone could get a little violently inclined. But really -- calling the sheriff?

Also, I read an article from the New York Times -- Rape charge follows marriage to a 14-year-old -- and I don't understand it. But I will not criticize love, even in the peculiar guise it takes this time around. [I mean, really. To put this in perspective, it would be like me marrying my youngest brother, a ninth grader. Except without the incest.]

But enough of that. I'm going to talk to Jacquieness for a little while and discuss wisdom teeth, because that's what you talk about when you haven't seen someone for three months.

Monday, August 29

Blah blah

Same old kind of day. I made a few interesting discoveries while typing the police report, though. Like the fact that some people actually call the police when there's a bat in their house. (This happened three times in the last couple of weeks.) And the fact that someone I know got arrested –– not that I'm terribly surprised, but it was the person that I dissected the fetal pig with back in when I was a sophomore in high school.

I've been screwing around online, ordering more DVDs that I don't particularly need. (Circle and Dress to Kill are almost in the "need" category, right?)

I'm hungry, and it's well past time to find food, so I'll go home for a while and hang out with the dog.

I'll be back later, no doubt.

Friends, ye olde navy

It's good to know that some friends "wouldn't trade you for a fitness center".


Dear Old Navy,

Thank you for providing affordable clothes that fit my, erm, generously proportioned figure. (Here.) However, as I was at your establishment twice Saturday and spent over $100 on (very fashionable) clothing, I would appreciate it if you would stop showing commercials that subliminally convince me to go buy more clothes. Or something. Make some ugly clothes that I would have no desire to wear. Do SOMETHING before this girl goes out of control.

Much love,


I'm going to keep listening to Hurricane Katrina stuff on CNN while reading the book that I stole from Dustro. (That means I'll fall asleep, obviously.)

Friday, August 26

Knitting, quiche

I'm making one of these in cheap red acrylic. Dustro thinks it looks like an Egyptian headdress ("you know, the mummy thing"). I've made two of these -- one very very small one, and one with leftover yarn from a baby hat. Yes, I'm knitting more baby stuff. There are a couple of reasons, and neither of them have to do with estrogen. First, I have friends and relatives that are having babies, or have had them recently. Second, I love instant gratification. And really, what could be more instant than knitting things for very small people? Well, except for a little java sleeve, but who knows if I made it the right size? I'll just have to send it to someone who drinks a lot of hot things and have her test drive it.

Pictures soon-ish. I promise. (Including some of the hat gone lampshade, under the slight influence of some Gin Buckets.)


So last night, Dustro and I took another step towards sous-chef-dom. We made a quiche. Actually, we ended up making two, because there was so much filling. It ended up tasting marvelous. Mel even came over for some dinner after her class. We've still got most of the second one left. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be consumed rather quickly.

Tuesday, August 23

Driving Miss Crazy

Long post ahead, just to warn you. I divided it into segments.


I'd like to let you in on a little secret. Driving is not my forte. Dustro knows this. He frequently uses the "driver's ed passenger brake" at me when he doesn't think I'll stop in time. But I had to drive from the apartment in O-town to my house in Winterset. Sure, it should've been a piece of cake. I did it last weekend, and the week before. But throw in a lot of rain, dark clouds, and more lightning than you'd care to shake a stick at ... and, well, I got confused. More than once.

Here's what happened: In Omaha, I-80 is kind of merged with I-29 for a little while. I wanted to get on 29 South so I could catch Hwy 92 for a straight shot home. Through all the rain, I somehow thought that I should take the 29 North exit (first mistake). I realized my mistake right away, of course, and there aren't any very good ways to turn around. (I drove past the casino where the Indigo Girls are playing on 16 Sept, so at least I know where that is ... Did I mention that we already have tickets? $20, baby!) Anyway, I got turned back around and got on 80 East again. This time I managed to take the 29 South exit. But for some reason, I was spacing off, distracted to the storm that I thought was off to the north. I was so wrong.

I went instead for Hwy 34 -– a good 20 miles south of where I wanted to be, but I thought that staying south of the storm was a good idea. I intended to grab Hwy 59 North to get back to where I wanted to be, but the storm didn't stay where I thought it was going to. I decided that it must be very large, so I called Dustro in a mild panic after I went through Red Oak and told him to look at weather.com. He told me that the storm wasn't that big, and that it wasn't even raining on Hwy 71, which was my next chance to go north. I didn't really believe him at first, because, having driven through a lot of heavy rain just moments before, I couldn't understand that the storm wasn't gigantic. (I should have taken the hint in Red Oak when I stopped for a little gas; it wasn't raining at all there.

So I kept on keepin' on, got to Hwy 71 without any further mishaps, and sped home when I got back to Hwy 92. And I still managed to get home in a little over two hours.


To change things up a bit, here's a little meme, thanks to Biddy Love, via this post. Questions posed are in italics, and her answers follow.

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.
Remember those times we went to WalMart with Allen and took all those photos? That's one of my favorite memories of all time.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
Anything Eddie Izzard, cos you love him so much!
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
One of those weird flavors that's really exotic but then is paired with a very common fruit like Mango-Guava-StarFruit-PassionFruit-Grape. It just seems right.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (maybe/maybe not).
Remember the choir tour package and book? Those were fabulous! I still have the book!
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
We met in Deutschkurs with the fabulous Herr Schmidt. The first thing I remember about you is that cute laugh you have and how every time Herr Schmidt said "Springen Sie!" you giggled.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
This is such a weird question... but even though it's not an animal per se, a ladybug. I distinctly remember you painting a lady bug for someone. I think.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
What got you so interested in learning about dead languages?
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. And so I did.

So to return the kindness ...

1. So this one time, at the drag ball ... you dressed like a girl! And then you were one of the infamous girls-turned-boyband. And then you were a girl again. (Maybe this explains your body trying to make you a man ...)
2. Anything Simon & Garfunkel, anything from the Biddy Mix, and French rap, thanks to all of those fabulous mix CDs you burned for me.
3. That horrible seven-layer jello that old ladies bring to church potlucks. It looks pretty, but would be much better used in a wrestling match than consumed by any living thing.
4. Viva ß!
5. Despite the many "Springen Sie!" episodes of dear old Deutschkurs, my first real recollection (I think -- time gets a little out of order sometimes) is the time we got all crafty and started painting and collaging on all those little paper boxes. There were a couple of tributes to W.C.W. in there. Good times. And of course, there's all that knitting.
6. A manatee, specifically for the time Barbara Manatee went missing for days and days and you were a little distraught.
7. ASL and French and Russian and German (English goes without saying, I suppose) -- you could be a one-woman, um, translator thingy. But the real question is, when did you start knitting? And why didn't you and I ever watch Hedwig together?


In other news, the paper has now adopted a cat, thanks to my dad telling some guy that we'd take care of the stray cat he found. We batted around names all day yesterday, and I think we finally decided to call him Quark, after the layout program we use.

Also, someone remind me to order one of these when I have a spare moment.

Sunday, August 21


I've hijacked Dustro's computer while he's at the pool, so I decided to update y'all on ... well, whatever.

Warning: I've been turning into a Jet. Or maybe a Shark. No, I haven't watched West Side Story recently, nor have I been rehearsing for a production of it, but every once in a while I snap. As in rhythmically. Roommate Dustro, at least, knows what I'm talking about. Don't worry. I'll get it out of my system soon.

I finished Mirror Mirror the other day. I enjoyed it more than Lost for sure, but I'm not entirely certain how I feel about the book. It left me wanting more. I can't really explain it. I liked it well enough, though, and I now understand your fascination with the Borgias a little better, Brenna.

I found my most recent addition to the book list, Going Nucular at a fun little book shop called The Bookworm, which is in the same shopping center as String of Purls (a very cute yarn shop). I've read a couple of the essays, and I must say, it's entertaining. It's rather like the last segment in my linguistics class this past spring, when we discussed society and language and the changes it goes through.

I've knit a total of five baby booties now. Pictures soon, most likely when I go back to work tomorrow. I also made a rather funky hat, which I'll also post. I'll be keeping this version though, as I made a rather odd mistake along one edge, leaving it to look as though something has gnawed on it.

Also, in my BBC email, I discovered this: Plain Speaking, which is certainly worth a read and a listen.

Well, I'm going to go find a sandwich.

Tuesday, August 16

More of the same

Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation Nothing much to add right now. I'm fairly certain that the world suffers from Over Capitalization, but that's really no concern of mine. I've realized recently that I forgot to retrieve Eats, Shoots & Leaves from someone I loaned it to. That's no good, so I sent him a message through thefacebook. I hope he checks it. If not, I'll have Mr BoJangles steal it from him.

Mirror Mirror : A NovelSpeaking of books, I've succumbed to buying Mirror Mirror, against my better judgement. It took me a good hour to get up the urge to read it last night, and by the time I got there, I was too tired to read far. I've gotten past the beginning, which seemed odd and rocky at first. At this point, I'm doubting that it will turn out like Snow, Glass, Apples, but really, who knows?

Since the roommate thinks that I should get a job a little closer to Omaha -- and obviously I do too, if gas is going to be $2.45 a gallon! -- I decided to head back tonight. I don't think I should be here too late.

AND I got to show off my mad Photoshop-ing skills today. Fabulous.

Sunday, August 14

A day in the life

I attended my first ever handfasting ceremony yesterday. It was complete with lots of rain, funky music (not Loreena McKennitt as I and LT had thought), happy parents, many meats and cheeses and, of course, a frog-shaped piƱata. To those parties interested in how a handfasting ceremony works (read: Beth and Sarah), we'll chat. It was good times. Photos later, if I get around to it.

After getting lost on the country roads and ending up a little farther west than was intended, I came home to work on a couple of baby booties. (I suddenly know a lot of preggo people ...) My fun, though had only just begun. I got to go to a parents-only showing of what my brothers had been doing at show choir camp the last few days. They had managed to completely memorise and choreograph "Car Wash", and it was pretty funny seeing my brothers do something other than grumble or play computer games (while wearing fabulous purple shirts, I might add). I'll have to come back for a show or two. My brothers make up two-fifths of the males in Noteable Jazz, due to (I think) most of the seniors being mad at der Professor for some reason. In short, it was good times, but nothing like "Thriller" and "Angel" in the old days.

My parents and I then returned the boys to the house and headed to Des Moines for a little pants shopping. My mom and I had been there a couple of weeks ago, before her $10 was valid, and kept them open late trying on all sorts of pants and deciding which city in their Cityology collection would work. Of course, by the time we got there last night, my mom had managed to lose her list and her coupon. She ended up buying a shirt and lots of pants, while I only got one button-down shirt and a pair of dark brown pants (Houston, if you're wondering which city I got).

I then dragged them to the Apple store on the other side of the mall, where I failed to convince the pater that I should get an iBook. He's set on the Mini, because it's so much cheaper. I want portability, he insists on affordability. Grrr. So no computer just yet, though I have yet to do a little mater-styled begging, as she promised last year that they'd buy me a computer when I threatened to use some scholarship money to score one. We shall see. Maybe I'll just sell a kidney.

By this time, we'd worked up quite an appetite, so we went to HuHot. I was still a little grouchy at them, but I ended up discovering the exact sauce flavor (Pad Thai) that I was hoping for, so I wasn't too sad. I also discovered that there's a HuHot in Omaha, not too far from the apartment (114th and Dodge), so I may have to drag Dustro and Melissa there sometime. I don't know if they're into Mongolian stir-fry, though.

And then I started reading Aristophanes' The Frogs last night because it's hella funny and the translator of this version decided to get all modern in the wording. (D=Dionysos, dressed as Herakles; X=Xanthias, his slave; H=Herakles)
D: Don't shift your load because "you need to go to the baffroom."
X: Can't I even tell the people I'm so over-loaded that unless somebody unloads me I'll blow my – bottom?
D: No, don't, please don't. Wait till I need to vomit.
D: So then I'm sitting on deck, see, reading this new book: Andromeda, by Euripides: all of a sudden it hits me over the heart, a craving, you can't think how hard.
H: A craving, huh. A big one?
D: Little one. Molon*-size.
H: A craving. For a woman?
D: No.
H: For a boy?
D: No no.
H: For a, uh, man?
D: Shush shush shush. ... I don't know how to explain. I'll paraphrase it by a parable. Did you ever feel a sudden longing for baked beans?
H: Baked beans? Gosh yes, that's happened to me a million times.

And so on.

So enough about me. On to the rest of my heathenistic Sunday, wherein I attempt to avoid church and gooey displays of Jesus-ness.

* Molon was an actor, apparently either very large or very small.

Wednesday, August 10


Lost is the third of Gregory Maguire's books that I've read. I have to say that, although I enjoyed all of them, each one is less and less fascinating than the last. I began with Wicked, continued with Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister and Lost. I must say that the concept for this book was less rewriting an old fairy tale and more ... standard fiction, I suppose. It is, after all, a book about a writer (Winnie) who is trying to write a book about a writer (Wendy) who is trying to write a book. I'm still a little hesitant to read Mirror Mirror, as it seems to be the classic Snow White story that, like Wicked and Confessions, will likely turn out to be an inside-out fairy tale.

But, I see as I continue surfing Amazon.com, Mr Maguire has written a sequel to Wicked, due out in September. And there's another novel due to be released in September ... written by my favourite author, Neil Gaiman. So I think I'm going to order Son of a Witch and Anansi Boys now. Then at least I'll have some exciting mail come September.

Pair that with the following: our air conditioning has seemingly gone out for the third time this summer, I keep sneezing and hiccoughing, and my dog looks vaguely like a chihuahua. It's certainly turned out to be an odd summer.

Tuesday, August 9

Definitely Tuesday

So yesterday was my parents' 24th anniversary. That means next year's the big two-five: the silver anniversary. My mom was on call last night, my dad always has to work late on Mondays ... it's a mess. I don't think they'll actually get to spend much time together until, oh, Friday. When did life get so bogged down with the little stuff? (Little stuff being work, meetings, volunteer work ...) Craziness.

Speaking of craziness, today is the Fableous Thaddleous' birthday. He's 23 today. What a geezer! I sent him a message yesterday over thefacebook, and I got a note back. since it came a day early it will set my day up to be a very special day!! go omaha!! According to Mr BoJangles, he's a dork. But since all I ever seem to hang out with these days are dorks ... it's quite fitting.

August is jam-packed full of exciting days. Lots of birthdays, anniversaries, and even a wedding this weekend. (I'm very pumped for that, by the by. It will be my first lesbian wedding, after all.)

And I get my new bed on Thursday. Hey, Dustro, do we have the Internets yet?

I really need to get back to work ... but what was I doing? Oh yeah. Nothing.

Sunday, August 7

Lemons and melons and pears

Oh my!

I don't know what was more exhausting: waking up very early to drive to CR in order to further travel to Chicago to see Wicked, or getting back at an ungodly hour, sleeping four hours, driving home to pack and move to Omaha. Oh, and since I don't have a bed until Thursday, I've been sleeping on the floor and on love seats.

But really, I'm pumped. I found a new queen-sized bed for not very expensive at all (read: less than $300), our place is very spacious, we have two love seats that were free, we have cooked some fabulous food, drank some very happy gin buckets, and watched a few episodes of Sex in the City.

Now if I only had a job ...

Wednesday, August 3


After attempting to post twice yesterday but being thwarted yet again by the county fair, here I am. Of course, I can't stay long, because I'm leaving for Cedar Rapids / Chicago in, oh, 20 minutes. And I don't know what I'm going to wear. All I know is that it's too early to actually be awake and functioning. That's why I ate some toast.

I'm so excited. It's finally time to see Wicked, after planning months ago ... the only thing I'm not excited about is the drive. But hey, I'm bringing a pillow.

Chicago, here I come!