Category Archives: Splashes

Conversations with Fuzzy

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“Lovey!” Fuzzy called in his panicked tone, as he entered the house last night. (It should be noted, however that Fuzzy, aka Stoic!Boy, is a midwesterner, and therefore his panicked tone is only fractionally different from his normal voice.) “Lovey, we need to talk about the car.”

This is not the way to begin a conversation, especially when your wife is a self-identifying Californian with strident Italian relatives, and a history of summering with them at the Jersey shore. (Translation: there is no way in hell I could ever be called Stoic!Gal.)

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my mind rapidly flipping through options. Did we need to find a truck accident lawyer because my generally mild husband finally lost it and attacked the driver of one of the ubiquitous monster-SUVs that block the sun from half our neighborhood. Or worse, had he hit an animal?

“We need to get the tires done, like now. I noticed one has visible steel.”

I refrained from pointing out that car maintenance falls into his purvey. I pay the bills, I do the cooking, and I deal with most home repairs, but the car is his job.

“Okay,” I said. “I thought you’d asked for a quote on new tires a few weeks ago.”

“Well, they never called me back.”

I gave him the sort of death glare that is so often used between committed partners. The one that clearly means, “And you aren’t capable of picking up the phone to follow up???” (The multiple question marks are obligatory.)

“I guess I should call them tomorrow morning,” he said after an excruciatingly long pause in which I practiced the technique I learned when still in mortgages of not talking first once a deal has been offered because the person who speaks first loses.

“Yes,” I said, “I think that would be a good idea, Sweety.”

Approximately seventeen hours later, the car was sporting new tires.

Smallville isn’t the only fictional town in Kansas

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Over the last two and a half weeks, Fuzzy and I have worked our way through the entire too-brief run of Jericho, thanks to the superpass at Blockbuster that allows you to take out a movie, and keep swapping it for other movies and/or games for one monthly fee.

Those who know me will understand why I resisted watching it when it was on: Other than the fact that it conflicted with Project Runway at least some of the time, I have issues with movies and shows that involve people being tired, cold, scared, hungry, dirty, or lacking toilet paper. It is for this reason that I stopped watching Battlestar Galactica, and it is for this reason why the Underworld movies, which premise I like, did not appeal.

I have no problem with dark subjects, blood and guts, or violent scenes as long as they move the plot forward, and as long as they also involve the main characters getting to go home to a warm dinner, a hot bath, and bunny slippers after they’re done saving the world or fighting for injustice.

Nevertheless, once we were fifteen minutes into Jericho, I was wishing we had a living room with surround sound and home theater seating, because I was hooked. It helped, I think, that some of the writers had worked on one of my favorite shows, The West Wing, and that the producer, John Turtletaub was also involved with the National Treasure movies, which I think are lovely escapist entertainment.

So, this post sees me standing corrected. Jericho rocks, and I’m sorry I didn’t watch it when it was actually, you know, on.

Pink Ink.

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I should be blogging about the sexy pink fountain pen that I bought from RichardINK, but I’m so tired, and have written so many words today for work and in my novel, and such, that I’m going to just crash.

However, I will note that among the ink cartridges he sent with the pen was a pink one that I cannot wait to try, and the weight of the pen is really satisfyingly solid without being uncomfortably heavy.

And on that note, I’m going to bed. Yay, bed.

Media Monday: Mamma Mia

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It opened here on Friday, and we saw it on Sunday, and loved it. It’s fluff, but it’s joyful fluff, and reminded me of being seven years old and knowing the lyrics to all of ABBA’s music. I had to be restrained to keep from singing along. (Note: there needs to be a sing-along Mamma Mia in the same vein as the sing-along Sound of Music.)

As we were leaving, Fuzzy said, “So we’re buying this on DVD as soon as it comes out, right?”

As if there’s any question.

P.S. The calendar may say “Tuesday,” but as I haven’t been to bed yet, it’s still “Monday” to me.

Catching Up

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I’ve been negligent about blogging here. I could list any number of things that were keeping me away, but the reality is, I’ve either been writing fiction, writing for work, prepping for my conference, or reading, and I feel like I’m gathering my energy. Also, I just don’t have a lot to say.

The weekend before last, we went to one of those seminars where they try to sell you a timeshare and give you prizes. We had no intention of buying anything, even when they offered to throw in everything from Callaway golf clubs to the kitchen sink, but we left with a gift certificate for 2 free tickets anywhere in the US (sadly, too late to use for San Francisco) and a seven-day car rental to use with them.

Not too shabby.

We also saw Hancock which was disappointing, largely because it was a black comedy for the first half than morphed into some weird romantic epic/action flick. The performances were fine. The script sucked.

We spent this last weekend at the movies as well, seeing The Dark Knight on Saturday afternoon, and both Journey to the Center of the Earth and Mamma Mia on Sunday. Gotta love matinees.

I also had my nails done, in preparation for my trip. I had a discount for services at a place Deb said was good, and we met there, and had some girly fun. I’m now sporting solar acrylics – I’ve never had fake nails before – but the cost is about the same, and it’s been two and a half days and they still look amazing. With normal nails, I can’t go two and a half hours without chipping or breaking something. They’re longer than I’m used to, however, and I can’t decide if I like the French Manicure look. Still, they look really good.

Two weeks to go.
Watch now as I panic.

Sticky Notes

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I used to call my bullet posts “sticky notes” because they reminded me of all the little things I scribble on, well, sticky notes (Post-It being a specific BRAND of same) to write about later, except that I rarely, actually do.

This post is actually about the sticky notes themselves. You see, when I was purging my desk of the remnants of my life in loans, I also threw out big stacks of sticky notes. Why? Because these were the free ones, given as marketing toys by various title companies and mortgage lenders, and with the current state of the mortgage industry, keeping them around was too depressing.

I look at the company names and think, “I wonder if Amy/Rachel/Tina/Nicole/Joe/Mike is still employed. I wonder if they’re still in the industry.”

The thing about the real estate industry, whether it’s the part where you sell houses, or the part where you finance them, is that, like a sticky note stuck to the bottom of your shoe, it stays with you. You may think you’ve left, but then three years later, you’ll find yourself telling a friend, “Let me look at your Good Faith Estimate before you sign it, and just make sure you’re not being overcharged, or underquoted,” and someone overhears you, and, and, and…

Or two years later, in the midst of a mortgage industry crisis a recruiter calls you, and asks if you want to give up your self-employment as a writer and come back to work, and it’s all you can do not to rudely laugh in their face, when you ask. “Are there actually companies still running?”

The thing is, a lot of what’s happening is NOT the fault of individual lenders, or a problem that originated in the industry. It’s cascade failure. It’s a last-straw scenario. It’s, “fuel is getting more expensive, but we need fuel to deliver goods, so to offset it we’re cutting jobs,” followed by “honey, I’m looking but no one in my field is hiring,” followed by having to choose between paying for your house or buying food, and, while it’s true that there ARE predatory lenders, and always have been, most of these companies are completely above-board, and if their customers didn’t read the part of the contract where it says in really big, black letters, “THIS IS AN ADJUSTABLE. IT WILL GO UP IN 2 YEARS, AND WILL FLUCTUATE THEREAFTER,” it really isn’t their fault.

For that matter, not all adjustables are bad. There’s a reason they exist, and there are times when they’re extremely advantageous.

But it’s more than I can explain on a sticky note.

Bibliotica Lives!

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It’s been roughly two months since I’ve updated my bookblog at Bibliotica, but I have been reading a lot. Most recently, I finished Water for Elephants and I’m currently reading The Man of My Dreams by the same person who wrote Prep.

While I haven’t yet re-vamped the skin (need to do that soon), I have added one of those astore pages, you know, the kinds that sell Amazon books and give you a kickback? I have NOT linked to it in this article because it’s not quite live yet. Look for it on Sunday or Monday.

I have two more novellas to read before Algonkian. I’m in this zone where I’m both terrified and excited. Expect that to be the case until August 4th, when I leave.

And keep thinking good thoughts, please?

Kierkegaard & Me

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Your result for The which philosophy suits your personality? Test…

Personal Religion, by Kierkegaard

40% Nature, 54% Rationalism, 30% Religion, 52% Freedom, 86% Individuality, 42% Power and 52% Uncertainty!

You scored highest on the variable Individuality. Individuality was an important part of Kierkegaard’s philosophy.

Søren Kierkegaard, 1813- 1855, Denmark.

Kierkegaard thought true religion should be found within yourself and not in uniformity. He did not oppose Christianity, but he opposed the Christian Church. The Church preached faith for the masses by rituals and generalization, which makes one lose its identity and leads to despair. True peace can only be found within yourself. As more and more people claim to have a personal belief/religion instead of conforming to a church, I think Kierkegaard was ahead of his time.

Possible results:

Nature: the Scala Naturae by Aristotle

Rationality: Cogito Ergo Sum by Descartes

Religion: Proof God Exists by Saint Augustine

Freedom: Existentialism by Sartre

Individuality: Personal Religion by Kierkegaard

Power: Will to Power by Nietzsche

Uncertainty: Agnosticism by Hume

No high variable: Synthetic Perception by Kant

Take The which philosophy suits your personality? Test at HelloQuizzy

The Ever Spinning Wheel

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In my day job, I’m often called to write about things like how to insure muscle cars and street rods, with special attention paid to things like how after market upgrades impact one’s insurance premium. It’s not very exciting stuff, though it pays well enough to give me the freedom to work on my own stuff, which is a lot more than most writers can say.

Since I don’t like the notion of sounding like Bambi when I write, I often research some of the parts that are mentioned, and one of the least expensive and most common upgrades I see are to wheels. In fact, Bullet wheels come up with impressive frequency.

If you’ve never considered upgrading the wheels on your car, let me tell you that for such a small thing, they make a huge impact. They’re the automotive equivalent of a signature piece of jewelry that enhances one’s outfit in just the right fashion. They are bling, but they’re bling even neophyte tuners can afford.

Shiny, stylish, and offered with free shipping as well as free mount and balance services, these wheels would make anyone stop and take notice of your car. Even better, most of them are under $200.

You may remember that I wrote about spying a vintage Mustang for sale in the Albertsons parking lot a few months ago. These wheels would have been the perfect finishing touch for that car, and I still wish we’d had the cash on hand to get it. As it is, we drive a Subaru Forester, and modding a Forester is sort of like putting a spoiler on a tricycle. There is no point.

Even so, I can dream about shiny metal rims every time I’m called upon to wax rhapsodic about the Silver Bullitt Mustang.