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Also of note: Both Stargates, and Project Runway, are shows I rarely miss when they’re on, but I’m a little miffed at the former, and the latter is between seasons. |
Originally uploaded by Ms.Snarky.
So, I now own a MacBook, which I needed for work, so I could run some froufrou software that doesn’t have a Windows equivalent. With the exception of the lack of a right-click function (yes, I know you can hold a key and it does the same thing, however it’s NOT THE SAME) I quite like the mac, especially now that it’s been wrapped in a translucent pink techshell. All that white was hurting my eyes.
My VAIO has better video, mind you, but this is nice. Fast. And cute. And hey, with the plastic cover it matches my phone, and that’s a good thing.
This picture was taken with said pink phone, and it’s a reflection of my desktop monitor and the window, in the pink case. As photos go, it’s technically bad, yet somehow I like it.
It took five hours to drive the 253 miles from our house in Grand Prairie to the Hotel Indigo in Houston, largely because of several car wrecks we saw on the way. I don’t know if Texas drivers are worse than other areas or if it’s just that everyone has to take the same route from point A to point B, but it was frustrating. For the record, coming home last night took just over three hours, including a pit stop at McDonald’s in Fairfield for elimination and fries.
The hotel, however was lovely, and I’d totally go back. Actually, I’ve seen apartments in Greenwich Village that are smaller and not as well appointed.
The wedding was – well, I hesitate to review a wedding – suffice to say it was seriously cool – the ceremony was funny, warm, genuine, irreverent, and heartfelt, the food was delicious, the flowers were gorgeous, and the bride was radiant. Not sure if you’re reading this, but I hope you and your new husband continue as you began, with laughter, love, and light hearts.
On the way home we stopped in Spring, which is an historic town north of Houston on I45. We browsed shops full of kitschy souvenirs, and then I fell into a hat store, which turned out to be owned by the woman who runs Stall 18 at Scarborough Faire. I bought two hats from her last year (one for my mother), and yesterday I added to my collection with a 1920’s-ish straw hat, adorned with silk flowers in mauve and antique rose. I love it.
Went to workshop and met all the new players – yay, we’re not the newest group any more! Developed a migraine half way through – my own fault, as I hadn’t eaten all day – so didn’t participate in the Five Things practice, but watched it intently. Did better than usual with What Are You Doing, offering “Shielding my thoughts from aliens” as a response to the suggestion “tin foil.”
Came home, had a cheeseburger and a cherry coke and some Excedrin migraine tablets, and curled up with laptops and dogs. And now?
BED!
Appetizer
What is your usual bedtime? Do you like that, or would you rather it be different?
It varies – we’re very nocturnal, so we tend to be up at least til one, and two or three on weekends, but I wish I was one of those people who could easily fall asleep around eleven, at least in summer, so I could take advantage of cool mornings.
Soup
When it comes to advice, do you give more or receive more?
I tend to give more, but it depends on the subject.
Salad
Describe a memorable meal you’ve had.
We’re currently staying at the Hotel Indigo in Houston, and we just came upstairs from a light supper at their bistro. We had appetizers of red and blue corn chips with melted bleu cheese and salsa, and then Fuzzy had a bbq chicken pizzetta, and I had a delightful salad of spring greens and sliced zucchini, carrot, and tomato with sundried cranberries and balsamic vinaigrette, with grilled salmon crumbled on top. Filling but still light and healthy. Not the most divine food ever, but a very relaxing end to a day of driving. (Also this hotel rocks – they have the same cherry laminate flooring we do.)
Main Course
Name a work of fiction that affected the way you think about something.
I read so much, but for the most part, fiction is mind candy to me, and doesn’t linger. There are, however, elements of many novels that stick with me – anything that involves having the courage to write, or taking time to plant flowers. But if I had to name one, probably The Mists of Avalon is probably it – I read it in high school, and it was the first time I’d ever considered there was a different POV – and a feminine one, at that – to Arthurian Legend.
Dessert
What is your favorite type of fruit juice?
Odwalla’s Tangerine juice is my favorite single-flavor juice. It’s different than actual orange.
At home, I blend orange and cranberry a lot, or mix cranberry juice with sparkling water and lime.
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13 Movies I really Dig
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It’s been a horrid day. While mulled wine, made in the microwave, eased the cough I can’t shake enough for me to sleep last night, it knocked me out to the point where I overslept today, and never did manage to shower or dress, beyond the addition of underwear and old comfy (ripped in a thousand places) cotton leggings. I also managed to spill said wine on my soft, blue, cotton NaNoWriMo shirt, thus making it look as though I was shot. My grandmother, if she had been buried instead of cremated, would be rolling in her grave. If she were still alive, she’d be calling me words like “ragamuffin” and “you look like a miserable wretch,” and she’d be write.
So the day started badly.
It then got worse. I broke my blog, lost the piece I was writing for work – twice – spilled water on electronic equipment, jammed my printer, and knocked my already-damaged keyboard tray off it’s rollers thus breaking it MORE, and I fought with Fuzzy, and the cord on my keyboard isn’t long enough to put on the top of my desk because of the way the cords are strung, and Fuzzy brought me DayQuil instead of a dedicated cough suppressant, but it just doesn’t work, and I don’t have enough of my work stuff loaded onto the MacBook to use it exclusively.
I just want to scream.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Actually, that felt kind of good.
My skin is dry, and itchy, and lotion isn’t helping, and I’m drinking tons of water, but it’s not helping either. I’m tired and crabby didn’t get as much done today as I’d hoped.
Also, Macs seriously need to look into the concept of right-click. And the Vaio has way better video.
A friend in Houston is getting married this weekend, and after being sick on and off all year (so far), I’m really excited about getting away, even though it’s only overnight. We wanted to stay longer, but this is a bad weekend for that, so Fuzzy’s agreed I can book a weekend at a B&B in Galveston for later this spring.
In any case, Friday night we’re staying at the Hotel Indigo, recommended by the bride, and it looks fantastic. Their design theme is all very nautical, and their philosophy involves Fibonacci sequences and Phi, as well as the nautilus. The rooms all have cushy high beds with tons of pillows, hardwood floors, and frou-frou showers, and there’s a Starbucks in the lobby. The decor in the pictures is very similar to my own tastes, and has me wanting to paint the house. (We’re starting with the kitchen.)
I’m thinking about painting our bedroom blue. A cheery blue. With sneaker white trim. I like nautical colors – our bedding now runs toward nautical themes. Blue and that sunny-but-not-overwhelming Italian yellow. Happy colors.
Stayed up too late cleaning because I was wired. Off to work now.
I say… And you think…?
Like this meme? Play along here.
In playing in meme-land I’ve recently been introduced to Sunday Scribblings. This week, they’re asking about Superstition.
When you grow up living and breathing theatre, you hear about theatrical superstitions from the ground up – never wish anyone “good luck,” a bad dress rehearsal means a good opening night, never whistle in a theatre, never put a hat on a bed, never refer to a certain Shakespeare play by name, but rather as The Scottish Play, etc. For someone like me, though, with an active imagination, the crowning superstition is that of the Unfinished Story.
It’s a common theme in entertainment – characters enter a scenario only to be locked in until the story plays out, at which point everything ‘resets,’ and, for me at least, it’s related mostly to scary stories. I refer to unfinished from the reader’s perspective, in this, and not the writer’s, though the corresponding writerly superstition would be “talk about it and the story dies.”
But I digress.
There’s a kind of power in a tale that hasn’t ended. Until you get to the ending, you don’t know if the vampire will be dusted, or the war will be averted, or the lovers will reunite, and if you’re me, and read a lot of scary stories, and have an imagination that runs away with you, you NEED to know how things end.
Case in point. I recently read a novel called Fangland, which I mentioned here, I think, was so creepy I had to read it in daylight. It was the kind of story that lingered in my mind, whispering at me as if walls between reality and fiction had grown thin, and the whispers didn’t cease, couldn’t cease, until I’d read the tale to the end, and the resolution had been accepted.
So, that’s my superstition: Stories must never be left unfinished.
I’ve confirmed that it’s the software for my cell card that causes Norton to disallow the checking of email. Stupid software.
