Rainy Days and Mondays…

…may get other people down, but personally, when said Monday is either a) the first day of a month of vacation or b) a holiday, or c) both, I love them. Yesterday was both rainy and a Monday, a lamplit day of the sort appropriate for quiet pursuits. It would have been ideal for reading and listening to NPR and napping in the afternoon just because we could.

We both did do some reading – Fuzzy finished book four in a dragon series we’ve both been reading, which books are fabulous in concept, but really poorly edited, which annoys me, though doesn’t seem to phase Fuzz. I’m not talking awkward word choices here and there either, but more basic things like spelling and grammar. These books might have been run through the spell-check in Word, but that’s about it.

I, on the other hand, went to Barnes and Noble the other night and bought NOTHING – because I’m the only person in the world who can walk into a store full of books and leave claiming there’s nothing to read. In truth, there were a couple things I picked up and then put down, because none fit my mood. Upon returning home, however, I found a book I’d purchased a few weeks ago and had started then set aside because some other book claimed my attention. Now, however, it fit my mood, and so I’ve been read it in fits and snatches all weekend, mostly in the bathroom.

Otherwise, I indulged in a personal MONK marathon while doing seemingly endless loads of laundry, and cuddling with the dogs. I still feel really achey from a pulled muscle, and I still feel like I’m behind on sleep. Tonight, I turned the lights out at 11:30 – early for me, especially considering I don’t have to be up at five – and I was blissfully asleep for an hour, until Fuzzy came to bed, which involved the Ritual of Last Call for the dogs, and then the subsequent dominance games they play on our bed. In the process, Zorro decided that going out into the wet to pee was Not Going to Happen, and announced this by leaving a veritable lake on the living room floor. He’s becoming more and more cantankerous now that he’s nine. So one AM found me keeping Cleo away from the puddle, and Fuzzy on his knees cleaning the floor. I love my dogs. But sometimes I wish we’d stuck with fish. Fish are good. They’re quiet, they don’t bring dead things into the living room, you don’t have to walk them, and if you forget to feed them they eat each other. Of course, they’re more like furniture than actual pets, but…

Anyway, here it is 4 AM. I woke convinced I’d heard a noise, except I think I dreamed it, but Fuzzy was up, as well, because he had to use the bathroom, which triggered my need and now I’m awake, and restless, and it’s hot, but then it’s not, and the pillows aren’t cool – even when I flipped mine over so the cool side would be against my cheek, it felt warm – and, and, and…

I’d talked to my mother briefly earlier in the day, because I was concerned since all day Sunday when I tried to call I kept getting messages that I was unable to call that country, even when I tried her toll-free number, so when we finally connected I was half-convinced Hurricane John had rebuilt itself after going over the Gulf of California, which would never have made the local media here because once Cabo San Lucas was determined to be out of danger, the rest of Baja ceased to exist. It turns out that they were fine – had power back but no internet, yet, and that TelMex had blocked the lines to avoid panic calls. Groovous.

I’m not sure what I’m doing today – I have plans that range from “nothing” to “clean the kitchen top to bottom” and “make your office neat, orderly, and work friendly” but whatever I decide, for the moment, I’m going back to sleep, or at least turning off the computer and lying in the dark to listen to the restful breathing of Fuzzy and the dogs.

And to smile softly about a day of rain.

Grey

Outside is grey, and the air is taut
Tight like a drum beating time in my brain
Just enough off from the rhythm of my pulse
That it creates silent, painful dissonance behind my eyes.

Thunder rolls casually across the sky
As a tourist drives by a famous landmark
And counts such as actually being there
Another picture postcard from a place never experienced

A pulled muscle refuses to stretch, and like the air
Feels thick and unwieldy
Hurts to move, but also to keep still
And my temperature is cold and hot

And my mood is grey
Neither up nor down
But bland and indifferent
Like the grey outside.

Freedom

Tired as I was after work yesterday, I was still mentally singing “Freedom, freedom, freedom,” all night, because my time at BigFinancialCompany has come to an end. Oh, I love the people I worked with, but the job itself became a soulsucking nightmare, and no job is worth the exhaustion and crabbiness that this one caused. With the exception of ComedySportz, I’ve done nothing remotely creative since December.

I got work at nine yesterday, an hour before my scheduled time, and worked pretty much nonstop. If it hadn’t been for A’s amazing cake (thank you, A) and the hot dogs a broker sent, lunch would not have happened. As it was, it was 5:24 before I left, not the five I’d planned.

We zipped over to FedEx on the way to downtown Dallas, and by the time we were out of the parking lot, I’d fallen asleep, waking just before the exit for the West End. Yeah. I was that tired. We’ve been functioning on four or less hours of sleep for almost two months now, and it’s just wrong.

The show was interesting. I don’t think any of us were completely into it, and the audience was small (pre-season football + Labor Day Friday), and yet, it was MY best night ever. I won Doo-Rap, and made it to the final round on Story, and the last time we did either, I was out first. I only did one quick entrance/line/exit in Blind Line, but that was a choice because my teammates E and TC had a great scene going and if I’d really joined it would have made the chemistry all unmixy. I’m still really uncomfortable with Five Things, but thankfully TC set everything up. I owe him big for that. We didn’t finish the last thing, but it didn’t matter, because the goal of not having to do the catch-up game was achieved. (We also played Sing It, which was fun, but not spectacular.)

We didn’t linger for open mic night. I was way too tired to be around people by that point, and hungry for something reasonably approximating actual food – we ended up going to Denny’s so we could eat something without being mauled by small dogs, and I was in bed within an hour of getting home, and still am, in fact, though I’ve been up and down to let the dogs in and out a couple times.

It’s 1:30, and I’m trying to convince the Fuzz-man that getting up would be a wise decision, but he’s in denial.

And the bed is soft. And we don’t really NEED to be up til four…

Did You Know that Food Porn comes in Paperback?

A couple of years ago, following links from one blog to another, as one does, I came upon a woman named Laura, an American living in France. At her site, I found a person who understands the funky sounds of New Jersey Neopolitan accents and knows how to pick the perfect eggplant from a market stand. I was hooked.

We’ve exchanged comments every so often, but work has sucked me further from the blogospere than I really meant to be, so when I visited recently and learned she had a book coming out, it was a surprise.

Of course I immediately ordered it.

And while it did not arrive on my birthday, it did arrive during my birthday MONTH, so I’m considering it a sort of present to myself.

The book? My Keyboard for a Cutting Board: Adventures in a French Kitchen v1.0, by Laura Pauli.

If the strawberries brazenly displayed on the cover don’t draw you in, the writing will.

Six Things

CarynSilver at LJ tagged me to share six random facts about myself. I’ve done the meme before, but I’m feeling chatty, so why not?

1) I don’t like it when someone uses a word I don’t know. Example: phrenic. Someone used this word last night, and I had to look it up this morning. Although now I’m not convinced it’s the right word because the definition (other than the obvious of having to do with specific nerves) is that it’s a sort of synonym for brainy/cerebral/intellectual.

2) I love word-games, especially Scrabble, though UpWords annoys me. (I believe that it’s fatally flawed because it does not allow the use of Q without U.) I’m also a great fan of Balderdash and a lovely conversation game called What? (What? is very simple to play, and its nature is that it can be played subtly. Basically, the goal is to eliminate the use of the word “what” from a normal conversation, including all non-English equivalents of the word, while trying to manipulate the other people involved into using the word. It’s a great game for parties and car trips.)

3) I’m craving rice pudding. I could make it, but somehow making it feels like cheating. Rice pudding is meant to be eaten from basic white restaurant bowls with cheap metal spoons, preferably in vintage diners. Raisins are optional. A sprinkling of cinnamon is a welcome addition. It should be chilled.

4) I wish there was more Shakespeare in my life. I went to Shakespeare camp a few summers, and had so much fun, and now, when it comes up in ordinary life, I get really wistful. The thing is, READING Shakespeare doesn’t cut it. It’s poetry and meant to be spoken, performed. The language is awkward when not uttered aloud.

5) I signed up for Fanfic 100 at LiveJournal. A friend had mentioned it, and I was intrigued. Fanfic is what I use as a writing warmup because playing with characters who are already established means you can jump right to scene-building and dialogue creation without having to first do major world-building. My two favorite fanfic characters were already taken, so I chose a world I’m comfortable with, and a character I’ve never really explored, because I like a challenge. No, I’m not telling who. Well, maybe if you ask.

6) I’ve started researching Florida real estate. Lennar has some great new communities that have houses in the range I’ve set as our max (around $300k), with lovely floor plans. Fuzzy wants a turret, though, and I’m not sure we can make that happen.

Meme-a-licious

Stolen from Klae and Rainbowbinky at LiveJournal, because they always have cool things to steal.

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: your first pet, street name
Taffy Sylvia

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your moms side, your favorite candy)
Esterina Baci

3. YOUR “FLY GIRL/GUY” NAME: (first initial of first name, first two of your middle name)
M An (ugh, don’t like that one)

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Indigo Shark

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Annette Monmouth

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom’s maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in.)
Bar Meklatl, or (Kli Meklatl if I use MY maiden name, both of which seem vaguely obscene)

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (“The”, your favorite color, favorite drink)
The Indigo Macchiato

Borders and First Book

Clarissa Peterson of First Book wrote this to me, and I promised to share:

Shop at Borders Aug. 26 & 27 & share the magic of books!

August 26 and 27 are Borders National Benefits Days. First Book is handing out a coupon for 10% off at Borders on those days – and an additional 10% of purchases made with the coupon will be donated back to First Book by Borders. A good way to save money on back-to-school purchases and help First Book at the same time.

(CLICK THE IMAGES FOR THE COUPON)

Shop at Borders & give the gift of books to children in need! Aug 26-27.

Scope for the Imagination…

Rob gives this assignment:
Psychologists Ed Diener and Martin E.P. Seligman cite 150 studies that suggest economic factors have little to do with happiness levels. For example, the Masai of Kenya, whose per capita income is under $300 a year, are as satisfied with their lives as the 400 wealthiest plutocrats in America. People living in the slums of Calcutta are slightly less filled with well-being, but not much. Your assignment, Leo, is to explore the personal implications of this. Can you get to the point where you truly feel that your ability to enjoy life has little to with how much money you have?

And then Cainer says this:
Everything you need is near you. It may not be obvious. You may have to do a little detective work and employ some ingenuity too. You may have to slightly rethink the notion of what it is you actually need. You may have to remember resources that you have not drawn on in a while or swallow your pride and request assistance from a companion. But as long as you are prepared to reach out hopefully, Jupiter insists that you will soon find something solid and reliable that you can grasp.

It’s cool when the boys are on the same general page, don’t you think?

And while I generally treat horoscopes as sort of writing prompts, I like that both are in agreement with my decision to check out of corporate America for a while.

Audiobookish

I’m not a great fan of audiobooks, really, because they tend to take too long (I’m a fast reader), but the sinus pressure in my head and the new toy (green zen vision m (30 GB)) have combined to make me a temporary fan of the medium.

My first was a total geekfest, the Alien Voices production of Spock vs. Q, performed by Nimoy and deLancie. Definitely worth the hour and the $6.

My second, which I am barely into, is March by Geraldine Brooks, which is the story of Josephine March’s FATHER away at war, and, much like Wide Sargasso Sea was to Jane Eyre is more a companion to the original work than any sort of pastiche.

Alas the reader is not quite the voice I crave, the one I remember from late nights of listening to the KPFA Evening Reading just before sleep as a freshman in high school. He doesn’t have a bad voice. But the one I remember reading The Call of the Wild is the ultimate reading voice.

And no, I don’t know the names of either.

Still, for Alcott fans, I do recommend March, by Geraldine Brooks.