Sick. Blech.

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I've been fighting a sinus infection since I got home from France, and finally lost the battle while helping Fuzzy with system build's last Thursday. Yes, the new system works (witness this post), yes, it's rip-roaringly fast, no, I haven't played with it much, only enough to load office and set up email.

I spent almost the whole weekend in bed, vegging in front of tv. This is something I never do, but my head hurt too much to read, and I couldn't breathe enough to sleep the whole time.

I still sound like a toad, and am still congested, and grumpy, and spacey.
I have learned that Nyquil and Chai are my friends.

In an effort to cheer me up, Fuzzy bought me Season 1 of Angel on DVD, and we've replaced Season 1 of Highlander with DVD (we have the whole series on VHS). And we're on episode 17 of season 1 of Babylon 5, which means there will be a respite soon. Yay.

Tonight, Fuzzy promised me oatmeal.
Don't laugh. I LIKE oatmeal.

The Rain Stopped Too Soon

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Of all weather (and by that I mean conditions other than temperate sunny days), rainstorms are my favorite. I love the ominous grey skies that come before, love the sound of rain on the roof, down the chimney, on the awning over the back porch – each of these has a distinctive pitch and tone, and the three combine to make a trio that rivals anything Satchmo or Charlie Parker could ever have come up with. Nature's jam session, and it's completely free.

Usually, I'm inspired by rain. I fill pages (well, virtual pages, these days) with fiction I never share (I have this issue with dialog. I suck at it.) Or essays that I really do mean to tweak one day. I switch from coffee to tea, during these phases, and hang around my house in my favorite baggy sweatpants that used to be black, and an equally baggy t-shirt.

Eventually, inevitably, the sun comes back. Often the return of sunshine coincides with the the end of a weekend or vacation, which means I'm forced to bottle up any creativity, and store it away for the next time I have time to indulge my whims.

This weekend, there was rain, and it was wonderful, but I feel as though the time spent shopping and putting together the New and Improved computer room was somehow wasted, because I didn't have time to dabble in writing or music, or devour the stack of novels in my bedroom.

Oh, sure, it was productive, but it wasn't enough. It's never enough.

Color me moody and grey today.
So moody, I actually did a

MoonGoddess
Goddess of the Night. Beautiful yet a strange
darkness and sadness lurk about you.

What element would you rein over? (For Girls)
brought to you by Quizilla

Maybe it was the rain

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…that finally prompted us to buy the office furniture we'd been longing for since moving into this house in October, or maybe it was just that we finally had the time. As I write this, I'm sitting at my new desk, and I'm realizing just how big a sixty inch desk really is. I mean, this thing is as long as I am tall, and while my height is nothing compared to most other adults, the same length is a vast expanse of clutterable surface.

Except I've vowed not to clutter it.

In any case, I spent my morning first having my fingertips painted with nail-polish that has some cutesey name, but which reminded me of the Crayola color “orchid”…or maybe “thistle” (are those colors even in the box any more. I'll have to open the crayon box and check.) For those who are crayon-impaired, it's a sort of pinkish lavenderish color that one would normally associate with little girls in brand-new Easter hats, but the bottle was there, and Eliana was willing (I think it helped that I paid her to do it), and now my fingers are orchid. Or thistle. (Thorchid? Orchistle? Whatever.)

I spent the rest of my salon time, my precious me-time, with my feet in Eliana's lap, while I sipped “comforting tea.” As a result, I now have feet that are even happier than my fingertips, though my toes are NOT orchid. Or thistle. They are “I'm Really Not A Waitress” red. Can you tell that's an OPI color? Yeah, I thought so.

Anyway, we trekked over to Organized Living, which apparently isn't organized enough to have a functional website. Despite this, they have fabulous office furniture. I wanted to buy about $2000 worth of sleek glass and steel office accoutrements, but, since that was a bit beyond our budget for half a room, and since Fuzzy has to have his desk in here as well, that didn't happen.

(Note: I love Fuzzy very much, but he's horrible to shop for furniture with. “I don't like glass. I need to have three monitors side by side. My laptop sticks over the edge half an inch. It's not a CORNER desk.” ARGH!)

So, we compromised: I bought just the desk from the glass and steel collection. It's a really sexy desk, too. The top is frosted glass with just a hint of green, like beach glass. Then there are four cherry-wood supports, and then the rest is a soft steel. No drawers, just a keyboard tray. The rest of the pieces I bought are in cherry as well. But not that dark cherry. This is a warm blonde cherry that could easily cohabitate with pearwood or teak. Yum. Just…yum. It even makes the red walls in this room actually look like they SHOULD be red. Shocking, I know. But anyway, I've added a mobile file (which is under the far right side of the desk) and a two door cabinet, which now holds paper inside, and my printer/fax/thing and scanner on top. I plan to add another cabinet with a hutch on top, for more storage, and for art and books. Maybe in a week or so.

To tie the desk and the cherry all together, I found a rosewood-stained and silver mail sorter-thing, more like a demi-hutch, really, and a matching pencil cup. The wood softens the harshness of the steel, and, with my funky red lamp, gives a sort of retro feel to the whole space, as if when I sit here I'm propelled back in time to the jazz age, and instead of typing into a computer, I'm really jetting to Havana for martinis and dancing.

Well…one can dream.

Fuzzy's side of the room isn't finished yet. His desk isn't cherry, and should really be darker than the beech it is, but it made him happy, and I can live with it (or maybe get an artistic room-divider screen, or something), and, really, anything's better than what we had.

It's after two-thirty, and I'm tired. Pictures will be forthcoming soonish. Really. Until then, be well, everyone.

Obligatory Valentine’s Day Post

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There were flowers.
And chocolate.
Both from the evil (aka He who Never Posts), who stole my keys and snuck into my office so said items would be waiting for me this morning.

And more flowers.
Irises, my favorite flower, from (aka, He Whose Hair Elastic I Forgot to Return).

There was Chinese food (we went early, to Tsing Tao. Yum!) I bame for this, because if he hadn't mentioned that his family had Chinese, it never would have occurred to me to suggest it tonight.

There was yet another trip to Organized Living, where we found out ALL the desks we like are ON SALE. We'd planned to go desk-shopping tomorrow. Desk-PURCHASING, even, which is far more entertaining than merely looking.

There was Chicago which means I was doing my best Fosse-dancer imitation in the kitchen while making tea a few minutes ago. (Btw, if you haven't seen this, do! It was everything I hoped it would be, even if they did cut some songs.) (um, I mean go see the movie. You don't need to see me bumping and grinding in my kitchen. Unless you're desperate for comedy.)

And there is home, and Tracker and tea and bonding with the dogs.

And for those of you who hate Valentine's day, here's my obligatory statement: I agree that we shouldn't need a holiday to express our feelings to our loved ones. But since it exists, it's kind of fun to have a reason to shop for cute things.

Brief update

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I'm tired.
Left work at 6:30, went to look at a desk for Fuzzy, who still hasn't chosen one.
Watched Angel – interesting ending.
Took emergency asthma meds when Fuzzy pointed out that I was wheezing and complaining I was cold even though I was near the fire.
Followed a link where you can make Personalized Candy Hearts
Bed now.

Stuff

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1.) Cocola, the foofy bakery/cafe in Santana Row, has fabulous pastries (I'm quite taken with pain chocolat), but they make lousy espresso. Their mochas are too sweet, and the coffee is too week, and they used Reddi Whip insted of real whipped cream. Ugh.

2) Clinique Mascara doesn't give me raccoon eyes the way every other kind of mascara does. Yay.

3.) I'm in love with my new Aveda makeup stick/crayon/thing. It's like an eye pencil, only fatter, and once side's a natural pinkish-beigey-blush color, while the other is gold. It's safe for eyes /and/ lips, too, which means, that and blusher, and I'm set to travel, except that now I need to find a pencil sharpener big enough to fit it.

4.) I /love/ my new showerhead. It has all these nifty massage settings AND I can reach it to adjust things. This is good.

5.) My happy purple tulips are still mostly okay at the office, and my iris and daisy combination at home looks really amazing.

6.) New desk *buying* will happen Friday night. Next weekend: new computer.

7.) I'm listening to Bond's most recent cd, which I've had for months but never managed to open. Ironically, they've included the James Bond theme. I love their arrangement of it. But I still like their first cd better.

8.) It's raining. And I love rain. Rain is wonderful.

9.) Yes, I have overdosed on caffeine today. A chai, and iced tea, and a mocha. FEAR ME.

Lazy Sunday

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It was two pm before Fuzzy was out of bed and I bothered to change out of my pajamas, but we were hungry, and neither of us wanted to cook, so finally, there was motivation.

We went to Fridays, our usual choice when neither of us can make a decision about where to go. It's not that it's a great restaurant, hardly that, but there's always something each of us is willing to eat. And their iced tea never tastes canned.

Afterwards, we went out to spend gift certificates from Christmas. At Target, funded by Chris's sister, we bought rather mundane items: New shower curtain liners and a new shower curtain for my bathroom. The old liners, left here as a courtesy by the previous owners of the house, were white, and were getting beyond the point where scrubbing bubbles would help keep them clean, or I was willing to look at them. Ugh. So now I have clear ones. I couldn't find any actual shower curtains in the shower stall size. (My tub is a jacuzzi tub, and because the shower bar follows the curve of the tub, the extra length requires that we use two 59″ long curtains, instead of one 72″ curtain.), but the liners were the right size, and, I reasoned, an couple inches on either side isn't going to look horrible for now. So the outside curtain is a translucent rice-paper white, sheer enough that light from the window filters through, but opaque enough that it offers privacy. I mean, you know, married-people privacy, which is different from single-people privacy.

The pale color is a switch for me. We'd had suns and moons in our condo, keeping a running theme with said pattern from bedroom to bathroom to office. Now, though, the blue carpet I picked is just a little off from the sun and moon stuff, and the windows don't lend themselves to such bold prints, and I'm in the mood for soft pastels in aquatic colors – pale blue, sea foam, lavender – NO PINK. I did buy a new sun and moon curtain yesterday, but I'm sending it to my mother, because she saw my old one, and wanted one, and couldn't find one in La Paz.

Our other stop was Home Depot, for another gift card purchase, this time a new shower head. I'm five feet tall. The shower in my bathroom was designed, apparently, for a basketball player, because even on a stool I could barely reach it to change the angle. And it was old, and icky. Now, though, I have a wonderful massaging showerhead with a gazillion settings (or seven), and we put in a swivelling extender on the pipe that the hose screws into, so that I can reach things, but it can be raised should anyone of basketball player stature ever need to use my bathroom. Not that this is likely, but Fuzzy insisted, and since he was the one who was going to be installing the damned thing, I let him win that battle.

He also won the battle with the various screws and pipes, and I now have a working spiffy showerhead behind my brand new shower curtains. Thanks, Fuzzy!

We stopped for coffee on the way home. I've found that I get grumpy on the weekends, and have realized that it's because during the week, my daily ritual involves some kind of uber-caffeinated beverage around ten AM, and while I claim that I'm not addicted /really/, I'm hooked enough that when I don't have coffee on weekends, I get snappy and grumpy and bitchy. And Fuzzy doesn't deserve that.

So: Fuzzy's Productive Things for the weekend, despite our lounging in bed and indulging in afternoon cuddling, were the lawn and the shower head installation. And mine were the much more pedestrian dishes and laundry. Zorro doesn't have to be productive – he's just cute – but Cleo has a new mission. She's learning to hunt mice. I was looking for something in the garage last night, you see, and one jumped at me. I'm embarrassed to admit that I screamed, but it was NOT because I'm afraid of rodents – I'm not – it was because I wasn't expecting anything grayish brown and furry to jump out of a box.

In any case, it's nearly eight, and I need to get ready for another assistantless day at work. *sigh* Only a month, and I'm dependent on having him around. I'm hopeless.

Read this book!

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If you haven't already, go out *right now* and pick up a copy of Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I read it yesterday. Well, I read the first 40 pages of it on Friday evening, and then I read the rest of it Saturday night in the bathroom, and finished it yesterday morning, but that's not really the point.

The point is: this is a great book.

While many of the events it describes are far from gentle, the overall tone is one of gentility. It's a calm book, the kind you read while sipping tea. It would be a good bath book, I think, as well.

It's presented as if it were not a novel, but the actual first-person account of a woman, Sayuri, who was a geisha in the '30's and 40's. It's about love and loss and destiny.

And it's got the period backdrop that makes it feel like an old movie.

What shocked me, though, after I read it, was not that it was fiction, because, after all, I knew that going in, but that a man – a straight man – could write a woman's POV with such quiet sensitivity. And it's just that feeling that made this book so haunting.

So…read this book.
(ISBN #0-679-78158-7)

*Edited to note that yes, there is some controversy about this story. It's presented as fiction, but the person the lead character is based on says that it's really her life story, and her own people are pretty pissed. Whether that's true, or it's just a ploy for media attention, the fact remains it's a great read. And isn't that what really matters?