Archive for July, 2007

  • I feel like I’m eating a snowman.
  • I watched the cycling tonight. That’s why I kept falling asleep.
  • We have a love-hate relationship. I love her, she hates me.
  • I’ve still got to do George Street.
  • Who’s the kindergarten teacher now?
  • We gotta get outta here.  Dad’s gotta go to court tomorrow.

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Someone this morning referred to this blog as “banal”, and today I’d have problems disagreeing. Because, really, while I’m on semication at my parents’, this blog has become a plodding recapping of the lint in my bellybutton. Whee!

So, this post is kind of the same but kind of different. I got tagged by one of the Meats for a meme, and that means that at least I have something to write about that ISN’T Harry Potter or my whacky family.

So–for the rules of the meme:

Anyway, here are the rules:

1. Let others know who tagged you.

2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.

3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.

4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.


  1. I think pennies are disgusting.   They are the only copper money and so that means they smell like blood and always look like the rusty underbottom of an old car.  Ewww.  I hate pennies.
  2. I would travel back in time to marry Alexander Hamilton.  If, of course, time travel were possible.
  3. Peaches remind me of butts (on the outside) and tumours (on the inside).  For this reason I cannot eat peaches.  And, oh yeah, they taste gross.
  4. If I had to pick one thing to change about myself I’d ask for longer toes.
  5. I once saw Andrew Lloyd Weber’s lesser-known brother Julian walking in the Barbican Centre.
  6. When I was 15 I tried to change my name to Francesca.
  7. I still dream in fluent Spanish on occasion, even though I can no longer speak it.
  8. I’ve read Johanna Spyri’s Heidi 132 times.

Whom should I tag?  I think most of the people I know have already been tagged for this bad boy.  If you haven’t been tagged and want to join in, have at it.

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I’ve just deleted a post.  I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.

I deleted it because I decided it wasn’t necessarily appropriate for this space.   I’m not sure how I feel about that.   I like being able to say what I think.   That’s why I have this blog.  Yet I try to be considerate of those who read what I think.   And I’m betting more than a few readers would have been upset with that post…and more than a few of them would have–incorrectly–assumed I was writing about them.

So I took it down.

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This has been a weird week so far, and I’m getting very introspective, reflective, contemplative and, in short, navel-gazing.

I’m at my parents’ house without my husband, so in some ways it’s as though I’ve traveled back 20 years in time.  In other ways, it’s not.   I’m acutely aware of how much older I am now, and how much my life circumstances have changed.

When I was a kid I used to wonder about my future.  What would I be when I grew up?  Would I be married?  Have enough money?   I never saw myself leaving Indiana, and certainly never thought about living in Tennessee.   It’s odd to be here…it’s sort of like I’ve come back from the future.

This is a really weird post, isn’t it?  I suppose that’s because I’m doing more freewriting, and not really structuring my thoughts well.   It’s an overwhelming week, and in a way I feel like I’m sitting here at the end of all things.

I need to come up with something funny to say.   Since I can’t, I’ll just give you a photo of my niece, Sophie.0716071117.jpg

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No spoilers.

I promise that I’ve seen the last page of the book.  It’s real.  I won’t say another word about it, because if I do those of you who know me will be able to guess where it goes.

But I’ve seen it.  I got my way–like a kicking and screaming baby.

I’d post it here, but that’s very much against JKR’s wishes.   I suppose reading the last page ahead of the release date was also against her wishes, but frankly it’s in no way going to keep me from buying the book on Friday.   And I had wished for her to release the book on the 7th.  So there’s that.

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What I’ve Done Today

Combed the internet for Harry Potter spoilers.  I have read some of the worst-written fanfic in the world, all of which purports to be “leaked copies of the last book”.

Yes, I want to be spoiled.

I love spoilers.   I love the security of reading the book knowing ahead of time that x, y, and z will or won’t die.

For crying out loud, I’ve read each of the books at least five times apiece.   I clearly do not have a problem with ‘knowing what happens’ and having that knowledge ruin the experience for me.  I really would prefer to go into this last book cosseted with the knowledge of the various deaths ahead of time.

I can understand why most people don’t care to be spoiled, and that’s fine.   But me?  I would  love to be spoiled.  And my trusty interweb is letting me down.

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  • I  get my place and stuff back
  • Aunt Kathy is laughing hysterically because ‘stool’ is another word for poop.
  • I feel better when he gets in trouble.
  • If you died today,  we could save money on your tombstone because they’d only have to carve July 14th once,
  • I think ding-dong is fine.
  • Do you think running on grandma’s good coffee table is the best idea you’ve had today?
  • The first meat is bad.
  • I’m gonna leave my puzzle on the couch so the baby can do it.
  • Hey, B—, say something funny.

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I rode 7 hours in a car with my sister to get here. She was born on July 14th, and so was my dog. I feel bad for missing my dog’s birthday, but I don’t really imagine he’ll notice. As long as someone (hint hint, husband) gets him a can of moist dogfood to celebrate his turning eight, he’ll be happy as a clam.

My sister, on the other hand, is providing a cake that I WILL enjoy–seeing as I’m not personally wild about canned dog food–and we’ll also go swimming and have the kinds of family times the people at Hallmark dream about. Hopefully those won’t be punctuated too often by the kind of family times the people at rehab centers count on to earn a living.

The rest of this week will be all about swimming, going to the Three Rivers Festival, preparing for our Giant Family Reunion and going to Harry Potter parties. (Just to clarify, the size of the reunion is large. We are not a family of giants. Nor are we a family NAMED “Giant”.)

I’ve been unusually stressed–so much so to the point that I’ve been calling Ivy and using swear words over the phone in such a way as to make Ivy believe she’s receiving collect calls from a stevedore. Hopefully swimming in a pool and eating cake and working in front of a different computer will remedy some of that.

I’m torn about this, because I’ve left Husband at home to guard our children, our possessions and our livelihoods. I miss the husband and children and about 2/3rds of our possessions. (I really am getting sick of that couch in the basement.) But the time away should be good.

I had a great drive up with my sister. We stopped in Pendleton, Indiana for gas and I bought us Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Bars. I remarked that it was like Fat Thelma & Louise, where we went on a healing road trip but ate ice cream bars instead of shooting people. I’m thinking of changing my name to Fat Thelma. Attractive, no? But seriously, it reminded me of just exactly WHY I hate that movie so much. Women don’t need to shoot people and blow up semi trucks and sleep with Brad Pitt to have a good time. (I’m not a big Brad Pitt fan.)

I woke up about an hour ago, completely unable to sleep, and decided that I would write. Which is why there is this rambling nonsensical blog entry here. Unfortunately, I’m no less awake than when I started typing. Oh well.

I would go sit in the pool, but it’s 56 degrees outside. Fifty-six. And they wonder why I left Indiana.

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Over at MCB, we’re having a chat about buying clothes from thrift stores.

I was a property master for a couple of plays back in high school, and thus got introduced to buying things from secondhand stores. You never knew what treasure you’d find in the dimly lit rows of the Ft.Wayne Salvation Army. Books, records, vintage clothes–it’s all there. Almost.

See, it’s next to impossible to find good plus-size clothes at most secondhand shops. Jackson Miller, who runs the Cool Springs Plato’s Closet, admits that their store

mostly sell[s] brands that are available in the mall. Since many of those brands do not include plus sizes we would have a hard time buying clothes bigger than that.

Sigh. This would be part of why I have no fashion sense. There just aren’t fashion options for big girls. Either in the mall or outside it. Sure, we’ve got Lane Bryant, which is fine if you’re getting ready to go on the Ricky Lake Show, or to prove that fat girls can turn tricks down on Division with the best of them. But there just really aren’t clothes easily obtained for those of us who make up 40% of the female population.

In fact, I was watching The Devil Wears Prada a couple of days ago, and about threw my root beer at the tv. (Thankfully I realised that all that would do would mess up my tv and my carpet, leaving Meryl Streep untouched.) Meryl talks about how fashion is living art and it’s not good to have contempt for the fashion industry because they decide everything, including what colour of blue your frumpy sweater will be two years from now.

Well, Fashion Industry, I do have contempt for you, only because you have contempt for me. So much so that I can’t even buy second hand clothes. Fat clothes are so hard to come by, that they’re hard to come buy.

Somebody ought to change that.

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Yes, there are spoilers for the movie.  Because I’m “Liveblogging” . The review is after the jump.


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