When she is under the weather,
a sultry temptress emerges
That deep, raspy, masculine voice
like a grandmother who smokes 3 packs a day
sends shivers down any man's spine
And her lips
chapped and swollen from frequent encounters with a box of Kleenex
could you ever desire a more succulent pair of kissable rose petals?
Her face
as white as kindergarten paste
speckled with the crimson of fever
and the blood vessels that surface
after repeated coughing fits
reminds me of a fresh blanket of snow
covered by tiny red cardinals
picking away for their dinner
The lackluster of her eyes
blue tides washed away
in sleepless nights
and drowning in an overdose of Nyquil
They stare vacantly
and she's naked and open as a clean blackboard
Her sweet aroma
stimulates every sense
the stinging of the metholatum
the pinch of eucalyptis
the fire of Robutussin
burns between us as we speak
She moves gracefully
like an old gray mare
too tired to fight her imprisionment any longer
slowly
very slowly
she glides
on a pillow of antihistamine
from work to lunch to work to home to her couch and her bed and her pillow
She's a vision in the slumber of illness
her ruby lips parted
the consistent drone of congested breath
like a songbird on a busy spring morning
She splays herself fully on her resting spot
throws caution to the wind
and lets the cats lie where they may
Magnet of animal attraction
the sensual princess of head colds sleeps
28.12.04
The Unanticipated, Highly Biased & Entirely Unofficial Best of … 2004
Lately, I have actually had the time to sit down and read the last couple of week’s worth of Star Tribune, Rake, New York Times, Onion, City Pages, and just about any other free or left-behind publication that I can get my nothing-beats-free hands on. While catching up on my culture, international geopolitics, and foibles of that madcap Dilbert, it has become apparent that anyone with a computer and propensity to enjoy viewing their own indiscriminate ramblings in print can, indeed, publish a Best of … list.
That being said, and with the caveat that I am completely biased and limited to my simple experiences as a longtime urban Minnesota resident, enjoy. I have unabashedly decided what can be labeled “Cream of the Crop” over the last 12 months (and what a random way to rank the stuff I love, anyway.)
Happy reading, or wiping the gum off your shoe, or whatever you choose to do with these, the best things to come out of 2004 (in my incredibly humble opinion):
Music
2004, while perhaps not a banner year for the music industry, was indeed a banner year for my CD collection. With the advent of a CD player making is re-debut in my home last January, and a systematic organization of CDs following quick on its heels, I realized (a bit painfully) that I hadn’t done my due diligence in musical purchases, since, oh… April of 1997. The lack of music from this decade not only catapulted me into a purchasing frenzy, it also lit the fuse that ignited a year of sgh re-definition.
But enough about my quarter-life crisis. I plunged headlong into a scavenger hunt to define into what my tastes had now evolved. Thank God for a halfway decent alternative radio station, for Dave’s willingness to rip CD after CD after CD, for Sara Camerer’s moderating influence, and for the Killers.
After first hearing “Somebody Told Me” and questioning my ability to drive AND dance simultaneously, I realized that this song had to be at my house. And, it wasn’t at all what I thought I liked.
The entire CD is one big, guitar-laden, sparkling lyric that speaks to what 2004 meant to me. Hot Fuss belongs in everyone’s collection; if you don’t have it, ask me and I’d happily oblige to get your very own copy.
Way to spend half your paycheck
While I’ve known about IKEA for a few years now (Thanks, Barbara!), summer of 2004 offered a special chance for celebration: the Twin Cities very own IKEA. Really, it’s nice to have the Swedish Mecca just down the road (as opposed to making my Chicagoan friends or acquaintances who mention passing through Schaumberg stop and pick up my latest list of wishful thinking…).
And, while I would not find it at all hard to blow a week’s salary on jars, ergonomic chairs and redecorating Paige’s bedroom in a Swedish hedgehog motif, it would take some effort. I heart IKEA. It is the definitive best way to drop a wad of cash (or max out the MasterCard, take your pick.)
Bad thing that turned out to be good
I cannot decide which bad turned good is better, so I am nominating two as a tie:
To be honest, I had to resist the temptation to nominate John’s employment situation through most of this year. However, that TECHNICALLY started in late 2003, so that scenario was quickly DQ-ed. However, there was no drought of bad news this year. My friend Di started out the year with a divorce. Good times. And, although we’ll always have the memories of le divorce, it’s (yee haw) over now, and Di has actually grown by leaps and bounds this year (amazingly, so has our friendship.) Best of all, we learned together that the best way out is through (borrowed from Robert Frost).
Just in the middle of Di’s divorce drama, Sara Camerer got some gross news of her own: Target Corporation was selling Mervyn’s, and closing the Twin Cities stores. At the end of July, she would be out of a job. This was a big cloud with an even bigger silver lining. Sara ended up contracting with yours truly most of the latter half of the year, and 2005 has promise for more big money, be-your-own-boss fun.
Culinary experience
Now, at the risk of sounding my own horn, I am voting Friends Thanksgiving 2004 best culinary experience of the year (remember, I’m inherently biased…)
Not only is my husband one helluva cook, he is also an amazing host and partner. I love making huge meals with him. I love when 20 people come to eat. I love when we can all drink too much, laugh until it hurts, and whine about the next morning’s Haggerty Hangover.
Hands down: Haggerty dinner parties rule. I resolve to have more of them in 2005.
Movie
Painfully, I haven’t been to the movie theater since before Paige was born. Hence, the best movies I’ve seen this year haven’t been on the silver screen.
What has resurrected any interest in movies is the delightfully simple Netflix service. So, I’ve managed to catch up on my movie rentals and FINALLY (yes, finally) get around to watching Trainspotting (which IS fantastic, after all).
(For those of you chortling, gimme a break, will ya? Finding a babysitter on a Friday night is almost as gross as finding the center stone of your engagement ring in the Diaper Genie.)
Simple Pastime
For some reason, 2004 was the year that I picked up all kinds of bad crafting habits. I began scrap booking the life and times of Paige. I taught myself how to knit and made some significant crocheting projects. I even learned how to bead stuff. But my biggest craftorial accomplishment of 2004 was not only learning how to quilt, but making 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Six quilts in one year (including a MASSIVE king-sized purple quilt for my sister’s wedding gift).
Although old-fashioned and normally associated with 70-year-old women, (along with most of my other simple pastimes), Quilting is relaxing and gives me a chance to express creative and artistic energy in a physical end product. I’m real glad Sara got me addicted to this craft (bad influence that she is.) It’s the greatest pastime I’ve participated in this year.
Memorable Moment
Reflecting on the year, my whole life seems so memorable, and at the same time, so far away. It’s hard to pick just one thing that was memorable this year.
So, I’m just going with a memory I’ll tell my grandchildren about with pride:
It’s a hot night in July. I’m starving and thirsty after seeing my very first Man United game (although we lost on penalty kicks and it was more like a U-16 team getting beat up by mean, ugly German men). John parks the car “close” to the pub we are going to hang out at.
He parks on Grand. We need Grant. John doesn’t realize this.
We walk.
And walk.
And walk and walk and walk and walk.
And then, we walk some more.
And finally, after I’m about ready to pass out with exhaustion, heat, and thirst, we make it to Fado, the Irish pub we’re supposed to be at.
We get ushered in to a roped off third floor by the bouncer, and the room is full – FULL of hot, drunk, celebrating Man U fans. I squeeze into the bar, beg for two ciders, hand one off to Sara, and tank mine down like it’s the best, coolest, most purely refreshing drink of water you’ve ever seen. The hunger and dehydration combined with a pint of cider make for a quick buzz. But who cares. I’m singing and dancing with various Brits of all shapes and sizes. I’m shimmying with Jer the Irishman using a red boa. I’m tumbling down a downtown Chicago street into a dueling piano bar. I’m sitting in the bathroom at the piano bar, listening to the piano player talk about my… whhuut?
And again, I’m drinking, singing “She’s Got Breasts”, cavorting with Man U fans, and out the latest I’ve been since college, I’ve rediscovered my own identity and the fact that most 12-year-olds can drink me under the table with ease.
Non-memorable Moment
The story my grandchildren definitely don’t get to hear:
How Jimmy’s heels and Austin’s wicked mixed drinks can erase your memory and make Thanksgiving with Dad and Mum pure torture.
Addicting Habit
John’s been really, really into Man U for a couple of years now. He’s been watching games down at The Local for almost as long.
After the ambience of Chicago this July, I started going to the pub and watching with him, and was promptly hooked. I cannot imagine my weekends now without creamy hashbrowns, the stupid Fox Sports World intro music, and John Cosgrove shouting, “F___ing Wankers!”
Next to caffeine and chocolate, I confirmed another addiction this year: football. Thanks, boys.
Show of creative genius
Sara and I surprised ourselves when, amongst drunken stupor and generally girlish goofiness, a brilliant idea was born: take Dave Herman’s duck, take the duck’s photo in a variety of nonsense situations, and start a blog with a storyline to accompany the photos.
Little did we know that a) Dave would love it, b) it would drive Dave crazy, c) everyone Dave told about it would love it, and d) it would be the center of our existence for an entire month of the year.
We’ll continue Duck’s misadventures, even though Duck Original is back home with Dave. Check us out in the New Year: http://hermansduck.blog.com
Investment vehicle
It doesn’t take a financial genius to figure this one out: I’ve dumped a ton of my cash into the most precious investment available this year.
Her name is Paige, and every penny I spend provides dividends of 1000 times what I invest. I love you, baby girl.
Ol’ Reliable
While ordering office supplies this year, I was in need of pens. Remembering my high school English teacher’s fetish with Flair pens, I ordered 5. And have never been happier.
Want to feel like a million bucks when writing? Buy yourself one flair pen in each of purple, green, red, blue and black. And enjoy the smooth, bold lines of the pen (especially on quadrille paper… but that’s another ol’ reliable).
Big-Huge Life Event
Sweetly enough, both John and I were able to land decent gigs this year. I started my dream job (that’s right, it’s actually the job I’ve trained for and wanted all my professional years; how often does that actually happen…) in March.
John landed a contract gig with Wells Fargo in August, and they like him well enough to keep stringing him along. Perhaps a permanent placement in 2005? Time will tell – and in the meantime, we’re back to multiple W-2s for the 2004 tax year.
Read
Yah, yah, yah… so I still haven’t actually gotten around to reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (it’s on my to-do list, and in my defense, I’m writing this on December 28th…).
However, I discovered the joy and gut-wrenching laughter that is David Sedaris this year. Aside from his cunning wit and ability to write stories that make time spent in South Dakota enjoyable, I admire his brutal honesty, his random observations, and his ability to be candid about what makes an imperfect life, just right how it is.
Fruit of the year
The raspberry bush in the backyard is officially out of control. We were eating fresh raspberries well into October.
Overlooking the seeds in my teeth, I have no complaints.
Technological advance to adapt
Three fantastic technologies to laud this year:
The iPod. Store 4000 of your favorite songs for transportation anywhere, weighing, oh, as much as a fingernail. God bless the good people at Apple (and Bono and crew for partnering up on the special edition… atta boy!)
Blogs. Yah, they’re not new this year, I know. But now I have one (that’s grossly outdated thanks to that damn duck blog). But they are a great creative outlet and a way to keep in touch with friends (and get the occasional thumbs up on your otherwise private writing collection).
Sittercity.com. It’s eHarmony for parents and babysitters. And, it works.
Waste of time watching the tube
America’s Next Top Model. ‘Nuff said.
Coincidental delight
Oddly enough, I deduced that Sara Camerer’s former peer, Randy, is cousins with my longlost (or not so much now) friend from high school, Eric Sanford.
After an exchange of emails, I got to reconnect with Eric (on house arrest, saying “cookie” into the at-home breathalyzer). And so glad I did!
(Eric also made a surprise guest appearance at Dave’s birthday party, which I did not attend… Eric’s like the little smidgen of my past that pops up in the oddest of places. And that’s quite possibly the coolest thing he could ever be.)
Nugget of truth quoted this year
We do not live in a democratic society...we live under a quietly seething dictatorship. (alycia novotny)
Thing to anticipate going into 2005
U2 tour, St. Patrick’s Day, the basement getting finished, grandma and grandpa finally having a shower up at the lake, a trip to Ireland, more surprises, potty training, a few birthdays, friends new and old… and things that I’ll rank at the end of next year, the likes of which I could never even imagine now.
Happy New Year, Kids!
sgh
That being said, and with the caveat that I am completely biased and limited to my simple experiences as a longtime urban Minnesota resident, enjoy. I have unabashedly decided what can be labeled “Cream of the Crop” over the last 12 months (and what a random way to rank the stuff I love, anyway.)
Happy reading, or wiping the gum off your shoe, or whatever you choose to do with these, the best things to come out of 2004 (in my incredibly humble opinion):
Music
2004, while perhaps not a banner year for the music industry, was indeed a banner year for my CD collection. With the advent of a CD player making is re-debut in my home last January, and a systematic organization of CDs following quick on its heels, I realized (a bit painfully) that I hadn’t done my due diligence in musical purchases, since, oh… April of 1997. The lack of music from this decade not only catapulted me into a purchasing frenzy, it also lit the fuse that ignited a year of sgh re-definition.
But enough about my quarter-life crisis. I plunged headlong into a scavenger hunt to define into what my tastes had now evolved. Thank God for a halfway decent alternative radio station, for Dave’s willingness to rip CD after CD after CD, for Sara Camerer’s moderating influence, and for the Killers.
After first hearing “Somebody Told Me” and questioning my ability to drive AND dance simultaneously, I realized that this song had to be at my house. And, it wasn’t at all what I thought I liked.
The entire CD is one big, guitar-laden, sparkling lyric that speaks to what 2004 meant to me. Hot Fuss belongs in everyone’s collection; if you don’t have it, ask me and I’d happily oblige to get your very own copy.
Way to spend half your paycheck
While I’ve known about IKEA for a few years now (Thanks, Barbara!), summer of 2004 offered a special chance for celebration: the Twin Cities very own IKEA. Really, it’s nice to have the Swedish Mecca just down the road (as opposed to making my Chicagoan friends or acquaintances who mention passing through Schaumberg stop and pick up my latest list of wishful thinking…).
And, while I would not find it at all hard to blow a week’s salary on jars, ergonomic chairs and redecorating Paige’s bedroom in a Swedish hedgehog motif, it would take some effort. I heart IKEA. It is the definitive best way to drop a wad of cash (or max out the MasterCard, take your pick.)
Bad thing that turned out to be good
I cannot decide which bad turned good is better, so I am nominating two as a tie:
To be honest, I had to resist the temptation to nominate John’s employment situation through most of this year. However, that TECHNICALLY started in late 2003, so that scenario was quickly DQ-ed. However, there was no drought of bad news this year. My friend Di started out the year with a divorce. Good times. And, although we’ll always have the memories of le divorce, it’s (yee haw) over now, and Di has actually grown by leaps and bounds this year (amazingly, so has our friendship.) Best of all, we learned together that the best way out is through (borrowed from Robert Frost).
Just in the middle of Di’s divorce drama, Sara Camerer got some gross news of her own: Target Corporation was selling Mervyn’s, and closing the Twin Cities stores. At the end of July, she would be out of a job. This was a big cloud with an even bigger silver lining. Sara ended up contracting with yours truly most of the latter half of the year, and 2005 has promise for more big money, be-your-own-boss fun.
Culinary experience
Now, at the risk of sounding my own horn, I am voting Friends Thanksgiving 2004 best culinary experience of the year (remember, I’m inherently biased…)
Not only is my husband one helluva cook, he is also an amazing host and partner. I love making huge meals with him. I love when 20 people come to eat. I love when we can all drink too much, laugh until it hurts, and whine about the next morning’s Haggerty Hangover.
Hands down: Haggerty dinner parties rule. I resolve to have more of them in 2005.
Movie
Painfully, I haven’t been to the movie theater since before Paige was born. Hence, the best movies I’ve seen this year haven’t been on the silver screen.
What has resurrected any interest in movies is the delightfully simple Netflix service. So, I’ve managed to catch up on my movie rentals and FINALLY (yes, finally) get around to watching Trainspotting (which IS fantastic, after all).
(For those of you chortling, gimme a break, will ya? Finding a babysitter on a Friday night is almost as gross as finding the center stone of your engagement ring in the Diaper Genie.)
Simple Pastime
For some reason, 2004 was the year that I picked up all kinds of bad crafting habits. I began scrap booking the life and times of Paige. I taught myself how to knit and made some significant crocheting projects. I even learned how to bead stuff. But my biggest craftorial accomplishment of 2004 was not only learning how to quilt, but making 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Six quilts in one year (including a MASSIVE king-sized purple quilt for my sister’s wedding gift).
Although old-fashioned and normally associated with 70-year-old women, (along with most of my other simple pastimes), Quilting is relaxing and gives me a chance to express creative and artistic energy in a physical end product. I’m real glad Sara got me addicted to this craft (bad influence that she is.) It’s the greatest pastime I’ve participated in this year.
Memorable Moment
Reflecting on the year, my whole life seems so memorable, and at the same time, so far away. It’s hard to pick just one thing that was memorable this year.
So, I’m just going with a memory I’ll tell my grandchildren about with pride:
It’s a hot night in July. I’m starving and thirsty after seeing my very first Man United game (although we lost on penalty kicks and it was more like a U-16 team getting beat up by mean, ugly German men). John parks the car “close” to the pub we are going to hang out at.
He parks on Grand. We need Grant. John doesn’t realize this.
We walk.
And walk.
And walk and walk and walk and walk.
And then, we walk some more.
And finally, after I’m about ready to pass out with exhaustion, heat, and thirst, we make it to Fado, the Irish pub we’re supposed to be at.
We get ushered in to a roped off third floor by the bouncer, and the room is full – FULL of hot, drunk, celebrating Man U fans. I squeeze into the bar, beg for two ciders, hand one off to Sara, and tank mine down like it’s the best, coolest, most purely refreshing drink of water you’ve ever seen. The hunger and dehydration combined with a pint of cider make for a quick buzz. But who cares. I’m singing and dancing with various Brits of all shapes and sizes. I’m shimmying with Jer the Irishman using a red boa. I’m tumbling down a downtown Chicago street into a dueling piano bar. I’m sitting in the bathroom at the piano bar, listening to the piano player talk about my… whhuut?
And again, I’m drinking, singing “She’s Got Breasts”, cavorting with Man U fans, and out the latest I’ve been since college, I’ve rediscovered my own identity and the fact that most 12-year-olds can drink me under the table with ease.
Non-memorable Moment
The story my grandchildren definitely don’t get to hear:
How Jimmy’s heels and Austin’s wicked mixed drinks can erase your memory and make Thanksgiving with Dad and Mum pure torture.
Addicting Habit
John’s been really, really into Man U for a couple of years now. He’s been watching games down at The Local for almost as long.
After the ambience of Chicago this July, I started going to the pub and watching with him, and was promptly hooked. I cannot imagine my weekends now without creamy hashbrowns, the stupid Fox Sports World intro music, and John Cosgrove shouting, “F___ing Wankers!”
Next to caffeine and chocolate, I confirmed another addiction this year: football. Thanks, boys.
Show of creative genius
Sara and I surprised ourselves when, amongst drunken stupor and generally girlish goofiness, a brilliant idea was born: take Dave Herman’s duck, take the duck’s photo in a variety of nonsense situations, and start a blog with a storyline to accompany the photos.
Little did we know that a) Dave would love it, b) it would drive Dave crazy, c) everyone Dave told about it would love it, and d) it would be the center of our existence for an entire month of the year.
We’ll continue Duck’s misadventures, even though Duck Original is back home with Dave. Check us out in the New Year: http://hermansduck.blog.com
Investment vehicle
It doesn’t take a financial genius to figure this one out: I’ve dumped a ton of my cash into the most precious investment available this year.
Her name is Paige, and every penny I spend provides dividends of 1000 times what I invest. I love you, baby girl.
Ol’ Reliable
While ordering office supplies this year, I was in need of pens. Remembering my high school English teacher’s fetish with Flair pens, I ordered 5. And have never been happier.
Want to feel like a million bucks when writing? Buy yourself one flair pen in each of purple, green, red, blue and black. And enjoy the smooth, bold lines of the pen (especially on quadrille paper… but that’s another ol’ reliable).
Big-Huge Life Event
Sweetly enough, both John and I were able to land decent gigs this year. I started my dream job (that’s right, it’s actually the job I’ve trained for and wanted all my professional years; how often does that actually happen…) in March.
John landed a contract gig with Wells Fargo in August, and they like him well enough to keep stringing him along. Perhaps a permanent placement in 2005? Time will tell – and in the meantime, we’re back to multiple W-2s for the 2004 tax year.
Read
Yah, yah, yah… so I still haven’t actually gotten around to reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (it’s on my to-do list, and in my defense, I’m writing this on December 28th…).
However, I discovered the joy and gut-wrenching laughter that is David Sedaris this year. Aside from his cunning wit and ability to write stories that make time spent in South Dakota enjoyable, I admire his brutal honesty, his random observations, and his ability to be candid about what makes an imperfect life, just right how it is.
Fruit of the year
The raspberry bush in the backyard is officially out of control. We were eating fresh raspberries well into October.
Overlooking the seeds in my teeth, I have no complaints.
Technological advance to adapt
Three fantastic technologies to laud this year:
The iPod. Store 4000 of your favorite songs for transportation anywhere, weighing, oh, as much as a fingernail. God bless the good people at Apple (and Bono and crew for partnering up on the special edition… atta boy!)
Blogs. Yah, they’re not new this year, I know. But now I have one (that’s grossly outdated thanks to that damn duck blog). But they are a great creative outlet and a way to keep in touch with friends (and get the occasional thumbs up on your otherwise private writing collection).
Sittercity.com. It’s eHarmony for parents and babysitters. And, it works.
Waste of time watching the tube
America’s Next Top Model. ‘Nuff said.
Coincidental delight
Oddly enough, I deduced that Sara Camerer’s former peer, Randy, is cousins with my longlost (or not so much now) friend from high school, Eric Sanford.
After an exchange of emails, I got to reconnect with Eric (on house arrest, saying “cookie” into the at-home breathalyzer). And so glad I did!
(Eric also made a surprise guest appearance at Dave’s birthday party, which I did not attend… Eric’s like the little smidgen of my past that pops up in the oddest of places. And that’s quite possibly the coolest thing he could ever be.)
Nugget of truth quoted this year
We do not live in a democratic society...we live under a quietly seething dictatorship. (alycia novotny)
Thing to anticipate going into 2005
U2 tour, St. Patrick’s Day, the basement getting finished, grandma and grandpa finally having a shower up at the lake, a trip to Ireland, more surprises, potty training, a few birthdays, friends new and old… and things that I’ll rank at the end of next year, the likes of which I could never even imagine now.
Happy New Year, Kids!
sgh
14.12.04
the reason why annual reviews drive me to the bottle
Decidedly, those who call ourselves writers are a weird bunch.
I sit here, angsting over whether or not I have “met expectations†over the last 9 months. Expectations outlined by me, by others, by the business world.
The expectation that I really want to meet doesn’t pay the mortgage. It doesn’t whittle away the balance of my student loans, many of which paid for classes that were enlightening but not necessarily applicable to writing assessment questions at a 5th grade level for a group of adults who just learned how to negotiate higher payments from the man who is unemployed, divorced and about to go bleed out in the bathtub.
Weird, that I get paid to do something I love, and something that I don’t understand.
And, weird that what I find pure and good and beautiful and infinitely complex and profound can also be twisted into something perverse and mundane and simple, something that can be objectified by an Access Database and four measly key result areas.
I am the artist who revels in creative genius and doubts my own in predictably regular intervals. I am the designer who recoils at the mention of effective project management and strives whole-heartedly to achieve it.
I write succinct, profound, elegant prose. I write instructions on how to key a memo into a DOS-based computer system.
I get up at 3 in the morning to write lyrics to songs and scribble in eighth notes on blank lined music sheets. I get up again at 6:30 to put on mascara and respectable khakis and sell my soul for medical and dental coverage.
I find aesthetic pleasure in the unlimited potential of an unmarred spiral notebook. I find myself at a loss to reconcile myself to the tower of Post-it notes and cube wall-papered in Excel spreadsheets it sit in 40 hours each week.
Where does art and reality intersect? Am I just questioning my existence, my place in the corporate world and my fit in the realm of lasting art? When will the writer and the breadwinner reconcile?
30.11.04
Sweet November
Normally, she didn't consider November a good month.
After all, November tends to be damp. Gray. Dark. Cold. Did she mention damp?
However, this particular November was different, somehow.
First off, it wasn't nearly as cold as it could potentially have been. And, given that she could live with incessant drizzle, it was warm. There was no snow on the ground. In fact, the grass still clung fiercely to some vestiges of green, almost as if defying mother nature. Winter? Bring it on! We'll fight it.
And in that aspect, at least, she and the grass were one. Fighting the change of seasons, the warm to cool, as the languishing summer sun and breath of sweet thunderstorms wafting into the open window were chased away by the gusty interruption of fall and insipid creep of chill and frost and damp.
Strong little sprouts, standing proud and stubborn in the face of inevitable change.
November was amazing. There was abundance, for once. There was laughter ringing through the walls of the house, most days. Nothing was more warming during this year's late fall than the reverberation of a little girl's uninhibited giggle, the throaty laughter of girlfriends enjoying a Pinot Grigio, the muffled chuckles of early morning and late evening underneath flannel sheets.
More than that, the little cream stucco house was always light. The neighbors sat in their kitchens, looking toward it, saying, why dear, there's another party next door. They are always entertaining! Really, we should have them over for dinner some night.
Late into most evenings, the little house glowed orange with laughter and warmth and the light of candles. The dogs barked happily, chasing their tails, chasing scraps of dinner. When the back door opened, puffs of apple and cinnamon, clouds of pumpkin, vanilla, chocolate, sugar, garlic, all popped out the door, making the dog-walkers quicken pace to get home for dinner. Coffee brewed at precisely 5:48 every morning, rousing the sleepy occupants.
Yes, November was unequivocally not shabby this year.
Late November, a sweet evening full of sunset and unseasonable warmth, found her standing on the back porch, cooling a pumpkin pie, shooing an insistent hound, fanning the warmth of standing next to the oven away. It was irresistible delicious to stand outdoors barefoot in November, allowing her toes to take a bittersweet walk along cool concrete and outdoor carpet. She knew that she'd have to change soon, slip out of the pants and T-shirt that bore the battle wounds of the day in the kitchen. Guests would be here soon.
With candles lit and acoustic guitar strumming mellowly along, she dashed up the stairs to put the final touches on the afternoon.
Meanwhile, friends started trickling into the little cream stucco house. Greeted by candlelight, chilled Chardonnay, subtle strains from the stereo and a wave of cinnamon, cloves, and butter from the kitchen.
They cooked and prepared and snacked and introduced and greeted.
Laughed at stories old and new.
Descending the stairs and venturing to the kitchen, she wondered at the delight dancing in her husband's eyes.
As the turkey was carved, she marvelled at the infectious laugh of the woman at the next table.
She stifled a giggle at a priceless joke and dabbed at a tear from laughing as she dashed for the whipped cream and pies.
There was abundance of abundance, as guests ate their fill, and drank in good company as the sweetest apéritif.
As sunlight waned outside, conversation and camaraderie swelled indoors.
Voices rang like church bells in the distance, reminiscent and distinct, giving thanks for light and dark and passing and yet to be. Together, the thanksgiving crescendos to a chorus of blessings, an aria of abundance, a symphony of sweet time passing and being and yet to come.
As the orange halo of the day's sun bobbed and teased and finally ducked under the naked skeletons of oaks and maples, she had a chance to step back and look around.
She observed the warmth of it all and smiled.
A circle of friendship makes the sweetest choir.
From now on, it would be called Sweet November.
25.11.04
Requiem for a cocktail
Today, we gather to remember the cocktail.
She had a short life. Brevity, however, did not steal her desire to make fate play by the rules.
Her life started far away, as a tiny seed, solitary and serene, basking in warm rain showers and glimpses of sun.
Plucked from the vine at just the right time, she was whisked away to a destiny yet to be announced to her.
In a cavernous distillery, full of metal and steam and heat and machine, she arrived only to be created into something else.
She sat quiet with her brethren, looking on, almost completely inaudible except for the occasional resettling.
Then her day came. She could not explain what happened, really, but it was as if her essence were being changed, as if she was being manipulated over time into something that she was originally not.
After suns and moons had travelled many times over, what was left of her - the excellent, the good, the essence of the tiny pure seed she had started to be - was bottled, labeled, sealed, stamped, boxed, and shipped.
She arrived in yet another strange land, this time looking through thick glass at the world around her She was ripped from her carton and flung on a metal shelf painted white An old woman with a thickly creased face put a small marking on her glass, which inconveniently blocked the view of a row of beautiful blue bottles filled with pinot grigio.
She was taken home by a stranger in short order. He jostled her about, put her in a paper bag and tossed her in the trunk of a car that smelt of spare-tire rubber and sand.
Getting used to sitting for long periods of time staring at darkness was nothing new, after the distillery experience. So she was just a bit surprised when not too many days later, she was snatched from the trunk and heartily shoved into the hands of another stranger. That wasn't all so uncomfortable, as she was beginning to find contentedness in the company of strangers. What was uncomfortable was the leers, the hands, the passing around, the fondling of her beautiful gold-edged label and red metal seal.
Rather suddenly, her world turned upside down once again. As her new home was torn apart, she first panicked, and then realized that she was meant to leave the glass prison. She breathed a sigh of relief, and the sweet aroma from her lips brought a cheer from the mates looking at her from the outside in.
She was falling then, splashing amongst cold mountains of ice, crashing against smooth sides of glass, mingling and dancing with others just like her.
Finally free, finally ready to go home, she became one with her final place in life.
As ruby lips sparkling with anticipation and desire met her cool, moist touch, she knew she had finally met her destiny.
23.11.04
Unabashed Review: How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
I have been waiting for this CD for, well, a couple of years now. After redeeming themselves with All That You Can't Leave Behind, I think that I am finally able to forgive Bono and crew for the indiscretions of the late 90s with Zooropa and Pop. Thank God that we're getting back to what my Irish boys do best - edgy, guitar-laden love songs.
After previewing a copy over the weekend, the CD release party last night, and a few of my usual drives, I've had a chance to listen to and think about it all. Here is my unsolicited, completely subjective, and inherently biased review.
Overall:
The CD's first track and single, Vertigo, is a bit misleading as to the contents of the rest of the disc. I find the foursome's latest work to be a pretty decent mix of Edge-branded guitar riffs (and God Bless Him for that...), the vocals that I have come to love and expect from my imaginary lover Bono, and even on the slow songs, outstanding bass and drums that sorta make you just want to listen to it all day long because, whether or not you like it, the songs are addictive, stuck in your brain, and once again, Bono, Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. have found the magic recipe to reinventing themselves while keeping enough identity from War to now to say, hey, that's U2, but's its just edgy enough that I really should buy it and listen to it until I wear it out.
Ranked against other CDs out there on the current adult/alternative music scene, I'm giving this a 4 1/2 of 5 stars. Certainly one of the best I've added to my collection as of late, although my one complaint is that it's a little heavy on the slow song side.
Ranked against other major U2 album releases:
- Joshua Tree
- Rattle & Hum
- All That You Can't Leave Behind
- Achtung Baby
- How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
- Boy
- October
- Unforgettable Fire
- War
- Zooropa
- POP
(putting this perspective, I give Joshua Tree a 5 1/2 of 5 stars, it's such a masterpiece that it can't even really be ranked, and Pop a 3 1/2 of 5... so there are no losers on this list.)
Track Review--
1:Vertigo--We have all hear this one on the radio for, oh a good two months now. It's poppy, catchy, and makes me want to buy an iPod worse than anything. But it's hands-down the most upbeat song on the release. It's a good display of each of these gent's talents. A good first single. I can't wait until they stop playing it on the radio so much so that I can get back to enjoying it in my own special way. 5 of 5
2:Miracle Drug--Reminiscent of something you'd have caught on the B-side of Joshua Tree... drool. Although this may not be a popular favorite, I find nothing better than a good Bono slow song (a la All I Want Is You.) Sigh. Good times. 4 of 5
3:Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own--Another slow. This track, reflective and personal, drills to the soul of any relationship that's been around for a while. It's singalong in the car good. Insert your own rock-starness here. 4.5 of 5
4:Love And Peace Or Else--2 Words: GOD YES. Why this song makes me want to start a revolution, we'll never know. But it gets to the hippie born 2 decades to late that lives inside of me. the bass guitar is amazing. The righteous anger in this song comes through loud and clear. A throwback to the early years -- you could just as easily have found this track on Boy. Which is why it is my 2nd fave on the disc. 5 of 5
5:City Of Blinding Lights --The song starts of with a "where the streets have no name" riff (thank you Edge, for making my life a happier place to be), and the song doesn't stop from there. I love when U2 mixes their stuff up. The piano in this song literally stopped me where I stood. If Bono sang this song to me, I'd probably melt into a puddle. Good stuff. 5 of 5
6:All Because of You--I dedicate this song to John Haggerty. Though it's not a musical masterpiece, it's good. And the lyrics are amazingly powerful to anyone who found love in a desolate small-town hole and lived to tell about it. How does this band know how to write songs that reflect my life experiences? I'm half a world away. Apparently, that's part of their appeal. 4 of 5
7:A Man And A Woman--This song lacks the guitar brilliance of the rest of the CD. Then, there's those ridiculous falsettos that sometimes work, and sometimes, not so much. Not a favorite, but not the worst song the group's ever recorded. 3 of 5
8:Crumbs From Your Table--It's so interesting that each of these tracks remind me of a past CD. The first time I heard this song, I really thought that I had originally heard it on Achtung Baby. However, it's new, but a terrific throwback to that great album that I first wore out on tape, and then on CD. 4.5 of 5
9:One Step Closer--Slow and driving, this song embraces all that has been good about the last 25 years of U2. It also incorporates some of the better lessons that the foursome has learned over two decades. Not sure why this isn't the signature song on the disc, but hands down, it's the best. Music and lyrics can't be beat. 5 of 5
10:Original Of The Species--Well, after track 9, nothing is really going to sound as amazing. Some decent guitar, some traditional Bono vocals. I imagine I'll eventually be hearing this on Cities 97. 3.5 of 5
11:YAHWEH--This is an exceptional vocal song for Bono. Obviously, he wrote the lyrics, which are amazing. He's such a poet. And he can sing, which he again demonstrates on this song. Edge gets in on the action with a piece of the lyrics and the 6-string stylings he does oh, so well. Meaningful, beautiful. A good exclamation point on a solid release. 4 of 5
21.11.04
the Shaggerty Social Calendar
Yah, I'm a real debutante...
However, here are the fun plans I have. Am always open for new adventures with new faces... so if you haven't already been invited, this is your official standing invite to come hang out.
November 21: Friends Thanksgiving III - my house. afternoonish.
November 22: U2 "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" CD release party, The Local downtown. 10ish, until I can no longer stay up (hey, it's one AM now and I'm still kicking...)
November 24: Semi-formal (whoo hoo!) cocktail party, Dave's place. Can't wait to have an excuse to get all gussied up. :)
November 29: Book Club, discussing Confessions of Ugly Stepsister, 7:30 ish. The barnum/camerer abode.
December 9: Boogie Wonderland at Fine Line, 8 PM. Girls night (although it's a public place, and I can't stop any male-folk who are into disco from crashing our fun...)
Sometime in December: the gang goes to the Shout House some friday or saturday night. Dueling piano bar. The first time we went (Chicago, after the United match) was just about the most fun I could have with hard liquor and two pianos.
Some other time in December: Friends Christmas (chez Barnum-Camerer, I believe)
To be determined: New Year's Eve. I'm hoping for another chance to get a babysitter, dress up and drink too much. Anyone else have any thoughts?
A bit further in the future: January 19th! It's my birthday! It's a monthlong celebration (in my own head) of Sarah-ness! Possibilities for a celebration of the grandest sorts (I'll be officially in my late 20s, after all...) include:
However, here are the fun plans I have. Am always open for new adventures with new faces... so if you haven't already been invited, this is your official standing invite to come hang out.
November 21: Friends Thanksgiving III - my house. afternoonish.
November 22: U2 "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" CD release party, The Local downtown. 10ish, until I can no longer stay up (hey, it's one AM now and I'm still kicking...)
November 24: Semi-formal (whoo hoo!) cocktail party, Dave's place. Can't wait to have an excuse to get all gussied up. :)
November 29: Book Club, discussing Confessions of Ugly Stepsister, 7:30 ish. The barnum/camerer abode.
December 9: Boogie Wonderland at Fine Line, 8 PM. Girls night (although it's a public place, and I can't stop any male-folk who are into disco from crashing our fun...)
Sometime in December: the gang goes to the Shout House some friday or saturday night. Dueling piano bar. The first time we went (Chicago, after the United match) was just about the most fun I could have with hard liquor and two pianos.
Some other time in December: Friends Christmas (chez Barnum-Camerer, I believe)
To be determined: New Year's Eve. I'm hoping for another chance to get a babysitter, dress up and drink too much. Anyone else have any thoughts?
A bit further in the future: January 19th! It's my birthday! It's a monthlong celebration (in my own head) of Sarah-ness! Possibilities for a celebration of the grandest sorts (I'll be officially in my late 20s, after all...) include:
- renting the luxury Elysion cabin, bringing all who long for hot tubs, big screen tvs, and a weekend full of play,
- Having a private party at Kieran's or the Local,
- Another crazy evening of barhopping (especially if we do a kareoke night??),
- Cake and Amaretto sours on the couch. (this one's not my fave, to be honest. But's it's always on the list.)
If you have an opinion (and you know you do), then post and let me know about it. T minus 2 months to my birthday! whee!
(and yes, I do still plan to be this excited about my birthday when that first digit moves from 2 to 3, and from 3 to 4. I survived another one! It's reason as any for a party!)
20.11.04
takers?
A Saturday afternoon in November.
Like most good and responsible adults, I am cleaning, listening to my favorite band (thanks Dave, you rule), and aspiring toward a clean bedroom and no laundry on the floor.
And, like the nutter I am, also ponder life, death, and love while I work.
I am recently aware that my gift of creativity is squelched on several different levels: I work for someone else. Hence, my creative assets are roped in by another's boundaries.
I live with a way-too-conservative for even me, who needs 8 hours of sleep and structure. This is the hardest of my hurdles in life to jump.
(although, would it be any better were John a cigarette smoking, caffiene dependent freelance writer with a propensity for the bottle and spurts of late night creative genious? I don't know, at least I could paint at 3AM if that were the case. Although I don't know that we'd ever have clean underwear.)
As another year's door slowly starts closing, I am fated to look back on the last 12 months. Overall, they have been productive. And difficult. And I'm making decent money and can pay the bills, but I'm rutted. I need something new and different and exciting and challenging and beautiful and dangerous and passionate and creative.
Any takers?
Like most good and responsible adults, I am cleaning, listening to my favorite band (thanks Dave, you rule), and aspiring toward a clean bedroom and no laundry on the floor.
And, like the nutter I am, also ponder life, death, and love while I work.
I am recently aware that my gift of creativity is squelched on several different levels: I work for someone else. Hence, my creative assets are roped in by another's boundaries.
I live with a way-too-conservative for even me, who needs 8 hours of sleep and structure. This is the hardest of my hurdles in life to jump.
(although, would it be any better were John a cigarette smoking, caffiene dependent freelance writer with a propensity for the bottle and spurts of late night creative genious? I don't know, at least I could paint at 3AM if that were the case. Although I don't know that we'd ever have clean underwear.)
As another year's door slowly starts closing, I am fated to look back on the last 12 months. Overall, they have been productive. And difficult. And I'm making decent money and can pay the bills, but I'm rutted. I need something new and different and exciting and challenging and beautiful and dangerous and passionate and creative.
Any takers?
18.11.04
Today's interesting thought
11/20
We are trapped
And catapulted
By who we are not, and
Who we should still be.
By whom we left in the back seat of a car,
Who we lost in a cold corner of the university library,
Who we forgot when the dress code changed yet again.
Did you know that once
I was an artist?
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.
I danced on the stage
I smiled at fear
I didn’t let what age had to say
Get in the way of progress
Of the crusade for social justice
Of art for the sake of beauty and love and creation.
As an artist,
It didn’t really make sense for me to listen to the voice that said,
What about when you have to pay the bills?
How will you ever get an apartment?
Don’t you think that there will be a time when you want a family
And a husband
And a dog and cat and John Deere lawn tractor and 401(k) and a closet full of made in Indonesia conformity?
Why did I say yes?
Is that what I really wanted?
Is it what I want now that I have it?
I want to ask
I want to go back
Talk with the artist in the back seat of the Escort
Parked in an abandoned cemetery, writing poems about the angst of love
And ask her
What do you think about staring emptily at an Excel spreadsheet, sending random emails, and abusing the internet for the better portion of your paycheck?
I want to discuss
The benefits of my investment accounts and retirement planning
With the punk purple haired girl in ripped Levi’s and an old man’s wool sweater
Who fought with the optometrist for her cat’s-eye and rhinestone glasses
I yearn to check in with the woman
Who organized a peaceful demonstration
For the progress of Capri pants in the workplace
Right after she was swept into Human Resources
And put on notice for insubordination.
What would she say about the chinos and sweater sets
The Franklin Covey planner
About being 27443, or 21964499 before that?
Most of all,
I want to catapult
More than retreat
Tap-dance naked on the moonlit beach at the cabin
Steal vintage signs from condemned buildings
Sing out loud in the car when stuck in rush hour
Flirt with danger and greatness and oblivion and passion
And remember to remember that I am
an artist.
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.
---
11/18
...If I could find the yellow brick road out of limboland, I'd be off faster than a girdle on prom night.
We are trapped
And catapulted
By who we are not, and
Who we should still be.
By whom we left in the back seat of a car,
Who we lost in a cold corner of the university library,
Who we forgot when the dress code changed yet again.
Did you know that once
I was an artist?
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.
I danced on the stage
I smiled at fear
I didn’t let what age had to say
Get in the way of progress
Of the crusade for social justice
Of art for the sake of beauty and love and creation.
As an artist,
It didn’t really make sense for me to listen to the voice that said,
What about when you have to pay the bills?
How will you ever get an apartment?
Don’t you think that there will be a time when you want a family
And a husband
And a dog and cat and John Deere lawn tractor and 401(k) and a closet full of made in Indonesia conformity?
Why did I say yes?
Is that what I really wanted?
Is it what I want now that I have it?
I want to ask
I want to go back
Talk with the artist in the back seat of the Escort
Parked in an abandoned cemetery, writing poems about the angst of love
And ask her
What do you think about staring emptily at an Excel spreadsheet, sending random emails, and abusing the internet for the better portion of your paycheck?
I want to discuss
The benefits of my investment accounts and retirement planning
With the punk purple haired girl in ripped Levi’s and an old man’s wool sweater
Who fought with the optometrist for her cat’s-eye and rhinestone glasses
I yearn to check in with the woman
Who organized a peaceful demonstration
For the progress of Capri pants in the workplace
Right after she was swept into Human Resources
And put on notice for insubordination.
What would she say about the chinos and sweater sets
The Franklin Covey planner
About being 27443, or 21964499 before that?
Most of all,
I want to catapult
More than retreat
Tap-dance naked on the moonlit beach at the cabin
Steal vintage signs from condemned buildings
Sing out loud in the car when stuck in rush hour
Flirt with danger and greatness and oblivion and passion
And remember to remember that I am
an artist.
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.
---
11/18
...If I could find the yellow brick road out of limboland, I'd be off faster than a girdle on prom night.
All things Great and Small
-- (psst: as much as I proclaim it, I'm not actually a Goddess. Here's my thoughts on Higher Power) --
"Name, please."
"Where am I?"
"Is that your given name?"
"No, no. My name is Georgia. Where am I?"
"Do you have a last name, Georgia?"
"Uh, yah. Churchill. Georgia Churchill. What is this place?"
"Eternity, honey. Welcome to it."
"You have to be kidding. I'm in Wisconsin."
"No, nope you are not. You were in a head-on collision with big rig hauling chickens west on I-90. Tsk. A real shame. Killed on impact."
"So..."
"So this is where your soul goes. Call it heaven, call it limbo, call it Hell. Here's where we go."
"Everyone's here?"
"Oh, no. Only instantaneous deaths. The Big Man doesn't know what to do with us, so He sticks us here."
"Wisconsin?"
"No. Eternity. Here."
"Ok. Well, then. Uh, what do you do here?"
"Not much, really. Line dancing lessons every Tuesday, there's a knitting circle. You can learn to churn butter if you're so inclined. We have a great selection of cheeses..."
"I AM in Wisconsin!"
"No honey, now I know that this might be hard for you to accept, but for the last time... you... are... dead. DEAD. Wisconsin's back in the world of the living. This is Eternity."
"Are there cows here?"
"The ones who have died instantaneously."
"See? Cows. Wisconsin."
"No. Instantly dead cows. Eternity."
"Do you have a football team?"
"I don't know. That's not my department."
"Well, whose is it?"
"Bill. He's three pastures over."
"Can I talk to him?"
"Sure. I'll send a b-mail and let him know you're on the way."
"Don't you mean e-mail?"
"No, honey, b-mail. Bovine-carried letters."
"Christ, this is Wisconisin...""
"Name, please."
"Where am I?"
"Is that your given name?"
"No, no. My name is Georgia. Where am I?"
"Do you have a last name, Georgia?"
"Uh, yah. Churchill. Georgia Churchill. What is this place?"
"Eternity, honey. Welcome to it."
"You have to be kidding. I'm in Wisconsin."
"No, nope you are not. You were in a head-on collision with big rig hauling chickens west on I-90. Tsk. A real shame. Killed on impact."
"So..."
"So this is where your soul goes. Call it heaven, call it limbo, call it Hell. Here's where we go."
"Everyone's here?"
"Oh, no. Only instantaneous deaths. The Big Man doesn't know what to do with us, so He sticks us here."
"Wisconsin?"
"No. Eternity. Here."
"Ok. Well, then. Uh, what do you do here?"
"Not much, really. Line dancing lessons every Tuesday, there's a knitting circle. You can learn to churn butter if you're so inclined. We have a great selection of cheeses..."
"I AM in Wisconsin!"
"No honey, now I know that this might be hard for you to accept, but for the last time... you... are... dead. DEAD. Wisconsin's back in the world of the living. This is Eternity."
"Are there cows here?"
"The ones who have died instantaneously."
"See? Cows. Wisconsin."
"No. Instantly dead cows. Eternity."
"Do you have a football team?"
"I don't know. That's not my department."
"Well, whose is it?"
"Bill. He's three pastures over."
"Can I talk to him?"
"Sure. I'll send a b-mail and let him know you're on the way."
"Don't you mean e-mail?"
"No, honey, b-mail. Bovine-carried letters."
"Christ, this is Wisconisin...""
Cara
-- Without love, what are we, really? --
My Final Crush
Sometimes
When I hear a song, or pass a funeral procession,
I think of you.
I imagine
what it's like
to instill the nuances of Twain
into your dark eyes,
between which
much pop music and teenage angst flows.
Why do you do it?
I always though you were more.
You and I, I think,
we'd have made a great scandal
as lovers.
we could have discusses the lyrics in Angel of Harlem
gone to Jayhawks concerts
lay around on Saturdays
as lovers do
eating cheerios and milk
wearing faded college sweatshirts
and thick, tortoiseshell glasses,
renaming all the colors
in the J. Crew catalog.
Alas, a lover only in imagination,
you gravitate to small town
and the lack of stoplights
makes me uneasy.
And so,
like all scandalous affairs,
I'd have left you brokenhearted
for the big city.
You'd have pined for me,
and lived life in hickville
alone
eating cheerios
analyzing U2
and thinking,
thinking,
thinking.
It would have been a fun love story.
My Final Crush
Sometimes
When I hear a song, or pass a funeral procession,
I think of you.
I imagine
what it's like
to instill the nuances of Twain
into your dark eyes,
between which
much pop music and teenage angst flows.
Why do you do it?
I always though you were more.
You and I, I think,
we'd have made a great scandal
as lovers.
we could have discusses the lyrics in Angel of Harlem
gone to Jayhawks concerts
lay around on Saturdays
as lovers do
eating cheerios and milk
wearing faded college sweatshirts
and thick, tortoiseshell glasses,
renaming all the colors
in the J. Crew catalog.
Alas, a lover only in imagination,
you gravitate to small town
and the lack of stoplights
makes me uneasy.
And so,
like all scandalous affairs,
I'd have left you brokenhearted
for the big city.
You'd have pined for me,
and lived life in hickville
alone
eating cheerios
analyzing U2
and thinking,
thinking,
thinking.
It would have been a fun love story.
Being Shags
-- the thoughts that end up on the screen instead of staying in my brain go here --
11/22
I will have a new U2 cd in my hot little hands in approximately 4.5 hours. Squeal! And, although most of my now decidedly uncool friends (yah, that's you...) aren't going, I say, God Bless the Sara(h)s, God Bless Bono, and God Bless the Irish.
This week is actually full of anticipation for me. I was thrilled to host Friends Thanksgiving III. It was a blast. It was so much fun that it hurt in the morning. And I guess that's really the way that it should be. I have the greatest friends (wait, didn't I just call them all decidedly uncool?) Ah, well.
I'm all over the place tonight. U2 -- then, one horribly long night of nothingness -- then, happiness is a bottle of muscato d'asti at chez Dave. Whee! A babysitter and all, I can hardly wait.
Squeal! What a fun week it will be (and no work for 4 days...)
sigh...
11/22
I will have a new U2 cd in my hot little hands in approximately 4.5 hours. Squeal! And, although most of my now decidedly uncool friends (yah, that's you...) aren't going, I say, God Bless the Sara(h)s, God Bless Bono, and God Bless the Irish.
This week is actually full of anticipation for me. I was thrilled to host Friends Thanksgiving III. It was a blast. It was so much fun that it hurt in the morning. And I guess that's really the way that it should be. I have the greatest friends (wait, didn't I just call them all decidedly uncool?) Ah, well.
I'm all over the place tonight. U2 -- then, one horribly long night of nothingness -- then, happiness is a bottle of muscato d'asti at chez Dave. Whee! A babysitter and all, I can hardly wait.
Squeal! What a fun week it will be (and no work for 4 days...)
sigh...
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