Yesterday I went shopping for some new pants for work, and I officially fit comfortably into the next size down. Hurrah! Also, I've been able to wear my original wedding ring on my ring finger - though I have to take it off if my hands get too warm. So that's not quite as cool as it could be, but you have to understand, I haven't been able to wear it since 2006, and I mean I couldn't slide that thing on even in the middle of winter. So it was a big deal when I slid it on back in February for the first time in close to 3 years.
What have I been doing since 2006 when I couldn't get the ring on? Well I went without one for awhile. I didn't even really mind the question I got about once a month, "Why don't you wear your wedding ring?" It's sort of a funny question to me, because it smacks of, "Did you lose it? Did you never have one? Do you not love your husband? What is it??" But after a very... friendly patron asked me out and was hugely embarrassed that I was married, I decided I needed a decoy. Since then, I've been wearing a $15 ring that I bought off of Amazon; it's a generous 4 sizes bigger. But ever since February, it's been sliding dangerously down my finger if I move my hands too much. I'll probably lose it soon, but the thought that it was only $15 is a comfort.
Which brings us to an important point. What happened to my goals? The last we heard of my goals was back in February, the day before I got my wisdom teeth removed. And while I had no idea what to expect, I soon learned that one can NOT exercise while blood is gushing out of giant holes in their mouth. Nor even soon afterward. So I haven't done it since February, but I'm ready to try again.
Now I want everyone to know: I can be a thrill-seeker at times. I am very tempted to go skydiving. But right now, I am going to attempt quite a feat: when I leave the computer, I'm going to go do one of those 15-minute workouts. This is more risky than you think. In December, I went to the hospital with a kidney stone that had been dislodged because I started this workout three days earlier. After a month of recovery, I started my workout again and the next day went back to the ER because I had dislodged a SECOND kidney stone. So. It's been 2 months since I worked out last. If there are any lurking kidney stones in there, they could be dislodged now. This is scary stuff! Here I go...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Maybe not the happiest place on earth?
It certainly wasn't for this guy, who was arrested at Disneyland today. Not that I feel sorry for him. But what a place to get busted!
And think of the thought process behind that move - you rob a bank and then head down to Disneyland? You almost need to rob a bank to get into that place these days.
"You've just pulled a heist, now what are you going to do??"
"I'm going to Disneyland!"
And think of the thought process behind that move - you rob a bank and then head down to Disneyland? You almost need to rob a bank to get into that place these days.
"You've just pulled a heist, now what are you going to do??"
"I'm going to Disneyland!"
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Ode to my blogging class
Tonight I finished up the last class in our blogging series. And while I enjoyed it very much, you can imagine my surprise to find that some of the people taking the class enjoyed it, too! To the point where one of my class-goers wanted to take a picture with me after the class was over. I mean, either he really enjoyed the class, or I was dressed goofy or my hair was messed up and he wanted to capture it so he can blog about it to all of his friends later...
I'm sure there's a very boring and rational reason for it, but for a couple of seconds there you can bet that I was pretending that I was a rock star.
I'm sure there's a very boring and rational reason for it, but for a couple of seconds there you can bet that I was pretending that I was a rock star.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sabbatical
Sabbatical - any extended period of leave from one's customary work, esp. for rest
It's been awhile since I've posted, hasn't it? After being sick, I'm well enough now to start moving around and interacting with the world some more, so hopefully I'll have some good stuff to write about. Being sick is sort of a lame excuse, I know, but I try to be positive on my blog, and it's hard to be positive when I feel just about as cheerful as the demon dog from the Ghostbusters.
When I'm sick, I'm also just about as cuddly, Michael can attest to that. A lot of people were really annoyed that they couldn't reach my by phone during this time, and I think I may have done you a favor, because you really don't want evil incarnate on the other end of the line, do you? That is, if I could have said a word anyway.
So now that I'm returning to more of a Louis Tully state-of-mind (is that really better?), I think I can blog now without wanting to rip the keyboard out of the computer and hit myself over the head to try to knock myself unconscious.
How about a library story while we wait for life to kick in? I was at work on Saturday, and two little girls came up to the desk. Adorable thing #1 and adorable thing #2. We will call them thing 1 and thing 2. The older of the two couldn't have been more than six years old. They said they lost their mom. I asked them what she looked like, then realized how stupid this was as they launched into a stuttered, hesitating attempt at any description that came to mind. I stopped them and asked what color hair she had (they said brown like theirs), and what her name was. I got on the phone and called the the second floor and the children's librarians, and asked them to look for her.
I understand that only having a name and hair color is not much to go by, but there is one other distinct feature that will clue us in on who the mom is: she will be frantically searching for her children. (Usually). There is something very singular about a woman with fear in her eyes, walking quickly up and down the stacks, peering into each one, turning her head, scanning all areas of the room. I got calls back from the other librarians that there were no frantic mothers nearby. Thing 1 was starting to get upset, even though I didn't let her know we hadn't found her mom yet. I hung up the phone and looked straight at her and said, "We've got lots of people looking for her and we're going to find her [insert smile]. Why don't you guys wait on this cushy couch right here? It's really soft to sit on." Thing 1 and thing 2 run over and plop down, and probably the most useful part of this is that they are staying in one place, and not running randomly around the library looking for mom.
Sure enough, two minutes later, their mom comes in from the parking lot with fire in her eyes. Relieved but angry. I could hear her yelling at them from the other side of the room. But really - I thought - didn't they do the best thing they could have? They realized they were lost, and they found an adult. And not just any old library-patron adult. But a real, bona-fide librarian adult. And we got a whole team of people helping them out. They did the best they could possibly do outside of having her cell number memorized. But at the same time, the mom was probably blowing off steam. She got worked up and freaked out and couldn't reign it in once she found them. But I really do think they did the best they could have.
It's been awhile since I've posted, hasn't it? After being sick, I'm well enough now to start moving around and interacting with the world some more, so hopefully I'll have some good stuff to write about. Being sick is sort of a lame excuse, I know, but I try to be positive on my blog, and it's hard to be positive when I feel just about as cheerful as the demon dog from the Ghostbusters.
When I'm sick, I'm also just about as cuddly, Michael can attest to that. A lot of people were really annoyed that they couldn't reach my by phone during this time, and I think I may have done you a favor, because you really don't want evil incarnate on the other end of the line, do you? That is, if I could have said a word anyway.
So now that I'm returning to more of a Louis Tully state-of-mind (is that really better?), I think I can blog now without wanting to rip the keyboard out of the computer and hit myself over the head to try to knock myself unconscious. How about a library story while we wait for life to kick in? I was at work on Saturday, and two little girls came up to the desk. Adorable thing #1 and adorable thing #2. We will call them thing 1 and thing 2. The older of the two couldn't have been more than six years old. They said they lost their mom. I asked them what she looked like, then realized how stupid this was as they launched into a stuttered, hesitating attempt at any description that came to mind. I stopped them and asked what color hair she had (they said brown like theirs), and what her name was. I got on the phone and called the the second floor and the children's librarians, and asked them to look for her.
I understand that only having a name and hair color is not much to go by, but there is one other distinct feature that will clue us in on who the mom is: she will be frantically searching for her children. (Usually). There is something very singular about a woman with fear in her eyes, walking quickly up and down the stacks, peering into each one, turning her head, scanning all areas of the room. I got calls back from the other librarians that there were no frantic mothers nearby. Thing 1 was starting to get upset, even though I didn't let her know we hadn't found her mom yet. I hung up the phone and looked straight at her and said, "We've got lots of people looking for her and we're going to find her [insert smile]. Why don't you guys wait on this cushy couch right here? It's really soft to sit on." Thing 1 and thing 2 run over and plop down, and probably the most useful part of this is that they are staying in one place, and not running randomly around the library looking for mom.
Sure enough, two minutes later, their mom comes in from the parking lot with fire in her eyes. Relieved but angry. I could hear her yelling at them from the other side of the room. But really - I thought - didn't they do the best thing they could have? They realized they were lost, and they found an adult. And not just any old library-patron adult. But a real, bona-fide librarian adult. And we got a whole team of people helping them out. They did the best they could possibly do outside of having her cell number memorized. But at the same time, the mom was probably blowing off steam. She got worked up and freaked out and couldn't reign it in once she found them. But I really do think they did the best they could have.
Monday, April 13, 2009
This week's music crush
I'm back from vacation. I bought this song right before we left, and on the road I realized that it was this week's music crush. Nothing like riding in a car to give new life to a song. Upbeat songs are my favorite kind, and this one fits right in. I especially like the chorus. (00:54 if you want to skip ahead)
Do The Panic - Phantom Planet
Speaking of the road, I saw this on a marquee outside of a mechanic shop:
Line 1: Huge Tire Sale
Line 2: Going on now
Line 3: Small tires too
It got a chuckle out of me. I love it when the marquee guys are creative.
Do The Panic - Phantom Planet
Speaking of the road, I saw this on a marquee outside of a mechanic shop:
Line 1: Huge Tire Sale
Line 2: Going on now
Line 3: Small tires too
It got a chuckle out of me. I love it when the marquee guys are creative.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Small details
A couple of young ladies came up to me this evening.
Y. L. "Do you have a phone number for - uh - someone who could come unlock our car?"
Me: "Let me do a quick search and write down some numbers for you."
Y. L. while I'm writing down numbers:
"Wait - Do we have to - like - pay?"
Me: "Uh. I don't think they do it for free... "
Y. L. "Do you have a phone number for - uh - someone who could come unlock our car?"
Me: "Let me do a quick search and write down some numbers for you."
Y. L. while I'm writing down numbers:
"Wait - Do we have to - like - pay?"
Me: "Uh. I don't think they do it for free... "
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Lost in linguistics
One of my favorite parts of the book Bridget Jones's Diary are her conversations with her friend Magda, who is recently married with young children. Magda often breaks into the conversation with directions to her kids, but there's no segway like, "Hold on, Bridget" or "I have to say something to the kids real quick." She just jumps right into what she's saying to her kids. Here's an example from the book:
"Bridget, hi! I was just ringing to say in the potty! In the potty! Do it in the potty!"
There was a loud crashing noise followed by the sound of running water and screaming in manner of Muslims being massacred by Serbs with "Mummy will smack! She will smack!" as if on a loop in the background.
"Magda!" I yelled. "Come back!"
"Sorry, hon," she said, eventually returning. "I was just ringing to say . . . tuck your willy inside the potty! If you let it hang out it'll go on the floor!"
My own sisters do these no-segway interjections to their kids a lot. I understand that it's something every parent goes through, but it really cracks me up, especially when what they're saying to their kids is bizarre when taken in the context of our conversation. This morning I called my sister and it went something like this:
Me: "So then the doctor prescribed me some probiotics, which I thought sounded good."
Sister, sounding longsuffering: "No. You have to put underwear on."
This made me giggle so much I couldn't stop.
And aside from the conversational absurdity, a whole ream of questions come into play: "Someone doesn't have any underwear on. Do they have anything on? I bet it's breezy. Why is there no underwear on? Did they take it off? Maybe they like it breezy. I don't think I would. I wouldn't want anyone to sit on the furniture that way, nightgown or not."
"Bridget, hi! I was just ringing to say in the potty! In the potty! Do it in the potty!"
There was a loud crashing noise followed by the sound of running water and screaming in manner of Muslims being massacred by Serbs with "Mummy will smack! She will smack!" as if on a loop in the background.
"Magda!" I yelled. "Come back!"
"Sorry, hon," she said, eventually returning. "I was just ringing to say . . . tuck your willy inside the potty! If you let it hang out it'll go on the floor!"
My own sisters do these no-segway interjections to their kids a lot. I understand that it's something every parent goes through, but it really cracks me up, especially when what they're saying to their kids is bizarre when taken in the context of our conversation. This morning I called my sister and it went something like this:
Me: "So then the doctor prescribed me some probiotics, which I thought sounded good."
Sister, sounding longsuffering: "No. You have to put underwear on."
This made me giggle so much I couldn't stop.
And aside from the conversational absurdity, a whole ream of questions come into play: "Someone doesn't have any underwear on. Do they have anything on? I bet it's breezy. Why is there no underwear on? Did they take it off? Maybe they like it breezy. I don't think I would. I wouldn't want anyone to sit on the furniture that way, nightgown or not."
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