The United States of Colbertica...has a nice ring to it

Loki, Sio and I caught the re-run of Mr. Colbert at the White House Press Correspondent's Dinner. Brilliant, every moment. That was some motherfucking satire! And it was especially beautiful because Bush had to sit there and take it. I think it took Bush a while to figure out that he was actually being skewered, but he did not look happy once he did.

Colbert got a round of applause at our house, and a silent prayer that he not fly on any small planes.

Edited because a prayer can be silent, it can be whispered, but I don't think it can be both at the same time.



If you are like me, you or someone in your household gets Scientific American delivered once a month. James Burke used to have a column in SA called "Connections", and I always enjoyed reading it because of the way he would pull together all kinds of interesting little tidbits.

Loki posted something over at my sister's blog (where I occasionally post) that reminds me of those Connections columns: he starts with Coke and ends up with Blake, and it all makes sense somehow.

And he probably knew what a macron was without looking it up.


Meme day via Shakespeare's Sister

Accent: My mother has Brooklynese lazy lips (think Archie Bunker); my father has an Irish brogue. I have no accent, though. Connecticut is where the first American dictionary was compiled, so I pronounce everything as it was intended to be pronounced ; )

Booze: I like girly drinks, and whiskey. Not together.

Chore I Hate: All of them. I feel put out by all chores. I guess running errands, e.g., grocery shopping, would be my least hated.

Dog or Cat: I love them both. I have a dog and two cats.

Essential Electronics: Computer, TV (see post about my best friend below)

Favorite Cologne: Don’t wear any.

Gold or Silver: Don't wear any jewelry

Hometown: Hebron, CT, but I now live in cosmopolitan Manchester, CT.

Insomnia: Occasionally.

Job Title: Secretary, alto section leader.

Kids: Two daughters who are gorgeous, intelligent, and funny.

Living Arrangements: Colonial with too many stairs, tiny yard, with forementioned dog, cats, daughters plus one husband.

Most Admirable Traits: Excellent sense of humor, good listener.

Number of Sexual Partners: one

Overnight Hospital Stays: Osteotomy surgery, age 1.5 - about a 30 day stay. Slipped epiphesis at age 10 - 8 day stay, 7 of them in traction. Childbirth, age 19 - 24 hour stay. Childbirth, age 27 - 48 hour stay

Phobias: The dentist, jumping feet first into a pool.

Quote:"The more you know, the more you know you don't know." Stephen Sondheim

Religion: raised Irish-Catholic, now religion free and loving it

Siblings: one older sister, 2 younger sisters, one younger brother

Time I Wake Up: 6:30 - 7:00 a.m., I always plan to sleep later on the weekend, but it doesn't happen.

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can levitate, juggle, whistle with a blade of grass and sing a low B...first thing in the morning, anyway.

Vegetable I Love: green peppers, red onions, white radish

Worst Habit: I don't know where to begin.

X-Rays: So many that my uterus probably glows in the dark - bad hip = many pelvic X-rays

Yummy Foods I Make: I make a great cucumber salad: lemon juice, feta cheese, cukes, red onions and dill. Let me know if you want the recipe

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio. Now you know why I'm so mysterious.

edited to remove some too specific information

Upsetting - anyone up for some dream interpretation?

I didn't sleep well last night. I had a bad day yesterday - I didn't eat all day long, and then Loki and I had an upsetting fight, and I think both of those contributed to my horrible dreams.

I have this recurring dream that always leaves me feeling disturbed. In this dream, I live in an apartment building, and somehow, I find myself helping a neighbor of mine who I've never met. He sends me an e-mail asking me to take out his garbage, and I run up to his apartment and take the trash out for him. But there is this unsettling feeling in my dream - I know there is something very off about this person, and there is something very wrong about helping this person I've never met.

While I'm in the dream, I feel like I'm under this person's spell - he's appealing to my desire to be helpful, but even as I'm carrying out the task he's asked me to help with, I feel like I'm participating in something terrible that my brain never acknowledges - at least not in my dream. When I'm awake, I speculate that this person is a serial killer and I'm taking out the trash that contains body parts of people he's sliced and diced, or something along those lines. And sometimes when I'm awake and I think about it, I wonder if this other person in my dream is actually just me. In my dream, I never meet him. I never have a problem getting into his apartment, and I feel protective of him.

Any dream interpreters out there?



The TV has become my best friend lately. (If Loki is reading this, he will ask "just lately?"). I got season 1 of Scrubs on DVD from Netflix, and I finished watching the first two discs. Kind of a silly show, but it made me laugh a few times, which is all I really need from a sitcom.

On Tuesday, I watch Veronica Mars and House. Veronica Mars is currently my favorite show, and it's getting killed in the ratings, just like all the shows I dearly love seem to (*sob* Firefly; adieu, Arrested Development). First, VM was opposite Lost, and now it's opposite House, both of which are ratings juggernauts. And VM is superior to both of them.

Lost was an intriguing concept that is failing in execution - I liked some of the early episodes, but I started feeling bored midway through season 1. House has an intriguing main character who I can't completely buy because Bertie Wooster should not be wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle. Plus, as a person who walks with a cane, it drives me nuts that House does not use the cane properly. Are there no medical consultants on the show? You use the cane in the hand opposite the bad leg!!! That bugs me.

Veronica Mars, though...the Buffy shaped hole in my heart has been adequately filled. Intricate plots that actually advance, tragic characters, comic relief, witty dialog, tension, mystery. And that leaves out Veronica herself, portrayed in a beautifully complex performance by Kristin Bell. She's been compared to Nancy Drew, but did we meet Nancy Drew when she was trying to figure out who raped her while she was unconcious after being roofied at a party?

I feel slightly guilty about my love for two (well, three, but one is not on right now) reality shows: The Amazing Race & Top Chef (Project Runway is the 3rd). I love TAR because it is the reality show I would most want to be on, although Loki and I would totally lose because of my gimpiness and his inability to be on time for things. I reluctantly tuned into Top Chef because it was produced by the same people who did Project Runway. At first, I didn't really care for TC, since I can't smell or taste the food, which makes it hard to really determine who should win.

But they've had some great "characters" in this first season - Tiffani, the bitchy, no-nonsense bisexual; LeeAnn, who offers hilarious one-liners on her fellow competitors ("I'm on a team with the big thinker and the no thinker") and solid skills in the kitchen; Harold, who is just plain sexy, until he puts his glasses on, which makes him sexier; Dave, who twitches and swears and cries; and Stephen Aspirino, the tool & douchebag - at first he annoyed me, but then I couldn't stop laughing at his clueless arrogance and self-aggrandizement.

As Homer Simpson said: TV: teacher, mother, secret lover.


Results of yesterday's pondering

1. I've resolved to just continue monitoring the housing market and to move forward on some minor home improvement projects that will keep the value of our house from plummeting. I would guess the solution to this problem is more than 5 years away.

2. Possible solution: Trinity College has a special program for non-traditional students that offers classes at night and on the weekends. It offers a lot of flexibility. I am not sure if they offer a music major in this program, though. I'm looking into it.

3. Yes, but this is part of #1.

4. Still freaking.

5. I'm working up a flyer to distribute to neighbors. Before I distribute it, I may enlist my favorite neighbor to help.



I've been quiet lately because I've been pondering some long term plans.

1. Loki and I have to move to a one level house at some point in the future. I will likely only be able to have one artificial hip, and they have a 10-15 year lifespan, so my mobility in the future will be similar to my pre-hip replacement level. So I need to start preparing to do something about that.

2. At some point in my schooling, there will be classes I have to take that are only offered during working hours. How can I manage this and still make money and have health insurance?

3. My younger sister has severe rheumatoid arthritis, and at some point, my mother won't be able to take care of her anymore. Can we think about buying a home that would allow her the opportunity to move away from my parents but still have family close enought to take care of her (i.e., an in-law apt. type of situation?)

4. Sio is going to start her senior year of high school in 4 months. I'm kind of freaking out about scholarships, financial aid, etc.

5. Since gas prices have gone so high, and I don't see that they'll ever go back down again, should I start talking to my neighbors about arranging an errand carpool? For example, if Mr. X at 22 is going to Home Depot on Saturday, he will bring Mr. T who also needs to go to Home Depot. Pros: would save gas, money. Cons: would have to talk to neighbors (my New England side is *very* New England).


I've been discovered!

One of the moms from my list found my blog yesterday, and she was not happy with my post. I won't apologize for expressing my opinion here, and I can't be upset, since I use the same name on the list as I do here, so it wasn't like I was working hard to be anonymous. But it's kind of weird when someone you know from one arena finds you in another...I guess I'm a big fan of compartmentalizing, keeping various aspects of my life separate from each other.


What's bothering me today

Since 1996, I've been on an e-mail list of moms who were all due to have babies during the same month of 1997. We've been through all kinds of flame wars and insanity: breast or bottle, cloth or disposable, co-sleep or crib, spank or not, etc., etc. We've had list break-ups - a couple of very funny, smart, witty women left the list because they were tired of the more sensitive souls getting offended by bad language or sex talk. I've had some abuse heaped on me over the years because I am always willing to talk politics, and those who disagree with me hate discussing anything political with me because I will not concede them any of their points.

Anyway, we've been having a dust-up in the past week over religious issues. One of the moms, who happens to be a lesbian who belongs to a progressive and gay friendly Catholic parish, mentioned that baptisms are wonderful photo ops. A Catholic mom got hugely offended that anyone would refer to what she believes to be a sacred and deeply meaningful sacrament as a photo op - she saw the comment as a nasty jab. I did get involved at that point, and suggested that it was important that we be generous when interpreting the comments of others and not immediately leap to the conclusion that they were deliberately trying to insult us. I eventually got on the subject of Purity Balls, and once again, we were almost all in agreement that these events are creepy, so everything was good.

Then someone posted a link to a t-shirt that made a joke at Joseph Smith's expense (founder of the Mormon church). And everything got all hot and ugly again.

So today, I'm bothered by the Easily Offended; by the people who have no sense of humor about themselves or the things they believe in; to the folks who seem to get some kind of enjoyment from wearing twisted knickers.


I've got the blues, I'm in a funk

I can understand how blues music relates to the having the blues.

But I'm not sure how funk music relates to being in a funk. Unless, of course, listening to funk lifts you out of a funk, in which case, in the words of Rufus, in the voice of Chaka Khan, tell me something good.



Communion Conversation

At last night's Maundy Thursday service:

Sio: I have some of Jesus' body stuck in my teeth
My favorite tenor: That's okay - just wash it down with his blood!


Monkey speaks

Monkey writes exactly like she talks. I give you the following selections from her book report on Saving Shiloh:

"What happens in the story is there is a person who got in an
accident from driving drunk, and his name is Judd Travers. Now that
he doesn't need his crutches anymore, everyone thinks that he's the
one committing all the crimes that are going house to house.
Everyone, but Marty. See, Marty keeps standing up for Judd because
he thinks that Judd is trying to change, and so it turns out that he
*is* trying to change, and the reason I found this out so early in
the book is that there is a big blizzard and school is out for,
like, three weeks! Then Judd comes by with one of those things plows
have, and is plowing everyone's drive."

and a later quote:

"When Judd steps back to see how the fence looks, he accidentally
steps on the black & white dog's paw, and it bites Judd, soaking his
leg in blood. So Marty obviously calls Doc, and they give Judd 56
stitches! Yikes!!"


Lieberman sucks, but the local Democrats are good

On a party line vote, the Manchester, CT (my town) Board of Directors approved a living wage ordinance:

"It's the right thing to do and it's important the taxpayers of Manchester know we are for supporting people," Democratic Deputy Mayor Lisa Paggioli O'Neill said, adding that the Republicans' argument that the ordinance hurts the working poor because it pays them more and nets them less government assistance is nonsense. "That just really upsets me. It's very difficult to live on welfare, and it's not a forever thing."

Democratic Director John Topping agreed, saying of employees and businesses, "I have no problem paying someone $11.06 and health benefits if they're going to get something and that's a town contract."

How about that - leveraging the power of town contracts to help working people. My town joins about 130 towns nationwide in approving a living wage ordinance.

Why my dissatisfaction with the Democrats cannot make me a Green Party supporter

I know I complain about the Democratic party, and I do have Lieberman as a Senator, I cannot throw my support to the local Green Party. Why? Because they do boneheaded things like this:

The Green Party of Connecticut is poised to nominate a disbarred lawyer from Redding, Nancy Burton, as its candidate for state attorney general, a post statutorily required to be filled by a licensed lawyer.

Smooth start, Greens.

I just don't get the world anymore

St. Bernard Parish is considering hiring Michael "Heckuva Job" Brown's firm.

I just don't know what to say, other than WTF?


The things we parents must do...

Tonight, after my madrigals class, I have to go buy two pairs of shoes, because Monkey has not one, but two different projects that require a shoebox.

I suppose I could just ask the people at the shoestore if they have any empty boxes, but that wouldn't be sporting, would it?

Sio had a bad day

1. She fainted in Biology
2. She got sent home without getting to the library to print out her junior thesis which is due tomorrow
3. When she got home, she realized she had taken another students folder, which contained his junior thesis, which meant he had hers.
4. When she called the other student, she found his phone number has been disconnected.
5. In addition to printing out her junior thesis, she was supposed to have it bound.
6. The nearest Kinko's was open until 9pm.
7. It was 7pm before she got her folder
8. Loki has to leave for work at 9pm.

Thus far, things seem to have worked out okay - we made the folder exchange, and her boyfriend took her to a different Kinko's that is open 24 hours a day. Loki's computer only had WordPerfect, and through some sort of amazing serendipity (i.e., I did a little cleaning in my room), I found the MS Office CD that came with my old computer, and loaded it onto Loki's computer, which is the only working computer we have right now, although it doesn't have a working printer, which is why Sio had to print her paper out at school.

This is the downside to embracing the chaos, which I mostly do because I don't know how to combat it.


Rob Corddry Hates Me

Although I'm not sure if it's because I'm Irish, red-haired, or a list pauser.


Via Tom Hilton:

What is your favorite word? epiphany

What is your least favorite word? proactive

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Music, many different varieties.

What turns you off? bureaucracy

What is your favorite curse word? Motherfucker.

What sound or noise do you love? baby/toddler giggles

What sound or noise do you hate? sirens

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? almost anything

What profession would you not like to do? Accountant

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "go back, it's not time yet."


Mr. Shakes put a fine post up this morning about feminism, and, as always happens in any online forum, it didn't take long for someone to show up to complain: but what about the men?

As always, there is a feminist sympathetic man who doesn't understand why we need to have a feminist movement (Toast, who I nearly always emphatically agree with - and I understand what he's saying, which is that equality is equality, so shouldn't we be fighting for equality rather than breaking apart women's rights as a separate issue? Toast, if it were a better world we lived in, I would agree with you, but as it stands, I can't).

There is also a commenter who is hostile to the idea of feminism, The Jenga Toppler. My favorite comment complains - in the same comment! - that he/she is offended by the notion that criticism of feminism comes from men feeling threatened, just a couple of short paragraphs above his/her statement of how threatened feminism makes him feel:

snipped And not to mention the offensive premise that the only criticism of feminism can come because "men feel threatened" and not because the principles of feminism are wrong.

But of course, you haven't bothered to discuss the principles of feminism. Nor have you bothered to discuss the implications for a world in which the principles of feminism hold sway, or contrast this with a world in which humanism holds sway.

In fact, the whole article is thoroughly offensive. Men are denigrated throughout. Men who "are smart" wouldn't fight against feminism! What an argument. Condescension as a vote winner.

emphasis mine.

I'm not schooled in feminist theory, and I find a lot of the language of feminism tiresome, and I have an inner Groucho who doesn't want to join any club that would have me. But how can anyone, particularly a progressive man, take a look at where we are in the U.S. in 2006, and sincerely argue that we don't need feminism? Look at a picture of House of Representatives or the Senate. Look at the Supreme Court. Look at freaking South Dakota. Women are struggling to hold onto the ground they'd already gained. We have to break feminism apart because it's a different movement than humanism.

We shouldn't stop fighting for equal rights, but until we are all truly on a level playing field, we can't abandon the groups that are left behind.


Me and My Father

Next Friday - Good Friday - I will be waking up early to take my father to Bridgeport, so he can take the ferry to Port Jefferson, Long Island, where my Uncle Michael lives. My father isn't allowed to drive right now because of his drunk driving recidivism, and my mother will be watching my niece, so I'll be the driver.

In light of my recent post about trying to change, I suppose I can look to my father for some guidance. We've never had a good relationship - our relationship was defined by fear, namely, my fear of daddy.

Daddy woke up early every day - before dawn, most of the time. He'd be at work an hour before I ever got out of bed. He worked 6 days a week, 10 hours a day. Monday through Friday, he worked as a carpenter for a big construction company; Saturdays, he did contracting work, mostly for friends and people who got his number from friends.

On Mondays, when daddy got home from work, my older sister and I would disappear to our room. We wouldn't want to come out until we knew what kind of mood he was in, and on Mondays, he was usually in a bad mood - the Irish club, where he would go to drink, was closed on Monday.

Some days he would come home after hoisting a few at the club, and he'd be in a cheerful mood. He'd walk in the door, his 6'4" frame ducking as he walked under the overhead light in the kitchen, and he'd swoop up my sister and I in his arms. He smelled like sweat and sawdust and cigarettes and beer, and his beard would be coming in red, although his hair was black.

On good mood days, he would sit down and my sister and I would each take off one of his boots, and peel off his white tube socks. After dinner, we knew exactly how he liked his tea, and he would sit on the couch and fall asleep with a toothpick in his mouth.

Some days he would come home in what appeared to be a good mood, but it was really the Crazy Mood, the mood that could turn on you and backhand you across the face. We learned how to tiptoe around daddy, to be invisible and unnoticed.

He was in a crazy mood the day he tried to hit my sister with a lead pipe. And the day he punched me in the nose because I was washing the dishes too slowly. And the day he punched me so many times my whole back was black and blue because I was jumping on my bed.

My mother would sometimes take my father's good moods as an opportunity to talk to him about things that would put him a bad mood - we always kind of resented her for that. When he was in a crazy mood, she would sometimes pack all of us kids into the car and start driving to New York, but we rarely got past the caterpillar bridge in Middletown before she would turn back.

As my sister and I got older, the physical abuse subsided, except for one huge incident when T. turned 18 and moved out of the house. My father forbade any of us from saying her name, talking to her, or reminding him that she existed. And one day, I got caught talking to my sister on the phone, and my father picked up a wing chair and slammed it down on my head. I was 16 years old at the time, and I don't even remember getting hurt, I think because I was so furious. I barely remember what happened after that, but my mother tells me she found me two hours later hiding under the picnic table in our backyard.

So you can see why my relationship with my father was defined by fear. He was fucking scary!

Despite all that, my father also could be tender. The back half acre of our yard was a field for many years, and when my father finally cut the field down with a scythe, he found a nest of baby rabbits. He carefully scooped out the sleeping bunnies, finished mowing the field down, and replaced them back in their nest. And when we got splinters, daddy was the one who could take them out without making us cry.

My father would never say he was proud of me, and except for once, he never came to any of my concerts, plays, or softball games. But when I went to the club, his friends always seemed to know what was going on in my life, so clearly, whatever he couldn't say to me, he could say to them.

When I moved out, I basically cut my father out of my life. I didn't do it in a ritualistic, decisive way - I just stopped talking to him.

Lately, my relationship with my father has changed. I can't imagine a time when he would call me to take him on a drive. He's planning to do some landscaping at our house this summer, and he's talked about other projects he'd like to do at our house. It's kind of weird, because we've never talked about things that happened in the past, but I feel like I know how he feels, and he knows how I feel, and we're just putting it behind us.

Have you thanked Harry Taylor yet?

By now, you have heard about Harry Taylor. This story makes me happy and sad at the same time. I was thrilled to read Mr. Taylor's statement to the president - it's about bloody time Bush had to face someone who wasn't a fawning supporter. And I was sort of thrilled to read the pages and pages of Thank You's on this webpage.

But how sad it is for our country that one person getting to say something oppositional or critical to our president is such a stand-out moment.

On the plus side, Bush is at 36%, and as long as Mr. Taylor is only the first of many people to speak up and get noticed, maybe we can get those numbers to do the Limbo.



SCARBOROUGH: Did Hillary Clinton leave the White House in shambles? Well, according to a new book, first lady Laura Bush found worn and outdated furniture, frayed carpeting, and just absolutely tasteless decorations, from the Oval Office to the East Wing. Was Hillary too busy trying to play assistant president?

Now Laura Bush is an arbiter of taste? I submit that she wouldn't recognize taste if it was sitting in the passenger seat with her high school boyfriend.

Exhibit A:

Nice back to the future hair, mrs. Bush - where did you get it cut, 1955?

Exhibit B:

Oh, my goodness, that dress is Texas trashy, and a woman with Laura's figure should not be putting a delicate ribbon around her waist. Plus...are those plastic ornaments on the tree?

Exhibit C:

Look at what she married.

I realize I'm not addressing the larger point here, which is that in 2006, we are still talking about homemaking as woman's domain. This is an effort to put Hillary Clinton in a box - she's a woman, and she's not good at womanly things! - for the sole point of making Hillary appear diminished, worthless. I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton, and I sincerely hope she is not the Democratic candidate in 08, but this is ridiculous.

And Laura Bush shows her classlessness by spreading the rumor through a subordinate. Graceless, classless, tasteless.

Three Good Things

1. Today's Hartford Courant headline: Bush Visit Delights Dems. I'm glad to see the local Dems embracing the fact that Bush is unpopular, and seeing that it can hurt Shays chances for re-election.
2. It's stopped snowing, and the sun is out.
3. One of my co-workers is now the proud father of twin boys - 6 lbs, 10 oz & 5 lbs, 13 oz - that's 12 lbs, 7 oz of baby!

Three bad things

1. It's snowing. Big, fat, wet flakes of snow are falling and accumulating.
2. Apparently, I sprained my back while sitting on my fat ass. Who knew that could be an injury prone activity?
3. Monkey has pneumonia. It hurts to hear her breathe, and it sound worse today, 24 hours after she started taking antibiotics.


Can people change?

I mentioned in my post below that we never leave the house without something to read. The book I stashed in the trunk on Sunday morning was Separate Flights - a collection of short stories plus a novella by Andre Dubus.

The novella included in this collection is called We Don't Live Here Anymore. The protagonist is Jack Linden, and the story is about marriage and adultery - the near dissolution of his marriage due to adultery. It's not a happy picture of marriage, but what makes the story so resonant for me is Jack's description of his wife, Terry, a woman he no longer loves. Terry is described as angry, as a slob; she drinks too much and never takes care of the house, and one event that really raises Jack's ire is when he realizes she never changed the sheets after their son wet his bed. Tied together with finding two pots on the basement stairs, pots that were used a month prior and still were never cleaned, Jack finds his justification for his ongoing adulterous relationship with his friend's wife.

Terry claims she forgot about them, but Jack doesn't believe her - and although Jack may not be the most reliable narrator, he makes a compelling case for why she really didn't forget about them.

Because Dubus is a masterful writer, Terry is still a sympathetic character. She is a woman who found herself unexpectedly pregnant, before her own life even started, and clearly yearns for a life that doesn't involve washing dishes or changing sheets. She spends her days reading books Jack brings home. She wants something other than what she has, but she seems powerless to change.

If you are a regular reader, you might see from the previous paragraph why the story is resonant for me.

So I was navel gazing this weekend in between reading stories and sitting in my car waiting for my promised ride to pick me up. I am a great inputter of stuff: I watch too much television, read too many blogs, eat too much food; meanwhile, I put off doing stuff: while I read, the dishes pile up in the sink. While I watch TV, life is happening. And the eating...alcoholism is prevalent in my family, and food is my substitute for booze. I eat too much and for reasons other than hunger.

As a child, I hated to admit that I was wrong, or that it was even possible for me to be wrong, but I'm comfortable with it now, and I freely acknowledge my many flaws: my bad temper, overeating, neglect of my home, the way I have embraced entropy. And I tell myself that it's just the way I am, and everytime I try to make a change, I find myself back where I started, and that just reinforces it: I cannot change.

But it's not how I want to be, and if it's my life, I should be able to change it, right? I'm not sure I believe that I can change my life; that anyone can change, really. And if I can change, I'm not sure how to do it. I've tried to change my habits before and I always end up back where I started. I am quick to break promises to myself.

I wonder if the only way to really change is do something dramatic, something that throws your old life into upheaval, making it essential to find a different way to do things. Or should it be done incrementally, slowly and methodically?

Any suggestions, oh so quiet and perhaps non-existant readers?

A winning slogan for the mid-term elections

Tom Hilton's got it

My kingdom for a Vicodin

I mentioned yesterday that my back hurt, but yesterday was nothing compared to how it feels today. Holy Tibetan Monks, I would kill for a Vicodin right now.


A beautiful day, and yet

As usual, my mother called me last night to remind me to spring forward, but the sun and blue sky pouring through my bedroom window woke me long before my alarm was due to go off.

Loki had a serious eating and drinking event with his BIL, so he stayed at his sister's last night, and Sio was still in Washington D.C., so Monkey and I headed out the door to church.

Today's sermon was completely inoffensive, and I was in high spirits as Monkey and I left church and headed out to the car. We buckled ourselves in, turned the key, and hit the button for the stupid security system our car came with, and nothing happened. I couldn't start the car. We locked it up and decided to go for a little walk, so we headed over to Bushnell Park with our books.* We came back, tried again. Nothing.

So I called Loki, and he said his sister would come get us. And she did -- almost 3 hours later. She was not assessed of our situation in a timely fashion. Loki is happy to be at work, and not here, where I am still angry that he took so long to get out to us.

I did something to my back, and now I can hardly move. I left the car in the church parking lot (note to self: call the church in the morning to let them know it's your car), and my mother is coming to pick me up at 5:45 a.m. so I can direct her to Loki's place of business.

On the plus side, it really was beautiful today, Sio's group won all the first place awards at the adjudication, and we have enough money in the bank to pay for whatever needs to be fixed (Loki and I think we just have to get rid of that motherfucking security system that we both hate - the battery has juice, everything else seems to work except for the mf security system.)

*We never leave the house without something to read.