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Friday, August 26, 2005
Every week, the music director gives me a CD with the edited recording of Sunday's sermon, which I then convert to mp3 using iTunes, so that I can add it to St. Ned's web site and sermon podcast.
Naturally, iTunes wants to be helpful, so it queries CDDB to see if it can identify the CD. And sometimes it grabs hold of a title at random.
This week, it thinks the sermon is Supa Rock Mix Mutha F by Supa Mix Madness. Last week's was identified as Phat or Wack? by Insane Clown Posse.
Apparently sermons are much more creative on their planet.
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Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Winner! Winner! Ding Ding Ding!
Congratulations to reader Kathi, who correctly guessed 18. Which, by the way, is the number of toes Clyde has, just like a normal cat. I had a cat with extra toes when I was a kid; his name was Paws.
I'm going shopping at Bargain Clown tonight, baby.
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Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Dennis is cleaning out the Sexton supply closet at St. Ned's this morning. So far, he has found a couple of petrified half-eaten donuts, a frighteningly heavy and gothic-looking metal power strip which may have come from Dr. Frankenstein's lab, banners from events that no one even remembers, and Seventeen Magazine's Guide to Your Body. All of which paint a very strange picture of the life of a church sexton.
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Monday, August 22, 2005
I am bored and Bargain Clown has more clocks. So it's time for another round of guess-the-number. I have told Dennis a number between 1 and 100. The person who comes closest to it (post in comments) wins a fibre-optic Jesus clock and some other goodies of randomness. US addresses only, void where anyone wants to be a dick about it. Contest ends at noon on Wednesday, August 24.
Oh, and it's not two. Because there's a giant two in my last post and it seems excessively obvious.
Go!
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Our giant glitter-encrusted number two.
We went to the early service yesterday (picture me fumbling over the Rite I language), and then got coffee and went for a walk. We've been doing these little wanderings to get acquainted with our new home. On Saturday, we checked out our little strip mall up the street, and picked up menus from all the restaurants and poked around the awesome Indian market.
The strip mall is also home to the most wonderful store ever, Bargain Clown. Ok, that's not its real name, but the Bargain Clown is full of things like my own personal fibre optic Jesus clock, which was $1.49 and worth every penny of it. I heart Bargain Clown, baby.
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Saturday, August 20, 2005
It's so cool having Saturdays with Dennis...as long as we've been married, he's had to work at the Record Barn on Saturday, but now he doesn't have to. This morning we got up and went out for breakfast and an early movie (Broken Flowers...good, not great). Breakfast was fast so we had some time to kill down on Santana Row. Santana Row is one of those fake-street shopping/lifestyle plaza dealies. They're all over the place here. See, it's like a thriving downtown, without all the poor people and non-chain stores!
Anyway, we went into Borders to look at books, and somehow we ended up in the Religion section (I was looking for the knitting books, oops), where I discovered the bizarre parallel world of Christian genre fiction and self-help. Had enough of that godless badly-written science fiction/fantasy? Well, how about some badly written science fiction or fantasy that gives glory to the Lord? Or maybe some romance? Mysteries? Chick lit? Light You Go Girl relationship advice? It's all there. It's like a creepy store-within-a-store, where you know that you will not encounter anything that will threaten your sensibilities in any way. We did a bunch of random page tests and were howling. I guess we're supposed to forgive the sin of bad writing, and this was a whole bunch of opportunities for spiritual discipline.
This afternoon, I went to Ikea with Ryan. The best part was probably the small child who had climbed up on top of a stack of throw rugs and was sobbing and saying, "We are never going to get out of this place!" A statement, by the way, which seemed less funny in the checkout and the parking garage. I got a curtain rod and a floor lamp (we had a lamp casualty in the move). Our place is starting to come together a bit.
Ooops, sorry, talked about moving again. Moving isn't funny! Must be funnier!
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Wednesday, August 17, 2005
I think I have life whiplash. I'm so tired this week, despite getting a decent amount of sleep, and I think the best explanation is that I'm finally feeling all the changes that have piled up in the last month. I mean, it was only six weeks or so ago that the kitchen ceiling fell down and started this whole thing in motion. And now we live somewhere else and Dennis has a different job and I'm not going back to school this year and I can't find any of my stuff. Whew. That's kind of a lot, isn't it?
Now I'm fighting my need to have everything! settled! in the new place, which just isn't going to happen for a while now. I think we still have too much furniture and crap, despite the pre-move purge-fest. I'm sure that Sunnyvale freecycle will get to know me as well as the Oakland one did. I haven't even brought over all the stuff that is stashed in Ryan's garage.
Clyde is doing ok in the new place; she spends most of her time back in her new panic room, which is actually a panic shelf in the closet. This is ideal because she is hidden and elevated, which are both high on her list. She is eating and using her new litterbox, so we're not too worried about her, but we'd like to see a little more mobility from her soon. And not just at 4:00 a.m., which is when all the pent-up Clyde energy seems to be coming out in less-than-charming ways. Let's just say that she enjoys finding things that make noise.
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Monday, August 15, 2005
WHERE ARE MY PANTS?!?
For that matter, where are any of my clothes? I see Dennis' clothes. Ok, my stuff has five seconds to reveal itself, or I'm wearing something totally inappropriate today.
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Sunday, August 14, 2005
We went to Mama's Royal Cafe on Broadway for breakfast this morning, which was an excellent call. Sleep-deprived people need omelets. In an amusing bit of restaurant karma, the guy who just about ran over Dennis to be ahead of us going into the restaurant so that he could put his name on the list first got a really crappy table next to the cashier, which pretty much dooms one to a constant parade of other people's asses entirely too close to one's head. We got a nice table in the calmer part of the place about thirty seconds later. So, heh. Jerk.
More moving today. Whee. Definitely in the home stretch, though.
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Saturday, August 13, 2005
Today is moving day. Whoo fucking hoo.
Breathing sucks. I've stirred up a ton of dust this week, plus we discovered some lovely new hidden mold deposits behind the CD cabinet that was bolted to the wall. I'm probably under investigation for using more sudafed than a meth lab. I'm out on the porch right now trying to breathe some clean-ish Oakland air.
Miss Kittenpants just keeps walking around and jumping on all the boxes, like a furry Q-Bert.
Dennis is off getting coffee for himself and dropping off a bunch of old clothes and blankets at the drop-off at People's Park in Berkeley, and then he's running a van-load down to the new place. I'm taking the bedroom apart. Yay! It's Swiffer-rific!
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Friday, August 12, 2005
Stuff On My Cat - isn't it nice when a web site gives you exactly what you expect, based on its name? Here is a page of cats with stuff on them.
Clyde has already issued a statement. It reads, HELL NO!
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Wednesday, August 10, 2005
As you know, I try to only say positive things about Dennis in my blog. But I'm going to make an exception now, because I just have to vent about the fact that my husband is the worst mind-reader ever. Seriously. Through this whole moving project, he has insisted that I need to use words* to tell him what elaborate plans I have put together. Just thinking it and deciding that it's a done deal is somehow not enough.
*I suspect he would also accept mime, of course. Help! I'm trapped in a moving box! And walking against the wind!
I do this a lot; I over-think something to the point that I'm certain that everyone else has been along for the mindfuck ride and has come to the same conclusion. And then I get all confused when they look at me like my eyebrows are on fire.
Actually, Dennis gets me better than anyone else on the planet; he can usually figure out what is happening inside my head. I just haven't been making that especially easy lately because I'm So! Full! of! Ideas! many of which are not possible due to basic laws of physics. A sofa and a chair cannot occupy the same physical space, for example.
One of the more entertaining aspects of moving is trying to remember what caused the various bruises on my body. My extreme lack of both grace and upper-body strength means that there is much bashing things into my body and bashing my body into things. There's a weird perfectly round bruise on my thigh which probably has a good story.
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Sunday, August 07, 2005
I hate moving. We're going to have to live in the new place until we die, because I don't think I'm willing to move ever again. Also, my silver glitter number two rocks. I'm going to hang it up tomorrow.
Of course I wish I had gotten more done this weekend, but oh well. I got some stuff done.
Mostly I just feel sorry for everyone who has to deal with me, because I'm Madame le Prickly Pear right now. Not that I take criticism well under the best of circumstances, but I totally spiraled out on just one negative comment at work last week. The complaint wasn't even actually my fault, but it still messed me up for days. I have a fucked-up babel fish in my head that takes, "I got this one thing later than I would have on my own ideal planet," and turns it into, "Sara is totally incompetent and useless and everyone secretly hates her and she doesn't deserve to be here." Seriously, that's a quote, straight from the inside of my head. It's getting scary in there, because the security patrol that usually deals with this stuff has been all distracted by perfectly normal moving-related stress. So it's like Whoo hoo! Demon party! Activate 7th Grade Module. You gonna cry? Cry! Cry!
Ahem. Yeah. It's a fucking picnic in my head. And the cole slaw has gone bad.
We're going to start doing major furniture moving tomorrow, so I expect Clyde to be in her panic room pretty much all the time until we're ready to put her in the scary kitty box and drive her to the new place, which will feature an hour-long performance of the incredibly passionate and touching I Hate the Car aria. One show only.
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Thursday, August 04, 2005
I am not doing all that well today; I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of some sort of panic-fest. I have so much stuff to do at work, I would probably be feeling a bit of pressure even if I didn't also live in a chaos zone. Actually two chaos zones, although we can't move into the new place quite yet because it still needs to be painted. The previous tenant wasn't out in time.
But, I do have an enormous number two.
No, seriously, I have a big wooden number two that I'm going to hang on our fence because you can't see that we are apartment 2 if the gate is closed, and someday I'll want to get pizza delivered. I'm going to cover my number two with silver glitter, because glitter is my friend.
I went to Ikea last night, which is maybe the last place to go when you're feeling like life is really complicated and you can't quite deal with all of it. I rapidly cycled between wanting to just move in to one of the little house vignettes, which were so clean and organized and Swedish, and being freaked out because no amount of umlaut-laden furniture is going to make everything ok right now. I'm still hoping to find what we need (mostly someplace to put the TV/stereo) used, but it's good to know what the options are. So the only thing I bought was the $1.50 hot dog & soda combo on my way out.
Dennis woke me up this morning and said very nice things to me about how well I'm dealing with the move, so I laughed and said that he missed my freakout yesterday, and then he said that I missed his, too. So as long as we're able to keep scheduling our freakouts at opposite times, I think we'll be fine.
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Tuesday, August 02, 2005
I put Sarah on a plane back home today. So no more fun distraction. Now I have to actually deal with the reality of my life, which at the moment is all about the moving.
I'm going over to the new place today so we can get cable installed, and I need to take a bunch of measurements so that I can figure out how much furniture we can bring with us. I think the new apartment about even in square footage to the old one, but the configuration is very different and I'm having a hard time picturing how it will all fit together. So it's graph paper time.
And, hey, we will have electricity, since I finally realized yesterday that, gee, maybe we should think about calling PG&E to arrange for such a thing. Or else change the name of my blog to My So-Called Amish Life.
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Monday, August 01, 2005
You know what's really f'ing metal? Or at least really, um, f'ing a cappella? Knitting! We ended up having an impromptu knitting seminar before the Hookslide show tonight:
I would suggest that this is the least flattering photo of me ever taken, but I know there are people out there who would take that as a challenge.
That's me getting close to finishing the front of the fair isle pullover I'm making for the Fairy Godchild. The sleeves and back are already done, so maybe I can wrap this one up soon. I think I converted at least one person to Addi Turbo needles.
The show was excellent; Sarah ended up on stage at the end for a limbo contest. No actual winner was declared, but she totally had it. I liked the venue. Dennis and I are looking forward to being able to go to shows in Santa Cruz and Monterey once we move to the south bay. Which, yeah...I'm way behind on that whole packing thing.
It was a very good day, although I am now exhausted. Ryan, Sarah, and I went to the kid service at St. Ned's, mostly because it worked with our schedule, and it was pronounced 'not boring' so yay. Then the drive to Monterey to go to the aquarium. We had borrowed some member guest passes, which not only got us in free, it got us in the cool people entrance and out of the gigantic line.
The aquarium rocked as always; it kind of freaks me out to think about all the stuff in the ocean that we don't even know about, and how insanely bizarre so much of what we do know about is. I kept thinking back to the line from the eucharistic prayer, "Holy and gracious Father: In your infinite love you made us for yourself," - I like the idea of a God who also made jellyfish for himself. And manta rays and weird coral things.
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