I Can't Believe I Read the WHOLE Thing

I had grand plans of super-cleaning my house this weekend in preparation for the Greatest Halloween Party Ever, but since Todd was feeling kind of sickly, I couldn't be bustling around the house making a lot of noise, could I? Of COURSE not. What kind of wife do you think I am?

So, instead of cleaning, I finished up Breaking Dawn, which concluded my whirlwind reading of the ENTIRE Twilight series, which I started on Tuesday. As in, five days before I finished them. All four books.

I feel vaguely embarassed by this, like I spent the weekend doing something shameful. Like surfing the 'net for porn, or campaigning for McCain or something.

But I have to say this: I loved, loved, LOVED those darn books. The teenage angst! The overly dramatic heartbreak! The barely-hidden message of morality! The vampires! The werewolves!

Oh, and I wish I was named Bella. I may have a child soon, just to name her Bella.

Now I'm totally all geeked-up and anxious for the movie, which comes out November 21, not that I checked or anything. I am SO making Little go with me for opening night. I might even wear fangs.



And in case you thought I spent the whole weekend with no intellectual stimulation, never fear, I rounded out my Sunday with The Incredible Hulk, Edward Norton version. And as much as I love me some Edward Norton, it still doesn't stand up to the wonderful Eddie's father himself, Bill Bixby.

Crap, I guess I have to go back to being an adult tomorrow.

I Should Have Just Walked

When I first started riding the bus to work, the "31" bus route was a nice, relaxing ride from Frankfort Avenue to the Hall of Justice. I could knit, read a book, and just ease into my day.

Well, no more.

It's not that I didn't see it coming. Some months ago, I started riding the "19" bus because the "31" was getting a little crowded.
This morning, I arrived at the bus stop with time to spare, (I didn't even have to drive my car to the stop and screech into a parking spot next to it) and sat for a minute, then saw my bus coming toward me.

Unfortunately, my bus had a sign flashing, "Sorry -- Out of Service." That sucker just drove right past me without so much as a little slow down or wave. And there were people on it! I know they were there, those tinted windows can't fool me.

So I waited, and before long, here comes the "31." It stopped, and I got on . . . along with approximately five hundred million and three other people. There might have been five hundred million and four, or five, but I couldn't see all the way to the back of the bus because around four hundred million of the passengers were standing up in the aisle.

I scrinched myself into a spot where I could balance on my left pinky toe, as long as I lifted my right foot four inches off the ground and mushed it into my left leg, reached my left arm over four people to grip the pole about nine feet off the ground, perched my right arm approximately seven inches behind and to the right of me, and draped my purse, gym bag, and lunch bag over my right index finger.

Oh, and held my breath.

Every time we stopped, started, or went around a curve, I had to tense every muscle in my body, shift my weight to the toe next to my left pinky toe, and pray that the polish from my last pedicure would hold me up.

I knew things were getting bad when the young girl in a wheelchair said, "Heck, all we need now is some BLIND person to try to get on with a DOG!"

AND . . . the next stop was the blind school, where, indeed, some poor blind person (with some super-cool facial piercings) and his dog got on.

As soon as the people in front saw him, someone yelled out, "We can make room for the dog, but not you!"

Yeah. Maybe Todd was on to something with the whole bike-riding thing.

101 Things -- The Second 100 Days

Whew! It's a little dusty around here. I've been a very bad blogger, but wanted to pop because it's time for another 101 Things update. So, here we go . . .

Read at least 4 non-fiction books in 2008. I read The Center Cannot Hold, which was absolutely fascinating if you are at all interested in mental ilness. Persepolis was quite a departure from my normal reading material, since it was not only non-fiction, but was in a graphic format. I liked it, and it went very quickly. The Nine was an excellent picture of the Supreme Court which clarified a lot of issues for me. Mockingbird, a biography of Harper Lee, made me very sad, and I think I'm going to have to read a biography of Truman Capote next. I could recommend all four books.

Read a book to learn more about US history. I'm going to count The Nine as fulfilling this category, although I think I'll try to read something else, too. This book really cleared some things up that have been confusing for me since law school, and I think it would be equally interesting for a non-lawyer. It's worth reading for the insights into Sandra Day O'Connor's personality.

Enter something in the State Fair. Well, I entered three somethings. That's all I have to say about that.

Make mint julep liqeur. It's finished and sitting in my liquor cabinet. I'm trying to wait until Derby next year to drink it, but it's very tempting.

Play in my church orchestra. Yay! I've done this twice, which I think makes me a regular member. It's fantastically fun for me to pretend to be a real violin player.

Be a Big Sister for at least six months. Little and I are still truckin' along, having a good time. She has been a wonderful addition to my life.

I was feeling like a 101 Things slacker, but that's actually quite a few things marked off. Honestly, though, I think I've done all the easy stuff, and I'm going to have to put some more effort into the next 100 days . . . especially with those pesky 10 weight loss items.

You're going to see a return to regular blogging around here in the coming weeks. I decided that while I'm not ready this year for NaNoWriMo, I'm going to do the blogging portion of the contest, which means I have to blog EVERY DAY in November. You may get tired of seeing me by the end of the month!

A Note From the Kentucky Coast

A few years ago, Todd and I took what turned out to be one of my all-time favorite vacations, to Seattle, the San Juan Islands, and Mt. Rainier (Todd doesn't go to vacations with just ONE destination. Does this really surprise you?).

For some reason, ever since I was about high school or maybe college-age, I had just KNOWN, deep in my heart, that Seattle was a very cool place to be. Turns out, I was totally right, and I still say that if I ever win the lottery or otherwise become suddenly wealthy, I am moving there, STAT.

But -- this post is not about the many cool things about Seattle, it is about one very uncool thing that we encountered there.

We stayed in a cool (of course) hotel in the University District, which had a breakfast buffet every morning in the room that turned into a jazz club at night (cool, huh?). One morning, I was sitting there, eating my hard-boiled egg, and waiting for Todd, who was doing something obscene, like jogging, or something. I'm sure I was reading a book, and was in no way looking to make friends with anyone.

Unfortunately for me, I chose a table next to some woman from Idaho who was in town visiting her son at the University of Washington. She was, apparently, looking to make friends, and chose me.

"So . . . where are you from?

"Kentucky," I replied, in what I hoped was my not-quite-unfriendly-but-definitely-not-friendly voice.

"Oh." (reflective pause) "Do you have JOBS?"

Seriously. Do we have jobs? Like, where we wear shoes?

The conversation did not improve from there, and in fact deteriorated to the point at which Idaho lady very earnestly inquired as to whether we expected to suffer damage from the hurricane which was, at that time, pounding the East coast. You know the East coast, right? The one that ISN'T ANYWHERE NEAR KENTUCKY? (Actually, through the whole trip, we encountered similar people who, upon hearing we were from Kentucky, would say things like, "OH! I have a friend in Atlanta, do you know her?")

I'm sure by now, if you're even still reading, you're wondering what the hell this has to do with anything at all. Well, believe it or not, it is TOTALLY relevant, because last week, Hurricane Ike completely lost it's little hurricane mind, and blew all the way up to KENTUCKY, into Louisville, and through my little street, and knocked my power out FOR A WHOLE WEEK. That's seven days, folks, and I had to count them all without the benefit of lights, air conditioning, or a COMPUTER.

So, Idaho lady, I humbly apologize for making fun of you and your silly hurricane question for three solid years. That was TOTALLY my bad.

Things I Wouldn't Know If I Didn't Have Little

I'm sure you will be glad to know that in the time since my last post, I have not been just LAZING around doing nothing. Nope, I have been learning lots of cool stuff.

For instance, I learned that Miley Cyrus made 2.1 million dollars last year, and the only reason that she didn't make the 7 million that the kids from High School Musical made is that unlike those ho-bags, she doesn't debase herself doing endorsements and ads for various products.

I also learned that it has now been comfirmed -- CONFIRMED, I tell you -- that "7 Things I Hate About You" is, indeed about Miley Cyrus' ex-boyfriend Nick Jonas. This is obvious, of course, to anyone who has seen the video and noted that the dog tags she is wearing are actually Nick's diabetes alert tags.

I learned that thinking about a teenage singing sensation wearing the diabetes alert tags of her singing sensation boyfriend, in lieu of something passe like a class ring, just gets funnier and funner the more you think about it.

I learned that when hanging out with a 12-year-old friend, sometimes you will go see movies that you wouldn't ordinarily see, like maybe, oh, I don't know . . . HOUSEBUNNY . . . and you will find that the movie is actually hilarious (even funnier than diabetes alert tags) and that you laugh longer and louder than the actual 12-year-old.

I tell you what, I can feel myself getting cooler the longer I hang out with that kid.

Bless Our Hearts

Just as soon as Olympic-fever subsides, I get caught up in a new obsession: the Democratic convention.

Hated Hillary's speech, loved Bill's, thought Michelle's was very solid (and her family frighteningly Camelot-like), and teared up to Joe Biden's son. Right now, I'm listening to poor ol' Al Gore while blogging.

Poor ol' Al. I can't seem to say his name without putting "poor ol'" in front of it. (Kind of like I can't talk about my niece Maddie without adding, "Bless her heart." She just seems to require a bit of extra blessing. Bless her heart.)

Poor ol' Al is that quintessential uncle that everyone has -- the one who is just so damn nice, and gives you such nice presents, that you desperately WANT to be interested in what he's saying, but blast it all, he's just . . . well, boring. Bless his heart.

One of the reasons I think of him as "poor ol'" is that for him, it must be extra heart-breaking to think of how close he came to winning, and how close we all came to NOT being in a senseless and endless war, to NOT worrying incessantly about gas prices and budget cuts.

Seriously, it'll still break your heart if you think about it too much.

Something else that broke my heart today? The elderly lady with dementia who was in court trying to get back the money she posted for her granddaughter's bond. I'm sure you can guess that granddaughter skipped out and left her high and dry. The worst was when the judge asked her how much it was, and she said, "One hundred and FOUR dollars," in such a reverent and awe-stricken voice that you just knew that $104 meant something necessary and unattainable to her.

I guess that's the place we're all in now, where a lost $104 dollars may mean not having luxuries like dinners out, or it may mean not having necessities -- like dinner.

It's a fascinating and exciting time; tonight we will see the first African-American presidential candidate nominated by a major party. Tonight is the beginning of our chance to make up for the past eight years. I hope everyone is watching. I know I will be, and I will be thinking about that one hundred and FOUR dollars the whole time.

Reflections on the Ky State Fair

Oh, Kentucky State Fair, how I love you. You come around every year, faithfully, and give me new things to think about. Here's this year's Top Ten:

1. Whoever's idea it was to shut down the MAIN GATE to the fair at 5:00 p.m. on what would probably be the busiest day of the whole shebang is going straight to hell. I am so not kidding.

2. Bunnies are universally cute, but ANGORA bunnies -- with their slightly disheveled, prom-queen-the-day-after look -- are the absolute cutest.

3. Some people, although they deserve at least an Honorable Mention for their Caramel Banana Jam and their Tawny Port Wine Jelly, AND their fair isle knitted Christmas stocking, get nothing, and that is sad.

4. Other people, who sweep ALL the jam and jelly and fruit and vegetable categories, might want to give someone else a chance at some point. And I don't care what the rules say, if your address is Charlestown, INDIANA, you might REALLY want to step aside.

5. While we're on the subject of Christmas, I have seen what I want from Santa next year, and it is a Nigerian Dwarf Goat. I will love it and pet it and call it George.

6. In some parts of the state, mullets are still in, as are mohawks.

7. Babies, by which I mean those folk under the age at which they can stand unassisted, really should not be at loud beer tents, performing their first table dance to "Brown Eyed Girl" at 11:00 p.m. Nor should they be encouraged to raise their tiny little fists in the air to ANY tune by Hank Williams, Jr.

8. If I can see your ass poking out from under your clothing, and you are standing straight up, you are not wearing a skirt. That is a belt.

9. Gold lame dresses and gold high heels are NEVER appropriate for a state fair. On the other hand, RED COWBOY BOOTS have been confirmed to be most fashionable, even in August with a mini-skirt.

10. I'm serious about the cowboy boots.