These are the books I have packed to read in Las Vegas, primarily because I've already bought them, and feel I should read them already:
To Kill a Mockingbird
In Cold Blood
Mrs. Dalloway
The Gifted & Talented Adult: Unlocking Everyday Genius
This is what I will pick up at the airport and actually read in Las Vegas:
Vanity Fair
US Weekly
Trashy chick lit in which our heroine loses her job/a lot of weight/a fiance/etc, sleeps with the wrong guy, then finds happiness in the form of the nice and surprisingly gorgeous guy who's been there ALL ALONG and totally loves her.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
"What, am I made of NIPPLES?"
My darling friend Amanda told me that she recently learned that this phrase is a favorite of her (brilliant) mother's. One she's been known to utter when people are bugging her, hounding her, needing her in an overwhelming way, perhaps.
I didn't truly feel the impact of its meaning until today.
Today, after over seven hours of nonstop calls, emails, meetings, and people just "popping in" my office, I was finally sitting down to eat a cold (as in, formerly warm) lunch at, oh, 4:30? And suddenly realized that I was starving, I really had to pee, and my voicemail light was blinking insistently. I couldn't figure out what to do first.
Ultimately I ended up shoveling food in my mouth while yet another person just "popped in" my office, then running to the bathroom (still chewing) as soon as she left. I got back, considered the Blinking Light of Doom and was totally about to listen to my messages when the phone rang. After swearing with my mouth full, I picked it up and the voice on the other end goes,
"I'm stalking you HA HA HAAAAA! Did you get my message we need to go over this thing and I have questions for you do you have a sec?"
Um,
NO!!!
What, am I made of NIPPLES????
I didn't truly feel the impact of its meaning until today.
Today, after over seven hours of nonstop calls, emails, meetings, and people just "popping in" my office, I was finally sitting down to eat a cold (as in, formerly warm) lunch at, oh, 4:30? And suddenly realized that I was starving, I really had to pee, and my voicemail light was blinking insistently. I couldn't figure out what to do first.
Ultimately I ended up shoveling food in my mouth while yet another person just "popped in" my office, then running to the bathroom (still chewing) as soon as she left. I got back, considered the Blinking Light of Doom and was totally about to listen to my messages when the phone rang. After swearing with my mouth full, I picked it up and the voice on the other end goes,
"I'm stalking you HA HA HAAAAA! Did you get my message we need to go over this thing and I have questions for you do you have a sec?"
Um,
NO!!!
What, am I made of NIPPLES????
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Stevens Point
I met someone recently who told me she was from Stevens Point, Wisconsin and unwittingly unlocked a floodgate on my childhood memories.
As a young violinist, I used to go to Stevens Point in the summer with my mom for Suzuki Camp. We'd stay in a dorm room at the university and eat in the dining hall and go to violin lessons and practice pretty much all day and all night long.
I feel like I can remember every detail of those trips: how hard I practiced, and how desperately I wanted the approval of my teachers and to be a Violin Superstar. The time we road-tripped with my friend Jason and his mom and she was driving all crazy and tailgating and scaring my mom to death. The friends I made from Wisconsin and Georgia and Tennessee and all over, and the letters we'd exchange after camp was over. The random talent show night where some guys did a skit to either "Mr. Roboto" or "She Blinded Me With Science" and it was, like, so cool. The dance we had one year at the end of the week, and dancing crazy to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and wistfully watching the older, 13 and 14-year-old kids slow-dancing to "Never Tear You Apart" (a song my friend Carrie-from-Atlanta and I agreed was, without question, the Best Song Ever).
I remember the recital in Quant Gym (is that the name? it seems like it is) where all the most advanced kids got to play solos and the rest of us felt cool just to be good enough to play in the Fiocco Allegro finale. The year Dr. Suzuki himself came and played and was so small and fragile-looking and funny and my mom bought me a sweatshirt with a quote of his on it that said, "When love is deep, much can be accomplished."
The first string cheese I ever had was in Stevens Point. I also got this t-shirt from my violin teacher that said, "Point Beer. It's not just for breakfast anymore." I thought it was hilarious. At, you know, age 10.
Throughout it all, I remember the time with my mom.
My mom used to always take me to this amazing doll shop in Stevens Point and get me a birthday present: at least one book of fancy paper dolls and a really nice doll. I got two Madame Alexanders and a Sasha doll over the years, and probably still have my Vivien Leigh paperdolls somewhere (I knew the costumes from all of her movies before ever seeing one of them). I loved the dolls because they were so, so beautiful, and I loved my mom for gifting me with such a special treat.
The last year I went I was actually too old for dolls, but we went and got one anyway. My new best friends (I always made friends immediately at violin camp and was quite the little ring leader) gave me such a hard time for having it, but I loved that thing defiantly. It was a big cuddly baby doll with a pink gingham dress and matching bonnet, with patent leather mary-janes and black hair and blue eyes and I named her Diana. She's still at my parents' house somewhere.
As a young violinist, I used to go to Stevens Point in the summer with my mom for Suzuki Camp. We'd stay in a dorm room at the university and eat in the dining hall and go to violin lessons and practice pretty much all day and all night long.
I feel like I can remember every detail of those trips: how hard I practiced, and how desperately I wanted the approval of my teachers and to be a Violin Superstar. The time we road-tripped with my friend Jason and his mom and she was driving all crazy and tailgating and scaring my mom to death. The friends I made from Wisconsin and Georgia and Tennessee and all over, and the letters we'd exchange after camp was over. The random talent show night where some guys did a skit to either "Mr. Roboto" or "She Blinded Me With Science" and it was, like, so cool. The dance we had one year at the end of the week, and dancing crazy to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and wistfully watching the older, 13 and 14-year-old kids slow-dancing to "Never Tear You Apart" (a song my friend Carrie-from-Atlanta and I agreed was, without question, the Best Song Ever).
I remember the recital in Quant Gym (is that the name? it seems like it is) where all the most advanced kids got to play solos and the rest of us felt cool just to be good enough to play in the Fiocco Allegro finale. The year Dr. Suzuki himself came and played and was so small and fragile-looking and funny and my mom bought me a sweatshirt with a quote of his on it that said, "When love is deep, much can be accomplished."
The first string cheese I ever had was in Stevens Point. I also got this t-shirt from my violin teacher that said, "Point Beer. It's not just for breakfast anymore." I thought it was hilarious. At, you know, age 10.
Throughout it all, I remember the time with my mom.
My mom used to always take me to this amazing doll shop in Stevens Point and get me a birthday present: at least one book of fancy paper dolls and a really nice doll. I got two Madame Alexanders and a Sasha doll over the years, and probably still have my Vivien Leigh paperdolls somewhere (I knew the costumes from all of her movies before ever seeing one of them). I loved the dolls because they were so, so beautiful, and I loved my mom for gifting me with such a special treat.
The last year I went I was actually too old for dolls, but we went and got one anyway. My new best friends (I always made friends immediately at violin camp and was quite the little ring leader) gave me such a hard time for having it, but I loved that thing defiantly. It was a big cuddly baby doll with a pink gingham dress and matching bonnet, with patent leather mary-janes and black hair and blue eyes and I named her Diana. She's still at my parents' house somewhere.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
to do with the 'do
I finally made an appointment to get my hair done. It's been, like, forever since I've had it cut or colored. Actually, I got my bangs trimmed in mid-February, and before that...end of December. That's how long it's been. It's TIME.
The problem is, I have no idea what to do with the 'do next. I generally like keeping it short, but I'm thinking I might like to grow it for while. Get it past my collar & see what happens. Maybe get it to the point where my pony tail isn't simply a mess of rubber band with a tiny tuft of hair poking out.
And what about the color? Do I go lighter for summer? Or do I continue with the darker color I've come to enjoy so much?
Plus, there are short-term and long-term goals to think about here. If I want to keep growing it, for example, then how do I get a cool and sassy cut today that will grow into something pretty tomorrow? On the flip side, I LIKE short hair, I look good in short hair, and there's really no chance of it getting all that long before it drives me crazy and I hack it all off anyway. Gah!
I know, I put way too much thought into this. I JUST WANT IT TO BE PRETTY.
So I did a super-quick mockup of potential hairstyles using one of those Japanese anime-inspired doll-making websites. What do YOU think?
The problem is, I have no idea what to do with the 'do next. I generally like keeping it short, but I'm thinking I might like to grow it for while. Get it past my collar & see what happens. Maybe get it to the point where my pony tail isn't simply a mess of rubber band with a tiny tuft of hair poking out.
And what about the color? Do I go lighter for summer? Or do I continue with the darker color I've come to enjoy so much?
Plus, there are short-term and long-term goals to think about here. If I want to keep growing it, for example, then how do I get a cool and sassy cut today that will grow into something pretty tomorrow? On the flip side, I LIKE short hair, I look good in short hair, and there's really no chance of it getting all that long before it drives me crazy and I hack it all off anyway. Gah!
I know, I put way too much thought into this. I JUST WANT IT TO BE PRETTY.
So I did a super-quick mockup of potential hairstyles using one of those Japanese anime-inspired doll-making websites. What do YOU think?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
the sun hates me
Well, the snowboarding trip was cancelled, so I can fret on that dilemma another time. I think I'm throwing a tea party on that day instead.
THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is something I am AWESOME at. Bring on the tiny sandwiches and cupcakes! Set the prettiest table you've ever seen! Pick just the right background music (60's defiant girl pop) for your guests!
It's funny the things that strike fear into the hearts of some and is easy as pie for others. And vice versa. Incidentally, I actually make really delicious pie--with crust from scratch--and yet I know lots of people who can ride a mountain all day who would barely know what to do with a frozen Sara Lee and tremble at the thought of hosting a party. So there ya go.
Speaking of things I'm good at, I just turned in an outline for a class I'm teaching in a couple weeks on Advanced Powerpoint, and as I turned it in I thought, "Damn. I am so good at this shit." It doesn't happen all that often, and it's nice, you know? Plus, I love teaching. I am so looking forward to this class.
In other news, I am sunBURNED. I hate my sunburn almost as much as the sun hates me, evidently. mAc and I spent all day Sunday waterproofing our new outdoor furniture and getting started on what will become the coolest tiki bar EVER. The day itself was lovely and productive. My back and shoulders are a lovely shade of magenta. And I even brought spf 45 outside with me, but just forgot to put it on until it was too late. Dumb. And also painful.
THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is something I am AWESOME at. Bring on the tiny sandwiches and cupcakes! Set the prettiest table you've ever seen! Pick just the right background music (60's defiant girl pop) for your guests!
It's funny the things that strike fear into the hearts of some and is easy as pie for others. And vice versa. Incidentally, I actually make really delicious pie--with crust from scratch--and yet I know lots of people who can ride a mountain all day who would barely know what to do with a frozen Sara Lee and tremble at the thought of hosting a party. So there ya go.
Speaking of things I'm good at, I just turned in an outline for a class I'm teaching in a couple weeks on Advanced Powerpoint, and as I turned it in I thought, "Damn. I am so good at this shit." It doesn't happen all that often, and it's nice, you know? Plus, I love teaching. I am so looking forward to this class.
In other news, I am sunBURNED. I hate my sunburn almost as much as the sun hates me, evidently. mAc and I spent all day Sunday waterproofing our new outdoor furniture and getting started on what will become the coolest tiki bar EVER. The day itself was lovely and productive. My back and shoulders are a lovely shade of magenta. And I even brought spf 45 outside with me, but just forgot to put it on until it was too late. Dumb. And also painful.
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