I also have a +5 Bag of Holding.

More nerdily exciting news!

Like many geeks, I was puzzled that Chris Eccleston, the ninth Doctor Who, only stuck around for one season. That’s a pretty short run.

So I looked it up on the internets. When I found out why he’s no longer on the show, my head exploded into a thousand tiny bits.


Chris Eccleston stopped being Doctor Who so that he could take the lead in a remake of The Prisoner.
He is going to be Number 6.


Wow. Let me repeat: Wowwee wow wow wow.

For a level 17 geek such as myself, this is very, very exciting. Even if the remake is going to be more like the show 24 than the old show (I guess that means no man-eating weather balloons or penny-farthing bikes).

And for all of you who’ve read this and have no idea what I’m talking about, congratulations! You’re not a geek! You probably also went on a date before you were a freshman in college! Good for You! Now, please move. You and your normal social life are blocking the TV.

Footnote: I can feel that some of you are questioning… Kate, did you… did you photoshop the Village symbol on to the Tardis? Just for this post?

Yes. Yes I did.

Dear God!

Yesterday, when I got into work, my boss very excitedly told a co-worker and I that she brought something in for us – Friendship Bread. I thought, “Oh. Bread. Okay.”

But instead of handing us each a piece of a baked product, she gave us each a large, Ziploc bag, which was about one-third full of a creamy goo.*

Mine was dripping slightly.

She started excitedly giving us instructions about how you couldn’t put it in the fridge, and how we need to squeeze it once a day for eight days before we could bake it, and all I could think was “I’m holding a dripping bag of goo.”

She even had a photocopied handout with the instructions on it.

I don’t know about you, but in goo-related situations, my brain tends to shut down and go into panic mode. So instead of doing the polite thing (taking the bag home and throwing it away) all I could think about was having an un-refrigerated mass of yeast sitting on my desk all day.

No thanks.

So I did my best to fight the revulsion in my throat and gave the bag back to her, with some lame excuse about not baking in the summer.

She actually did have some of the finished product to share. It was a quick bread, which tasted like zucchini bread. Frankly, that’s not much of a payoff for fondling a warm goo-bag for a week. Why not just bake zucchini bread? What could possibly make someone try to foist this crap off on unsuspecting co-workers?

I feel kind of bad that I panicked and used bad manners, but what could I do? I think even Miss Manners has an exception for goo-related etiquette.


*For those of you with a strong stomach, the color and texture was like runny pus. See? See? You’d panic too!

At the barbeque, at the barbeque, at my house

This weekend we hosted a barbeque for a few friends to inaugurate our new and improved backyard. It was fun. We felt like real, live, grown-ups. Here are some highlights of the evening:

• I went inside for two seconds, and the sausages on the grill lit on fire in less than a minute. Well, that’s one way to get them to brown quickly. Luckily, I had poached them prior to putting them on the grill, so no one got trichinosis. I’m pleased to report that, despite the blaze, there were only four sausage casualties.
• Maddy got very excited at seeing so many people, which she indicated by sitting in the middle of everyone and barking once every nine seconds, until someone pet her.
• Roger also got very excited, which he indicated by peeing more and looking longingly at the food everyone was balancing on their laps.
• The Hezel-McCormick orzo salad was a big hit.
• I had a rousing game of “What celebrity does my friend Konrad look like?” with Konrad’s most excellent wife Nikki and Dan’s friend Leigh. It was a tie between a younger, Australian version of Val Kilmer, and an older, Australian version of Prince William.
• Bocce was played.

All in all, a great evening. Although any event that involves a cooler full of beer, Cornell chicken, and homemade sangria is bound to be a success in my book.

The Crystal Calls

Holy crap. Holy crap.

I just found out that they’re making a sequel to the Dark Crystal.

Holy crap.

If you’re as much of a geek as me*, then you are probably just as excited. At this point, I am in such shock that such a thing could happen that my brain has not fully processed the information.

Obviously, this is one of my all-time favorite movies. I saw it in the theater and I still remember getting vertigo at that first shot of Aughra’s observatory.

Anyway, now I have about a year and a half to hope that they don’t mess the sequel up. Cross your fingers for me.

*I’m just being polite here. It is not possible for you to be as much of a geek as me.

Payoff

SO finally, we are more or less done working on our yard for the summer. In case, you haven't seen our place, the yard was a dump when we moved in. Note the airplane pieces and the trailer full of junk.

I feel it is important to note that what you can't see is an enormous barn, also full of junk. So full that the previous owners built a lean-to for their snowmobiles.

Here's another picture, showing the excessive amount of pavement. When we moved in, our yard was about 85% paved.

So we set about fencing the yard, removing the lean-to, and getting rid of some of the pavement.

This is the yard after Dan and our friend John hacked it up with a jackhammer.

Then, we seeded the old driveway and grass came up.

As you can see, the dogs now have 74.6% more peeing and pooping space. Before, it was a bit like a prison yard, and we'd catch the dogs smoking, lifting weights, and giving each other tattoos. Now, they are super happy, which they have indicated by increasing their weewee output but 17%.

Like you even care.

It has been brought to my attention that I am not fulfilling the standard requirements for a personal blog. Specifically:

1. I do not post enough photos of funny things I saw on the web.
2. I use too many footnotes.*
3. I do not have enough posts with lists of things and poignant explanations of why that thing is important to me.

Sigh. Okay, I guess I’ll do a number three.

So, without further ado, here is a list of songs and/or albums, along with a note explaining which startlingly visceral memory each one evokes. Let’s get this over with, folks.

Rubber Soul, any song: reminds me of driving through the Adirondacks with Dan (my then not quite boyfriend) to Troy, NY to watch our friend Jonathan get married.

Simple Pleasures (Bobby McFerrin): Reminds me of driving between Tupper Lake and Lake Placid with the inimitable Sara Chan (Shultz) Parent, because it was one of only two tapes in her dad’s van.

Mr. Bojangles: Reminds me of the outside of the Middletown Hospital, where I was visiting my grandmother with pneumonia.

Mack the Knife (the Bobby Darin version): transports me to 4^th grade, the kitchen in our house, playing cards with my mom and dad and spinning 45’s (yes, you heard me, 45’s)

Georgia on my mind (Ray Charles): see above.

Teaser and the Firecat (Cat Stevens), any song: High school summer afternoon, laying in bed reading, with nothing to do except nap and listen to the birds outside. Could do with one of those right now.

The Juliet Letters (Elvis Costello), any track: Dan’s breathtakingly filthy first apartment.

Surfer Girl, Little Deuce Coupe, In My Room (Beach Boys, duh): Standing in my bedroom in 3^rd grade, playing “air keyboards” on my bed along to the songs, by myself. Yes, let’s not point out how pathetic that is. I know, folks. I know.

A Go Go (John Scofield) and The In Sound from Way Out (Beastie Boys): Strawberry Fields Music and Coffeehouse, Potsdam, NY, where I spent one year as a cashier. This one also is accompanied by the smell of hazelnut coffee and a faint jittery feeling.

Alright! Done! Get on with your day now!

* Hey, if it’s good enough for David Foster Wallace and Dave Eggers, two authors I never plan to read, then it’s good enough for me.

Teacher let the monkies out

Oh yes, the end of the school year. Finally.

Although I am not in school, and I don't have kids, I have looked forward to this day since last September. My morning commute goes right past an elementary school, you see.

Finally, finally, a reprieve from dumbass parent drivers and crossing guards.

The parents I can sort of deal with. Sure, they double-park. Sure, they would rather tie up traffic for minutes at a time to parallel park right in front of the school, rather than pull up to the curb 100 feet up the road. And yes, of course they open the driver's side door directly into oncoming traffic without looking first. Way to set an example for your kids, lady! Or guy!

These are mere mosquitoes buzzing about my consciousness. It's this one crossing guard that kills me.

For one thing, he looks like the mayor from Groundhog Day, only wearing a baseball cap instead of a top hat.

Also, he seems to have no concept of how crossing guards are supposed to do their job. Most guards stand in the center of the crosswalk and hold up a sign or a hand to stop traffic.

Not this guy. When he sees some kids coming, he waits for the light, and then just barges into the traffic lane and crosses the street with them. He doesn't hold up his hand or acknolwedge the cars in any way, except for to occasionally have a conversation with someone through a window.

I'm used to him, by now, but the first few times I saw him in action, I had no idea what to do. Do I keep driving? I have a green light! What the hell!

Now, I ignore him completely, but other folks who don't drive this way every day always get confused, especially if they're trying to turn on to the street where he's crossing. It holds up traffic for a few signal changes.

I have seriously considered calling the school and complaining, because frankly, what he does is completely unsafe. But that would instantly elevate me into grouchy old lady status, and I'm trying to put that off for another few years.