Same old

Tonight, we are hanging around and watching The Mummy. It's cheesy, but I like that film. Archaeology and action.

I did homework yesterday and today. Not as much as I should have, but it was a start. Now I'll just bury myself all this week.

Laurel came over for breakfast this morning. It was good to see her. I hope to see her more this week.

We visited Parkside Chapel with Debbie and Jerry for church. The less said about that, the better.

I'm leaving again, early tomorrow morning. I will the week as long as I can convince myself of the value of (1) inertial guidance and (2) church history. Or rather, I truly recognize their instrinsic value, but am not necessarily convinced of the value of my being involved with them. *sigh*

Touchy was mewling a minute ago. Now he is lying on the floor with his paws in the air and his plump furry white tummy exposed, having exhausted himself playing with his catnip-stuffed fishie toy.

Anyway, Thanksgiving came and went. I am fairly ambiguous about this most North American of holidays; while I appreciate the time off (four whole days, put together!), I don't have a lot of sentimental attachment to the concept. I'm sure that I must have had some celebration of Thanksgiving as a child, but I truly don't remember any. I clearly recall Christmas, New Year, and Easter holidays, and even some July 4th parties with some other US expats, but Thanksgiving draws a blank for me. I do remember enjoying such times with the family in the US during high school, but after Grandma and Grandpa passed away, they seemed less special. Now, my ideal Thanksgiving Day would involve solitude, a good book in a warm spot, and some freshly-made Kraft macaroni and cheese; for these things I would be truly thankful! In reality, however, I have to take what I can get.

Jeff and I hosted the event at our new house, and the Feely clan (Debbie and Jerry; Olaf and Rosalee; Rob and Candace) were in attendance. We spent the morning and afternoon cleaning and setting up the house and yard (I dug a few holes). My wonderfully insightful husband realized soon after our marriage that Deb's idea of Thanksgiving dinner was along the lines of Everybody Make Your Own Peanut Butter Sandwich and Leave the Dirty Knife in the Sink When You're Done, and so he has never pressured me to be involved in elaborate and traditional food preparation. He roasted an excellent turkey our first Thanksgiving together. This year, he thoughtfully arranged for his mom and his grandmother to bring several side dishes, and he himself did the (huge) turkey and stuffing again. I just sat around and attempted to be pleasant, and refrained from uttering dark and foreboding commentary on: gluttony, Demeter and/or pagan harvest and fertility rituals, and/or the implicit glorification of the Euro-centric oppressors' eventual betrayal of the indigenous people. Because of my exemplary behavior, I didn't even have to do the dishes afterward. I was so tired at the end of the evening. Cleaning and being polite always take a lot out of me, probably because, as far as I can determine, neither of them come naturally to me.

I got an opportunity to reflect once again on how different my family is from Jeff's. Thanksgiving with my family would be a bit wild and crazy. Conversation would be lively, continuous, and occasionally controversial, featuring much opining and reminiscing about things that nobody but we would find even comprehensible, and at some point during the meal, at least one person's silverware (or even entire plate) would be removed from the table and hidden somewhere, to the amusement of everyone except the victim, of course. The food is excellent and yummy, and there is probably some experimental dish, as well as food made expressly for anyone with unusual needs, such as vegetarian preference or following of Jewish dietary law. After the feast, we'd engage in some noisy and competitive game-playing, most likely Scrabble, and then eat pie (I'd probably bemoan the fact that my pastry crusts are always tough, and my pie-queen mom would assure me that the trick is to use REALLY COLD WATER and handle it barely at all). After the pie, we'd retire to the family room to do some traditional holiday activity like watching the Animaniacs Christmas special or listening to Stan Freberg's "Green Christmas" recording. There'd be knitting, tea and coffee, and a classic movie to top it off.

By contrast, the Feely Thanksgiving is extremely genteel. I have it on good authority that controversy is strictly frowned upon, and so conversation hovers just barely to the right of discussing the weather. [God bless Candace for managing to be charming and interesting without raising a single eyebrow!] The food is predictably high in quality and absent of innovation. I'm guessing that there will ALWAYS be Jell-O, in one form or another. After eating, everyone sits around, and people might speak quietly for a time if the silence gets too deafening. Competition is probably strictly frowned upon, so, no games. There is some talk of watching a movie, but no one quite decides to do it (I'm guessing that asserting one's entertainment preferences is strictly frowned upon). After a particularly awkward silence, someone decides it is time for pie. The pie is generally tasty, and after that, everyone goes home to feel good about the giving of thanks. People are very kind and helpful about cleaning up and stuff, so it's quite pleasant to be the host of such a celebration.

If/when Jeff and I have children, I wonder what kind of family environment we'll create, and how our traditional celebrations will turn out. Will we meld what we've each received from our respective families? Will we come up with something completely different?

Finally!

We finally got our cable internet installed and working today! We are WIRED.

We are settling into our new house. It is very fresh and nice. It is BIG. It didn't seem so big when we looked at the model home, but now I really don't know what to do with all the space. Mopping the kitchen floor, for example, is a standard chore that needs to be done on occasion, but it's different when one's kitchen is the size of a European principality. If one happens to leave one's reading book in the bedroom, it's no big deal, except that going to fetch it involves a trek upstairs and down the hall that many a Himalayan sherpa would find daunting. *sigh*
The house is well-lit, though, so that is nice. There are all these rooms, wanting to be decorated. I am researching with books and magazines, and looking at paint samples, but the task is overwhelming. Some people (like, say, Jeff) might think the challenge of decorating a nice house and yard is highly desirable, but I just think it's tiresome. A very nice person gave us a gift certificate at a nursery, for the purpose of buying a tree for the front yard, and it stressed me out to have to go and try to choose one. I don't know or care much about yard trees (unless they involve guavas). Obviously, my Hw-1 (Housewife) gene is recessive.

We watched Empire Records and The Great Muppet Caper tonight.

On the books for tomorrow:
Church
Laundry
Put away and organize clothing
Clean downstairs
Pack for next week
School work

pure admiration

I discovered yesterday that as of Monday, Condoleeza Rice is 51 years old. I don’t make it a habit to judge people based on peripherals such as age (unless the person in question is patently stupid due to youth), physical appearance, sex, etc. But I do have to say that Condi would never pass for 51, in my book. 31, maybe. The woman is a fox!! Despite a life that must have one of the highest stress levels on the planet, she really takes care of herself.

On a non-shallow level: While Madame Secretary of State Rice tends to be a tad too hawkish for my taste, and I don’t love all of her policies and stuff, I really do admire her for her obvious intelligence and professionalism. Like her or not, you have to admit that she kicks some serious tail!

An Open Letter to Rude and/or Stupid Drivers

Dear Driver(s),

When you are rude and/or stupid on the road, you are an unattractive person who subtracts from, rather than contributes to, society and the human race. I hope that you die soon, and painfully, and due to your own horrendous driving, and spend the rest of eternity stewing in a particularly unpleasant spot in hell.

Utterly Sincerely,
Me

Update

I haven’t had much occasion to post since last week. I spent last Thursday and Friday down in the Orange County area, working and spending time with people. Friday night, I drove (it was horrible) up to Visalia, and spent the weekend with Jeff and my schoolwork. It didn’t help that I was unmotivated to seek out the deeper mysteries of the patristics...

I arose EARLY on Monday morning, and spent 4 hours driving back south. I’ve been working and studying, and spending my nights with my dear Elizabeth. I plan to return to Visalia on Thursday evening (and hope that the traffic will be better than on a Friday night).

While driving up and down and all around the southern half of California, I listen to music. It’s mostly punk (right now, Blink-182, Fall Out Boy, Bowling for Soup, New Found Glory), with some assorted other stuff (No Doubt, baroque recordings, and even Five Iron Frenzy when I am too lazy to change out Jeff’s CDs). I wish I knew where in all our stuff my Pirates of Penzance recording is. I could really use some Gilbert and Sullivan sing-along.

Interesting Tidbit

Several people have shared with me that they are usually intimidated by long blog posts. I’m guessing that if I put the same amount of information in several shorter posts, people like it better. I find this interesting, because I like long posts (although I do appreciate the text being broken into paragraphs and such, as appropriate), both reading and writing them. If I publish or read a short post, it feels... inadequate. I like substance in my writing. Bite me, Hemingway.

Anyway, this is short. I really dislike dry weather. I hate what it does to my hair, my skin, my eyes, and my clothes. I especially hate how everything with even a hint of metal becomes the conduit of Potential Death from Static Electrical Shock. Ow! It HURTS.

I don't mind humidity. In fact, I kind of like it. I've never understood why people complain about hot weather in the desert, but then amend it hastily with, "...but at least it's a DRY heat." In my eyes, the dryness doesn't make it any better. Not that there's anything wrong with hot weather to begin with.

Speaking of weather, you know what I hate? Sun showers. Those happen when the sun is shining all around you, and the sky may even be mostly blue, but it's still raining lightly. Some people claim to like sun showers, and think they're pretty, but I've always disliked them. They are Way Messed Up.

Dear Readers, you may be surprised to discover that I am considered to be at least adequate at many activities. Parallel parking, however, is not among these things.

And that is the truth.

I've had it up to here

My philosophy of life is such that I'm something of a pessimist, and don't expect a lot out of existence. As far as I'm concerned, the best you can do on any given morning is sit up, take note that you are still alive, put on your favorite pair of Hello Kitty undies to give you that extra secret oomph, and just face the day as it comes. Sadly, one of those aforementioned undies began to unravel in the washing machine yesterday. How now shall I live? I'm thinking of making my own list of life's little indignities. Legally licensed Sanrio branded underwear is expensive.

Anyone checking jokerz's blog will know that our paperwork was in jeopardy yet again yesterday. We have survived, however, and are cleared to close and move in tomorrow. I ought to be excited, but I'm not-- I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Come on, Hello Kitty (or what's left of you), work for me!!

Speaking of work, I'm beginning lesson plans for classes I hope to teach next winter and spring. Pray that everything will work out, so that I can fulfill my dream of teaching and still obtain income. Stupid income.

And speaking of income, I think I'm going to be able to work a few days this week. Odd that I'm excited to go back to slaving for The Corporation, but the less I say about that the better (see: Dooced, but be cautioned regarding possibly objectionable language).

Okay, now I'm going to bed, to prepare for a day of certain setbacks and eventual moving of heavy objects, plus a 200-mile drive. Whee.

Another Quiz

1. What is your occupation? Engineer. *sigh*
2. What color is your underwear? Usually white.
3. What are you listening to right now? Blink-182, “Story of a Lonely Guy”. Yes, my Blink obsession continues…
4. What was the last thing you ate? Lemon cream cheese pie from Marie Callendar's.
5. Do you wish on stars? No.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Lapis lazuli or midnight blue.
7. How is the weather right now? Cold but usually sunny.
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Mumsie.
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Got it from the Devil’s blog (which I finally found), so yes. PS. Some of my answers are the same as hers, but it is a coincidence; I didn't mean to copy!
10. How old are you today? As Dan says, it’s not the age that counts, it’s the mileage. Anyway, I feel and look as though I’m in my early 20s, but my mileage puts me around 40, I think. C’est la vie.
11. Favorite drink? Diet Coke or good iced tea. Alcohol-wise, Cointreau.
12. Favorite sport to watch? Dancesport or hockey.
13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes, it is currently red. I love it.
14. Do you wear contacts or glasses? Both, although not at the same time, of course.
15. There was not a question for this one. I will make one up: What store have you visited most recently? Lowe's.
16. Favorite month? Any time in the summer.
17. Favorite food? Wow, so many. Rice. Or a good baked sweet potato.
18. What was the last movie you watched? Ride the High Country.
19. Favorite day of the year? Don’t really care.
20. What do you do to vent anger? Rant.
21. Fall or Spring? Spring.
22. Hugs or kisses? Depends on who’s doling them out.
23. Cherry or Blueberry? Neither.
24. Do you want your friends to email you back? N/A. Although I'll be interested to see if anyone else does this quiz.
25. Who is most likely to respond? N/A.
26. Who is least likely to respond? N/A.
27. Living arrangements? Crashing with the in-laws while we wait for escrow to close on our house.
28. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday, when Touchy was MIA.
29. What is on the floor of your closet? I do not own a closet at this point in time.
30. Who is the friend you have had the longest? Kakak Dan and parents; I’ve known them since the day I was born.
31. What did you do last night? Watched The Outriders and Fox News; read books and surfed the internet.
32. Favorite smell? Ooo, so many. Baking bread; chocolate; franji pani; fresh-chopped green wood; that elusive tropically hot planty/earthy jungle smell.
33. What inspires you? Beautiful music.
34. What are you afraid of? Failure.
35. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? None.
36. Favorite car? Anything that won’t break down.
37. Favorite dog breed? I don’t care; keep the smelly things away from me.
38. Number of keys on your key ring? 3.
39. How many years at your current job? 5.5.
40. Favorite day of the week? Hard to say. Saturday, maybe.
41. How many provinces have you lived in? Indonesia: 2. US: 3.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I totally forgot another thing:

Yesterday (November 5) was the centennial of the birth of JOEL MCCREA. This multi-faceted actor may be my very favorite. He could do anything and make it look easy, which is probably why he was underrated and never received any awards. He did drama with Hitchcock, comedy with Preston Sturges, and Westerns with DeMille and Peckinpah. He started in bit parts at the end of the silent era, but quickly graduated to leading man and star status. He worked with (as mentioned above) some of the best directors, and opposite nearly all the top female stars of the era: Constance Bennett, Kay Francis, Dolores Del Rio, Fay Wray, Irene Dunne, Ginger Rogers, Barbara Stanwyck, Miriam Hopkins, Claudette Colbert, Joan Bennett, Frances Farmer, Merle Oberon, Sylvia Sidney, Loretta Young, Veronica Lake, Jean Arthur, Virginia Mayo, even Shirley Temple (he played her father, of course), Garbo (well, he had a bit role in her film Single Standard) and Marlene Dietrich (although his scenes in her film The Devil is a Woman were reshot with Cesar Romero in the released print); not to mention a host of lesser-known starlets. McCrea moved to making only Westerns in the mid-1940s, claiming he was more comfortable in them, and eventually retired to run his ranch in Southern California, emerging for a few more Western roles in the 1960s and 1970s. He had one of Hollywood's longest and most respected marriages, to actress Frances Dee, which lasted until his death in 1990.

I nearly forgot

This is the 400th anniversary of Guy Fawkes' Gunpowder Plot.

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November:
Gunpowder, treason, and plot."

Ah, yes, terrorism. Let us never forget the old adage that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Slightly. Better.

TOUCHY HAS BEEN FOUND.

Jeff found him in the garage, despite the fact that all four of us had checked the garage multiple times, and spent many minutes calling, "Touchy, here kitty kitty kitty!" ad infinitum. Touchy's fur is all dusty and dirty. I don't think he'll appreciate a bath, though.

I got Touchers to type this on Debbie's keyboard:
hgtm an

He's not feeling particularly eloquent tonight, I guess.

Worst. Day. Ever.

I suppose that someone, somewhere, has had a worse day (like, maybe, Job). However, this has been just a horrible day for me.

TOUCHY IS MISSING.

My darling kitty-cat went missing some time between 10 and 11:30 am. He has not been seen since. We don't know if he is hiding somewhere in the house, or if he somehow managed to slip outside, but he is gone, and I'm in a panic. I'm crying and imagining the worst possible scenarios. Has he wandered afar and been hit by a car? Or been kit-napped by cruel people who like to torture small animals? He has always been an indoor cat, since we've always lived in apartments, so he has no experience with the wide world, at least since we adopted him from the shelter three years ago. He is out in a strange neighborhood, and it's getting dark and cold outside.

There are several people that I should have called, to chat and check in, and I haven't. I can't read or watch TV or anything. All I can do is sit and stare, thinking about my cat, and then go outside and call for him for a bit. Augh! I'm seriously traumatized. I'm going to cry for a bit more.


Hobbes, Deb, Jeff, Touchy. One big happy family last Christmas. Now, we are missing our baby Touchers.

I did a bunch of quizzes from Liz's blog, and tried to post them, but Blogger didn't like the HTML tags, and it messed everything up so that I couldn't fix the HTML, even had I been so inclined.

So in real life, we are not having fun here in Visalia. The lender messed up our paperwork. They suck. Our move-in date has been delayed till next week. On the positive side, though, we are happy to be reunited with Hobbes and Touchy. Debbie and Jerry have been the soul of graciousness.

Laurel lent me a Georgette Heyer book to read. I like G. Heyer. She makes me laugh!

It's late, and Jerry is still up working on a program. I wish I had something to program. I suck. Seriously, it's so depressing to be stuck here, not able to go to work, as I have to be here to sign papers, and not able to do schoolwork, as all my books and materials are packed. All I can do is read fluffy books and amuse myself on the internet. I guess I'll learn some new skills and figure out how to market myself online.

Or maybe I'll go around to all of the places in the Central Valley where I filled out job applications, and personally yell at all of them for not responding to me. Idiots.

Moving Day

...came upon us, at last.

We survived.

We. Are. Tired. Mumsie came to help us finish up, though. She is the best!

We said goodbye to Amerige Pointe, Starbuck Street, and Fullerton.
We made peace with the fact that neither of us were bold enough to either whack the hateful little dogs next door, or at least inform their owner that we wanted to.
We had some rather nice, hardworking movers that wrapped up all of our earthly possessions and fit them inside of a moving van.

By the way, I said goodbye to my Civic Hybrid on Monday. Yes, we sold it. And I will never again allow myself to become emotionally involved with a car!

We are currently at Josh and Laurel's house, where we will spend the night. Laurel is making persimmon cookies. Interesting. Jeff and Josh are playing Halo.

Our house is on its way to being ready. We had the final inspection yesterday, but we haven't had confirmation of the city inspection. Until the city approves the building, we don't have an official address, and so we cannot set up our utilities. We are not yet sure when we will finally close on the house.

Tomorrow, we will head on up to Visalia ("We may not be much, but at least we're not Bakersfield!") and hope for the best. I can't wait to see my kitty cats again. They are staying with Grandma and Grandpa Feely until we can settle them into their new home.

Finally: Support the Capriccio Gelato Cafe, on Starbuck Street! It is between Fantastic Sam's and H&R Block. It just opened, and has unbelievably good and authentic Italian gelato. Jeff and I will not be there to support it anymore, so you all need to step up and keep the love flowing. For your next coffee date, forego the coffee and have gelato instead. Or guys, charm the ladies with your sophistication and cultural know-how, by treating them to a satisfying (and satisfyingly priced) little dish of this good stuff. Grazie!