Can you keep it down, there are children trying to scream here!

A woman came in today looking for a certain parenting book, and I have to say that it's not a minute. too. soon. This is judging from the way her offspring bellowed and climbed and fought and screamed the entire time they were in here, while she ensconced herself in what appeared to be a cocoon of obliviousness.

Everyone is coming in to pick up holds and get DVDs for the long weekend and audiobooks for the long car rides. I myself am very excited to hit the road tomorrow and let the weekend of merriment and feasting begin. In the last few weeks I've been trying to eat better (read: less) and so my pants have gotten slighty looser just in time for that new-found space to be filled with pumpkin pie and yams and turkey-and-brie sandwiches. I am nothing if not a planner.

Good Thanksgiving updates:

The venue is being moved away from the potentially-smelly gym and into Grammy's house. Which means that we will all be very cozy and I will possibly not be able to bend my elbows and will instead ask the person across the table to please feed me.

I've been asked to bring a green vegetable and have decided on 101 Cookbooks' Golden-Crusted Brussels Sprouts--if you've never liked brussels sprouts, or if you've never tried them, this is the way to do it, I promise you. I'm going to up the ante though by adding crumbled bacon. Aw yeah.

The day after Thanksgiving, instead of participating in the Black Friday madness, I'll be knitting, eating, and choosing a hot spring to go soak my bloated carcass in. Doesn't that sound wonderful?

What are you most looking forward to this weekend?

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Yep. I'm done.

I think I am done with errands now for at least the next 4 weeks. My leached-out soul may have recovered by then. So have fun looking for updates from the woman who is refusing to leave her house even to buy such things as milk and toilet paper. Junk mail was good enough for my pre-toilet-paper ancestors and it can be good enough for me.

One of the things I did today was return The Boots. I know, I know, they were cute and wonderful but I just wasn't feeling it for the schizophrenia of it all. So if anyone would like a pair of those bad boys in a 37 they are at Nordstrom in Fashion Place mall reduced from $225 to $129. So, you know, go get on that.

Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for these sexy beasts to go on sale. Rowr.

And when they do I will not be buying them from the salesperson at Macy's shoe department whose idea of greeting customers is to grill them about whether or not they are going skiing now that there is snow and why skiing is just better and how are they not even a skiier because they should be skiing and it's not even cold when you ski. Seriously, dude. Back the heck up off me, because I didn't want to be conversing with you in the first place. And since I'm not on the clock, I actually get to make that choice.

The thing that made the errands bearable was listening to this song on repeat in the car. Probably everyone knows about it already and it may not even be cool anymore because that's just how far behind I am in all things musical, but seriously.

I dare you not to bop.

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Perfect Timing

When you're out, minding your business, running errands on a sunny Saturday and then all of a sudden the sky fills with dark clouds and it starts blizzarding sideways and you are firmly resolve that there is NO WAY you are going home until you've brushed the snow off your car and completed your errands, that is the perfect time to discover that the sole of your cheap years-old pair of stinky Payless flats has a big ol' crack in it.

So every time I got out of my car and scampered through slushy parking lots my left shoe filled up with ice water. This culminated in a moment at Nordstrom where I had to bring my sodden lint-covered trouser sock out of my nasty shoe in order to try on a pair of boots and realized that the horrible smell in my nostrils was not coming from a raccoon carcass someone may have dragged in and deposited nearby (as I desperately hoped) but was in fact the product of my foot.

Sigh.

As if the perfumed, MAC-wearing Nordstrom employees needed yet more proof that I don't belong in their store.

I ended up buying a pair of boots in part because I felt so bad for putting them through the indignity that was My Left Foot, and also because I didn't want to go home to think about it and have them sell out. But now I'm having second thoughts. They are Danskos, very comfortable, and very discounted. (And yes, Oprah. I wear Danskos. While you may have a problem with that, I'm not actually in a position to buy $200 flats like some people. I think we all know now the kind of flats I can afford. So don't you be giving me looks.) I very much like that the heel on these is tall enough to make me look less stubby, but not stiletto-y enough to kill me. I'm still not sure about the two-toned thing, though. It's like the shoe is having an identity crisis, or is maybe too trendy for the long haul. (Because hi, if I'm going to spend actual money on them, they need to be long-haul boots.) What do you think?

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I should be talking about Thanksgiving here

But today's post over at Petit Elefant got me browsing Martha Stewart's list of Easy Holiday Crafts (cuz hi, that's really the only kind I'm up for even considering) and pretty much slavering over all of the Christmas cuteness. I also owe the good ladies at Petit Elefant a thank-you for another act of online service. Ali, you will be happy to hear that your post on eyebrow grooming gave me the pants-kick I needed to round up the hedge trimmers and do some long-procrastinated maintenance on mine. And now instead of looking like a crazed old wizard whose eyebrows are trying to seek new residence somewhere in my hair line, I look like a Real Girl. Thank you for that.

I get that it's not time to be decorating for Christmas yet, but surely it could be time for the making of plans and the foraging for supplies, right? I would be more excited about Thanksgiving decorations but I'm not really in charge of any Thanksgiving festivities this year. We're doing Thanksgiving up in L**** and my contributions to that huge (45+ people) party will consist of 1) The Cheeseball and 2) NOT playing volleyball. It's going to be held in GH's old elementary school's two gyms. So in one gym people will be eating until stuffing runs out their ears and in the other gym will be the running and jumping and, most likely, the vomiting. Guess which gym sounds more my style. GH is concerned about trying to eat actual good food in a space where the smell of so many bad foods still lingers. We'll see how that goes.

But yeah: Christmas crafting. I went to Michael's this week and pounced like a ravening hyena upon their "2 for $5" skeins of Patons New Wool (seriously, knitters and felters--you need to lock that down). If all goes well with said skeins, I will be the most popular person in the family in Christmas morning. No lie. But if all does not go well, then forget I ever said anything.

These are the projects that so far are my favorites:

(all images taken from Martha Stewart Living)

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Gentlemen Broncos review

The other night GH and I went to a free advance screening of Gentlemen Broncos, Jared Hess's latest film. I will start by saying that the pre-show experience was somewhat spoiled because I was sitting next to a woman in her 60s who was, inexplicably, speaking loudly in a fake British accent with her companion the entire time. I know it was fake because 1) it was awful and all over the place, and 2) she would occasionally drop it to discuss things like "how those Mormons control everything here." She commented on my knitting bag (Britishly, referring to the British china patterns that it resembles) and in our brief conversation I was so very tempted to ask her what part of England she was pretending to be from. But I haven't worked in public libraries for the past several years without learning a little something called "Do not engage with the crazies."

Seriously. Just don't.

But now on to the movie.

The basic premise is that a nerdy small-town home-schooler named Benjamin (Michael Angarano) submits his sci-fi manuscript to a contest while attending a fantasy writer convention. One of the judges is the pompous Chevalier (Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords), a famous author who is going through a dry spell. Under pressure from his publisher to produce something new, he appropriates Benjamin's work, makes a few changes, and submits it as his.

And there you go. The plot. A bunch of other stuff happens too (like a local homeschooling duo who turn Benjamin's story into an awful movie just as Chevalier's new novel is being released) but it's not very interesting.

Now, I liked Napoleon Dynamite. I thought Nacho Libre was amusing, but not my favorite. This film I liked not at all. It is not surprising to find toilet humor and boob & gonad jokes in a science fiction manuscript written by a 15-year old. The problem with this movie is that it seems a 15-year-old boy may have been at the helm for the entire thing, because all told we had . . .

. . . Count 'em:

Regular Vomiting
Projectile vomiting
Kissing immediately after vomiting, resulting in vomit chunks on the mouth of both actors, resulting in me coming quite close to dry-heaving
Explosive diarrhea (from a python, no less)
Poisoned darts dipped in poop
Poisoned poop-dipped darts that are accidentally shot into a woman's breast
Sci-fi characters ingesting "yeast cakes," which strongly resemble cow pies.
Sci-fi boobs that shoot lasers
Sci-fi boobs that shoot bombs
Sci-fi sight gags involving surgically-removed testicles
Sci-fi bobcats eating said surgically-removed testicles
A female sci-fi character inviting a male sci-fi character to visit her "yeast cavern." You heard me.

It got old.

Also, remember how in Napoleon Dynamite you had a bunch of odd-ball small-town characters who were still, for the most part, believable? Yeah, not so much with this one. The quirkiness is taken so far as to be practically grotesque--from Hector Jimenez's creepy perma-grimace as Lonnie, the wannabe filmmaker, to Jennifer Coolidge "fashion designs" that make her seem completely delusional. (Note: Jennifer Coolidge got the shaft here and she deserves better. Woman gets a dart in the boob, for pete's sake.) There's just no one to really root for, here. Protagonist Benjamin is such a passive wimp that by the time he finally stands up for himself it's hard to care anymore.

Highlights, however, include Jemaine Clement as the pompous, plagiarising Chevalier. I perked up for all of his scenes.



Sam Rockwell is good (if slightly unrecognizable) as Bronco/Brutus, the sci-fi warrior imagined by Benjamin and then renamed and "turned into a tranny" by Chevalier. The science-fiction scenes based on Benjamin (and, later, Chevalier's) imagination were entertaining, involving things like missile-mounted deer. And the opening credits were fun, in which the cast and crew names appear on the cover of 1970s sci-fi paperbacks.

But yeah. Not really worth seeing, unless you're a Jemaine fan--in which you should just rent it and only watch his scenes. I am much more excited about next week's release of The Fantastic Mr. Fox, in which George Clooney will do dapper, daring things with a minimum of poop.

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Burning a hole in my pocket

Remember that one time when I was one who bikes? Yeah, that didn't last super long. For the last year my sweet bike has just been sitting on our third-floor balcony, all exposed to the elements. (Note: Please do not mimic my stupidity in this way. Get a dang tarp and cover your poor bike.) I haven't ridden it once, mostly because I couldn't stand the thought of having to lug it up and down three flights of stairs every time. Plus GH didn't have one so it wasn't something we could do together on the weekends like the fit kind of Smug Marrieds. Also there's just my natural sloth.

So I bit the bullet and posted the thing on KSL Classifieds. Two hours later I had a call, which I took in the bathroom of The Pie Pizzeria and which made for lovely accoustics. Less than 24 hours later a guy and his wife came to look at it for their college-aged daughter. I'd hauled the bike inside from where it was acting as a tomato-plant trellis and cleaned off the dust and grime. This was when I gained first-hand knowledge of WHY WE COVER OUR BIKES RATHER THAN LEAVING THEM OUT IN THE SNOW TO GET ALL SAD-LOOKING AND RUSTY. They looked it over, I threw in a brand-new bike lock, and we made a deal.

Their daughter gets a bike for Christmas, I get $120 cash.

Best. Ever. Now I'm wondering what else I can sell. And what to do with my loot. Anybody want to share what they would do with $120 free and clear dollars? I could use ideas.

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Thank you anyway, universe!

For those who wanted the update, GH did have his job interview (it was an in-house sort of thing). Although he of course went in with amazing ideas that would have revolutionized the program and the world, there are a few other "in-house" factors we now know about that make his shot seem a bit slimmer. So . . . even though nothing has been announced, I'm not going to hold my breath on that one. Am just telling myself that what the universe (read: all of you lovely people) is really sending our way is a much BETTER job that we just don't know about yet but will blow us away with its amazingness. And then GH will be able to stay home at nights and he won't need a walker for a Christmas present and we will buy a 100+-year-old home in the countryside and we will have precious pygmy goats in the backyard and a couple of chickens and a garden that I somehow don't kill and which grows itself and maybe even a magical pony and we can argue over the covers every blessed night. So thank you for helping to bring that future just a little bit closer, everyone!

And thank you to everyone with the thyroid encouragement. I know from the way I was talking everyone assumed hypothyroid stuff, only check it out: My bloodwork actually showed hyperthyroidism, which led to a conversation like this.

Medical people: These results are interesting because the symptoms you described were more of the hypo variety. So, have you experienced any feelings of nervousness or anxiety?

Me: Nope.

MP: Difficulty sleeping?

Me: Huh-uh.

MP: Fast or irregular heart-beat?

Me: Nnnnnope.

MP: Difficulty keeping weight on, or maybe even losing weight?

Me: BAH-hah-ahhahahah! Yeah . . . not so much.

They're 90% believing that it's something called thyroiditis, which is sort of a "hello, let's play the fun game of watching your thyroid levels go up and down" thing. But I'd take that over Graves' disease, which is the other potential option and does not seem like much fun as it can cause things like miscarriages and actual cobwebbed ovaries. But the nice part is that right now I feel fine so I'm going to go back in in a few weeks and then they'll take more blood and see where things are going. (Note: I have had blood taken twice now for the first time in over 10 years and I'm happy to say that both times I was SUPER BRAVE. Just wanting to get that out there. When things like flu shots and mole removals make you black out, a blood-letting that doesn't involve passing out, whimpering, or running away is a triumph.)

The doc did warn me that I'm likely coming down from the "hyper" part and could soon be showing "hypo" symptoms such as fatigue, etc.

Me: And weight gain?

Dr: Well, I wouldn't really think so. It is possible . . .

Me: It's just that with the holidays coming up and everything, that would be a really awesome thing to be able to pin it on.

Dr: Oh? Yes, that is true. Well, you go right ahead.

Me: Thank you. I believe I will.

Oh, pumpkin pie? Get on over here, lover.

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