Since I was here last: I have a new hobby and a nickname.
Sara's new hobby: The Story.
I have discovered the joy and fulfillment of "working in the yard," as I like to call it, rather than the perhaps more descriptive "raining destruction down upon innocent flora." I pretty much knew when we bought the house that there'd better be some joyful discovery if we didn't want the yard to swallow us whole, but I had so far managed to completely avoid the call of the wild. Last weekend, though, I had one of those experiences where the scales suddenly drop from your eyes and you think, "I can't find the mailbox for all the dead weeds! What if someone wanted to send me a postcard? I can't go on like this!" So I spent much of Saturday and Sunday out there with the gloves and the shovel and the big heavy clippers, pruning like mad. The weather had turned that weekend, and I felt very much in the spirit of fall and Halloween and the death of the old year. Clearing the front bed of the huge dead rosemary bush took on the atmosphere of a ritual sacrifice. Picture the clouds heavy and dark overhead, chill wind whirling oak leaves across the lawn, a pile of gnarled, twisted branches in the driveway, and me, sweating, blood dripping down my legs from myriad tiny scratches, apologizing to the plant. "I swear to God...ooof...I wouldn't rip you out if you weren't...already...dead! Ow! Motherfucker! You're dead!"
So yeah, it was great. I hope to do more "yard work" soon, possibly with the aid of a chainsaw.
The Nickname:
There was a yearly event at work, the kind where about 200 people show up to a banquet hall and have a decent meal and talk about their accomplishments as an organization. My boss, as one of the program directors, gets up at the podium to spout off about all the great things we've achieved this last fiscal year, while my team and I grind our teeth at the hypocrisy. (Memo to PB: "No staff turnover!" does not qualify as an accomplishment). But really, we just do a little teeth-grinding and then we get more or less sucked into the feel-good vibe of the event, so when our ID badge photos pop up on the screen like a batch of mug shots it's kind of a surprise. Then PB starts in with the, "If I had to use one word to describe each member of the team..." spiel, and we're looking around at each other and grimacing, because PB is one of those people who, depending on how charitable you're feeling, can be described either as a free spirit or as an example of early-stage dementia, meaning God only knows what she'll come out with. She starts at the top of the page, describing GG as steady and dependable ("I'm a rock, baby! Like Gibraltar!"), JD as "pure sunshine," and JT as a "Sure can!" kind of guy. I'm sweating and wringing my hands. BT is confident. CMJ "just glows." ("Did she just say I blow?!") I'm up next, and come on please don't make me have to kill you..."The best way I can describe Sara is that she's sparky."
Oh good Lord.
All 200 people giggle. My team, even those who blow, laugh till they cry. People have been reminiscing with me all week ("How's it going, Sparky?")
It could be worse, I know. She could have said "insufferable," or "really fucking moody." But come on. A little panache?
Feeling a little less apocalyptic today, although still not really up to par. But keepin' on, and I made some appointments and set some balls rolling, and we'll just see how it all goes. Goddamn brain.
So I was trying to come up with some thoughts about this week's Smallville, and I realized that this is one of those episodes where I'm totally waiting for someone else to generate my opinion for me. "Duplicity" was such a mixed bag, and while I have some sweeping impressions I suspect my conclusions would break down under close scrutiny, so I'm not comfortable getting too attached to them. It's like, put brain in neutral and wait for LaT to post episode review. I'm so lame.
I mean, okay. I'll admit to it up front: I used to watch the basketball scene in "Three Point Shot" (The Sentinel) over and over for the pure cheesy goodness. I love sports montages, sweaty sweaty boys, and Clark's huge, sunny, look Ma I'm normal grin. So I liked the end of "Duplicity," goofy as it was.
The other 95% of the episode made me want to throw stuff. I think that, from a rational standpoint, there will eventually be points that I appreciate, like Clark having consequences for his lies! Lionel being creepy and pathetic! Pete serving a function other than "waste of camera time that could have been spent on Lex!" But right now? Aaaaiiieeeee!! It's all going to end badly!
It's still there, coiling heavy and dark, but I'm hiding. But it's still there.
I got up (been better), drove to the conference (darkening), drank coffee (one of us is hiding), and sat. And sat, and felt more wrong than I can remember in years. Thought, my brain hurts. And it hurt, and it hurt, and I didn't think shaking would help, but I tried anyway. It didn't help.
1) What's on your bedside table? Alarm clock. Lamp. Coaster. Wooden dish with ear plugs and chapstick in it.
2) What's the geekiest part of your music collection? What part of my music collection isn't geeky? I have honor band tapes. From middle school.
3) What do you eat when you raid the fridge at night? Don't raid the fridge at night.
4) What is your secret guaranteed weeping film? I dunno. Men in Black?
5) If you could have plastic surgery, what would you have done? Remove the part of my brain that hurts when I'm depressed.
6) Do you have a completely irrational fear? That someday I will forget to blow through the straw after I unwrap it, and there will be a dead bug in there and I will unwittingly suck it up and choke and die.
7) What is the little physical habit that gives away your insecure moments? Hand wringing, knuckle cracking, lack of eye contact...
8) Do you ever have to beg? I've usually given up long before I get to that point.
9) Do you have too many love interests? Yes.
10) Do you know anyone famous? Sort of.
11) Describe your bed. Charming grey and green patterned quilt covering sweaty sheets.
12) Spontaneous or plan? Plan.
13) Who should play you in a movie about your life? I swear to God, the only person who would possibly want to make a movie about my life would be Andy Warhol. Thankfully, he's dead.
14) Do you know how to play poker? Kind of. Do I care? Not at all.
15) What do you carry with you at all times? Watch. Wedding ring.
16) How do you drive? Huh?
17) What do you miss most about being little? Not feeling the passage of every single damn second.
18) Are you happy with your given name? Yes.
19) What was the last song you were listening to? Something by the Tragically Hip.
20) Have you ever been in a school play? Yes. I was one of the beans in Jack and the Beanstalk.
21) Have you ever been in love? Yes.
22) Do you like yourself and believe in yourself? More or less.
23) Have you ever done any illegal drugs? Very, very few.
24) Do you think you're cute? Sure.
25) Do you consider yourself to be a nice person? Yes, although no longer nice to my detriment.
I'm supposed to go to some conference on assistive technology tomorrow, but I seem to have misplaced the paper that tells me when, exactly, the events start.
They probably don't start at 8am. But they could. And the conference is at a hotel way across town.
Or, you know, they might be crazed weasels. But then maybe they'd be interested in the sick brilliance that would be a Lex/Lionel vid to the Cake version of "I Will Survive."
Huh. Fanfic Meetup. Perhaps people in this city other than SMW and the Hubster would be interested in my opinions on Clark's SuperStance and his brilliant career opportunity conducting psychic pap smears.
It must be October, because today I stayed home with a blurry head and vague aches and pains, eating McDonald's cheeseburgers and reading crap SV slash for hours. Thought about going in to work around noon, but the act of pulling my socks on left me shaky and despairing, so I gave up and staggered back to my computer. As is typical, I don't actually know if I'm mildly sick or just tired and low; both states feel about the same. Am hoping that if there's actual illness involved here, today will work as a preemptive strike. As much as I love fall, I would prefer not to repeat last year's battery of cool weather viruses.
Speaking of, Zeb appears to have passed his kitty illness on to Mr. Sinatra, who is wheezy and red-eyed and warm. The Hubster's taking both of them to the vet again tomorrow, while I am watching the rabbit carefully in case the virus jumps species. The good news is, being under the weather has lowered Mr. S's defenses, and I spent most of the day with two cats twined around each other on my lap, alternately sleeping and washing. Occasionally they would get up to chase each other around the house in an apparent blood frenzy, but as nobody's actually dead yet, I think they've adjusted.
The Hubster just came home with an offer of a prospective Halloween costume--his friend BG from work wants the three of us to go as Blue Man Group. I'm uninspired, but it's a good, easy group costume so I'll probably do it. Plus, buying blue face paint leaves the door open for what I really want to go as, which is Death on a Horse. 'Cause, you know, it's not geeky enough that I want to dress up as a character from Highlander, I have to be a character from a specific episode of Highlander. Probably what I'll end up doing is being Methos--I mean, "a barbarian"--at work, and using the Blue Man Group for C and S's Halloween 2K2 party. Double your fun, as they say.
