I remember my dad teaching me to parallel park. The way it goes in my memory is that during one driving lesson when I was 15, he just announced that we were going to cover parallel parking so that I wasn’t one of those girls who can never do it. (He may not have actually said that, but that’s how it goes in my memory.)
I guess I took that very seriously. I have never liked anyone suggesting that I fit into the stereotype of the “female driver.” But I have taken special pride in parallel parking. I’m pretty good at it. It helps that I’m driving the same car I’ve been driving for 11 years, so I have a really stellar feel for the dimensions of the thing.
This is my parallel parking job from when I got home this evening. And yes, the spot I was parking in was a pretty good size. And honestly, this is slightly closer to the curb than I would usually shoot for. But still. This is one shot, on the first try.
This weekend felt longer than three days, but in that kind of weird draggy way. Allow me to explain.
On Saturday we had a dinner-and-game-night at our place, which I spent the day kind of stressing about, since it was an eclectic crowd of people and I’m not quite used to playing hostess yet. But overall everything went very well (possibly better than I had expected) and I learned that I love the game Balderdash, which I have never played before but now want to play all the time.
On Sunday, Drew and I went with Erin to San Jose to help out her dad with this steampunk convention he was doing. It was part of FanimeCon, but apparently only sort of? We didn’t really have all the details, but we were mostly there to do little odd jobs and make sure no one stole any of the equipment. It was…nerdy, honestly, and I don’t need to get into it but there was some major judging going on there. (By us; of the people attending the convention.) It was a fun day though, and it’s always good to branch out and spend some time around people wearing full out Victorian costumes (with steampunk accessories) and speaking in bad British accents.
Also, this bag of heads. But I have no idea why.
On Sunday night Drew and I started our Modern Family marathon – we hadn’t watched any of this most recent season, which ended last Wednesday. At least, we thought we hadn’t, until we started watching episodes and realized we’d actually seen about 4. But marathoning it is more fun than watching a half-hour episode once a week.
That’s mostly what we did on Sunday (after finishing reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in the morning), until after 9 episodes I said, “I need a break,” and then right after that Hulu Plus said “You’ve been watching for 3 hours, need a break?” Oh how we laughed.
We went for a walk but didn’t really accomplish anything while on it. Well, we did pick up a menu from this Thai place near us that we may try out later this week.
We watched some more episodes that night, but we still have maybe 8 or 9 to go, which I think is a nice amount. Although, I do want to finish them this week because I think I’d like to cancel Hulu Plus before I have to pay for another month. (That’s how I roll.)
When I came into work this morning, I found a post-it saying “Gotcha!” taped over the laser on my mouse (so it wouldn’t work). I also found these people taped under the handset of my phone:
If you’re not familiar with Game of Thrones, that’s Cersei (she’s sort of a bad guy) and Tyrion (he’s totally the best guy). Tonight we watch episode 9 of season 2, which aired on Sunday, and which I have heard is an amazing episode. I am pretty stoked. (And I highly recommend if you’re not watching, you begin immediately.)
And, finally, if you’re keeping score, today marks 22 weeks pregnant for me, which is the end of the 5th month. (The counting is complicated, but trust me: 22 weeks = 5 months.) This week the baby is the size of a papaya, and probably weighs about a pound. This isn’t a particularly huge landmark, but we’re celebrating every single little one, plus I just kind of like this picture I took this morning. So please enjoy this relatively infrequent pregnancy update!
Yesterday I brought up the old adage that all quotes are either from the Bible or Shakespeare. Last night I was thinking about this. Before the internet, how did we know whether any particular quote was Shakespeare or Scripture?
If I had wanted to know where “Not with a bang but a whimper” came from, I would probably have to first have an idea (my idea was Yeats) and then I’d have to go through my poetry books from high school and college and try to find “that Yeats poem” that the quote was from.
If I were trying to narrow it down between the Bible and the Bard, I guess it’s possible that I would have a concordance of one or both of those things (my parents had a Bible concordance) and I could search for it that way. Is it likely, though, that I would have either of those books? (Maybe…as I was an English major, they would have been great pre-internet gifts.)
But then what happens in this situation, when all my guesses are wrong? I would have to just ask people if they knew, and keep an eye out for it in the future? Or maybe in a non-internet society I would be trained to remember these things better? And like a good English major, I would have just known: “Oh, that’s from TS Eliot’s The Hollow Men. It’s a reference to the Gunpowder Plot, and how instead of ending with the planned explosion, it ended with Guy Fawkes’ whimper as he was caught and executed.”
Man, I’d feel so smart all the time. And probably do better on Jeopardy!
But instead, the second I come up against something I’m not sure of (or something I’m pretty sure of) I run to Google to double check it.
New project: instead of just Googling things all the time* I’m going to try to remember some of them, using my brain power. Let’s see how this goes.
*Things I have Googled while writing this post: Yeats (correct spelling?); concordance (correct spelling?); “not with a bang but a whimper” (which Eliot poem was that again?); Shakespeare concordance (does such a thing exist?), “if I were” vs “if I was” (and now I finally understand the different between these two – so today is a success).
I wanted to go back through my Google search terms in my phone, because I like revisiting the things I’ve needed to look up while I’m on the go. It’s amusing and can bring back some happy memories. (Like all the Harry Potter stuff I’ve googled.) Unfortunately, I realize that my phone actually only keeps the terms for a couple weeks – major bummer.
So, in order from most to least recent, here they are:
Rampion – photo from flickr.com (click for direct link)
Rampion – I had radicchio at dinner last night…which led to me wondering if that was in the Witch’s “rap” in the opening song of Into the Woods…which led to us doing the rap…which led to Drew saying, “Do you think she entered her rampion in competitions?” (“my rampion, my champion”)…which led to me googling rampion to see exactly what it was. (I was positive that it was a type of lettuce, but it’s just a flower.)
BART schedule – took BART to Berkeley the other day. Checked the schedule a lot.
Lakeport English Inn – I had to find their phone number so I could call and double check that they weren’t cash only. (They’re not.)
Not with a bang but a whimper – The title of the final Dexter episode is “This is the way the world ends,” so then I said, “Not with a bang but a whimper,” and then Erin and I were debating what that quote was from. Then we were talking about how in The Westing Game (the best kids’ mystery book ever), one of the characters says that every quote is from the Bible or Shakespeare. I guessed that this was actually a quote from a Yeats poem, but it’s TS Eliot, which I totally should have known.
AJ Jacobs Drop Dead Healthy – Potentially my next book club pick, although it’s just come out and I’d like to wait to get it until it’s in paperback. At any rate, I love AJ Jacobs!
Fiona Fullerton – there was an oldschool version of Alice in Wonderland on TV, and I thought the actress playing Alice looked familiar, so I googled her. I do not know who she is at all.
Lego game of thrones – Someone recreated the Game of Thrones opening sequence in Legos. It’s okay. It would have been better if they had used the actual theme song, rather than using a weird “brand X” version of it.
Mahogany – On Facebook, The Hunger Games posts daily typography images that fans have done. Good examples are here and here. (That second one is worth a look around – she has some really stellar work, not just The Hunger Games but also Harry Potter stuff, and others.) A bad example is one that used the quote “That is mahogany” but spelled mahogany wrong. I was just double checking that I was spelling it right. Because I’m an insufferable know-it-all like that. (I did not comment on the post or anything.)
Just look at her.
Whore of Babylon – Dexter again. Just wanted to get some background info on the whore of Babylon.
How long does it take to get from London to Hogwarts? – Well this is self-explanatory. And the answer is, all afternoon. The train leaves at 11am and arrives sometime around 6 or 7 in the evening.
Low blood pressure – Just wanted to know what was considered low blood pressure. Just keeping healthy.
Handicapped parking san Francisco – Just curious if it’s true that if you have a handicapped placard, you don’t have to pay for parking in the city.
5k miles – The Arthritis Walk was 5k and I wanted to double check what I got myself into. (3.1 miles…so not much.)
Professor kettleburn – He taught Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts before Hagrid took over.
Professor sprout – We needed to double check her first name. (Drew was right, it’s Pomona.)
Carrie underwood blown away – I wanted to show Drew the cover for Carrie Underwood’s new album. Mostly because Jonathan said it looks like the winner of a Judith Light drag queen contest, and I knew that Drew would think that was funny.
Sorry, Carrie Underwood, you know I love you. (But I like you so much more when you’re all country and down-home kinda girl. This is just a lot of glitter, and a lot of leg.)
A foodie, I am not. Which is to my own chagrin, when someone suggests going somewhere “fancy” or “exotic.” (And probably to Drew’s chagrin, when I order chicken katsu yet AGAIN.)
It should probably be considered a character flaw. I’m just not that adventurous when it comes to food. I wonder if I can blame it on growing up somewhere without a lot of exotic food. I mean, the one Chinese place in Lakeport is called Hong Kong. And I still think it’s delicious…but I’m not sure how Chinese it is.
I had sushi for the first time in high school (out of town)… Thai food for the first time in college… and Indian food for the first time about 6 months ago. (Since THAT little work-friends lunch, I’ve definitely been called out in public for my vanilla palate. But I mean…turkey sandwiches and Greek salads are just so good. Why would you change it up?) Among the things I haven’t tasted yet: Moroccan, Ethiopian, churrasco.
It doesn’t help that I’m not really into spicy stuff. I got a quesadilla at this taqueria the other day, and accidentally ordered it with the spicy chicken. Oops. Trying to find the non-spicy option can be limiting at certain establishments. Also embarrassing, in general.
But I have been reading back through my livejournal entries (whoa, right?) and I found this entry about Drew’s and my farewell-to-New-York dinner, back in July 2009. (I just realized I titled that entry “food food food delicious food.” I didn’t try so hard, back then.)
Gotham Bar and Grill – photo from Yelp
We dressed up all fancy and went to Gotham Bar and Grill in Greenwich Village. Luckily, because I’m a hoarder of information, I wrote down exactly what we ate that night. (Most of it is taken exactly from the menu, which is why it’s so specific. But the Gotham Market Pasta is a seasonal thing and so I didn’t have the exact wording.)
I had: SMOKED MAGRET DUCK BREAST fresh figs, mostarda di frutta and pecorino tartufo
balsamic vinegar reduction GOTHAM MARKET PASTA last night’s special was fettuccine with mushrooms, spinach, and cheese. I’m sure they would have worded it better than that though. CRISP SOFT SHELL CRAB chanterelles, asparagus, sweet corn and brown butter aioli
white verjus sauce
He had: BLACK BASS CEVICHE honeydew melon, hearts of palm, grapefruit and radish
jalapeno cucumber broth FOIE GRAS AND ORGANIC CHICKEN TERRINE toasted brioche, kumquat marmalade and balsamic vinegar RACK OF LAMB swiss chard, roasted cipollini and potato purée
For dessert: RHUBARB PINEAPPLE SOUFFLÉ rose petal jam, crisp meringue
strawberry ice cream
and GOTHAM CHOCOLATE CAKE with seasonal ice cream
I remember thinking it was delicious. And I remember, at the time, thinking that going out to a place like this was a good idea. But then it makes me wonder…what happened that I changed my tune, so that I just want grilled cheese and apples with peanut butter? And am I hiding this flaw well enough? Also, what is an appropriate occasion for me to suggest Outback Steakhouse? Or do I need to just bring it up ironically and then see what people’s reactions are? Alternately, would Outback deliver lunch to my work?
Why do you take such offense against these little yellow Baby on Board stickers that hang in car windows?
I mean, I kind of get it. I used to be one of you. I assumed that the sticker was there as a way to tell me to slow down and drive more carefully around the baby. I thought that was the equivalent of a mom shushing me in a public area where I should be allowed to talk freely, just because her child was sleeping. (In both cases, I should probably just restrain myself a little better. But also in both cases, I disliked having a stern stranger tell me what to do.)
Here’s a little story: once in high school, I was driving from Lakeport over to Fort Bragg. Between Willits and Fort Bragg is a 30-mile stretch of winding road through the trees – it’s gorgeous, but it’s one lane, with a single passing lane available about 10 miles in from the coast. There are plenty of places to pull over and let someone pass you, though.
I was stuck behind a car rattling along with a Baby on Board sticker. This car would not pull over, no matter that it had been nearly 20 miles, which was unbearable to me, a teenager in a 2-door car with a stick shift. Finally we approached the passing lane, which incidentally was on an uphill stretch, and as I moved over to pass…the jalopy sped up! I barely made it past them, and then I continued on my way…at which point that car tailgated me for the remaining 10 miles of the trip.
I reached the coast and pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store…where the jalopy pulled up behind me, parking me in, and an irate woman got out and began yelling at me about “almost running her off the road” and how she had “a baby in the backseat.” All I could do was stand there in shock (I have never been good at confrontation) – but what I wanted to snap back was that she had plenty of chances to let me pass, she didn’t have to speed up while I was passing her, and she certainly didn’t have to speed up in order to follow me the rest of the way.
So. She was crazy, and should not have behaved that way. Because of her I am now totally paranoid about being followed and trapped in a parking lot, and I always have a contingency plan if I think someone is tailing me.
But, here’s what I started out to say. I realized something, many years later.
The Baby on Board sticker is not there to tell you what to do: it’s just to alert you, the other driver, that the car with the baby is likely to drive slower, more cautiously, and to view yellow lights as “stop now” signals rather than “go very fast.” So if you need to adjust for that, then feel free. I’ll be here, in the right hand lane, signaling carefully and going the speed limit.
If I could go back in time and tell High School Me one thing…
…it would be to take advantage of Phys Ed.
I would rejoice if, at this point in my life, there was an hour of every weekday set aside for exercise, complete with someone shaking it up every few weeks and introducing a new unit (archery, then softball, then tennis, then weight lifting). This would happen at the same time every day, preferably in the morning before the rest of my classes– I mean, before work. A relative stranger would intimidate me through warm-ups of jumping jacks and crunches. I would have very little excuse or reason not to go, because at the end of the year I would get a grade, based not on my physical fitness, but on how hard I triedthis year.
And in high school, we took all this for granted. We cheated our way through running the mile, and we opted to play badminton (or even ping pong!) instead of tennis because, let’s face it, a bunch of people trying not to move too much can play badminton pretty easily.
I mean, all the other mistakes I made and stupid things I did in those four years don’t really matter. You know, they shape the person you become, etc etc. I didn’t make any mistakes that ruined my life or anyone else’s (as far as I know). But it might have been really useful if someone had just enlightened me as to the fact that one day, I would pay a monthly gym membership for the chance to run on a treadmill and lift weights. And maybe that same person could point out to me the comparisons between a gym membership, and a Phys Ed class.
Among my habits that annoy Drew, “saving” is probably pretty high up there. I “save” all kind of things. I save up recycling rather than throwing it away, even though we don’t have a recycling dumpster at our new place. (C’mon… seriously? This is California!) I often have a box going for stuff (clothes, books, anything really) that I mean to take to Salvation Army or Goodwill…eventually.
And I have this irrational fondness for collecting coins for months in an old Nesquik container. Then one night, I dump them out on the carpet and watch TV and roll them into actual, exchangeable piles of money.
We had some rolled coins still sitting around from a few months ago, and then a bunch of new loose coins. So the other night, I flopped down on the carpet to roll the rest of them, and Drew sat down with me. I don’t know if he enjoys it at all, or if he just recognizes the value in turning this sort-of-forgotten money into bank-account money.
We ended up with $65 altogether – $10 in quarters, $10 in nickels, $10 in pennies (this is weird, right?), and $35 in dimes. That’s right. Those skinny little dimes, that I don’t always bother to pick up when they fall on the ground, added up to $35.
I took this Safeway bag full of money into the bank this morning, where shifty-eyed tellers immediately assessed my intentions and each tried to pass me off to the next person. The first guy said, “Tell you what we’re going to do, my coworker over there is going to help you because I have to…go do something.” (Seriously.) Then the girl he passed me off to said that her drawer wasn’t big enough for all of it, so I’d have to go over there. The third guy had been sneaking a look at a text message and so he didn’t have any excuse ready to go, and he wound up dealing with me.
But here’s what I want to know: is it so weird that I do this? I mean, it’s money. What am I supposed to do, go to a Coinstar and let them take almost 10% of it? That’s $6 saved right there.
And this is a bank. This is a branch of one of the biggest banks in America, and I’ve been a customer there for 10 years. So what if once a year I come in and make someone count rolls of change? It’s just counting. You learn that ish in elementary school.
To add insult to injury, the guy finished up our conversation by telling me how my name should be pronounced, which I’ve decided is one of the most annoying things that people persistently do. I don’t tell you that your name is spelled wrong, Kriss. So how about you give me my receipt for my $65, and let me get out of here.
We cannot find our can opener. Despite the fact that we have TWO of them. Despite the fact that Drew swears he’s seen one of them somewhere in the new apartment since we moved in. But we seriously cannot find either. We have been through the entire apartment several times – usually every time we forget and buy non-pull-top cans at the grocery store – and still nothing.
What’s a girl to do? I mean, I have this Anderson’s pea soup, and I can’t touch it. That’s a tragedy right there.
I think I’m going to have to go buy a new one. As soon as I do that, both of the original ones will pop up again. Then we’ll have three, and this problem will never happen again.
The other day Drew put on a jacket he hasn’t worn in over seven years (apparently) and said, “Oh wow, guess what I just found?”
My first thought was Twenty bucks??
But what he showed me was kind of way better than that.
This is the ticket stub from the first movie we ever saw together. It was January 9, 2005, it was a Sunday, and I think it wasn’t actually a date.
I remember that I was running late getting to the theater, and parking was hard to find, and he was already waiting and had already purchased his ticket. I don’t remember how late I was but I hope it wasn’t bad – I know now how much he hates being late. Oops!
While we were reminiscing about this movie, I asked him why it wasn’t a date, and why he didn’t buy my ticket, and why we didn’t do anything afterward. His response was, “I don’t know…but don’t worry, everything worked out in the end.”
It’s just so weird to think about – when this ticket was printed, we were just two people who went to school together. And then less than three weeks later we had started down a path that would lead us inexorably to New York City and back, to marriage, to starting a family…and that’s all within eight years. There are so many more years yet to come!
I saved the ticket stub, by the way. I mean…wouldn’t you?
I remember my dad teaching me to parallel park. The way it goes in my memory is that during one driving lesson when I was 15, he just announced that we were going to cover parallel parking so that I wasn’t one of those girls who can never do it. (He may not have actually said that, but that’s how it goes in my memory.)
The Cameraphone Diaries 