A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

I'm going to need a couple minutes alone.

Because one of my favorite books in the whole wide world...one of the creepiest, most heartbreaking novels, narrated by one of the most multilayered, completely believable protagonists I've ever encountered, is being adapted for the small screen. That's right: this December, Mike Noonan and Sara Tidwell will bust into our living rooms. Bag of Bones. Mothertrucking BAG OF BONES, ya'll.

Fiction is often good. Stephen King's fiction is almost always good. This one is beautiful and haunting. I just hope A&E doesn't muck it up. I do question casting Pierce Brosnan, I guess because I picture Mike Noonan as more like Ron Livingston.


Or, honestly, like Engineer-Beta, whom you likely haven't met, but I assure you is an excellent actor (ok, and physically fits the part of the attractive everyman).

I totally agree with the casting of Sara Tidwell and Joanne Noonan.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

And I haven't even seen Paranormal Activity 3 yet.

I don't even know where to start. I've been too busy to sit still lately, and when I have time to sit still, I generally want to spend that time curled up on the couch with E-2.0, flipping back and forth between Red Wings games and Ghost Adventures, pretending my phone doesn't exist. And while it feels pretty awesome at the time to do just that for entire weekends, we're both simply too energetic and if we don't get things accomplished, we feel bad. So we're navigating the deeper waters of Boo'd Upness, wherein we figure out how to hang together and take care of business. Laying around feels good and all, for a little while. But there comes a point, usually when you realize the legs of your sweatpants are hiked up on your calves and your back is sore from all the total inactivity, that it's just time to get up and clean out your car or answer correspondence or teach your dog commands in Spanish. Whatever.

In one sentence: a presentation about bats, a pumpkin-carving party, a trip to Florence, a friend's epic breakup, a friend's undeserved attack on Topix, bible study (Baptist), RCIA classes (Catholic...duhr), plans to read/blog the Purpose Driven Life with a longtime buddy (sorry, private blog, but I may talk about it here if something cool happens), a haunted house, a haunted hayride, family in North Carolina, political brouhaha in which I am painted as a Godless heathern, continued weight loss, and...cooking, cooking, cooking. Cooooooking.

I have a lot to say, but right now I have to make mashed potatoes to go with tonight's pot roast and plan what I'm going to make for a post-funeral repast on Friday. Grief makes people want soul food. (I'm not grieving. Sympathetic, but I didn't personally know the deceased. I'm there to provide moral support and collard greens to a friend.)

I'm tired. Tired and happy. Looking forward to this weekend, and the giant haunted house Lacefield and I will be going to. Too bad Brett can't make it, since he'll be in D.C. Pfft. Like anyone would rather be in D.C. than Killen, Alabama.

Also: now I know how to prepare bok choy.



Gorgeously.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Just sayin.'

Anyone who goes out for ginger ale and Pepto Bismol after you Regan MacNeil the dinner he just cooked for you, then rubs your back, pets your hair, and (fearlessly!) puts an arm around your uncontrollably shivering shoulders...

...definitely deserves a high-five. And difficult, wheat-free baked goods.

Stomach bugs suck. People who risk getting sick to make you feel better? They don't suck at all.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

I'ma make it funderstorm.

This is what's up. While I'm actually sitting still in front of a computer, with unstolen wi-fi.

1) You should go to the Rattlesnake Saloon because it's a lot of fun (and hello, it's in a cave). It's also awesome if the friend you go with used to work there and can get the hookup on free noms. I recommend the Duke burger, which is topped with bacon and fried jalapeno slices.
2) There is no reason for me to ever wear anything other than VS khaki miniskirts, textured tights, and tall Uggs. I'm henceforth pretending that pants don't exist. Bonus points for adding skinny scarves. Are they necessary? Heck, no! But I'm girly, and that's that. I accept that girlyness is a social construct. Ok. I enjoy it.
3) I lopped off my hair to remove the last of the old dark color. That brought it to a startlingly shorter length (just past shoulders), but it's worth it to me. Think Zooey Deschanel. (Please, please think Zooey Deschanel when you see me. Please.) Also got new glasses, just to complete the geek-chic. Also so that I can see.
4) The Lions are 5-0. Who ARE these guys? Meanwhile, the Packers blahblahblahblah...
5) Engineer 2.0 has somehow never seen Back to the Future, any of the Indiana Jones movies, Halloween, or Gremlins. Well, he hadn't seen Halloween until this past weekend. I set him straight on that Saturday night. But seriously...no Indiana? No Doc? Sad panda.
6) Last night, E-2.0 and I attended Alcorn County's Republican Party meeting, as Pappy was the guest speaker. He owned it. There were a few regular speakers. They didn't own it. There were refreshments, but between my intermittent food snobbery* and Brett's non-negotiable food allergies, we just glanced longingly at the buffet table and walked on. Actually, I was really looking forward to this, because I wanted to hear about the Amendment 26 issue that's got Mississippians in a tizzy. *deep breath* Ok. I left with a mouth full of blood from biting my tongue. People are entitled to their opinions, but having misinformation about reproductive rights floating around just ain't fly, and I'm kind of kicking myself for not standing up and saying so. This amendment has very broad, very dangerous implications, and a great deal of the propaganda surrounding it has been shamefully misleading. I'm not trying to change opinions on this. But if those opinions are based on intentionally deceptive rhetoric, anyone who knows better has an obligation to set the record straight, and I'm pretty sure a lot of the people who are supporting this legislative catastrophe are only doing so because they are unclear on key definitions. The group who is actually pushing this, Personhood USA, attempted it in Colorado first, where it didn't pass. They immediately targeted Mississippi, and I don't think they missed the fact that Mississippi has one of the five lowest rates of college graduates in the nation. The signs and flyers feature a giant picture of a fetus, and the wording deliberately misleads the reader to assume this is strictly an abortion issue. That's no accident. They're counting on Mississippi being too stupid to understand the difference between fertilization and conception, and so far, they're correct. Amendment 26 is rapidly gaining momentum because of this deception. It appeals to everyone who considers themselves pro-life, and it's become the favorite mission among people who believe women shouldn't even speak aloud in church unless it's in tongues. I don't think any of them are qualified to make decisions relating to my fallopian tubes. I'm sure I'll post more about this soon, as we get closer to November 8.
7) The Corinth Symphony Orchestra is pretty great. Booface (ooh, can't wait til he reads that) and I attended this past Saturday. It was way more impressive than we thought it would be. I've seen them a few times before, for Christmas and their annual concerts for July 4th, but this was...better. They kicked it off with some very familiar but always pretty Mozart (Serenade 13 in G, first movement). Sure, it's probably the first piece of music to be overplayed nearly to death, and you know it instantly when you hear it. But go ahead and give it another listen. It's a really gorgeous piece of music. Know how some Beatles and Zeppelin songs are so iconic and recognizable that you kinda forget how great they really are until you listen to one all the way through again? Then you're like, "Damn, this is good. This is really good." Same thing. Mozart was a rockstar before there were rockstars. He had better pieces (I can barely listen to the first movement of Symphony No. 25 without doing the ugly-cry, and his Requiem in D Minor will only fail to give you goosebumps if you're the deceased), but No. 13's pretty sweet, and it's pretty awesome that most people can hum the tune 224 years after it was written.


That's that. For now.

* See: Duke burger.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Memphis Reunions/Monkeys Riding Dogs

Pretty much everything since Thursday has been an overstuffed satchel of sweet.

Thursday night, Brett and I were supposed to leave Corinth around 6:15. He was *SHOCKER* running late from work, so I sat at his house while he sped through, Roadrunner style, and managed a shower and change of clothes in about 18 seconds. We left at about 6:35 and made it to Shiloh before 7:00. Don't ask how fast I was going. We made it just in time for Marcus's presentation about owls. He kicked it off with a clip from Bambi (the scene where the owl explains what "twitterpated" is). Awww. The presentation was really informative, and Marcus was funny and at-ease. I got a kick out of my overzealous companion, and got to stock up on chops-busting ammo when he yelled out the wrong answer to a question Marcus wasn't really asking the audience. (By the way, owls are forward-facing, and all owl eyes have pupils.) There was another couple there, and they were clearly not united in their desire to be there. The guy slumped in his seat and silently shook his head while his girlfriend asked questions like, "Do owls mate for life?" and "Well, what if the girl owl just gets fed up with the boy owl, can she leave him? What if the boy owl dies? Does she get another mate?" Then he asked a couple questions like, "Are owls endangered? I mean, can you shoot them? Can you eat them?" Great stuff. I kept feeling an elbow in my ribs and I had to look the other way to keep from busting out laughing. Afterward, we went to The Broken Spoke for a late dinner. I hadn't been there in awhile, and had almost forgotten how great the food is. It's a little pricey but definitely worth it, not just for the food, but for the atomsphere.

Friday, Brandon and Brett came over for Scrabble. Scrabble never happened. Instead, I made dinner and we all sat on the porch. Brandon entertained us with funny stories of the E.R. and I sat, watching. The guys I've dated have felt threatened by Brandon. Not in a romantic sense, but they've felt somewhat excluded, and sometimes jealous of the closeness. (One flat-out said he wouldn't "play second fiddle" and asked that I distance myself from my friend.) So I was interested to see how these two would interact. They've met briefly, but hadn't actually hung out. It went really well. They seemed to get along great, and I was relieved when Brett jumped into the nonstop banter and kept up. Later they both separately confirmed that they really like the other. I can't convey what a big deal this is. Sweeet.

(To any dude I may date, ever: Don't whine about competing with Brandon. If I'm spending time with you, there's something about you that I like. I hang with Brandon because he's hilarious. If you want to make me laugh like that, be that funny. It's not like some stupid competition, and it's not my fault if you're not as interesting as you thought you were. If you want my time, be worth my time. You don't just have a right to it upon meeting me. Knock my socks off and bring the funny.)

Saturday morning, I shamefully slunk out of town and toward Memphis as the Rotary Club's 5k commenced. About 300 people participated. I know, I was supposed to run it. BUT it happened to be the only weekend Lindsey and I have been able to work out for a visit. She's due in six weeks, and something tells me she's going to be a little busy after that, what with suddenly being a mom and all. The shame didn't last long, and I very happily pulled into LT's driveway. We had a lovely time, lunching at Slider Inn and kvetching and catching up. I couldn't stop looking at her belly. It's so amazing to me that my awesome friend is creating this awesome son who's about to be joining us out here in the daylight and oxygen. She had me touch one side of the belly and then the other, noting how one side was way harder because there's a human bottom/haunch on that side. Omigah. I don't have words for how trippy and stupefyingly cool that is. It was soooo good to see her again.



After I left Lindsey's, it was time to haul it home and get ready to meet up with Brett for the Tupelo fair. (He came in second place in the 5k, btw.)And what is so special about the Tupelo fair, you ask? Only this:



Yeah. Not a chance I could pass up something like that. We had a ridiculously good time, eating french fries, riding rattling death traps, and spending a truly embarassing amount of time in the petting zoo. I like cows, ok? I like their big cow eyes and their long cow eyelashes. If I have the opportunity to pet baby cows, I will grab that opportunity and hold onto it as long as I can. I have some moral objections to petting zoos, but I'm not a strong enough person to remind myself of those objections when someone asks me if I want to feed a goat, because I DO WANT TO FEED THE GOAT. So there was that. We rode the ferris wheel, which I believe to be the scariest ride on the planet. The other rides are too fast for the rider to really process fear beyond a fleeting, adrenaline-ish feeling. The ferris wheel? Nah. You've got a loooong time to think about how loooong the fall down would be. I was getting a little nervous up there at the top, looking down at the now-tiny cars and the now-tiny goats and marginially tinier freaky fat fair people (you know the ones). Luckily, Brett grabbed my hand and started singing the chorus to "Dancing on the Ceiling," so I was too busy being simultaneously impressed/horrified to be scared. We finished up at the fair, listened to Tool on the way home, went back to his house, and wrapped up the evening with a viewing of some disturbing Mr. T video from 1984.

Sunday, I cooked ribs and Indian food while the Lions beat the Cowboys. We watched tv in a near-comatose state of fullness and exhaustion. I thought about painting my nails. Didn't happen.

It was an exquisite weekend.

This is how people smile when they've just seen monkeys riding dogs: