This is a common problem. I sit in front of my computer trying to find something to listen to for what seems like hours. I’ve got plenty of music on iTunes, at present, I could listen to music for over 8 days and never listen to the same thing twice (except for all 17 versions of numerous DMB songs courtesy of my husband) It would seem that there should be no problem finding something to suit my mood. It should be a simple process - am I in the mood for something deep and reflective like Elliott Smith or Radiohead…. or something fun and upbeat like John Mellencamp or Three Dog Night? Maybe I want blues like Robert Johnson… or poppy like The Beatles… maybe it’s sunny and The Eagles would be a perfect fit. Sometimes late at night when I’m almost ready to go to bed, surely The Shins would be a better choice than Guns ‘n Roses. Or just maybe, Clint has been out of town and I have an overwhelming urge for some Dave Matthews. See - it shouldn’t be that hard. But it is - as I type this I’m listening to Radiohead’s “Hail to the Thief” and it took me over 10 minutes to make that decision. It might help if I could browse by genre - I know iTunes has this feature but if you’re an itunes user go browse by genre right now and you’ll see what I’m talking about. According to iTunes, the only Alternative Rock music I have is PJ Harvey, Pete Yorn is classified as Punk, and while I agree that Michelle Branch (my husbands, not mine) is pop, I don’t think Mark Knopfler would be too happy to know that he’s stuck there too. In fact, most of my music is placed in no genre - you would think it would be easy to assign Sarah Mclachlan and Aretha Franklin (pop and R&B respectively), but iTunes places them in no category. I know I could assign all the albums appropriate genres but that is too damn much work. So my problem remains. I honestly think that I might just have too much music to choose from. It could also be the way I listen to music. I don’t know what other people do but unless I’m putting on music as background noise to clean or sew or something, I rarely listen to entire albums. If I’m listening to “listen to music” I want to skip around and hear all of my favorites. And yes, I’ve got a million playlists. The problem is that the 25 songs I wanted to listen to yesterday aren’t the same 25 songs I want to listen to today. Sure there are some songs that I’m almost always in the mood to listen to - but the key word is “almost”. There are circumstances under which I just don’t feel like hearing “The Origin of Love” from the Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack - I know it’s amazing that anyone could say that. Also I don’t want to go strictly by these playlists because I forget about music I love. I can go months without remembering how much I love Elton John’s “Goodbye” or Radiohead’s “Climbing up the Walls”. So I have limited choices. I can choose to jump around and listen to a bunch of stuff - the downfall being that this requires constant attention and I might forget a song I love. I can choose a playlist, but this is going to end with me skipping a lot of songs because I’m simply not in the mood to listen to Ani Difranco sing “Shy”. Or I can listen to entire albums which is difficult because there are few albums that I truly like every song on them - Radiohead’s “Kid A”, The Beatles “Abbey Road”, Elton John’s “Madman Across the Water”, U2’s “Joshua Tree”, and right now REM’s “Around the Sun” are the only ones I can do it with. Many albums come close and I suppose I could uncheck “No Surprises” on OK Computer and such and have a few more. Actually, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I actually just realized that might be a good solution. Ok, but I know that I’m still going to end up switching albums after the first 3 or 4 songs because what always happens is that track 3 or whatever reminds me of some song I like and I have to listen to right this minute and it does no good to finish whatever I’m listening to right now because now anything short of Jackson Browne singing “The Pretender” is just crap. See, as we speak I remembered how much I like that song and I’m going to have to switch over to it - except that for some reason Jackson Browne always makes me think about Broadway plays so now I think instead I’ll listen to the West Side Story Soundtrack and I ask you - How in the hell can someone who is listening to Radiohead suddenly get a desperate urge to hear “I Feel Pretty”?
I hope I’m alone in this, because if I’m not….. I’m scared for this world.

Mel

Butters “Captain Chaos” Dickens 2004 - 2005

Earlier this week, a tragedy occured. Not a tragedy on the scale of loosing a child (which also happened in my family this week), but a tragedy nonetheless. It may be hard for some to understand why loosing a pet is so upsetting, but let me try to explain. Some of us do not have children, and some have had children and now they are all grown and living independantly. The desire to nurture and protect those who need us is an instinctual and sometimes overwhelming need. So some of us, when circumstances demand it, choose to funnel this energy into a pet. I guess it really does no good to try and explain it - if your pet is a family member, you already know what I’m talking about, if you are petless or your pet is simply a pet, you’ll never understand. My parents, like me, consider their pets members of their family. A few days ago, my parents lost their beloved Butters. He was hit by a car in front of his home. My parents live out in the country and, unfortunately, this is a fairly common occurance. I talked of Butters in a previous post so I think I’ve made it clear just how special he was to my parents. He managed to weasel his way pretty deep into the hearts of those who knew him only briefly. He was truly a magnificent cat. My parents have had many additions to their family over the years. This is mainly due to their living in the country where many people decide to drop carloads of kittens when they are too lazy to find them good homes. I’ve always believed that there is a special place in hell for people who dump animals, and so it follows that there is a special place in heaven for those that pick them up, dry them off, bring them inside and let them stay. I imagine this place in heaven is also heavily populated with all kinds of pets as well - pets that were lucky enough to wander into the yards of people like my parents, and those who weren’t so fortunate. So here’s to Butters - may you rest in peace. No matter what you choose to call heaven, I’m sure that right now Butters is there; napping someplace soft and warm and will wake in a bit to chase a nut or small bit of string. We will miss him.

Melanie

If you know me very well, you know I have designated a larger than advisable portion of my brain as a warehouse for useless pop culture trivia. One of my biggest stockpiles is the Academy Awards. Never argue with me over which movie won which award in which year. I will always win. I even have a list of all the movies that won Best Picture - I place a checkmark next to each movie once I’ve seen it. Someday, I will have seen every movie to win Best Picture - I’ve been working on this since 1993. I could’ve finished years ago, but I like to take my time with this sort of thing. So every year since about 1991 I’ve watched every movie that is nominated for Best Picture before the awards are given out so that I can make my own opinion about which one should win and which one will win. I’m almost always right. I’ve made inaccurate predictions only once. I’ve dissagreed a couple of times, in 1995 I felt that Shawshank Redemption should have won over Forrest Gump, and in 1998 anything else should have won over Titanic - Good Will Hunting, LA Confidential, As Good as it Gets, and Full Monty were all better movies. But this was the first year I not only didn’t agree with the Best Picture Winner, I made the wrong prediction. I correctly predicted all 4 acting categories, both screenplays, film editing, and director. I even agreed with most of them - except actor - I knew Leonardo DiCaprio had no chance, but he deserved the Oscar over Jamie Foxx. I don’t care that Jamie Foxx really couldn’t see during filming - that makes him less deserving - he didn’t have to act blind. Howard Hughes was a much more demanding role. So anyway, Best Picture - I predicted The Aviator. I watched all the nominated films. Finding Neverland is the only one I would probably watch again. It was kind of a weak year. I would probably watch Sideways again if it came on TV, I would not watch Ray again and I probably wouldn’t watch Million Dollar Baby again, I wouldn’t watch the Aviator again only because if I have 3 hours to spare I’ll watch something I haven’t seen before. So Million Dollar Baby won, and I can only assume that this has everything to do with Hollywood’s love affair with Clint Eastwood. I knew Scorsese wouldn’t get the director Oscar, I figured they’d give it to Clint, but I really, really thought The Aviator would end up on top. Don’t get me wrong, Million Dollar Baby was a good movie - Morgan Freeman was great, Clint Eastwood, while playing the same character he’s played for the last decade was still good, and I don’t have the problem with Hillary Swank that my husband does (I really don’t care that she looks like a man - her body looked fantastic in this movie so I didn’t really notice her face), but the story was very predictable and not at all original. It lacked the “wow factor” that most Best Picture winners create. I usually can predict the winner because it’s the movie that when I watch it in the theater I think, “Wow, this is amazing.” Almost all Best Picture nominees are amazing in some regard - it may be a great story, or perfect acting, or a fantastic set - but the winner usually has multiple wow factors. Million Dollar Baby had one wow factor and that was the perfect acting. It had nothing else. The Aviator on the other hand had more. Cate Blanchett won for her portrayal of Katherine Hepburn and Leo was nominated for his Howard Hughes, so I think it’s safe to say that the movie was well acted. The sets and costumes were stunning. The story was fascinating, and despite the 2 hour and 40+ minutes runtime, the editing was right on. Everything from the camera shots to the music was impressive. I’m at a loss to explain why this movie was passed over for a very ordinary Million Dollar Baby.

At night, inside the house of Sharp
A creature tiptoes in the dark
To pacify the urge to chew
The creature nabs a human’s shoe
Such pleasures only charm so long
When no one’s there to say it’s wrong
Around the doorway, down the stairs
To sniff a cat perched on a chair
A skillful nose detects a treat
Cat cookies simply can’t be beat
Important business now aside
The creature needs to go outside
Depsite it’s desperate whines and moans
It can not wake the human bones
Best effort given, it waits no more
It squats above the moonlit floor
The creature leaves the mess behind
Intent upon more fun to find
What pleasant luck to simply happen
Upon a pile of fast food napkins
This frolic could go on all night
If not for mornings first sunlight
For that is when it’s plain to see
Such capers aren’t reality
A dream while sleeping sadly fettered
But she would if we would let her

Melanie

Over the holidays, I met someone who has, I believe, taken me and my sister’s place as favored people in the eyes of my father. This someone is a small, rat-like, stealer of nuts, batter of small objects, and licker of other people’s food. This someone is Butters - a kitten. My parents brought this beast into their home several weeks ago and he has managed to wrap my father around his finger to an extent I could have hardly imagined. So my parents did indeed name this kitten after Leopold “Butters” Stoch of South Park fame, but they were unaware that Butters has an alter ego - Captain Chaos. Discovering that bit of info made a lot of sense to my parents - Butters the cat also spends a good amount of time acting as Captain Chaos, but he is one of the cutest cats I’ve ever seen. He’s about 4 months old and has not figured out how to control his purr - he automatically starts purring the second you pick him up - even when he’s struggling to get away. Check out the Gallery for pics of this magnificent cat.
Anyway, onto other things - It was a good trip, once we got there that is. Our flight from DFW to Ft. Smith was cancelled so we had to find other arrangements. Luckily Clint’s dad and his pilot’s license were able to get us to Fort Smith a lot earlier than American Airlines was able to. We also had trouble getting back home. We were supposed to get home at 9:30pm on Monday - that didn’t happen. Our flight out of Ft. Smith was delayed, and then we had to circle outside of DFW because of weather and by the time we landed our Seattle connection had left. So we tried standby on two flights but got neither so we finally got a flight to Las Vegas at around midnight with a flight to Seattle at 9:30 the next morning. We had to run to make the Las Vegas flight and wouldn’t have made it if the gate agent hadn’t been nice enough to get the plane to move back and extend the walkway so we could board. We spent the rest of the night watching Harry Potter on the laptop and then managed to get an earlier flight to Seattle so by 11am we were home. So I had a whole day to get the house clean and such so we’d be ready for Maggie’s arrival on Wednesday. Speaking of Maggie, she is currently taking a nap which is nice. Earlier, she was trying to help me type - didn’t work out too well, she would be much more efficient if I needed someone to chew through the power cord. Anyway, so my last couple of weeks has been all about cats, dogs, and American Airlines complete inability to get me to any of my destinations. So now I think I’ll watch a little King of the Hill and go to bed.

’till then

What follows this introduction is something that I fully intended to write, save as private, and probably never let it see the light of day. But considering the subject, that would prove everything I’ve written a lie. It isn’t that it’s intensely personal - it isn’t. It isn’t that it’s embarassing - not even a bit. It’s that it truly isn’t all that interesting. So know that if you’re reading this, it isn’t meant to be ground-breaking or deeply philosophical; not for anyone but me.

Recently, I almost died. I don’t mean that in a “I was so mortified I almost died” way, or a “This car came out of nowhere - seriously, I almost died” way either. I mean that I really, truly, medically, almost died. Technically, I was dying. Now the only type of almost death I can speak of is the “my body is bleeding from areas that need blood and into areas that don’t” way so I don’t know how it feels if one were dying of poisoning or cancer. I wonder if others who’ve almost died knew that they were dying? I know that when the process began, I kept telling myself I was fine, but I had this nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. By the time I called 911 I was positive what was happening was serious. I’d like to say that I called 911 because I wanted to live and knew that medical attention was the only way for that to happen. That statement is mostly true - but there was a part of me that called only because I wasn’t sure how long it would take to die and was scared of the idea that it could still be going on for hours. How much more pain would there be? Would I soon pass out and die without knowledge of the event? What if I threw up? What if no one realized I was dead for days and I started to rot? It was thoughts like those that gave me the will to climb the stairs for a change of clothes (can’t go to the hospital in just panties), decide to place life higher on the list of desires than an overnight bag, and focus more attention than I thought I possessed on one spot of light to keep me in the here and now long enough to make the phone call. Thinking back on the events of that night makes me want to laugh and cry. Laugh because it was insane of me to think I could actually pack a bag, because I was so concerned that my shoes didn’t match, because the EMT really thought an IV would cause more pain than I was already feeling, and for other reasons as well. I want to cry for those same reasons. Am I so vain that I’d risk my life to put on makeup? Am I so stupid that I would keep ignoring obvious symptoms to the point of losing the ability make a phone call to save my life? Am I so crazy that my fear of vomit was worse than death? And why did I think for one second that maybe it would be ok to just close my eyes and just let it happen? I’d always thought that if were stranded in the Andes Mountains by a plane crash, or trapped in a burning building, or standing face to face with someone intent on killing me, or suffering with some life-threatening disease that I would fight to stay alive. I’d still like to think that, but truth is - I don’t know. I could spend the rest of my life playing out scenarios in my mind - but I choose not to. I finally realized that asking myself questions likethe ones posed above is a waste of time. The only thing I know for certain is that right now I am alive. More importantly, I have chosen to be alive. For the first time I understand what it means to be alive and in realizing that, I’ve decided to make some changes. I’ve already decided to take better care of myself. That’s a pretty big improvement on my physical being. On the emotional level, I’ve always been pretty satisfied - but I can do better. One of the reasons I made that phone call was that I had a husband who would never forgive himself for being gone, family that would be heartbroken, and a friend who would miss me terribly and feel responsible for not forcing me to go to the hospital. There were a small group of people that I thought of that night. I talked to them the next day - they expressed concern and sent me flowers. Those are the people I’d like to keep in my life. I’ve always had a habit of trying to keep relationships alive that should have died a long time ago. I don’t think I’ll waste anymore of my time or effort on those. Now I’m not saying it’s necessary to just write off anyone who isn’t on the short list of people to notify in the event of emergency - just that I have a number of people who are important to me and I choose to spend my time keeping those relationships healthy instead of the ones that aren’t that healthy to begin with. I’ve also decided that I’m not going to apologize for the things I do. If I hurt someone, I’ll apologize for the hurt (if I’m truly sorry), but I don’t think I’ll apologize for whatever action caused the hurt. If I’m careless and I hit my husband with a hammer, I’ll apologize for hurting him, but not for being careless with the hammer. I’ll admit I made a mistake, if I think one was made, but I won’t apologize for it. The distinction might be slight, but it does exist. I never intend to hurt someone - but whatever I did to cause that hurt was intended or I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.

A little over a week ago, my husband made the mistake of mentioning that he missed having a dog. Of course, I jumped on the opportunity such a statement provided and within an hour, we decided we would get a dog. We had planned on waiting until we got back from Arkansas (for the holidays) to make a final decision. At that time, Clint set about making a plan of his own; to surprise me with a dog for Christmas. Of course, this secret lasted about 4 days before I figured it out. We had already been talking about getting a Goldendoodle (Golden Retriever and Poodle mix) because from everything we’ve read, they are great dogs for apartment life. Luckily, we knew a breeder and now we are just waiting to fly to Arkansas so that we can meet the new addition to our family. I am holding off naming her until I meet her, but when I saw the pictures I immediately thought she looked like a Maggie. Billie (who picked her out) agreed that she did indeed look and act like a Maggie, and Loretta (Billie’s aunt and breeder of the beast) confirmed that Maggie suits her well. We may change it upon meeting her, but right now, we’re calling her Maggie.
So, I present to you, the amazing Maggie:

You can see more pictures of this adorable puppy by going here

Passing through the living room a minute ago, I heard what I think may be the worst analogy ever. Crossfire is on and I have no idea who our host on the right is - Tucker and Bob seem to be absent today - whoever he is, the topic is sex education. The guest on the left must have been talking about Planned Parenthood (or Evil Satanist’s if you prefer), mystery host on the right responds,

“Passing out condoms in high school is like passing out cookbooks at a fat farm.”

I’m no queen of the analogy, but I could have come up with something much better than this. I don’t even care if they pass out condoms in schools - I’ll care more if/when I have a teenage child - there are problems with both sides of the argument. But back to the analogy, seems to me passing out cookbooks in a fat farm might be a good idea. I’m not familiar with every overweight person’s history, but research shows that one of the biggest contributors to obesity (if not the biggest) is unhealthy eating habits. The majority of cookbooks on the market are either the Better Homes and Garden variety type of cookbook or weight loss specific and these types of cookbooks all include a section on the food pyramid and healthy eating. They also include an abundance of low fat recipes. I guess one could say that the fundamental right’s solution to teen pregnancy is about as enlightened as an anorexic’s solution to body fat.
Tucker and Bob should never be allowed to go on vacation, Paul and James’s usual replacement (her name escapes me - but she usually gets some good one-liners in) is much better.

Mel

Two news items caught my eye in recent days. Actually, many articles have caught my eye considering the interesting week we’ve had newswise. From the removal to 2 more Scott Peterson Jurors and the subsequent verdict, to the death of Arafat, you could say there’s been a lot going on. But those stories are pretty straight forward and really don’t need any commentary. But, 2 things in particular really raised my hackles.

The first is the news that Vitamin E could be bad for you if taken in really large doses. Wow! No kidding? I’m 30 years old and in my lifetime I’ve heard this news story at least 100 times - just substitute “vitamin e” with beef, eggs, sugar, alcohol, etc. Is the concept of “everything in moderation” so difficult to understand. Apparently it is. So we can all expect to start seeing new supplements touting thier own “safe alternatives to vitamin e”. Within a year or two people will be treating vitamin e with the same insane fear as those “evil” carbohydrates. Speaking of this low or no carb craze, I want to say that for the first time in years, I weigh less than 125 lbs. (122.3) to be exact, the majority of my clothes are too big or unflattering in their unshapelyness. Luckily I’ve always wished for a smaller bust - luckily because even bras I purchased when I was 19 (yes, I kept a couple of bras from that era because I grew out of them so fast they never got worn) are a wee bit oversized. And even more amazing than breaking the 125 barrier is that I’ve done this without purchasing one book with “weight loss” in the title. It all boils down to healthy eating and even more importantly, exercise. Which really means; everything in moderation. What a concept .

Onto the second item.
It seems that Michael Moore is planning a sequel to Fahrenheit 911. As I’ve stated before, I don’t have a problem with Moore making movies of these sorts, but he’s really a bit mislead in his beliefs as to his contribution. With this film, I don’t take issue with his decision to make a sequel, but I have issue with something he said about why he is doing it:
“Fifty-one percent of the American people lacked information (in this election) and we want to educate and enlighten them,”
I can only assume that the 51% he speaks of, would be every single American who voted for Bush. The belief that every vote cast for Bush was a vote cast in confusion or stupidity is highly insulting - even for him. Sorry to say, but many people voted for Bush with full understanding of the truth about weapons of mass destruction, the war in Iraq, the Patriot Act, etc. Moore suffers from the same syndrome as poeple like Rush Limbaugh, Neil Bortz, and Dr. Laura - the belief that if you don’t agree with their point of view, you must not have the information they have. It’s a bad belief - you’re not likely to keep many friends if you truly feel this way.

Like everyone else in the world, I love movies. And while a good drama or comedy is always good, nothing compares to the horror film. This disturbing desire for something to scare the shit out of me is in my blood. My parents went to see The Exorcist at the drive in when I was a baby (I hear my growling back at Linda Blair was creepier for my parents than the actual movie), and snarling monsters, shrieking ghosts, and screaming damnsels in distress were pretty much a staple at my house. As much as I love horror, I’m very rarely frightened. So I spend a lot of time in front of the TV hoping against hope to be scared out of my wits. Every once in a while a movie gives me a start. So since Halloween is around the corner, and becasue I love lists, I give you my top 10 movies that actually managed to give me a case of the willies.

10. The Exorcist - Possession isn’t always creepy, but when it’s a little girl who says things like, “Your mother sucks cock in hell” to a priest - it’s just unsettling. I know most people pick the head-spinning scene as the scariest, but personally the image of the vandalized statue in the church sets the stage for the whole movie - it also makes me feel super uneasy.
9. Flatliners - This isn’t a great movie, but luckily, greatness isn’t a criteria for establishing horror. This movie has a few jumps, but it also tends to stick with you for a while, especially when you go to bed. The movie has great atmosphere, which puts you in the right mood to be a little nervous during Kiefer Sutherland’s nightmares of a vengeful child he tortured in his youth. Julia Robert’s dead dad is pretty eerie too.
8. Dementia 13 - I’m betting not too many people have seen this movie. This was Francis Ford Coppola’s first film and it’s a decent story. A woman spends time with her husband’s family in Ireland and attempts to work the death of her husband’s little sister to her advantage. It has two pretty terrifying moments. (1) The discovery of the underwater grave (water is scary to me all by itself). (2) The younger brother tells the doctor about a dream he’s had since childhood. In his dream he’s standing next to his mother while there’s a man who is insane in the room with them. The man says that someone else in the room is also insane and when he nods his head, the other insane person will nod their head back. When he nods his head, the younger brother looks up and his mother for comfort and sees that she is nodding too.
7. Nosferatu - The original dracula is still the best. Black and white does well for horror and combined with it being a silent film, you just can’t watch this without feeling some serious unrest. What makes it so great is Max Schreck’s portrayal of Count Orlock (aka Dracula). He was so convincing there are actually rumors that he really was a vampire. But what really gets me are all the scenes of him floating across the rooms - which I’m sure was just the actor on roller skates of some kind being pulled across the room - and the wonderful use of shadow. The shots of the shadows of the vampire’s fingernails and hands reaching out to an unsuspecting victim have been the inspiration for images in A Nightmare on Elm Street and Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
6. The Ring - Most modern horror movies rely on gore to frighten the audience, and usually at the cost of decent story and atmosphere. But not this one. There is some gore, but it’s well placed and isn’t intended to be the main gimmick. The plot is laughable, but it works. The best scene is the final scene where we finally get to see Samara in action. I hear the original is scarier. I’ve got it on my Netflix rental queue so I’ll know soon enough.
5. Halloween - Another classic, but it really does stand the test of time. I don’t know how dangerous a man that could be easily outrun by my grandmother could be, but he sure seems to create a good amount of havoc. Everyone’s got their favorite scene, but for me it’s the hanging sheets scene. You know, where Jamie Lee Curtis looks out her window to catch a glimpse of him between the billowing sheets on a clothesline? Super creepy.
4. Suspiria - Off all the movies on this list, this one is probably my favorite. I love, love, love this film. The plot is insanely lame, but the visuals and the soundtrack more than make up for it. The acting is also pretty bad, though I think this can mostly be blamed on the fact that the film was originally intended to feature a cast of girls under the age of 12. Due to it’s graphic nature, this was changed to older girls, but the dialog was never re-written. It makes the coversations akward at best - and ridiculous at worst. Basically the plot is an American dancer (ballet) travels to Europe to train at a famous school where she uncovers a devious secret. The visuals are amazing - the sets are all vibrant reds and blues, the school is breathtaking, and the music makes you a little uneasy right from the beginning. The music is mostly one track that sounds like a music box, but it’s spooky. The opening murder scene is, in my opinion, the most gruesome and fantastic murder scene in the history of horror.
3. Night of the Living Dead(1968) - This is the only movie that creeped me out as a kid and can still make me check the locks twice and run quickly across the hall to the bathroom in the middle of the night. This is also the only zombie movie I think is worth a shit. Zombie movies just don’t do it for me. Low budget at it’s finest, this movie has some truly terrifying moments. When I was a kid the dead body dripping blood from the upstairs landing was about as scary as scary could get - and I’m happy to say that even as I type this, I’m not looking forward to going upstairs. But what will keep me from going outside for one last cig is the opening scene in the cemetary. “They’re coming for you Barbara, they’re coming for you.”
2. The Exorcist III - Ahh, here we are at the one movie that makes me curl into a ball on the sofa, hug my pillow tight, and whisper with fearful delight, “it’s coming, it’s coming.” The “it” to which I refer is the one scene that scares every person I’ve ever met - the hospital hallway scene. If you haven’t seen this movie, don’t worry about it being ruined, knowning what’s going to happen doesn’t take away any of the scare. I don’t know why this scene is so damn frightening, but it is . When I watch that nurse walk around, performing various tasks while every other person in the area walks away, I’m never prepared for the genuine terror I feel when she walks down a hall I can’t see and that “thing” dressed in a sheet carrying garden shears follows her down that hall. That scene lasts maybe 5 seconds, but it is 5 seconds of pure terror.
1. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre(1974) - Scoff if you will, but for keeping me in a state of true anxeity, my money’s on this one. Leatherface is pretty damn spooky on his own, but combined with the cruelness of this film, nothing could be more horrific. I know I’m reusing my adjectives, but cruel is the only word that really fits the mood. The actors in this film aren’t the best, but because they were truly afraid during the filming (most of the blood on Sally is real) you forget it’s only a story. Contrary to popular belief, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is not based on a true story. The discovery of the room full of bones is taken from descriptions of real-life killer Ed Gein’s home, and while Gein did wear the skins of his victims, his story is very different. Some of the characters are so annoying, Franklin in particular, that you root for them to face the chainsaw, but this just adds to the horror. The fact that you identify with the monster makes it hard to decide what to be afraid of. And you have to feel some sympathy for anyone who was rasied in that family. The scene where they decide to let grandpa take a crack at Sally is pathetic, shocking, and oh so cruel. If you can get all those feelings rolled into one package, you deserve the number 1 spot on my list of scariest movies.
So there it is, I know there are tons of movies that give others a big ‘ol case of the willies, and some of them I’m sure I haven’t seen. So if you also don’t scare easy, and know a movie that wasn’t listed but scares the shit out of you, let me know. I’ll pop some popcorn, turn down the lights, and snuggle up close with a cat (because my husband is way too much of a weenie to watch them with me - I can make him squeal like a little girl by saying “Danny….. come play with us Danny… forever and ever”) and give it a chance.

Happy Halloween
Melanie

I’m a casual baseball fan. I used to be a big fan but after the Pirates lost all their great players and stopped winning games I stopped following it as much. I tried to rekindle my love for Anahiem, and the 2002 series certainly didn’t disappoint, but it just didn’t get me going the way it used to. When we moved here I thought I’d try to be a Mariner’s fan…………. but we all can guess how that went. It’s hard being teamless, but it does allow for you to throw your support behind a great story. At this moment, I’m glad I have no loyalties. I’m certainly not a Red Sox fan, but hell, how can you not be rooting for them right now? Game 6 hasn’t been as exciting so far as 4 and 5, but I’m actually hoping they won’t go into extra innings on this one - I actually have other things I need to do tonight. While the ALCS games have been pretty awesome, I can’t say the same for the National League. My dad would kill me for saying this, but if the Cards keep playing like they’ve played the last couple of games - they don’t deserve to go to the world series. I’d like to see them in it. They had a killer season, but those last two games were just poor. I don’t know anyone who isn’t hoping to see Boston and St. Louis in it this year. Of course, that’s cause I don’t know any Yankee or Astro fans - if you’re a Yankee fan, know that I hate you Not as much as any Braves fans, but close. So while I sit here and enjoy Boston’s lead I’m going to do a bit of complaining - about somoene I dislike not as much as an average Braves fan, but again, close. Ooh - hold on - you can’t slap the ball out of somebody’s hand. Let’s see what the umps are going to say. Wooohoooo - Yankees fans are not happy - back to a 4-2 lead for the Sox. Ok, back to annoying bastards. I was all set to watch this stupid Fahrenheit 911 movie just so I could say I’ve seen it. My reasons for not looking forward to it weren’t that I necessarily disagree with it’s message, but that I can’t stand to see anyone stomp around, waving their hands in the air, and screaming about the injustices they believe surround them. I didn’t buy Ann Coulter’s books either. I’m sure some would say that’s not wise and that I should “listen to the truth” or “know my enemy”. But I would say to them - I know my enemy, it’s the damn misrepresenters of fact. I know their game and I know how easy it is to manipulate facts any way you want. Well, I was going to watch the movie anyway, but I’ve changed my mind. For the same reason the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth make me want to vote for John Kerry, Michael Moore makes me want to vote for Bush. This guy is beyond obnoxious. I was already peeved that he’s a complete media whore….

Baseball break - they’re bringing out police in riot gear - I’m going on record right now - the American League playoffs will be more exciting than the World Series. Not that this is uncommon - Frequently, the “big game” is a disappointment compared to one or two of the “smaller ones” leading up to it.

Media whore …. now he’s working on a new film. Apparently, he dug deep into his vat of knowledge and decided that the pharmaceutical industry was bad and needed to be exposed. Why he chose this as his new target is a mystery. I mean, both Bush and Kerry have singled out drug companies as a big evil contributor to the “disaster” that is our health care system. The average person is going to be with him from the beginning. Mainly because the average person is a moron and says to themselves, “yeah, when I had syphillis I had to pay a lot of money for the medication to treat it, and these drug companies are getting fat while I had to eat ramen noodles for a month to pay for my drugs…. drug companies are evil.” The average moron (Michael Moore included) doesn’t consider the billions and billions of dollars that go into R/D to make a pill that will lower your blood pressure, heal damage to your esophagus, allow you to play chess with your grandson, and cure your venereal disease. So yeah, drug companies are evil - let’s make laws that make it an unprofitable industry so that all the good developers quit - great plan. Here’s my next reason for why this whole thing annoys me. Moore has offered Doctors $50,000 if they’ll let him install hidden cameras in their break rooms and sample closets, and $5,000 to any pharmaceutical rep who’ll give him info. This is the same logic employed by Mike Damone in Fast Times at Ridgemont High - “If you put out the vibe to 50 -60 girls eventually one of them’s gonna bite.” If he succeds, he’ll find some bad reps , but big deal, I could find some bad teachers, factory workers, lawyers, programmers, or ministers. Also, no decent rep is going to risk his or her job for $5,000. If they do, they were on the verge of getting fired anyway.

Did you know that the Sox are one out away from being the only team in baseball history to come back from a 3 game deficit?
This suspense is killing ….. .oh, it’s over. Get those boys out of there before there’s a riot. Game 7 is on - Did you know that God touched Curt Schilling? That’s what he says, he’s also proud of his teammates. Uh - oh, coach says Schilling got through on heart - now I’m confused, was he touched by God or did his heart pull him through?

Ok, bad drug reps - they exist. Michael Moore sucks, and just to make sure I mention something about all the things in the title: loosing weight, the low carb craze pisses me off. There is one way to loose weight - burn more calories than you eat. If you follow healthy eating habits and exercise, you will not be obese. Unless you have a real condition that prohibits this - and I mean a real condition, not some imagined, “I’m big boned”, “I have a thyroid problem”, “It runs in my family” line of crap.
I recognize that a real thyroid problem can result in weight problems, but the percentage of people who blame their weight on this far outweighs the percentage of people actually afflicted with it.

Melanie

Before I begin this review, I want to acknowledge two things: 1. This review may contain a few spoilers. If you haven’t read the book and want to some day, consider yourself warned (though if you possess half a brain, there’s not much I can give away that won’t be obvious within the first 100 pages) 2. I predicted it would take me 2 to 3 weeks to read this book - don’t take the 3 months it took me as a sign that it would really take this long to read it. In fact this is a 2 week read - I just spread my 2 weeks over a course of months due to a couple of snags.

Being a reader all of my life, I have indentified certain criteria for which I judge the merit of a novel. I expect anyone who has spent a good portion of their free time with books has done the same. My standards are:

Plot - Not just that the story itself is good, but that the story moves along well and is both plausable and unique.
Characters - I want the characters to be well defined and three - dimensional. It’s also important for at least one or two of the characters to be likable enough that I care what happens to them.
Atmosphere - I need to feel that I am standing next to the characters, experiencing the story as they are. If I’m not brought into a novel, there’s no hope of it evoking an emotional response from me - which is important.
Grammer and Style - I don’t read a book, red pen in hand, ready to make corrections. I want an author to observe proper form and usuage only my for my own ease of reading. The two things that annoy me more than any other are bad dialog attribution and wordiness.
Knowledge - While I read primarily for pleasure, I feel slightly let-down if I close a book without gaining some knowledge. It doesn’t matter if what I learned was how a small town in Maine smells on an autumn evening or the motivation behind the French Revolution. I just want to come away from the book with a new bit of information.

Based on these standards, this is my opinion of Atlas Shrugged.

Plot: This is a great story. I never thought a railroad or a steel mill could be so interesting. The story is merely a backdrop for theory, but it’s a good backdrop. The story does drag in a few places, but these instances are usually due to elements other than the plot itself.

Characters: Overall, the characters worked. Dagny and Rearden were well defined, believable, and likeable (to me at least, I understand there are some who took the looters’ perspective). I had a problem wtih Eddie Willers simply because he seemed very flat. It’s debatable as to whether or not his character was even necessary. I personally feel he wasn’t, the only information he held was obvious from the beginning. Clint thinks he was necessary to bridge the gap between the great minds and the workers - and I agree that a bridge was a good idea. I just don’t think Eddie Willers really offered us much to relate to. Francisco was both laughable and endearing so I can’t complain about him. My only real complaint is that we weren’t given any backstory on the Washington boys to explain their reasons for behaving as they did. Jim Taggart gets the most backstory, but it lacked any real substance. I was also a bit disturbed that so many of these men were so “beautiful”. How can both Rearden and Francisco be the ideal of a man in Dagny’s mind. I’m glad that Ellis Wyatt, Ken Dannager, and Owen Kellogg weren’t so devestatingly attractive or the book could have been retitled “Dagny the Slut”. Interestingly, Clint cites Francisco as his favorite character - I would choose Rearden.

Atmosphere: Again, overall very good. Ayn Rand did an excellant job of luring me into the setting and making me feel as if I were actually seeing and hearing rather than reading words. I feel that I could navigate my way through the Taggart Terminal, or recognize the face of Francisco d’Anconia. I felt pride for the accomplishments of the industrialists and digust at the actions of the looters. Of course, I grew weary of hearing about Dagny’s angular appearance and the mouth that was sensual in spite of the nature of the woman. Halfway through the book I was wishing desperately for an accident that would render her armless or blind so that I could get a new description. I was aware that she was thin by chapter two - why keep bringing it up?

Grammer and Style: Ayn Rand needed an editor. Everything that is wrong with this book is the direct fault of Rand’s shortcommings as a writer and the absense of the editor. Where was the editor? I don’t know - but this book should have been about 400 pages lighter. I said that I have two pet peeves - bad dialog attribution and wordiness - this is rather unfortunate for the author. Let’s start with dialog attribution. Take a look at this sentence:
“We … can’t … let … this … happen …”, Bob said slowly.
I ask you, is “slowly” really necessary? The three dots in between each word indicate Bob said it slowly.
How about this one:
Ann slammed her fist on the desk. “Get me that report now.”, she cried angrily.
Is “angrily” necessary? No, we know she’s angry because she slammed her fist on the desk.
I don’t like having my intelligence insulted or my time wasted by this kind of drivel. I also dislike having to go back to the beginning of a discussion to count lines so I can figure out who the hell is saying what. I don’t know if there is a standard on how many lines one should write without attributing dialog to a speaker, but I’m guessing somewhere around 6 is the limit for the average reader. This book is full of useless adverbs and confusing exchanges. If you’ve made it past 500 pages, you’re aware that if Jim Taggart says “I can’t be blamed”, he shrieks it. If Rearden says “What do you want?”, he says it in a flat and confident tone. Ayn Rand failed to respect the intelligence of her reader in this way.
At the risk of falling victim to my second pet peeve, I will move on to wordiness.
Of all the examples and criticisms I could dredge up, the John Galt speach is the only one necessary. By the time this speach rolls around I had read 915 pages expressing all of the ideas this speach contains. If this information could have been conveyed in the 64 pages it takes to make this speach, why wasn’t it done? I understand that certain events had to occur before the resolution could make any sense, but too much of this book was spent on characters over explaining themselves, driving points into the ground, and then bringing the same theory up 20 pages later in a different setting. I’ve got more to say on this but it really fits better into the knowledge standard so we’ll come back to it there. On with the speach. This speach only had four or five points, but each one is explained several different ways in excruciating detail. If the reader hasn’t grasped the concept of cause and effect by this point I can’t imagine they had the mental ability to get through the first chapter. I understand that the whole nation had to hear this speach, but since the reader already heard it (several times), couldn’t we have moved on to something else. We don’t read Dagny’s explanation of her month long hiatus to Rearden because we were there - we saw it first hand. Why, oh why, did we have to hear that speach for the millionth time? This tendency towards wordiness is apparent in every single page. Ayn Rand would describe my decision of which pants to wear as such:
She stood in front of her closet. In front of the closet she stood. She glanced at a pair of black trousers, then at a pair of tan trousers. She liked the black ones better. The black ones pleased her at this moment. A cooper wire broke in a phone booth in Montana. In front of her closet, she choose the black, not the tan, but the black trousers, which were black.

Knowledge: I have heard it said by many people that this is “my favorite book” and that “it made me change the way I think”. This will not be my favorite book, and overall, it has not made me change the way I think. I could talk for weeks on why it has not changed the way I think so I’m only going to try and identify a couple of the main reasons. If I had read this book when I was 16, I think it would have made a much bigger impact. There wasn’t a theory or belief expressed by the industrialists that I wasn’t already familiar with because I have worked and lived. Because I’m familiar with Communism and Democrats, I’m also aware of the theories and beliefs expressed by the “looters”. There were a couple of ideas that did influence or solidify a connection. For example, I’ve always been put off by hearing someone express their desire for someone to “love me for myself”. I now know why this has always disturbed me. The bulk of the theory was not earth shattering or unique - even at the time it was written. I will say that because of my interests, it’s possible I may have been exposed to a lot of philosophy the average reader would not have been familiar with. I will also say that in the many coversations I’ve had with many different people, these philosophies are quite common - and a majority of these poeple do not hold my particualr interests and have not read Atlas Shrugged.
Regardless of these facts, I do not consider the time I spent reading Atlas Shrugged wasted. The ideas expressed are commonplace, but it never hurts to be reminded of them. For the record, I sided with the Hank Reardens and not those acting on the supposed interests of public welfare.

In summation, I enjoyed the book. It was an interesting story full of memorable characters and events. I think the ending was pretty ridiculous, but we can’t have everything. Clint was unhappy with Dagny’s decision to return, and while I think it was necessary for both the reader and Dagny to understand the alternative - the book probably could have ended there and been essentially the same. Possibly the motivation for such an ending can best be understood by looking at the important works of Edward Gorey. One of his finest examples of storytelling, The Unstrung Harp; or, Mr. Earbass writes a novel, may give us answers. Early in Mr. Earbass’s process, we read:
“He cannot help but feel that Lirp’s return and almost immediate impalement on the bottle-tree was one of his better ideas.”
Later we discover,
“He is engaged in making diagrams of possible routes and destinations, and wishing he had not dealt so summarily with Lirp, who would have been useful for taking retributive measures at the end of Part Three. At the moment there is no other character capable of them.”

Goodnight,
Mel
PS - I was only kidding with the Democrat statment… kind … of … , she added slowly.

To the person who thought that the best way to deal with their misguided anger was to attempt communication in a really asinine way, I have a message for you:

You know who you are and so do we.

Well we had a little excitement around here today. It seems that some asswipe went over to our house in Fort Smith and spray painted a “highly intellectual” message on the back porch. All things considered, we have a pretty good idea who is behind this. The evidence initially pointed at one person, a person I’ll call suspect #1. But a re-evaluation of the evidence (which is largely the testimony of one nosy neighbor who looks out her window a lot), and an investigation (including pictures of the crime scene) shed some doubt on #1. Suspect #2 is also a big contender - more-so now that I’ve seen the pics. I simply believe #1 would have done a better job of writing the message. Both #1 and #2 are equally cabable of concocting a scheme of such inadequate porportions. I’m sure the process started with either alcohol or drugs, or both. After the mind altering effects set in, self pity and doubt began to take their toll. After a bit of wallowing in how miserable they had made their life, they realized that the best way to cope with one’s own inability is to blame others. This is where Clint and Melanie enter the picture. You see, both these individuals are under the inaccurate assumption that Clint and/or I have somehow contributed or are even responsible for their miserable lot in life. So this person decided it was a good idea to drive to our house, armed with a can of spray paint, and deliver a message. Here is where I am going to shift the voice of this post. I am now speaking directly to suspect #1 and #2:
Hear this, and hear it well - to know you is to know with 100% certainty that you are capable of destroying yourself completely on your own. This is not the first time you’ve found yourself in a downspin and it most likely won’t be the last. Do you have any interest in knowing why you continually do this? It is because you make bad decisions. You think that you are choosing the noble path - the high road - but you are in fact choosing the path of least resistance. You each truly believe that to stay in a bad, unpleasant, or dead-end situation is somehow admirable. You think you’ll stick it out, give it another chance, and that somehow you will be able to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. You are emotionally driven. You are overly sensetive (though you manifest this in different ways), and you spend way too much time obsessing over what others say or do. You are also both score keepers, constantly checking where your mark is in relation to others and comparing good and bad deeds. One of you is so filled with rage it is a wonder you are able to function. One of you is so indecisive I’m amazed you are able to dress yourself in the morning. One of you has, to my knowledge, never kept a friend, and one of you, to my knowledge, has never had a friend at all. One of you believes that if you pretend to by “better”, you will simply become that way without any actual effort. One of you believes that others who have more than you think that they are “better” and are thereby keeping you down. One of you is, I fear, just plain evil. One of you is just plain stupid.

Whatever grievances you think you’ve edured, I think we are now even.

I’ll work on having our house restored to it’s previous condition, and you work on restoring your sanity.

You’re not the first to share my bed.
I’ve let others live inside my head.
For days I’ve kept you in my sights.
We’ve laughed, we’ve cried through these past nights.
And even though I’ve held you dear,
I see the end is drawing near.
I’ll shed my clothes and grab a coke.
We’ve only time for one last soak.
I’ve enjoyed your plot quite a bit.
Soon I’ll find a shelf for you to sit.
The water’s cold but there’s still pages to probe.
Just sit on the edge while I reach for my robe.
Oh no! Oh dear! Before my eyes.
You’ve grown to nearly twice your size.
I did not intend to bring you shame.
I might could use you just the same.
Tomorrow I’ll give you another try.
When time has passed to let you dry.
I’m truly sorry - I deserve your wrath.
I regret I dropped you in the bath.

Melanie

If you know Clint at all, you know one thing - he loves the Dave Matthews Band. Even though we were good friends before we began dating, I didn’t know this about him until we’d been dating for a month or so. I remember when I found out that this was his favorite band. I believe my exact response was “Of all the bands in the world, I hate the f*cking Dave Matthews Band more than any of them.” At that time, I meant it - I only knew them as the guys who did “Crash” and lumped them in with Matchbox 20, Ben Folds Five, and Oasis, all of which I disliked. After hearing DMB’s songs over and over for the past 5 years I have to admit that they now rank in my top 5 favorite bands. Actually, they might be #2 - right after Radiohead. Good thing too, cause this past weekend was a fun-filled Dave Matthews extravaganza. As soon as we decided to move to Seattle (actually Redmond, but close enough) I knew that we’d be attending the 3 day concert at the Gorge in George, Wa since it’s only a 2 hour drive. We actually only went to the 2nd and 3rd shows, but still. So on Saturday morning we got up early, packed the up our stuff, and set out for the Gorgeous Gorge in George. I don’t know how many people were camping out there, but it was a lot - we camped way in the back which was actually pretty good because until Sunday evening, there weren’t too many people around. We got to the venue around 5:15pm and it really is a spectacular amphitheatre. You can view pics here . While it was about 85 degrees during the day, when the sun went down it got cold. We had a blanket and sweaters, but we were still decently chilly. The band took the stage around 8:15 and started off with one of my favorites, The Stone and then went into another favorite, Best of What’s Around, It was a great show, they played a lot of good songs and despite the fact that Everday is not a favorite, pairing it with a kick ass Don’t Drink the Water made for an awesome encore. Sunday morning we got up and hung out at the campsite all day reading, listening to our ipods, playing guitar (well, Clint played guitar), and snacking. Oh, and getting sunburned. The sunblock was one of the few things we used out of our carefully put-together first aid kit. We didn’t use enough of it apparently since my face is still a bit pink. We got to the Sunday night show a bit later, but still got better seats. All of the pics of the actual amphitheatre are from Sunday. You’re not supposed to take in cameras, but if you pack a backpack full of extra shirts, blankets, and jackets, the security girl will take pity on you after you’ve pulled it all out and not look into the bottom of the bag and see your camera. Sunday night’s show was even better than Saturday’s in spite of their playing Cry Freedom. It was a more upbeat setlist and included personal favorites Crush, Grace is Gone, Lover Lay Down, and all 4 of the new songs they’ve been playing - Hello Again and Sugar Will being particularily superb and closed with Two Step. And just when I thought things couldn’t get better for me, they came out with Rhyme and Reason and their cover of All Along the Watchtower for the encore. DMB is really one of those bands that you have to see live in order to fully appreciate. The show also left me with the best conversation overheard at a concert. I was walking back from the bathrooms which are right next to the beer garden when I overheard this little gem:

Irritated sounding girl to her obviously inebriated boyfriend: “You need to sober up.”
Obviously inebriated boyfriend to irritated girlfriend: “Yeaaahhh….. well.. you .. need to laugh more…. yeeaaahhh..”

Back at camp that night there were a lot more people camping than the previous night. One of the new campers were a group of Canadians. Now, I’ve never had a problem with Canadians before - I’ve always found them to be quite polite and nice. But these particular Canadians were a different story. Earlier in the day when they arrived, one of them was blaring some shitty hip-hop music. This was odd because it was the only time during the whole weekend that I heard anyone playing music that isn’t currently on my ipod. There was lots of DMB (obviously), and a lot of Jack Johnson - which was cool, I quite like Jack Johnson. I also heard a lot of Modest Mouse, Muse, Jason Mraz, and Red Hot Chili Peppers, which again, was totally cool with me. I spent most of my ipod time listening to Incubus, Radiohead, Modest Mouse, and PJ Harvey becasue I didn’t want to od on DMB, but others didn’t seem to have that concern. Back to the Canadians. So we were pretty tired and cold and generally ready to go to bed so around 1:00am we made our way to the tent. Many people still had their music playing and so it was no big deal that the Canadians had gathered outside with two guitars, bongo drums, and a harmonica. At first it wasn’t that bad - the guy who was singing was decent and while one of the guitars was slightly out of tune, and the bongo guy had obviously never played drums before - it was decently listenable. About an hour later, everyone else had turned off their music and gone to bed except for the Canadians. Within a few minutes the decent voice guy left with apparently the one guitar that was in tune and that’s when things really took a turn for the worse. These guys tried their hand at Gravedigger (off of Dave Matthews solo album), and failed miserably. I don’t think they had even one chord right. Then they moved onto Watchtower. I listened to them try and figure out the chords for a while - I thought about going over there and telling them “Am - G - F - G” (BTW- these are the chords for Dave’s version of Watchtower, not Dylan’s or Hendrix’s or anyone elses so don’t post a comment on how those chords are wrong) but I didn’t - though I regretted that decision for over 10 minutes after they had given up on finding the right chords and proceeded to play some that were very, very wrong. I’d also like to note that I really like that primal scream thing Dave does in many of his songs, Watchtower included, but Mr. Canada does not possess a voice that is capable of making it sound like anything other than a dying giraffe. If they had just gone on slaughtering Dave Matthews songs, I might have been ok. But they didn’t stop there. Oh no - what they did next is grounds for murder in my book. They …… attempted to play Creep …. by Radiohead. Now, Creep is one of my least favorite Radiohead songs but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it butchered. It was awful - they didn’t know any of the chords - they didn’t know more than half the words - and there is no… … I repeat, NO HARMONICA in Creep. They went on to play extreemly inaccurate versions of High and Dry and something that was mostly unrecognizable, but I think they were shooting for Fake Plastic Trees. Apparently they only purchased the first two Radiohead CD’s which I’m quite thankful for because they moved on to other stuff. It was really quite unpleasant. Did I mention that they were also very drunk? Normally, this would excuse some of the bad playing, but trust me, the level of alcohol that would make this kind of mayhem understandable would render a large Elephant unconscious. To quote Don Knotts, “The horribleness and awfulness of it will never be truly forgotten.”
Otherwise, it was a good time. The concert was fantastic, the camping was pretty decent, and I made it home in one piece.
If there are typos and such in the post, forgive me. I am trying to get this up quickly because Clint made it clear that he wanted his take on this weekend at the top because he’s the big fan and it was really his weekend - according to him
Cheers!
Mel

Until Wednesday, July 28, 2004, I had never called 911. My only experience with a 911 call was about 22 years ago when on a Girl Scout campout I tried to convince a friend that the police would indeed arrive if she dialed 911 from a pay phone and hung up. I was right, and all 12 of us had to sit and listen to the police officer lecture us on proper respect for our cities emergency services. I think I have a new story now that’s much more exciting. Until last week, I was being treated for a tubal pregnancy. Clint and I have been trying to get pregnant for over 2 years now, and we had finally seen a positive result on a pregnancy test. Unfortunately, within a couple of weeks we knew that this pregnancy was not going to to work out for us. Two and a half weeks ago I was given a shot to “treat” the ectopic pregnancy. Wednesday of the following week I began to have severe abdominal pain - seriously severe. I called my doctor and was told to take a couple of ibuprofen and rest. I talked to both Clint (who was in Antigua) and Billie that day and they urged me to call an ambulance if the pain continued as they both knew that I could be in danger of my tube rupturing - which is fatal if not treated quickly. By 8:00pm I was feeling really bad. Every time I tried to stand I broke out in a sweat, lost feeling in my hands and feet and felt as though I was going to pass out. Sometime around 9:30pm I called 911. They got here really fast and took my vitals which kept going up and down. I arrived at the ER of Overlake Hospital wearing a wrong-side-out dress and mismatched flip flops. I explained my situation to the nurses and they started all their hospitalish duties. My memory of that night’s events are pretty sketchy (espcially after the shot of whatever narcotics they plied me with), but I do recall certain highlights. I remember the doc coming in and explaining to me that my tube had ruptured, my belly was filling up with blood, and that immediate surgery was required. I remember some shitty nurse and his 3 attempts to properly insert a second iv - 2 tries in my right hand and 1 semi-successful attempt in the bend of my left arm. I had the ultrasound from hell - I’ve had many of them in the past, but this one was damn unpleasant. For those that don’t know, there are more than one type of ultrasound. There is the kind you’ve no doubt seen on TV where they smear some goo on your belly and scan a little whirly-gig around on your tummy. There is also a type which has a different name, but since this is a public site, I’ll term it the “internal” ultrasound. This consists mostly of a very long “wand” being thumped around inside of me. So imagine this already unpleasant procedure while having swollen organs and a ruptured fallopian tube. One thing that surprised me was how crazy the OR was. It’s was a lot like that scene in the South Park movie - except they didn’t replace my heart with a baked potato. When they wheeled me into the OR, it was so shiny and bright it was almost painful to keep my eyes open. At least 10 people were milling around in there, half of them trying to talk to me. “Are you allergic to anything?” “No.” “Have you eaten anything today?” “A handful of corn chips and some 7-Up.” “We’re going to be putting a tube down your throat.” “Fine, as long as you insert that tube after I’m asleep and remove it before I wake up.” Of course in hindsight I think a tube down my throat would have caused less discomfort than that evil catheter. At 6:00am I awoke and found myself in a nice, cozy room. A nurse was explaining the concept of a button that I could push to give myself some pain meds . At this time I’d like to note that Dilaudid is a very nice medication. Darvocet, which is what I chose once they took my IV out is a perfectly adequate pain med. Percocet, which is what I have now (I’m only taking one before bed now cause a week and a half later, I still can’t sleep on one side), is pretty effective. Back to the story. The doctor came in and briefed me on my condition. My right tube ruptured (probably around 5pm the previous night), and then split down it’s length. I had a good amount of internal bleeding, enough to require a transfusion. I should recover fine and what was once my right tube is now being stored in some lab. At that point I realized that I should probably make some phone calls. I called Clint first, and he began working on getting home. I called my mom, who didn’t realize who she was talking to until about 5 minutes into the phone call - I guess the early hour and my raspy voice (tube down the throat remember) threw her. And of course to Billie, who freaked and set about moving up her already planned trip out her so that she could help me out. In general, my hospital stay was quite pleasant. The food isn’t near as bad as I’ve heard, the nurses were nice as could be, and once that catheter was out, I was pretty comfortable on that hospital bed. Saturday afternoon I came home and both Clint and Billie have been doing a pretty good job of making sure that I eat, take my pain pills, and get plenty of rest. Even though in the last couple of days I’ve done more shopping than usual. All in all, I’m feeling good. I won’t be making babies the normal way, but we’re good candidates for In Vitro, though I’m not sure our checkbook is. It hurts to cough and laugh, but I supose that’s to be expected. I’m tired after all this typing and I think it’s time to take a Percocet and head to bed.
’till then,
Cheers.

Some of you are familiar with Clint’s talent as a nighttime conversationalist. For those of you who are not, let me assure you that his daytime wit and charm continues long after he has fallen asleep. I often climb into bed after he’s drifted off to la-la land, and if I’m lucky, I get to hear part of what I’m sure is a very interesting dream. Last night’s admission was of particular amusment - so much so that I have added it to my list of favorite nighttime Clintisms, which I will present now.

1. “The Republicans and Democrats are skewing my queue!”

2. “Alright folks, we’ll begin our decent into O’Hare International in about 15 minutes so sit back and enjoy the bumpy ride.”

And finally, last nights particularly emotional revelation:

3. “The fractions got me here! The fractions took me there! Ohhhhhhh! The fractions!! The fractions got me here. No! Not the fractions again.”

The first two make a bit of sense when you consider that number 1 was spoken shortly after the 2000 elections and the second was within this last year of frequent travel. The meaning of the thrid is truly lost on me. Perhaps Clint himself will have some insights. If he has been working with fractions, this is the first I’ve heard of it. If you have any theories, or if you have knowledge of any medication that keeps one from talking in their sleep, let me know.

’till then,
Adidas

I did something different today. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and have spent hours reading up on it, but today I finally did it. I colored my own hair. Now, coloring my hair is not different at all for me. In fact, if you were to ask me what my natural hair color was I would honestly have no idea. I think it’s a light brownish, reddish, with lots other weird colors (like black) mixed in - but I can’t be sure. I’ve wanted to go darker for a while but no stylist wants to do this. I’m really not sure why, but they always convince me to do blonde highlights - unless I want red, then everyone’s willing to do that. Red, I think, is a stylist’s favorite color because it fades so quickly you have to go back every two to three weeks to have it re-done. But I digress. I decided on Clairol Herbal Essences #62 - Cocoa Infusion which is described as a medium brown. I bought two boxes because my hair is really think, and it’s fairly long now so I thought it would be smart to make sure I had enough. After reading the directions and deciding to skip the allergy test and the strand test I set to work. The process is quite simple, but I did run into a couple of snags. Pouring the contents of bottle #1 into bottle #2 was simple, but after you combine, you must Place gloved finger over applicator tip and shake until the mixture is totally blended. Sounds easy enough….. I shook those bottles (decided to mix both at the same time) for over 15 minutes and it still didn’t look “totally blended”. But since I’d shaken for a good amount of time I figured that it was probably as blended as it was going to get. In the end, this didn’t turn out to be any kind of problem. What was a bit of a problem was getting all of my hair saturated with this stuff. I sectioned off my hair and worked with one section at a time, but I think I should have made more sections. I used over half of the second bottle because I kept looking for missed spots. I found a lot of missed spots. In the end, confident that every inch of my hair was coated in a a nice brown goo, I loosely piled my hair on top of my head and waited. After 30 minutes, I hopped into the shower. There is one thing that no one tells you about this step - when the water hits your head, the color flies all over that shower. I spent 10 extra minutes in there just washing down the walls and shower curtain. It was a mess. After blow drying it and putting on some makeup, I am pretty happy with the results. The only problem is that either A. some of my hair refused to accept this new color. or B. Despite my checking and re-checking, I missed a couple of spots. None of these “spots” are that bad, of course it’s kind of hard to make that determination on my own. I’m guessing I can wait a week and then re-apply color to the missed spots if it still seems necessary. The color of my hair is considerably darker than the picture on the front of the box. I would describe this as more a very dark brown…. chocolate might be closer. It’s different, I don’t think my hair has ever been this color before. My hair is pretty soft and smells nice - it even smelled good while the color was on there. Coloring my own hair was an interesting experience. The last time my hair was made a different color in my home was back in 1992 just before christmas. A friend helped me with it and while it was supposed to turn out a sandy blonde color, I remember it being more of a gross brass color. I wasn’t fond of it - about 4 months later this same friend set me up on a blind date with my now ex-husband. We’re no longer friends.

BTW: I’m still reading Atlas Shrugged, it’s got me interested, I just haven’t had much time to read. Hopefully, I’ll have more time this week.

’till then,
Cheers!

I always feel kind of lazy whenever I fill out one of those “Getting to know you” questionaires because they always ask the dreaded question; “What are your hobbies?”. Sometimes I consider lying just to make myself more interesting, but I end up jotting down the same boring answers.
I enjoy reading, watching movies, and spending time with friends.
I guess I could add sewing to the list, but I don’t know if that’s really a hobby. I would prefer my answer to look like this:
I enjoy snow skiing, rock climbing, ice sculpture, fight club, and am a member of the Vidocq Society.
But no…. instead, I read and watch movies and then talk about my most recent mental adventures with other people who are also not members of the Vidocq Society.
At any rate, reading is my main hobby and I guess it’s a pretty decent one to have. Recently, I’ve read some books I normally wouldn’t have bothered with. For ages, I only read classics and newer books by certain authors. So in between Stienbeck and Dickens, I would indulge myself with a nice, hollow Michael Crichton or Tony Hillerman book. I know neither Crichton nor Hillerman are exceptional authors. Both of them write one book over and over again. I’ll sum up for you in case you’ve never read one of their books.
Every Michael Crichton fiction novel: Science minded people invent something new and remarkable. The something new and remarkable does something unexpected resulting in a crisis. Science minded people spend the rest of the book trying to control said crisis and the world is saved at the very last second.
Every Tony Hillerman fiction novel: Navajo Tribal police officers investigate a crime that to them and all the locals, at first, appears to be related to supernatural activity. Upon further investigation (usually by Jim Chee or Joe Leaphorn), a logical explanation is uncovered, arrests are made, and everyone is just as miserable as they were in the beginning.
Despite the seemingly repetitive nature of both these authors, I truly enjoy almost everything they write. Recently, I realized that surely others are writing good, even spectacular, fiction as we speak. It started when a friend loaned me a copy of The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. I read it and loved it. It was really quite good - one of the better books I’d read in the last 5 years. So I started looking at the bestsellers list, and the “Popular Fiction” displays at my local bookstore. My quest for good, recent fiction has been mostly successful. Life of Pi by Yann Martel was fantastic, as was A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines. I was a bit dissapointed in The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (good story, but not the greatest writer) and Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (again, great story but would have been much better in the hands of a more competent author). The real gem in all of this has been Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. This book was simply fantastic and I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a book as much as this one. If you haven’t read it, I can’t recommend it enough. Unless you don’t read too good, then you should pick up the audiobook…. or maybe just skip it altogether. I also picked up his The Virgin Suicides which was also very well written, though not as enjoyable as Middlesex. So after the Eugenides books, I know the next book will most likely suck. That is why I have chosen Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged as my next undertaking. And undertaking is likely to be an understatement. This book is 1069 pages long and with a much smaller font size than what you normally see in a mass market paperback. I’m guessing I’ll have to put in at least 2 weeks of reading to get through this one. I know this book is considered important and I’ve known many people who think it’s one of the greatest books ever written. Unfortunately, I’ve disliked a great many of these people who deem it required reading. I admit, the back cover isn’t overly inspiring.
The astounding story of a man who said that he would stop the motor of the world - and did.
It goes on to tell me that this book is tremendous in scope, breathtaking in its suspense. The breathtaking part sounds pretty good, but tremendous in scope? I’m not liking the sound of that… maybe 3 weeks is more realistic. I am going to try to enjoy it. This book is promising to answer the immortal query “who is John Galt?”. Personally, until I read the back cover, I didn’t know that was a question that was supposed to haunt me. Maybe after I read the book it will. Time will tell, it might be really fantastic. I’m 21 pages into it and I haven’t tried to hang myself with a leather belt yet. If you’ve read this book, let me know what you thought. I might give up on it and move on to something less tremendous. At any rate, I’ll be back in 2 to 3 weeks to give my final word on it. Not that my final word is definitive, but I figure if you’ve read this whole post you deserve to know how it went.

‘Til then,
Cheers!