Corny

Had a lovely weekend. Mr. Ameliabee had the entire weekend off--the first two whole days we've spent together (without my being sick) in probably 5 months. Such are the wages of retail.

Saturday was beautiful--big fluffy clouds, not too overly warm. Just perfectly pleasant. Went downtown to the North Market. It was crowded but not unduly so, and sadly I forgot my camera so no shots of the day. We had some yummy food, gawked at some stunning jewelry and did some great people-watching.

Then we headed to the Short North to tour all the changes. When we moved to Wisconsin 9 years ago, the Short North ended at the bridge over the highway. On three sides of this gallery-filled area were places I wouldn't go at night, and a few that weren't so hot during the daytime.

But, in the intervening years, much has been done to revitalize this area.

We found a wonderful stationery shop called On Paper. They had a great selection of traditional stationery, pens, embossers and things of that sort as well as contemporary office supplies and paper too. Just look at the beautiful notecard set!

I miss the writing and receiving of letters, although I'm terribly lazy about keeping in touch, I always mean to. I think these would help me keep in touch, don't you?

And if that isn't your style, how about a wooden postcard? These are possibly the coolest thing I've seen in a long while. Someone in my life will be getting one of these very soon.

There are bunches of neat antique shops, and trendy home furnishing shops, and interesting little shops of every description. If you 'Sconsin types come to visit, I promise to take you there!

We ended the afternoon in Goodale Park, a great spot right in the middle of the city. This was one of those days which make you remember exactly why you fell in love with someone in the first place. It was like being on a date again--just spending time, goofing around with nothing in particular to do. Heaven.

It is funny that after nearly 14 years of marriage, I sometimes still feel like we just got married, and can't wait to find out what life will bring us. Dang I love that boy.

Coughy McCougherson is guilty

That was/is me. Got a wicked (and not wikkid awesome, mind you) case of viral bronchitis.
Not fun. I was completely out of commission for 3 days, made it to work for one, then out again for 2.

Tomorrow, I try again.
For now, the scary Death Rattle noise seems to be gone, which was quite disturbing. I've felt like my lungs are slowly filling up and I am drowning. Much like it must feel suffering from emphysema. But all the time.
My grandmother had emphysema, and I'm pretty sure my mother does too...it is a shitty way to go. So listen up people--if you smoke, stop before you get it. Trust me, it is not pretty.

But, I am doing better overall today; able to go for at least an hour without a racking cough that causes me to see stars. Hooray! I've also slacked off on the sinus headache medicine with no horrible effects. The corner has been turned, I hope. Mr. Ameliabee had this for 2 weeks before I did, and we are due for a good airing-out and general disinfecting.
But, the one thing I can't air out and disinfect is my conscience, and I realize once again the value of the confessional to my faith. Last week I did something I feel horrible about. I gossiped very meanly about someone, completely for my own benefit. It wasn't privileged information, not something I should have held in confidence...but something I should have thought at LEAST twice about sharing. There was nothing vital in the information, nothing that would serve a real purpose--just raise my "status" in the eyes of the receiver. I feel crappy about it.

Having been on the losing end of the gossip pass more times than I can possibly remember, I know how it feels to know your private shame has been made public fodder, for no other purpose than your social ridicule.

So why did I do it? Why have I ever done it? Because I am addicted to Belonging. I want so badly and in so many ways for people to Like Me Like Me Like ME that I'll do all kinds of crazy things which are against my better judgment. Like gossiping, as a handy example.
I long to apologize to the aggrieved party, but won't. So far as I am aware, they do not know I have been so cruel, and it would only make them feel worse to know that I (and now the person I told, who has doubtless been spreading the word) have been talking about them. So this shame is mine to bear. And I'm sorry to have it.

Goodbye, beautiful shoes. Fly, fly far and free...

(For those of you who didn't attend the Bucyrus Little Theatre summer children's shows in the 80's--and why the heck didn't you?--the title is sort of borrowed from The Featherduster. Which starred my sister as Thumbelina, my other sister as a Rose, my third sister as a cockchafter--I know, I know--and me as......a Giant Toad. I get all the good parts.)

Aren't these cute shoes? *Sigh*

I love them. But...they now on their way to Volunteers of America.

I bought these for the Big Birthday Party, and they were great with my outfit.

By the end of the night, I couldn't walk. At all. I spent the whoooole next day limping for resting place to resting place. Figuring I was just Getting Older and had Overdone It, I wore the shoes a few more times. Once to work, once to the great geeky game night (which I will write much more about later) and once on an outing with friends.

In so doing, I managed to really mess up my feet. Boo. Now I have to roll cans of frozen orange juice under my arches, and wear special insoles. And I'm back to these, my trusty Dansko clogs.

To think I used to wear 3 1/2 inch spike pumps in my cocktail waitressing days...*sigh*

Two Score

And I'm not talking about football here.

Yes, it is official. I'm 40. And as Ms. Rose breathlessly noted--Wow! That's really really old!
Indeed it is my little friend.

I was lucky enough to welcome in my middle age with two fab events.
The first was a reunion show for Pet UFO and My White Bread Mom.

Rawk.
I haven't been to a rock and roll show in AGES, and I don't even want to think about how long I've been away from Bernies...

Pet UFO was great. They played like they'd never been apart. It was great seeing them, and despite their insistence that This Was The Last Time, I hope to see them again!

My White Bread Mom was great as always, dramatic and unpredictable, also as always. I was, unlike always, sober and tired. But we had a good time. While Sooz and I were walking down 15th toward High Street, a very blond girl rolled down the window of the Escalade she was riding in, leaned waaaay out and yelled at us: "Why you walkin like you got a stick up your ass?"
Because we're old, and clearly not as drunk as you sweetie. Yeesh.

The second event was my Big Ass Birthday Party for my Big Ass.


We had a 1986 Homecoming Dance, and it was fabulous...much better than my actual homecoming in 1986. For one, I was crowned Homecoming Queen. I got to see my wonderful cousins, whom I miss terribly and reminisce with friends old and new. I danced until I could barely walk (and in fact spent most of Sunday nursing some Charley Horses), smiled until I thought my face would freeze, and had a wonderful time.


I'd like to give a shout out to Mr. Ameliabee who A) has now officially put up with me for 13 years, B) let me spend way too much money on this party and C) helped me set it up, take it down and generally was a great sport about the whole thing.

If you want to see more photos, click on either of the above, or hit the nifty flickr button over on the left side of the page.
I'm watching the mailbox for my Golden Buckeye Card--only 20 more years to go. Gimme my 10% discount! Woohoo!

Love and like and suchlike

I have many things to blog about, so I'll start with a few things which are currently making me happy.

Vonage

I have issues with telephones. I don't much like to talk on them, and they are ridiculously expensive to have. We once had cell phones, but I didn't much like being accessible all the time, and really, what in my life is that urgent that it can't wait until I get home from the store? Plus, when we had cellular phones, we lived in the Bowl That No Electronic Waves Could Penetrate. Couldn't get TV, couldn't get radio, and I could only get reception on my cell phone if I stood on the corner. Which didn't do much to enhance my reputation, let me tell you.

When we repatriated to Columbus, we got a land line--and got even worse reception on it than on the cell phones. The phone company said, it's your phone (it wasn't) it's the old house wiring (also negative) it is in the lines, and we can't really fix it.

Then...we moved to a brand spanking new house. Brand new wiring in the house! Brand new phone lines! Same old problem. So...I decided enough with that, and ordered us up some Vonage.

I. Love. It. Granted, I only just hooked it up yesterday, and have used it maybe for 15 minutes total, but the sound is so clear--no static or random beeping--and the price, oh my the price. Roughly a third of our land line cost. Hooray indeed!


This book

I first heard of this book from Amy over at Angry Chicken, who is the inspiration for and source of any domestic aspirations I have.

The book? Artisan Bread in Five Minutes A Day. Seriously, 5 minutes. No kneading. No punching down. No proofing the yeast. No trying to figure out when the dough has doubled in size. No. No. No. Mix a big bunch of dough, stick it in the fridge, and yank off bits to bake over the course of two weeks.


And it is yummy, yummy bread. You can check out the author's website here, and of course buy the book at your favorite local bookseller. This method is truly, the best thing since sliced bread.

Fuel and Flee

This evening on the highway, Mr. Ameliabee and I were passed by a pickup truck weaving in and out of traffic going a zillion miles an hour.

Also, it was dragging something behind it.

Our first response (as it so often is) was to quote MST3K's Mitchell--"Hey Mister, your thing is dragging!" Then, to let him get far, far away from us. He didn't get too far, as he suddenly pulled over to the berm. As we passed, I could see exactly what was dragging behind his car.

A hose. Attached to a Gas Pump Nozzle. Which was in his gas tank.
Holy Crap.

For the rest of the trip we wondered: How on earth does that happen? Wouldn't you feel the tug as you pulled away from the pump? And how in the process of purchasing gas could you just forget to take out the nozzle? If anyone has done this, I'd love to hear your story.

Mr. Ameliabee is convinced that the person was attempting to make a quick getaway after stealing gas. A little too quick...

Receive the Receiver

An incredibly cool guy I work with has an incredibly cool band, and incredibly, two of their songs are going to be featured on a major TV show in a few weeks.

The band is The Receiver. Here is their myspace page, on which they have snips of songs available, or you can listen to the entire album free here in the Media section.
Their music is atmospheric and beautiful, and yet a little bit rock-like at times. Laundress, I think you in particular would like them. My favorites are "One In" which is so beautiful that it gets me a bit choked up sometimes, and "Decades." You really really should check them out.

The fellow I work with is Casey, who plays the keyboards and bass and all kinds of other things--the other band member is his brother Jesse, who shares my deep appreciation for crash cymbals as instruments, not just tacky punctuation. There is a muiscality about them that I've always loved, almost like a harsh chime.
I say, why drag those big cymbals up on stage if you are only going to use them when David Lee Roth does a herkie off your drum kit? Yeah, I'm talkin' to you Alex Van Halen.

But I digress. Two songs from the Decades album (which two I seem to have forgotten) will be featured in the March 30th broadcast of "Dirt" on F/X. (which is like Fox minus the O? Maybe?)

I'm hoping someone in my immediate circle of friend can tape this for me, as I don't have cable...but all you others in TV land, check it out for yourselves!

Brown?

I saw this emblazoned on a truck rear window today.

If Its Brown It Goes Down.

Um. Okay?