A quick followup from Sunday's SMS exchange:
Gem to Jube (06/09/09, 4:52pm, just getting out of work and heading to her bus in the sweltering heat): omg fing hot!
Jube to Gem (06/09/09, 4:54pm): what is hot?
Gem to Jube (06/09/09, 4:56pm): the weather. what, u thought i saw federer?
Probably wisely, Jube only addressed the weather in his return text.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Texty Tennis Sunday
Jube is in Norfolk this weekend for a short visit, while I stayed back in Maryland. He wasn't able to watch Roland Garros, but I was!
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 10:29am): Federer winning 2 to 0. 6 to 1, 7 to 6. great tiebreak. a streaker* on the court scared fed. . . flashback to seles?
Jube to Gem (06/07/2009, 10:44am): Awesome.
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 10:45am): 3rd set now 3 jeux a 1 fed mene**
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 11:10am): Fed wins! crying on court. crowd screaming, kids dancing. 3rd set 6.4
Jube to Gem (06/07/2009, 11:11am): Champagne
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 11:41am): What a nice guy! he said he wasnt /happy/ that nadal lost #thats mean# but he was def relieved. agassi gave the coupe.
I love the French Open! I love Roger Federer! I love tennis! What a great morning!
*Update on the "streaker"
**3 games to 1: Federer leads
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 10:29am): Federer winning 2 to 0. 6 to 1, 7 to 6. great tiebreak. a streaker* on the court scared fed. . . flashback to seles?
Jube to Gem (06/07/2009, 10:44am): Awesome.
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 10:45am): 3rd set now 3 jeux a 1 fed mene**
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 11:10am): Fed wins! crying on court. crowd screaming, kids dancing. 3rd set 6.4
Jube to Gem (06/07/2009, 11:11am): Champagne
Gem to Jube (06/07/2009, 11:41am): What a nice guy! he said he wasnt /happy/ that nadal lost #thats mean# but he was def relieved. agassi gave the coupe.
I love the French Open! I love Roger Federer! I love tennis! What a great morning!
*Update on the "streaker"
**3 games to 1: Federer leads
Monday, May 25, 2009
Weather
The weather has been warm, almost summery lately. We haven't wanted to turn on the air conditioning, so we've done one of my favorite things: slept with the windows open. It feels great until the neighbors next to you start pulling fence posts out of the ground at 8:00 in the morning and the guy across the street decides that mowing the lawn is best done at 8:45. And to think that I was looking forward to sleeping in on Memorial Day...
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Morning Surprise
Yesterday, my morning seemed to be a normal morning. I got up, dressed, and out the door on time; I was listening to one of my normal walking songs as I headed to the bus stop. Since Daylight Saving Time started, my mornings have been much nicer, since I don't have to scramble in the dark. However, as I neared the main road, I saw a very strange sight... a red car was in someone's front yard!
Now, at first I thought it might have been deliberate. This house has, in the past few days, lost its shutters, its lawn furniture, and a lot of its vegetation. So someone parking their car there didn't seem so strange. Then I realized that the car had knocked down a couple of panels of chain link and sported a crushed side and front. I saw the driver sitting on the front steps of the house, looking forlornly at the cell phone in his hand. I almost walked by, but then I reminded myself that we have to help when we find ourselves in these situations.
"Sir? Are you all right?" I called. "Do you need me to call anyone?"
He looked up at me, surprised. "No, no, I just called someone. But thank you so much for asking." I thought he was probably still in shock.
Then I did something bad: I waited for him to turn his back and sneaked my camera out of my purse to snap a photo. Unfortunately I was so nervous that he would catch me that this is all I managed to catch:
It's tough to see, but there's the car, just behind and to the left of the tree in the foreground. You can also see the missing spots for shutters on the house...
Now, at first I thought it might have been deliberate. This house has, in the past few days, lost its shutters, its lawn furniture, and a lot of its vegetation. So someone parking their car there didn't seem so strange. Then I realized that the car had knocked down a couple of panels of chain link and sported a crushed side and front. I saw the driver sitting on the front steps of the house, looking forlornly at the cell phone in his hand. I almost walked by, but then I reminded myself that we have to help when we find ourselves in these situations.
"Sir? Are you all right?" I called. "Do you need me to call anyone?"
He looked up at me, surprised. "No, no, I just called someone. But thank you so much for asking." I thought he was probably still in shock.
Then I did something bad: I waited for him to turn his back and sneaked my camera out of my purse to snap a photo. Unfortunately I was so nervous that he would catch me that this is all I managed to catch:
It's tough to see, but there's the car, just behind and to the left of the tree in the foreground. You can also see the missing spots for shutters on the house...
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Red-Handed
As we were watching TV, a commercial for the new Star Trek came on. Glancing at Jube from the corners of my eyes, I said, "I think we should go see Star Trek."
Without looking at me, he said, "Okay, sure. When?"
"Oh, I dunno. Maybe this weekend?"
Surprised that I was following through, he turned to face me. "You really want to see it?" Poor Jube. He hates Star Trek and tries to convince himself that I don't like it as much as I do. Not only that: he thinks that the movie looks terrible, and has told me so every time we catch a trailer. Come to think of it, maybe he was trying out some preemptive strikes to keep me from broaching the topic...
"Well, yeah!" I said, "I like Star Trek!"
"I bet I know why you suddenly want to see it: You read a review on salon.com and now you want to see it."
"No, no! I just want to see it! I like science fiction!"
Grumbling, he said, "All right, maybe we'll go." He grabbed the laptop and opened it up to surf the net while I watched TV. Too late, I realized what was on the screen: a review of Star Trek.
"I knew it! I know you too well!"
"No, no, it's not what you think. It's not salon.com!"
Without looking at me, he said, "Okay, sure. When?"
"Oh, I dunno. Maybe this weekend?"
Surprised that I was following through, he turned to face me. "You really want to see it?" Poor Jube. He hates Star Trek and tries to convince himself that I don't like it as much as I do. Not only that: he thinks that the movie looks terrible, and has told me so every time we catch a trailer. Come to think of it, maybe he was trying out some preemptive strikes to keep me from broaching the topic...
"Well, yeah!" I said, "I like Star Trek!"
"I bet I know why you suddenly want to see it: You read a review on salon.com and now you want to see it."
"No, no! I just want to see it! I like science fiction!"
Grumbling, he said, "All right, maybe we'll go." He grabbed the laptop and opened it up to surf the net while I watched TV. Too late, I realized what was on the screen: a review of Star Trek.
"I knew it! I know you too well!"
"No, no, it's not what you think. It's not salon.com!"
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Lottery
Yesterday was a beautiful day, with warm weather and cloudy skies. Jube and I took a walk through the park near our house. On our way home, Jube turned to me with a fait divers from that morning's newscast.
"You know someone around here won $150 million in the lottery! They're just waiting for him - or her, I guess - to come pick it up. On the news they interviewed some guy who said he was so happy for whoever won, like painting a picture of him - 'He's probably in debt, and this money will help him get out of this poor area' or whatever."
"That's interesting. You know, I've heard that winning the lottery can really mess up your life, like you lose all of your close relationships because of money."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that too. It can definitely mess up your life for some people. But that wouldn't happen to me."
"You know someone around here won $150 million in the lottery! They're just waiting for him - or her, I guess - to come pick it up. On the news they interviewed some guy who said he was so happy for whoever won, like painting a picture of him - 'He's probably in debt, and this money will help him get out of this poor area' or whatever."
"That's interesting. You know, I've heard that winning the lottery can really mess up your life, like you lose all of your close relationships because of money."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that too. It can definitely mess up your life for some people. But that wouldn't happen to me."
Friday, April 10, 2009
Economic Hardship
Everyone I know is talking about the economy. It's hard to find jobs, hard to keep jobs, money's not worth what it used to be, we can't buy what we want, more people are laid off, we're finding ways to save, etc. Luckily for Jube and me, we're doing okay. My job is pretty secure and we're not worried.
But all the advice about saving and not spending must have gotten to me, because when it came time for a trim of my bangs, I didn't want to shell out the $12 for a professional. Instead, I cut them myself. This was a few months ago, and I ended up with Amelie-style shortshortshort bangs. I also have a small forehead, so to have those Amelie-style bangs, I had to practically shear my bangs. They were only about an inch and a half long. Oops.
So for the next few months, I didn't have to cut my bangs at all! In fact, when I did go the salon for a trim I couldn't do myself (the back is still out of my range), the hairdresser scolded me. "These are much to short! Who cut them?" When I admitted that I had, she said, "Never do that again. Never!"
Just this past week, I realized that my bangs were curling at the ends and getting into my eyes. The rest of my hair looks good, though - just a trim of the bangs was needed. I still couldn't justify the price, but I remembered my promise never to do it myself again. So I called on my trusty sidekick, Jube. I prepped him: "Can you cut my hair for me?"
He let out a shocked laugh. "What? Cut your hair? What put that into your head?"
"Well, I don't want to pay for it."
"But I've never done it before!"
"That's okay. It can't be worse than what I did myself."
After a few more minutes of resistance, he reluctantly agreed to do it.
The next evening, after my shower, I pulled out the scissors. "Let's get it over with!" I cried. It was almost an adventure! I told him to cut it at about the level of my eyes, straight across. After making the first few cuts on the left, he followed the length along to the right.
"Done," he told me, looking pleased - until he stepped back and looked at the final product. "Oh no! How did that side end up so much longer than the other?" He cut some more, finally finishing a reasonably straight line.
"I don't know how they do it," he told me. "Cutting hair is hard!" But at least we did our part for our savings account.
But all the advice about saving and not spending must have gotten to me, because when it came time for a trim of my bangs, I didn't want to shell out the $12 for a professional. Instead, I cut them myself. This was a few months ago, and I ended up with Amelie-style shortshortshort bangs. I also have a small forehead, so to have those Amelie-style bangs, I had to practically shear my bangs. They were only about an inch and a half long. Oops.
So for the next few months, I didn't have to cut my bangs at all! In fact, when I did go the salon for a trim I couldn't do myself (the back is still out of my range), the hairdresser scolded me. "These are much to short! Who cut them?" When I admitted that I had, she said, "Never do that again. Never!"
Just this past week, I realized that my bangs were curling at the ends and getting into my eyes. The rest of my hair looks good, though - just a trim of the bangs was needed. I still couldn't justify the price, but I remembered my promise never to do it myself again. So I called on my trusty sidekick, Jube. I prepped him: "Can you cut my hair for me?"
He let out a shocked laugh. "What? Cut your hair? What put that into your head?"
"Well, I don't want to pay for it."
"But I've never done it before!"
"That's okay. It can't be worse than what I did myself."
After a few more minutes of resistance, he reluctantly agreed to do it.
The next evening, after my shower, I pulled out the scissors. "Let's get it over with!" I cried. It was almost an adventure! I told him to cut it at about the level of my eyes, straight across. After making the first few cuts on the left, he followed the length along to the right.
"Done," he told me, looking pleased - until he stepped back and looked at the final product. "Oh no! How did that side end up so much longer than the other?" He cut some more, finally finishing a reasonably straight line.
"I don't know how they do it," he told me. "Cutting hair is hard!" But at least we did our part for our savings account.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
It's Just Not Right
Hello again! I feel really bad that I haven't updated this space in a long time. I have no excuse for myself. All I've been doing is working, reading, and watching my digital TV. I suppose that this could seem like life has been boring, but really I've been very contented! Jube has said some really hilarious things, but he has refused to let me publish them here on my blog, so you'll just have to imagine what outrageous comments have come out of his mouth. Or I suppose you could e-mail me and ask - I'd definitely answer. I promise I would!
Now, this is only the second time that I'm posting one, but I've decided to put up a quick meme. If you like it, then copy me! If you think this is totally lame, dude, then you don't have to read it. (It is kind of lame since no one tagged me and it's also been on the internet for like 10 years, but still. Enjoy with me if you can.)
So here's the deal: there are those "25 things" and also the "random 10," and I'm letting my iPod (on shuffle) answer the questions for me. And then I add my little commentary about it. So enjoy - or "surf away" (as Jube says. I think this is kind of funny and cute, except that now I say it when I'm on the internet too. I.e. "I'd better surf away from this porn before my boss comes in the room." Hypothetically.). (Oh, and also? Try not to judge my taste in music. I gave up a long time ago.)
1. What do your friends say about you?
Dancer in a Daydream. This is kind of nice, isn't it? The problem is, I doubt they say that about me. If they do, then I'm really living in some kind of alternate reality...
2. How would your coworkers describe you?
Daffodil Lament. Hmm... I hope this doesn't mean I'll be fired in the spring...
3. How would you describe yourself?
Apocalypticodramatic. Actually this is sort of authentic. I mean, how can you describe the indescribable without making up new words?
4. What do you like in a romantic partner?
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out. Yeah, I like it when my romantic partners tell me what they want. I also like that this seems to say, "Sure you can tell me what you want, but you're not going to get it. Go ahead and say it. I don't care." I also love that I associate this song with Harold and Maude, and I hope you do too, because it says so much about any romantic relationship I might have...
5. How do you feel today?
Sin Tu Carino [Without Your Love]. Yes, exactly! That's why I decided to post this meme without being tagged! I need your love, Internet! Love me, please love me!
6. What is your life’s purpose?
Living in Danger. Heh. I was always embarrassed by that Ace of Base album on my iPod, but now I see why I kept it...
7. What is your motto?
Light In Your Eyes. Yeah, it's a great motto - never wear sunglasses! Or actually, maybe it's the technique for someone to torture a motto out of someone else... really bright lights in their eyes...
8. What do you think about the most?
Videotape. But do you know which one?
9. What are you going to do on your next vacation?
Think for Yourself. Yeah, cause I'm not gonna tell you!
10. What do you think of your first love/date?
The National Anthem. But of what country?
11. What is your life story?
Knights of Cydonia. Okay, now this one is really dumb. Why would that be my life's story? Think, Gem, think... lyrics: No one's gonna take me alive... Nah. Still makes no sense.
12. What did you do yesterday?
Que Paso Que Paso [What happened what happened]. Yeah, dude, I can't remember...
13. What do you think of when you see the person you like/love?
The Eternal Vow. You might think that this refers to our marriage vows, but I think it must be the pact we made the night of the new moon on Friday the 13th...
14. What describes your wedding?
Zombie. Eek. I thought it was rather tasteful and chic! Although maybe that's some new kind of fashion - zombie-chic...
15. What will they play at your funeral?
The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2. Actually, I just had a memory of watching The Last Unicorn for the first time with a friend (when I was young... very young...). As you probably recall, the film opens with America's fabled song, "The Last Unicorn," accompanied by what is basically an animated music video illustrating the lyrics. (Oh gosh, do you not remember? You can look here if you really want to see it instead of relying on the inferior vision in your mind.) In the tradition of Hollywood's Golden Age, the credits are also displayed at this time. Since my friend and I were wee tots, we were not familiar with this convention. She turned to me and asked, "Is this the end?" I thought about it for a little while, but I finally figured out an answer: "Maybe it's just the beginning of the end." My father and his friend burst out laughing (we were watching in a rec room/basement - my memories just keep getting more and more detailed!). I think that playing "The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2" at my funeral would simply close the circle: It would be the end of the end. Voila!
16. What is your obsession?
Unintended. Yeah, I just couldn't help myself...
17. What is your biggest fear?
Exit Music (For a Film). After finding out that "The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2" will be played at my funeral, this has definitely become my biggest fear.
18. What is your biggest secret?
Map of the Problematique. It's such a big secret that I can't even figure out what it means!
19. What is your biggest turn-on?
2+2=5 (The Lukewarm). Yeah, I love reading Nineteen Eighty-Four in a tepid bath... mmmmm!
20. How do you describe your friends?
Minha Galera [according to some website, "minha galera" means "my people"]. Yep, it's definitely how I describe my friends. Or at least, that's how I'd describe them if I spoke Portuguese.
21. What would you do with a million dollars?
Dernier Lit [Last Bed]. I guess that this means I'd buy one of those awesome memory foam mattresses and I'd never have to buy another bed again in my whole life! Or else it means I'd spring for a crazy cool coffin!
22. What is your opinion of sex?
Plug In Baby. No comment.
23. What is your biggest regret?
Serre-Moi [Hold Me]. Yes, my biggest regret is that I was never held as a child. Oh please hold me now!
24. What would you rather be doing right now?
Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In). I guess I'd rather be on drugs?
25. What will you post this list as?
Morning Bell. Actually I'm posting it as "It's Just Not Right".
Well, I do hope you enjoyed. And don't forget to e-mail me if you want to hear a funny story about Jube! (Wow, I think that's even lamer than this stupid meme...)
Now, this is only the second time that I'm posting one, but I've decided to put up a quick meme. If you like it, then copy me! If you think this is totally lame, dude, then you don't have to read it. (It is kind of lame since no one tagged me and it's also been on the internet for like 10 years, but still. Enjoy with me if you can.)
So here's the deal: there are those "25 things" and also the "random 10," and I'm letting my iPod (on shuffle) answer the questions for me. And then I add my little commentary about it. So enjoy - or "surf away" (as Jube says. I think this is kind of funny and cute, except that now I say it when I'm on the internet too. I.e. "I'd better surf away from this porn before my boss comes in the room." Hypothetically.). (Oh, and also? Try not to judge my taste in music. I gave up a long time ago.)
1. What do your friends say about you?
Dancer in a Daydream. This is kind of nice, isn't it? The problem is, I doubt they say that about me. If they do, then I'm really living in some kind of alternate reality...
2. How would your coworkers describe you?
Daffodil Lament. Hmm... I hope this doesn't mean I'll be fired in the spring...
3. How would you describe yourself?
Apocalypticodramatic. Actually this is sort of authentic. I mean, how can you describe the indescribable without making up new words?
4. What do you like in a romantic partner?
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out. Yeah, I like it when my romantic partners tell me what they want. I also like that this seems to say, "Sure you can tell me what you want, but you're not going to get it. Go ahead and say it. I don't care." I also love that I associate this song with Harold and Maude, and I hope you do too, because it says so much about any romantic relationship I might have...
5. How do you feel today?
Sin Tu Carino [Without Your Love]. Yes, exactly! That's why I decided to post this meme without being tagged! I need your love, Internet! Love me, please love me!
6. What is your life’s purpose?
Living in Danger. Heh. I was always embarrassed by that Ace of Base album on my iPod, but now I see why I kept it...
7. What is your motto?
Light In Your Eyes. Yeah, it's a great motto - never wear sunglasses! Or actually, maybe it's the technique for someone to torture a motto out of someone else... really bright lights in their eyes...
8. What do you think about the most?
Videotape. But do you know which one?
9. What are you going to do on your next vacation?
Think for Yourself. Yeah, cause I'm not gonna tell you!
10. What do you think of your first love/date?
The National Anthem. But of what country?
11. What is your life story?
Knights of Cydonia. Okay, now this one is really dumb. Why would that be my life's story? Think, Gem, think... lyrics: No one's gonna take me alive... Nah. Still makes no sense.
12. What did you do yesterday?
Que Paso Que Paso [What happened what happened]. Yeah, dude, I can't remember...
13. What do you think of when you see the person you like/love?
The Eternal Vow. You might think that this refers to our marriage vows, but I think it must be the pact we made the night of the new moon on Friday the 13th...
14. What describes your wedding?
Zombie. Eek. I thought it was rather tasteful and chic! Although maybe that's some new kind of fashion - zombie-chic...
15. What will they play at your funeral?
The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2. Actually, I just had a memory of watching The Last Unicorn for the first time with a friend (when I was young... very young...). As you probably recall, the film opens with America's fabled song, "The Last Unicorn," accompanied by what is basically an animated music video illustrating the lyrics. (Oh gosh, do you not remember? You can look here if you really want to see it instead of relying on the inferior vision in your mind.) In the tradition of Hollywood's Golden Age, the credits are also displayed at this time. Since my friend and I were wee tots, we were not familiar with this convention. She turned to me and asked, "Is this the end?" I thought about it for a little while, but I finally figured out an answer: "Maybe it's just the beginning of the end." My father and his friend burst out laughing (we were watching in a rec room/basement - my memories just keep getting more and more detailed!). I think that playing "The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2" at my funeral would simply close the circle: It would be the end of the end. Voila!
16. What is your obsession?
Unintended. Yeah, I just couldn't help myself...
17. What is your biggest fear?
Exit Music (For a Film). After finding out that "The Last Unicorn, Pt. 2" will be played at my funeral, this has definitely become my biggest fear.
18. What is your biggest secret?
Map of the Problematique. It's such a big secret that I can't even figure out what it means!
19. What is your biggest turn-on?
2+2=5 (The Lukewarm). Yeah, I love reading Nineteen Eighty-Four in a tepid bath... mmmmm!
20. How do you describe your friends?
Minha Galera [according to some website, "minha galera" means "my people"]. Yep, it's definitely how I describe my friends. Or at least, that's how I'd describe them if I spoke Portuguese.
21. What would you do with a million dollars?
Dernier Lit [Last Bed]. I guess that this means I'd buy one of those awesome memory foam mattresses and I'd never have to buy another bed again in my whole life! Or else it means I'd spring for a crazy cool coffin!
22. What is your opinion of sex?
Plug In Baby. No comment.
23. What is your biggest regret?
Serre-Moi [Hold Me]. Yes, my biggest regret is that I was never held as a child. Oh please hold me now!
24. What would you rather be doing right now?
Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In). I guess I'd rather be on drugs?
25. What will you post this list as?
Morning Bell. Actually I'm posting it as "It's Just Not Right".
Well, I do hope you enjoyed. And don't forget to e-mail me if you want to hear a funny story about Jube! (Wow, I think that's even lamer than this stupid meme...)
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I'm a Convert!*
Yesterday Jube and I went out with this guy who works for the Federal Communications Commission (suddenly, I realize how living in DC affects the people we meet...). His big project right now revolves around the "DTV Transition," which will take place in about two weeks (don't know what I'm talking about? You must not have suffered through snowy reception for two years like Jube and I have).
I've been complaining for about a year about the DTV transition. I didn't want to spend the money to get a converter box for my TV; I didn't think it was fair that we should be penalized for not buying cable; I was happy enough with my fuzzy reception. But two weeks ago Jube and I bought our DTV converter, and I saw the light! It's wonderful! When my father came to visit, he thought we'd signed up for cable.
I even feel more informed about the world since we receive four PBS channels. I now understand what stock options, hedge funds, and the financial crisis are all about - and The Bachelor has never looked as good! (Actually, Jube and I think he looks sort of like a young George W. Bush.) So if you've got basic cable right now, I'm telling you: quit it and buy a converter box! You'll thank me later!
*Pun absolutely intended. Every time I say this to someone, I have to restrain myself from saying, "Get it? Get it???"
I've been complaining for about a year about the DTV transition. I didn't want to spend the money to get a converter box for my TV; I didn't think it was fair that we should be penalized for not buying cable; I was happy enough with my fuzzy reception. But two weeks ago Jube and I bought our DTV converter, and I saw the light! It's wonderful! When my father came to visit, he thought we'd signed up for cable.
I even feel more informed about the world since we receive four PBS channels. I now understand what stock options, hedge funds, and the financial crisis are all about - and The Bachelor has never looked as good! (Actually, Jube and I think he looks sort of like a young George W. Bush.) So if you've got basic cable right now, I'm telling you: quit it and buy a converter box! You'll thank me later!
*Pun absolutely intended. Every time I say this to someone, I have to restrain myself from saying, "Get it? Get it???"
Friday, January 09, 2009
Who?
9:18 p.m. Watching TV.
Gem: Tu la trouves jolie?
Jube: Who?
Gem: Her. There - with the pretty dark hair.
Jube: Her? No way!
Gem: Really? I think she's pretty.
Jube: She looks like Michael Jackson.
Gem: Tu la trouves jolie?
Jube: Who?
Gem: Her. There - with the pretty dark hair.
Jube: Her? No way!
Gem: Really? I think she's pretty.
Jube: She looks like Michael Jackson.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Advent Surprise!
I got home from work today to find a wonderful surprise awaiting me! I saw some packing supplies laid out on the bed, but couldn't remember having ordered anything from an online shopping site.
"Jube? Do you know what this is for? Is it ours?" I asked.
"Yes, it is for us," he answered. "Come see!"
When I went into the kitchen, I saw a box on the counter. When I checked out what was inside, I was very pleasantly surprised: foie gras, champagne, tea, cookies, calissons d'Aix, and (less happily) brandade de morue. The special surprise was the champagne, which was the same kind served at our wedding. I dislike brandade, which is a kind of white fish paste, but Jube loves it, so I suppose I can't grudge him his favorites - especially when his family sent me some green tea, which he doesn't drink.
Un grand merci a ma famille formidable!
Monday, November 24, 2008
It smells a bit strange...
This evening I had a cramp in my big toe.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I cried. "I hate it when I have toe cramps!"
"Let me see," said Jube. He pulled off my sock and massaged my foot for a bit. "What's this?" he asked, smoothing his thumb over the bone nearest to my toe. The skin was dry. "Are you developing an onion?"
"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I cried. "I hate it when I have toe cramps!"
"Let me see," said Jube. He pulled off my sock and massaged my foot for a bit. "What's this?" he asked, smoothing his thumb over the bone nearest to my toe. The skin was dry. "Are you developing an onion?"
Monday, November 17, 2008
Norfolk Redux
We recently went back to Norfolk to get our furniture out of storage. We are almost totally moved in now! While we were there, we spent some time as tourists - we ate lots of good food, went shopping, and walked around the downtown. And then, on my way out of town, I voted for our new President-elect! Here is a mini photo essay of the trip:
Friday, November 14, 2008
Chinatown
The other day Jube and I decided to be tourists. Of course we have seen most of the monuments and a good number of museums in DC, but we certainly haven't seen all of them. We wanted to go to the International Spy Museum, but it turns out that it costs something like $14 to go in. We nixed that idea and instead chose to wander around Chinatown, where the museum is located.
Now, DC's Chinatown is not exactly authentic. I've been to New York's Chinatown, and was impressed by the atmosphere. In DC, the "atmosphere" comes from a local ordinance which requires all of the shops to have their names written in Chinese as well as English. That means that Anne Taylor Loft, Starbucks, and Urban Outfitters (all very typical Chinese corporations, as I'm sure you'll agree) have an extra sign.
While there is a distinct lack of Chinese culture, DC's Chinatown is still fun to visit. There is streetside shopping, a movie theater, the National Portrait Gallery and the International Spy Museum.
And a really cool looking Chinese arch.
And on the day we went, a group of people learning how to ride Segways.
Next time we go, we're eating at one of the restaurants. Yee haw!
Oh, and yes... pardon the 2 month absence... oops!
Now, DC's Chinatown is not exactly authentic. I've been to New York's Chinatown, and was impressed by the atmosphere. In DC, the "atmosphere" comes from a local ordinance which requires all of the shops to have their names written in Chinese as well as English. That means that Anne Taylor Loft, Starbucks, and Urban Outfitters (all very typical Chinese corporations, as I'm sure you'll agree) have an extra sign.
While there is a distinct lack of Chinese culture, DC's Chinatown is still fun to visit. There is streetside shopping, a movie theater, the National Portrait Gallery and the International Spy Museum.
And a really cool looking Chinese arch.
And on the day we went, a group of people learning how to ride Segways.
Next time we go, we're eating at one of the restaurants. Yee haw!
Oh, and yes... pardon the 2 month absence... oops!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
WWJD?
The other day at the mall, I was trying on some clothes when I heard the girl in the next dressing room open the door and call to her friend, "What do you think?"
Her friend called back, "Is it too small?"
I reflexively looked at the wall separating my dressing room from the girl's. I could almost feel the heat emanating from her angry body. Quiz: What was the proper response in this situation? I probably would have gone for something like, "It's okay," expressing some ambiguity with the ensemble without implying that my friend was (gasp) not a dainty little fairy!
"No!" she hissed back. "It's my size! Why?"
At least her friend knew the correct answer to this one: "Oh, it just looks a bit tight on the bust." Good comeback!
Her friend called back, "Is it too small?"
I reflexively looked at the wall separating my dressing room from the girl's. I could almost feel the heat emanating from her angry body. Quiz: What was the proper response in this situation? I probably would have gone for something like, "It's okay," expressing some ambiguity with the ensemble without implying that my friend was (gasp) not a dainty little fairy!
"No!" she hissed back. "It's my size! Why?"
At least her friend knew the correct answer to this one: "Oh, it just looks a bit tight on the bust." Good comeback!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Metaphor
My Japanese coworker just bought a mini cassette recorder for her classes. Encased in one of those plastic boxes with no visible means of entry, it has forced her to pull out her scissors and poke viciously, then snag the blade and rip carefully.
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, "This is harder than opening a fish!"
I looked over at her, laughing. "A fish?"
She laughed too, adding, "Yes, and you know, opening fishes is really an art."
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, "This is harder than opening a fish!"
I looked over at her, laughing. "A fish?"
She laughed too, adding, "Yes, and you know, opening fishes is really an art."
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Dans la nature...
During my old commute, I would drive a short way down Beach Drive. Beach is a winding road that traverses Rock Creek Park, 10 miles or so of lush forest that goes from Washington, DC to a street very close to my house. In the early mornings I sometimes see deer lurking in the brush on the side of the road, and in the afternoons bicyclists seem to think that they have the right of way (they travel in packs). I also see the same Metro commuters walking from Grosvenor Station back to their houses.
On one of my last days, I was driving through the morning mist when I saw a Metro commuter cross the road in front of me. I thought it was a bit strange that I'd never seen him before, but I figured that he might have left earlier than usual. Before my car drew level with him, he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. Bemused, I tried to find him in the woods as I drove past, but all I saw was a small path leading through the underbrush.
I enjoyed imagining deer and commuters sharing the same paths every morning, and then I turned off of Beach and entered the Beltway, where no one shares the same path happily.
On one of my last days, I was driving through the morning mist when I saw a Metro commuter cross the road in front of me. I thought it was a bit strange that I'd never seen him before, but I figured that he might have left earlier than usual. Before my car drew level with him, he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. Bemused, I tried to find him in the woods as I drove past, but all I saw was a small path leading through the underbrush.
I enjoyed imagining deer and commuters sharing the same paths every morning, and then I turned off of Beach and entered the Beltway, where no one shares the same path happily.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Pas Prudent!
When Jube and I were still living in Montpellier, we used our bikes to travel everywhere. We used the bus lanes instead of the sidewalks, and once an old lady yelled at us as we were crossing her path, "Pas prudent! Pas prudent!"* We now say this whenever someone tells us that we should be more careful, or that something we did was stupid... for example, one of my new colleagues told me that she had never used the public bus in her entire life. "You just couldn't use the bus in Hampton Roads," she said, "it was too dangerous!" Jube and I used the HR Public Transit system often before we bought our car, and I'm sure we would have looked at each other and hissed, "Pas prudent!" at this announcement.
Anyway, we had a pas prudent moment in July, when I'd picked him up at the airport and was driving him back to Norfolk. We took Route 17 to 95 to 64, and it took about an hour on each of these roads. As we were entering 95 from 17, we noticed a blond surfer-looking dude at the side of the road with a sign that said "Virginia Beach." We chuckled for a moment that he would never find a ride down there, and then we both said, "Why don't we give him a ride?"
I've never hitchhiked or picked up a hitchhiker, but Jube has done both in France. So we pulled over and two blondies crammed themselves into the back of our little car. It turned out that they were Russians, in the US on summer J-1 (working holiday) visas, and had traveled all around the US by Greyhound. They were finally out of money and had resorted to hitchhiking.
They were very well mannered young men from Siberia, and my only problem with them was that they kept talking. I had been ready for a nap, but unfortunately I let slip that I knew quite a bit about immigration processes, and they kept asking me for information about their visas.
By the time we arrived in Norfolk, we didn't want to drive all the way to Virginia Beach, so we dropped them off downtown outside of the library. They gave us a nu-metal CD (I had unwisely told them that Jube liked heavy metal) and their gratitude.
Whenever I tell anyone about our hitchhiking adventure, they all say the same thing. "I can't believe you picked up hitchhikers! That's so dangerous!"
Jube and I catch each other's eye, and we both think the same thing. "Pas prudent!"
*Not careful!
Anyway, we had a pas prudent moment in July, when I'd picked him up at the airport and was driving him back to Norfolk. We took Route 17 to 95 to 64, and it took about an hour on each of these roads. As we were entering 95 from 17, we noticed a blond surfer-looking dude at the side of the road with a sign that said "Virginia Beach." We chuckled for a moment that he would never find a ride down there, and then we both said, "Why don't we give him a ride?"
I've never hitchhiked or picked up a hitchhiker, but Jube has done both in France. So we pulled over and two blondies crammed themselves into the back of our little car. It turned out that they were Russians, in the US on summer J-1 (working holiday) visas, and had traveled all around the US by Greyhound. They were finally out of money and had resorted to hitchhiking.
They were very well mannered young men from Siberia, and my only problem with them was that they kept talking. I had been ready for a nap, but unfortunately I let slip that I knew quite a bit about immigration processes, and they kept asking me for information about their visas.
By the time we arrived in Norfolk, we didn't want to drive all the way to Virginia Beach, so we dropped them off downtown outside of the library. They gave us a nu-metal CD (I had unwisely told them that Jube liked heavy metal) and their gratitude.
Whenever I tell anyone about our hitchhiking adventure, they all say the same thing. "I can't believe you picked up hitchhikers! That's so dangerous!"
Jube and I catch each other's eye, and we both think the same thing. "Pas prudent!"
*Not careful!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Labor Day
On Labor Day Weekend, Jube and I had set up a busy schedule: Planet Arlington World Music Festival on Saturday, Picnic on the Mall on Sunday, family barbecue on Monday. Only Saturday and Monday succeeded, and all because I am a big idiot.
We were on the Metro, heading to Capitol South, when Jube realized that we were going the wrong way. We got out and started heading toward the escalators that connect the two directions. As we started up the moving stairs, Jube heard the train arriving on the other side.
"Hurry!" he told me, "We can still catch it!"
I had my doubts, but I still ran up the escalator. Or at least, I tried to run up. My flip flop caught one of the steps and I fell heavily on my left leg, bruising my knee and scraping my ankle. Because I am a cruel person and I wanted Jube to hurt as much as I did, I snapped, "Why did you make me run?" Tears had sprung to my eyes and I limped off of the escalator. It really really hurt! I've never felt as much pain in my life (well, maybe I have, but I certainly don't remember it feeling that bad!).
As I rode the other side's escalator down, I felt moisture on my leg. I looked at it and saw blood trickling past the bottom of my cropped pants. Strangely, I hadn't noticed any cuts, just a feeling of bruising around my knee. When I pulled up my pants leg, I almost fainted. Blood caked my knee and continued down my leg. In my bag, I had nothing to staunch the flow; no napkins, not even any receipts.
I started feeling nauseated and faint, so I sent Jube back up the killer escalator to find a station manager while I sat on the floor next to one of the concrete barriers, whimpering to myself and swabbing at the blood with my now-stained pants. Jube couldn't find any help, so we decided to head home. (For some reason, I'd thought that I could still make it to the picnic if only the station manager had been there with a first aid kit!) Of course, by this time we were about half an hour away from home and I would have to limp through the Labor Day Weekend crowds with a bloody pair of pants, but we couldn't help that.
I managed to keep from puking or fainting until we got home, where I cleaned up my wound and gently placed myself on the sofa. And then, since we had managed to miss our vegan picnic gathering, I turned to my husband and moaned, "Jube... could you get me a big hamburger from Wendy's please?"
I think I deserved it.
We were on the Metro, heading to Capitol South, when Jube realized that we were going the wrong way. We got out and started heading toward the escalators that connect the two directions. As we started up the moving stairs, Jube heard the train arriving on the other side.
"Hurry!" he told me, "We can still catch it!"
I had my doubts, but I still ran up the escalator. Or at least, I tried to run up. My flip flop caught one of the steps and I fell heavily on my left leg, bruising my knee and scraping my ankle. Because I am a cruel person and I wanted Jube to hurt as much as I did, I snapped, "Why did you make me run?" Tears had sprung to my eyes and I limped off of the escalator. It really really hurt! I've never felt as much pain in my life (well, maybe I have, but I certainly don't remember it feeling that bad!).
As I rode the other side's escalator down, I felt moisture on my leg. I looked at it and saw blood trickling past the bottom of my cropped pants. Strangely, I hadn't noticed any cuts, just a feeling of bruising around my knee. When I pulled up my pants leg, I almost fainted. Blood caked my knee and continued down my leg. In my bag, I had nothing to staunch the flow; no napkins, not even any receipts.
I started feeling nauseated and faint, so I sent Jube back up the killer escalator to find a station manager while I sat on the floor next to one of the concrete barriers, whimpering to myself and swabbing at the blood with my now-stained pants. Jube couldn't find any help, so we decided to head home. (For some reason, I'd thought that I could still make it to the picnic if only the station manager had been there with a first aid kit!) Of course, by this time we were about half an hour away from home and I would have to limp through the Labor Day Weekend crowds with a bloody pair of pants, but we couldn't help that.
I managed to keep from puking or fainting until we got home, where I cleaned up my wound and gently placed myself on the sofa. And then, since we had managed to miss our vegan picnic gathering, I turned to my husband and moaned, "Jube... could you get me a big hamburger from Wendy's please?"
I think I deserved it.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Style
Now that I'm a Real Professional, I have money to buy things! Now, I really like clothes, but I don't usually buy really expensive items. I love Zara and Mango, but mostly during the sales; once in a while I'll check out Macy's, but I'm more likely to buy something from a thrift store. My wedding dress cost $120; its matching shoes cost $65.
One exception to my preferences occurred this summer, during the 4th of July holiday. It was right before job interview season (while I'd had a couple before, they were all phone interviews), and I wanted a nice outfit. Well, my mom and I headed to the mall, where we found huge sales. I bought a Calvin Klein interview suit, and I like to think that it helped me get my job(s). At the same store, I saw a bag I really wanted. I desperately wanted it - I needed something to go with my black suit, something nice, and this fit the bill: red leather, big enough for my portfolio, professional looking, and more! But... it cost $70. (Interestingly enough, when I expressed my feelings that $70 was too much for a bag, my friends were divided: some told me to just buy it, because it really wasn't very much money; others agreed with me and pushed me to turn it down. "Expensive" and "bargain" are highly subjective terms.) I just couldn't spend that much! And I didn't. A few days later I bought a cheaper version of my bag, made from synthetic material, still good looking enough...
Back to the present (2 months later...). I still wanted that bag. I really really wanted it. Even though I didn't have the excuse of "I need it!", I did have the excuse of a new paycheck. So during my lunch break, I drove to the mall and searched for it. I found it, but hesitated again, because now I had a red bag already! I went over to the bags on sale, and I saw my dreams come true: the same bag, on sale, in a khaki color. Perfect! I snapped it up.
That night I showed Jube my new bag. "Isn't it great?" I enthused.
"How much did it cost?" he asked.
I get very offended when he asks me how much my clothes cost, because for some reason I hear criticism of my spending habits. I really don't think he means any, but my gut reaction is always to snap back something like, "It cost less than your GT-10!"
Which is what I said.
"Gem, I don't care how much it cost!" he told me. "You're the one who always likes to tell me about your good deals!" Which is true. "I just think it's funny that all your bags are kind of... preppy looking."
I'd never thought of it that way before. "Preppy looking? And the rest of my clothes aren't?"
He gave me the once-over. "Well, no. Not at all."
"I guess I just like preppy bags." And I've been using it ever since!
One exception to my preferences occurred this summer, during the 4th of July holiday. It was right before job interview season (while I'd had a couple before, they were all phone interviews), and I wanted a nice outfit. Well, my mom and I headed to the mall, where we found huge sales. I bought a Calvin Klein interview suit, and I like to think that it helped me get my job(s). At the same store, I saw a bag I really wanted. I desperately wanted it - I needed something to go with my black suit, something nice, and this fit the bill: red leather, big enough for my portfolio, professional looking, and more! But... it cost $70. (Interestingly enough, when I expressed my feelings that $70 was too much for a bag, my friends were divided: some told me to just buy it, because it really wasn't very much money; others agreed with me and pushed me to turn it down. "Expensive" and "bargain" are highly subjective terms.) I just couldn't spend that much! And I didn't. A few days later I bought a cheaper version of my bag, made from synthetic material, still good looking enough...
Back to the present (2 months later...). I still wanted that bag. I really really wanted it. Even though I didn't have the excuse of "I need it!", I did have the excuse of a new paycheck. So during my lunch break, I drove to the mall and searched for it. I found it, but hesitated again, because now I had a red bag already! I went over to the bags on sale, and I saw my dreams come true: the same bag, on sale, in a khaki color. Perfect! I snapped it up.
That night I showed Jube my new bag. "Isn't it great?" I enthused.
"How much did it cost?" he asked.
I get very offended when he asks me how much my clothes cost, because for some reason I hear criticism of my spending habits. I really don't think he means any, but my gut reaction is always to snap back something like, "It cost less than your GT-10!"
Which is what I said.
"Gem, I don't care how much it cost!" he told me. "You're the one who always likes to tell me about your good deals!" Which is true. "I just think it's funny that all your bags are kind of... preppy looking."
I'd never thought of it that way before. "Preppy looking? And the rest of my clothes aren't?"
He gave me the once-over. "Well, no. Not at all."
"I guess I just like preppy bags." And I've been using it ever since!
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