viernes, 27 de junio de 2008
I want one for a pet
I'm sure half of you have already seen this video, but it gives me the giggles every time.
jueves, 26 de junio de 2008
mellow yellow
Hi kids!
Because I had nothing better to do and was taking a break from my latest photoshop binge, I created a GOOD BOOKS page you may notice up at the top. Enjoy!
So... this has been a summer of tackling new things so far. First, there's been golf.
Oh, the suckage. It's amazing how bad I am at this game. A few trips to the driving range and another nine holes later, and I'm not quite as embarrassingly horrible as I was, but that's not saying much.
Luckily Brandon and my brother came with us over the weekend, and I was in great company. I wouldn't want to mention any names, but SOMEONE threw his club a few times.
(Ok, you twisted my arm. It was Brandon).
Also, this guy may also have shown small signs of frustration:
It was awful fun to have them along with us, though. And once we finished the 9th hole, we shot golf balls into the pond for a while (It's far more fun doing that on purpose).
Because golf hasn't quite offered my out-of-shape body enough punishment, however, I've begun bicycling.
Not just on any old bike, but on this sweet Craigslist find!
(I heart Craigslist, btw. I found my awesome job and now this bike there. And I've heard of people's roommates putting up Craigslist ads and getting them a girlfriend that way).
Mellow yellow! I am still in awe of its girly perfection -- all without committing the cardinal sin of being pink. (Blech.)
All in all, between a ride with Kevo up to Western's campus and through downtown on Saturday and riding back and forth to work all week, I've put in almost 30 miles. Hey, I know it's not exactly the Tour-de-France, but it's a start, right? My legs are sore, to say nothing of my poor hiney, but other than that I feel fantastic. Plus I feel uber-ecoconscious to have driven my car a bare minimum on a week when gas hit $4.49 a gallon. (Other than that 24-hour trip down to Poulsbo for Justin's mom's wedding. I'm pretty sure that doesn't count).
From now on, you can all call me LiveStrong.
Snicker.
Because I had nothing better to do and was taking a break from my latest photoshop binge, I created a GOOD BOOKS page you may notice up at the top. Enjoy!
So... this has been a summer of tackling new things so far. First, there's been golf.
Oh, the suckage. It's amazing how bad I am at this game. A few trips to the driving range and another nine holes later, and I'm not quite as embarrassingly horrible as I was, but that's not saying much.
Luckily Brandon and my brother came with us over the weekend, and I was in great company. I wouldn't want to mention any names, but SOMEONE threw his club a few times.
(Ok, you twisted my arm. It was Brandon).
Also, this guy may also have shown small signs of frustration:
It was awful fun to have them along with us, though. And once we finished the 9th hole, we shot golf balls into the pond for a while (It's far more fun doing that on purpose).
Because golf hasn't quite offered my out-of-shape body enough punishment, however, I've begun bicycling.
Not just on any old bike, but on this sweet Craigslist find!
(I heart Craigslist, btw. I found my awesome job and now this bike there. And I've heard of people's roommates putting up Craigslist ads and getting them a girlfriend that way).
Mellow yellow! I am still in awe of its girly perfection -- all without committing the cardinal sin of being pink. (Blech.)
All in all, between a ride with Kevo up to Western's campus and through downtown on Saturday and riding back and forth to work all week, I've put in almost 30 miles. Hey, I know it's not exactly the Tour-de-France, but it's a start, right? My legs are sore, to say nothing of my poor hiney, but other than that I feel fantastic. Plus I feel uber-ecoconscious to have driven my car a bare minimum on a week when gas hit $4.49 a gallon. (Other than that 24-hour trip down to Poulsbo for Justin's mom's wedding. I'm pretty sure that doesn't count).
From now on, you can all call me LiveStrong.
Snicker.
martes, 24 de junio de 2008
lunes, 16 de junio de 2008
good news!
I'd like to start this post by resolutely stating that there are few things better at 8:45 pm than a nice big bowl of Fruit Loops.
(Unless that thing is this little-understood concept called "self control.")
Oops. Out of cereal. BRB...
Ah. That's better. Onward.
Now that you're all hungry for sugary children's cereal...
Good news has hit the Lawlii household. You may find it odd, given that I've just typed five sentences about little rings of high fructose corn syrup saturated with artificial color, rings that leave the roof of your mouth raw -- but I received a scholarship to a weeklong writing conference a few days ago. It came completely out of the blue -- my Spiritual Autobiography prof wrote me and said, hey, there's this scholarship available for this conference, and the school will pay your room and board, so if you're interested...
Um, yes please! I had checked out different writing retreats and conferences before, but they were out of reach -- at times in terms of cost, and other times in terms of how long they are (some are a month or longer). The thought of actually being able to go raised my heart rate up quick!
A few conversations (with Justin, then my new boss) later, I was signed up to go the third week in July. As if I didn't already have enough reason to be thankful for my new job, the doc said to me, "Well, of course you have to go. I'm not naive. I know this job is a stopping off place for you, not the end goal. If I can help you get toward things that will get you closer to that end-goal, then I want to do that." Seriously, she's amazing. It's nice to be appreciated.
I'll be doing a creative nonfiction workshop every morning, workshops in different genres in the afternoons, spending time alone for some free writes, and then going to readings by faculty and guests in the evening. For a week: eat, breathe, speak, sleep writing. With other writers. Who hopefully won't mind that I'm a baby writer, just a wittle guy. Writing, writing, writing.
For months and years to come, I'll be chirping, "This one time, at writing camp..." Oh dear.
The only drawback is it will be the first time Justin and I have spent a night apart, which, to be honest, was something I had to consider for a moment before good sense overcame me and I said I'd go. I'm a light sleeper, so I haven't exactly gotten great sleep ever since we were married, but I have a suspicion I'll sleep horribly on my own that week in my sparse little dorm room, too. That's the way it goes, I guess. I'm just thankful Justin was so supportive. He was up at Western's campus working on a group project when I texted him the news. "You write her back and tell her you're in," he said. "We'll figure out the rest later."
He's kind of incredible like that.
I'm going to miss him like crazy.
It occurs to me: this may be even harder than letting him go to the grocery store without me.
I'm not going to think about that now.
More Fruit Loops, stat! (Just kidding. Probably).
(Unless that thing is this little-understood concept called "self control.")
Oops. Out of cereal. BRB...
Ah. That's better. Onward.
Now that you're all hungry for sugary children's cereal...
Good news has hit the Lawlii household. You may find it odd, given that I've just typed five sentences about little rings of high fructose corn syrup saturated with artificial color, rings that leave the roof of your mouth raw -- but I received a scholarship to a weeklong writing conference a few days ago. It came completely out of the blue -- my Spiritual Autobiography prof wrote me and said, hey, there's this scholarship available for this conference, and the school will pay your room and board, so if you're interested...
Um, yes please! I had checked out different writing retreats and conferences before, but they were out of reach -- at times in terms of cost, and other times in terms of how long they are (some are a month or longer). The thought of actually being able to go raised my heart rate up quick!
A few conversations (with Justin, then my new boss) later, I was signed up to go the third week in July. As if I didn't already have enough reason to be thankful for my new job, the doc said to me, "Well, of course you have to go. I'm not naive. I know this job is a stopping off place for you, not the end goal. If I can help you get toward things that will get you closer to that end-goal, then I want to do that." Seriously, she's amazing. It's nice to be appreciated.
I'll be doing a creative nonfiction workshop every morning, workshops in different genres in the afternoons, spending time alone for some free writes, and then going to readings by faculty and guests in the evening. For a week: eat, breathe, speak, sleep writing. With other writers. Who hopefully won't mind that I'm a baby writer, just a wittle guy. Writing, writing, writing.
For months and years to come, I'll be chirping, "This one time, at writing camp..." Oh dear.
The only drawback is it will be the first time Justin and I have spent a night apart, which, to be honest, was something I had to consider for a moment before good sense overcame me and I said I'd go. I'm a light sleeper, so I haven't exactly gotten great sleep ever since we were married, but I have a suspicion I'll sleep horribly on my own that week in my sparse little dorm room, too. That's the way it goes, I guess. I'm just thankful Justin was so supportive. He was up at Western's campus working on a group project when I texted him the news. "You write her back and tell her you're in," he said. "We'll figure out the rest later."
He's kind of incredible like that.
I'm going to miss him like crazy.
It occurs to me: this may be even harder than letting him go to the grocery store without me.
I'm not going to think about that now.
More Fruit Loops, stat! (Just kidding. Probably).
domingo, 15 de junio de 2008
golf? really?
Julie: "Wait a minute, you're telling me you have your own set of golf clubs?" she says, fighting disbelief. I detect the slightest traces of a snicker in that sweet little voice of hers.
Me: "Yep. They're baby blue."
Julie: "I have your permission to give you a hard time about this, right?" What she good-naturedly means but does not say is, "I know you're trying to be a supportive wife and all, but golf? Now you've officially gone off the reservation."
Yes, friends, I went golfing for the first time on Thursday night. I was speaking with an acquaintance at work and told her that Justin was resuming golf now that the weather was finally starting to appear almost June-like, but that he kept on having a hard time scheduling with his buddy. "Well, you should totally just head out there and play, too," Pamela said.
I mentioned this conversation to Justin when we were out to lunch later that day, and his eyes took on a shine the way they do when I say something like, "Man! When is it going to be football season again?" or, "Sure, grilled cheese and tomato soup sounds good for lunch." "Play another game of DOTA. You've earned it."
(Ok, so actually I don't really say that last thing very often, or ever, but you get the idea.)
We stopped by Play It Again Sports on the way home from lunch, bought a beginner's set of clubs (did I mention they're baby blue?), and set a tee time for later in the evening. How hard could it be? I reasoned. You wear awful pants, bend over, stick your ass out, and hit the white ball. Done and done.
Like this guy:
Justin took me over to a little side area with a net where folks can get warmed up and practice. A few swings into this whole brouhaha, I realize: there may be a little more to this game than I'd previously believed.
Already feeling self-consciousness rising within me to approximately the level of my throat, I trek on over to the first hole. My golf bag is fashioned to hang from my shoulders kind of like a backpack, but it keeps me a little off-balance and the way the clubs clink with every step feels noisy on the quiet course. This is one of those moments I'm going to make a complete and utter fool of myself.
We're just about to tee off when we hear a voice come over the loudspeaker. To me it sounds just like the "Wah wah wah waaah wa wah" from Charlie Brown, but my husband determines we should wait -- we have two people joining us.
"What?" I ask Justin, my voice rising a few octaves instantly. Oh, crap. Witnesses to this disaster?
Two gentlemen in their fifties join us on the green. That awkward feeling rises approximately to the level of my eyeballs. But we all shake hands and introduce ourselves, we explain this is my first time, and Stan and Beau smile to welcome me.
It could be that had we golfed with cold, rather snarky people, it could have ruined the experience for me forever. (By the way, don't you just love that word "snarky"? I do). But these guys were cool and laid back and extremely helpful. For instance -- Stan, after watching a rather impressive run of me swinging eight times without hitting the ball, decided to have mercy on my soul and take some action. He had me line up my swing. Then he stood in front of me and placed his hand on my head. "Okay. I'm going to hold your head down while you swing, alright?"
It's been a while since someone I've been acquainted with less than half an hour has grabbed me by the top of my head, but as Justin didn't appear alarmed, I kept my cool. Amazingly, I didn't hit Stan's shins, but the golf ball. (I'm going to patent a product for beginning golfers that pretty much just involves a dude in his fifties who will stand in front of you and hold your head down while you swing. You see, that's what you have to do. You have to use your mind and come up with some really great idea like that and you never have to work again!).
It certainly was one of the worst rounds of golf Raspberry Ridge has ever seen, but I did hit the ball less-than-obscenely a couple times, and even managed a Tiger Woods fist pump a time or two, just for grins. I've had muscles hurt the last few days that I wasn't aware I had, but I'm sufficiently recovered enough to head out to the driving range this afternoon for some more punishment.
Ah, the things we do for love. Like see The Incredible Hulk in the theater.
Side note: I really hate CGI characters other than Gollum. It's been completely downhill ever since then.
Next time: join me for a rousing tale of my forays into the exciting game that is Warcraft 3.
(Then again, maybe not. A girl's got to draw the line somewhere).
Me: "Yep. They're baby blue."
Julie: "I have your permission to give you a hard time about this, right?" What she good-naturedly means but does not say is, "I know you're trying to be a supportive wife and all, but golf? Now you've officially gone off the reservation."
Yes, friends, I went golfing for the first time on Thursday night. I was speaking with an acquaintance at work and told her that Justin was resuming golf now that the weather was finally starting to appear almost June-like, but that he kept on having a hard time scheduling with his buddy. "Well, you should totally just head out there and play, too," Pamela said.
I mentioned this conversation to Justin when we were out to lunch later that day, and his eyes took on a shine the way they do when I say something like, "Man! When is it going to be football season again?" or, "Sure, grilled cheese and tomato soup sounds good for lunch." "Play another game of DOTA. You've earned it."
(Ok, so actually I don't really say that last thing very often, or ever, but you get the idea.)
We stopped by Play It Again Sports on the way home from lunch, bought a beginner's set of clubs (did I mention they're baby blue?), and set a tee time for later in the evening. How hard could it be? I reasoned. You wear awful pants, bend over, stick your ass out, and hit the white ball. Done and done.
Like this guy:
Justin took me over to a little side area with a net where folks can get warmed up and practice. A few swings into this whole brouhaha, I realize: there may be a little more to this game than I'd previously believed.
Already feeling self-consciousness rising within me to approximately the level of my throat, I trek on over to the first hole. My golf bag is fashioned to hang from my shoulders kind of like a backpack, but it keeps me a little off-balance and the way the clubs clink with every step feels noisy on the quiet course. This is one of those moments I'm going to make a complete and utter fool of myself.
We're just about to tee off when we hear a voice come over the loudspeaker. To me it sounds just like the "Wah wah wah waaah wa wah" from Charlie Brown, but my husband determines we should wait -- we have two people joining us.
"What?" I ask Justin, my voice rising a few octaves instantly. Oh, crap. Witnesses to this disaster?
Two gentlemen in their fifties join us on the green. That awkward feeling rises approximately to the level of my eyeballs. But we all shake hands and introduce ourselves, we explain this is my first time, and Stan and Beau smile to welcome me.
It could be that had we golfed with cold, rather snarky people, it could have ruined the experience for me forever. (By the way, don't you just love that word "snarky"? I do). But these guys were cool and laid back and extremely helpful. For instance -- Stan, after watching a rather impressive run of me swinging eight times without hitting the ball, decided to have mercy on my soul and take some action. He had me line up my swing. Then he stood in front of me and placed his hand on my head. "Okay. I'm going to hold your head down while you swing, alright?"
It's been a while since someone I've been acquainted with less than half an hour has grabbed me by the top of my head, but as Justin didn't appear alarmed, I kept my cool. Amazingly, I didn't hit Stan's shins, but the golf ball. (I'm going to patent a product for beginning golfers that pretty much just involves a dude in his fifties who will stand in front of you and hold your head down while you swing. You see, that's what you have to do. You have to use your mind and come up with some really great idea like that and you never have to work again!).
It certainly was one of the worst rounds of golf Raspberry Ridge has ever seen, but I did hit the ball less-than-obscenely a couple times, and even managed a Tiger Woods fist pump a time or two, just for grins. I've had muscles hurt the last few days that I wasn't aware I had, but I'm sufficiently recovered enough to head out to the driving range this afternoon for some more punishment.
Ah, the things we do for love. Like see The Incredible Hulk in the theater.
Side note: I really hate CGI characters other than Gollum. It's been completely downhill ever since then.
Next time: join me for a rousing tale of my forays into the exciting game that is Warcraft 3.
(Then again, maybe not. A girl's got to draw the line somewhere).
sábado, 7 de junio de 2008
a new member of the Lawlii family
No, not that kind of family member. That's a few years off hopefully.
We have a piano in our home again... and I am in heaven.
Greta, the woman who I took over for as receptionist (she's having a baby any day now), wanted to get rid of her digital piano. This is the only piano I can have right now in a third story apartment, and the price was right, so we drove out a few weeks ago, popped it in the back of our Vibe wagon (miracle), and drove it home.
Ninety pounds was hard enough to get up three flights of stairs... I couldn't imagine a real piano.
The notes still come rather slow to my rusty fingers, but I'm reading music better and better all the time. Not having had a piano in my home for most of the last 10 years, I didn't know how much I'd missed it. Being able to play on a regular basis again -- it's near-bliss.
Yay for having a music corner in our office!
I'm sure some of you at least are familiar with the soundtrack from the new Pride and Prejudice -- I'm working at learning that (and whatever Regina Spektor I can get my hands on). We played one of the P&P themes as I walked down the aisle at our wedding, so it's even more enjoyable because of that significance.
Speaking of which, it's calling to me now... getting prepped for finals can wait...
We have a piano in our home again... and I am in heaven.
Greta, the woman who I took over for as receptionist (she's having a baby any day now), wanted to get rid of her digital piano. This is the only piano I can have right now in a third story apartment, and the price was right, so we drove out a few weeks ago, popped it in the back of our Vibe wagon (miracle), and drove it home.
Ninety pounds was hard enough to get up three flights of stairs... I couldn't imagine a real piano.
The notes still come rather slow to my rusty fingers, but I'm reading music better and better all the time. Not having had a piano in my home for most of the last 10 years, I didn't know how much I'd missed it. Being able to play on a regular basis again -- it's near-bliss.
Yay for having a music corner in our office!
I'm sure some of you at least are familiar with the soundtrack from the new Pride and Prejudice -- I'm working at learning that (and whatever Regina Spektor I can get my hands on). We played one of the P&P themes as I walked down the aisle at our wedding, so it's even more enjoyable because of that significance.
Speaking of which, it's calling to me now... getting prepped for finals can wait...
jueves, 5 de junio de 2008
summer is so close
I can taste it.
Well, kind of. The weather here has been and will continue to be crap -- outside it looks more like March than June. All week my shoes and pantlegs have been soaked by the time I walk from Red Square to our car.
But we had our last day of classes today, and the last of my work will be turned in Tuesday.
I'm anticipating A) reading sheerly for enjoyment's sake, and B) getting a chance to put words together totally unattached to assigned work, having time to play with what I learned.
Against all odds, and thanks mainly to the power of my buddy Caffeine, I finished my spiritual autobiography piece in the wee morning hours. (Years have passed since I experienced the delirium that is hitting the wall at 10 pm, downing a few more cups of coffee and pressing through another three hours, and I'm proud to know I'm still capable of it when necessary.) The piece is still rough in places and no doubt will see tons of revisions over the months to come, but if any are interested and would like to provide feedback, send me an email and I'll shoot it on out to you.
It may be that the cover is out ahead of the quality of the actual piece -- but I like where the words are on their way to, and that's a hell of a good start.
Well, kind of. The weather here has been and will continue to be crap -- outside it looks more like March than June. All week my shoes and pantlegs have been soaked by the time I walk from Red Square to our car.
But we had our last day of classes today, and the last of my work will be turned in Tuesday.
I'm anticipating A) reading sheerly for enjoyment's sake, and B) getting a chance to put words together totally unattached to assigned work, having time to play with what I learned.
Against all odds, and thanks mainly to the power of my buddy Caffeine, I finished my spiritual autobiography piece in the wee morning hours. (Years have passed since I experienced the delirium that is hitting the wall at 10 pm, downing a few more cups of coffee and pressing through another three hours, and I'm proud to know I'm still capable of it when necessary.) The piece is still rough in places and no doubt will see tons of revisions over the months to come, but if any are interested and would like to provide feedback, send me an email and I'll shoot it on out to you.
It may be that the cover is out ahead of the quality of the actual piece -- but I like where the words are on their way to, and that's a hell of a good start.
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