Is anybody out there?

Things have fallen strangely silent here in the city. Most people I know have already departed for the holidays, as have most of my coworkers. My email boxes are empty, I am not getting text messages nor has anyone called me. It is odd - I feel like the last person left at the controls after the ship has been abandoned.

The hubby departs upstate for the holidays tonight, while I follow tomorrow after work. Tonight I will be left at home with just Trudy, "The Fat Girl," having a pre-holiday cuddle on the couch and eating things I shouldn't. It actually feels good to me, the idea of having a last night in silence prior to the plunge into the celebrations. There were many years of my life that I was on my own most of the time, and sometimes part of me misses that. Not most of the time, by a long shot. The hubby and I had a friendly argument over my refusal to wear a hat this morning in the frigid cold. I need a haircut, and I was protesting that a hat would only make my hair stand up. He insisted, and as usual, I gave in.

He burst out laughing on the subway when I took the hat off. I didn't get to see why until I arrived at the office. Yes, I looked like Alfalfa from the "Little Rascals." I had to soak my head with water at the office bathroom to tame it so I didn't look like a freak. Still, I was glad there was someone around to happily laugh at me as only a family member can do.

Though it might have been better if no one had forced me to wear a hat. I have to think about that.

Well, back to the slog. Just wanted to pop in and wish everyone a happy "Holiday of Your Choice," depending on what that may be. I don't know, you may just dance around a gourd slathered in Marshmallow Fluff for your Solstice-surrounding holiday while singing off-key renditions of show tunes. Or not.

But whatever it is, I wish you all the very best.

Tags: holidays, hubby
Current Location: New York on the Arctic
Current Mood: cold

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I am remiss in posting in this here old journal thingy of late, and for that I apologize. Things have been so busy at work that I forget to post what I have written, and by the time I remember I just say, "Aw, heck, write something new tomorrow."

So I am writing something new tomorrow.

As some of you know, this will be my first Christmas, at age 43, not spent at my parents' house. We already have planned a Christmas with just us and friends for the country place, but I'll be honest - I'm feeling my way around this one. I'm not sure quite what to do, I have no script for how things are supposed to play out. On the day itself I have no doubt I will be wandering around in circles like a lost child at the mall, wondering where everyone is. I'll do my best to mask it though. The hubby has spent a lot of Christmases without his family in England, and I think he has been very patient about spending them with mine. He is very excited to have "our own Christmas."

It's a bit different for me.

When I was a small child we spent Christmas at my Italian grandmother's house, where there were so many of us the presents under the Christmas tree filled the whole room. There was a constant clamor of aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings, family friends and hangers on. It was glorious chaos. After we stopped going to my grandmother's house, my parents' own house was always full to the rafters, until over time more and more of the family stopped coming. Slowly, Christmas whittled down to just a few stalwarts, and now this year the day itself will be just hubby and I (we are having people over on Boxing Day). Christmas with just two people - I can barely fit that idea into my framework.

So, it will be quiet that day. I plan on doing a silly amount of cooking to keep myself occupied, to watch old movies with the hubby (even though his selections will likely bore me to tears), and just generally moving through the day. I think it will be a good day, but it will be something I have never done before. I guess you just move with the times and find new ways of being - the choice isn't yours in the end. But today I ordered gifts for delivery to my parents in their assisted living / nursing facility, and it seems a poor substitute.

Tags: country, family, holidays, hubby
Current Location: In a creepily quiet office
Current Mood: sad

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I think my mind has started grieving the loss of a television program.

A recent science program I saw had scientists discussing how dreams may be the way that the wet meat computer in our head processes information into a stored yet actionable format. It is the brain processing various courses of action that it could take (though, the dream itself may bear no relationship to same). I have absolutely no basis on which I could judge the validity of this assertion, but based on it I must conclude that a dream yesterday fits the bill.

I am grieving that Battlestar Galactica is done and over, and there likely will not be a program half as smart on television for the foreseeable future.

The dream was smutty though; but then, this is me we are talking about. It involved being at the gym only to realize that Jamie Bamber was working out right next to me, doing strenuous aerobic exercise and working up quite a sweat in a sleeveless t-shirt and tight shorts. Yes, it was as pretty as you might think. But the dream was more based on having him right there and being utterly unable to communicate with him. There was a wall erected between us, though invisible.

I am a terrible TV watcher. I can't connect enough with a serial program to follow it for episode after episode and season after season - I fail every time. Then I try and go back and I have no idea what has happened to the characters and storyline, and I get lost and change the channel. I do better with science programs and the like because I don't need to be committed past one episode. That said, for some reason, Battlestar Galactica held me through each season and episode. Most of the characters were so well drawn (some notable exceptions, like the ever heroic, pretty but dull Helo) and the constant moral ambiguity of EVERYTHING where you even sympathized with the genocidal villains, latched on to my brain. I miss the mental stimulation of it all.

I've tried Mad Men and found it ... pretty, but not compelling.

The comedy programs make me itch.

Let's face it - I am falling out of love with pop culture. Pretty soon I'll be sitting in my old armchair, the one with the whiskey stains on the arms, smoking a stogie and bitching about how slutty everyone on TV is, and what is that whore Madonna up to now?

Oh, and before you "I don't even own a TV" boobs pop up, the fact that you can't watch NOVA means you are missing out on some of the best science documentary you can get your hands on. So don't get too smug, you are stifling your own mind. And yes, I do read. A lot.

Still, I miss the anticipation of brain stimulation that the program provided. I hope something that interesting comes up again someday.

Tags: fuck!
Current Location: Counting down the hours to a long weekend
Current Mood: blank

This cup of soup is fine, but not as satisfying as a plate of pasta.

Curse the gods of fat!

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

Tags: fat boy, via ljapp
Current Location: 40.756104, -73.990341

I suspect my computer has been infiltrated.

I dutifully update and run my McAfee Virus Scan and etc., yet ...

Daily I go through a 15-20 minute slowdown where I can do nothing on the computer.

A few minutes ago Explorer kept trying to take me to a website while I was browsing LJ.

That website had "whiterace" in its domain name.

Now, LJ could have been hacked, or there is something on my computer.

Can anyone recommend a really GOOD program for scanning/cleanup of a Dell PC type beast?

I am concerned over this website thing. I don't like thinking that my computer could now be a Trojan Horse for a racist website.

Life can be a comedy of errors.

The hubby returned from two weeks in Hong Kong and India early on Saturday morning (as in 4:30 in the morning). He dragged me out of bed (after four hours of sleep) and drove us up to the country. We had a lovely day, setting up our Christmas tree for up there, as that is where we will be spending Christmas. We went out and bought the food for a traditional roast chicken dinner with all the fixings, which he was going to cook for us. All seemed well.

Hubby was watching an old Bing Crosby movie (gag!), and had fallen asleep, but had set his phone alarm. Having only a few hours of sleep I went upstairs for a nap. It was 4:30. I figured I would be up in an hour or so.

Some time later I woke up and could distantly hear hubby's phone alarm going off. And going off. And going off. I got irritated, as he had to get up and cook dinner but I didn't need to be up yet. Did I mention we have no clock in our bedroom, and I wasn't wearing a watch? Finally, I dragged myself downstairs to find him drooling asleep on the couch and the alarm going off. I picked it up, turned it off, and saw the time.

9:15 PM.

His alarm had been going off, FOR HOURS, without waking him up. And I had napped for over four hours.

I had to literally shake him to wake him. He stumbled in the kitchen to start the chicken (yes, we would have been eating VERY late, but he wanted to). After a while it would become clear that the oven wasn't heating. Reason? NO GAS FOR THE STOVE. The company had billed me for gas only a month before, but mysteriously we had NONE.

So, no dinner. It is now too late for any nearby restaurants. We have no other food in the house.

I went to the mini-mart at the local garage, and got us some microwave pizzas for dinner.

They were disgusting.

So Saturday night was a catastrophe. Still, despite his general jet-laggy droolishness and oversleeping, it was good to have him home. The cats were happy too - no more "substitute" daddy - the real one was home!

Peace has returned to our household.

Tags: cats, country, hubby
Current Location: Monday blues
Current Mood: blah

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Andrew Sullivan has turned into a totally adorable bear. He's gained weight, and it looks good on him. In this clip, he discusses Sarah Palin and the conservative movement, and I have to agree with everything he says. Damn he's fuckable.


Found on the Blue Truck, Red State blog.

Tags: politics