My mom leaves me a message that she has, in contrast to my suggestion, not packed tennis shoes. "Between my tapered jeans and the big white shoes, I look like a smurf."
Two items:
(1) TAPERED JEANS?!?!?! Dear God, this is what happens when I'm not there to take my mother shopping, or at least veto her purchases. Will have to work on this.
(2) I think the market on ginormous, white shoes is pretty much cornered by Indian emigres.
My little brother (LB1) calls me to say that he is trying to get in touch with our parents and that he has left a message on their cellphone. I remind him that there is no way in hell that they know how to check voicemail. (This is underlined by the fact that their message is "You have reached the Sprint voicemail box for [static]", i.e. someone tried to change the option and just didn't record anything.) LB1 agrees with me. When my parents arrive, I tell them that LB1 left them a voicemail and my dad says, "You know, I don't know how to check the voicemail." Mmmmyeah.
On the ride back from the San Jose airport, I am given a running commentary on how the area has changed in the last 30 years.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
55 Fiction Friday: Sour Patch Kids Edition
Friday tries to fit a theme.
Opposites attract and all, but Friday nights were still a negotiation – he, ardent lover of romantic comedies, she, proponent of action and comic book/superhero flicks. Often, both were disappointed. No amount of popcorn or Junior Mints could salve his desire for a witticism, or her penchant for special effects when what they had was “Jackass.”
Opposites attract and all, but Friday nights were still a negotiation – he, ardent lover of romantic comedies, she, proponent of action and comic book/superhero flicks. Often, both were disappointed. No amount of popcorn or Junior Mints could salve his desire for a witticism, or her penchant for special effects when what they had was “Jackass.”
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Sleep to Dream
Wednesday is as good a time as any for the weekend update.
Friday. I like to spend Fridays in. It's usually a time for Target, Netflix and my couch. (Mmm, three of my favorite things.) This Friday, I felt .... not so well. And this would be a running theme throughout the weekend. For reasons unknown, I spent most of the weekend feeling like I couldn't keep my eyes open and perpetually forgetting to eat (like ... 2 meals a day. Leading to ravenous hunger somewhere down the line. Awesome.)
Saturday. Had to get serious on the cleaning up for the parentals front. Alternated between cleaning and full-on crashing. I don't much care for naps because I wake up paranoid. It takes me forever to hatch after taking a nap - it's just not worth it. I did manage to get it together and head to SJM's for a little soiree. The idea was that we would go out to dinner, but with 10 people (aka the ones who were approaching being on time), we knew that wasn't going to happen. It ended up being take-out from Chutney - a hugely good thing, as more and more people filtered in.
Sunday. I need to take a break from house-hunting - that much is clear. I procrastinated and procrastinated about getting in the car and driving up to the city. Procrastination is a sign that you are trying to make yourself do something that you do not want to do. I'm burned out on driving from house-to-house and the gladhanding of realtors and the odd, awkward conversations with other would-be homebuyers. This Sunday, I will be skipping the open houses as my parents will be in town. (Next week's weekend update should be .... interesting.)
How are we doing T-minus 1 day until parents? A lot still needs to be done - last night was the laundry extravaganza. Tonight is, well, everything-else-that-needs-to-get-done-anza.
Friday. I like to spend Fridays in. It's usually a time for Target, Netflix and my couch. (Mmm, three of my favorite things.) This Friday, I felt .... not so well. And this would be a running theme throughout the weekend. For reasons unknown, I spent most of the weekend feeling like I couldn't keep my eyes open and perpetually forgetting to eat (like ... 2 meals a day. Leading to ravenous hunger somewhere down the line. Awesome.)
Saturday. Had to get serious on the cleaning up for the parentals front. Alternated between cleaning and full-on crashing. I don't much care for naps because I wake up paranoid. It takes me forever to hatch after taking a nap - it's just not worth it. I did manage to get it together and head to SJM's for a little soiree. The idea was that we would go out to dinner, but with 10 people (aka the ones who were approaching being on time), we knew that wasn't going to happen. It ended up being take-out from Chutney - a hugely good thing, as more and more people filtered in.
Sunday. I need to take a break from house-hunting - that much is clear. I procrastinated and procrastinated about getting in the car and driving up to the city. Procrastination is a sign that you are trying to make yourself do something that you do not want to do. I'm burned out on driving from house-to-house and the gladhanding of realtors and the odd, awkward conversations with other would-be homebuyers. This Sunday, I will be skipping the open houses as my parents will be in town. (Next week's weekend update should be .... interesting.)
How are we doing T-minus 1 day until parents? A lot still needs to be done - last night was the laundry extravaganza. Tonight is, well, everything-else-that-needs-to-get-done-anza.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Skeet surfin'
On a recent Sunday, I went shooting (shootin' ?) Quick background: I, along with a group of coworkers, won a morning of shooting at our annual charity auction. I had a great time, and would recommend it (and might go again.) The partner singled me out as the person most likely to end up buying a shotgun, but I doubt that very, very seriously.
Here's where it gets interesting: telling my mother. I don't know why I told her - I was afraid that she would freak out about it. (This is the woman who didn't want me donating blood after 9-11 because it involved needles. And therefore, somehow, was dangerous.)
maisnon: So, um, I went shooting on Sunday
maman: REALLY? Were you good????
maisnon: Uh, NO?
maman: Oh, I'm surprised. You didn't hit anything?
maisnon: Well, I hit some....
maman: You know, you have to keep OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON shooting.
maisnon: It's a shotgun - there are only two bullets!
maman: When you aim you need to be a little bit ahead of the target.
maisnon (inner): WTF is up with all of this shooting advice from a woman who has never held a gun???
maisnon: Okay, um, thanks. Wait - why did you think I'd be good at shooting?
maman: Well, you used to play that game on the computer....
maisnon (inner): what the hell is she talking about? Go go Gadget filial ESP.
maisnon: DUCK HUNT. I used to play Duck Hunt on Nintendo and you thought that would somehow translate into some kind of skill?
My mother remains the most hilarious person in my life.
Here's where it gets interesting: telling my mother. I don't know why I told her - I was afraid that she would freak out about it. (This is the woman who didn't want me donating blood after 9-11 because it involved needles. And therefore, somehow, was dangerous.)
maisnon: So, um, I went shooting on Sunday
maman: REALLY? Were you good????
maisnon: Uh, NO?
maman: Oh, I'm surprised. You didn't hit anything?
maisnon: Well, I hit some....
maman: You know, you have to keep OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON shooting.
maisnon: It's a shotgun - there are only two bullets!
maman: When you aim you need to be a little bit ahead of the target.
maisnon (inner): WTF is up with all of this shooting advice from a woman who has never held a gun???
maisnon: Okay, um, thanks. Wait - why did you think I'd be good at shooting?
maman: Well, you used to play that game on the computer....
maisnon (inner): what the hell is she talking about? Go go Gadget filial ESP.
maisnon: DUCK HUNT. I used to play Duck Hunt on Nintendo and you thought that would somehow translate into some kind of skill?
My mother remains the most hilarious person in my life.
Friday, October 06, 2006
55 Fiction Friday: Duality edition
Friday!
Sometimes I think you don’t understand me at all. And then, you smile at me from across the room at a house party, riffing off something only we would find funny. The left corner of your mouth curved, the barest hint of teeth – it is such a small thing, but it holds me to you.
Sometimes I think you don’t understand me at all. And then, you smile at me from across the room at a house party, riffing off something only we would find funny. The left corner of your mouth curved, the barest hint of teeth – it is such a small thing, but it holds me to you.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Future Edens
The feeling I've been having, gnawing at the edges of everything, is that I need to have some kind of master planning session with myself. Some kind of forum, or conference where I drink copious amounts of hot tea and sketch out plans, ideas, targets and goals on lined paper, maybe do some pacing around with shirt sleeves rolled up, and, perhaps, make some Powerpoint slides. I think that being organized and structured about it all would make me feel virtuous - but I don't want to feel virtuous, I want to be productive and actually move towards what I want. Maybe that is what I'm learning right now - how to keep moving in the right direction; to not wait to have the whole course plotted out.
It's the perfectionist's plight: if you never really tried, you never really failed. I feel like I spent the first half of my twenties being a focused, logical, goal-oriented type; and the second half learning to temper that with the benefits of intuition, and a more ... visceral way of dealing with things. Sometimes when pushing won't get it done, letting go and floating will. And sometimes when it makes the absolute least "sense", you have to jump.
Putting these things together, I am going to stop cheating myself. I know what I want and I can progress towards it in baby steps, holding up a finger to test the wind periodically. And, I see it now - that, just as the opposite of love is not hate but apathy, that not trying is the worst kind of failure of all.
It's the perfectionist's plight: if you never really tried, you never really failed. I feel like I spent the first half of my twenties being a focused, logical, goal-oriented type; and the second half learning to temper that with the benefits of intuition, and a more ... visceral way of dealing with things. Sometimes when pushing won't get it done, letting go and floating will. And sometimes when it makes the absolute least "sense", you have to jump.
Putting these things together, I am going to stop cheating myself. I know what I want and I can progress towards it in baby steps, holding up a finger to test the wind periodically. And, I see it now - that, just as the opposite of love is not hate but apathy, that not trying is the worst kind of failure of all.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
You're on Notice!
You can make your own here. (h/t to the Happy Feminist.)
Things that nearly made the list:
- the Black-Eyed Peas (shout out to brimful and bollyhoo!)
- FOX "news"
- anyone who says 'I went to high school with an Indian guy!'
- um, SDS (oodles!)
- Napoleon-types (and I'm not talkin' Dynamite)
- and, of course, Deepak Chopra
I'll append to this list as I think of more people/places/things/concepts that need to be put on notice
Pride & Prejudice
Ah, the weekend update.
Friday, I decided I needed to get serious about the impending parental visit. So, I spent the evening at Target (naturally), and then alternating between frantically cleaning and watching episodes of "Pride and Prejudice" (the BBC series) to stave off a major freakout. I've ignored the apartment/life overhaul that needs to happen to sanitize it for parental consumption, and now it will be a full-court press to get it all done. It's the best way, really. (Or at least that's what I tell myself.)
Saturday, I did more "envisioning" of cleaning until it was time to head into the city for BOLLYWOOD NIGHT! That's right, kids! Oodles was our effervescent hostess as she plied us with the food she "slaved over all day" (and it ended on a sweet note - mmmm, Bombay Ice Creamery!) This time the crowd took in a movie with SRK and Madhuri Dixit. But wait - there's more! Salman Khan! Yes, we watched Hum Tumkare Hain Sanam. Yeah, as usual, I have no idea what it means. Although it might mean "SRK as a jealous, bitter newlywed who can't get any is actually funny."
There was one stellar, stellar theater of the absurd-type scene where drunken/crazy SRK is throwing some game and/or consulting a statue of a horse. Correction, statue of a horse's head. "You have such long ears (stroke stroke) You're such a good listener. But you have no legs." Jigga-wha?!?!?! At one point, the scene cut away to a reaction shot from the horse head statue. It just doesn't get better than that.
I headed home and watched the end of the "Pride & Prejudice" miniseries. (Mr. Darcy = the yum.) I realize that 75% of the Bollywood movies I've ever seen follow the same formula: guy and girl would be great together, one or both don't realize it, comitragic series of events, misunderstandings, etc. Both now have "feelings" for each other. All's well that ends well...... aaaaaaaaaand, scene!
Sunday, involved more open houses, this time concentrating on the Bernal Heights neighborhood. The funny thing is Bernal was the first place I ever stayed in the city and I loved it. When I knew I was moving here, I wanted to live there, BUT I thought I should keep my options open and check out other parts of the city. And, now, I'm back to the idea of wanting to live there. I did the same thing with law school - I really only wanted to go to the law school I attended, but decided that if I was serious, I should apply to more schools. Yeah. I could have saved myself about $700.
Bernal Heights is called that because, not surprisingly, it's on a big-ass hill. I skipped cardio Sunday morning knowing that I would be clambering around that hill. Earlier in the week, I met SJM at Little Nepal for dinner (so that I could check out the neighborhood on a weeknight.) We drove around, stalking houses from the outside. At one point, we saw a sign that said "HILL" and I laughed ... moments later we were both kind of screaming as the car slid down a rollercoaster-sized hill. I got my workout in - some of the streets were so steep that I stopped every 3 houses, pretending to admire the view to catch my breath. Some streets were linked by pedestrian stairs (i.e. climb a flight of stairs to reach the next street.) I had a great time, but I haven't found "it" yet. The evening concluded with Vietnamese food and "The Godfather" - a rockstar combination.
Friday, I decided I needed to get serious about the impending parental visit. So, I spent the evening at Target (naturally), and then alternating between frantically cleaning and watching episodes of "Pride and Prejudice" (the BBC series) to stave off a major freakout. I've ignored the apartment/life overhaul that needs to happen to sanitize it for parental consumption, and now it will be a full-court press to get it all done. It's the best way, really. (Or at least that's what I tell myself.)
Saturday, I did more "envisioning" of cleaning until it was time to head into the city for BOLLYWOOD NIGHT! That's right, kids! Oodles was our effervescent hostess as she plied us with the food she "slaved over all day" (and it ended on a sweet note - mmmm, Bombay Ice Creamery!) This time the crowd took in a movie with SRK and Madhuri Dixit. But wait - there's more! Salman Khan! Yes, we watched Hum Tumkare Hain Sanam. Yeah, as usual, I have no idea what it means. Although it might mean "SRK as a jealous, bitter newlywed who can't get any is actually funny."
There was one stellar, stellar theater of the absurd-type scene where drunken/crazy SRK is throwing some game and/or consulting a statue of a horse. Correction, statue of a horse's head. "You have such long ears (stroke stroke) You're such a good listener. But you have no legs." Jigga-wha?!?!?! At one point, the scene cut away to a reaction shot from the horse head statue. It just doesn't get better than that.
I headed home and watched the end of the "Pride & Prejudice" miniseries. (Mr. Darcy = the yum.) I realize that 75% of the Bollywood movies I've ever seen follow the same formula: guy and girl would be great together, one or both don't realize it, comitragic series of events, misunderstandings, etc. Both now have "feelings" for each other. All's well that ends well...... aaaaaaaaaand, scene!
Sunday, involved more open houses, this time concentrating on the Bernal Heights neighborhood. The funny thing is Bernal was the first place I ever stayed in the city and I loved it. When I knew I was moving here, I wanted to live there, BUT I thought I should keep my options open and check out other parts of the city. And, now, I'm back to the idea of wanting to live there. I did the same thing with law school - I really only wanted to go to the law school I attended, but decided that if I was serious, I should apply to more schools. Yeah. I could have saved myself about $700.
Bernal Heights is called that because, not surprisingly, it's on a big-ass hill. I skipped cardio Sunday morning knowing that I would be clambering around that hill. Earlier in the week, I met SJM at Little Nepal for dinner (so that I could check out the neighborhood on a weeknight.) We drove around, stalking houses from the outside. At one point, we saw a sign that said "HILL" and I laughed ... moments later we were both kind of screaming as the car slid down a rollercoaster-sized hill. I got my workout in - some of the streets were so steep that I stopped every 3 houses, pretending to admire the view to catch my breath. Some streets were linked by pedestrian stairs (i.e. climb a flight of stairs to reach the next street.) I had a great time, but I haven't found "it" yet. The evening concluded with Vietnamese food and "The Godfather" - a rockstar combination.
Friday, September 29, 2006
55 Friday Fiction: Papyrus edition
Friday is unseasonal.
She opened the folder, unconsciously holding her breath. The cursive font on the heavy paper was so ornate it was almost unreadable, but it trumpeted her achievement: degree, honors, name (including the middle name from her great-grandmother), complete with seal, signatures and embossing. There it was: the most expensive piece of paper she’d ever purchased.
She opened the folder, unconsciously holding her breath. The cursive font on the heavy paper was so ornate it was almost unreadable, but it trumpeted her achievement: degree, honors, name (including the middle name from her great-grandmother), complete with seal, signatures and embossing. There it was: the most expensive piece of paper she’d ever purchased.
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