Star Trek Wootage

Yeah, OK, so I'm a Trekkie. So sue me.

No, I'm not hardcore. I can't give you episode names and numbers, nor do I know Dr. McCoy's serial number. I admit I've entered into the Kirk vs Picard debate (Kirk would win the battle, but Picard would win the war); I've read numerous books, and when I was twelve wrote a really horribly embarrassing Mary Sue. I freaked out over the opportunity to meet Nichelle Nichols (remember, Wdnsdyschld?) and gushed all over poor Walter Koenig when I shook his hand. I own a first edition Starship Enterprise collectible Christmas ornament and a Lt. Uhura dress, and am totally pumped that Esmeray is going to enter the Miss Klingon Empire competition this year.

Yeah, I've seen the movie twice, and am planning to see it a third time with Arizonakelly and Suz.

Yeah, the Munchkin and I stopped at Burger King specifically Friday night to get a couple of ST glasses. And took them home and gloated over them and washed them and put them lovingly in the cabinet.

And yes, I made a special trip to Burger King yesterday while my van was getting cleaned to pick up the last two glasses.

And yes, I admit it ... I was so disappointed over them being out of Spock glasses that I girded up my loins, put on my best friendly and flirty face, got nicely pushy, and arranged with the restaurant manager to buy the glass from the display case when the promo is over Monday morning.

I even gave him my phone number.

Okay. Maybe I am hardcore.

And, two of my fave-raves, combined!

I GOT 'EM BACK!!!!



woo hoo!

Memorial Day, 2009 Monday, May, 25, 2009
by John Fischer

War is hell.

There's no way around this. It has always been this way. I used to think it was the Vietnam conflict that robbed war of its glory, but it was only the old Hollywood WWII movies that glamorized it. Steven Spielberg changed that forever in the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan—a sickeningly real depiction of the Normandy invasion at Omaha Beach that made John Wayne's movies seem like a visit to the Mickey Mouse Club set.

So this Memorial Day, I'm thinking not of the great heroes who accomplished our freedom, but of the young kid in the front row of an amphibious transport vehicle who took the first round of enemy fire in his chest before he ever got to even leave the boat or shoot his rifle. And I'm thinking of the 5,000 other men who died on the beach that day, June 6, 1944, and what they died for. I'm thinking of the senselessness of it all—a young man's noble send-off, his training, his prayers, his shaky fingers around his last smoke after throwing up on the boat (was he seasick or just scared?), the front of the boat falling away, and the first bullet ending his all-too-short story. I'm thinking of his mom and dad sitting home in perhaps another Omaha (not the beach), listening to the news and wondering how their dear Billy is doing over there.

How many times has this played itself out in just the brief history of America? And how many ways do we try and live with this? The ones who come back don't want the attention. They already feel guilty that they came back and their buddies didn't. That's why we honor the buddies today.

But how do you memorialize so many who died such horrible deaths for reasons that often amount to nothing more than the pride and arrogance of a few powerful men? You try and remember why they did it.

I'm thinking of my own peers who died in a war no one understood by reason of the number on their draft card. My name could just as easily be on that granite wall in Washington, but for a student ministerial deferment. They died for their country at a time when many in their country were spitting on their graves.

They didn't deserve that. They were not warmongers. They were just doing their duty. Their number was up. They were high school football players and neighborhood cut-ups that answered the call. They did what a nation asked them to do, even when they didn't know why. They took the bullet for everyone who didn't go, and like Able, their blood cries out from the ground.

Normandy's beaches are quiet now. Children laugh and play in the sand. Warm breezes blow. The sea has swallowed up its dead long ago, and the sands have washed away the memory, except for today. Today we try to remember.

War is hell and has taken way too many young men and women in the prime of their life. We pray that in God's mercy, heaven has them now.

I miss you, Grampa. And I wish I'd had the chance to talk to you about your service in the Pacific. I hope where you've ended up now helps you forget the hell of it all.

Well, today's the day ... yet another check-mark in my bizarre and stressful calendar for the past couple of months. At then end of the night I'll be able to add it to my list of accomplishments for the week, which already include (1)Finish Bible study facilitation for the year, (2)Help Munchkin survive ninth grade, (2)End extra dance practices on Thursday nights and Saturday mornings/afternoons. But does this mean my calendar magically empties? NO. Of course not! Trips, summer camps, riding lessons, visits ... Well, if nothing else, I'm never bored.

Now I'm going to impale marinated chicken and mushrooms on skewers. What a life I lead!

The cat is licking the desk.

o_O

On the fire for tonight: NOTHING.

Dress rehearsal went very well! Though I had a moment of panic in between completing Rhythm of the Laila and moving on to Sidi Mansour; I changed into my costume and realized I had FORGOTTEN THE DANCE. But as soon as the music started, I kicked back into gear, thank goodness! Oh, and the Special Guest Dancer is Tribal/Burlesque. This should prove interesting!

I have gotten addicted to Urban Decay makeup. Oops.

My laptop still isn't here. Darn.

The cat is now lounging against the keyboard and keeps JUg;khg,'d()_y6. Stupid cat.

I shall now watch "Whose Line" and contemplate whom I shall marry in my dream tonight. Hopefully not Kathy Kinney; that would be ... no. Just ... no.

I have very little to say, except that I got up way too early on a Saturday morning when I didn't need to.

I gate-crashed a party last night ... Warnerharmer and Big Joker were bringing the kids out for sushi to meet up with some friends for a birthday, and I hobbled along to help with the Little Miss and Nesterino (long, drawn-out grown-up dinners are not their "scene"). It was very enjoyable - the food and company were good, and it was nice being out and not a "mom" for a change.

Yeah, yeah, I know; in three years she'll be out of the house and I'll be hugging White Bunny and sobbing, "Where did my baby go?!" Maybe by then I'll have picked up a rich sugar daddy who will whisk me off to Italy after her graduation and spend his time lavishing me with gifts and gelato while we stroll down the Spanish Steps. Riiiiiiiight ... if Hypothetical Sugar Daddy only takes me to Rome, he is in so much trouble. And if HSD even suggests Pisa, I'm stealing his vintage 1947 MG TC Roadster and running off with the pool boy.

Has anyone ever heard the band Fair to Midland? The Munchkin got me on to them - kind of remind me of Asia, with a little dark metal thrown in there. Me likees. I also want to gank the new Dashboard Confessional. Oooh, I'm so EMO!!!! (dyes and spikes hair while wearing raccoon eye makeup and skinny jeans that make butt look like an ice cream cone)

I need a bigger iPod ... Barn Hobbit got a purple 8gb. I have iPod envy.

OK, I need to start chopping chicken and veggies for the soulvaki ... and putting more insta-tan on my bod. I hate the way this stuff smells!

I had another married-to-Colin dream last night. I can understand my dreaming about the WLiiA guys, but Colin? Why can't my subconscious pair me with one of the cute ones, like Chip or Jeff?

A friend at church, who's been divorced for about 10 years, told me at the beginning of this process that she called her divorce experience "the summer of the dog." Apparently in the middle of it all, she processed and settled herself by sitting in her back yard with gin-and-tonics and cigarettes, throwing the ball for her dog over and over. I shall call this past year "the year of Whose Line." When I'm overwhelmed, scared, sad, angry, whatever, I go to YouTube, search for WLiiA stuff, and just turn my brain off. I don't know if it helps or not, but it sure gives me interesting matrimonial dreams.

I had the Little Miss, Nesterino, and Copper Top this morning. What chaos! But it was kind of fun, too ...a four-year-old girl, a two-year old boy and a one-year-old boy. And I might get another part-time two-year-old next week! CT's mom's sister has a couple of coworkers who need childcare for their son a few days a week, and Jan gave me a glowing recommendation.

Copper Top is getting really cute. He calls me Oropher House, calls anything he might run into a "bonkyourhead," and says "bless you, Oropher House!" whenever I sneeze or cough. He and the Little Miss played "nap" today - got out a blanket and all the pillows, lay down for thirty seconds, then informed me they didn't have to nap this afternoon because they'd already taken care of it. Riiiight ...

So, [info]warnerharmer took her kiddos home, I put Copper Top down, had some lunch, tried to catch up on Facebook (a futile task), and cleaned the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. I have a headache - I can't decide if it's lack-of-caffeine, front-moving-through, or just the aftereffects of having three children under the age of five in my living room for four hours.

Just sitting here, I have seen brown thrashers, a red-throated sapsucker, blue jays, male and female cardinals, a male bluebird (gorgeous!), one of the nesting pairs of rufus-sided towhees, a tufted titmouse (go ahead and giggle; I always do), and a zillion squirrels, cursing me for using a squirrel-proof feeder. But they're feasting on stale bread and eyeing my cat cautiously, so I'm not overly concerned.

Tomorrow, I bring the Munchkin up to the barn to do stalls, then it's off to Nicola's for our staging at eleven. That will probably take most of the day! Home, fix the soulvaki, sleep, up, church, soulvaki at Warnerharmer's, and then ... the Spring Shimmy! I'm so nervous. I simply can't do headslides, and the floor work is complicated by the mermaid skirts we have to wear. But the Sidi Mansour costumes are adorable! Black satin harem pants with hot pink flares, a matching tie-top, and a black coin sash!

Today is the last day of school. FINALLY. What a craptastic year. Oh, and I changed the SysAdmin name on my computer to "dorkwad." Just in case.

Don't read if you don't like bad language

I contemplated not posting the events of yesterday, but what the hell. It happened, and although it doesn't exactly show me up in the best of lights, so what? I think it's only fair. And besides, relating it is cathartic.

Night before last, I lost my temper during a snarky little email war that the Dumpster and I were having. But in October, when we had our first major, big-time blow-out, I decided I'd better put some Anger Management techniques into practice. It's not that I don't deserve to be angry; it's just that it is not wise to let one's anger control one's reactions. So I started the writing method - cranking out letters/paragraphs/emails filled with bitter, furious, sarcastic, cruel thoughts, lashing out with bad language and insults, letting all the pent-up frustration get the better of me. I wrote and saved to the Drafts folder about six or seven of these poisonous epistles, being very careful each time to save it to Drafts, and not hit "send"! Those of you who have read my fiction know I can be quite a wordsmith, and I poured a lot of my verbal talents into these vitriolic emails. Then I went to bed; the second half of the process is to go to sleep, having purged the crap; in the morning the emails are re-read, deleted, and one is then calm enough to proceed logically and gently.

Well.

I brought the Munchkin to the barn early in the morning for her dressage clinic, and my drive back was spent in prayer and contemplation how to reverse the bitter and caustic trend of our communication so that we could at least speak civilly to each other. I was getting tired of short, snippy emails, and was thinking about simply calling him and inviting him out for coffee so we could hash things out and relieve some of the awkwardness. So I was actually pleased when I pulled in the driveway and saw that he was there, getting ready to mow the lawn. I hopped out and greeted him, saying I was glad to see him; he looked at me with the hollowest, emptiest expression on his face I have seen EVER, and said:

"That was quite an email you sent me this morning. Don't worry, I'm going to just mow the lawn and then get the fuck out of your life."

I cannot describe how horrified I was by this. I knew I hadn't sent any of those emails ... I KNEW it. I had never intended to let him, or anyone else for that matter, read ANY of them. I stammered something out - that I hadn't sent them, I didn't know how it happened, he was not intended to read them - but he turned his back on me and said nothing.

I'm not even sure how I got back into the house. My knees felt like Jell-O and I could feel my blood pressure spiking (yes, on Lisinopril). I called the only person I felt would be able to understand, sympathise with both parties, and keep me from popping an artery ... [info]susubug.

Let me just tell every single one of you that she is the most impartial, funny, wise, and careful person I think I have ever met in my entire life. I postulate she might be the most impartial, funny, wise and careful person in the state of Georgia, if not the entire southeast. She took up the reins of my flat spin and controlled it, speaking soothingly to me while I checked my email. Oddly enough - and this is still kind of freaking me out - ALL THE EMAILS WERE STILL IN THE DRAFTS FOLDER. And NONE of the emails were in the Sent Folder. NONE. So I had no idea which of those caustic loads of crap he'd actually received.

I have no idea how long we were on the phone, but Susu, I owe you so big, I'll be in your debt past my death-bed and well into Purgatory - not heaven, because at the moment I'm pretty sure there's some penance to do! - so I'll polish your harp and preen your wings and give your halo a good buffing for the next millenium or so, 'kay?

I wrote him a note, apologizing for the email and trying to explain that I had never intended him to actually receive it. I also gave him the $600 I had saved to pay for half of the laptop (which was one of the original things we'd been fighting about). Then I put the note and envelope of money in his truck, and left.

I sobbed all the way to dance practice at Esmeray's house. I managed to pull myself together for the next couple of hours, but cried all the way home, too.

He was not there ... but had left a note scratched on the back of my note, saying he was sorry how things had turned out, he was glad he'd gotten to hear what was really on my mind, and he didn't want the money. The envelope was there, under a coffee mug full of four-leaf clovers. When we were dating and first married, he used to pick them for me ... he has this knack of seeing them hidden amongst all the three-leaf ones; he'd be strolling along, bend down, pick one, and give it to me with a smile.

Needless to say, I sobbed my way through my shower, too.

I picked up the Munchkin and Barn Hobbit, they got cleaned up, and I took them to the mall in Buford to shop and to see Star Trek: The IMAX Experience at the late showing. And Susubug, bless her congested heart, called just to make sure I was okay.

The Munchkin and I got our color-coordinated, matching belly button bling for the dance next weekend; both she and Barn Hobbit got new purses; I bought them funky and colorful new riding socks, and we ate gross Mall Food and saw the movie. (I loved it, but I understand why hard-core Trekkies hate it!) We learned on the way home that Barn Hobbit had NEVER SEEN A STAR TREK EPISODE OR MOVIE IN HER LIFE OMG, so while I went to bed ,they sat up and watched First Contact.

Let me just say, here and now, that the past nine months have been some of the most difficult I have ever experienced, bar none. But with friends like Susubug, I can get through this. I am so thankful for you all.

That said, here's some Food Porn.

For lunch today: Italian Wedding soup with tiny meatballs, oven-roasted baby zucchini stuffed with gorgonzola and fresh basil, and whatever else people are bringing ... I hope church runs late, as we've actually got someone coming to see the house this morning.

I am exhausted.

Having Dee's family for dinner tonight, which we've done - oh, hundreds of times in the past nine years! So I'm setting the table, and I set it for six.

It SUCKS that I'm still in the we're-a-family-of-three mode.

It's set for five now.

HoKAY.

Let's try this again, shall we?

Friday night, show prep. Everything went very well ... I think we're actually getting the hang of this! We were done at nine pm, instead of the eleven thirty pm we're used to; at one point in the evening, Mo and I looked at each other with puzzled looks on our faces and said, "What's missing here? ... oh yeah, the panic!"

Saturday's show went pretty well - there was some drama that Mo and I had to deal with, but for the most part, "them Statham girls" did very well!






We went out with Mo and her family for Mexican afterwards, and ended up sitting chewing the fat until ten. Needless to say, the Munchkin and I were pretty tired the next day!

Sunday, the Munchkin and I finally worked up our choreography. I will NEVER leave it that late again. We looked cute, and the dance was adorable, but we kept forgetting stuff!


Kiraz and Barn Hobbit, dancing to the Turtles' "Happy Together":


And us, dancing to Hellogoodbye's "Touchdown Turnaround":




We opted out of the repeated backbends, and substituted omis and maias. My hips still hurt!

Anyway. We survived ... AND I got the most AWESOME Mother's Day gifts! Little Miss gave me a portable iPod player, Mom got me riding gloves, and the Munchkin got me this:


I have the most awesome friends and family in the freaking UNIVERSE.

Okay, so Copper Top is down for a nap, and I'm waiting on Dee's BIL to bring over and hang some mirrors in the basement. I'm paying him with lasagne, salad, and brownies. A man's heart is through his stomach!

Hokay.

Yesterday was a "day off." (Right!) Though I did manage to score lunch with [info]susubug and a friend! I also made it to the farmer's market, where I dug up some fixin's for Big Joker to make coconut chicken soup for Sunday. I was having a terrible time finding kafir leaves, lemon grass, thyme, and celery ... so I figured, well, that's the breaks; if BHFM doesn't have it, chances are you don't really need it anyway ... but when I was getting nam pla in the Thai aisle, this guy with a name badge walks by and says, "Are you finding everything, ma'am?" I cheerfully told him, no, not really; he took immediate interest and said he would personally find me every item I was missing! He walked me back to the produce department, introduced me to the produce manager, and sent a bunch of guys scurrying around to get me what I wanted.

I guess it helps to have a nice rack, and look good in heels. You get such excellent customer service.

Anyway. Gotta run!

Just changed his diaper. That's what it was, all right!

Rain, rain, go away; come again ... when we're not at the barn.

On the other hand, the grass and trees are all nice 'n' green.

Got my pix from T2Digital! Now I need to pick poses and sizes ... if anyone wants to see them, let me know, and I'll email you the link.

Nesterino's still napping; Copper Top just finished lunch (acorn squash and a turkey meatball) ... he's got an, erm, interesting look on his face; I think he's "expressing himself." Better check on that!

Last night I set up the new cable box ALL BY MYSELF. Hooray for HD! And for being able to figure it out on my own. Yay!

Doop dee doop dee dooo ....

It's amazing how, when you add up the drive to Beaver Spring, the drive from ADF to BS, loading up horses, driving them back to ADF, a double hunter/jumper lesson, driving back to BS, unloading horses and tack, you're stuck at home at 4:30 still waiting for the kids to call.

On the other hand, had a chance to color my hair. It's DARK. I like it!

I went to Dekalb Co. Farmer's Market today after dance practice. That's one of the only "grocery stores" I feel comfortable shopping in, wearing my harem pants and blue caftan. No one even gave me a second look!

Tonight: Dinner with Dee! I'm bringing insalata caprese, baguettes, olives nicoise, roasted red bell pepper with garlic and basil, and wine (white and red, since I don't know what the main course is). Tomorrow, dinner here ... turkey sausage lasagne with, um, whatever and Mom decide to bring.

The Munchkin and I worked on our Mother's Day choreography last night. We've got everything pretty much hammered out, now we have to practice it. It's FAST. Why on earth did we pick an electronica song?! There's perfectly good Tarkan!

Speaking of ...



He's just too cute.

OK ... I guess I'll go do something else now ...

*phew*

Had Copper Top and Nesterino this morning; fortunately both were greatly improved over the past few days ... I refuse to make the lunch-table a battlefield. If they don't want to eat, they can get down. They won't starve. Sheesh!

Anyway ... both boys had a boatload of noodles, cheese, vegetables, fruit, Greek yogurt, oatmeal, blah blah blah, got cleaned up, played nicely together so I could get my kitchen cleaned up, and after warnerharmer picked up Nesterino, I put CT down and mopped all the floors, including the patio, which was still covered in the detritus of Tree Sex. Picked up toys ... washed dishes ... rinsed mops, put bucket away (sorry, lolrus) and am now chatting with susubug, who is clamoring for Food Porn. SO!

Last night at dinner:

Romaine salad with grated carrot and fresh tomato, fricasee of chicken breast with cream gravy and steamed parsley dumplings, sweet onion and button mushrooms fried in butter with fresh oregano and red salt. For dessert: Candy and Âya! We practiced "Rhythm of the Laila" with Kiraz and Barn Hobbit until about ten ... then the Munchkin and I drilled Mercutio's "Queen Mab" soliloquy from Romeo and Juliet, which she is presenting in front of her Lit class today. We were up until twelve thirty ... then awake at six to drill some more. I hope she got it!

Not sure what to do for dinner tonight. Maybe I should check the basement freezer ... I tend to forget what I've put down there.

When CT leaves, I'm replacing the screens on the Munchkin's and my bedroom windows. I refuse to pay $300/month to air condition the house, but we can't cool our rooms off without inviting Captain Caterpillar and his Bug Brigade. I killed a bee in my room last night. A BEE. So the screens go back on! Sorry, BP; it's not like the windows are gorgeous anyway ... adding or subtracting screenage hasn't helped or hindered the sale of the house so far.

Only one week to work up the choreography for Hellogoodbye's "Touchdown Turnaround." Yeek!

I decided to do the Munchkin a favor yesterday, and do her laundry for her. Holy crap. Four loads. She has more clothes than I do, and that's really saying something!

OK ... off to figure out what to make for dinner.