Sadly, I have an affair of state to go to . . . which I will write about later when it is not so fresh. But Princess, you doubted that I would have one. Too bad this is a very sad occasion, but thank goodness I bought that wig and don't have to try to dye my hair to its normal color tonight.
However, my family had to move an apartment of furniture today. My brother kept saying that we could put the giant mirror that we had to move in "the back of the truck", which to me, meant the bed of the truck. And I kept arguing with him, because I didn't want to break the mirror and quite honestly, it wasn't going to make it in the bed of the truck with the two dressers and the bed we were moving. Finally, he gave me the tone of "just drop it" and I did. He was getting pissed at my big sisterly advice. Or so I thought.
We moved all the really heavy stuff first.
As we went in to get another load, I noticed that the giant truck of lease cheapness (my father's folly) (which to his credit was very useful today) had a full backseat . . . and that it was mostly empty. And I hatched this great idea.
"Hey, Dave . . . we can just put the mirror in the back of the truck."
"That's what I've been telling you for the last hour . . ."
"But the backseat of the truck. That way, it won't get broken."
"Um. Yeah. I know. That's what I've been sayin. Doofus."
"Oh, you meant that back of the truck?"
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
But The Grocery Kid Just . . .
I left the house today. To buy buttons and coffee and a cd I was longing for . . .
I ran into someone from my belly dancing class at Starbucks, meaning there was smiling and chit-chatting. And we all know how much I like that. And then I had to "unknit" the shawl I brought to work on while I drank the coffee . . . because my sticky note is unsticky. And yet, it was okay.
At Habermans, I figured I could find buttons for eyes in the bargain bin . . . but then I got distracted by the buttons behind the counter. That you have to ask to touch. And I picked out a bunch, because I couldn't decide what would look better. And when I got to the register, the total came to $24.95. Who can spend $24.95 on sock monkey eyes? Granted, I have enough for four or five monkeys . . . but the damn socks only cost $2.99. But they are beautiful eyes. So that was okay.
So I went to Record Time and Ingrid Michaelson was not in the "M"s in the indie section. And that was annoying. To whole point was to buy the independent label music at the independent record store. And I was starting to think that perhaps I should give in to itunes, instead of my archaic idea that I have to touch it. But then I found her in the "I"s. And the music is really good. So that was okay.
And then I went to the arty gift shop on Nine Mile, that I never remember the name of, and I almost bought a t-shirt that read "Knitters are Knotty" but decided that I really didn't like brown and that it would have been better if it actually said "Naughty". But I talked the clerk into applying for an internship at "Bitch" (the magazine). Told her that she should go for it . . . that she could certainly just call them and they would give her an internship. Opportunity favors the bold. She seemed convinced. And that was okay.
Then went to T.J.'s to get some food. (Just spilled some wild mushroom quesadilla on my skirt.) Bought three bottles of wine. Couldn't find the no raisin trail mix because they put it on the bottom shelf. They like my hair. Oh, and almost killed one of the grocery clerks because she tripped over my basket. But the boy who rang my groceries very earnestly asked for my i.d. to buy the wine. And I love that . . . very much.
And as I ripped the new found CD to itunes . . . a new category appeared in the "genre" section. "Easy Listening". I just bought something that reads easy listening. And that is sooooo not okay.
I ran into someone from my belly dancing class at Starbucks, meaning there was smiling and chit-chatting. And we all know how much I like that. And then I had to "unknit" the shawl I brought to work on while I drank the coffee . . . because my sticky note is unsticky. And yet, it was okay.
At Habermans, I figured I could find buttons for eyes in the bargain bin . . . but then I got distracted by the buttons behind the counter. That you have to ask to touch. And I picked out a bunch, because I couldn't decide what would look better. And when I got to the register, the total came to $24.95. Who can spend $24.95 on sock monkey eyes? Granted, I have enough for four or five monkeys . . . but the damn socks only cost $2.99. But they are beautiful eyes. So that was okay.
So I went to Record Time and Ingrid Michaelson was not in the "M"s in the indie section. And that was annoying. To whole point was to buy the independent label music at the independent record store. And I was starting to think that perhaps I should give in to itunes, instead of my archaic idea that I have to touch it. But then I found her in the "I"s. And the music is really good. So that was okay.
And then I went to the arty gift shop on Nine Mile, that I never remember the name of, and I almost bought a t-shirt that read "Knitters are Knotty" but decided that I really didn't like brown and that it would have been better if it actually said "Naughty". But I talked the clerk into applying for an internship at "Bitch" (the magazine). Told her that she should go for it . . . that she could certainly just call them and they would give her an internship. Opportunity favors the bold. She seemed convinced. And that was okay.
Then went to T.J.'s to get some food. (Just spilled some wild mushroom quesadilla on my skirt.) Bought three bottles of wine. Couldn't find the no raisin trail mix because they put it on the bottom shelf. They like my hair. Oh, and almost killed one of the grocery clerks because she tripped over my basket. But the boy who rang my groceries very earnestly asked for my i.d. to buy the wine. And I love that . . . very much.
And as I ripped the new found CD to itunes . . . a new category appeared in the "genre" section. "Easy Listening". I just bought something that reads easy listening. And that is sooooo not okay.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Orange Devil Sock Monkey
So I have moved on from hats to monkeys.
I am sewing my first sock monkey tonight . . . have his body done, just have to do the bits. You know, ears, arms, tail. All the things you do with the second sock.
I don't have any eyes, so that may have to wait for tomorrow. I don't know where to buy buttons at 1 a.m..
As this is my first sock monkey, I am sewing him completely by hand. That and I don't know how to work my grandmother's sewing machine that is sitting in my dining room (another damn thing in my dining room). The sewing machine would be way quicker, so I will have to figure out how to thread it. (That's what the internet is for, right?) And have some boy move it to the place that it could live. (Basement? Office? Living room temporarily?)
There is this group called The Sock Monkey Ministry . . . and although they are actually aligned with Christianity (I thought they were just a group of nice people. Which I suppose, is what some Christian groups are about.) AND although there doesn't seem to be any way to donate actual monkeys . . . if I get good at it perhaps I will send them some. Plus, I'm thinking of all the people in my life that really need sock monkeys. And I can think of more than a few.
So sock monkeys it is for the next couple of days. After all, how many hats does one need (I finished three this week . . . meaning two of you are getting hats. Soon. To get them out of my house. They are like tribbles.) If you have a color request, please comment. I will try to find socks to match the decor. Oh, and there are no actual sock monkey socks being purchased . . . I like to wear mine and will not give them up. They are really good socks. So if you want a traditional sock monkey, the socks are available on the internet . . . buy them and I'll sew one up for you. I find hunting for non-traditional socks much more fun.
Speaking of sock hunting . . . the men's sock department at Target sucks. I don't know how men find socks. Unless they just wear black all the time (probably for the best, in most cases).
And shopping for socks in the summer is a bit challenging. I found some nice bright argyle and some stripes, but would have liked to have a better color selection. But then again, I'm not really going to spend more than . . . say. . . three bucks for socks that I'm going to cut up. So if anyone sees some orange or yellow, especially solid, socks, let me know. D. wants an orange sock monkey. With devil horns.
Yeah, don't know what's up with the orange devil sock monkey . . . but it will be created as soon as I find some orange socks. I think he should be named LeRoy.
I am sewing my first sock monkey tonight . . . have his body done, just have to do the bits. You know, ears, arms, tail. All the things you do with the second sock.
I don't have any eyes, so that may have to wait for tomorrow. I don't know where to buy buttons at 1 a.m..
As this is my first sock monkey, I am sewing him completely by hand. That and I don't know how to work my grandmother's sewing machine that is sitting in my dining room (another damn thing in my dining room). The sewing machine would be way quicker, so I will have to figure out how to thread it. (That's what the internet is for, right?) And have some boy move it to the place that it could live. (Basement? Office? Living room temporarily?)
There is this group called The Sock Monkey Ministry . . . and although they are actually aligned with Christianity (I thought they were just a group of nice people. Which I suppose, is what some Christian groups are about.) AND although there doesn't seem to be any way to donate actual monkeys . . . if I get good at it perhaps I will send them some. Plus, I'm thinking of all the people in my life that really need sock monkeys. And I can think of more than a few.
So sock monkeys it is for the next couple of days. After all, how many hats does one need (I finished three this week . . . meaning two of you are getting hats. Soon. To get them out of my house. They are like tribbles.) If you have a color request, please comment. I will try to find socks to match the decor. Oh, and there are no actual sock monkey socks being purchased . . . I like to wear mine and will not give them up. They are really good socks. So if you want a traditional sock monkey, the socks are available on the internet . . . buy them and I'll sew one up for you. I find hunting for non-traditional socks much more fun.
Speaking of sock hunting . . . the men's sock department at Target sucks. I don't know how men find socks. Unless they just wear black all the time (probably for the best, in most cases).
And shopping for socks in the summer is a bit challenging. I found some nice bright argyle and some stripes, but would have liked to have a better color selection. But then again, I'm not really going to spend more than . . . say. . . three bucks for socks that I'm going to cut up. So if anyone sees some orange or yellow, especially solid, socks, let me know. D. wants an orange sock monkey. With devil horns.
Yeah, don't know what's up with the orange devil sock monkey . . . but it will be created as soon as I find some orange socks. I think he should be named LeRoy.
Yeah, Well Maybe It Does . . .
. . . look like a dead squirrel, dyed black, tied to the top of my head. Maybe.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
And That's a Good Thing . . .
Not that Martha Stewart would endorse this . . .
Famous Dave's has Guinness for a dollar on Wednesday nights. That's ONE dollar. Cheaper than iced tea. And that, folks, is a really good thing.
Famous Dave's has Guinness for a dollar on Wednesday nights. That's ONE dollar. Cheaper than iced tea. And that, folks, is a really good thing.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Correction
The cartoon is a creation of Disney . . . trying to benefit from the Anime trend. So I'm not even a live version of real anime, just Disneyifed anime. Like cooked sushi. (okay, in reading the wiki, maybe Cartoon Network . . . which may or may not be cooler)
According to D., the character is soooo me:
Yumi (pronounced /ˈumi/) is depicted as a cynical, sarcastic punk rocker with purple hair and eyes and is dressed in a heavy metal/grunge/goth style with studded necklaces and bracelets, a light purple T-shirt with a skull that make the same expressions as she does, a black miniskirt over purple bike shorts, and black army boots.
Now D., I don't wear black army boots anymore . . . closest I've come is green Doc Martens and that's only in the winter. I'll give you skully shirts, cynical and sarcastic though.
So really, I look like a cartoon Disney punk character (Disney and punk in the same sentence. Yay.) . . . which is really just Disney's attempt to cash-in on Japanese culture (and a weird thing that is . . . two words . . . Hello Kitty). Great. Again, exactly what I was going for . . .
Oh, and PuffyAmiYumi is a Japanese pop/rock group. One of their songs is titled "Destruction Pancake" . . . but there are also titles like "Go Baby Power Now".
Yeah, Hello Kitty.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Because I LOVE Anime
According to my brother . . . I look like this. Evidently, there is a purple-headed one (Yumi).
And Japanese cartoon character was exactly what I was going for . . .
And Japanese cartoon character was exactly what I was going for . . .
Weaving
You wonder why it all happens.
Or maybe I just wonder . . . why it all happens.
Connections that I make. People that I feel for.
And I'd like to think that it is for a reason . . . that it all is for a reason.
Maybe a reason that I don't see.
I explain the Greek idea of the fates to the ninth graders every year . . . and wonder what the tapestry has in store for me . . . why it is, what it is. And I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't trade. I don't regret. But sometimes . . . just sometimes . . . after a couple of glasses of wine, usually . . . I wonder why.
Or maybe I just wonder . . . why it all happens.
Connections that I make. People that I feel for.
And I'd like to think that it is for a reason . . . that it all is for a reason.
Maybe a reason that I don't see.
I explain the Greek idea of the fates to the ninth graders every year . . . and wonder what the tapestry has in store for me . . . why it is, what it is. And I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't trade. I don't regret. But sometimes . . . just sometimes . . . after a couple of glasses of wine, usually . . . I wonder why.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Bitten
The change has occurred, despite all the measures taken . . . the classes, the projects.
I went to bed at 4:37 a.m.. I probably could have made it to sunrise, but it burns the flesh so . . .
Vampire time has arrived.
To my credit, I did finish three knitting projects and am 23 inches into a 60 inch shawl. But this is way too early for the change. It is hard to interact with people on vampire time. Unless, of course, they are on vampire time also. And I wanted to hold out until July, at least. So maybe I'll pull an all-nighter and get back on day schedule.
And some of you are asking why? Why do you need to be with the daylighters? I mean Meijer is open 24/7. Why shouldn't I go with my natural circadian rhythm?
Because I don't know anyone that works third shift . . . or any other vampire-time teachers . . . so the lifestyle is very isolating. And think about who is at Meijer at 4 a.m. (including me, if you don't know me). Yuck. Plus "Daysleeper" by R.E.M. plays in my head a lot. And that isn't pleasant at all.
Sigh. Maybe I'll have to get a job.
I went to bed at 4:37 a.m.. I probably could have made it to sunrise, but it burns the flesh so . . .
Vampire time has arrived.
To my credit, I did finish three knitting projects and am 23 inches into a 60 inch shawl. But this is way too early for the change. It is hard to interact with people on vampire time. Unless, of course, they are on vampire time also. And I wanted to hold out until July, at least. So maybe I'll pull an all-nighter and get back on day schedule.
And some of you are asking why? Why do you need to be with the daylighters? I mean Meijer is open 24/7. Why shouldn't I go with my natural circadian rhythm?
Because I don't know anyone that works third shift . . . or any other vampire-time teachers . . . so the lifestyle is very isolating. And think about who is at Meijer at 4 a.m. (including me, if you don't know me). Yuck. Plus "Daysleeper" by R.E.M. plays in my head a lot. And that isn't pleasant at all.
Sigh. Maybe I'll have to get a job.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Quotes from Last Evening
(sigh) "So it looks like a wig?"
"Um. No. But it doesn't look like you. At all."
"So it looks like a wig?"
"Well. It looks like a wig on you . . . but it's all one color. You never have hair that's all one color."
(sigh) "So it looks like a wig?"
"I just don't think I've seen you with such normal hair . . . "
AND . . .
Drunk blonde teenager at 7-Eleven, 2:34 a.m.:
"Whoa. Your hair is BLUE."
"Um. No. But it doesn't look like you. At all."
"So it looks like a wig?"
"Well. It looks like a wig on you . . . but it's all one color. You never have hair that's all one color."
(sigh) "So it looks like a wig?"
"I just don't think I've seen you with such normal hair . . . "
AND . . .
Drunk blonde teenager at 7-Eleven, 2:34 a.m.:
"Whoa. Your hair is BLUE."
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Summer Day Three
That whole idea that I was going to go into work? Yeah . . . I so haven't been into work.
Yesterday, after Pilate's (which kicked my ass), I went wig shopping.
And where does your everyday suburban white girl with blue hair go to buy a wig? Northland mall, of course . . . same place that she goes to buy furniture. What used to be Marshall Fields closeout furniture is on the third floor . . . stacks and stacks of scratch-and-dent furniture . . . marked down in a sorta Dutch auction style. And there is Lee Beauty Supply . . . with it's aisles of hair.
Lee Beauty Supply is between the Target and what is now Macy's. I stumbled upon it when I decided to figure out how to walk the maze to the Target, instead of driving the outside maze of Northland. Lee Beauty Supply had very earnest, but hilarious, commercials on cable about all my hair needs, so I decided to check it out. And I found the aisles of hair . . . and the wig room.
While I find the bags of hair fascinating . . . I don't need extensions. And this was the first time I seriously shopped in the wig room. There are signs on neon paper stating "Please wear wig cap and ask for assistance before trying on wigs" and well, I have blue hair, so assistance found me.
So you pick out your wigs and they put pantyhose on your head. Amazing how soccer mom I can look with a brown bob. After trying on several, I went with a longish black bob . . . made of 100% human hair in China. I was really shooting for synthetic . . . but the black bob looked the best. And according to the wig stylist, I can curl it and stuff. Made me very sad that I could buy someone's head of hair and a Styrofoam head for under $50. Plus all the sewing it to a cap and all. I really would have paid more.
So on summer day three, I bought new hair. And now that I have a "wig stylist" I may go buy more instead of dyeing my hair. Turns out that wigs are way cheaper. (no, they didn't have a blue one) I feel so Sydney Bristow.
Yesterday, after Pilate's (which kicked my ass), I went wig shopping.
And where does your everyday suburban white girl with blue hair go to buy a wig? Northland mall, of course . . . same place that she goes to buy furniture. What used to be Marshall Fields closeout furniture is on the third floor . . . stacks and stacks of scratch-and-dent furniture . . . marked down in a sorta Dutch auction style. And there is Lee Beauty Supply . . . with it's aisles of hair.
Lee Beauty Supply is between the Target and what is now Macy's. I stumbled upon it when I decided to figure out how to walk the maze to the Target, instead of driving the outside maze of Northland. Lee Beauty Supply had very earnest, but hilarious, commercials on cable about all my hair needs, so I decided to check it out. And I found the aisles of hair . . . and the wig room.
While I find the bags of hair fascinating . . . I don't need extensions. And this was the first time I seriously shopped in the wig room. There are signs on neon paper stating "Please wear wig cap and ask for assistance before trying on wigs" and well, I have blue hair, so assistance found me.
So you pick out your wigs and they put pantyhose on your head. Amazing how soccer mom I can look with a brown bob. After trying on several, I went with a longish black bob . . . made of 100% human hair in China. I was really shooting for synthetic . . . but the black bob looked the best. And according to the wig stylist, I can curl it and stuff. Made me very sad that I could buy someone's head of hair and a Styrofoam head for under $50. Plus all the sewing it to a cap and all. I really would have paid more.
So on summer day three, I bought new hair. And now that I have a "wig stylist" I may go buy more instead of dyeing my hair. Turns out that wigs are way cheaper. (no, they didn't have a blue one) I feel so Sydney Bristow.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Dining Room Plan
Okay, so the plan is . . . to deal with the dining room. Cause then there could be shopping . . . for dining room furniture.
So I'm on step one: finish stripping parent's "stereo cabinet". I'm taking a break because the new stripper keeps burning through the gloves. Which is a good sign. At least I think it's a good sign. Evidently, there is no product listing on the web but my brother just sent me the skin exposure warnings --
This product is a skin irritant. Product may be absorbed through skin. May cause irritation; defatting; drying of skin; and dermatitis. May cause and increase the severity of symptoms listed under inhalation
And according to D. "defatting" is not desirable. So I need to find thicker gloves. Which I have. Somewhere.
So after I strip the stereo cabinet (which I think was Aunt Hazel's buffet or china cabinet in another life), I have to decide if I want to stain it . . . or paint it. Have the painting plan in my head . . . saw it at a store in Scottsdale. You put on four layers of different color paint and then sand things off in spots. But the buffet has inlay . . . so might not paint it. Anyhow, have to get it to a state in which I can move it to the living room, so it can live there for a while. Then will move everything else out of the dining room (tools, more tools, random shit, shop vac, electrical whoseits and whatsits) so I can wash the walls twice. And then paint.
I didn't start this project because I had this vision that I was going to put up wainscotting to eye level and then have a shelf around the room . . . and well, that's hard. It's a lot of pieces and wood and thinking. So I think I'll just paint the damn room, so I can use it and invite people over. Plus, I think I have a tiny roof leak . . . so I have to repair the ceiling before it gets worse (and repair the roof too . . .) Crap, I need a bigger ladder.
So if I just get it painted, then I can go buy stuff at IKEA . . . like shelves . . . and a table . . . and maybe even some chairs. And then I can have dinner parties . . . with no food and lots of martinis. So off to go find some thicker gloves.
So I'm on step one: finish stripping parent's "stereo cabinet". I'm taking a break because the new stripper keeps burning through the gloves. Which is a good sign. At least I think it's a good sign. Evidently, there is no product listing on the web but my brother just sent me the skin exposure warnings --
This product is a skin irritant. Product may be absorbed through skin. May cause irritation; defatting; drying of skin; and dermatitis. May cause and increase the severity of symptoms listed under inhalation
And according to D. "defatting" is not desirable. So I need to find thicker gloves. Which I have. Somewhere.
So after I strip the stereo cabinet (which I think was Aunt Hazel's buffet or china cabinet in another life), I have to decide if I want to stain it . . . or paint it. Have the painting plan in my head . . . saw it at a store in Scottsdale. You put on four layers of different color paint and then sand things off in spots. But the buffet has inlay . . . so might not paint it. Anyhow, have to get it to a state in which I can move it to the living room, so it can live there for a while. Then will move everything else out of the dining room (tools, more tools, random shit, shop vac, electrical whoseits and whatsits) so I can wash the walls twice. And then paint.
I didn't start this project because I had this vision that I was going to put up wainscotting to eye level and then have a shelf around the room . . . and well, that's hard. It's a lot of pieces and wood and thinking. So I think I'll just paint the damn room, so I can use it and invite people over. Plus, I think I have a tiny roof leak . . . so I have to repair the ceiling before it gets worse (and repair the roof too . . .) Crap, I need a bigger ladder.
So if I just get it painted, then I can go buy stuff at IKEA . . . like shelves . . . and a table . . . and maybe even some chairs. And then I can have dinner parties . . . with no food and lots of martinis. So off to go find some thicker gloves.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Summer Day One
"Miss _______, that's the best thing to happen to your hair . . . EVER!" said the student who was waiting at the school for his ride. "I mean it. Best thing ever."
My hair is now on its third color in four days . . . and is almost the color I was originally shooting for, Grover blue.
Watched True Romance on the insistence that it was "the greatest movie ever" (a lot of evers today) and was up late. Woke up early and then managed to go back to bed. Redyed the hair in the late morning while watching season one of NCIS (on episode three). Managed to get everything together by 1 p.m. Outfit, shoes, makeup . . . and walked out into the 96 degree sauna. Drove to work. Assessed the mess. Decided not to do anything about the mess. Made a few phone calls and drove downtown.
My plan was to go to the Majestic Cafe for dinner. Class is at six . . . so I figured an early dinner (as no real lunch was consumed) and then maybe coffee and some toothpicks to hold my eyes open for class. The waiter was very attentive . . . but then again, I was the ONLY customer in the place . . . crowd at the Majestic does not start at 5 p.m. Cute little young one, who was very flirty. And then he presented me with what I can only assume was the "blue hair discount". So I tipped him well. May go back to see him again.
So no work . . . good outfit . . . dinner half off . . .
So far a very good day.
My hair is now on its third color in four days . . . and is almost the color I was originally shooting for, Grover blue.
Watched True Romance on the insistence that it was "the greatest movie ever" (a lot of evers today) and was up late. Woke up early and then managed to go back to bed. Redyed the hair in the late morning while watching season one of NCIS (on episode three). Managed to get everything together by 1 p.m. Outfit, shoes, makeup . . . and walked out into the 96 degree sauna. Drove to work. Assessed the mess. Decided not to do anything about the mess. Made a few phone calls and drove downtown.
My plan was to go to the Majestic Cafe for dinner. Class is at six . . . so I figured an early dinner (as no real lunch was consumed) and then maybe coffee and some toothpicks to hold my eyes open for class. The waiter was very attentive . . . but then again, I was the ONLY customer in the place . . . crowd at the Majestic does not start at 5 p.m. Cute little young one, who was very flirty. And then he presented me with what I can only assume was the "blue hair discount". So I tipped him well. May go back to see him again.
So no work . . . good outfit . . . dinner half off . . .
So far a very good day.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Summer List Part One
Go see:
MOCAD's Stuff: International Contemporary Art from the Collection of Burt Aaron -- turn in volunteer application while there
Cranbrook's HOT HOUSE: Expanding the Field of Fiber at Cranbrook, 1970-2007 -- bring DIA card to see if membership works
Ingmar Berman's Persona at the Royal Oak Library on Tuesday 6/19 -- free! Pay off libray fines.
Gore Gore Girls 6/29 at the Magic Stick . . . because it would be nice to see Eric again.
SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartet No. 8 in C minor on 6/28 -- some special thing the DSO is doing to attract young people.
Call Princess and see if she wants to Whitney Garden Party . . . if the Whitney is even doing that this year.
See where the bus goes . . .
Fix bike tire . . . maybe go get the thing tuned. Or figure it out on the internet.
Find Day Bed Cover
Paint something . . . and finish the damn cabinet . . . or throw it away
M2 on Wednesday . . . shopping
Now go clean the bathroom
MOCAD's Stuff: International Contemporary Art from the Collection of Burt Aaron -- turn in volunteer application while there
Cranbrook's HOT HOUSE: Expanding the Field of Fiber at Cranbrook, 1970-2007 -- bring DIA card to see if membership works
Ingmar Berman's Persona at the Royal Oak Library on Tuesday 6/19 -- free! Pay off libray fines.
Gore Gore Girls 6/29 at the Magic Stick . . . because it would be nice to see Eric again.
SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartet No. 8 in C minor on 6/28 -- some special thing the DSO is doing to attract young people.
Call Princess and see if she wants to Whitney Garden Party . . . if the Whitney is even doing that this year.
See where the bus goes . . .
Fix bike tire . . . maybe go get the thing tuned. Or figure it out on the internet.
Find Day Bed Cover
Paint something . . . and finish the damn cabinet . . . or throw it away
M2 on Wednesday . . . shopping
Now go clean the bathroom
Saturday, June 16, 2007
I Think It's a Bit Too Bright
"Can I touch it? Can I touch your hair?" the little voice said, with a toddler lisp.
"Sure. You can touch it."
Odd request, I thought, but certainly didn't hurt my hair. I leaned my head down to his reach and he quickly touched some hair on the top of my hair. His hand shot back and clasp his other. There was glee in his big brown eyes. A smile on his face. He walked over to his mother and sneered at his sister, as if he had won something. Like she had been afraid to ask and he had been brave enough.
Small children are fascinated when you have blue hair . . . perhaps it has something to do with clowns. (smile) Plus, I'm kinda dressed like a mom, but with punk rock hair.
So children . . . and transsexuals (the one waiting for the bus really liked my hair and asked all sorts of questions) . . . and random ladies driving in 1986 green Dodge Lancers (again with the questions, like they want the recipe) . . .
Although I think a man came out to "save" the dog I was petting outside of the Starbucks.
This phase may last less than the planned month. Interesting experiment in sociology though.
"Sure. You can touch it."
Odd request, I thought, but certainly didn't hurt my hair. I leaned my head down to his reach and he quickly touched some hair on the top of my hair. His hand shot back and clasp his other. There was glee in his big brown eyes. A smile on his face. He walked over to his mother and sneered at his sister, as if he had won something. Like she had been afraid to ask and he had been brave enough.
Small children are fascinated when you have blue hair . . . perhaps it has something to do with clowns. (smile) Plus, I'm kinda dressed like a mom, but with punk rock hair.
So children . . . and transsexuals (the one waiting for the bus really liked my hair and asked all sorts of questions) . . . and random ladies driving in 1986 green Dodge Lancers (again with the questions, like they want the recipe) . . .
Although I think a man came out to "save" the dog I was petting outside of the Starbucks.
This phase may last less than the planned month. Interesting experiment in sociology though.
C is for Cookie
A box of saran wrap and a lot of water and shampoo later . . .
It is better color blue. At least a blue that I can go out in public in (ah, the irony). Off to the Royal Oak Ceramic and Glass Fest.
. . . and I tried to sleep in, I really did, but only could get to 8:30. Maybe I've grown out of vampire time.
It is better color blue. At least a blue that I can go out in public in (ah, the irony). Off to the Royal Oak Ceramic and Glass Fest.
. . . and I tried to sleep in, I really did, but only could get to 8:30. Maybe I've grown out of vampire time.
Friday, June 15, 2007
My Pretty Pony
. . . or if Sea Monkeys had hair.
So today was the big day. Last day of school. Goin' to dye the hair blue. Yah.
Went out to a nice lunch. Browsed the paint chips at HD . . . always fun when you bring paint chips to your hair stylist.
And I arrived early, which J. pronounced as a good thing. And there was bleaching. And more bleaching. And cutting. And more cutting.
And then the blue was put on . . . and it was a beautiful sapphire hue. Brighter than I would like, but I could correct it easily at home. And there was heating and cooling. And washing.
End result? It really looks like the blue cotton candy that you get at a fair. So not the look I was going for . . . this is My Pretty Pony hair. Light turquoise. And J. was hyper-ventilating. And there was nothing she could do, something about waiting a week, so that my hair doesn't fall out. And I just figured I'd make a stop at Noir. But had to go to my parents first.
My hair is currently my paternal grandmother's favorite color. Let's see if they have a text color similar. And of course I have pictures, but I'm not showing them to you. Hopefully, all will be fixed tomorrow, with some gloves and saran wrap. And while at dinner (yes, my parents went out to dinner, in public, with my pretty pony hair), my father ran into a co-worker who had two little girls. They were fascinated . . . because I look like my pretty pony head . . . or it looks like sea monkey hair. I haven't determined which is the better description. My father muttered about having to explain at work.
To all of the people at work . . . this is not my father's fault. Really it's not. And in the scheme of things . . . I support myself, have a master's degree and a pretty good job. It's only hair.
And all I can do is laugh. I did go to a salon and ask for blue hair. And it's just hair. And maybe next week I'll dye it black. Because with my pretty pony hair, people have a tendency to stare. More than with the red. And I don't blame them . . . at all . . . but I am finding it slightly unnerving. Especially, at the Palace of Pork Products with my parents.
I'm sure it will be more Cookie Monster colored tomorrow.
So today was the big day. Last day of school. Goin' to dye the hair blue. Yah.
Went out to a nice lunch. Browsed the paint chips at HD . . . always fun when you bring paint chips to your hair stylist.
And I arrived early, which J. pronounced as a good thing. And there was bleaching. And more bleaching. And cutting. And more cutting.
And then the blue was put on . . . and it was a beautiful sapphire hue. Brighter than I would like, but I could correct it easily at home. And there was heating and cooling. And washing.
End result? It really looks like the blue cotton candy that you get at a fair. So not the look I was going for . . . this is My Pretty Pony hair. Light turquoise. And J. was hyper-ventilating. And there was nothing she could do, something about waiting a week, so that my hair doesn't fall out. And I just figured I'd make a stop at Noir. But had to go to my parents first.
My hair is currently my paternal grandmother's favorite color. Let's see if they have a text color similar. And of course I have pictures, but I'm not showing them to you. Hopefully, all will be fixed tomorrow, with some gloves and saran wrap. And while at dinner (yes, my parents went out to dinner, in public, with my pretty pony hair), my father ran into a co-worker who had two little girls. They were fascinated . . . because I look like my pretty pony head . . . or it looks like sea monkey hair. I haven't determined which is the better description. My father muttered about having to explain at work.
To all of the people at work . . . this is not my father's fault. Really it's not. And in the scheme of things . . . I support myself, have a master's degree and a pretty good job. It's only hair.
And all I can do is laugh. I did go to a salon and ask for blue hair. And it's just hair. And maybe next week I'll dye it black. Because with my pretty pony hair, people have a tendency to stare. More than with the red. And I don't blame them . . . at all . . . but I am finding it slightly unnerving. Especially, at the Palace of Pork Products with my parents.
I'm sure it will be more Cookie Monster colored tomorrow.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Because They Stick . . . Duh
I brought my mommy with me to work today.
My mother works in the same field . . . but way, way up the ladder. And it's nice to bring her down to visit the trenches once a year. So I had her come on a day with children.
"I had forgotten what ninth graders do with sticky notes" she said.
And the people in charge? They always want lessons involving sticky notes. They see them as a good way to share thoughts.
Now I know exactly what ninth graders do with sticky notes. They stick them. Incessantly.
And I cannot buy enough sticky notes. There would not be enough money in the budget. Because ninth graders do one thing with sticky notes. They stick them.
And I had put sticky notes down so they would not just sit anyway for their exams. Put them in alphabetical order, facing front. And then they stuck their sticky notes . . . on their foreheads, on the back of their heads, on their neighbors butts, on their arms, on my board. One of the boys took his entire exam (an hour and fifteen minutes) with a sticky note stuck to his forehead. He only took it off after the exam to stick it on someone's butt.
One more day.
And then blue hair.
My mother works in the same field . . . but way, way up the ladder. And it's nice to bring her down to visit the trenches once a year. So I had her come on a day with children.
"I had forgotten what ninth graders do with sticky notes" she said.
And the people in charge? They always want lessons involving sticky notes. They see them as a good way to share thoughts.
Now I know exactly what ninth graders do with sticky notes. They stick them. Incessantly.
And I cannot buy enough sticky notes. There would not be enough money in the budget. Because ninth graders do one thing with sticky notes. They stick them.
And I had put sticky notes down so they would not just sit anyway for their exams. Put them in alphabetical order, facing front. And then they stuck their sticky notes . . . on their foreheads, on the back of their heads, on their neighbors butts, on their arms, on my board. One of the boys took his entire exam (an hour and fifteen minutes) with a sticky note stuck to his forehead. He only took it off after the exam to stick it on someone's butt.
One more day.
And then blue hair.
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