I'm so crabby today. I think it's because I didn't sleep last night. Also, we're a third of the way through this list thing, and the bloom is off the rose. Hence, I will be indulging my inner curmudgeon today. (She's not very inner, I'm afraid.)
This is reminding me of a hysterical moment on Aliens in America last night. Franny is sitting in the car with her 15-year-old daughter, Claire, who is apologizing for her recent witchiness:
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Mom. Everything annoys me. It's like I'm on an island where I'm the only person who's not an idiot."
"Awwww, sweetie. You're becoming a woman."
SOME OF MY FAVORITE PEEVES
1. People who don't merge. Merging is crucial in southern California. Have they never noticed how much faster the knot unravels when they yield, rather than ramming their car into the last available inch?
2. The new mania with "adopting" everything. It's happening right now at Jarrah's preschool. There's a sign up asking parents to "adopt" a piece of the new playground. Really, will it require LiveScan, a police report, references and several years of your life? There's a lot of "adopting" things on the internet, too. I find the whole thing offensive in some way that I can't quite describe.
3. Phone calls five minutes before the start time of a party from a regretful guest who will no longer be attending. I know this is rather misanthropic of me, but hello? If my party is in five minutes, what do you think I'm doing right then? Watching TV and eating bon-bons?
4. Restaurants that keep you waiting longer than 10 minutes for the menu and a glass of water. When they're empty. And while we're on the subject, waiters who seat you next to the bathroom when the restaurant is empty.
5. That Jarrah whispers in a register audible only to crickets when I'm trying to get some crucial information out of her, but screams things like "Look at my sock!" directly in my ear the rest of the time.
6. How my husband, when he does the grocery shopping, reaches for anything that's a "reasonable facsimile" of something on my list. So well do I know him that recently I wrote: "Plain yogurt--don't get vanilla!" He got vanilla.
Okay, Readers. Fire away.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Day Nine: OCD Things I Do at the Gym
The place I can be found most often (besides my house) is the gym. Which makes me sound like some kind of fitness buff, which is just wrong, wrong, wrong. But I'm there a lot--three or four times a week, and occasionally more. I always find it amusing that my gym is housed in a mall called "Hazard Center." Apparently, there's a guy named Hazard who funded a lot of San Diego, but to me it's just descriptive. There are a lot of hazards at the gym, and I have lots of controlling little ways to avoid them.
1. I get my ID out as I approach the door. Not because it saves me time, but in order to avoid smiling, making eye contact, or otherwise engaging in any way with the teenager behind the desk. One quick glance to assess whether they are offering any promotional freebies (located in a basket just above the card reader) and I can swoop straight into the locker room.
2. I choose a locker in the back corner, near the lone chair that's always there. That way, I am less likely to have to jostle anyone passing through to the bathroom. And later, I have a perch to put on my socks. I check my hair, grimace, plaster down some unruly bits with a bit of water, and then head out. I approach the door slowly because I've been bonked before by people coming in.
3. I take a drink of water, but let the fountain run for a bit before putting my mouth down there, in some kind of misguided attempt at hygiene. Then I grab an orange workout towel, always eyeballing the entire stack before choosing one that has a particularly puffy-looking loop.
4. I survey the machines, assessing which elliptical trainer has the least: fan blasts, proximity to fluorescent lights, glare from the window, nearness to sweaty people. After settling in, I...
5. ...turn on the TV control to test for wonky headphone connection. If it's below standards, I move. If it passes, I set up my i-Pod (for musical interludes during ads) and...
6. ...adjust the incline to 10 and the resistance to 2. In the first three minutes, I will raise the resistance one level each minute. After three minutes, I pedal backwards for one minute. And so on. This highly elaborate regimen sometimes interferes with my admiration of a kick pleat or two on Project Runway.
7. For the next 30 minutes, I do a combo of elliptical and treadmill, but I usually do the elliptical first. On days when I feel really wild, I start with the treadmill. It's a real buzz to mix it up like that.
8. I do about six weight machines, during which I make a combined effort to watch my form, glower at people who are taking too long on the machine I want, and bug my eyes at people I have decided are standing too close to me for no reason at all except they happen to be talking right there.
9. During my stretch, I lay down on the mat with the same two consecutive thoughts each time: 1) This mat is probably a festival of germs, and 2) When did I become so fastidious? A few germs won't kill me.
10. My apres-workout shower is an elaborate and precise dance. First I wedge my gym bag onto the narrow bench next to the shower (it generally falls a few times), yank the curtain just so to conceal my feminine wiles, arrange my hair products, and finally--after the wet part--drop the aforementioned orange towel onto the floor in a practiced gesture (like throwing a pizza) so that it becomes an anti-fungal bath mat on which I conduct all my ablutions and emerge from behind the curtain fully dressed, lotioned, powdered, deoderized and combed.
11. While retrieving my remaining belongings from my locker, I cringe in anticipation of the woman who will attempt to open the locker right next to mine while commenting, "It's just Murphy's Law, isn't it?" And it always comes. Different woman. Same comment. Every time.
Clearly, I'm not the only one with "gym OCD." Readers? Care to share?
1. I get my ID out as I approach the door. Not because it saves me time, but in order to avoid smiling, making eye contact, or otherwise engaging in any way with the teenager behind the desk. One quick glance to assess whether they are offering any promotional freebies (located in a basket just above the card reader) and I can swoop straight into the locker room.
2. I choose a locker in the back corner, near the lone chair that's always there. That way, I am less likely to have to jostle anyone passing through to the bathroom. And later, I have a perch to put on my socks. I check my hair, grimace, plaster down some unruly bits with a bit of water, and then head out. I approach the door slowly because I've been bonked before by people coming in.
3. I take a drink of water, but let the fountain run for a bit before putting my mouth down there, in some kind of misguided attempt at hygiene. Then I grab an orange workout towel, always eyeballing the entire stack before choosing one that has a particularly puffy-looking loop.
4. I survey the machines, assessing which elliptical trainer has the least: fan blasts, proximity to fluorescent lights, glare from the window, nearness to sweaty people. After settling in, I...
5. ...turn on the TV control to test for wonky headphone connection. If it's below standards, I move. If it passes, I set up my i-Pod (for musical interludes during ads) and...
6. ...adjust the incline to 10 and the resistance to 2. In the first three minutes, I will raise the resistance one level each minute. After three minutes, I pedal backwards for one minute. And so on. This highly elaborate regimen sometimes interferes with my admiration of a kick pleat or two on Project Runway.
7. For the next 30 minutes, I do a combo of elliptical and treadmill, but I usually do the elliptical first. On days when I feel really wild, I start with the treadmill. It's a real buzz to mix it up like that.
8. I do about six weight machines, during which I make a combined effort to watch my form, glower at people who are taking too long on the machine I want, and bug my eyes at people I have decided are standing too close to me for no reason at all except they happen to be talking right there.
9. During my stretch, I lay down on the mat with the same two consecutive thoughts each time: 1) This mat is probably a festival of germs, and 2) When did I become so fastidious? A few germs won't kill me.
10. My apres-workout shower is an elaborate and precise dance. First I wedge my gym bag onto the narrow bench next to the shower (it generally falls a few times), yank the curtain just so to conceal my feminine wiles, arrange my hair products, and finally--after the wet part--drop the aforementioned orange towel onto the floor in a practiced gesture (like throwing a pizza) so that it becomes an anti-fungal bath mat on which I conduct all my ablutions and emerge from behind the curtain fully dressed, lotioned, powdered, deoderized and combed.
11. While retrieving my remaining belongings from my locker, I cringe in anticipation of the woman who will attempt to open the locker right next to mine while commenting, "It's just Murphy's Law, isn't it?" And it always comes. Different woman. Same comment. Every time.
Clearly, I'm not the only one with "gym OCD." Readers? Care to share?
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Day Eight: Bad Dates
I stole this idea from Typelittlea, who isn't even doing NaBloPoMo this month...she's just that clever. After you read her stunning example, see the comments for a more salacious instance I am not including here.
***********
1. When I was 16, a guy took me to see Being There, which he described as one of the all-time classics. I was so bored I almost slipped into a coma. I was dressed (adorably, I thought) in an '80s-era Madonna get-up with fingerless gloves, which he made fun of. But the best part was at dinner, when the waitress followed the standard greeting with: "And what would you like to drink? Tall, frosty glasses of milk?" I wanted to gag her with one of my gloves.
2. One guy asked to meet me at a bookstore near the beach, where he proceeded to recite WWI poetry to me, apparently so I could swoon over his elocution. I kept trying to convince him to take a walk on the boardwalk, but he said his shoes hurt. He also confessed that he was "jonesing for some nicotine," which was a real turn-on. Eventually, I saw him groping under a table outside the bookstore, from whence he produced a huge bouquet of roses. "How beautiful!" I exclaimed, and asked if he would walk me to my car so I could drop them off. "But I want you to carry them," he said, wounded. "Why?" (They weighed like 50 pounds.) "Because I want everyone to know we're together."
3. I met this guy at a Hillel "break fast" at UMass and he asked me to meet him at Packard's, a restaurant in Noho. When the waitress came over, I went first and ordered a hot chocolate. He said, "Just water for me, thanks." Then he whispered to me, "I didn't bring any money." He had a huge smile on his face.
4. I tried to suppress my misgivings when I ran into this guy, whom I hadn't seen in a couple years, and he was suddenly speaking in an English accent. He's from San Diego. His English accent was so good, however, that I allowed myself to be lulled into a non-questioning state. We went to see The Full Monty, which I'd already seen, but figured he'd feel a kinship with the film--after all, it's about his people. He seemed distracted and raced to the exit as soon as the credits rolled. On the way home (I was driving) he confessed that he'd spent the day in an apartment that had just been fumigated and wondered if he had some brain damage. Then he launched into a lively tale about the previous evening, which had been such a lark: "I met these two Irish girls at the pub, they crashed at my flat, and I ended up shagging them both in the same evening!" I gripped the wheel and laughed with the merriment of it all.
5. This one guy and I went to see White Men Can't Jump (another pick of mine--this guy was a basketball fan--how could we go wrong?) and by the end, he was sulking. We crossed the street to a diner and I ordered French toast. Apparently, that was my second fatal move of the evening:
Sam: Did you like the movie?
Chris: You know, I really didn't.
Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you would.
Chris: Well, you thought wrong. Why did you order breakfast at night, just out of curiosity?
Sam: Ummm...I have no idea. I guess I think of diners like casinos--there's no day or night.
Chris: It just seems like an awful lot of food.
Sam: Hmmm. Oh, I just remembered a funny story about French toast. Wait, did I tell you already?
Chris: I'm not sure.
Sam: Well, I'll start, and you can tell me if you've already heard it.
Chris: You better not. If I've already heard it, it will be awkward.
Sam: Well, it will be awkward NOW.
Chris: (expression softening) Sam, I think we both know this isn't working.
Sam: It isn't?
Chris: No. So I suggest we just sit back and enjoy these last few minutes together, and then we don't go out again.
Sam: (rising and throwing some bills on the table, while trying not to hurl) No, let's NOT enjoy these last few minutes together. Okay? Let's NOT do that.
To make it a little more surreal, he ran after me, we had a fight in the parking lot, and it started pouring like a monsoon, so hard that we were both blinded by the water running into our eyes. As he began rattling off the many wonderful qualities about me he would always cherish (and those were his EXACT words) I leaped into my Jeep and peeled out of the parking lot, hydroplaning like a madwoman.
************
Okay! I think we're about done here. No, I haven't exhausted the bad dates, but I have probably exhausted your attention span.
Here's your puzzler, Readers: Which of these fabulous dates went on to become relationships?
And don't get any ideas: None of these dates were with David. We haven't had any bad dates. ;)
***********
1. When I was 16, a guy took me to see Being There, which he described as one of the all-time classics. I was so bored I almost slipped into a coma. I was dressed (adorably, I thought) in an '80s-era Madonna get-up with fingerless gloves, which he made fun of. But the best part was at dinner, when the waitress followed the standard greeting with: "And what would you like to drink? Tall, frosty glasses of milk?" I wanted to gag her with one of my gloves.
2. One guy asked to meet me at a bookstore near the beach, where he proceeded to recite WWI poetry to me, apparently so I could swoon over his elocution. I kept trying to convince him to take a walk on the boardwalk, but he said his shoes hurt. He also confessed that he was "jonesing for some nicotine," which was a real turn-on. Eventually, I saw him groping under a table outside the bookstore, from whence he produced a huge bouquet of roses. "How beautiful!" I exclaimed, and asked if he would walk me to my car so I could drop them off. "But I want you to carry them," he said, wounded. "Why?" (They weighed like 50 pounds.) "Because I want everyone to know we're together."
3. I met this guy at a Hillel "break fast" at UMass and he asked me to meet him at Packard's, a restaurant in Noho. When the waitress came over, I went first and ordered a hot chocolate. He said, "Just water for me, thanks." Then he whispered to me, "I didn't bring any money." He had a huge smile on his face.
4. I tried to suppress my misgivings when I ran into this guy, whom I hadn't seen in a couple years, and he was suddenly speaking in an English accent. He's from San Diego. His English accent was so good, however, that I allowed myself to be lulled into a non-questioning state. We went to see The Full Monty, which I'd already seen, but figured he'd feel a kinship with the film--after all, it's about his people. He seemed distracted and raced to the exit as soon as the credits rolled. On the way home (I was driving) he confessed that he'd spent the day in an apartment that had just been fumigated and wondered if he had some brain damage. Then he launched into a lively tale about the previous evening, which had been such a lark: "I met these two Irish girls at the pub, they crashed at my flat, and I ended up shagging them both in the same evening!" I gripped the wheel and laughed with the merriment of it all.
5. This one guy and I went to see White Men Can't Jump (another pick of mine--this guy was a basketball fan--how could we go wrong?) and by the end, he was sulking. We crossed the street to a diner and I ordered French toast. Apparently, that was my second fatal move of the evening:
Sam: Did you like the movie?
Chris: You know, I really didn't.
Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you would.
Chris: Well, you thought wrong. Why did you order breakfast at night, just out of curiosity?
Sam: Ummm...I have no idea. I guess I think of diners like casinos--there's no day or night.
Chris: It just seems like an awful lot of food.
Sam: Hmmm. Oh, I just remembered a funny story about French toast. Wait, did I tell you already?
Chris: I'm not sure.
Sam: Well, I'll start, and you can tell me if you've already heard it.
Chris: You better not. If I've already heard it, it will be awkward.
Sam: Well, it will be awkward NOW.
Chris: (expression softening) Sam, I think we both know this isn't working.
Sam: It isn't?
Chris: No. So I suggest we just sit back and enjoy these last few minutes together, and then we don't go out again.
Sam: (rising and throwing some bills on the table, while trying not to hurl) No, let's NOT enjoy these last few minutes together. Okay? Let's NOT do that.
To make it a little more surreal, he ran after me, we had a fight in the parking lot, and it started pouring like a monsoon, so hard that we were both blinded by the water running into our eyes. As he began rattling off the many wonderful qualities about me he would always cherish (and those were his EXACT words) I leaped into my Jeep and peeled out of the parking lot, hydroplaning like a madwoman.
************
Okay! I think we're about done here. No, I haven't exhausted the bad dates, but I have probably exhausted your attention span.
Here's your puzzler, Readers: Which of these fabulous dates went on to become relationships?
And don't get any ideas: None of these dates were with David. We haven't had any bad dates. ;)
Friday, March 07, 2008
Day Seven: What She Said
1. Jarrah and her friend Yea-Yea got matching dinos (and completely adorable dino "food"--thanks, Jessica!) at Build-A-Bear last night. Asked by the stuffer lady what she planned to name hers, without hesitation: "T. Rex Brown."
2. On the way home from school today: "Do you love me like a song?"
3. Picking the blueberries out of her scone: "I don't like these new kind of raisins."
4. In her bath: "Soap, where are you? You're making me crazy!"
5. Every five minutes or so: "Do you want to see a hula-hooping show?" After a few twirls: "Now clap!"
6. Leaving for school with David this morning, addressed to me: "You have a nice time. Enjoy yourself. You can stay in the house, or you can go out. Then you can pick me up."
7. Finding "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on her i-Pod: "This is my song!"
8. Hands on her hips, standing over me: "I'm mad at you, okay?"
9: Back-seat driver: "You drive too fast...'cause it's important."
10. After going to bed with him next to her on the pillow: "Mom! I need remove T. Rex to office! He scare me!" As I retreated with T.R. Brown under my arm: "And his food!"
2. On the way home from school today: "Do you love me like a song?"
3. Picking the blueberries out of her scone: "I don't like these new kind of raisins."
4. In her bath: "Soap, where are you? You're making me crazy!"
5. Every five minutes or so: "Do you want to see a hula-hooping show?" After a few twirls: "Now clap!"
6. Leaving for school with David this morning, addressed to me: "You have a nice time. Enjoy yourself. You can stay in the house, or you can go out. Then you can pick me up."
7. Finding "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on her i-Pod: "This is my song!"
8. Hands on her hips, standing over me: "I'm mad at you, okay?"
9: Back-seat driver: "You drive too fast...'cause it's important."
10. After going to bed with him next to her on the pillow: "Mom! I need remove T. Rex to office! He scare me!" As I retreated with T.R. Brown under my arm: "And his food!"
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Day Six: Pasty Boys I Have Loved
Not real boys, Readers. I'm still talking about celebrities here. It's also scary that I seem to have a big black hole in my memory since motherhood, and I can't remember all of them anymore. But I am confident that whoever is among the missing, they are pasty, too.
Gary Sinise
You're probably like, WHAT? I know he's on CSI or something these days, and still known as a good actor, but I don't watch that show. I am specifically referring to Gary circa Forrest Gump, in which he played Captain Dan. He was bossy and crabby and irresistable in that movie. Especially when he got all scraggly and had no legs. That's when I really swooned. People always ask, "And what do you think that means, that you were attracted to an amputee?" I have no idea. You tell me.
Peter Saarsgard
You're probably like, WHO? I first fell for him in Shattered Glass, when he played the guy's editor. He looked so sexy when he got all sweaty and tense. Shortly thereafter, he was delicious in Garden State, as the gravedigger best friend. I realized that I mostly love his voice, which sounds like someone shoveling the front walk V-E-R-Y slowly. Yum. He was naked in Kinsey, which didn't bother me a bit. And then recently he played the sexually ambiguous animal lover (that came out wrong) in Year of the Dog. I liked him even in pleated bermuda shorts, and that is saying a LOT.
Paul Rudd
You're probably like, Oh, CLUELESS. Or possibly, "Phoebe's sweet boyfriend on Friends." No, that wasn't when I started liking him. When I really fell was an episode of Veronica Mars last year in which he played a washed-up rock star. I totally believed him, and my heart ached for his pain. I thought, this guy elevates every morsel of material he touches. That's why I really love him, Readers. His ART. Recently, we rented I Could Never Be Your Woman, an Amy Heckerling movie (Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and the aforementioned Clueless) that went to straight to video even though it stars Michelle Pfeiffer. He's not only pasty in that one, he's paunchy. And utterly scrumptious. Especially when he performs a dance for her that makes him look like he doesn't really control his neural pathways. I am a total sucker for guys who know they look dumb when they dance, but dance anyway. Ooooh, somebody fan me!
James McAvoy
Suddenly, he seems to be everywhere. But it was all over for me the second I saw him in Atonement, carrying luggage, scowling poolside, watching with horror and lust as Keira Knightley dunks her cotton-voile-clad bones in the fountain. And that library scene! But two moments really cinched it: when he looks up from under his lashes--sleepy boy on his shoulders--at the entire family waiting for him after he's been accused, and when he asks his soldier friend to wake him in time for the ship that will sail him home to his love. I know what you're wondering: did I fall for the romance, or the man with the butterscotch freckles? And I respond with another question: can we ever truly know?
Jim Sturgess
Again, you're probably like, WHO? He's very young and pale and also British (Liverpudlian instead of Scottish this time.) He played Jude in Across the Universe. This was a movie, as David puts it, that was "widely panned," but now that I've seen it, I may never trust reviews again. I can't really imagine two hours better spent than watching a boy with a mouth like a rosebud sing Beatles songs without the slightest provocation (and quite well, I might add.) Lots of other people were singing but I barely noticed them. His hair is all...tendril-y. A look that continued in the very recent The Other Boleyn Girl, a bad movie based on a fabulous book. He plays Thomas Boleyn, the brother of the aforementioned Girl and Other Girl, and has very little to do except stand around looking pained and smoldering. And really, isn't that enough?
Gary Sinise
You're probably like, WHAT? I know he's on CSI or something these days, and still known as a good actor, but I don't watch that show. I am specifically referring to Gary circa Forrest Gump, in which he played Captain Dan. He was bossy and crabby and irresistable in that movie. Especially when he got all scraggly and had no legs. That's when I really swooned. People always ask, "And what do you think that means, that you were attracted to an amputee?" I have no idea. You tell me.
Peter Saarsgard
You're probably like, WHO? I first fell for him in Shattered Glass, when he played the guy's editor. He looked so sexy when he got all sweaty and tense. Shortly thereafter, he was delicious in Garden State, as the gravedigger best friend. I realized that I mostly love his voice, which sounds like someone shoveling the front walk V-E-R-Y slowly. Yum. He was naked in Kinsey, which didn't bother me a bit. And then recently he played the sexually ambiguous animal lover (that came out wrong) in Year of the Dog. I liked him even in pleated bermuda shorts, and that is saying a LOT.
Paul Rudd
You're probably like, Oh, CLUELESS. Or possibly, "Phoebe's sweet boyfriend on Friends." No, that wasn't when I started liking him. When I really fell was an episode of Veronica Mars last year in which he played a washed-up rock star. I totally believed him, and my heart ached for his pain. I thought, this guy elevates every morsel of material he touches. That's why I really love him, Readers. His ART. Recently, we rented I Could Never Be Your Woman, an Amy Heckerling movie (Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and the aforementioned Clueless) that went to straight to video even though it stars Michelle Pfeiffer. He's not only pasty in that one, he's paunchy. And utterly scrumptious. Especially when he performs a dance for her that makes him look like he doesn't really control his neural pathways. I am a total sucker for guys who know they look dumb when they dance, but dance anyway. Ooooh, somebody fan me!
James McAvoy
Suddenly, he seems to be everywhere. But it was all over for me the second I saw him in Atonement, carrying luggage, scowling poolside, watching with horror and lust as Keira Knightley dunks her cotton-voile-clad bones in the fountain. And that library scene! But two moments really cinched it: when he looks up from under his lashes--sleepy boy on his shoulders--at the entire family waiting for him after he's been accused, and when he asks his soldier friend to wake him in time for the ship that will sail him home to his love. I know what you're wondering: did I fall for the romance, or the man with the butterscotch freckles? And I respond with another question: can we ever truly know?
Jim Sturgess
Again, you're probably like, WHO? He's very young and pale and also British (Liverpudlian instead of Scottish this time.) He played Jude in Across the Universe. This was a movie, as David puts it, that was "widely panned," but now that I've seen it, I may never trust reviews again. I can't really imagine two hours better spent than watching a boy with a mouth like a rosebud sing Beatles songs without the slightest provocation (and quite well, I might add.) Lots of other people were singing but I barely noticed them. His hair is all...tendril-y. A look that continued in the very recent The Other Boleyn Girl, a bad movie based on a fabulous book. He plays Thomas Boleyn, the brother of the aforementioned Girl and Other Girl, and has very little to do except stand around looking pained and smoldering. And really, isn't that enough?
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Day Five: Jarrah-Will-Be-Up-In-Ten-Minutes List
Today, Jane and I had a special girly day. Sigh. I LERVE special girly days. Don't get me wrong, I'm stoked that my daughter is turning out to be a jock. But give me drinks with umbrellas and glitter on my toenails any day, and I'll be happy.
THINGS THAT MADE TODAY TOTALLY AWESOME:
1. My friend Lix (that's her nickname) called from Basel, Switzerland while I was finishing my coffee, and made me laugh, like she always does. Hi, Lix!
2. I had printed out two coupons that entitled Jane and I to be encased in hot oil and wax from head to toe, draped in organic seaweed, buffed to a high shine, and decorated with flowers, all for the low, low price of $29. I might be lying about the seaweed, but JUST the seaweed.
3. The pedicure chairs were massage thrones, and four gals gave our calluses a sound thrashing while we talked and talked and talked some more. A butch-looking guy across the room was getting his toes painted red and smiling from ear to ear. My sentiments exactly.
4. Feeling super-naughty, I called Jarrah's preschool and asked if she could stay for "after care" today. Per usual, the director responded "Not a problem."
5. With our toenails sparkling in the sun, we headed for the Nordstrom Cafe, where we ordered one of everything on the menu and talked and talked and talked some more.
6. Still sparkling and now pleasantly full, we felt up some Nordstrom couture and made each other guess how much. (One sundress was $4,000! I'm no longer comfortable buying anything that isn't from Target.)
7. At Sephora, we tried: mascara with names like Skyscraper and Bad Gal, super-cool blush that goes on like deoderant, and white eyeshadow (just call me "eye-curious") while being treated like fancy ladies (weekdays at Sephora must be slow.) By the time we left, I had one white eye, one rose-coated hand, and a new eyelash curler.
8. See's Candies gives you a free piece just for walking in the door. And we only wanted one piece.
9. Have I mentioned there was a lot of talking?
10. When we picked up Jarrah, she asked Jane to visit the "jungle" with her (a fenced-off pile of dirt behind some bushes where I think they're putting in a new water main) and pointed out where all the animals live, including the "hippy-pom-uh."
Readers, what do you do on your special girly days?
THINGS THAT MADE TODAY TOTALLY AWESOME:
1. My friend Lix (that's her nickname) called from Basel, Switzerland while I was finishing my coffee, and made me laugh, like she always does. Hi, Lix!
2. I had printed out two coupons that entitled Jane and I to be encased in hot oil and wax from head to toe, draped in organic seaweed, buffed to a high shine, and decorated with flowers, all for the low, low price of $29. I might be lying about the seaweed, but JUST the seaweed.
3. The pedicure chairs were massage thrones, and four gals gave our calluses a sound thrashing while we talked and talked and talked some more. A butch-looking guy across the room was getting his toes painted red and smiling from ear to ear. My sentiments exactly.
4. Feeling super-naughty, I called Jarrah's preschool and asked if she could stay for "after care" today. Per usual, the director responded "Not a problem."
5. With our toenails sparkling in the sun, we headed for the Nordstrom Cafe, where we ordered one of everything on the menu and talked and talked and talked some more.
6. Still sparkling and now pleasantly full, we felt up some Nordstrom couture and made each other guess how much. (One sundress was $4,000! I'm no longer comfortable buying anything that isn't from Target.)
7. At Sephora, we tried: mascara with names like Skyscraper and Bad Gal, super-cool blush that goes on like deoderant, and white eyeshadow (just call me "eye-curious") while being treated like fancy ladies (weekdays at Sephora must be slow.) By the time we left, I had one white eye, one rose-coated hand, and a new eyelash curler.
8. See's Candies gives you a free piece just for walking in the door. And we only wanted one piece.
9. Have I mentioned there was a lot of talking?
10. When we picked up Jarrah, she asked Jane to visit the "jungle" with her (a fenced-off pile of dirt behind some bushes where I think they're putting in a new water main) and pointed out where all the animals live, including the "hippy-pom-uh."
Readers, what do you do on your special girly days?
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Day Four: Riding the Wavelet
Some of you know what my husband does for a living. But none of you REALLY knows, and I say that with confidence because: I don't really know what he does for a living.
When I first got to grad school in '93, I realized right away that I had no idea what they were talking about it. Not just the professors--the students, too. For nearly a year, I sat in my interminable three-hour seminars and made lists of words under the heading "Look Up When You Get Home." Unfortunately, none of the words were in the dictionary. It took me years to wield any of this "theory-speak" with authority, and only in context. I couldn't give you a definition of "epistemological" to save my life.
And then I met David. The first time I heard him having a conversation with a co-worker, his mysterious idiom was a bit of a turn-on. What can I say, I'm one of those girls who gets all twitterpated over guys who talk math.
Eventually, David started a blog, which is linked from mine, of course. But I'd wager that if any of you have ever clicked on it, you unclicked in a hurry, since the whole thing seems to be written in code. But you're in for a rare and educational treat: Today I've chosen a few morsels to deconstruct for you. Without further ado, your education in video software engineering. You're welcome.
STUFF DAVID HAS WRITTEN IN HIS BLOG, WHICH HAS MANY MORE VISITORS THAN MINE:
As CineForm is wrapper agnostic, we needed to store it differently so that it can't be lost. CineForm is the name of their company. What they sell is a little bit like rootbeer barrels, but they are deeply ambivalent about being wrapped.
The demosaic algorithm is the process that converts the one value per pixel of a raw bayer sensor to the more useful three color primaries per pixel like RGB (see Wikipedia article on demosaicing.) Well, what are you waiting for? Find that article! How can you go another minute without knowing about demosaicing? The raw bayer sensor is getting a headache from your recalcitrance. The rest is simple economics: which would you rather have, one value or three color primaries?
CineForm has become a very high-quality native acquisition format, making the issue of transcoding moot. Kind of like what happened in "Jesse's Girl."
CineForm is the company most guilty of using the term Visually Lossless (VL)--we may even have coined it. It saddens me to admit that until this moment, I didn't know the extent to which my husband was guilty. Now I learn he's been bandying "Visually Lossless" up and down the west coast, not caring a bit who hears. Discuss among yourselves--I'll give you a topic: Is Lossless the same as Found?
There is a point in most high bit-rate image compression technologies when the amount of loss is insignificant; this occurs when the compression error falls well below the inherent noise floor of the imaging device. The inherent noise floor is the bane of my existence. Noise on the floor, ceiling, walls...my bit-rate is totally compressed.
Lossy--sounds bad doesn't it? But even visually lossless compression is not mathematically identical to the original. To reliably achieve image compression above about 2:1, a lossy compression is required. If that isn't a rhetorical question, well then, yes, I have to admit--it sounds bad. Lossy, come home!
Linear compression eats shadow noise - that may be perceived as a good thing. Unless you're the shadow noise. Then you probably perceive it as a bad thing.
The problem arose when I did state that there can be a subtle issue for chroma keying when using any 4:2:0 24p signal encoded into 60i. That saucy thing! But I see his point--chroma keying can be so subtle, sometimes you forget you were ever encoding it. You forget everything, in fact--your name, your age, how to get home...luckily, 60i is one of those rare natural phenomena that might not occur in our lifetime.
24p editing on a 60i timeline is far more common than it should be, and just like interlace video, it should be outlawed. I just knew he was hiding something. The horror! An anti-Interlacist, living under my roof!
When I first got to grad school in '93, I realized right away that I had no idea what they were talking about it. Not just the professors--the students, too. For nearly a year, I sat in my interminable three-hour seminars and made lists of words under the heading "Look Up When You Get Home." Unfortunately, none of the words were in the dictionary. It took me years to wield any of this "theory-speak" with authority, and only in context. I couldn't give you a definition of "epistemological" to save my life.
And then I met David. The first time I heard him having a conversation with a co-worker, his mysterious idiom was a bit of a turn-on. What can I say, I'm one of those girls who gets all twitterpated over guys who talk math.
Eventually, David started a blog, which is linked from mine, of course. But I'd wager that if any of you have ever clicked on it, you unclicked in a hurry, since the whole thing seems to be written in code. But you're in for a rare and educational treat: Today I've chosen a few morsels to deconstruct for you. Without further ado, your education in video software engineering. You're welcome.
STUFF DAVID HAS WRITTEN IN HIS BLOG, WHICH HAS MANY MORE VISITORS THAN MINE:
As CineForm is wrapper agnostic, we needed to store it differently so that it can't be lost. CineForm is the name of their company. What they sell is a little bit like rootbeer barrels, but they are deeply ambivalent about being wrapped.
The demosaic algorithm is the process that converts the one value per pixel of a raw bayer sensor to the more useful three color primaries per pixel like RGB (see Wikipedia article on demosaicing.) Well, what are you waiting for? Find that article! How can you go another minute without knowing about demosaicing? The raw bayer sensor is getting a headache from your recalcitrance. The rest is simple economics: which would you rather have, one value or three color primaries?
CineForm has become a very high-quality native acquisition format, making the issue of transcoding moot. Kind of like what happened in "Jesse's Girl."
CineForm is the company most guilty of using the term Visually Lossless (VL)--we may even have coined it. It saddens me to admit that until this moment, I didn't know the extent to which my husband was guilty. Now I learn he's been bandying "Visually Lossless" up and down the west coast, not caring a bit who hears. Discuss among yourselves--I'll give you a topic: Is Lossless the same as Found?
There is a point in most high bit-rate image compression technologies when the amount of loss is insignificant; this occurs when the compression error falls well below the inherent noise floor of the imaging device. The inherent noise floor is the bane of my existence. Noise on the floor, ceiling, walls...my bit-rate is totally compressed.
Lossy--sounds bad doesn't it? But even visually lossless compression is not mathematically identical to the original. To reliably achieve image compression above about 2:1, a lossy compression is required. If that isn't a rhetorical question, well then, yes, I have to admit--it sounds bad. Lossy, come home!
Linear compression eats shadow noise - that may be perceived as a good thing. Unless you're the shadow noise. Then you probably perceive it as a bad thing.
The problem arose when I did state that there can be a subtle issue for chroma keying when using any 4:2:0 24p signal encoded into 60i. That saucy thing! But I see his point--chroma keying can be so subtle, sometimes you forget you were ever encoding it. You forget everything, in fact--your name, your age, how to get home...luckily, 60i is one of those rare natural phenomena that might not occur in our lifetime.
24p editing on a 60i timeline is far more common than it should be, and just like interlace video, it should be outlawed. I just knew he was hiding something. The horror! An anti-Interlacist, living under my roof!
Monday, March 03, 2008
Day Three: Celebrity Rehab
So, I'm at the gym today, on the elliptical, watching The View as is my wont, and they have this guy Drew Pinsky as guest. He's the host of Celebrity Rehab, and they showed pictures of D-list celebs shaking and sweating and vomiting. Lovely. Pinsky himself seems like a pretty bright guy. He said that you have to be in the public eye already to consider having your detox filmed, because you know what it means to show that much. And I nodded, because I totally get that. After all, I've had a few brushes with celebrity myself. Or, should I say, pokes and tickles.
MY LIFE ON THE Z-LIST:
1. Hilary Swank thanked my cousin on TV at both the Golden Globes and the Oscars. (He's a famous agent. And yeah, I know that's not actually me, but I'm related to him, right?)
2. I danced Nia on the NBC morning news. (You can see me doing some fabulous-looking kicks. Afterwards, one of the cameramen said "You looked hot. I'm free for lunch.")
3. I talked about this blog on "These Days" on NPR. (One of the other guests was Dooce, who is uber-famous, so it was like a double-brush.)
4. Lee Ann Kim from Channel 10 interviewed me for the 6:00 news when I was teaching a mini-course on Jewish Humor at a mall. (It's a bit sick, really--they were looking for some "Jewish content" because there had been an anti-Semitic shooting that day. The piece never aired.)
5. A reporter from The Yiddish Forward followed me around all afternoon when I gave a talk at the Catskills Conference. (She even took notes when I unexpectedly had a long-lost reunion with my third cousin, Renee, who lives in that area. The reporter did quote me in the resulting piece.)
6. I was approached by a darling girl after giving a poetry reading for The New Writers Series at UCSD, asking if I would autograph a copy of my book for her. (It was a bittersweet moment, since I don't have a book. She gushed that she especially related to my poem "Why I Am No Longer a Redhead." She was, in fact, a redhead herself.)
7. Once, when I asked for some tickets under my name at Will Call, the ticket gal gasped and said, "Not the Samantha G.????? The POET?" (Really, I have no idea what she was on about, but what could be more delicious?)
8. I received an e-mail from a nice woman in New York who said she had read my dissertation (okay, that in itself is mind-boggling) and wanted to interview me for a documentary she was making. After IMDB-ing her, I discovered she was the director of one of my favorite movies, Crossing Delancey, and has had a long and illustrious career. (We did have an interview, but the film is still "in concept.")
9. I got a call from the editor of the San Diego Jewish Journal, asking if I would consider writing a piece on the novel Marjorie Morningstar for its 50th anniversary. Along with the piece, I would have the opportunity to interview novelist Herman Wouk himself. (I regret that I wasn't able to meet him in person. But we did the interview over e-mail, and his publicist told me he liked my questions. Psych!)
10. When my sister was working at Warner Bros., she and her boss asked me to write a "treatment" for a television pilot. They liked the treatment, and gave me the full-court press to write the script. I will never forget her boss shaking my hand and saying "You're about to make us all a lot of money." Whee! The show was called Temporary Insanity, and followed the wacky adventures of four full-time "temps" in the corporate jungle of Boston. (That pilot is "in turnaround," which is a catchy way of saying someone pitched it in a drawer several years ago, where it will be found someday frozen in amber with a buttercup in its mouth.)
MY LIFE ON THE Z-LIST:
1. Hilary Swank thanked my cousin on TV at both the Golden Globes and the Oscars. (He's a famous agent. And yeah, I know that's not actually me, but I'm related to him, right?)
2. I danced Nia on the NBC morning news. (You can see me doing some fabulous-looking kicks. Afterwards, one of the cameramen said "You looked hot. I'm free for lunch.")
3. I talked about this blog on "These Days" on NPR. (One of the other guests was Dooce, who is uber-famous, so it was like a double-brush.)
4. Lee Ann Kim from Channel 10 interviewed me for the 6:00 news when I was teaching a mini-course on Jewish Humor at a mall. (It's a bit sick, really--they were looking for some "Jewish content" because there had been an anti-Semitic shooting that day. The piece never aired.)
5. A reporter from The Yiddish Forward followed me around all afternoon when I gave a talk at the Catskills Conference. (She even took notes when I unexpectedly had a long-lost reunion with my third cousin, Renee, who lives in that area. The reporter did quote me in the resulting piece.)
6. I was approached by a darling girl after giving a poetry reading for The New Writers Series at UCSD, asking if I would autograph a copy of my book for her. (It was a bittersweet moment, since I don't have a book. She gushed that she especially related to my poem "Why I Am No Longer a Redhead." She was, in fact, a redhead herself.)
7. Once, when I asked for some tickets under my name at Will Call, the ticket gal gasped and said, "Not the Samantha G.????? The POET?" (Really, I have no idea what she was on about, but what could be more delicious?)
8. I received an e-mail from a nice woman in New York who said she had read my dissertation (okay, that in itself is mind-boggling) and wanted to interview me for a documentary she was making. After IMDB-ing her, I discovered she was the director of one of my favorite movies, Crossing Delancey, and has had a long and illustrious career. (We did have an interview, but the film is still "in concept.")
9. I got a call from the editor of the San Diego Jewish Journal, asking if I would consider writing a piece on the novel Marjorie Morningstar for its 50th anniversary. Along with the piece, I would have the opportunity to interview novelist Herman Wouk himself. (I regret that I wasn't able to meet him in person. But we did the interview over e-mail, and his publicist told me he liked my questions. Psych!)
10. When my sister was working at Warner Bros., she and her boss asked me to write a "treatment" for a television pilot. They liked the treatment, and gave me the full-court press to write the script. I will never forget her boss shaking my hand and saying "You're about to make us all a lot of money." Whee! The show was called Temporary Insanity, and followed the wacky adventures of four full-time "temps" in the corporate jungle of Boston. (That pilot is "in turnaround," which is a catchy way of saying someone pitched it in a drawer several years ago, where it will be found someday frozen in amber with a buttercup in its mouth.)
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Day Two: Forbidden Fruit
Jane is in town from New York, and asked us if we were free for dinner last night. I was determined that we were not going to take my friend of 15 years, who lives in the foodiest city in the world, to another crapcake chain restaurant. So we went to Burger Lounge and then continued on to Heaven Sent Desserts, where we shared:
1. Chocolate souffle with raspberries and cream
2. Strawberry Fraise (kind of like strawberry shortcake)
3. Mixed Berry Crisp with ice cream
4. Pink Coconut Snoballs (with a chocolate cake center, ostensibly for Jarrah)
It was a dessert orgy. Jarrah ate the most. (Really, I swear.) And I thought the Snoballs were the best.
Anyway, I got to thinking that it's very rare for us to have a great meal anymore, for several reasons:
1. Did I mention I hate chain restaurants? However:
2. Chain restaurants don't freak out if your child needs a caution cone.
3. Parenthood is expensive (especially babysitters) so David and I tend to eat somewhere fast and cheap when it's just the two of us.
4. I am tired and lazy now and can't commit to cooking something truly delicious.
On a separate but related note, I am not a good shopper. I buy things like bunches of leeks just so they can go off and get thrown away before I get motivated to read a recipe. And I have long ago learned (and then learned again, and again, and again) that there are certain things I just cannot be trusted to be alone with during the day, especially at nap time. Hence, today's official list:
THINGS I HAVE LEARNED THE HARD WAY NEVER, EVER TO BUY AT THE SUPERMARKET:
1. Haagen-Daz chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream
2. Hawaiian sweet rolls in the 24 pack
3. Blocks of sharp yellow cheddar cheese
4. Pillsbury cinammon rolls in the tube
5. Hostess Cherry Pies
6. Any cookie labeled "Reduced Fat!"
7. Black Licorice in the box (with 10 percent more!)
8. Fruit by the Foot
9. Frosted Pop Tarts
10. Oreo Double-Stuff (known in my family as "Double-Paste," but it's a long story)
What does it mean that I feel physically ill reading my items, and yet writing it made me want all of them?
Okay, Readers, your turn: What's your Forbidden Fruit? Or am I the only one with disgusting secret cravings?
1. Chocolate souffle with raspberries and cream
2. Strawberry Fraise (kind of like strawberry shortcake)
3. Mixed Berry Crisp with ice cream
4. Pink Coconut Snoballs (with a chocolate cake center, ostensibly for Jarrah)
It was a dessert orgy. Jarrah ate the most. (Really, I swear.) And I thought the Snoballs were the best.
Anyway, I got to thinking that it's very rare for us to have a great meal anymore, for several reasons:
1. Did I mention I hate chain restaurants? However:
2. Chain restaurants don't freak out if your child needs a caution cone.
3. Parenthood is expensive (especially babysitters) so David and I tend to eat somewhere fast and cheap when it's just the two of us.
4. I am tired and lazy now and can't commit to cooking something truly delicious.
On a separate but related note, I am not a good shopper. I buy things like bunches of leeks just so they can go off and get thrown away before I get motivated to read a recipe. And I have long ago learned (and then learned again, and again, and again) that there are certain things I just cannot be trusted to be alone with during the day, especially at nap time. Hence, today's official list:
THINGS I HAVE LEARNED THE HARD WAY NEVER, EVER TO BUY AT THE SUPERMARKET:
1. Haagen-Daz chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream
2. Hawaiian sweet rolls in the 24 pack
3. Blocks of sharp yellow cheddar cheese
4. Pillsbury cinammon rolls in the tube
5. Hostess Cherry Pies
6. Any cookie labeled "Reduced Fat!"
7. Black Licorice in the box (with 10 percent more!)
8. Fruit by the Foot
9. Frosted Pop Tarts
10. Oreo Double-Stuff (known in my family as "Double-Paste," but it's a long story)
What does it mean that I feel physically ill reading my items, and yet writing it made me want all of them?
Okay, Readers, your turn: What's your Forbidden Fruit? Or am I the only one with disgusting secret cravings?
Saturday, March 01, 2008
March Madness!
Today I am embarking on the second incarnation of NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month (click on the icon on the sidebar for more info.) Formerly, from what I understand, this was meant to be an annual event taking place in November, but due to waves of enthusiasm, it's now going monthly. So...starting today, I pledge to post in this space every single day of March. If you are a regular reader (and if so, I thank you) I hope you will check on me and send me encouragement from time to time.
This month's theme is: LISTS. I like lists. I really have no problem making lists, as long as they are not of important things I should be doing with my life. Also, I feel this theme is appropriate for me in particular: I will be forced to tame my prolix tendencies, and cultivate a refined terseness that will no doubt have an astringent effect on my composition process. How do you like them apples?
Because we attended the FCC Chinese New Year banquet today, I'll begin with two CNY lists, ending on an upbeat note. That means I'll be starting on a downbeat one.
THINGS THAT SUCKED AT CNY THIS YEAR:
1. The food. The lines were really long, and the food was cold. And gelatinous. Ick.
2. We spent $20 on raffle tickets and didn't win a single thing. Boo.
THINGS THAT DID NOT SUCK:
1. Jarrah and Joy carrying the dragon through the room to the beat of drums. They seemed so grown up.
2. Jarrah and Joy dancing like Elaine Benes on the stage.
3. Jarrah painstakingly dotting glue on her Year of the Rat craft.
4. The lion dancers, who totally rocked. One of them even stood on another lion's shoulders!
5. The brief fantasy of winning the raffle baskets, some of which included beach resort weekends.
6. The rat Beanie Babies handed out to the kids.
7. Jarrah explaining "We eat long noodles, and dumplings, and fortune cookies, for our feast!" (Someone's been reading a lot of books on Chinese New Year.)
This month's theme is: LISTS. I like lists. I really have no problem making lists, as long as they are not of important things I should be doing with my life. Also, I feel this theme is appropriate for me in particular: I will be forced to tame my prolix tendencies, and cultivate a refined terseness that will no doubt have an astringent effect on my composition process. How do you like them apples?
Because we attended the FCC Chinese New Year banquet today, I'll begin with two CNY lists, ending on an upbeat note. That means I'll be starting on a downbeat one.THINGS THAT SUCKED AT CNY THIS YEAR:
1. The food. The lines were really long, and the food was cold. And gelatinous. Ick.
2. We spent $20 on raffle tickets and didn't win a single thing. Boo.
THINGS THAT DID NOT SUCK:
1. Jarrah and Joy carrying the dragon through the room to the beat of drums. They seemed so grown up.
2. Jarrah and Joy dancing like Elaine Benes on the stage.
3. Jarrah painstakingly dotting glue on her Year of the Rat craft.
4. The lion dancers, who totally rocked. One of them even stood on another lion's shoulders!
5. The brief fantasy of winning the raffle baskets, some of which included beach resort weekends.6. The rat Beanie Babies handed out to the kids.
7. Jarrah explaining "We eat long noodles, and dumplings, and fortune cookies, for our feast!" (Someone's been reading a lot of books on Chinese New Year.)
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