Where it all falls apart

MimiSmartipants is a blog that I read now and again, not because I know the author, but because I always enjoy her writing immensly. She is hilariously irreverent, and she tells awesome stories about their adopted Chinese American daughter. But I have realized that I could not hang out with her:

'4. LT was watching some History Channel thing about agriculture and climate change in the Middle Ages (no shit) and I left the room after hearing the phrase "the most user-friendly potato." A girl seriously has to draw the line somewhere.'

Because that's the kind of program that you couldn't drag me away from.

Get out of my dreams, get onto my scooter

I had a nightmare last night, which is disturbing on several levels. One, I haven't had a nightmare in a long time, and I had actually thought that I might be done with them. But, this wasn't nearly as bad as some, so it might actually have to go in the "normal people have bad dreams sometimes" pile, instead of the "further proof that I am nuts" pile. Two, the dream featured people breaking into my house, which is actually a pretty large fear of mine, so that was an extra layer of creepy.

I dreamed that I woke up and went downstairs because I heard something going on outside. While I was looking out my front window (which, in the dream, was in a different place than it really is), a man crashed through my front door. And, of course, I was totally unable to push him outside or to yell or do anything forceful, because that's what happens in dreams. [On a side note, the only person that I've ever been successfully violent towards in a dream was a woman. Analyze that one, why don't you?] But, as I'm struggling with the man, Adam comes down the stairs and then the police come through the front door and grab the guy.

So, we're standing outside of our house after all of that (and the front of our house is different, but everything else on the block looks right) and we find out that the house breaker and an accomplice had started a fire at a house down the block. That's when I realize that the people standing around with us are my Aunt Alice and Uncle Steve, and they lived on our block and it was their house that had been on fire. And that's where we find our third disturbing level, because standing next to them was their daughter Janet, who died at 13 from complications from leukemia. And I miss her.

But what I don't understand is how that all ties in to what actually happened during the day yesterday, which was nothing more than Burrito Night at Chipotle and then some scooter shopping at Honda Town. Burrito Night is always good, but the scooter shopping was a total bust. Honda Town doesn't carry the type of Metropolitan that is moped legal in Minneapolis. If I don't buy a moped-legal scooter, it'll get registered as a motorcycle and then I can't park it at bike racks. If I can't park it at bike racks, then I can't use it to commute downtown, thus saving myself $80 in bus fare each month. If I can't save myself bus fare, then I can't afford to buy a scooter. And look at it! How can you not want one?! I want one. Sigh.

Manic Weekend

This weekend, the Crazy Index rose from Orange is the Funniest Color to Red as the Zit on Your Nose. I guess it really isn't easy being Green.



Adam and I spent Friday night doing something that I can't even remember now. It has disappeared into the midst of the rest of the craziness. We probably went out to dinner...oh, yeah! We went to have dinner at Brit's...no, wait. That was Saturday. I know! We went to dinner over by the Mall of Insanity, and then we went to REI and I bought a fabulous new backpack. This is my fabulous new handbag:




This is my fabulous new backpack (except the black parts are light blue and the dark blue parts are light blue with Hawaiian flowers outlined in dark blue and white):






On Saturday, I got up and went to work at the bookstore at 7:30. I was supposed to start at 8am, but I wanted to get done early. For those of you who have been living under a rock for the past week, the last Harry Potter book came out on Saturday. I knew that being at the bookstore all day was not going to be pretty. I know what the Harry Potter fanbase is like. But even I underestimated exactly how much I would want to beat those fans with the very book that they were buying.


Favorite example of "You need therapy!" fandom: The girl who came up to the register, book in hand, with tears streaming down her face. She told me all about how the first book came out when she was 11, and she's grown up with Harry Potter, and what was she going to do now that the last book is out? What was she going to do?! *sniff sniff sob*


Favorite example of "I love to hate you" fandom: The woman who read the last page while I was counting out her change, and then told me the ending of the book. I am so not kidding. I am so over stupid Harry Potter.


That evening, Adam and I want to eat dinner at Brit's, which was tasty as usual. Then we headed to Patrick's Cabaret to watch our friend Xavier at Queer Boys' Night. Xavier did a beautiful rendition of Love For Sale and a hilarious piece with Mo Perry playing the part of his penis. We also got to watch a guy do a really funny piece as a Southern belle while completely naked (which, I pointed out to Adam was the only other naked man I've seen since we started dating), and we heard a poet reading several poems out of his latest book, and I really thought he was marvelous. It was a fun time, with a bit more nakedness than I was expecting, and I was glad that we were able to go.


Sunday morning we got in the car to go to breakfast, and Becky called. She and Marc were at a wedding with the rest of the Bismark kids, and she was calling to see if they could sleep in our guest room that evening. Yay, guests! After breakfast we hit Home Depot for the makings of a rip fence for the circular saw. We also tried to get decorative vent covers for the dining and living rooms, but we got the wrong size, so no dice there. I spent the afternoon doing laundry while Adam put the rip fence together and napped on the couch. After dinner, I went to a rehearsal for a friend's project and Adam did the grocery shopping and put clean sheets on the beds. Marc and Becky knocked on the door at about 10:30, and we all sat on the porch and had a beer. It was a lovely way to end a weekend that felt like it would never relax.

Some party pix

Hey, remember that awesome party we had on the 4th of July? There sure were a lot of people there. Who were they? I don't know, because hello! We didn't take any pictures. Sigh.



So instead, here are some pictures from Marc and Becky's party at Brit's when they were here! Andy and Christina:







Becky and me, and some weirdo:

Arrow Dog, stylin':

Monday Monday

I just need to gloat for a moment about how awesome my husband is: He brought me Godiva chocolates today just because he happened to be downtown. I win the marriage game!