Adorabirds

Play particularly close attention to the one at the far left. For pete's sake, these birds need to cuddle in my arms and go places with me, including work, the bank, and the grocery store.

You da man, Netflix! ("You are too, Phil!")

I opened my mailbox Monday, and there was a Netflix movie. "Huzzah!" I wooped. It was a foreign "film". (Don't you hate when people say "film"? I do, so I'm putting it in quotations to show I don't take the word - or myself - too seriously.) I'm looking FOREIGward to it. (See what I did there?)

(That's not the climax of the story, guys. We're still in "rising action" mode.)

Then I got some email from Netflix about how they couldn't get When Harry Met Sally to me even though it was first in my queue, but they'll try soon. "No worries," I thought, because I'm a laid-back gal.

Whoosh ahead to today. I open my mailbox just like I did Monday and - whoa! - another Netflix treat! And it was W.H.M.S., the same gall darn about which the rascals emailed me! This probably isn't a big deal to you 2-movies-at-a-time richies, but I scrimp. I pay for only one.

So I was like, "Shooooo, I bet I accidentally upgraded." A little clickity clacking on the internet showed me that no, I hadn't upgraded. Netflix was just being a sweetie! They gave me W.H.M.S. just to be the dollfaces they are. (That was the story's climax.)

Now I have extra-strong, positive feelings toward Netflix and I want you, reader pal, to subscribe if you hadn't already.

(That was the resolution. I will try to write more posts in story line format because I want to prove to my students how applicable our lessons are to real life.)

Saturday, Hikerday

My boyfriend is mountainy, and I do a decent job keeping up. Yesterday, Hamble and I took advantage of the freakishly warm February weather and moseyed up to the top of Mount Pilchuck.


Pretty, right? I never feared for my life, and only once was sure I would tumble down a steep, icy hill and become paralyzed in 30-75% of my body. Didn't happen. My limbs remain movey.

Best/only hike of 2010! And probably the top 3 hikes of my life. The plethora of dogs on the trail helped. (If you run into the waggliest brown husky you've ever seen, give him another pat for me.)

Holla' fo' the outdoors!

Next big idea

Remember the tiny whale idea? Like, how you could put some itsy bitsy Humpbacks in an aquarium in a doctor's office? Of course you do. Your collective silence, readers, indicated you were overwhelmed by the thought, in a good way.

Well here's the next one:

Teeny weeny woolly mammoth.

Do you love it? They'd have to be housetrained, of course, and their tusks would need to be dulled, but still. I envision them the size of a cocker spaniel, and just as snuggly as my parents' black lab.

Get to it, scientists.

Magic at Admiral Junction

At 3:00ish, I left for the library. The sun was blarey, so I wore my gray hat. No big deal. I always wear my gray hat.

At 3:10ish, I arrived at the library. I sat down next to an old man who looked like he'd hunt giant squid. He glanced over as I read Time. (By the way, how awful is the new Newsweek format?). I don't know why. I removed my hat and put it in my lap. It fell on the floor a few times.

Then I left the library. I walked to Safeway where I bought two rolls of paper towels, four Pink Lady apples, and a Dove dark chocolate bar (strategically located next to the tampons). Those were the only three items on my list. Self-control while shopping is one of my numerous strengths.

THIS IS WHERE THE MAGIC BEGINS, so don't stop reading. I was at the corner of Admiral and California - Admiral Junction, if you will. I could have gone west or north since my home was northwest. A former student whose name I can't remember was west, so I chose south. As I started to cross, I saw the scraggly, possible squid hunter... with my hat!

OH MY GOODNESS!

He waved to me and said, "You dropped this, and then you hurried out of the library so I couldn't give this to you! I can't believe we actually ran into each other!" Woweewowow. Since we were in the middle of the crosswalk, the cars stopped at the light were probably also enchanted by this moment.

Woweewowow again. Woweewow.

I saw where the guy lived, so I might leave him a cookie or something. I like that gray hat.

Vacation

The Man forced me to take a personal vacation day. It didn't have to be January 28th or anything, but why the heck not? Kids are in the lab, weekend's about to start, it'll do.

My vacation looks like this:
-Talk to the Payroll and Benefits lady. Fill out paperwork. Feel SO EXCITED.
-Set up my retirement plan. (Get ready for my giganto retirement party! June 2045!)
-Research dentists in Seattle. Recommendations? A plethora of magazines in the waiting room is my number one priority.
-Do laundry.
-Play tennis-ball with Solomon the Dog.*
-Try to fix the stink in my apartment. WHY IS THERE A STINK IN MY APARTMENT? Clean the litter box. Light candles. Continue to feel frustrated about the unchanged apartment stink.
-Go to the YMCA. Feel happy there's another Leonardo DiCaprio movie on channel 55. Elliptical to it.*
-Help boyfriend move into his fancy studio apartment.*
-Think about pho.
-Not actually go to pho.*
-Notice how perfectly my hair is flopping.
-Head up to B'ham for what is destined to be one of the Top 10 Weekends of '10 - snowboarding, free popcorn, dancing the night away, book club baby shower, sandwiches.

I'm living the dream, you guys.

*Predicted activity.

R.I.P., Mr. Salinger

But not in THAT much peace, because I hear J.D. Salinger was a jerk. Still, he wrote my favorite book - Franny and Zooey - and exemplified "voice" in writing. Angsty, over-privileged, 15-year-old boys around the United States will mourn the creator of their - yes, their very own, not anybody else's - Catcher in the Rye.

If it's true that he's been secretly writing for decades (the crotchety old man wouldn't share with anyone!) and that his works can be released now that he's croaked, well then color me p-u-m-p-e-d. Expect serious hermithood from me the week after his stuff is released. Hermithood and giggles.

Cheap cheap cheap

I am typing on an oldish, crappyish computer. That used to bother me. "It takes many minutes for you to load!" I'd holler at it. "I am afraid of downloading more music into your computer brain!" I'd scream. But now it's not so annoying, because my renter's insurance is going to be dang cheap.

I don't own much of monetary value, you see. It all adds up - a cat tree here, a lime green ski outfit there - but I'm confident that the collective value of my junk is much lower than my peers.

The most expensive things I own:
-This adorable computer desk: $150ish
-Used mattress and box spring: $120ish
-Precious, speedy bike: $300ish
-Oldish, crappyish computer: now worth... maybe $250?
-Pictures of me looking adoooorable: $100,000ish

My "accept things for free, buy things used" lifestyle is a bargain, and because of this, my renter's insurance is, too. If frugality was a person - Fru Gality, perhaps - I'd hug him for seconds and seconds and then a few seconds more.

The Daily Puppy suggests this week will be adorable.

What's a better combination than chocolate and peanut butter? Donkeys and puppies!

Dubai is a weird place.

Dubai just constructed the tallest building in the world. It's freaking high. It is just under 1/5 the height of Mt. Rainier.

YOU'RE STRANGE, DUBAI ARCHITECTS. YOU ARE WEIRDOS.

Here are other equally ridiculous things the bosses in Dubai could have done:
-Committed themselves to eating one hundred German chocolate cakes a day for twenty-two years.
-Hosted "1,000 people vs. 1,000 koala" race, and then let trillions of robot cockroaches loose to distract the 2,000 racers.
-Looked at NicUnCool for ten seconds straight
-Dug a 900-square-mile hole and filled it with black licorice flavored ice cream, and then topping it with chocolate-covered black licorice bits shaped like house keys and 3-ring binders.

But they didn't. They chose the giant building. I don't know what is going on over there.

Too many goals.

It was the first day of winter quarter. I was filing rubrics. I was setting goals for the quarter.

Goal #1: Be more organized.
Goal #2: Focus on one thing at a time.

But, haha! That doesn't work at all!

Scientists - make this your resolution.

Superman has Kryptonite. Pooh has honey. NicUnCool has Ricky Martin Van Buren Raden the cat. I have ice cream.

Ice cream, you are like... yourself. Your frozen, heavenly, fatty, delicious self. I hate you. And I love you. You make me want you, and then you stick in my fat cells forever. Even Zumba can't cancel you out, and Zumba is an easy to moderate workout, depending on the day.

Now I hear that scientists are working on a healthier ice cream. Don't be confused! It's not good for you, despite what that tricky headline makes you think. It's just less bad. Like how Nicole Richie is less bad than Paris Hilton. Both ice creams will destroy your body, and both NR and PH will destroy your soul.

Scientists, stop half-assing it and produce a frozen, heavenly, nutritious, delicious self. Eliminate "fatty" and other bad adjectives. Create my dream food, already.

2010 - A Year for Ice Cream Miracles