Family, Friends, Humor, Weekend

Ring-a-ding!

“Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.”
~ Albert Einstein

What a weekend!  I’m still getting over this cold, and therefore still a bit fuzzy in the head, but here’s some news for you:  Margot and Wrench, and Drill and Trixie got engaged this weekend.

To one another respectively, not collectively.  We’re not that weird a family.

While we’re on the subject, one of my dearest guy friends Flyboy also recently popped the question to his longtime love.  Love is clearly in the air.  Congratulations everyone!  It’s going to be another filled up summer for me, weddings and J.’s graduation, and trips, and life.  It may be the winter doldrums (and it certainly could be the fact that it’s a groggy Monday), but I’m anxious for the summer to come.  It’s going to be a busy one and I can’t wait because for all I complain, I really love being busy!

(Also, check out Margot’s hardware, courtesy of her sister.  Can we all say, “Well done, good sir!”)

Humor, Weekend

And Where is My Lady’s Maid, Pray?

“Upstairs?  I didn’t know we had an upstairs.”
– The Corpse Bride

There is a pestilence lurking over the house of Small Dog, my pretties.  Margot came down with it first, I’m suffering through it now.  We’re as perky as swollen glands, sore throats, and drippy noses will let us be.  Luckily she’s on the mend as her charming gentleman caller came into town to take her about for Valentines Day, but I write this to you from a bed of pain and a highly drugged state.

Here’s some humor to make us all feel better, courtesy of the ever fabulous Pinto:

Humor, Husband, London

The J. Files V

“Gentlemen never wear brown in London.”
– Lord Curzon

I’m neglecting you, darlings, but it’s an unaccountably busy Thursday.  So here’s some pictures of the weather in London, which is also rather unaccountable in that it’s freezing cold, courtesy of J..  Remember, we are not jealous or sad, we are very proud of him.  Aren’t we, kittens?

The London House (I shall continue to refer to this shared student hovel as a grand town residence for the sheer snobbish fun of it).
A rather dashing gentleman at Piccadilly Circus.
Humor, Law Enforcement, Office, University, Work

I’ll Have the Usual

“This guy’s insane.”
“Well, he thought he was the subject of a secret government mind control project. As it turns out, he really was being given daily doses of LSD for 11 years.”
“Well, in that case he looks great.”
– R.E.D. (2010)

It’s going to be one of those weeks, minions.  Know how I can tell?  Because Lt. South came to me and started a conversation in this manner: “Remember this guy?  The one who we arrested naked in the sauna and who tried to set fire to the student center?”

Keep off the drugs, kids, they get you banned from respectable universities.

Friends, Humor, Movies, Weekend

Bump in the Night

“So, was it [the movie ‘The Woman in Black’] good?”
“Well, yes, in that I refuse to go outside to do the laundry now because it’s dark.”
– J. and C. 

I have remembered why I don’t regularly watch scary films. Quite enjoyable, but the reviewers who said it wasn’t creepy are lying.  Also, surely we can all agree on a few basic truths when confronted with the paranormal?  Angel and Margot, with whom I saw the film, and I all came to some suggestions:

If the house is supposed to be empty and someone (or something) is in it, leave.

If there are banging and screaming sounds coming from upstairs, don’t go up.  And certainly don’t keep going up over and over again.  (Idiot.)

You can’t fix crazy, in this world or the next.

Children never, ever do frightening/dangerous things in unison, it’s a bad sign (have you seen ‘The Shining?’).  Avoid such young’ins.

If all the locals warn you not to go somewhere, burst into weeping at the sight of you, cross themselves, etc., listen to their Cassandra-like croakings and don’t go to the creepy house.  Locals know things like that: best restaurants, good inns, places that could lead to a loss of soul or life.  You know.

Dilapidated manor houses where multiple deaths have occurred, surrounded by unwelcoming family graveyards, on virtually unreachable islands with no hope of rescue are bad news.  Pick a different vacation spot.

Harry Potter's work as an Auror depicted.
Humor

Stalling

“Easy reading is damn hard writing.”
– Nathaniel Hawthorne

Kittens, don’t you hate it when you’ve got this semi-serious topic kicking around in your head and you want to write about it, but you also want to deliver it slathered in the usual amount of humor and hyperbole and the little gray cells just don’t seem to deliver?  It’s been one of those weeks.  After some mocking and some adulation, I wanted to sit down with you, pour you a cup of tea and ruminate, but the words won’t come.  Writers block: the bane of my Friday.

Anyway, here’s a end of work week linkstorm for you while I collect my thoughts:

Former slave’s letter to his former master – oh snap!  Also, here’s some information  on what became of the emancipated family.

A very cool (if you’re a nerd like me, which let’s face it, many of you are.  It’s why we are friends) video on Shakespearean productions done with the original pronunciation.  English is such a fascinating language to me: it sounds totally different from century to century!  Also, does anyone else find the deeper, more guttural pronunciations surprisingly sexier?  Just me?  Let’s move along…

Although, here’s a link to demonstrate what all those centuries of tinkering may have done to the language…

In political outraged news, seriously?  Seriously? Surely there was something else more deserving of your attention!

Let’s commemorate Facebook’s new IPO status with some humor shall we?

Lastly, words (even millenia of changes in pronunciation)  cannot express the deep desire I have to possess this quilt.

Humor, Weekend

Past and Future

“What is a weekend?”
– Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham

I spent the weekend playing with Catriona and Bear (who were in town from Florida), scouring the local library’s annual book sale and donation drive, cleaning, shopping for a birthday present for my niece and a just-because present for Marie, baking, and watching Downton Abbey.  I have thrown up my hands in despair at all of the characters besides the indomitable Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess.  I have decided that I am going to be her when I’m old.  Although I have heaps of other characters and personalities to try on before I get there.

So fabulous it hurts.
Fun, History, Humor

Nomenclature

“Puritanism.  The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.”
– H.L. Mencken

Recently, for reasons far too ridiculous and complicated to explain, Scarlett and I have a bit of an inside joke ending emails and phone calls with some sort of admonition followed by, “or God will smite thee.”  Have a good day, or God will smite thee, etc.  It’s silly and stems from a midnight conversation when her flatmates were getting drunk and crowding up her New York flat so she hung out in the hallway and called me up to chat until they descended on Greenwich Village.   Many an inside joke has found it’s birth in such events.

Anyway, it put me in a sacrilegious frame of mind, so these Puritan baby names made for a good Friday afternoon read.  Let’s have a look at some of these poor parenting choices and make a few guesses on how the Early Modern era panned out for them, based on their unfortunate epithets:

I disapprove strongly of this frivolity.

Wrestling Brewster, I can only surmise, turned out to be the dame school class bully.

Kill-sin Pimple, to no one’s surprise, ran off to live in the woods and found happiness among the Iroquois.

Continent Walker, a great colonial explorer.  Annoyed his relatives by insisting on dressing “in the manner of the heathens” in the privacy of his own home.

Preserved Fish refused all pickled food for the entirety of her life.

Anger Bull was unfortunately prone to fits of rage at the sight of red flags.  Laudanum helped.

Magnyfye Beard was appropriately enough, one of history’s earliest hipsters.  His whiskers were the pride of the early cavaliers.

Hope-still Peedle.  Pessimist.

Weakly Ekins: picked on in school.  Probably by Wrestling Brewster.

If-Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou-hadst-been-damned (known familiarly as “Dr. Damned”) Barebone, never really understood why his medical practice never did very well.  Scraped by as a body snatcher for the burgeoning field of anatomy and made many, sadly unrecognized, contributions to science.

Let’s play a game: pick a name, submit their life story in three sentences or less.  Winner get applause and acclaim from the minion coterie.  Off you go.  (Or God will smite thee!)

Home, Humor

Upsetting the Natural Order

“A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence, but doesn’t climb over it.”
– Arthur Baer

The building that contains my flat is typical student digs: old, in less than mediocre shape, and seldom improved or upgraded in any way (see my 30 year old furnace).  But it sets itself apart in one way: the landlord prefers to rent to young married couples and the occasional small family.  His logic, not entirely unjustified, is that couples and families are more likely to treat the place as a home rather than some dump you rent for a couple of semesters before moving on and mostly likely leaving a substantial amount of damage behind.

As a result, a sort of culture has sprung up in our building.  People are largely quiet, go to bed early, take pains not to annoy one another.  Many of us are done with school, finishing up internships, or generally in the transitional stage that comes after university when one gets a Real Job, but is still laughably poor.  There are rare cases like My Lord and Lady Stompington, but when they rear their heads, people in the building are likely to mention such behavior to the managers, who in turn mention it to the perpetrators, who in turn usually manage to shape up.  It’s a watered down version of Suburbia, everyone plays by the rules.

That is, they did, until the landlords decided to take a risk and let the flat next door to mine to four younger girls still at university.  Our tranquility is shattered.

The other night I’d turned in and just barely shut my eyes when suddenly I heard one of them start to tune her violin and then practice scales for 45 minutes.  Luckily the couple beneath them just had a baby and was able to invoke the Wrath of Mothers and the performance hasn’t been repeated at night.

Where I used be able to wind down at 10pm, that is the hour they they are just livening up. They crank up their music and have the occasional impromptu dance party.  The opera (at reasonable levels), Edith Piaf, and Ella Fitzgerald, and plenty of indie rock I don’t object to in the slightest – but for the lateness of the hour.  The Miley Cyrus, on the other, I object to strenuously, particularly because of the lateness of the hour.  No one needs to listen to that at 11pm (or indeed ever) with the stereo cranked up.

Don’t they realize that the rest of us are old and boring?!

Grad School, Humor, Husband, London, Sad

Absence Makes the C. Grow Nostalgic

“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.”
~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966

Things I really miss about my husband (all of the time, but particularly this week):

1.  How buddy buddy we are in public and how sickeningly cute he is in private.  One of my best memories of him is from the first year of our marriage.  It was the middle of the night and he woke up for some reason and got out of bed which woke me as well.  But thinking I was still asleep, he leaned over and kissed me on the nose.  Just because.

2.  We had a really great household system: I do laundry he does dishes.  I hate dishes, loathe them with an intensity usually reserved for cockroaches and split pea soup.  With him gone, I am reduced to doing my own dishes, which is a hateful nightly event.

3.  How easy it was to talk to my best friend about my day and hear about his.  We schedule Skype dates and email and chat regularly throughout the day, but it’s not as satisfying as our conversations during car ride home after work..

4.  Cuddling.  We are shameless cuddlers.  We cuddle on the couch, going to sleep, watching movies, talking, you name it.  The most satisfying feeling in the world is his arms around me, and not having it for months at at time makes me excessively grouchy.

5.  Believe it or not, listening to or watching sports with him, it’s ridiculously funny to hear my normally calm, reserved guy randomly exploding with, “C’mon!”  “He was in!”  “Travel?  TRAVEL?!”

6.  His quiet steadiness.  Sometimes I feel like the family tornado, constantly doing something, running, planning, doing until I burn out and collapse on the sofa.  Which is usually when he steps in with a grin and  calmly handles whatever it was that seemed so overwhelming a mere five minutes ago.  No doubt this trait will feature more heavily when we finally decide to spawn.

7.  Doing things with him.  We are really good about indulging one another’s interests and likes.  I bought him tickets to his favorite team for his birthday one year, even though I couldn’t care less about basketball.  He returned the favor by taking me to the opera.  I had Korean food for the first time with him, he went to England for the first time with me.  We’re far more adventurous together than apart.

8.  How helpful he is.  Since he’s been gone it seems like the flat has decided to show it’s age and start to go to pieces.  Cupboards have needed to be fixed, furnaces have needed tweaking, faucets refuse to shut off, oven handles have come undone…the list goes on.  Margot’s charming gentleman caller (Wrench) has been an absolute wunderkind and helped out whenever he visits, but keeping up with a house is a full time job.  Largely doing it by myself is rotten.

9.  Dates.  I have no problem going to movies or restaurants by myself, my alone time is valuable and relaxing to me, but there’s no question that dinner with him is ten times better than dinner without him.

10.  His scent.  His cologne, which I love, is not very powerful, but it lingers.  It still haunts his side of the closet, which packs a powerful punch of nostalgia whenever I open it.  I miss smelling it every day.

No doubt about it, minions, separation sucks.  On the plus side, he’s coming to stay for a few weeks sometime in March or April.  On the plusser side, less than six months and we’re done with school and on to the next adventure!