Tag: Friends

Books, Friends, Humor

For My Future Spawn: Guest Post

A treat for you today, minions, a break from me!  Wait…  Anyway, a longtime friend from freshman year of university is posting today about required reading for her spawn.  Hillary is the proud mama of two boys and just announced she has another baby on the way, so she’s clearly much further along the spawning process than I!  If my kids turn out half as cute and fun as hers I’ll consider them a success.  You can find her writing here.

Calvin and Hobbes is by far my favorite comic strip. I put it on my “required” reading list for my kids, but I highly doubt I’ll have to twist arms to get them to read these books.

Calvin captures so much of the imagination of childhood. He spends much of his time romping through the woods (or wishing he was) opening up whole different worlds with his mind as only a child can. His stuffed tiger, Hobbes, we all know is a real tiger and it’s only his parents and others that don’t understand that reality. Who didn’t want a pet tiger like Hobbes when they were growing up?

Calvin philosophizes about life all the time and uses language far too advanced for his 6 year-old brain, especially since he tries his best not to learn in school. It wasn’t until high school that I learned that Calvin and Hobbes were named after the philosophers John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes, respectively.

Calvin plays pranks on everyone-his parents, his neighbor Suzie, Hobbes, and occasionally his classmates. Things we probably all thought of doing as children but never dared to actually attempt.

He creates monstrous and clever artwork out of snow. This is my favorite part (maybe because I never lived in snow as a kid).

Calvinball-a game where the only rule is you can’t play the same way twice. Brilliant.

One of my favorite reoccurring stories throughout the series is Calvin’s transmorgrifier/duplicator/ethicator/time machine box. It’s simply a cardboard box that he scribbles on and then it does whatever the words on the box say. In this box he is transformed into a tiger, visits the age of the dinosaurs, duplicates himself so he doesn’t have to go to school, and even creates his “good” side.

Despite Calvin’s prevalent mischievousness, he has a softer side that sometimes comes out when he finds an injured or dead animal or when he realizes Christmas morning that he has nothing to give Hobbes.

The comic also grows with you. I understood it much differently as a kid than I now do as an adult. I must add, now that I’m a parent of two little boys, I have much more sympathy for his parents.

I love that he lives a normal childhood, went to school, shirked homework, got into mischief, and just enjoyed being a kid. I think that’s what makes it such a great comic because so many people can relate to something in the strip. It makes me reminisce on all the things I did as a kid (or wish I had tried).

Calvin and Hobbes opens up childhood imagination, introduces a wide vocabulary, mixes in philosophy and art, and it’s just good writing in a form that kids (and adults) love reading. That is why it is required reading for my children, though perhaps I will not let my boys read them until they have a little more sense than does Calvin.

Friends, Humor, Travel, Weekend

The Play’s the Thing

“Lord, what fools these mortals be.”
– William Shakespeare

The Shakespeare Festival was delightful as always!  Margot, Wrench, J., and I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and enjoyed every minute of it – a fabulous production!

But it must be said, this vacation wore me out.  Hours of driving (though J. took care of that), ridiculous desert heat that meant we couldn’t be outside for long (me especially since I overheated stopping at a gas station to refuel!), and the brief scare of our Check Engine light turning on in the middle of bleeding nowhere.  Late night conversations, movies, entirely too much ice cream and candy, and way too much money spent eating out.  All very fun, no doubt, but exhausting just the same!

Yesterday was an academic break which meant I didn’t have work, so I tried to repair damages to my house as best I could.  But in spite of a load of laundry, two dinners made and frozen for the coming week, the whole house vacuumed, dusted, the kitchen cleaned, the floors all mopped, and grocery shopping, I didn’t get half the things on my To Do List done.  By the time J. got home I threw my metaphoric hands in the air and we escaped the remaining chores to go see Harry Potter 7.2 before crawling into bed.

How was your weekend, kittens?

Friends, Humor, Life, London, University, Work

Brief Dispatches

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my life story.”
– Elvis Presley

Some of my friends seem to have gone completely round the twist lately, and not one has been able to satisfactorily explain their strange, sad, pathological, or just flat out bizarre behavior.  I’m baffled, kittens.

Dear police officers who have had all year to complete 40 hours worth of training: no sympathy.  I’ve sent you quarterly updates of your training records and multiple emails this month alone reminding you that I’m turning everything in at the end of the week, your sob stories about how you never knew you were 39 hours short will not fly here.

Sweet merciful chocolate, J. starts grad school three months from tomorrow!

Sweet merciful chocolate on a stick, we still have so much to do…

I have stayed up late every night for a week now, in a unprecedented attempt to prove that I am not a dull, matronly, boring old married woman at 25.  The net result is that I’m near psychotic from sleep deprivation and have never used so much  concealer in my life.  I r adult now, k thnx bai.

We are smack in the middle of the busiest work week of the year preceding the busiest work day of the year, the 4th of July (which includes but is not limited to VIP performers, parades, marathons and 5ks, street festivals, massive firework displays, and the gradual wearing down of any and all patriotic feelings on the part of our department staff as we deal with screaming children, patrons livid with the parking situation, traffic accidents, any amount of petty crime, and 48 hour work days).

My birthday just keeps on going!  Celebrating it with various friends and family took up about a week and I milked every day of it (Can’t do the laundry, it’s my birthday!  Can’t save that baby from the pack of roaming wolves terrorizing that burning building that was started by the earthquake, it’s my birthday!).  Last night I got the probable last of my belated birthday present…just in time for my anniversary on Friday!

Seriously…I’m so tired right now…  Ladies from the parish are coming by this evening, I should probably clean the flat and not take a nap.  But…

Visa applications can be submitted starting tomorrow, but they probably won’t be completed seeing as I have to be at work until 9pm prepping for the dratted 4th of July.  Freaking colonists and their freaking independence…

Oh dear, do I have anything for dinner?

We’re really moving in just about 2 months.  Please hand me that paperbag and ignore any sounds of angst that may escape my muffled mouth.

We’re really moving in 2 months.  London!

Friends, Humor

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bath Products

“Bath twice a day to be really clean, once a day to be passably clean, once a week to avoid being a public menace.”
– Anthony Burgess 

Picture this. Falling on me.

In preparation for our move I’ve started turning out my cupboards and have been rather alarmed to find the amount of scented, moisturizing, exfoliating, glittering, soothing, plumping, firming, sculpting, finishing, polishing, masking, accentuating, and any verbs I may have forgotten products that have been stashed away.  I’m female and even I’m baffled by this hoard.  A billion years from now, if the aliens landed and unearthed the fossilized remains of my cabinet, they would be forced to conclude that the human race must have been the most terrifyingly malodorous, unhygienic species to have ever been set out wandering.

Girls do this, buy each other lotions and bottles of nuclear colored stuff.  Which in and of itself is fine, because the trouble isn’t quality, but quantity.  When you have some sort of major life event to celebrate and a host of friends just as academically poverty stricken as yourself, this gunk is an excellent present choice for the giver…but not necessarily the receiver.  And, despite your best attempts at regifting, it does tend to pile up.  I usually get the best products from my close friends and godmother/sisters and the rest goes straight into a pile to be bestowed to the next friend having a birthday.  Even if I showered three times a day, I could not work through the armfuls of creams, perfumes, etc. that have just been unearthed from my closets.

And lest you think I’m some sort of skinflint, yes I buy real presents too, I’m just not one to pass up the opportunity to get rid of some of this overabundance.  It was a a thrill to ship a ton of this stuff off to Snickers not but a couple months ago…where on earth did this secret cache come from?  And does anyone want some of it?

Friends, Humor, Travel

Travel Wisdom – AbFab
Be an On Purpose Tourist

“Decide beforehand what you want to spend your money on. Do you want to eat like a queen and spend all your money on food? Do you want to see a lot of shows? Do you want to visit all of the tourist spots? Do you want to travel, or stay in one spot? and so forth. If you pick one thing to focus on then it is easier to justify spending in that area and easier to convince yourself that you don’t need the other things.”

– AbFab, who after her travels as a student put her knowledge to good use as a military wife.  For the best time in the UK she recommends Ireland and the Lakes District, get outdoors!

Friends, Humor, Travel

Travel Wisdom: Scarlett
Go native.

“Assume you’ll need to adapt to local things unless you want to spend way more than necessary!  When I moved to the Caribbean, I found that food and toiletries and clothes (even the fully-non-brand name variety) were all two to three times more expensive than the States.  On the other hand, if you learn to live like the locals, you’ll save quite a lot: for example local fruit (and rum!) was practically free, and local bakeries and goat dairies were cheap.  One of my roommates was suspicious of everything not imported from the States and spent WAY too much money; I risked the local route and not only saved but got a much more interesting experience.”

– Scarlett, who has not only lived and done volunteer work in the Caribbean, she also applying to do more in Rwanda.  Fingers crossed!

Friends, Humor

With Age, Wisdom?

Email chain twixt Scarlett and myself about our then-impending birthdays, but two days apart.  I’m 25 today, a full quarter century.  Many happy returns/Condolences!

Scarlett:
So PLEASE tell me I am not the only one freaking out here about our impending birthdays.  25 is PETRIFYING.  the last hallmark before “Qualifies for Senior Discounts”.  The end of the “18-24” check-box.  The end of pretending you’re sort of maybe still a “young adult” and can justify things like hitchhiking and trespassing and running around on roofs and switching jobs every six months because you’re still kind of college-aged and therefore still kind of post-adolescent and therefore still kind of justifiably enjoying your youth.  25 is “No More Excuses For Not Having Your Merde Together”-Land.  It’s doom and destruction and HOLY LORD I AM HALFWAY TO FIFTY and I Am Actually An Adult And Need To Start Behaving As Such.  It’s like AGH HOW AM I NOT PUBLISHED YET AND WHERE HAS MY LIFE GONE AND I HAVE BEEN FREAKING OUT ABOUT GETTING OLD SINCE I WAS ABOUT TO TURN *FOURTEEN*, SO THIS IS DIRE!  And knowing that for every year after this I’ll be begging the fates to be “only” 25 again.

Oh the problems that come with living in America.  Such a tragic and difficult life I lead, with so many real and legitimate problems!

Enjoy your last days of youth…

C.:
Sorry, beloved, I did this particular freak out when I got married at AGE TWENTY-THREE and WHAT AM I THINKING?!  I have to be a Real Live Grown Up now, what the hell – what do you MEAN a 401k plan?!  However, to be fair, the “AUGH HOW AM I NOT PUBLISHED YET AND WHERE HAS MY LIFE GONE” I can totally relate to.  I think I’ve just decided to (in public) age gracefully and act as childish as possible in private.  So far it has served me well.  I don’t mind going to a new age grouping as I suspect that I shall never have my merde together, no matter what age I am.

Scarlett:
I laugh at myself on this point as well.  It’s odd because part of me relaly doesn’t care, in terms of how society-at-large tends to freak out about aging…it’s just the not-published/waste-of-life thing that freaks me out!  I seriously remember (as I’m sure you recall as well) running around school like a crazed person on my 14th birthday.  Having spent my childhood DESPERATE to be 13 because TEENAGERS WERE SO COOL, I was completely unable to deal with being 14 because it sounded “too old to be a child prodigy” and I hadn’t written a symphony or been published yet.  Oh, 8th-grade Scarlett, if only you knew how LITTLE you would actually accomplish OVER THE NEXT 11 YEARS.

C.:
I remember dying to be a teenage and then realizing it didn’t feel too different from being a pre-teen.  My aging angst died at that moment.  I realized that some people spend their lives racing to be a certain point and they dedicating the rest of their lives to staying at that point, and it frankly seemed more than a little ridiculous.  Ah, pseudo maturity!  How I shall abandon thee when the wrinkles come!

How I see me and my friends fifty years from now. We'll look like the Queen, but wear higher heels and use (probably) less fragrant language.
Friends, Humor, Work

The End of the World – And I Feel Fine

“And after this there is void.  Absolutely nothing…except, of course, for the sweet trolley and our fine selection of Aldebaran liqueurs.  And now, at the risk of putting a damper on the wonderful sense of doom and futility here, well I’d like to welcome a few parties.”
– Douglas Adams

Barring those who have, in fact, been living under rocks you will no doubt be aware that according to some, the End Times kick off tomorrow.  Sorry about those brand new, still green bananas you bought and the fact that you just cleaned your house.  I, for one, am disappointed.  Where are the zombies?!

Editor’s Note:  Here they are.  In theory.  I wish more survival classes had been taught with a dash of humor.

In any event, no I am not one of those who thinks the world will collapse into the screaming blackness of nothing tomorrow morning.  But it’s a slow day at work, minions, and so Wise and I banded together and sold Susie on the idea of an End of the World/Zombie Apocalypse/It’s Friday party.  Cupcakes provided.

Anyone have a good “End of the World” story to share?  Here’s one.  My family never freaked out about Y2K and generally found the panic rather funny.  A couple neighbors tried to warn us of the perils that awaited (some religious, some not) but we politely thanked them for their concern and went along as usual.  The evening of December 31st, my parents went off to their normal New Years’ Eve party and Peregrine came over to help me babysit my siblings.  After they’d gone to bed we stayed up watching old monster movies (Godzilla featured heavily) and black and white films.  When midnight came we annoyed all our neighbors by running into the yard and shouting, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Then, quite suddenly, there was a massive, crashing roll of thunder right over our house and a crack of lightening.  We glanced at each other.
“D’you think…?”
“Nope.  But…”
“Back inside?”
“Yes!”

See you Monday, kittens.

Friends, Humor

Romantic. Comedy.

“It must be exhausting to be you!”
“It’s a living.”
– C. and Margot

It is a great thing to have friends who are not just wonderful, but wonderfully interesting.  Take Margot.  We work out together three times a week during which we have deep conversations, rant about our frustrations, swap recipes, plan parties, debate politics, discuss religion, trade books, and do our best to absorb tidbits of life wisdom from each other.

We also spend an inordinate amount of time dodging her would-be suitors.

This + PhD = Margot

Margot has this amazing ability to turn men into stricken puddles of hormones at her feet – without trying in the slightest.  And with good reason!  She’s frighteningly funny, devastatingly intelligent, both pretty and charming, has eyelashes about an inch long that flutter just so, and gorgeous masses of blonde hair.  Boys trip over their own feet to talk to her.  Which, as you may imagine, can make things a bit congested on a jogging track.

Last night a very nice, very eager boy who met her once about a year ago and has been smitten with her ever since, accosted us on our workout.  He seemed harmless enough so we struck up a conversation in which she took the lead, and I hung back and let the boy have a go.  I was too busy chuckling at him to realize that five minutes in she had skillfully maneuvered me between her and her gallant.  When I did catch on and tuned into the conversation, I understood why.
“And this plays into my theory that nothing in life is free.  Take Facebook, it’s a classic philosophical example of the interconnectedness but inherent loneliness of human life!  Did you see my latest status update?”
“No…” Margot said politely, as she couldn’t very well say that she didn’t even know what his last name was, or confirm they were in fact Facebook friends.
“It was about this very theory!  I explained it all!  Of course, this probably stems from my many romantic failures in high school.  This one time…”

A half hour later she threw me a look of desperation so we politely excused ourselves and ended our jog early.

The truly funny thing about this incident for me is that it is, approximately, the 4073rd time it’s happened.

Friends, Humor, Weekend

Another One? But We Just Revolted 50 Years Ago!

“No, I won’t do it!  I’m revolting!’
“…I know what you’re trying to say, but you should know that’s not how it’s coming out.”
– Georgie and C.

Once a month J. and I get together with Angel and Hotty.  Hotty and J. are both from the City and were in Korea together at about the same time, although their paths didn’t really cross until they married Angel and I (respectively), but now we’re the coolest foursome of Couple Friends you ever did see.  We watch movies, treat each other to our favorite restaurants, and generally pal around.  Every once in a while one of us scores a deal and we all get to partake.

Last Friday, for instance when Angel got four tickets to the musical A Tale of Two Cities.  A night out at the theatre, good company, but no I wasn’t entirely transported.

Let's face it. It's hard to make this sort of thing enjoyable.

Why?  Because while I was sick with the plague I watched Les Miserables in concert for its 25th anniversary, and had just listed to the soundtrack of The Scarlet Pimpernel a couple of days earlier.  I like my French revolutions with either A) delicious foppery, or B) soul wrenching redemption.  You simply can’t beat the humor of The Scarlet Pimpernel, or the power of Les Miserables – fun family fact, Les Mis is the only musical to ever have made me cry.  Kiri and I watched it at the Queen’s Theatre in the West End and wept.  Buckets!

J. played along although he isn’t as big a fan of musical theatre as I am and made stereotypical American comments stereotyping the French.  Although I will grant him, they really never got their whole revolutionary act together (any sort of cultural event that gets lovingly nicknamed the Reign of Terror can probably be labeled a failure).

In any event, it was too like Les Mis for me, despite the totally different revolutions.  The downtrodden rise up, and it ends badly.  The most standout characters are villainous (In LM the Thénardiers, in ToTC a graverobber and his cronies).  Main character is a man who has changed his name to escape his past and is continuously running from it.  In both plays the characters are driven to their various acts of self-sacrifice for the love of a little girl.  Etc., etc., etc..  Oh I enjoyed it, but like I said, not entirely transported.

Probably because I strongly dislike Dickens…