May 2007

Will we finish?

That is the big question right now. It’s 8:13 p.m., our 5-minute short film is due no later than midnight, and due to tape failure we had to reshoot the second half of our film at 5:30 p.m. We’ve got a decent rough cut, but still have to add a few cutaway shots, the music, the titles, and a special effect scene. Our motto for this year is “Failure Is An Option.” We almost decided to just shoot ourselves hanging out at the house, drinking wine, explaining what went wrong, and tacking it on to the end of the movie. Instead we did lightning-speed retakes of of eleven shots, and are hoping for a miracle. Wish us luck! Also: CONGRATULATIONS NATE AND YVONNE!!! Little Baby Stull (she’s yet to be named) was born at 8:20 this morning. Both parents are ecstatic and exhausted. Way to go, Yvonne!!!

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Drunk teenagers, hardened criminals, and maintenance men

This evening while walking with Brittney in my neighborhood, we found a wallet in the street. Lots of credit cards, $7 cash, no drivers license, but after a bit of digging we located a crumpled carbon copy of a ticket that 19-year-old “Tyler” had received for minor in possession of alcohol. The ticket had his address on it (a few houses down), and probably explains why there was no drivers’ license in the wallet. We returned it to a stoned and/or drunk but grateful Tyler, who only opened the door a sliver when we knocked, but that sliver was enough to let out the overpowering odor of stale beer and cigarettes. It was a little disappointing in that we thought that perhaps Tyler’s parents might answer the door and ask how we knew to which house the wallet belonged seeing as how there was no drivers’ license therein, at which point we’d gleefully show them the minor in possession citation and Tyler might be grounded until he was 21. Oh well. Last night I woke up rather unpleasantly at 2 a.m. to the light of a police helicopter shining in my bedroom window. The helicopter circled my neighborhood, and specifically my street, for what must have been 30 minutes, shining that zillion-watt beam every which way, on roofs, backyards, side yards. As soon as the helicopter left, we heard voices outside and saw a police car and officers walking down our street with flashlights, looking in courtyards. It took me another hour to get back to sleep. I don’t really mind the disturbance; I’m glad they’re searching so thoroughly for their suspect. It disturbs me, though, to think that there might be a criminal of the caliber that would warrant a helicopter search roaming through my street in the dead […]

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We move like cagey tigers…

Doc and I went to a cat show on Saturday. Our friends Michael and Jill have a Norwegian Forest Cat that they have begun entering in cat shows. I had a preconceived notion of what cat shows were like, and I was none too surprised to learn that it was being held at a convention hall tacked on to a Holiday Inn next to a rodeo arena in Mesquite. I imagined that it would be full of yowling, unhappy cats and their stage-mom-crazy owners who would give off a notable “white trash” vibe. Oh, and that the place would smell like a giant litterbox. I was right on the latter two counts, but surprisingly the unhappy meows were few and far between. Most of the cats had a glazed look in their eyes indicating that they’d long ago given up trying to fight this unnatural lifestyle of baths, back-combing for maximum fluff, eye makeup (I’m totally serious), and manhandling by strangers poking their fingers in their mouths and looking up their back ends. Michael and Jill were a notable exception to this, of course, and their cat (a kitten, actually, at 7 months) was very sweet and a bit frightened at times. When it was Ghali’s turn in the show cage, he was alert and attentive and talkative. I think he won at least one ribbon. We got an information sheet with our entrance fee, which explained in the Junior Showmanship section that “young people are important to the sport of pedigreed cats.” Wait, now: pedigreed cats are a sport? That’s kind of weird, isn’t it? I don’t remember having a Pedigreed Cats team at my high school or anything like that. Also, I find the names the people give their fancy purebred cats rather ridiculous. Coonunnski Teton Cody of […]

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Fuckstripe and other fun things

Office BullshitIt sure has been A Week so far. Some crazy shit going down at work ā€“ a tender young employee in my office fired, and a major crackdown on computer security procedures and professionalism in interoffice communications. Are these events related? If I were to know anything about it, would I even say so? You know, even though I’m pretty sure no one at work knows of the existence of my blog, apart from my two close co-worker-friends, I still hesitate to write in any detail about things that happen at the office. What If, right? Sometimes I hate that I have a “the office” to talk about. I guess part of me always thought I was going to grow up to be a painter or a chef or an author. Instead I sit in a cubicle 8 hours a day like zillions of other worker bees around the world. I shouldn’t complain, I guess; I have it pretty good for a Cubicle Drone. I do get paid to be creative and use my artistic skills, which is more freedom than most people have, even if I do have to do it within the confines of a drab tan six-by-eight foot box. At The DoctorSome of the residual effects of my crazy whacked-out hormone problems last fall included “skin tags,” which are little benign tumors that are raised off the surface of the skin, harmless but annoying. I had one on the back of my neck that gets rubbed and irritated by my necklaces and clothing. Last month at my appointment, my OB-GYN told me to come back and he’d take it off for me. So I went in today to have the one on my neck and another one on my arm removed. The removal was fairly painless, […]

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Crazy fungus

Brittney spotted this crazy glossy fungus growing at the base of a tree this evening. Parts of it look like apricot jam, parts of it look like mushrooms. Mmm…. mushroom and jelly sandwich… šŸ™‚

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Recent photos

Today after lunch I saw a car with a banana peel draped over its door handle: I’ve been playing around with the nightshot mode on Doc’s camera. I like the effect I get when there’s still a little ambient light. My garden is growing! Some of it, anyway. I may not have any tomatoes or morning glories, but by god I’m going to have lots and lots of zucchini this summer.

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Snakes for your pain

No, not snakes on a plane, snakes for your PAIN. I really cannot understand how this would be relaxing to anyone. [C]lients at Ada Barak’s spa in northern Israel can add a wild twist to their treatment by having six non-venomous but very lively serpents slither and hiss a path across their aching muscles and stiff joints …. [the treatments] were inspired by her belief that once people get over any initial misgivings, they find physical contact with the creatures to be soothing.

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Garage sale

Sorry for the two week hiatus. I just haven’t felt much like writing lately. Last weekend we held a garage sale. Mom and Dad, whose house is finally on the market in Houston in preparation for their move to Sequim this summer, brought up 3 vehicle-loads of stuff to sell over the past several weeks. Doc and I had some stuff too, and Brittney and Chris brought a few things over. Kat was sick and couldn’t come hang out, but she did make us the most fabulous purple-painted sparkly garage sale signs. I am certain they drew more business than standard signs would. I’ve decided that will be my last garage sale; they’re tiring and time-consuming and I really hate haggling with people who want to give you five cents for something that you’re asking $3, and which cost you $100 new. However, at garage sales you always meet interesting characters who purchase interesting items, and I make up little stories in my head about why they want what they want. I’ve always thought it would be interesting to be a checkout clerk at a supermarket for the same reason. Anyway, here are two examples of strange people we met: Mom was trying to sell a pair of lambswool nipple warmers (never used! new in package!) that were a gift from a New Zealander friend with a sense of humor. She also had a tiny flip calendar of penis art from around the world and through the ages, as well as a David (Michelangelo’s statue) puzzle and postcard, featuring the most important bit, and various other naughty things. Mom unloaded them all on a lady who was extremely chatty and asked us if any of us wanted to feel her recent lap-band surgery. Feel a stranger’s recent surgery scar? Sure, […]

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