12.23.08: harrison ford in the cupboard*

joe took great interest in the tree we brought home on sunday (which makes sense, i suppose, since i made him carry it). i thought sister emily and i did a fine (if slightly haphazard) job of draping it with white twinkle lights; they can be rearranged so very easily once the tree is established in the window, and all. instant perfection, she isn't a must. he started grumbling as strand after strand clumped together near the bottom of the tree, though, and thought we should pull everything out and start over, and when we refused, he staged a twinkle light coup and insisted on redoing the whole thing. i made fun of him for being so fussy, but he did in fact do a much snazzier job.

gunslinger xmas tree (4 of 5)

the original plan to use the wee army men i turned into ornaments two years ago foundered when they went AWOL in the hall closet (such a small space, yet so voracious with the stuff-eating; i wouldn't be surprised to learn the moth colony in there has developed a taste for plastic human flesh), so i repurposed the wee rubber cowboys and indians i'd ordered at the same time. they...are kind of politically incorrect when mixed together (which is not to say i haven't placed fake cowboys in sniper positions on the tree above fake braves, and vice versa), but hey. i haven't made any smallpox blanket jokes, and that's what matters.

*anyone else remember the indian in the cupboard books (about a little boy whose plastic toys come to life)? i have a feeling i'd find them wildly offensive these days, but the first few were pretty exciting when i was seven.

12.19.08: intimate waters

alas! i won't be Blogging until the new year (something about corporate upload and a truck), so i can't share my obsession with holiday gift wrapping with the ladymag-public. i can, however, inflict it on you:

cristina's christmas present (1 of 2)

transporting, no? i realize that everyone else got tired of chopping up fashion magazines in the eighth grade, but i still dig it.

we're in the middle of both a ferocious snowstorm (get home safely, jacob!) and a ferocious february close (i don't care how awesome hair dye is, i'm not dyeing my ladyparts purple!*) here; i hope to be out in time to make a big pot of snow day chili, but we will see what we will see. how are you, internets? i hope you're holidaying.

*the scariest thing to swoop across my desk all month, though bidet in a bottle was close on its heels.

12.16.08: ring of fire

(text) 1: what the hell is this?
(text) 2: it looks to me like a cartoon story of a cigarette going on a date.

morality play
12.10.08: während du schliefst

i am neither a big list-maker nor a particularly effective self-starter, but i get all hot and bothered about Gettin' Things Done (and then Recording Said Things) when joe is out of town and i'm forced to amuse myself. what's gone down since he left for mexico* on sunday? well, let me tell you.

(icelandic thrillers and other) reading: abbreviated, as the key to our mailbox went to mexico with joe and i can't pick up our new york (no big loss) or our new yorker (nooo!). i did, however, just finish voices, the third arnaldur indriðason thriller now in translation. this one takes place over the week leading up to christmas - it's about a murdered hotel santa claus, actually - and gives what i imagine is a fairly true-to-life idea of what it must be like to be in reykjavik in december. murder aside, it sounds really lovely: i'm starting to feel like a visit during the off-season (instead of next summer, which was my original plan) might not be the worst idea ever (even though we'd be limited to reykjavik, since domestic travel when iceland is choked with snow is not so feasible). it's so much cheaper (though the icelandic economy is in the crapper, airfare from new york is still exorbitant once spring gets going), and we're already going away twice next summer for weddings...but it's hard to justify such a big trip in such a weird economic climate. hold on, iceland! i'm doing my best!

gymgoing: also touch and go, since i'm getting over an especially pernicious sinus infection, but i squeaked out my customary six miles on the treadmill yesterday. our gym has discontinued towel service, for they are cheap bastards, and i discovered that the leetle bit of lung capacity i'm still missing made, as frost would say, all the difference - so in terms of workout-related sex appeal, last night might have been a personal best for me. i'm heading back tonight, but i am not running.

the craft: the stag beetle needlepoint (beetlepoint?) i picked back up last week is tootling along nicely; there is very little on television that i need to absorb this week, so i've been stitching away while listening to jarvis cocker and various scottish bands.** in bigger craft news, i was seized last week with the unexpected urge to pitch myself as a lifestyle expert and, after doing circles around our building with furrowed brow, nail-biting over mock posts, checking with our editor in chief, and hunting around for a thumbnail photo that doesn't make me look like an asshole, i'll be Blogging for the ladymag. i'm guessing that i won't make much mention of Blogging here, since the 'champ is wee and personal and i would like it to stay that way, but if you'd like to know more about the site (once it's up and running, probably in a month or so), drop me a line. Blogging, with capital letters and everything! i'm nervous but happy, i think.

*yeah, the missus went to mexico with his folks for the week; after the political shenanigans of the last few months, he's due some rest and relaxation (and has a ton of vacation time to spare). i too have a ton of vacation time to spare - and i love mexican food and the beach even more than he does (especially the beach; he refuses to get involved with the ocean, due to a bone-rattling fear of sharks, whereas if i could figure out how to swim while eating nachos i would never come back to shore) - but we're closing an issue of the ladymag this week, and now is not a good time to look less than utterly committed to print publishing. i told him to bring me a friendship bracelet.

**i used the joe-absence as an excuse to netflix a bunch of stuff he'd hate (come to me, the diving bell and the butterfly!), but see above re: the mail key. he'll be returning to a postal bomb of subtitled sadness.

12.03.08: stopping by woods on a snowy evening

1: you know, some people have coverlets that they put over their beds during the day to catch cat hair and things. we could do something like that for barf.

2: like a tarp.

1: i was thinking more like a blanket.

2: we could get some rubber sheets.

1: you want rubber sheets? you want the cats to sleep on a rubber sheet?

2: [...]

1: "fetish."