DNEVNOI DOZOR

You know what?

It was pretty good. We didn't plan on seeing it, but we were bumming around downtown (waiting in the ice cream line, to be specific) and saw it was playing at the State. We had the strange occasion to meet a Dutch woman and a Townie Stoner in line for popcorn (see a theme here), and we had a time of it trying to remember/explain the plot from the first one.

The second, though, has a sort-of-followable plot and a lighter tone. We laughed all the way through the shower scene and were hysterical over the Chalk of Destiny.

The CHALK of DESTINY!

It's raining tads...

Hallelujah!

We haven't had rain in so long, and now that we have, there are tiny, tiny, TINY, toadlets everywhere.

They're hoppin' this way and that!

Can you see it?



Boing!

(Boing, boing, boing, boing!)

Not appropriate for yoga...

One of my yoga classmates revealed last week that she worked at Victoria's Secret, and I perked up my ears. I realize now that I'd perked up my ears because I have, um, boobdar, and this classmate had the boobage.

Boobdar means that when I walk into a room, I size up all the boobage:
What kind of shirts will the big-boobed women wear?
How are their bras fitting?
What do they look like when they do downward-facing dog?

In the background, even during our ending meditation, I have one eye on the other boobs.

So, when my classmate revealed that she worked part time at VS, I approached her with my question - how high do the bras go?
Double-D.

Crap.

She sized me up - I don't look as big in person (maybe it's how I stand?). "You don't look as big as me," she said, and lifted up her shirt. And I lifted up my shirt...and we stared at each other's chests, as our classmates continued to put away their mats around us.

So wrong.

(As an aside, I don't think she's right...I tried VS years ago and the lacey numbers unraveled before my mighty presence.)

The outside possibility exists...

I was headed into the Carpenter Road Meijers today when a small handwritten sign made me stop short in the driveway and page Alexis. While I waited for her to call back, I pulled into a spot, and pulled out again, rolling slowly past the sign to confirm before I got us both too excited.

I read her the sign: "4221 Ellsworth Road. IHOP"

IHOP. We have had no IHOPs in all of this time. We like IHOPs. We mark their existence on maps of frequently traveled routes (Exit 29 on the way to Chicago) so that we may use it as a haven in this trudging pilgrimage.

I gleefully assumed that the letters I.H.O.P. could signify nothing other than the pancake house itself. Alexis, however, was more cautious.

"It could stand for something else," she said. "Maybe it stands for the International Hut of Poison."

I had to admit it wasn't impossible.

I think I must be brave...(Alexis keeps saying I am)

Carole invited me to crash the Zingerman's party - even now, three years after working there, nobody seems to question why we keep showing up at company picnics. Paul (one of the owners), still sings my name when he sees me, and Alan, the coffee company guy, took one look at me and said "What, is it Shanukah again already??" Free Pabst, free food, and a bouncy room...

The picnic was in German Park, a private park about 6 miles up Pontiac Trail from our house. We just had to turn out of the driveway and keep going North. I spent about 3 hours this afternoon tootling around our lovely riverside trails. It's true, I have discovered so much just in the last three (!) days of owning my bike. So, even though I was truly pooped, and even though I had showered and dressed in my cutey dress with the pink piping, heels and a sweater, and even though we were already late. I said (I swear the words came out of my mouth): "Let's bike."

It was a gorgeous evening, and a beautiful ride. It was *not* easy for me - rolling hills are deceptively difficult.


Miller time!

(Let it be known that I chugged two beers and when Ann came to announce that they were packing up the bouncy room in 5 minutes, I SPRINTED - ask Alexis if I didn't - and shoved a three-year old out of the way to get in. My former workmates saw me in there bounding about with their children, and before I knew it, three other middle-aged, chunky women were bouncing around with us. Let me tell you - if you have the chance to bounce in a bouncy room, go with adults - the height of your bounce is directly related to the size of the other people landing. That is - bigger people make for a bigger bounce. There was even a slide! I got caught half-way across and started going down butt first with one leg hooked around the netting at the top. In retrospect, I think I was drunk. Anyhoo, when three middle-aged women from HR saw that I went down fine after making such a shambles at the beginning, they went up too. It was a fine time. The guy even let us bounce late!)

Alexis biked into the center of the road to catch a view of me and the beautiful evening sky. It was so incredible, and it smelled so wonderful, and I startled two crepuscular beings: a tiny rabbit and an opossum. It was lovely.

Post Script: What's not lovely are my legs this morning. Wooobly after twenty-two miles - woobly.

What it means to be 33:

You can say things like: Well now, I haven't ridden a bike in well nigh 23 years!


(I am trying not to cry, but I am failing because I'm so scared.)


Alexis trailed behind me documenting the momentous ride...


(I am happy because I'm alive and about to eat champagne and oysters!)

It's on.

Shanukah 2007

After a lovely dinner and a v. large amount of hard cider, I agreed to it.

After all, I did buy all those Lobster thingees last year. I know this is last minute, and you probably already have plans, but, we will be partying in the driveway on June 16th, and your presence, if only in spirit, is greatly desired.

If you're reading this, I probably want you to come - but please do tell me if you are at all able (I need a lobster count, after all).


*Come to see the new downstairs (much improved over last year)
*Come to see people you don't see that often
*Come to see people you see every day
*Come for the lobster
*Come for the fireworks

There's still time for the vodka - I'll start the hot peppers a steepin' right away!

Green Thumbs - clarified!

You know the phrase "green thumbs" to connote innate gardening ability? I've discovered over the last few weeks that it actually refers to the willingness to defend your hard-won roses by squishing hundreds of live aphids between your thumb and forefinger. Their endolymph (runny, runny insides) is green, and when it gets on your fingers...



Furthermore, my gardens and grounds run amok with ants. It's unbelievable how the earth teams with them - huge mounds (well, not African termite huge, but large never the less) spring up on the lawn and between the driveway blocks, and I have to engage in a stick fight with the ants to get them off the peony blooms. I'm totally serious, I have to flick them off individually, and when they land on my foot - they bite and won't let go.