lasik

The David is getting his eyes lasered today.  I can hardly believe that such a technology even exists.  I don’t like to think about eyeballs in the best of circumstances.  Contemplating the process of cutting a flap in the eye and then zapping around in there with a laser beam… well, just.  Shock.  Horror.  Yuckeroni.

Even though I know it will be fine and that lots of people have done it, it’s still rather terrifying.

The fear aside, I also feel rather strangely about how he just won’t have glasses anymore.  He really can’t see at all without glasses, so they are a real part of his face and I can’t believe that he just won’t have them any more.  This is a face that I’m so used to, a face that I love, and it’s about to change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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how else are you gonna wear a slip dress in January?

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give me a year or five. i succumb to trends.

Skinny jeans came on the scene (again) in 2006.

First I chalked them up as absurd and heinous.

Then I disdained of them.

Then I wondered at their prevalence.

Then they seemed normal.

Then I shrugged them off as being only-for-skinny-people.

And then, five years later, I wanted some.

The first pair I tried on made me laugh out loud at myself in the dressing room.

But I tried on more, with varying degrees of distress.

And then I got these, two sizes larger than I would normally wear, from the Gap.

i sure love having my picture taken

So even though I’m a little sheepish about how long it took me to come around to this trend, I admit it:  I love them.

And the moral of this story is:  you can try to retain your own fashion aesthetic, but eventually, whatever it is that the tweens on The Disney Channel are wearing will eventually worm its way under your skin.  In the mean time, try to keep all that judgmental shunning to yourself.

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a glut of young adult novels

It wasn’t just toffee that I gorged on in this epic time of 11 days off.

My ladyfriend, Caroline, posted NPR’s list of the best Young Adult novels of 2011 on Facebook and it spurred a glorious frenzy of book readery.  And oh, wasn’t it the best thing ever?  I had a bounty of quick, engaging material and no other constraints on my time.  Except for the toffee.  In both cases, it’s all chomp, swallow, mmm, next!

Anna Dressed in Blood is about Cas, a kid who kills ghosts with a magic knife.  He lives a nomadic life with his good-witch mom, tracking down one ghost after another and sending them off into the nether world.  He follows a tip to Canada to find Anna, the scariest ghost of all time.  And she is pretty feckin scary.  There are quite a few gruesome murdery scenes.  Despite her propensity for violence and her dress that is perpetually doused in and dripping blood, Cas falls for Anna, and teenage romance ensues.  The story behind Anna’s death is harrowing and the climax is full of supernaturally suspense.  Reminded me a lot of I am Number Four.

 

Eyes Like Stars was my least favorite of this batch of reading.  The NPR recommendation was actually So Silver Bright, but that was the third in a trilogy called Théâtre Illuminata so I opted to read the first one instead.  The main character is Bertie, a girl who lives in a theater that is magically populated by the characters from every play written.  Bertie isn’t a character in a play; she was dropped off at the the theater as a baby and her story is unknown.  She’s constantly accompanied by the fairies from a Midsummer’s Night Dream and she can’t decide if she’s in love with a pirate (who talks in swashbuckle) and an air spirit (whose clothes and hair are always ruffled by wind and who has butterfly familiars.)  Due to best intentions gone awry, all sorts of chaos ensues and the fate of the theater is threatened.  It’s up to Bertie to save the day and figure out who she is along the way.  Too twee for me.  Also, that’s not how you spell Theater.  Someone should tell that lady.

Puck lives on Thisby, a teeny fictional island of the Irish persuasion.  Every November in Thisby, monster flesh eating horses emerge from the sea.  The men of the island then manfully go catch these horses, train them up for a few weeks, and then race them in a big-deal race that results in a cash money prize and fame.  Cue the age old plight of small-town-ism.  Puck needs the money and she decides to enter the race and along the way, falls for Sean, a 4 year champ of the race.  Sean is very quiet and still.  Where’s Sean?  Look for the still part of the room and there he is.  People get chomped on by horses.  Puck and Sean are very still together.  There’s a race at the end.  Despite the premise of the mythical creatures, most of the story line was pretty ordinary.  Almost Maeve Binchy-esque, what with the Irish small town character stereotypes.  I give this one a pleasant shrug.

Man, do I love a post-apocalypse story.  This one tells about the kerplosian of the volcano in Yellowstone and the ensuing ash, darkness, early winter, and violent yokels that ensue.  Alex is a big nerd-o who was 130 miles away from his family when shit got real and then has to find his way to them.  Society has pretty much gone to hell:  no electricity, phones or radio.  FEMA, rather than being helpful, sets up concentration camps of sort that keep refugees locked up with minimal food and shelter where they slowly freeze or starve to death.  It wouldn’t be Great Expectations without an escaped convict, so there’s one of those, too.  Alex has a handful of run ins with violent types who want to steal his food, but he also meets Darla, who’s much savvier than Alex.  As such things are wont to do, Alex grows up a lot along the way and what says “I’m grown-up” more than a savvy girlfriend?
Definitely a fun read.

I liked this one a lot.  It had a lot of similarities to The Hunger Games:  a dystopian government born out of a people who want to recover from too much war, with a heroine full of butt-kickery.  This society is broken out into 5 factions, the Dauntless, Abnegation, Amity, Erudite and Candor.  Beatrice is born into the Amish-like Abnegation, but struggles with their extreme culture of selflessness and on Choosing Day, she chooses the Dauntless instead and changes her name to Tris.  The Dauntless are all about bravery, signified by wearing all black and having tattoos and piercings.  They also really like to jump off of stuff, like buildings and moving trains.  Tris learns, though, that she’s not really just Dauntless, or just Abnegation, she’s got varying amounts of everything, and this makes her dangerous to her government.   She has to keep her “divergence” a secret to keep the government from being out to get her, but in the mean time, she’s busy falling for her mentor in the Dauntless lifestyle.  And it turns out that this plan to keep people strictly in the lifestyles of these five factions is not working out, thus things start to crumble.
There’s a sequel to this book that I wanted to start reading immediately, but it turns out that it won’t really exist until the future and that I could only *pre* order it.  Which is malarky.  Who wants to preorder something?  Just give it to me!
Anyway.
Divergent was good enough that I definitely wanted to read more if I could have.

And finally, this book wasn’t really on NPR’s list, but it was a runner-up on Amanda’s 12 Favorite Books of the Year, and that was plenty of reason.
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children was neato.  There’s a cast of X-men like characters, who are trapped in time, trying to stay safe from the muggles and other more evil predators.  The story is illustrated with creepy vintage photos.  We learn about the peculiar children through Jacob, another dorky teenager, who has a special relationship with his grandfather.  Grandpa dies a grisly and inexplicable death, which sends Jacob into a bit of a spiral of crazy and on a trip to a tiny island off of Wales to get to the bottom of stuff.
I’d definitely recommend this one.

 

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proceed with caution

I am concerned that sharing the following may be irresponsible.  If this causes you to lose the same number of life hours that I have, then I will be definitely be ashamed-slash-delighted.  But I’ve spent 83% of my eleven day staycation playing Tiny Tower.  How could I not write about it?  It’s become meaningful and important in my life.

Tiny Tower is a sim game, a sort of game I am not generally wont to explore.  In fact, I’m not much for video or computer games at all.  Not counting that stint with Dark Age of Camelot.  But I’m not counting that.  Seriously.  Let us never speak of it again.

Right.  Tiny Tower?  You build a tower of stores and apartments.  Little people buy stuff, you earn money, you buy more floors.  People with varying aptitudes for doing stuff move into the apartments and you employ them in your stores so they can keep the store stocked with roasted duck or a 2 player game of mini golf.

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It takes about 5 minutes to earn enough money to build a new floor in the beginning.  It’s all very exciting.  Yay!  I got a new candle store!
But as the tower gets higher and higher, it takes progressively longer to earn the money to build a new floor and the new floors take longer to construct.

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The little people have dream jobs.  If you have the kind of business that is his or her dream job, then you get all sorts of little bonuses.  And this is the part that I think really drives a lot of the addiction.  If you can just build one more floor of apartments, maybe *those* new people who move in will be dreaming of the jobs that you already have in your tower.  Or your next new retail floor will be the bank that two of your little guys have been waiting for.  But no.  It’s a recycling center instead.

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While you’re saving up your funds to buy the next floor, and waiting current construction to complete, you spend most of your time ferrying little people up the tower in an elevator.  Someone arrives, demands to be taken to floor 27 and you hold the up button until they get there.  It’s thrilling.  Sometimes they even tip you.  And then you’re all “I’m 1/5oth of the way closer to having 1/3 of the money I will need to buy another floor that will be completed some time tomorrow!”

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And so I continue.  Peddling my wares, building new floors, acquiring new tentants.  Holding out hope that my next floor will be the tutoring center that will fulfill all of Kent Neal’s career goals.

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save me from the slugs

11 days off from work.  ELEVEN.  I haven’t had this kind of break since college.

blah blah blah long story; I had the whole time off with no travel plans, no family and no social obligations whatsoever.

I had visions of Biggest-Loser-esque epic workouts to fill my days.  I thought I would clean out and organize the closet-o-despair.  I was going to bake sugar cookies and whole wheat cranberry bread.  And the blog posts!  Oh, the daily posts I was conjuring up!

But it’s turned into a total mollusk slug-out.  Not like sexy escargot slugs.  Like gross, pouring salt all over them on the back steps slugs.

I would gladly accept slugdom if its in exchange for feeling ultra rested and relaxed.  Loafing around in pyjamas for days on end is my utopia.  Except I’ve been staying up absurdly late reading YA novels and playing Tiny Tower on my iPhone and then waking up ass early because I’m ridiculous.

So instead of feeling serene and accomplished, I’m grody.  Like a back porch slug who was beckoned by the golden siren song of or a dish of beer, got drunk, then got salted and had an oozplosian.

 

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the nadir

it’s winter solstice today.  the shortest day and the longest night of the year.

which feels like it should create a sensation somewhere in the range of gloomy to soul crushing.

and yet.

i just finished my last day of work before eleven days off.

i put the last of my holiday cards in yesterday’s mail.

there are tiny white lights on a tree in my living room.  made all the more magical by the big, long darkness happening outside.

that christmas happens at the same time as the year’s longest, darkest night is part of the reason i think people love it so… it happens when we feel a need to gather around the hearth and huddle in the dark.  we feel safe and protected and cocooned up with the people who mean the most to us.  and even though, sometimes, the people we need are not really close enough to wrap up in our cocoons, the efforts we make to send that intention through cards and gifts and phone calls can feel almost as good.

this day.  this day that i woke and went to sleep to in the dark.  this day has as much darkness as there will ever be. and the beauty of recognizing this low point – that this is as long as the night will get – is knowing that it’s only getting better from here on out.

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crudités

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You can serve people an unholy amount of finger foods comprised of primarily cheese and/or bacon, provided you also offer a subsidy of veg.

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if you’re looking back and wondering where 2011 went…

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Filed under the interwebs, Tidbit

dirty mouth

Parenting is fascinating.

I love hearing stories about how people contend with those little hooligans and how parents try to retain control in a world ruled by creatures free from reason and logic.

My experience in parenting is limited to the recollections I have of what my own parents did and what other people tell me now.  And those two things are really different these days.

My brother told me yesterday that he offers “stern advice” when his 3 year old is acting up.  And a coworker says that they just ignore bad behavior until it goes away.

Which is a much kinder and gentler nation than the one me and my brothers grew up in.  But it was all different then and, like a lot of things, there are trends in parenting, I guess.

I am not really sure what my own philosophy will be if I have my own kids, but I do like pondering.  I do know that I have a small sense of pride that I survived childhood in the 80’s, a time when my elementary school principal had and used a paddle and the teachers whacked kids on the knuckles with a ruler.

Not that I ever got any whackings at school.  ‘Cause I was awesome.  And a big nerd.

But I was just thinking about how my dad used to wash my mouth out with soap if I told a lie or used a bad word, and just how absurd of a punishment that is.  Like, who wants to stick a bar of soap into the mouth of a squirmy squalling little minion and try to rub it around in there?  Seems like an awful lot of hassle to me.

Obviously, I was not a fan of this treatment.  It was a major suckage.  But, despite how awful it was, it did little to stop my lying ways or me from calling one brother or another a Yuck Butt.  Once my parents caught on that a Yuck Butt was the highest of insults in our clan, using the phrase became grounds for a mouth washing.

But we were slick and came up with a secret code for how to continue using our own special little curse word unscathed.

We switched it up to Butt Yuck instead.

They caught on to that one, too.

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