hotrod’s Neighborhood

F. Terrible.

Ok, so here's last year's real tree:

Not horrible but not great and certainly no Blue Room tree. Did you see the First Lady's tree?!?! It's so beautiful. Like *tear* beautiful. See it here.

Then here's this year's tree:

Hmmmm. I think I still liked the real tree better. I should try to take a picture in similar lighting for a better comparison, right?

to get going in a cold and (slightly) snowy day

goddess bless the DbT.

...because if I have google wave, everyone else in the world has google wave.

but if by any chance any of ya'll been living in a cave, I got eight (8) invites to gwave.  doesn't mean that I know much anything about it.
send me a message here or an email to  mariser(at)gmail(dot)com

later

There are certain pieces of art -- music, books, movies, tv shows -- that click with you in ways that are hard to define. Oftentimes mere words cannot explain the feelings you have for certain things. The heart wants what it wants, right? Though I have tried, I still can't explain what it was about the Wakefield Twins of Sweet Valley that had me entranced for years on end. I can't adequately explain how the music of The Replacements exhilarates me and makes me feel understood and not alone all at the same time.

Nor can I explain why I love Dawson's Creek so much. It's a silly teen drama that I fell in love with when I was much too old to be in the show's target audience. I remember having a great time making fun of my parents who were early-fans of the Dawson's Creek/Felicity night on the WB. Little did I know, three short years later I would be the biggest fan of Dawson's Creek.

It caught me when I was at my weakest. I was working a crap job in Customer Service, living alone for the first time, and fighting a battle with pneumonia where the doctor made me choose between staying in my apartment for 10 days or going to the hospital to rest.

I opted for the home quarantine and it was then I caught my first episode. It was the one where Pacey kissed Joey. That's all it took and I was hooked. I watched the show religiously for the next two years. Then I proceeded to Netflix the hell out of the entire series so I could get the full Dawson's Creek experience.

It didn't end there. Once I moved into Supergenius HQ and had cable, I began to TiVO the show on any time it was shown. I'd watch it every night and it ruled. But then I got laid off in the winter of 08 and by that summer decided that I needed to slash my cable budget. I dropped down a level, saving myself a measly $13 a month (seriously Comcast, are you fucking kidding me?) and thus ended my Dawson's supply. There was much sadness throughout the land.

Over the years I've spent a lot of time debating the merits of purchasing each of the six seasons of Dawson's on DVD. But somehow I always held back, mostly because I am cheap. But then they released the Complete Series as a box set for only $81. I could not resist, and snapped it up immediately.

There was much rejoicing throughout the land when it landed on my doorstep. However, after making my way through 2.5 seasons I've discovered that one of the discs is flawed. It won't play the finale of season 3, which is a very important episode. It is here where Joey makes the decision to ditch whiny, crybaby Dawson and spend the summer sailing to Key West with Pacey.

So, what's a girl to do? I, of course, e-mail customer service at Sony Pictures Home Entertainment whereby I was told to pack up my entire Boxed Set send it to their giant conglomerate and then spend the next three to five weeks with my fingers crossed praying that they return a working set to me.

Perfect solution, huh?

I don't think so. While I am all for sending them a proof of purchase, and even sending back the defective disc for a new one, the idea of just sending something I paid hard-earned money for into the void doesn't sit well with me. And why does it take so long? Three to five weeks? It took Amazon 2-days to get the set to me, apparently it takes the makers of the boxed set a couple of fortnights to get a working product to me.

I call bullshit. 

AverageCats- Your cat is average.

http://averagecats.com/

she is not. get used to it, pal. cats don't sing, talk, drive, or have more than average interest in cheeseburgers. they don't celebrate holidays, recognize special days or use invisible- anything. grow up already.

more average cats doing average cat things

Seriously, there are days like today where I wish I'd flunked out of school and earned my living as a roofer. Sure the job isn't as glamourous, the pay is about 1/2 of what I'm bringing in now, and those hot summer days aren't the most pristine when you need a cold wet cloth wrapped around your neck for 8 hours straight. But there's a certain reward I'm not feeling at the moment with my current job. Take for instance this morning's 4-hour training module on yet another business software package to streamline our data management.

When I was growing up, decorating the tree was like a sacred ritual. Although we never had a set day to set up the tree, when it eventually showed up in the yard, we knew it was close to time. Real trees were the route we always took, on several occasions even going out to the tree farm to pick our own.

We did a little decorating outside the house but left the major light displays to the folks across the street. They were a great landmark when giving directions to our place. Inside, the windows that faced the front got some spray snow and the banisters got some garland, but the crown jewel was the tree. I watched in awe as my mom would transform a plain old tree into a piece of art.

There were two key components to the tree: bubble lights and the chirping bird. Bubble lights are straight 70s and they rock so hard it should be illegal. Can you imagine that bubbly goodness on your tree?!?!

I wish that I could upload sound so you could hear what the product description calls "the joyous sound of a bird chirping".  It's not joyous really.  It's pretty annoying after a while but that never stopped us from hiding it in the center of the tree like it was a little bird's nest.  People were always amazed by it too.  We all just found that to be hysterical.

My mom would decorate and I would hand her the ornaments and as I got older, I was allowed to place some ornaments or add the final touch of icicles.  I believe that I was about 14 or 15 when the honor of fully decorating the tree was bestowed upon me.  No pressure!!  Welcome in OCD.

With this great task upon me, I was so careful to place each ornament just perfectly to try to live up to the standard of trees before mine.  I'm proud to say that my trees were all beautiful.  My tree OCD, however, never left.

Fast forward 20(!) years to current day Christmas where I'm solely in charge of the tree.  For the last three years, we've been buying a fresh cut tree because I love the scent of pine when I walk in the front door.  I'm not so sheltered, though, as not to realize the importance of our natural resources.  This year we bought our first fake tree.

Obviously, I didn't immediately fall in love with this idea nor the looks of the tree when Kiddo and I first started putting it up.  It came pre-lit with various colored lights.  They're bright.  Really bright.  While the family photo albums have already been handed down, the Christmas decorations have not yet.  My tree is without bubble lights and chirping birds.  Sadness.  It is full of pretty red and silver ornaments with some splashes of other color here and there.

What I've learned this year is that fake trees are heaven for those with tree OCD.  It's taken me three days now to finish decorating the tree.  Partially because there's just so much life to take care of outside of the tree, but mostly because of the OCD.  Every ornament must be hanging down perfectly straight.  Yes, I'm off my rocker.  But the fake tree is AWESOME for this!!  If an ornament isn't hanging properly, I can bend its branch or the ones around it to make room!  AHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Also, I need to have the amounts of red and silver be in just the right balance.  Icicles can't be clumpy and have to be just the right amount and spray snow can't be overdone.  I need help.

I am hoping that I will be able to finish the tree tonight and put away my tendencies for one more year.  If I do, I'll post a photo.  I know that I'll never be fullysatisfied with the tree's appearance, but that'll do pig, that'll do.

She whispered, so I had to lean in and then ask her to repeat: "Are you ready for Christmas???"

For one thing, it is December 3rd. That's 22 days before Christmas, and I think putting the ham in the oven NOW might be a tad premature. Also, I only celebrate Christmas because of the cultural expectation to see my family and give them stuff now and then. It's a convenient enough occasion to do so, though I must say the travel would be much easier in the summer.

Surely some bank customers are not Christians... so isn't the assumption that "ready for Christmas" is a state I wish to achieve a bit presumptuous? But I went along with it, as she recounted her gift list status, acting as if I could actually afford to buy gifts this year. But then, before I could get the hell out of there she had to ask, "Do you bake, too?"

Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have on occasion baked things. But this holiday baking subculture is not a part of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it is offensive when someone assumes that just because I'm a white woman in the US I have a baking agenda for December. Well, the bank teller certainly does. I was literally done and backing away as she recounted the six batches of cookies plus xmas morning bread repertoire.

I am really not ready for Christmas.

Besides the obvious financial burden for someone without a real income, I am now sucked in to a North Idaho family extravaganza. If I had work I could claim I could not afford to be in Idaho for a whole week, but as it stands my only possible excuses are sudden illness or a bad attitude.

My cousin (on my dad's side) is paying for a fancy condo on Lake Coeur d'Alene for her mom and sister and their men to stay while they are in St. Maries with her dad's family. There is a sofa bed and free transport for me, but aunt Rosie wants to leave on the 20th and spend one night at the trailer of one of her drinking buddies up in the woods (I'd be on the couch), and now it turns out my mom's family won't be celebrating Xmas until the 26th, when my cousin (on my mom's side) gets back from his wife's family in Montana. And the condo where we are staying is an hour or mor from anywhere on icy, windy roads... and I have to rely on relatives (drunk relatives) to drive me anywhere.

The irony is that neither I nor anyone on either side of my family really cares about celebrating Xmas. Except the cousin who is paying for the condo (she once dragged us to the world's largest Xmas market in Rothenberg, Germany... I had a hangover... we were there for hours).

On the bright side, the condo building has a heated indoor pool and a restaurant with a bar. And I have plenty of books to read.

did it.

Nablopomo 2009 did it

not without help

Nablopomo 2009 vader dit it

Nablopomo 2009 borat did it