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Static for you alone

This could totally be a post about being alone in the big world or feeling the power rippling through the crowds and yet no one else seems to notice, but I am not feeling quite so eloquent and creative at the moment.

Instead, this is a possibly silly post about me and the shopping carts at Costco. Every single Costco I have been to has carts that shock me. Violently. I had a few people actually jump and look at me strange. My hands fly off of the cart handles and I mutter something akin to, “OW!” and “YIKES!!” and “STOP DOING THAT!!!” It is really painful and seems to hit with no warning. I will walk with my legs farther apart (are my jeans causing static electricity?) but it still happens. I will push the cart with my wrists bent back so my fingers aren’t close to the basket and yet when I slow down the cart… *ZZZAAAAPPP!!*  and my hands fly off of the cart again.

I used to think it was the winter weather in Montana. But then it happened in the summer. And in Maryland, and now in the southwestern desert.  . . temperature doesn’t seem to matter. Humidity doesn’t matter. I’m just a magnet for getting zapped.

I nearly didn’t go to Costco, but Little Dog needed his food and I wasn’t going to lug a 45 lb bag of food on my shoulder since I also needed to pick up a few other bulk items.

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Misheard lyrics

First off, hello to the new people that are following my blog. . . I feel special. And thank you for all the likes. It makes me all warm and fuzzy.

Back to topic

Growing up I didn’t know a lot of songs that EVERYONE ELSE grew up knowing. . . I didn’t know 80s rock songs until college. I know my Neil Diamond, Simon and Garfunkel and WAY more classical music than a child should. Want to ask me about The Magic Flute or Don Giovanni or The Flying Dutchman — I can give you a synopsis off the top of my head. But that’s for another entry ENTIRELY.

Needless to say, my husband was one of those kids whose parents love classic rock and other great music. He knows his stuff and I just nod and joke about who is singing what. Tom Petty-esque songs are all sung by Tom Petty. Bryan Adams songs are all by Bruce Springsteen (my dad was convinced he was the one that sang Summer of ’69 for decades), etc.

Below are several (and I shall add to this) songs that I never did hear right until I actually SAW the lyrics. Kid you not.

 

Guns N Roses – Paradise City Axl Rose totally starts this song with “Take me down to a very nice city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.”  

Aerosmith – Sweet Emotion Definitely used to hear the song start with “Need any more shine” rather than “Sweeeeeeeeeet Emooooootion.”  I never thought Steven Tyler could pronounce ‘need’ right in the song, but I figured it was some artistic thing. 

Counting Crows – Big Yellow Taxi (had to look up the song title for this one and also learned it’s a Joni Mitchell song) I always heard “saved paradise, put a fucking light.” Not even joking. I NEVER knew the lyrics until a few years ago. 

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Still awake – word barf session

Even the dog is passed out. . . you know it’s bad when the dog doesn’t even want to stay up with you.

Insomnia is a pain in the butt and something I wish didn’t hit me when my right index finger wasn’t super sore from knitting.  I’d like to go to bed, but the idea of sleep is still something that’s over yonder, in that other room, in the darkness. . . mmmm flannel sheets.

The flannel sheets alone have slowly been convincing me that sleep is a good idea.  I’m sure Bacca, the dog who would rather sleep adorably, would love to snorgle in the flannel sheets.  “Snorgle” is my term for his curling up while leaving a trail of slobber/snot in his wake. It’s also full of paw stretching, chop smacking and yawns. . . which can only attribute to the slobber trail. Snorffles are what he does to your pants leg or hand and then sneezes violently.  What a dog.

So this knitting thing is moving along. Slowly. I’ve knit two hats, the first is pretty much an embarrassment and the second is pretty awesome although itchy. The itch factor is all about the yarn, not all the dog hair that got knit into the hat. . . I hope. (hehehe)  The current hat (#3) is full of trials and tribulations. I’m using a yarn that is way thinner than anything I’ve used before, and the needles are probably one size too big.  In a few more rows I get to learn how to add in another color for a pattern. This could go extremely wrong or very right. It remains to be seen. . .  And perhaps I’ll take pictures.

Speaking of pictures. I need to get back into using my camera.  I did go to the Festival of Lights last Friday and I did take some pictures.  Even a lens with f/ 2.8 isn’t going to be able to capture everything without a speedlight.  Guess I need to learn some flash photography ASAP.  . .

The violin lessons are going well.  At least as well as they can considering I’m not practicing nearly enough.  With all the internal beating up I do about my lack of dedication you’d think I’d improve.  I’m trying really hard and it’s getting a bit easier, but some days I just can’t face those sheets of music.  Hopefully the recital will go well, I’m getting more and more comfortable with my performance piece. . . now to convince my teacher I only want to play ONE piece of music, not two.  I don’t think the hubs can handle much more of ‘Tis A Gift To Be Simple.  I keep hearing Yo Yo Ma’s cello version in my head and my playing is just pathetic compared to that.  It’s good to have a song in your head to try and play as good as, but there’s sometimes when it’s almost hurtful.  You hear this beautiful song in your head and your fingers don’t hit the A or B right and things squeak and you play the D string while you’re trying to transition from A to E (how’s that happen?!?) and it just makes you want to rip your violin book to pieces, because that’s a lot cheaper than destroying the instrument. . . . but it’s your own dang fault and learning curve.
One think I will say about learning the violin — you do learn that the quality of the instrument is vital.  I started out with a cheap eBay violin and student bow. . . and having a nicer instrument is an AMAZING difference.  The cheaper violin setup is still playable and perfectly functional, but it is nowhere near the sound quality and balance of the nicer violin.

And I practice with headphones on. Like sound-dampening ear protection.  It’s a strange sensation but my ears practically scream in pain when I practice without anything.  Earplugs help, but only so far.  Apparently violin players can lose about 6 dB of hearing in their left ear. . . I’ve already noticed a big difference in my ears and it’s only been 6 months.  I always did have super sensitive hearing. . .

 

 

Well, the cut dog is no longer kicking and talking in his sleep, although his years are twitching quite a bit. . . so I think I shall finally hit the hay and see if I can get my butt out of bed at a decent hour.

 

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Behind the times

Today was the first day I used Spotify. Apparently there is now an obvious way to sign up without signing in via Facebook.  Every other time I looked into it, it was FB this and FB that and I just wasn’t going to give that social site another piece of information about me.

The music has been a bit spotty on Pandora. Songs skipping and hearing the same 18 songs loop after loop.  Kind of gets to you after a while.  Ads or not, Spotify is definitely more along my kind of musical options than Pandora.

I’d have more things to say, but I’ve started watching Sons of Anarchy and it’s pretty distracting.  I want to write more in the blog and honestly haven’t had time.

Season 2 of Sons of Anarchy has Adam Arkin, son of Alan Arkin.  Explains why his way of talking is somewhat familiar.  He definitely sounds a bit like his dad and has the same eyes and eyebrows.

Charlie Hunnam is a Geordie lad, but has the WEIRDEST accent ever. It’s like the halfway point between Cary Elwes’ All British and his now All Amiercan accent.  Most of his words are Americanized, but every so often there’s this British pronunciation that pops up.  Like my husband said, the California sun just bleaches the Brit right out of them.  Hehehe

Time to return to the pup snuggles and watching Ron Perlman beat people up and smoke cigars.

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Silence helps

I’ve been trying to write a blog post for a few days now and every time I get started I just run off and do something else.

The wind is currently pushing its way around our house and making things creak and whoosh. It’s nice because it’s about 40 degrees (it was over 50!) so the weather isn’t so cold that I’m bundled up and shivering at each wind whoosh.

In the indoors of our house we’ve started something that we should have done a long time ago. Actually going through some boxes. In about 20 minutes we were both thinking a lot clearer and able to verbalize some thoughts and concerns regarding the next few months. We’ve both been under a huge amount of pressure and it’s made us both a bit retarded when it comes to coherent thoughts.

I’ve also started my photo back ups again. I’m cleaning out my Lightroom catalog which also means cleaning out my computer. I plan on having a system where I only keep the GOOD photos. I have a lot of crap photos and I don’t need them. Some are good for memory’s sake, but they don’t need to take up space on my HD, so they are now on an external drive.  If something happens to them, that will really suck, but you can’t hold on to everything forever. I’m too much of a packrat to say that without cringing though. I want to keep everything forever and in great condition. My Barbies,  My Little Ponies and Cabbage Patch Kids can attest to that.

Perhaps I will donate a Cabbage Patch Kid to my cousin’s new little girl (who has yet to appear, but she’s getting ready to make her grand entrance into the oxygen filled world). I’m trying to find ways to reduce my clutter and reduce the amount of memories that are stored in my parent’s house. I can’t bring myself to say no to a few of those things, but some stuff can totally got the way of the Dodo: remembered, but no longer around.

Cleaning up our clutter is helping the two of us a lot as well.  If we clean up our physical clutter then our relationship feels less cluttered with things to trip and dwell over and we can actually breathe and be happy.  Cleaning up the clutter also makes house cleaning a lot easier and a bit less stressful. I still get all wound up and pissed every time I clean. Seriously, you want me in a bad mood, make me clean. About 30 minutes after cleaning I’m fine, but during the process I’m probably going to hurt someone if they ruin my flow. It’s an anger of both procrastinating so much that things are way more work than they need to be and the frustration that requires some quiet and alone time. Cleaning is a very solo kind of task. If one person is cleaning a bathroom, another one is cleaning the kitchen. You’re both cleaning but you need to be in charge of your own space.

Not sure I can make everything clear, but I’m just going to blather it out on here. . .

 

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Different types

1. Oh my goodness I’m so depressed looking at all these fit people. I will never look like that, please pass the pie.

2. Wow, those are some well toned people. Good for them. *continue with own routine*

3. I feel sluggish, TIME TO GO TO THE GYM!!!

. . . and any mixture of the above.

I’ve been looking at my Pink Eye, Sinus Infection and Fluid-In-My-Ear as a way to recharge batteries and launch headfirst in going back to the gym. Zumba was embarrassing but fun (I don’t like to look in the mirror because I don’t feel nearly as awkward as I look). I think a mixture of Spinning (I can’t wait for the aches from that saddle. . .ow!) and Yoga will be my best bet.  I need to sweat, I need to work on my balance and regain a smidge of my flexibility. I will never be a bendy rubberband, but I can at least feel like I have a few kinks worked out.

Maybe a Sports Massage as well.

Running is something I would seriously love to be good at. I’m horrible at it. Perhaps it is just a matter of mental shoving to get my lazy butt out the door. I’m nervous about my knees though, so I think that I might need to do more gym work and strengthening my quads before I go for the running. My brain gets very jumbled when it comes to working out and it is hard for me to sit still and go, “Okay, now today I really need to do this that and the other. After 15 minutes in a weights area I’m just like, “okay. . . uh. . . I’m bored and don’t know what to do.”

I really wish Bacca was a running partner dog. I don’t trust him and the last time we tried running he nearly killed me by cutting me off, pulling the wrong way and just not listening. It was more a lesson in torquing my body than in getting an actual work out.  He’s a gimpy too, ever since his elbow surgery, so he can’t run for any real length of time. Poor thing. . . Maybe I should just take him to a track and we just run around and around and around and around and around until he gets the idea.  How dull is that?!

Time to let the blather end. . . I’m in a bit of a slump right now and just need to find my energy from somewhere.

Downer post, over.

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Back in time

Netflix has allowed me the lovely opportunity to rewatch some of my childhood cartoons, and those I never watched. A few weeks ago Grant and I sat down to watch Voltron. I don’t remember ever watching Voltron on a regular basis and I definitely don’t remember the characters.  We both nearly fell off the couch laughing when the “Swedish Chef” started talking.  It was hilarious. These anime characters have voices that just makes you keel over in laughter.  As kids we probably never thought anything of it, even though if we’d watched Sesame Street I’m sure we would have made a connection or three.

But I have started watching a show I used to LOVE. . .and I mean L.O.V.E.  This was a “do not miss it” kind of show. She-Ra.  You can’t go wrong. . . with character names like Perfuma, Mermista, Glimmer, Angella, Frostina, Flutterina, Bow, Peekablue, Catra, etc.  They almost beat He-Man’s side kick’s name of Man-at-Arms.  Seriously!?!?  I always thought the names were goofy, even as a 7 year old, but I knew exactly which character was which. They were so easy to remember because their names were what they did.

Some of the best lines ever are in She-Ra too, it’s amazing . . . they don’t even always make sense, and they’re a great way for a kid to insult someone without actually using a ‘bad word.’  For example: Skeletor: Skeletor to King Randor. Skeletor to King Randor.  Come in you Royal Boob!

And there are always the ones that make you stop and go, ‘Really?!?! That’s a saying?!’ For example: Roll me in butter and call me a flounder, that was a close one!

Who SAYS that?!?!?! Seriously.
Anyways, enjoying the trip down memory lane and how much this show actually taught me some sayings and drilled other things into my head.  I’m still waiting for Netflix to get The Popples, Tigersharks, Silverhawks and Thundercats on Instant Queue. . . and maybe The Snorks aka Undersea Smurfs!

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