Pig Reading Potter

This is Pork Chop. He is visiting his favourite coffee shop to read the new Harry Potter book. Just like everyone else.

Who is the Half Blood Prince?


Page 1 and Pork Chop is so excited!

Pork Chop loved the book. He even cried at the end, but you can't see the tears because there is no way for pigs to eliminate waste so he will roll around in the mud later.

Hmmmm

I concur. Gross.

P.S. If you scroll to the bottom, you can get all the up to the minute information on Britney Spears sent right to email. Yikes.

Geek Test

I finally got around to taking the geek test, especially when I wasn't that much of a nerd. Or that hip. So I might as well try my geekiness. I am 23.27416 geeky. I think if I had known any programming language, it would have pushed me closer to total geek. Or at least gone to Dragon Con. Ah well. You love me anyway.

Not nerdy, but definitely not hip

Sad.

Link from The Honey

Best.Present.ThusFar.

Mike bought us a king sized bed yesterday. This morning at 3am, we went to Wally World to buy king sized bed sheets. We took them home and put them on our king sized bed. Then we went to sleep in our king sized bed and woke this morning refreshed. Neither one of us had awakened in the middle of the night to complain about who was stealing the covers, or who was taking up my side of the bed or who was making whom hot. It was one of the most marvelous waking up experience that I've ever had. But that headboard... we've got to get that thing fixed!

Mandatory Calvin and Hobbes

Snacks. Such a magic word. I have been known to go along with just about anything for the promise of snacks... and elephants. I don't care about riches, glory, and honor, but if you have a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a pound bag of peanut butter M&Ms, now you're talking. Plus, I consistently find it funny the interaction that Calvin has with his stuffed tiger Hobbes. Enjoy!

Let Freedom Ring

My fourth of July weekend was very eventful. Here I have placed an itemized list of things done that weekend.

Batman Begins: (spoilers, maybe)
I.Loved.It. We were supposed to see it a couple of weeks ago. When we got there, the 9 was sold out. I wanted to go to the 10, but he thought it would be better if we got some sleep, plus I had to make sides for the party after church, so we didn't go see it. I got so mad, that he made a vow that he would not see the movie and he would take not seeing the movie to his grave. He had decided against his vow by the next few days, word of mouth on BB was so good. He thought it was okay. I thought it was the best thing since Frank Miller featuring Batman. The previews made me think Christian Bale might not be the man for the job, but the movie proved he was. The direction was definitely Christopher Nolan, camera angles, the jumping from scene to scene. I even liked Katie Holmes, but maybe I was just overwhelmed by sheer Batman-ness. The things that made me laugh out loud in the theatre, causing others to laugh nervously when it went on for far too long, is when the Scarecrow is riding around on the horse, trying to scare everyone and Katie Holmes taser's him (I laughed a good long time at this) and the headline that read, "Drunk Millionaire Burns Down Home". (that one only got a hearty chuckle)

Sunday:
We went back to our old church. We left because it was too far and in the year we've been married (two years going to the church) we have not built quality relationships... It's noone's fault. We live 45 minutes from everyone and we both work nights. So we are going to look for a church closer to home. However, we went last sunday because they asked The Honey to play for them. He went on no sleep. I went on 2 hours of sleep. I felt like merde. (excuse my french) Then we went home and slept until 7 o'clock pm, tried to go eat crablegs, got rejected, ended up eating at O'Charley's, which was okay, then we went home and talked the rest of the night. (sorry, fascinating to me, but boring to you, intimate moment - but I'm documenting here)

The Fourth:
The Honey gets a page from the job. He's supposed to be there at 11:30 (IN THE MORNING!) and it's 11:08. He's gone so fast I miss it. So I sit knitting The Blanket, watching tv and wondering if he's going to come back soon or if I'm going to have to call people so that I can get to a cookout at Dustin's. But he comes home and I get the car. The Cookout was pretty good, but the fireworks was the stuff of legend. Legend as in I'm sure if we had not been there, Dustin would have burned down half the forest out back. We were on a quite open lot with the most garish blue barn you could imagine... No, I mean it, imagine worse. The fireworks were not launched, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Despite the gnats, mosquitoes and various other bugs and pests trying to get into our mouth and eyes, it was a nice night outside. Then some of us sat around and talked for a while and at the end, it was Brian, Dustin and me watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We decided to watch the 2nd one because we wanted to see the Vanilla Ice dance scene. In the middle of the movie, we started talking about someone who had the last few boyfriends cheat on her when they found out she wouldn't sleep with them. Horrified, I asked if she met these guys in church. We then got into this very serious discussion when all of a sudden we heard the first streams of the Ninja Turtle Dance. All conversations cease as we sing along. (that's what I call priorities!) We were all surprised to see we remembered the dance. Surprised and Ashamed. We talked a bit more about a comedian named Mitch Hedberg (sp?) and then I went to pick up The Honey. Well, the Mitch Hedberg stuff happened after midnight, so I guess that was the end of the fourth Festivities. The weekend was really fun.

Things I learned from this weekend:
1. Taking things to the grave is never a good idea
2. Not getting enough makes you curse in french
3. People named Dustin who work with you should never, ever be given his choice of where fireworks should go off... always point him to the empty field and away from the trees, no matter how hard he cries
4. Old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles still rock (it's still corny, but it still rocks.)

Escape

I took this idea from a co-worker. I now introduce mandatory weekly Calvin and Hobbes. Which may or may not be mandatory or weekly. So enjoy!

I felt like this today. It was a nice day out... hot as Hades and a desert combined... you know, where you feel like you're on fire and sweat is pouring, but there is just a little bit more heat under the surface and just when you think it couldn't be any hotter, it is. Like I said, a nice day. And all I could do was stare out the door, jealous of the people who got to come in then leave. Someone was talking to me and saying that she hated working so much because she missed out on life. She wished she could come to the shop more often. I found myself laughing, wishing I could be less in the middle of everyone else's life. Plus, today, 4 very important people moved back to their hometowns. The girls were missionaries to a youth center and worked with me. I had something to say into each of their lives, a mentor of sorts. I got to really use that Titus "older women teach the younger women" part, although I'm not that much older nor were they that much younger, but it fits. I miss them. I have a beautiful picture and I card that made me cry. So, with about 5 hours of sleep under my belt, 4 friends gone, 3 degrees of heat trying to make me come out of my skin, and a couple of disasters to avert, it really took a few deep breaths to keep me on the job and smiling. And several cups of water.

P.S. This is new, so stop laughing.

Wisdom From The Yarn Harlot

Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who would want to live in an institution? - H.L. Mencken

The best reason for a knitter to marry is that you can't teach the cat to be impressed when you finish a lace scarf. Even if he doesn't know a cable from a boble, my mate can be my biggest cheerleader. - At Knit's End, Yarn Harlot

I just finished my first (of 3) baby blankets. It is for a co-worker from a previous job. It's a pink and blue knit blanket (even though she is having a girl) with a yellow crochet trim. I finished it up after a month of working on it. I did the last ten rows and the crocheted edge while watching about 5 hours of CSI Season 1 on DVD. At 7am, my husband comes into the room and I show him the blanket. He stares at it for a long time before saying, "This is the best thing I've ever seen you make!" Even if the receiver doesn't like the blanket at all, my husband's praise made doing the job worthwhile. Best. Encouragement. Ever.

Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Marianne Williamson


I first heard this quote in Coach Carter. It made me pause, cry a little, and pull out my journal with a promise to let my light shine. In the movie, there is no mention of God. So imagine my surprise that the truth of the quote without God was validated (to me) by the truth of the quote including God. There was a certain power to the words, as if God had reached from the television to touch the part of my heart that makes this quote true. I am afraid to push myself to my limits, working to exhaustion, resting when needed, congratulating myself when I succeed, learning from my mistakes when I fail.

I know my biggest fear is failure. I am afraid I am no good, that I am trying to hard for nothing. I am afraid that others will be better than me, nullifying my achievements. I am afraid that I will not learn, I will not grow and therefore, I will die. I fight against it every day, trying my hardest to be innovative. I am also afraid that I will let those around me down. What I am beginning to understand is that I will do all the things I am afraid of, but what I continually find, much to my amazement, is that I do not do them. When I am my most judgemental self, something keeps me from being the disappointment I should be. When I write, it always comes out as something insightful, or funny, or emotional, depending on what I am writing. Others are better than me, but my achievements are still noticed and rewarded and when something I do isn't rewarded, there is still some comfort in finding that I've done my best. No matter what darkness threatens to overtake my efforts, I find that, through no help from me, my efforts avail much. If there is weakness in my actions, the results are momentous. So if my actions are strong, the results my be astounding. That is what, in the end, I am afraid of.

Snide comments are SO called for.

I am a yarn nerd. I asked about yarn shops everywhere I went in Indiana. People told me different places, but they were never places we were going. Finally in Ohio, I spot a fabric shop. The coffee shop we were going to check out was two blocks away, so when we ordered our food, I ran to the shop to check out what yarn, if any, they had.

There were two little old ladies in the back, talking. They looked at me as I walked in, then went back to their conversation. Neither greeted me, neither offered to help. They just talked about what their granddaughter was going to wear somewhere, what their son said the other day, etc. I saw some really beautiful yarn and some really passe yarn. There was this soft netting type yarn that would have been very pretty for a baby shawl, or even a tiny sweater. There was this multicoloured yarn that would have been awesome for a bag. There were these two old biddies that wouldn't even give me the time of day. So, yarn nerd that I was, I stood up, turned towards the door and started my walk out. I took big, angry steps, like the steps my mom took when I was a little girl struggling to keep up. I let my full weight fall into each step, sounding like the giant I am. Then I said, cheerily, loudly, with a touch of the anger and hurt I was feeling, "Thank you ladies so much..." I began
"You're welcom..." one lady got out before I finished. "for helping me." She cut her "Hon" short because she hadn't.

I walked two block faster than I've ever walked any place, stopping short at a sign. I quickly sprinted into the store and ordered. Half a pound of fudge. Peanut butter fudge and chocolate peanut butter fudge. Because I was hollow. The proprietor was nice. He even rounded down though he was mathematically able to round up.
"Thank you for being nice." I say. I don't know what was in my voice, but he looked at me, his eyes softened a little and he said genuinely, almost laughing, "Hey, that's what I'm here for!"

I heard, "I can't solve all the problems of the world, but I can do my part to be a human being." Then I saw C and J at the car with our food and rushed out, a pinch of fudge on the way to my mouth.

Are We There Yet?

"Do you need directions sir?"
"No. I'm from here."

I didn't doubt he didn't need directions, but we had been up all day, it was nearly 10:45 and we needed to be on our way to the warm bed that was awaiting us at the end of our journey. C. had worked 6 hours, 7 for me and J. pretty much worked all day. Then we'd flown out of Hartsfield and landed in Indianapolis 1 hour later, ready to put our bags down and go to sleep.

We settled back into the seats of our brand new, never before driven Santa Fe, taking in the new car smell, wondering why they didn't put any car mats down and driving in what looked like a big circle.

"I think we're on the airport loop." J. said.
"I see the interstate over there." C. said. I didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I see that." J. said.
"You're in a Santa Fe." C. said. J. looked askance. I said nothing.
"You know, you could take this thing over the grass..." C. joked.
"I can just see myself trying to explain the scratches. 'I promise, the scratches were already there! I don't know why she didn't see them when she checked us out.'" J. laughed. "Oh, here's a street off the loop." He takes it. I begin to laugh to myself a little bit.

Then we drive. I feel like we've seen the whole of Indianapolis and are still no closer to getting to sleep. Finally, we stumble upon the interstate. They breathe a sigh of relief.
"Interesting." I say. J. turns around and looks at me. "No snide comments about me not taking directions." he says. I tell him I was commenting on the car that went too far, backed up in the midst of busy traffic, then went in the right direction at a busy intersection. Interesting that she backed up, interesting that it was this busy at 11:30.

We get on the interstate. We follow it correctly. 10 minutes later, on our right, is the airport, our car rental name emblazoned in yellow. The same car rental place we'd left 45 minutes ago.

Interesting.

For the rest of the trip, I laughed everytime someone asked J. if he needed directions.

Reflections during flight

I had to switch to all plastic and wood knitting needles for this flight, although somehow my crochet hook made it in under the radar. That means I had to give up two urgent projects because I was working with metal needles. Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh. RANT: I had to start two new projects to compensate for the lack of metal needles. Now I'm truly overloaded. Please clue me in when a little old lady tries to hijack a plane with size 11 US knitting needles or Addi Turbo circulars.

There is a lady wearing pink and green. Bright pink and green. Neon even. Colours I haven't seen together since 10th grade. 13 years ago. And only on a very awkward, socially unacceptable teen. Me. And I thought I was cute, just like this lady. And I was wrong. Just like this lady.

I'm making myself a scarf knit on size 19 needles. I'm very excited. This is the first thing I'll knit for myself that will be any good. My first knit item sits in the bottom drawer of my husband desk at work. Even I am not sure what it is supposed to be. He says it looks like I took a skein of yarn, threw it to a dog to play with, took it back 30 minutes later and say, "Here's my scarf."

There is a squeaky wheel on the plane. It's as bad as a bad grocery cart wheel. But scarier. I'm sure it doesn't say anything good about the plane.

Take off is the best part of flying.

Land Shark!

Here is proof that Sci-Fi Network reads my blog. I don't know if that's good or not. Without a doubt the thoughts presented in High Tide are present in this finished product by Sci-Fi. That's okay. It couldn't be better than mine was going to be.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants of course spoilers

Yes. That is actually the title of this post. No, I did not find jeans that magically fit me and three of my friends. Heck, I can't find a pair that will fit just me. But I found a movie that fit quite nicely. The movie starred Joan of Arcadia and a Gilmore Girl and America Ferrera, and another girl who I didn't know from anything. They were well thought out characters, characters that were dynamic, that changed during the course of the movie, that were three dimensional. The story was well written, a good flow of ideas into images that sometimes took my breath away. And I cried.

How did I come to see this traveling pants movie, you ask? It all started out well enough. I was taking the girls I mentor to a movie, since we were getting too weighed down with all the things going on around us. I decided they should pick the movie. I was hoping we would get to see The Longest Yard, even though I've only heard so-so reviews about it. The Sisterhood came out that day and was at the top of the listing for movies and they didn't get much further than that one. I breathed a big sigh and said, "Okay." I invited a co-worker to go with us, simply because I didn't know her and thought it would be fun getting to know her. So there we were, our own weird sisterhood, going to watch this movie. I enjoyed the dialogue, the sadness that didn't get mired into sappiness, the realness of friendship portrayed, the truth of parent/child relationships. Even the benign self-centeredness of Carmen's (America Ferrera's character) stepmother-to-be as she prepared for her wedding was real. I wasn't quite that bad, but I remember. The favourite character was Bailey, the precocious 12 year old with leukemia. She was acidic enough to be 12, but caring enough to be a person facing death every day. I don't think Dakota Fanning has to watch her back, but she was truly good. I cried the most during Carmen's scenes with her dad. The longing to be with him even though he kept himself far from her, the treachery she felt, the anger, and the pure joy when he included her without being coerced into doing so. Maybe it was too much of a happy ending for her story, but at the same time, it was right. Oh, it's not Oscar worthy, where I left the theater thinking that I'd never seen a better written movie, or more ably acted, or anything like that. I did walk away from it with many topics running through my mind. Things like, why do I fear death? Will I ever be honest with my dad like Carmen? Can I stop looking down on others just because they chose a path I wouldn't have? Will I continue to fight for the love I've been given against any odds?

I guess I should say this at the beginning, but I recommend this movie. If you've gotten this far, you've seen a map of the journey, perhaps, but you haven't seen the beauty of Greece, and the joy of being acknowledged, or the anguish of defeating yourself that this movie takes you through. It's something else to look at the world again though another's eyes.

I Do My Own Stunts

I am a dangerous person. The biggest danger is that I can come from nowhere and wreck anything. Literally.

I come by my clumsiness naturally. That is to say, I wasn't graceful once. I've always been clumsy. And I inspire others. My dad dropped me when I was just a wee babe. He of the not dropping much of anything. My dad could walk with planks of wood without hurting himself or others. He could carry many building things in his hands and walk drop free. Me, on the other hand, the most precious of his acquired things, he dropped without even realizing that such a thing could happen. I'm sure he was shocked, and I'm sure my mom kept me far from him for a few months at least.. I credit Velcro Hands, that technology only mothers have, with not dropping me. However, if my hunch is right, and it normally is, she dropped me. It's just that noone ever saw her do it. It's a secret she will take to her grave.

Growing up didn't bring much success. I was coltish, with long awkward legs and arms, my elbows and knees huge knobs on my skinny frame. My head was over big, as if I were trying to retain the "big headed baby" cuteness from my infancy. It wasn't working. I was an awkward child and looked it. I could reach, but I wasn't allowed to carry. Papers would inevitably fall from my hands, outside on windy days. Balls would bounce from my grasp into busy streets. Erasers would slam, with a fuss and a cloud, to the ground if I but looked at them. And heaven forbid if it was my turn to wash the board. Floods of epic proportions my friends. Floods of epic proportions.

Believe me, it didn't get better. I guess my body did grow to fit my head... or, grow closer to the size my head was going for, but my look of awkward destruction did not leave. By this point, I am tripping myself and other people, dropping trays in the lunchroom, somehow getting food fights started. Once, a teacher was hit with blue mashed potatoes, potatoes I had dared someone to dye blue with their ink pen. It wasn't pretty.

Even now, as an adult, I trip over nothings on the floor. I hardly bother to look anymore. I am wary of high, narrow stairs and I've fallen up stairs at least twice. As we speak, my husband is waiting to hear the horrific news that I've somehow managed to stab myself with my knitting needles. It has become a part of me and I know, every now and then, my husband shakes his head at the true knowledge that, in a few years, he may have two more stuntmasters to worry about.

The Lords of Narnia by Darth Angel (spoilers always possible)

I sat next to a Clone. Darth Vader was a girl. And somehow, normal looking people were there too. Yes, Episode III was more than I expected and less. Let's start with the more.

I felt like I was already watching the 3-D version with the first scene. In some parts, I felt like I was in the movie, especially during Obi Wan's fight scene with Grievous. Padme's outfits were just smashing, although, as a girl, I couldn't see how she slept in the nightgown with the pearls. Hayden Christenssen didn't bother me as much as he did in episode II and I even looked forward to scenes with him, watching the devolution of a Jedi. I liked seeing R2 having a bigger role and the laughs were good laughs. All of them were in the right places for releasing tension. The "moral" questions of the Force were right on, bringing about the clarity and clouding that comes when truths are mixed with untruths.

Now, the less. Darth Sidious. Chancellor Palpatine as a character, was a good character. He was a great embodiment of evil. He had a civil facade, doing an awesome job of playing good, but he had just the right amount of menace to make you edgy about him. Darth Sidious, with his many, many (sigh), many over-enunciations was not a great embodiment of evil. He did evil things. He made people bad, but he wasn't as scary as Palpatine. Darth Sidious literally destroyed the ending of the movie for me.

The best thing about watching Star Wars was definitely the standing in line part. Seeing the costumes, talking to the geeks and the wanna-bes (of which I am one), making new friends, scaring off the ones trying to flirt, helping your friends get in line with you then watching them get sent back, seeing the line wrap twice around the building... those are the things that make the show. And on top of that, the Chronicles of Narnia trailer. Did you see Aslan??? All desire to see any other movies pale in comparison to wanting to see this one. I'm more excited than I thought I would be even though it looked like Lord of the Rings was filming at the same time. And now, I must leave you, with many questions unanswered. Except my computer doesn't hate me anymore.

Don't hate me.

Cornfields don't have good reputations. When you think about them, you get images of crop circles, aliens, ghosts, or children (of the corn). The thought of walking through a cornfield doesn't inspire romantic thoughts. Instead you remember when Mel Gibson was looking for the sounds in the cornfield and saw an alien's foot. What cornfields need is the same marketing that sunflower fields get. Walking through a field of giant sunflowers is romantic. It inspires images of Italy, freshness as opposed to cornfield's images of farmers and flat, desolate places. If you get a bouquet of flowers and a giant sunflower is in it, you want to keep it forever. If you get a bouquet with a cornstalk in it, you may consider that your significant other is either insane or suggesting you should get to cooking. Many people like creamed corn, and eating sunflowers isn't the norm, but consider the popularity of sunflower seeds with its salty goodness and consider popped kernels of corn, whose disposition is to get stuck between your teeth. In the corn/sunflower war, corn always loses. And that's really sad.

P.S. Sorry I've been away, but you would too if your computer hated you.

High Tide Update

As you may have read in the comments for this post, I was made aware of a director willing to tackle the great think piece that is High Tide. Recognizing the quality of my work, though not the content of my character, he agreed to make this work. However, I was made aware through courier that all of my hide tide of hopes would be helplessly dashed against the rocks. I will print the letter in its entirety.

Dear Mrs. This Girl,
I regret to inform you that I must opt out of directing your brilliant film about the certainly upcoming earthquakes that lead to whales being on the top of the food chain.
Though I am a fan of your work, I have been offered the chance to write, direct, and co-star in a similar film and do not wish to be typecast.
It is called "Killah Whales" and it's by the good people at Paramount, so it has a HUGE budget. In the film, a melting glacier causes the ocean to rise and flood an experimental nuclear facility during whale mating season. The result is a school of mutated whales that are no longer forced to reside in the ocean and have a blood lust against humanity. Some have legs but the deadliest is a Blue Whale who mutated wings and flys around like a dragon eating people and drowning whole towns in plankton rich ocean water. The only hope for humanity is a brilliant scientist (Will Smith) who now teaches math to inner city school kids after giving up on science after NASA used his work against his will to eliminate a race of Aliens living on the dark side of the moon. Can the only people that know the whale's secret, a lowly Coast Guard worker (Dennis Quaid) and his homosexual life partner (Ice Cube) convince the scientist to help? KILLAH WHALES: THIS SUMMER WE'RE THE ENDANGERED SPECIES.
Clearly I cannot turn this wonderful project down.
Best of Luck,

Great minds are thinking alike. Of course, I am terribly devastated that I will not get to make my movie, having no budget, no director, no actors, and no talent for special effects. I could have artful drawings for you to see, but I am not technologically advanced enough to show them to you. Maybe my next movie idea, a mocumentary of the Surreal Life, will come to fruition.

High Tide

We watched 10.5, a made for TV movie about The Big One... errrr, well, how a series of faults, deeper than can be recorded, trigger earthquakes that could be big enough to sever the entire left coast from the rest of the united states while a crack group of seismologist go about trying to prevent The Big One. The good things? Bo Duke John Schneider. The bad things? Oh, the writing, the acting, the storyline, the fact that they declared Marshal Law (as opposed to martial law) as written on newscasts detailing the tragedies of the quakes, etc. This movies has inspired my own movie idea, co-created with my husband.

High Tide:
When Jupiter is smashed by the hand of God, pieces of it crash into the moon, knocking it slightly off course, causing the tides to come careening into large cities. Whales move to the top of the food chain and this new threat must be tackled by a crack group of marine biologist even as they figure out ways to live under water during half the day. The cast will include Chevy Chase, since he has some dealings with land water creatures who are at the top of the food chain and, of course, John Schneider. The movie is in development now as we continue to see what other ridiculous extremes we can take this movie to.

This is what happens when you don't have anything to do on a Saturday but be lazy and watch bad made for tv movies.