- Favorites movies: No Country for Old Men; Once; Darjeeling Limited; Lars and the Real Girl (I hope to add Atonement, There Will Be Blood, and Juno to this list before the year is out.)
- Overrated movies: Ratatouille; Knocked Up
- Favorite music: Brandi Carlile; Patty Griffin; Hem; Wincing the Night Away by The Shins; Ryan Adams's single "Two"
- Best summer song: "Say it Right," Nelly Furtado
- Favorite TV: 30 Rock; Six Feet Under (which I watched on Bravo; best series finale I've ever seen); So You Think You Can Dance?; Project Runway; Lost (I thought I was out, but the season finale sucked me back in)
- Favorite learning experience: The "Cityscapes" course I took through the UT Odyssey program--I learned about the history of city planning and development for London, Paris, NYC, New Orleans, and Mexcio City. One of the most interesting classes I've ever taken.
- Favorite books: The Last Samurai (Helen DeWitt); Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (the ending sucked, but the writing was very strong and consistent; it was a fitting final book for the series); The Yiddish Policemen's Union (Michael Chabon); The Painted Drum (Louise Erdrich); The Road (Cormac McCarthy); What is the What? (Dave Eggers); Black Swan Green (David Mitchell); Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer (James L. Swanson)
- Giant-disappointment books: Thirteen Moons (Charles Frazier); The Far Country (Daniel Mason); Special Topics in Calamity Physics (Marisha Pessl); The Historian (Elizabeth Kostova--the first 2/3 is brilliant; the last 1/3 is a huge let-down); Absurdistan (Gary Shteyngart)
- Best new friend: Aaron, my dear internet friend and fellow writing enthusiast. He got me writing again (however briefly), and I got to read his amazing work. This fella is the greatest.
- Person I would like to punch in the face: Anne Coulter
- Most overhyped thing: Election coverage; media hyping gas prices; Judd Apatow movies
- Most underrated thing: Volunteering (though this could also be filed under "Most frustrating" and also maybe "Most hilarious" and "Most likely to cause a run-in with large birds")
- Things that kept going that you wish would have died/ended: The war in Iraq; Bush's presidency; people who sound like Toby Keith; those gross nail fungus and mucus commercials
- Something new you added to your life this year: Boyfriend; this blog; dramatic highlights
- Travel: Nashville; Memphis (where I overheard a woman, holding a two-year-old boy, tell her other son, who was horsing around while they wait for the street car, “Eric, I’m going to beat you with your brother if you don’t stop right now.”); California x 3; San Antonio
- Best worst dating moment(s): After last year's hilarious misunderstanding with the local FOX weatherman (I really missed out on those double-breasted suits and pleated pants), I was ready for this year to be just as ridiculous. It started out promising...with the guy who thought it was OK to order and start eating before I even got to the restaurant; the guy who wore shorts to our museum date (come on: throw on some long pants!); the guy without a discernible sense of humor but with a roommate who strips at the Yellow Rose; the guy who works the graveyard shift at 7-Eleven; the guy whose "job" is shopping at pawn shops and re-selling the goods on eBay; and the myriad other morons who didn't even get their foot in the door. And then something odd happened: I met Chris, and the whole thing made sense.
- Biggest disappointment: Realizing that bad things will happen to good people and the only thing you can do is listen and support. It's a pretty helpless feeling. Also: Jamie-Lynn Spears getting pregnant; I find that seriously depressing.
- Most foolhardy thing I did: I threw my keys into the dumpster, locking myself out of the house. I had to climb in--all the way in--to get them. Also: see Best worst dating moments above.
- Something missing from 2007: I usually head to North Carolina in the fall, but didn't make it this year. Also never made it for our annual jaunt out to Krausse Springs.
- Any regrets?: That I let myself quit writing (again) once I had started back up. And that I haven't found a new home for George Michael yet.
- A realistic goal for 2008: More cooking at home instead of a lifestyle of Lean Cuisines. And install a new medicine cabinet.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Best of 2007: Year in Review
It seems like just yesterday we were all hunkered down for Y2K, doesn't it? And yet we are on the eve of 2008. And you know what that means: a year-end list. I live for year-end lists. So here goes. (Keep in mind, of course, that this is completely subjective, and that it likely includes things that came out in 2006 but that I didn't get to until 2007.)
Friday, December 14, 2007
A very important rule.
Everyone should know how to properly pluralize their own last name. This also includes plural possessives. Nothing irks me more than seeing something like Merry Christmas from the Smith's.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Cat for sale. And by "sale" I mean "free."
Sadly, it's time for me and GM to part company. Here's what I'd like to see for him, and I won't let him go until something very comparable is available:
A farm or lots of space, where he can be an outside cat. I believe he would make a great barn cat, catching critters and whatnot. No kids or elderly; I don't think that would be a good idea for anyone involved. He would not make a good Christmas gift. He's what you might call "aggressive."
But he comes with accessories! You can have all of his stuff: litter box, litter, food, toys, bed. He's fixed and has had his shots.
If you know anyone looking for a pet without high-maintenance requirements like affection or petting, I think I might have the cat for them. Surely there is someone out there who wants an independent pet like GM. I just can't deal with him anymore, and I can't let him outside because of a busy street nearby.
Ayudame, por favor.
A farm or lots of space, where he can be an outside cat. I believe he would make a great barn cat, catching critters and whatnot. No kids or elderly; I don't think that would be a good idea for anyone involved. He would not make a good Christmas gift. He's what you might call "aggressive."
But he comes with accessories! You can have all of his stuff: litter box, litter, food, toys, bed. He's fixed and has had his shots.
If you know anyone looking for a pet without high-maintenance requirements like affection or petting, I think I might have the cat for them. Surely there is someone out there who wants an independent pet like GM. I just can't deal with him anymore, and I can't let him outside because of a busy street nearby.
Ayudame, por favor.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Fear and trembling.
Last Sunday I took my Little Sis to Lady Bird Lake (née Town Lake) to feed the ducks. We went to the little pier near Deep Eddy, where there are assorted ducks usually lounging around. So there were ducks, and also two black swans (which reminds me: Black Swan Green by David Mitchell is one of my favorite books of 2007...but more on that another day) and two large geese.
I believe my fear of large birds is well documented (and well founded; see American Funniest Home Videos), so suffice it to say that I was uncomfortable. But I did not betray this to my Little Sis, because she gets panicky around cats--specifically George Michael, but that, too, is well founded--and I didn't know how she'd handle a bird freak-out by me.
So we fed the ducks, and they kept their distance, and all was well until a man showed up with a bag of bread and popcorn, and he called to the geese. Who apparently know his voice because they scuttled up the bank right to him. He told us that he feeds them everyday, which I find gross because I find large birds gross. Then he left to take a swim because here in Texas, December means 82 degrees on any given Sunday.
But he had created a problem. The two geese were now above us, blocking our exit and honking in an irritated manner. Like they were fixing to nip at someone and I looked like as good a candidate as any (or as Homer Simpson once said of Santa's Little Helper, "He's looking right at me because he knows I'll be the juiciest!").
I started a low-grade panic. I knew that I was going to have to essentially offer myself up to these maniacal geese so that my Little Sis didn't get eaten. (Though my true impulse was to use her as a shield, as I once did with my niece Emily when she was a toddler and we were being advanced upon by a gaggle of surly geese and ducks.)
The swans started honking and stretching their necks onto the pier. We were surrounded, and it was time to go. The geese stood like statues guarding the top of the stairs. As we neared them, I casually suggested that we give them a wide berth.
And then nothing happened.* They left us alone, and I did not have to live my worst fear of being chased down by a goose and pecked at. Not that day, anyway.
*It's a smidge anticlimactic.
I believe my fear of large birds is well documented (and well founded; see American Funniest Home Videos), so suffice it to say that I was uncomfortable. But I did not betray this to my Little Sis, because she gets panicky around cats--specifically George Michael, but that, too, is well founded--and I didn't know how she'd handle a bird freak-out by me.
So we fed the ducks, and they kept their distance, and all was well until a man showed up with a bag of bread and popcorn, and he called to the geese. Who apparently know his voice because they scuttled up the bank right to him. He told us that he feeds them everyday, which I find gross because I find large birds gross. Then he left to take a swim because here in Texas, December means 82 degrees on any given Sunday.
But he had created a problem. The two geese were now above us, blocking our exit and honking in an irritated manner. Like they were fixing to nip at someone and I looked like as good a candidate as any (or as Homer Simpson once said of Santa's Little Helper, "He's looking right at me because he knows I'll be the juiciest!").
I started a low-grade panic. I knew that I was going to have to essentially offer myself up to these maniacal geese so that my Little Sis didn't get eaten. (Though my true impulse was to use her as a shield, as I once did with my niece Emily when she was a toddler and we were being advanced upon by a gaggle of surly geese and ducks.)
The swans started honking and stretching their necks onto the pier. We were surrounded, and it was time to go. The geese stood like statues guarding the top of the stairs. As we neared them, I casually suggested that we give them a wide berth.
And then nothing happened.* They left us alone, and I did not have to live my worst fear of being chased down by a goose and pecked at. Not that day, anyway.
*It's a smidge anticlimactic.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
All right, all right. I missed you, too.
I never know when to use the comma with "too." But it seems like I should. Know, that is.
Anyhoo.
Ok, I'm going to get better about this. Here I am, a young lady of 31 who has been writing in some sort of diary--online or otherwise--since I was in high school. But sometimes it feels strangely liberating not to write stuff down, like I'm breaking a rule and I know better but it kinda feels good anyway. But the rest of the time it feels lazy and like I haven't digested anything because I've not committed it to the internet for any random stranger to read.
So what does Oprah do when she wants to reward her loyal audience? She secretly invites them to her Favorite Things taping. And the people shit their pants. Well, guess what? You're [not] get[ting] a car! And you're [not] get[ting] a car! And you're [not] get[ting] a car! It's Cambria's Favorite Things [Lately] episode!
Cheesecake
Only because it 's deceptively simple to make, and as long as you cover the cracks on the top with chocolate ganache (and you know I did), people will hoist you onto their shoulders and boyfriend's parents will hug you approvingly. I made a raspberry cheesecake with Oreo crust and the above-mentioned chocolate ganache for Thanksgiving, which I spent with Chris's family at his sister's house. They loved it, and they loved me. Perhaps there is a causal relationship there, perhaps not.
Massages
I finally used my birthday spa gift card from Chris and got an hour-long massage on Thursday. Sweet sassy molassy, that was a great hour. Turns out, I'm a little tense along the shoulders and perhaps around the thumbs (?) because she--Bonnie the masseuse, who bore a uncanny resemblance to Barbara Streisand--kept pulling at my thumbs. If you are ever stuck on what to get someone, get them a massage. Except for the laser leveler I am asking for for Xmas, it's about the best gift I can think of.
Cormac McCarthy
Both The Road and No Country for Old Men are remarkable books. The Road made me cry; I've read a lot of McCarthy and tears have never been an emotion that his books have moved me to. No Country for Old Men is well done and deftly crafted; the same ingredients and characters would have fallen flat--or even corny and trite--in lesser hands.
Lars and the Real Girl
I never cared much for Ryan Gosling, but this movie made me a believer. He is just outstanding. The movie also has Emily Mortimer, best known (and loved) to me as "I have hollow bones" from 30 Rock.
Comedic Karma
My sister has a rule never to make fun of people for the things they do because it almost certainly certifies you will end up doing the same thing when in a similar situation. I am finding that to be true. I always used to make fun of my friends for having to call their boyfriends or husbands every night when they were away from them. And yet suddenly that makes complete sense. And I feel like the season of comedic karma is just beginning for me. Should be fun. It's like schadenfreude on yourself.
Recipes
I've decided to start really cooking again. I think it helps to have someone to cook for/with, because it always seemed like too much of a hassle to cook for one and then eat the leftovers for the next week. So, if you're hungry, I will cook for you. It'll be like an experiment. I even bought a small food processor and a hand mixer. It's on, sucka. The soup, that is.
The Dollar Store
I had forgotten the joys of the dollar store. Which is somewhat odd because my dad works in the corporate office of a certain dollar-store chain. But you can buy the whole store for like $50. God bless America. And packs of gift bags, 3 for $1.
Anyhoo.
Ok, I'm going to get better about this. Here I am, a young lady of 31 who has been writing in some sort of diary--online or otherwise--since I was in high school. But sometimes it feels strangely liberating not to write stuff down, like I'm breaking a rule and I know better but it kinda feels good anyway. But the rest of the time it feels lazy and like I haven't digested anything because I've not committed it to the internet for any random stranger to read.
So what does Oprah do when she wants to reward her loyal audience? She secretly invites them to her Favorite Things taping. And the people shit their pants. Well, guess what? You're [not] get[ting] a car! And you're [not] get[ting] a car! And you're [not] get[ting] a car! It's Cambria's Favorite Things [Lately] episode!
Cheesecake
Only because it 's deceptively simple to make, and as long as you cover the cracks on the top with chocolate ganache (and you know I did), people will hoist you onto their shoulders and boyfriend's parents will hug you approvingly. I made a raspberry cheesecake with Oreo crust and the above-mentioned chocolate ganache for Thanksgiving, which I spent with Chris's family at his sister's house. They loved it, and they loved me. Perhaps there is a causal relationship there, perhaps not.
Massages
I finally used my birthday spa gift card from Chris and got an hour-long massage on Thursday. Sweet sassy molassy, that was a great hour. Turns out, I'm a little tense along the shoulders and perhaps around the thumbs (?) because she--Bonnie the masseuse, who bore a uncanny resemblance to Barbara Streisand--kept pulling at my thumbs. If you are ever stuck on what to get someone, get them a massage. Except for the laser leveler I am asking for for Xmas, it's about the best gift I can think of.
Cormac McCarthy
Both The Road and No Country for Old Men are remarkable books. The Road made me cry; I've read a lot of McCarthy and tears have never been an emotion that his books have moved me to. No Country for Old Men is well done and deftly crafted; the same ingredients and characters would have fallen flat--or even corny and trite--in lesser hands.
Lars and the Real Girl
I never cared much for Ryan Gosling, but this movie made me a believer. He is just outstanding. The movie also has Emily Mortimer, best known (and loved) to me as "I have hollow bones" from 30 Rock.
Comedic Karma
My sister has a rule never to make fun of people for the things they do because it almost certainly certifies you will end up doing the same thing when in a similar situation. I am finding that to be true. I always used to make fun of my friends for having to call their boyfriends or husbands every night when they were away from them. And yet suddenly that makes complete sense. And I feel like the season of comedic karma is just beginning for me. Should be fun. It's like schadenfreude on yourself.
Recipes
I've decided to start really cooking again. I think it helps to have someone to cook for/with, because it always seemed like too much of a hassle to cook for one and then eat the leftovers for the next week. So, if you're hungry, I will cook for you. It'll be like an experiment. I even bought a small food processor and a hand mixer. It's on, sucka. The soup, that is.
The Dollar Store
I had forgotten the joys of the dollar store. Which is somewhat odd because my dad works in the corporate office of a certain dollar-store chain. But you can buy the whole store for like $50. God bless America. And packs of gift bags, 3 for $1.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Consumer report.
Three things have come across my radar this week that I just need to share:
- Bounce dryer sheets. Don't try to save $1.50 by buying generic-brand dryer sheets. Once you go from those to Bounce, you will never go back. It's like embracing the Snuggle bear while being wrapped in a sun-warmed blanket hung out to dry in the spring (yes, it mixes brands, but I can't help what I feel).
- AAA Roadside. I've been renewing this every year for $55 and have never used it. Until this year, when I've used it twice. Both times, the AAA person has come in less than five minutes. It was worth $55 alone to have someone change my tire on the side of I-35 after my blow-out...but did you also know that the service is transferable? Last week my neighbor locked her phone, purse, keys, and dog in her truck. I called AAA, they came in three minutes, popped the lock, and everyone was happy and healthy. It cost nothing, and I was the neighborhood hero. I highly recommend.
- Banana Republic sweaters. Don't bother. I've always known this, but I always forget it, especially when they are one sale. Pretty much ever BR sweater I've ever bought has balled up within 90 seconds of putting it on. Today I was nearly overcome by the fluff and fuzz drifting off my sweater--I was like Pigpen with a halo of dirt. But instead of dirt, sweater fluff. And of course, the sweater was balling like a mofo. I am just saying no to their sweaters from now on. (Or maybe starting after Xmas, since I'm sure some of those might be under the tree.)
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Pooing fabric.
As discussion of one cultural zeitgeist came to an end last night--it was our last "What is Modernism?" class through the UT Odyssey program, and I must disappointingly admit that I walked out of the door with exactly zero new insights on modernism--a new cultural zeitgeist was born. Or rather, renewed.
Project Runway, welcome back to my life.
Welcome back Tim, who is wonderful and sincere; Michael, who is slightly less orange-looking; Nina, sour and underwhelmed as ever; and Heidi, not pregnant for the first time since season 1. The gang's all here. Here's who I love so far: the tall skinny blond guy and the fat guy. I mostly love the fat guy because, despite the editors' best efforts to make him the "Boing! This guy doesn't belong!" character, he turned out a really stunning dress. You go, guy who makes salad-themed dresses sometimes!
In other, non-fabric-related news, today is my parents' anniversary. They were married less than three months when they found out they were preggers with me. It kinda wrapped up a hell of a whirlwind year for them: met in the spring, married in the fall, pregnant the next spring. It was the 70s, so maybe that was de rigour, though it strikes me, of the post-Mary Tyler Moore generation, as pretty quick. Anyway, those quirky kids have been married for 32 years; they've been married longer than they were single. Weird when you can start to balance your life like that.
Project Runway, welcome back to my life.
Welcome back Tim, who is wonderful and sincere; Michael, who is slightly less orange-looking; Nina, sour and underwhelmed as ever; and Heidi, not pregnant for the first time since season 1. The gang's all here. Here's who I love so far: the tall skinny blond guy and the fat guy. I mostly love the fat guy because, despite the editors' best efforts to make him the "Boing! This guy doesn't belong!" character, he turned out a really stunning dress. You go, guy who makes salad-themed dresses sometimes!
In other, non-fabric-related news, today is my parents' anniversary. They were married less than three months when they found out they were preggers with me. It kinda wrapped up a hell of a whirlwind year for them: met in the spring, married in the fall, pregnant the next spring. It was the 70s, so maybe that was de rigour, though it strikes me, of the post-Mary Tyler Moore generation, as pretty quick. Anyway, those quirky kids have been married for 32 years; they've been married longer than they were single. Weird when you can start to balance your life like that.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
I have a cousin who's been missing for 2 1/2 years. Missing as in, no one knows where he is, why he went, what happened (to him), or if he'll ever come back. He didn't take his wallet or his keys or his cell phone. He just...vanished.
Because he fell in age right in the middle of all us girls cousins, he was always the groom when we played wedding on my grandma's front lawn. I remember him also having a certain zeal for the 1988 Olympic gymnastic team and for Patch and Kayla on Days of Our Lives. When he and his sister Amy used to come to our house, we would all sing along to the Footloose soundtrack.
The last time I saw him was right before I moved to Memphis in 1999. He seemed like the kind of person I would be friends with, but alas, as these things do, the cousins had all drifted apart over the years, and we only saw each other on Christmas Eves at Grandma's house.
I had a dream last night about him. In the dream my sister Kristin, cousin Aaron, Amy, and I were going to his apartment near Disneyland (he's never had an apartment near Disneyland, though Amy did work maintenance there one summer). When we got to the apartment, we were all sitting on the couch and talking when it dawned on me: Aaron was back. He was there. I'm not sure why it took so long for me to realize it, but when I did, I started frantically signaling my sister to make sure that she noticed, too.
Then I woke up, to the sound of dumpsters being emptied in the middle of the night.
Because he fell in age right in the middle of all us girls cousins, he was always the groom when we played wedding on my grandma's front lawn. I remember him also having a certain zeal for the 1988 Olympic gymnastic team and for Patch and Kayla on Days of Our Lives. When he and his sister Amy used to come to our house, we would all sing along to the Footloose soundtrack.
The last time I saw him was right before I moved to Memphis in 1999. He seemed like the kind of person I would be friends with, but alas, as these things do, the cousins had all drifted apart over the years, and we only saw each other on Christmas Eves at Grandma's house.
I had a dream last night about him. In the dream my sister Kristin, cousin Aaron, Amy, and I were going to his apartment near Disneyland (he's never had an apartment near Disneyland, though Amy did work maintenance there one summer). When we got to the apartment, we were all sitting on the couch and talking when it dawned on me: Aaron was back. He was there. I'm not sure why it took so long for me to realize it, but when I did, I started frantically signaling my sister to make sure that she noticed, too.
Then I woke up, to the sound of dumpsters being emptied in the middle of the night.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Nick or treat
When we were little there was an annual Halloween contest on Nickelodeon. You sent in your phone number in hopes that Nickelodeon would call your house on Halloween. If you answered the phone "Nick or treat," you won.
We never actually submitted our number for the contest, but Kristin and I still like to answer the phone on Halloween with "Nick or treat," just in case.
This year continued my streak of no trick-or-treaters, now about 7 years running. Yet I always buy a bag of candy, just in case. When I pulled up yesterday evening, one of the kids in the complex (I think he might actually be the only one, come to think of it) was standing in the parking lot in his costume. Just kinda hanging out, eager to hit the streets but his mom probably told him they wouldn't go until after dark. So I went over to him and gave him a piece of candy. (I didn't even make him say "trick or treat." Which, I love when kids say that, all rote and automatic.) He was excited to get his first piece of candy of the night, I think. Though it was hard to tell because he was wearing a Scream mask, one with an extra skein of plastic over the top to allow the fake blood to pour down the face whenever he pumped the mechanism in his hand. It was a bit creepy. I told him so. He squeezed the pump to squirt more blood down his mask, which I took as a sign of approval.
We never actually submitted our number for the contest, but Kristin and I still like to answer the phone on Halloween with "Nick or treat," just in case.
This year continued my streak of no trick-or-treaters, now about 7 years running. Yet I always buy a bag of candy, just in case. When I pulled up yesterday evening, one of the kids in the complex (I think he might actually be the only one, come to think of it) was standing in the parking lot in his costume. Just kinda hanging out, eager to hit the streets but his mom probably told him they wouldn't go until after dark. So I went over to him and gave him a piece of candy. (I didn't even make him say "trick or treat." Which, I love when kids say that, all rote and automatic.) He was excited to get his first piece of candy of the night, I think. Though it was hard to tell because he was wearing a Scream mask, one with an extra skein of plastic over the top to allow the fake blood to pour down the face whenever he pumped the mechanism in his hand. It was a bit creepy. I told him so. He squeezed the pump to squirt more blood down his mask, which I took as a sign of approval.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
