rachelpink rides the bus

Daisy

Tonight I had to run over to Soho to pick up needles and yarn for an experiment (shhh--I can't talk about it until I'm all done next week). Before heading down to my train, I stopped into Dean and Deluca for daisies. The fellow at the counter assumed they were a gift and asked if I wanted them readied for giving. Why not? I haven't bought myself flowers in months and months and months and these daisies were a treat. He unstuck the pricce tag and wrapped the flowers in layers of white tissue. They looked so damn pretty. 

I got them home and unwrapped all the wrapping. I filled my three Ronnybrook glass milk bottles with water and spread the daisies out between them. There is a really good chance that Foster is going to knock down the two bottles I left on the kitchen table, but it's a risk I can live with. 

I Like This

I like this week and I like this night and I like being 34. 

This weekend I have almost no set plans. I need to head into Soho on Saturday night to pick up sticks and string for a creativity experiment. That's it. I have a free movie ticket that I might use to see The Reader. I need to clean this apartment--the cats have been on a tear. And I would like to get some writing done. And organize my computer desktop. And maybe do a little work and some knitting and some reading. 

But if I opt instead to take naps and drink smoothies and go for aimless walks, that will work too. 

Next weekend is an exercise in sociability. Watchmen comes out on Friday. Super fun bachelorette party on Saturday. (Can you believe I've never gone to a bachelorette party of any kind? Not once.) Volunteering on Sunday. Whew. Busy like a hive of bees. 

RIght now though I've got a cat on my lap and 20 pages left in this terrifying zombie virus book. I'm on the couch and wearing sweats and sipping iced tea and I'm feeling like things are just right. 

Happy-Making Things

I haven't felt very bloggy lately. But I have felt happy. Here's a round-up of this week's happy-making things:

+ Making my mom laugh 

+ Lunch with Meg and Anna (followed by fabric shopping--oh my!) 

+ Payday and tax refund = super flush bank account!! Savings! I have savings!

+ Recreating the Westville artichokes at home

+ Finding some more new old friends on Facebook

+ Cleaning my bookshelves at work

+ Finishing the book! Well, one more small thing to do today--but the writing is DONE. 

+ Watching Meredith dance with a book 

+ Buffy Season 2

+ Funny jokes from Edward

+ Advice and exasperation from my friends :) 

+ That random album cover meme on Facebook

+ Mango smoothies 

One More Weekend Day, Pretty Please

I wanted to get more done this weekend, that's what I thought when I woke up today from my nap. But then I cut myself some good old fashioned slack. 

I put in 2 solid hours at the shelter. I read one book and started another. I napped with my cats. I went through a good 75 work emails. I worked on some loose ends for my book project. I talked to the kids. I saw Emo Philips and ate tacos with Sarah and Ann. And I went on a remarkeably excellent and spontaneous date that restored my hope. 

It was important for me to have a good weekend. On Friday, well, let's not speak of Friday. It's done. 

Foster is as Cute as he is Annoying

 

Love is a Mix Tape

I just finished the saddest, most perfect book: Love is a Mix Tape. 

Someone, I think it was Jating, joined the book's fan page on Facebook.  Right around the same time my new friend Scott sent me two mixes, the first I'd gotten in years and years, and I was alight with memories of mix tapes from years past. So I ordered the book up from the library. 

Tuesday night was such a crabby night, so I bullied Vince into going with me to Murray's. I wanted a triple-cream-cheese dinner. On the way I stopped by the library, and Love is a Mix Tape had arrived. It wasn't the only book in the pile, but it was the one that made my heart race. 

Cheese in hand I popped on the N and started reading. Last night I tucked myself into bed, snuggled up against the cat, and finished it. Then I cried a good cry for two people I didn't know and for music and for love and for being young and for silver spandex pants and for Pavement and "Heart-Shaped Box" and the early 90s. 

I bookmarked too many pages. Later I'll sort through them and share. 

RIP Schatze Chiquita

My mom had to put down her dog today. So so so sad.  Schatze Chiquita lived a long life, almost 13 years. 

The kids don't know yet, and they'll be sad. No use telling them right this second.

Schatze Chiquita gave tons of joy to our family friend, Betty, in her last years of life. And when Betty died, an unexpected blow I'll never fully get over, my mom and dad took Schatze home. 

Donovan loved that dog. It was his dog--he made a big deal of that when he moved away to Florida. And even though Delaney hardly knew her, she talked about her a lot. 

Schatze loved getting walks. She loved egg foo young and chicken scraps from the butcher. I have no doubt that she's hanging out with Betty right this second, snuggled up on a big comfy couch somewhere full of shine and gravy. 

Coraline

Last year I read Coraline and I loved it. The button eyes scared me in the best fairytale kind of way. 

So of course I was itching to see Coraline the movie. The ad campaign and marketing were handled beautifully. Lovely all around. I couldn't decide whether I should see it in 3D or not. . . I worried the 3D would cheapen the experience. Alas, I was wrong. The 3D is not over the top at all (which I suspect will disappoint some kids), it just creates a really beautiful depth. 

The whole world of the movie is visually stunning. My problem? No story. No tension. Coraline is told what to do by everyone around her. She never figures out anything on her own. I don't remember thinking that while I read the book. I remember liking Coraline and rooting for her--and I remember her puzzling things out. Maybe I'm misremembering? 

Either way, story be damned. This is one exquisite film full of visual magic and wonder. . . 

Oh My

Aaaaaaaaaah.

There. All better.

It is stressful out there. It is stressful in here. I've avoided writing out a to-do list because I know it would break my heart. Too many bills and billing disputes and catching up at work and not freaking out. 

Too many leaky sinks and toilets and long meetings and kitty cat hairballs. 

The wind this morning is howling and knocking over trash cans and blowing around lawn furniture, and that's a bit what it feels like in my head. 

I'm Just Not That Into You

He's Just Not That Into You is comparable to Benjamin Button (CCBB) in its all-encompassing awfulness. 

Here are the meta-themes:

Women are dumb.
Men are jerks.
Getting married is the most important thing in the world.
Being alone is the most horrible thing in the world.

Women are crazy.

Women are all a size zero. 
Marriage is a terrible disaster predicated on lies and impossible compromises.

Viola! I just saved you $13. 

I did not go into this movie thinking it was going to knock off my knickers. I thought it would be a cute thing to see with my girlfriends. I'd chuckle a bit. I'd marvel at the smoldering sultriness of ScarJo. I'd grimace uncomfortably when something hit too close to home. 

Instead, I just got angry. And mad. And it kind of soured me on dating a bit. Honestly! But I probably (definitely) needed a little souring. 

The bits that did hit close to home where bits that I'd already recognized in myself. 

1. I tend to read too deeply into everything and create elaborate fictions in my sweet little head. 

2. My girlfriends are awesome and supportive (and not in the sick way depicted in the film). 

3. My guy friends tend to be brutally honest and they might be right but it's a bitch to hear.