Archives for March 2009

As a 911 dispatcher of more than ten years (what? Wow!) and as a soon-to-be published Real Live Writer who had a nightmare the other night about cover art (what if it has a bright metallic glow-in-the-dark pink albino Robin Hood on it?), THIS was the funniest thing I've read in forever.

The Wrestler made me sick. I twittered it, but I must say it again (what? You don't twitter? You should! If you're in an RSS reader, jump over to my site, grab my twitter feed, and follow along!).

It made me actually, physically ill. I've NEVER had that happen to me before in a movie, and I think perhaps in my head I thought people who said they got motion-sick in movies were just A Little Sensitive. But my god. It was like I was on a ship — no, wait, I don't get seasick. It was like I was riding in a car on a winding road up to Yosemite, trying to read a dictionary (oh, the very thought…. I DO get carsick).

Of course, I didn't know that's what was going on, and I just thought, oh, no! I'm getting the stomach flu! And hoo-EEE, it's comin' on fast. Ninety minutes into the hundred and five minute movie, I left. I have NEVER left a movie before, no matter how bad (which is odd, given the ease with which I jettison books I'm not enjoying).

But the movie was unpleasant and violent (duh) and sad, and even though the characters were wonderful and believable and sympathetic, it was wounding my soul to watch it. Plus, I had the stomach flu.

Then I left, and the flu went away. The vertigo disappeared. My brain stopped spinning, and my stomach stopped heaving.

I find it completely fascinating that film footage (shaky, handheld)  can do that to a person. I'm rather glad I went, just for the experience.  Did you see it? Reactions?

Oh, what a weekend! It was one of those perfect combination weekends, where I got stuff done and also did a ton of great things (the Cable Car Museum, rock-climbing, breakfast at Brown Sugar, yoga).

I tell you one thing, a grown-up scavenger hunt is HELLA FUN. It was Bethany's birthday party. We all grouped up in cars, and drove all over the East Bay, looking for clues. When we were counting the party horns in a box we found by a bridge, pairing the number of them with a numbered coin glued onto a nearby concrete map on a bench, figuring out what the coin directed us to? Dudes, it was like being on the Amazing Race, only I got to sleep in my own bed that night.

It was AWESOME. I swear, it was as fun as any scavenger hunt I participated in as a child — no, it was BETTER. The first clue was written in Italian, and when roughly translated by the four or five us who could fake a little Italian, it spoke of a good sandwich she'd once had, so we went to the Italian deli where she'd had it. The note referenced Naples and its warmth, as opposed to the colder north, so we completely believed the clue would be hidden in the ice cream freezers (perhaps by the Neapolitan ice cream?). Um, no. It wasn't. But we sure looked funny looking for it, moving every ice cream container around…. Turns out the clue was in a big, birthday-paper wrapped box on the shelves near the Nutella. We totally missed it.

Another one of the good clues pointed us toward a handsome chocolatier on Millionaire's row. Using the power of technology on our cell phones, we decided we were looking for Ghiradelli's grave in the Mountain View Cemetery in Piedmont. When we got there, the cemetery was just closing, so we had no map, but Bethany found the coordinates online of a nearby gravestone, and plugged it into her GPS device and we all tromped up the hills in search of the tomb, following her as if she held a divining rod. And then we found the tomb! And the clue! It was SO exciting!

Unfortunately, with the time change and all, Lala and I had to leave everyone standing in a park in Chinatown trying to figure out the clue (tiny bottles of booze and a compass pointing East, found in a tree). So I didn't find out the ending. I ended up getting only a couple of hours of sleep, since I'd lost my mind earlier in the afternoon and had a cup of coffee, which kept me up almost all night. So today, I'm exhausted. But happy. I can't wait to go on another one (or plan one! I want SO BADLY  to plan one!).

I'd totally put a clue in a yarn store. A knitter's clue. A knitting scavenger hunt! Ooooh. Don't get me started. Who's in?

I keep thinking my fish Harper is gone for good. The first occurrence of his death happened while Michelle was staying in my office. I went in to feed him, stepping over the queen-sized airbed that took up the ENTIRE floor space, and he was gone.

No, really. All the way gone. There was no fish in the tank. At all.

I told myself that I was just being silly, so I pulled out the tank. I looked behind the fake plant. Then behind the ship's wheel resting on the rocks (I just typoed ship as sheep three times). No fish. That only left the little treasure chest. Oh, god. Had he swum inside and the lid (which has a hinge) closed on him? Would I lift the lid to release my dead fish? I stuck my hand in the water and opened the chest.

Nothing. No fish. I let the lid drift down and searched the bowl again. Still no sign of life. I got Lala to help me with the search. And I have to admit, the thought flitted through my mind: What did Michelle DO with my fish? Did she pack it up as a San Francisco souvenir for Scout? Midnight sushi?

La pointed out that I might want to pick UP the treasure chest. I did. And Harper swam out. Oh, god! Had he been trapped? For how long? Was it a close call? Oh, what a bad fish mom! But Lala argued that he'd swum under it — he could get out. (Marbles line the bottom of the tank, and it's uneven — I think she's right about that.)

Since then, I've found him hiding under the chest a couple of times, and twice the whole thing has been overturned and sitting upside down. I don't think I'm imagining that he's playing with it. Do fish really play? He has this habit of swimming down to the chest and then lying across it, like a chanteuse on a piano. He rests for a bit, pokes at the lid, swims up, then down again, draping himself sexily along the purple plastic. I didn't even know fish KNEW about gravity, but he does.

I love my fish.

Edited to add: I forgot, I was going to take this class, but now I can't, but that means you can! The peerless Kira will be teaching a shirt-making class at knit-one-one. I totally wanted to take it so I can learn how to make a button-down shirt for MY size. Details here.

Today was one of those days when all my fur stood up and I had wild eyes and difficulty retracting my claws. You know that feeling? I honestly think it's a reaction to an overdose of fun. Michelle visiting! Rock climbing! Stitches! Editing! Tonga Room! SO MANY ANIMALS! All very good, wonderful things.

    Me and Michelle, post Tonga Room, pre Naan'n'Curry.

But now I'm fitting back into my life. I'm remembering where I stored a normal day and dusting that off. I'm breathing, in and out. I came home from work and did yoga in my office with Harper's fish-tank bubbling and Sigur Ros playing. Then I had a piece of chicken with Lala. A glass of wine. The end of last night's Amazing Race. Now I'm off to bed, and that will fit, too. Tonight, the nerves are soothed and I'm relaxing into the place I live.