As I sit in my living room at the onset of the holiday weekend, this is what runs through my head: I'm all for celebrations and patriotic displays and pyrotechnics in general, but I get a little edgy in the summertime when everyone and their brother is lighting Roman candles in the alley all night. Call me crazy, but black powder sounds like gun powder. Dial 911, or no? Sigh.(Good lord, I sound like an old woman - "Crazy kids, get off my lawn" and all that. Oy.)
OK, I love reading Heather Armstrong's blog - she is the queen of snarky mamahood. Today, though, she hit on one of my pet peeves.
You know how a mobile hangs above a baby's crib to distract and stimulate them, comfort them when their grownups' faces aren't hovering above? Someone please tell my WHY people insist on manufacturing mobiles that are visually pleasing ONLY to the ambulatory adults in the room? This mobile, installed over Dooce's new crib, WILL LOOK LIKE TINY ROTATING LINES TO THE BABY. Hello, edges of paper? Not so engaging. Face 'em down, people. This is all I ask.
So I'm knitting Jared Flood's lacy-slouchy beret, Porom. For myself.
Scandalous, I know. If logic had anything to say here, the only things on my needles would be thoughtful gifts for others. Oh well. It's not even Thanksgiving yet. [insert silent panic-infused scream here]
My one complaint? The needles.
I happen to be quite partial to a certain wooden interchangeable set I was gifted last Christmas. Actually, quite partial doesn't really begin to describe my feelings; ragingly loyal is more like it. Trouble is, they start at 24 inches, and I needed a 16" circular for the hat, so I defaulted to Addi Turbos.
I know I will offend someone (or two) with what I'm about to say, but I. Don't. Like. Them. I don't like using Addis. It's the points - rather, the lack thereof. You try using DK yarn, size 8 needles, and executing k3tog tbl. Grrr.
Meema needs to get her drink on.
I cried while listening to this response to California's (narrow) passage of Proposition 8. Thank you, Keith, for giving such salient voice to the GLBT community's struggle for human rights. And thank you to my friend eWAC for bringing this clip to my attention. I think everyone needs to hear this. Please distribute its URL to your family and friends. A heavy day. Welcome the morn...
His lead over Al Franken in Minnesota's hotly contested US Senate race has been steadily slipping as the election results' canvassing progresses.
As of this moment, his lead has been cut from 762 on Tuesday night to only 221.
Ever the quintessential opportunist, he wasted no time in delivering an acceptance speech and lambasting Franken for thinking of pursuing a recount and wasting taxpayer money. Now that his lead is shrinking, he's throwing around accusations to cast doubt on the canvassing process (and no doubt readying his crack legal team to sue the state, Al, or whomever else they can to worm his way back into the Big Show).
Feel that, Norm? It's the wind of change, and it's going to rip the smug, self-righteous umbrella right outta your slick little hands.
I made mention in February that audition songs in my voice studio have the ability to affect my mental state in a lasting and not-so-good way. Oh, the humanity. (And the unfortunate side effect of programming lucrative pop schlock versus music with substance? Talented students, especially seniors, will be choosing not to audition for their yearly musical solely because it's HSM.) *This now concludes the Blog Alert Early Warning Announcement.
Please take all blogging by Meema in September 2008 with large grains of salt; the Other School will be casting their own production of Disney's High School Musical with
three.
weekends.
of.
performances.
Read here to find out how the current administration Drilling for oil in the Alaska wilderness?
Check.
Refusing to meet global initiatives for curbing carbon emissions?
Check.
W placing his addlepated head up his own arse again?
_____ (place check here)
Soap box tirade over. Nothing more to see here, people - let's keep movin'.
My creativity has been corked by customer disservice. I greatly dislike it when that happens. My cellular phone service provider, who shall remain nameless (but it rhymes with Be Noble), is not in my good graces right now. Being locked into a contract until the beginning of June, I feel a bit powerless. I greatly dislike that, too.
I've been having issues with text and voice messages for the past 3 4 5 months, and Customer Service and Technical Support haven't been able to determine the issue. Today a CS rep suggested I go to a [Be Noble] brick-and-mortar location where they could check my SIM card. OK. Sounds good. Off I go.
(cue Cavalier Greenhorn Retail Boy)
I walked into the store and told CGRB that I had been sent there by CS, and he promptly said, "Let's replace your SIM card." He didn't ask what my issues might be. Nothing.
He takes the card out of my phone. "Will I lose any of my data?" "Oh, no," replies CGRB, "this gizmo will transfer it all. We don't want to lose anything."
(punches a few buttons, scans a bar code into the computer)
"Wow, you have a lot on there." Duh. "You should be all set now," and hands me my phone. My woes were now supposedly cured by CGRB, all in under three minutes. That should have been the red flag right there. No, the not asking a single question of me was the first red flag, followed closely by the land speed record. Followed immediately by the fact that he took my old SIM card. Right. To. The. Shredder.
Gone are the text messages that had been saved, memos I'd made to myself, a recording of Kidlet's bedtime prattling from a year+ ago. Realizing this in the parking lot, I went back in and told CGRB of the grievous fallout of his rushed service. Nothing. It wasn't even until I turned to leave that he stammered a "sorry" my way.
Who out there likes their provider? I'm definitely shopping.
p.s. Thanks for listening. If ever I can return the favor, you just let me know.
all, to the last day of the season! Tomorrow is the day Christians observe the arrival of the gift-bearing Magi - Epiphany.[rant alert for Christmas observers] Have you noticed that, all these past eleven days, you didn't hear one note of holiday music on your radio? It maddens me that our hyper-commercial culture inundates the airwaves with holiday tunes starting the day after Thanksgiving, then shuts them off at 11:59 pm on 25 December. Many people are actually convinced that the twelve days end with Christmas Day, not begin. The weeks leading up to the 25th are meant to be full of anticipation and wonder, yet as we arrive at Christmas, we're often "all Christmas-ed out." I'm just sayin'.
