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I came home from running errands yesterday to these, and my birthday isn't until tomorrow!

They're so gorgeous -- every time I walk into my dining room I feel like I'm in a hotel lobby or something. :-)

ETA: And he just brought me an appletini! What a keeper (but I already knew that)!


Sep. 21st, 2008 04:51 pm
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Fall is officially here. And it actually feels like it today, although I'm sure SoCal will throw a crappy-ass Indian summer my way just to make me pissy. But hey, for now I'm celebrating the fact that I actually am wearing a shirt with sleeves to my elbows but don't feel like I'm going to die of heat prostration.

Erik and I revisited our lost youth on Friday night and saw a triple bill of the Motels, Berlin, and the Bangles at the L.A. County Fair. All three acts were great, but I have to say I was more impressed by the Motels and Berlin, even though the Bangles were the ostensible headliners. Martha Davis sounds exactly same -- she nailed that high note at the end of her famous cover of "Only the Lonely" as if it hadn't been 25 years since she first recorded it. And I don't know what Terri Nunn has been up to, but apparently part of it has involved drinking the blood of virgins to stay young, because she both looked and sounded amazing. She did a cover of "Somebody to Love" that seriously blew me away, and she wrapped up Berlin's set by singing "Take My Breath Away" while riding on a security guy's shoulders as he walked her through the audience. I'm not sure I'd have that much breath control if I were trying to sing while bobbing around on a rent-a-cop's back. Add to that the most amazing yellow gibbous moonrise over the San Gabriel Mountains and a shooting star as we walked back to the car -- well, it was a wonderful evening.

The funny thing was, that same night I was thinking about a friend (and ex-boyfriend) from junior high/high school, because he was really into music and was the first person who introduced me to punk and new wave and the L.A. music scene. I remembered very clearly listening to the Motels over at his house. We'd lost touch and hadn't really spoken for about ten years. Well, the next day I get a message on my cell phone, and who was it from? Rick! Talk about your freaky coincidences. We played phone tag for a bit and then finally managed to connect in the late afternoon. For some reason he'd been thinking of me and decided to Google me, and he found my contact information that way. He had no idea Erik and I were married, so that floored him, to say the least (he always knew I'd had a crush on Erik back in high school, but the last time Rick and I had spoken, Erik was still married to his ex and I was in a long-term relationship of my own). Anyway, he's become quite the successful illustrator -- he's done work for a bunch of people, including Wizards of the Coast.  He was always drawing back in the day, but he went through some really rough times, so Erik and I are just so, so pleased that he's doing so well for himself. We're trying to figure out when we can all get together, since he's in south Orange County, which is probably about 50 or 60 miles from where we live. I know we'll get it together eventually. I'm just really glad that at least one of the background question marks in my life seems to have been solved.

I also seem to be in remarkably good shape today, considering how much red wine/port/hookah/weed I consumed last night. :-o My brother grows some good shit. (OK, for the record, I do not indulge on a regular basis. But Bill gave me some a while ago, and Erik brought it out last it's all HIS fault.)

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Note to self: While opening a second bottle of wine always seems like a good idea at the time, in retrospect it might have been better to have practiced a bit of moderation. You never know -- you might need those brain cells someday.

Needless to say, no writing happened today.

I did spend some time on, laying groundwork for whenever I do get off my ass and finish the edits to Sympathy, or finish Fringe Benefits, or finish any number of projects I have in various forms of completion. In the midst of doing my homework like a good little writer, I began to question my motivations for doing so. Is it just a burning desire for some sort of validation? Do I still have hidden in some corner of my psyche the little girl who never thought she was good enough, who was subject to frequent helpings of emotional and verbal abuse during her formative years? Because really, when you look at the whole publishing industry through the cool blue-tinted lenses of logic, the thing is a nightmare. You could be fabulous and never get published simply because you had the bad luck to query an agent on a day when she came down with mild food poisoning, or you wrote something that didn't fit the current market (whatever that is, since people's opinions on that seem to change about as frequently as the latest election polls). I think all of us have read absolute dreck that somehow managed to make it through the agent/editor filter. So is any of it valid? Is it all a crap shoot? Am I just wasting time with all this bullshit?

I don't know. Being me, I'll probably keep plugging away at it for awhile longer. But I am starting to wonder if I should give myself a definite cutoff point, a chosen moment in time where I say, "OK, I'm done. I'm (fill in the blank) years old, and all I'm doing is using up some of the precious time I have left on this planet." When you're around the halfway mark on the lifespan yardstick, these concerns suddenly become more pressing.  

Or maybe I'm just tired.

In other news, Erik got a motorcycle. Nothing fancy, just a used Kawasaki Vulcan. He didn't want to learn on an expensive bike, because inevitably a new rider is going to lay the thing down at some point. It does have classic cruiser styling and a nice rumble, plus a two-up seat with a sissy pad for whenever he feels he's ready to take me on as a passenger. I have to say, he does look pretty damn hot sitting on it in his new black leather jacket. And I learned something new today -- apparently I take an XXS in a motorcycle helmet. I told the sales guy that was the only part of me that was extra-extra-small, and he laughed. I didn't buy the helmet since it's going to be a while before I'm riding around on the back of the bike, but I wanted to get a feel for what was out there.

In honor of the approaching autumnal equinox, I changed my layout and also my default icon, since the blue Sarah Brightman Harem one didn't really go with the fall color scheme. I do love fall, even though it comes slowly enough here in Southern California.

I think that's about it. Now I get to go put laundry away. The fun never stops, apparently.

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So, because of the gas crunch and possibly because he's having a slight midlife crisis, Erik's thinking about getting a motorcycle. He actually rides his bike to work a few days a week (it's about 15 miles one way...he's hardcore), but he'd like to have a motorcycle for greater flexibility and mobility. At first we were thinking about just getting a scooter (either 150cc or 250cc model), but after he sat on a couple at a local dealer he decided they were really too small (Erik's a big guy -- 6'4" and probably around 250 lbs). After that he looked at some of the Japanese bikes -- cruiser styles, not sport bikes -- but the ergonomics just weren't that great for him because of his height. His knees would hit the gas tank, or the handlebars would brush against his knees if he turned them too far, that sort of thing. This dealership had mostly the Japanese bikes, but they did have a couple of used Harleys, so Erik decided to take a look at those.

Seriously, I wish I'd had a camera. The first one he tried was a Sportster, and it was OK. The second was another Sporty, but this one had taller handlebars and fit him a lot better. Erik got this little gleam in his eyes when he sat on that one, but the best was the Wide Glide with custom pipes -- man, he got on that thing, and all of a sudden he had this sort of glow, like a kid who's just unwrapped his bestest Christmas present ever. I thought, Uh-oh....

So I have a feeling we're going to end up with a Harley at some point. It's probably going to be a bit of a wait, because they're more expensive, and he just wants to save up and pay cash for one, but I think it's funny, considering the fact that he said he really didn't want a Harley because they're overpriced and you're just paying for the name, blah, blah, blah. But boy, get him actually sitting on one and getting the feel of it, and it's a whole other ball of wax.

Suz, if you see this, let the guys at HB know that Erik's drunk the Kool Aid and is looking for a good deal on a used Sporty or Wide Glide. ;-)
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OK, I think most of you on here know I love my husband very, very much. He's a wonderful guy (98.7% of the time, anyway).


When his daughter is over here for the weekend, it is a totally different ball of wax. Most of the time I just try to stay out of their way, even though I usually get the feeling I'm only here to feed them dinner (I put my foot down on the whole breakfast/lunch thing a long time ago...sorry, but my mother expected me to feed myself for those meals after I was about eight or nine, and I don't see why Kate should be treated any differently).

But OK. I'd hide here in the office and write and surf the 'net or play in Photoshop or do whatever else it is I usually do when I need to keep myself amused. This weekend, however, Erik decides it would be really nifty to get a LAN going so he and Kate could play networked games. Which means he is in here, in the office, in the one fucking sanctuary I have when Kate is here for the weekend (I love my house, but it's not a mansion or anything), hammering away at this stupid first-person shooter game and yelling comments out the door from time to time, since she's on the other side of the house in her room. I can't even go in the front room and watch TV because of the aforementioned kibbitzing that's going on. 

And then when he finally asks me if I'm upset about something, and I tell him, he acts all surprised, like there's no reason in the world why I should be upset that he's taken away the ONE goddamn room in the house where I can have some privacy. The thing that really galls me is he's got a GameCube and a big TV up in the office over the garage, and there's no reason in hell why he couldn't be up there playing a game with Kate, except that he claims this is "more interactive." Excuse me? How is having your kid on one side of the house and you on the other "interactive"?

I'm also irritated because he made bread in the kitchen this morning and made a huge mess that only got a half-assed attempt at cleanup...which meant that of course I had to go back in there and clean things properly...on top of me doing all the laundry and going to the store and hauling in all the frigging groceries and putting them away, since of course he was too busy playing a video game to help out.


And it doesn't help that I updated my Star Wars story last night and haven't gotten one stinking review on it. Sigh.

You know, I remember the days when I actually looked forward to the weekend....


Mar. 4th, 2008 01:24 pm
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Gary Gygax is dead. (He's the guy who invented Dungeons & Dragons, for those of you who aren't quite as geeky as I am.) I fully credit Mr. Gygax for getting Erik and me together, because who knows what would have happened if the cute guy in my guitar class hadn't had those weird character sheets in his notebook, the ones that made me ask, "What are those for?"

And the rest is history. RIP, Mr. Gygax. You helped me and countless others get their inner geek on.  


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