Saturday, Mar. 08, 2003
We were running around yesterday pricing windows which is just about the most boring thing two people can do. By the end of it I was tired and cranky from trying to keep straight things such as argon gas, special cladding, and the bazillion other options that can come with windows.
And here I thought we'd just be buying a few simple boxes with glass in them that we could set in our walls so we could see more of the great outdoors.
About three hours into the project, we both realized that it was going to take some careful study and comparison of features, price and warranties before we settled on our final choice. We gathered up all our pamphlets and quotes and headed back towards the Marnmobile.
Me, I was a beaten woman, ready to crawl back home and whimper softly. The spousal unit, however, is energized by building supply centres. Put him in a cavernous place full of Stuff You Can Use To Build Other Stuff and the guy is mental with happiness.
It's a sickness, I tell you, a sickness.
Hepped up on building supply place endorphins, the spousal unit decided he wanted to see a movie. He decided he wanted to see "Adaptation", which was written by the same guy who wrote "Being John Malkovich". From the reviews I knew this was going to be one of those really weird and wacky movies that I would either love or hate. I was ambivalent.
We decided to walk by the theatre to see if there was a crowd--I'd feel better if the movie was getting good local word of mouth. We saw a woman we know slightly and she stopped us. She'd been given free tickets to the movie and her son decided not to go so she handed the boy's ticket to the spousal unit who promptly declared this An Omen That We Were Meant To Go To This Movie.
I would have to say this was one of the oddest movies I have ever seen. It was good, and I'd recommend seeing it because all the performances were amazing, but I didn't enjoy it. I find it very, very painful to watch other people indulge in self-flagellation, and the writer of this movie did that to himself in this movie.
You know, I used to think that when you got older that you got tougher, that life would give you an ever thicker protective shell. It's not working that way for me. It seems that as I get older my protective shell is getting thinner and thinner. Maybe I need more calcium in my diet or something, eh?
Fortunately, whenever the clouds seem to be filling my horizon, I have wangitude.
The first design ideas for wangitude tee shirts to mark the spousal unit's 50th birthday on April 25 have come in. The four, count 'em four, designs below all come courtesy of the great kindness of Moviegrrl. (I have dropped the image quality a bit to shrink file size but this gives you a sense of them.)
And this one comes from the generosity of Gweenie.
If anyone else wants to take a crack at this, I'll post designs until March 31 and on April 1 choose the wangitude tee shirt I'll give the spousal unit. I'll buy another identical tee shirt as a thank you gift for the artist.
Ah, Wangitude. I've come to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
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