Tuesday, September 30, 2003

This year at the Fair was more sedate than last. Uisce Beatha did not play this year, and combine that with the high entrance fee, most of the Baheads were turned off from going this year. But since I try to make it every year, and I was dying to know how FiFisaurus Rex did in the kntting competition, I decided to treat Big to a day at Strawberry Hill.

We went on Sunday afternoon, after a busy morning of entertaining visiting parents, and showing off potential living spaces to certain bosses who may become roommates and after numerous attempts to have brunch in really crowded restaurants, we finally arrived at the Fair very hungry, so the first thing that we did was plunk down and get food. Big and I agreed that if I paid for the tickets, he'd buy the meal. The meal prices were completely outrageous- one burger, one polish sausage, two large drinks and a large order of fries came to a whopping $26. I am not kidding. And it was so not that great of food.

Next, we traveled over to the trifecta of buildings that hosted booths as well as the arts and crafts competition. FiFisaurus Rex lost. Best in Show was a grey, rather blah afghan. Go figure. A lot of really nice stuff that was colorful and creative were placed lower than I would have placed them, losing out to dull colored but perfectly stitched garments. Last year I heard via the grapevine that the judges are sticklers for stitch perfection rather than style and creativity. It only makes me wanna do more offbeat stuff and keep entering.

Part of the fun of the fair, at least for me, is to travel from booth to booth to examine what enticing trinkets people have- lollipops, pencils, stickers, buttons- to entice people to stop by and check them out. You can always attract a crowd by waving free stuff in their faces. Like most years, most of it was crap I didn't need (what am I going to do with a bumper sticker that says "Virginia State Police: Crush Crime" ? Even FiFi wouldn't really like having it on her carrier) but some of the stuff, like the free nursing handbook that the Lupus Foundation gave me, turned out to be rather nice and valuable. I had a huge bag o' stuff after visiting the boothes this year.

The only ride Big and I took in was the Tilt-A-Whirl. Even though I was in a ride mood, the lines were rather crappy. Plus Big was getting tired, so we stopped for a beer, where I ran into my old boss, Laura. Laura now works at a local hospital as a cardiac tech. "That place was hell!" refering to our last place of employment. She was really excited to hear what I was doing now. "I so could see you doing that! It's real nursing!" She's so much happier than when I worked with her. I am happy for her.

All in all, it was a nice time. Can't wait for next year.

Monday, September 29, 2003

I'm gonna gush shamelessly for this entry. Those with weak stomaches are advised not to read any further.

I'm in love.

Yeah. Who knew???

But it's like something I've never really experienced before. I am still not quite sure about love that lasts forever, or soulmates, or all that other stuff. I'm not one who dwells in the past, and not one who really really plans for the future. But I do know that I haven't felt this happy, safe, or relaxed in a long time. This guy is my best friend, my knight in shining armour, able to look scary hurricanes in the eye and not flinch, meantime I am freaking out as trees fall. He lets me drag him to my aunt's house in the middle of a storm with trees crashing and power grids exploding because I don't feel safe in my house. He watches my puppy to make sure she doesn't pee on my aunt's antique rug so that I can get a little sleep, because he knows, despite my fears, I have to go out and be one-third of the Heartland Hospice Hurricane Patrol. Finally, I wake up at 3:00AM to hear his snoring nearby and it makes me realize we're okay. He makes me feel like a winner at the state fair, even though I didn't win anything in the knitting competition and am afraid of any rides. He doesn't care when I have a run-in with the ex, and in fact strokes my ego by comparing my ex's new girlfriend with certain farm animals that moo and oink at said state fair. He makes me choke with laughter as he does his Mushmouth from Fat Albert impression at the dinner table.

Best yet, around FiFi, he refers to himself as "Daddy."

Yeah. I'm in love.

Hey, Biggs, I hope I didn't embarass ya too much. ;)

Friday, September 26, 2003

FiFi was spayed yesterday. Tonight, she appears uncomfortable and out of sorts. Very clingy. I gave her a bit of puppy percocet this evening, which made her a little loopy. Now she is snuggling with Big. Both of them are sleeping.

I must say it's very nice right here, right now.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

Power rules!

Sunday, September 21, 2003

Blogging from my grandmother's house. We're still without power at the Corner. A few trees down, one on top of my parents' house, but luckly, only minor damage. FiFi is a bit confused, and in attempts to be playful has actually run out into the street a couple of times, which is not good, however, she is okay, and everyone appears to be safe.

This storm was so much worse than I thought it was going to be.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

Okay, Good afternoon! Well, folks, it appears that this storm is packing a bit more of a punch than we expected...just a tad bit more breezy than predicted, so we've decided here at the Corner to formulate, and if needed initiate the Official Mahmmas Hurricane Action Plan.

1) Which means that, in case of an emergency in which residents of the Corner need to evacuate, we will sound out the official Mahmmas Hurricane Action Plan codeword. This codeword is "MASCARA."

2) After the coded alert has been signalled, the Feefer and I will proceed to the designated emergency bunker to await supply delivery. Basically, in laymans terms, we will book it to Grammy and Grampy's and spend the night there, drinking cocoa and eating Famous Amos cookies.

3) This plan has been formulated for the following people: 1) Jenn 2) FiFi. If you are not on the above formentioned list, please do either of the following: 1) Formulate your own damn action plan 2) Make sure you write your name on your limbs with a Sharpee, so that the fuzz can ID you when they find your remains.

That is all.

(seriously, I am here if you guys need me; I got medical supplies. Please heed the advice of Lt. Dan..."don't do anything stupid, like get yourselves killed!")

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

The Official Mahmmas... Hurricane List O' Preparedness:

Granola bars, bread, peanut butter, 2-liters, Mini-muffins, milk, Cheerios and Golden Grahams, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, Pup-Per-Ronis for the Feefer.

Flashlight, buku batteries, Lantern, Cell phone, Seasons I-III of Friends on DVD. And of course, laptop.


Official Dick's Sporting Goods Tiki Torches from The Camping/Lodge section...just in case we need to loot and pillage.

Latest issues of Cosmo and Glamour in case I get the day off.

Love letters, t-shirts and beloved alma mater sweater of my ex...in case we need bandages and kindling. Yep. Definately going to need kindling.

Pager, as I am 1/3 of the Heartland Hospice Hurricane Patrol.

Hey Isabel...bring it on, be-atch!

Sunday, September 14, 2003

Big and I took in a game of Putt-Putt with another Bahead Power Couple, Marian and Heath. First we took in dinner at Ruby Tuesday, where we discussed music and politics. Then we hit the Putt Putt/Arcade place. Big and I hit the Jackpot Ticket Game Jackpot three times, and we ended up with about 400 tickets at the end of the night, which we traded in for a jumbo deck of cards, a necklace for me, a bouncy ball for Big, and candy for the both of us.

Next, while a cool rain drizzled upon us, and sad pop songs played on the loudspeaker, we started playing golf on the intermediate course. Usually I'd rather eat glass than go mini golfing, but this night was so different. Number one, I'm with three other non-competitive, non-golfers, so no matter how bad we sucked, the highest score anyone got was a 4. Also, the crowd I am with consists of some damn funny people, and combining originial one-liners with lines from Happy Gilmore and Caddyshack provided much entertainment. Plus, everyone was really happy and comfortable with one another, with good vibes and love in the air. Heath scored a hole-in-one, and I think he won the game, but the score card fell into a puddle before I could tally up the totals. But that was okay. We all left feeling like we won.

Saturday, September 13, 2003

The staff at the Corner (that would be FiFi and myself) extend their condolences to the families of two immensely talented people- Johnny Cash and John Ritter. I was a huge fan of both. They will be missed.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Be nice to me- I gave blood today.

Be nice to FiFi- although she is French, she wears red, white, and blue bows in her hair with American pride.

We're trying to do our part.

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

"Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you."

We'll miss ya, Warren ( 1947-2003).

Also I'd like to say that today I had the privilage of saying goodbye to a very special client named Joe. I'll miss you too, my friend.

I have found a new motivating factor in getting Fee to obey- Pupperonies.

Now she is snuggled next to me, her head resting on my shoulder. Last Thursday, I watched for a good hour pre-pub as she snored, her tiny body snuggled around the head of an exhausted-from-grand-opening-and-also-snoring-because-he-nodded-off-while-waiting-for-me-to-finish-my-hair Mr. Big, who was occupying her favorite pillow. As I watched the two of them, I noticed that their respirations were the same. They were inhaling and exhaling at the same time. I remember a time she was terrified of him.

Monday, September 08, 2003

Fee and I actually held our own at Miss Becca's Puppy School. That is, after about 45 minutes into the hour-long class.

After forking over $85 in hopes of making FiFi a bit more obedient, we first worked on commands such as "come" and "heel". FiFi was a bit on the stubborn side. I realize now it's all a question of motivation. She became a bit more motivated when I started shoving treats under her nose in an attempt to portray her as a social non-retard. I've decided that next class we'd have a buttload of motivation by having Squeaky Bear and a bag of Beggin Strips handy.

Our class consists of Rummy, Snicker, Barney, Bandit, and of course, FiFi. FiFi seems to like her classmates, especially the male ones. It makes me believe that if she were a kid, she'd be the one on the jungle gym at recess hanging upside down so her skirt flies up over her head and all the boys see her underwear. Like mother, like daughter.

Also, last night, FiFi played with Rusty, who is staying with his human brother, Mr. Big. Rusty was immediately smitten with the Fee, so much so that he covered her in kisses until she was damp. FiFi responded by playing "The Let's Piss Rusty Off By Running Under The Furniture So He Can't Get Me And Thus He Barks Real Loud For A Long Time" Game. That was followed by "The Let's Run and Let Rusty Chase Me Through The Living Room and Into The Kitchen, Knowing That Rusty Will Never Catch Me" Game. They were good friends.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

The wedding was very nice, rather conservative, meaning there was no alcohol nor any rock-n-roll at the reception. Luckly, there was an adjacent bar, with a friendly bartender who made a vodka tonic look amazingly like the water that was served. The food spread was rather decent, the hosts very inviting and inclusive, and all in all, it was fun seeing Big in a suit. The couple du jour met, ironically, at another wedding.

I was happy, however, that I am no longer preparing to wear the white. All I could think during the ceremony was "don't do it!" I've come to terms with the facts that my ex-fiancee stopped loving me last September and that I really wasn't ready to get married, to have someone living in my face 24-7-365, to pump out young'uns once a year...although the registry at Nordstrom is rather fabulous ("the couple are registered at Nordstrom's, hell, just make it easy on yourself and go to the Women's Salon Shoes department and ask for Jonathan...").

Big's working today, so I solo-ed breakfast at Aunt Sarah's. It has been so wicked gorgeous these past few days, so the majority of the time I spent outside with Feefer, reading mags and giving her an occasional pat. Ahh, the good life.


Pre-Wedding Attendance Checklist:

My suit-- Ann Taylor...Gorgeous

My shoes-- Kate Spade...Fabulous

My date-- Absolutely adorable

My doggysitter-- Grampy (AKA Dad)

My accessories-- Was debating between silver or pearls. Decided to go with pearls. More wedding-ish.

My make-up and nail polish-- Bold yet tasteful...a combo of Revlon, Clinique, Benefit, Hard Candy, and Chanel.

My attitude-- Cynical yet slightly hopeful for the newly nupped.

Friday, September 05, 2003

The new mall in Short Pump has opened to a lot of pomp and circumstance. I found Kate Spade shoes I can wear to the wedding tomorrow, at my new fantabulous store, Nordstrom, and a new friend in the form of Jonathan, my personal shoe shopper. Since Big works at the new Dick's Sporting Goods, I have plenty of an excuse to browse the shoes at Nordstrom any day, any time. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw.

In other news, FiFi and I begin Ms. Becca's Puppy School at Holiday Barn on Monday.

Tuesday, September 02, 2003

I picked up the latest Warren Zevon CD, The Wind, after I had heard a touching interview with his son on NPR. Zevon is best known for wacky hits like "Werewolves of London," and "Lawyers, Guns, and Money." The CD was composed and produced rapidly as Zevon's last project; doctors gave him approximately three months to live after diagnosing him with terminal cancer. This was more than three months ago, and Zevon is still here with us. I was intrigued by it not only from a personal, music-lovin' stance, but also from a professional one...I wanted to hear what a hospice patient would sing to me.

I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I was inspired, I was saddened, and by the end of the CD, I was drained-much like the feelings I feel when I visit the patient as he or she dies. From a hospice perspective, the CD is a metaphor for the dying person's journey. Zevon starts out by reviewing his life in such tracks as "My Dirty Life And Times," and "El Amor De Mi Vida." From there we hear him rally on "The Rest of The Night" ("Why stop now? Let's party for the rest of the night...You wanna go home? Why, honey? When? We may never get this chance again!") and you hear him fight a losing battle on sonngs with titles like "Rub Me Raw," "Numb As A Statue," and "Prison Grove."

But the two songs that hit on the gut level have to Zevon's cover of the Dylan megaclassic, "Knockin' On Heaven's Door," and a very tough-on-the-ears lament called "Please Stay" in which Zevon pleads to whomever is listening not to be left alone. This phrase has been uttered an infinite amount of times to a hospice nurse. To hear it set to music with a beautiful melody and Emmylou Harris on background vocals gives me chills.

In case you wanna know more about how Warren Zevon is doing these days, the liner notes provided a website. Also, do yourself a favor and pick up The Wind, as well as the other multitude of CDs Zevon has put out. Good stuff.

Monday, September 01, 2003

The latest issue of Rolling Stone, which I picked up today on an outing with Big, boasts "The 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time." The music critics here at The Corner, who basically are guesting blogger John "Mr. Big" Y. and myself have decided to write a two part commentary on this recent article. I've decided, since I'm the equilvalent of the straight man in this Martin & Lewis comedy duo of a relationship, I'd do the more unbiased Ben Fung Torres- inspired part, while John Y., since his reaction to the list was more of a physical nature than my own (I believe the reaction bordered along the lines of :"wha' the F*CK...no Zakk Wylde? F*Ckin Rolling Stone, f*ck them up their stupid a$$es!") will go all out Hunter S. Thompson style.
(Disclaimer: This is the opinion of two non-musically inclined yet rather die-hard music fans who happen to be carrying on a very formal conversation over Krispy Kreme Doughnuts and sporting T-shirts that feature Care Bears and the phrase "I smile because you've all finally driven me insane." Please don't take it as the be-all, end-all stance on rock-and-roll. We're sure we're going to be calling each other numerous times during the week dropping names of other unfortunate guitarists that failed to make the precious cut.)
So with that, we cue the music:

Who was the top 5:
5) Robert Johnson
4) Eric Clapton
3) B.B. King
2) Duane Allman
1) Jimi Hendrix

My Top Five:
For #5 and #4, I'd leave Johnson and Clapton. I'd put Jimmy Page as #2 (he made RBs list at #9), and switch Hendrix to #3. My #1 guitarist is B.B. King.

Others: I must disagree with the choice of #12, Kurt Cobain. Although a superior songwriter, I find him at best a fair guitarist. Also I am disturbed that he scored higher on the list than Carlos Santana (#15), George Harrison (#21), Bo Diddley (#37), and Robby Krieger of The Doors (#91).

Who should have been on the list but wasn't (according to me): Slash, Bob Dylan, John Mellencamp, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen, Roy Orbison, Bootsy Collins, Zakk Wylde, Bonnie Raitt, John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, South Wind's Don, Richie Sambora, and Ted Nugent.

Who should have scored higher than they did, otherwise known as the "I can't believe Cobain ranked friggin #12!" category: Greg Ginn (#99)
Angus Young (#96), Eddie Van Halen (#70), Keith Richards (#10), Stephen Stills (#28),
Jeff Beck (#14), Frank Zappa (#45), Lou Reed (#52), Randy Rhoads (#85) and PETE TOWNSHEND (#50???)

Who had no business being there: The Edge (#24), Jack White (#17), Kirk Hammett (#11), Ike Turner (#61)

Please see John Y's blog, Mixed Nuts, for more commentary. Comments can be sent via FiFi at the link to the right of the page. Just keep it nice. To be continued...?

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