dotty. September 16, 2010
Not much to report today — just my joy over our new throw pillows. I picked four of them up at Ikea over the weekend and couldn’t be happier.
range life. September 15, 2010
This past Sunday, Annette and I hit the road at 6:30 am and arrived in the Ikea Twin Cities parking lot at 11:15. After meatballs and mashed potatoes we conquered the Swedish discount mart and scored some fantastic bargains. Annette picked up a darling desk chair and I found an area rug for $15. Sweet, sweet victory!
Then it was on to the Mall of America for some serious Sephora time, a relaxing cocktail and a few other stops. Oh, and don’t worry – I finally got my hands on some Lacoste hand towels.
Then it was time for the main event: the Pavement reunion show. Fortunately our hotel was right across the street from (the legendary) Roy Wilkins auditorium. The concert was amazing–it was as if I was transported back to 1997. Everyone was doing the knee-jerk dance and trying their hardest not to show the bliss on their faces, but I could still feel the joy in the room. I know I was glowing. It was great to hear so many of my life’s signature songs live again….between the liquor and the music I felt like I was 23. Sadly, the next day’s headache proved that is no longer the case.
We were up and at ’em early in the morning, and on the road by 9:00 am. We had less than 24 hours in the Twin Cities, but I loved every minute of it.
PS: if you are ever hung over and driving through Osage, Iowa stop at R&Bs for a chocolate malt. You’re welcome.
PPS: our 10+ hours in the car resulted in some pretty creative moments. Annette proved she should be writing songs for a living, and I came up with a jingle for her family’s business: when God breaks a window/we open our doors/Knebel windows. Imagine it sung in a shrill falsetto, coming out of your radio on an early Sunday morning and you’ll get the idea.
september 7th. I mean 8th. I think. September 8, 2010
I keep pretty rigorous track of my projects and time with my combo day, week and month-at-a-glance calendar. Yet I never seem to know what the date is. Go figure.
This week’s farm adventure wasn’t so bad, mostly thanks to the gorgeous weather. It wasn’t even 80 degrees. We spent four hours picking green beans. I hope this holiday season, when you’re digging into your green bean casserole, you stop and offer a brief thank-you to the bean pickers of the world. Because holy shit, there’s a reason it’s called back-breaking labor.
First off, there’s no automated way to pick green beans. The plants grow in a sort of tangle, and you have to sweep each plant repeatedly to find every damn bean. And make no mistake, green beans are assholes that will hide from you. It take two hands to break off a bean, because you have to support the vine when you snap–otherwise you’ll break the bean or rip out the plant. You can’t wear gloves when you do this, because they’re too clumsy. Even today, my index fingers are raw and a little stained from the bean friction.
Did I mention there’s no comfortable way to pick beans? You start out straddling a row, bent at the waist. Then you’re crouching, still straddling the row. After a bit you’re down on the side, maybe on both knees, maybe on just one. Finally, you’re sitting on the ground, trying to find just a bit of relief for your lower back. Two days later and my hamstrings are still taut — and this is after only four hours of work, lots of stretching and a massage. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to pick beans day in, day out. Big ups to the people who do – I’m sure their pay doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. (No, I’m not sorry about that.)
trapped. September 2, 2010
Yeah, yeah, yeah – I know people complaining about the humidity and oppressive heat we’ve endured this summer is boring. I agree. However, as the weather shifts into something more tolerable, I can’t help but rejoice and do a little tap dance.
A couple of weeks ago it was beyond hot and sticky, particularly on Saturday night. We don’t have central air, so at night I go to bed with an open window, a cranked-up ceiling fan and my prayers. Oh, and don’t forget my trusty friend who makes the sleep happen–generic Ambien. Anyway, that night I went to sleep thanks to my little friend, but woke up a couple of hours later thanks to nature’s call. This in itself is unusual, and I was slightly disoriented and in a happy little sleep fog. Then I tried to open the bedroom door.
It was stuck. And I mean STUCK. I pulled so hard I ripped the doorknob off the door. At this point I was so confused and had to pee so badly I started to cry. Then I began knocking on the wall, calling out “Jason! Jason! Please!” What I didn’t realize was my cries were barely audible and my knocking was on the hallway wall, so he couldn’t hear that, either. I’m not sure how long it took me to figure out knocking on the wall behind his chair would make more sense, but eventually Jason came to rescue me and I made it to the bathroom in time (I know you were worried.)
Oh, and Jason fixed the doorknob with no trouble.