June 27, 2008
The Natasha Chronicals: Transition
Day 1: Thursday
Ms. WAS sits through a long afternoon meeting while Mr. MMB takes Maya to the vet for a set of routine vaccines. He has been instructed to pick up two cat carriers, and to convince the vet to give him sedatives to calm Natasha, Ms. WAS's angry and spiteful pet. Mr. MMB fulfills his duty admirably—explaining to the vet that simple children's Benadryl to "take the edge off" was not going to cut it—and the vet hands over some cat prozac.
Day 3: Saturday
Ms. WAS and Mr. MMB arrive at her place, with cat prozac and carriers in tow. The chubby cat Madchen walks right up to them, amicably hopping into the carrier. Natasha, suspecting something, hides under the bed—hissing and spitting as Ms. WAS pushes a plate of delectable prozac-laced strawberry yogurt as near as she dares. The yogurt, daintily licked, immediately produces foaming at the mouth and more growling. Prozac-embedded cream cheese receives an angry paw swat and dramatic flailing. So does prozac-embedded cheddar cheese. Ms. WAS and Mr. MMB cut their losses, grab Madchen, and hit the road.
Day 5: Monday
Having her food removed two days before, Natasha is more amenable to prozac-tainted food. Ms. WAS is delighted to see the cat imbibe her treats, but unfortunately the prozac isn't strong enough. In fact, the drugs seem to only enrage her more. There is no coaxing her out from under the bed. Thirty minutes of sweaty pushing and prodding (by Ms. WAS) results only in tiger-like growling, frantic spitting, and labored breathing (from the cat).
Day 6: Tuesday
Ms. WAS repeats the process of the day before, but this time with a sweatshirt to protect her arms and two heavy winter mittens to protect her hands—including the finger that has not quite recovered from the last moving attempt. Natasha is more amenable to the prozac-laced chicken in gravy, but once again, Ms. WAS makes no progress. In the attempt, however, bladder and bowel control is lost (by the cat) and tears ensue (by Ms. WAS).
Day 8: Thursday
Ms. WAS takes her case back to the vet, where she explains at length about the cat-moving-process. Stories are exchanged about hysterical cats, and eventually Ms. WAS leaves armed with enough sedative to kill Natasha three times over. She arrives at her condo again, determined that today is the day it will happen. And lo and behold, the sedatives are eaten (tucked in some pill treats), 90 minutes pass, and Ms. WAS cautiously pops her head into the bedroom. She has pulled up the mattress, removed all the portable furniture, and thinks all she will need to do is pick up the sleeping cat and pop her into the carrier. Unfortunately, the sedatives have only made it difficult for Natasha to walk—her rage is still in full effect. Biting her tongue, Ms. WAS girds her loins (literally) with a sweatsuit, re-dons the winter mittens, and uses a combination of two bath towels, a gigantic fleece bathrobe, and a strategically placed tennis shoe to manhandle the cat out from under the bedside table and into the carrier. More excretions are produced (by the cat), more tears are shed (by Ms. WAS)—but in the end, girl and cat wend their way down the 11 stories and into the car, ready for their trip to their new home.
Day 9: Friday
It's just after midnight. Mr. MMB and Ms. WAS have crawled into bed, exhausted from the day's activities. The puppy is sleeping in her crate, Madchen is somewhere eating her eighth meal of the day, and Natasha has groggily crept under their covers. Ms. WAS gets up for a glass of water, and when she returns, Natasha flips out—biting and lashing out—and refusing to cede an inch of the mattress back to her. Mr. MMB foolishly reaches out a tentative hand and is rewarded with a snarling attack. A tense twenty minute passes, and eventually everyone settles down. And then the puppy barks.
June 16, 2008
Cohabitating
With this blog entry, I am now switching from categorizing Mr. MMB under "boys" and moving him to "family". One small step for Movable Type, one great leap for Ms. Write Again Soon. Click on the picture to see the latest photos of Maya and her first swimming lesson in our backyard pond.
So a couple of weeks ago we had The Talk. The one about our respective living environments. The one about raising a child ("devil puppy") in a single home with an everyday routine. The one about sharing our lives together in a long-term, shared bathroom kind of way. And while we won't make any permanent moves until the end of the summer (when my Big Idea internships finish up), we are making major steps towards cohabitation.
We've gotten a melange of herb plants, which are happily thriving on the living room deck, and a solar umbrella (that lights up at night) to go on the bedroom deck, where we lay in the hammock and look over the community pond. I've gotten half of the walk-in closet, and there is a new dresser and bedside table arriving for me later this week. Upstairs in the loft, our project next weekend is to set up a home office for me, so that the Big Idea doesn't have to be run from the living room couch.
I brought a couple of gigantic wheels of cheese from my trip to Wisconsin, and so we felt obligated to buy a fondue set--otherwise we were going to be looking at 9 months of cheese-with-every-meal. And there is a new recycling bin in the kitchen, as Mr. MMB's concession to my eco-habits.
In perhaps the biggest transition, we will be moving the cats over to Mr. MMB's house later this week. Since I've only spent 12 hours there in the last 3 weeks, we figured it was time to reunite the family pets. Madchen is still pretty friendly, but Natasha has practically gone wild, so at Maya's vet appointment tomorrow I'll be begging for a knock-out drug (or possible a taser) to subdue her long enough to transition to her new home.
Of course, there are some hitches, including my mom's near daily phone calls espousing the horrors and the risks of cohabitation-without-marriage. And it means that when I suddenly need to go back to my place for a couple of days (like tomorrow, with Mr. MMB on a last-minute training course and me needing to be close to the Big Idea office) I am completely witless. I anticipate a lot of confused looks--from Maya wondering why we're back in the urban jungle, from the cats being horrified at this jumpy puppy, and from me pondering why my place suddenly feels like a hotel.
Still, I suppose the "off times" makes the nights when we experience peaceful, domestic bliss all the more rewarding. Especially when it's Mr. MMB's turn to take Maya our for her midnight potty break.
Posted by madchen at 12:19 AM | Comments (2)May 21, 2008
A Baby or a Puppy - You Decide
Click on the picture to see the entire album. Also note how absurdly large Madchen has become (the last picture of the bunch)--especially when compared to a puppy that weighs less than half of what she does. I didn't really understand what people were saying when they walked in and gasped "that is the biggest cat I've ever seen!". Now it makes more sense.
Maya is quickly becoming a pest--chewing printer cables in the blink of an eye, barking when I put her in the crate at night (although just at my house, apparently the crate at Mr. MMB's suits her perfectly), and stopping dead in the middle of the crosswalk despite my pleading to at least make it to the other side before scratching her ear.
But at times like right now, when she's sacked out on the towel at my feet, paws quivering in a bird-chasing dream, she is absolutely perfect. Even her puppy breath is sweet. And now that I've turned 30 (my birthday was Sunday), a puppy is just the thing I need to hit the snooze on my biological clock.
Posted by madchen at 12:15 AM | Comments (3)May 13, 2008
Where Is Your Daddy?
A wise man (Ms. Secret Blog's Boy) told me that when adopting a puppy, never be fooled by the snuggly quiet one. She's always sick. He is indeed a wise, wise man.
It turns out that Maya doesn't just have a little head cold. Nope, she has a “severe case of kennel cough”. After 30 hours of no food and water, our poor little girl could barely stand up and her hacking cough made me cringe. Another trip to the vet ensued, with a bunch of tests, two shots of sub-cutaneous fluid, and crying (from me) and howling (from her). Mr. MMB managed to avoid the whole incident by being “out of cell phone range” at a training session across the country. Lucky man.
Back when Jessica was in college she had a guinea pig that managed to break a leg. She made an emergency trip to the pet hospital, shelled out our mom's credit card, and brought to bear all of the guinea-pig-saving-technology available to man. Unfortunately, the guinea pig didn't make it, but the bill arrived nonetheless.
At the time, the rest of the family marveled at the string of logic that would lead Jessica to spend such extravagant amounts on a pet. I felt the same way until today. As I sat in the vet office with Maya curled up on my lap, whimpering and leaking fluid from an injection site in her back, I would have sold my soul to make her feel better.
Incidentally, have you ever force-fed a dog? It's not pretty, let me tell you. But it seems to be working since she is still pretty sacked out, but I did notice a little tail wagging during our last potty break. With any luck she'll be back on her feet in a couple of days and I can get back to my normal non-hysterical self.
May 12, 2008
And Baby Makes Three
“Did you get everything that you wanted?”
This year my birthday (celebrated a week early) made up for 29 years of ho-hum celebrations. Actually, that's not true. I had a kick-ass roller skating party when I was eight, and received a fabulous surprise party when I was fifteen. On the other hand, I spent last year's birthday crying over s'mores at Cosi while Janie explained to me that it was wrong to be sad on your birthday.
But this year might be the best of all. As I lay in bed with Mr. MMB last night, and he asked me if I had a good birthday, I honestly replied that it exceeded my wildest expectations. Not only did we successfully throw a BBQ at his house with my entire family in attendance, but we also got a new bike rack for my car. Jess and Mr. Eagle Six made plans to take us to Wine in the Woods next weekend, and my mom and dad gave me a framed copy of the Washington Post article of the Big Idea. There is even an additional present coming next week on my REAL birthday.
But the thing that made this birthday extra special, the one that made me giddy with excitement, and the one that gave me butterflied and indigestion, was the small black bundle of fur sleeping at the crate at the foot of our bed.
Yup. We got a puppy. Maya is an 11-week old lab mix (she looks like a purebred to me, but who knows when some St. Bernard or Chihuahua tendency might appear?) that we got from the animal rescue on Saturday. Aside from a little head cold (a trip to the vet within 24 hours of adoption was a nice way to emphasize the extravagant costs of puppy ownership), she is perfect in every way. Being a bit sick, she's been extra quiet and snuggly—which suits me just fine since I have no puppy skills and am a bit terrified at the prospect of single motherhood this week while Mr. MMB is on a business trip to Seattle. But armed with lots of treats, an every-two-hours potty routine, and Puppies for Dummies, I am feeling as confident as a new mom can be.
Right now Maya is sleeping on a towel in the kitchen while I wash her bed (it got a little snotty). We dropped Mr. MMB off at the airport yesterday morning at 7:30 a.m., so by my calculations I've successfully kept her alive on my own for 26 hours. And since we're staying at Mr. MMB's place for the foreseeable future (except for a few quick trips home to feed the cats and pick up more clothing), the likelihood that Natasha (also known as “the cat who will kill and eat your puppy”) will instigate violence before Mr. MMB's return on Thursday is minimal.
And now, a few amusing excerpts from the past week:
Friday Night: discussing my turning 30 and the trauma associated with my pending old age
Mr. MMB: Don't worry, I like more mature women.
Ms. WAS: More mature? What does that mean? It's not like I'm 45!
(amicable disagreement ensues)
Saturday Night: revisiting the topic
Ms. WAS: Are you sorry that you called me old last night?
Mr. MMB: I never said you were old. But I am sorry that I called you mature.
(amicable disagreement ensues again)
August 19, 2007
The Slippery Slope of Single-ness
Tonight, I went to my last military ball. Now that my dad has retired, there will no longer be fancy military-industry trade shows where I end up vomiting in the bathroom from too much vodka (swag from the Saab table) while he waits patiently outside. No more balls commemorating various important military dates where I get mistaken for my dad's second wife. No more all-expenses paid trip to see Nascar races…oh wait, that one never happened because my dad was too busy to prioritize that very important adventure.
So this is the last hurrah.
I was all set to go with Mr. HSBF, who happens to also be commemorating this particular Navy holiday. But then he was shipped off out-of-state to a week of training. And it looked like I was going to end up sitting alone at the table.
Then a secondary option was suggested. There is a similarly aged admiral's daughter that I have never met, but whom has been often suggested as a potential friend. Since her parents were supposed to attend the ball on Saturday, why not see if she would like to go too? Turns out that her parents weren't going to the ball, and she's out of town this week. So while we're still going to get together for coffee, I was once again single for the ball.
I had resigned myself to the single state, when a third option was presented to me. Well, not so much presented as announced as already arranged. Yes, dear readers, my date for the evening was none other than my dear, sweet, 6-year old niece.
Actually, she was the best date I've ever had to one of these things. She shared her cake during the long speeches, insisted that we swing dance to every single song (she even likes to lead!), and was suitably enthusiastic when we "won" the silent auction for a margarita party basket. It was even nice not to be the one complaining that my feet hurt at the end of the night.
It was, after all, a nice last hurrah.
August 08, 2007
God Have Mercy on Their Souls
Since retiring a few weeks ago, my dad has been immersing himself in the joys of day-to-day civilian life. It has not been a pretty transition.
Two weeks ago he got his first personal laptop EVER, and needed a full 8 days to figure it all out. Apparently, he wanted to go through the entire set-up process, but got befuddled (if you can call loud sighing and occasional swearing "befuddled) by the fact that the computer kept prompting him to register his programs online, but failed to automatically connect with the internet.
There was also some muttering about a lack of CDs with the associated Microsoft Office--or perhaps it was that it was already pre-installed, but didn't seem to have the registration codes listed anywhere, thus allowing him only 25 uses before locking him out completely.
He and I spent several hours on the phone with the Comcast, and then the Linksys people, trying to get the wireless internet in the house set up properly so that everyone in the house could check email at the same time. It was only after approximately 45 minutes that I was able to wrestle the phone away from him and talk to the customer service person directly. As I followed their simple instructions, I could still hear my dad wondering aloud why it all had to be so complicated.
Today, my dad chose to inflict his rage against the mortgage people, who have somehow contrived to arrange a money transfer to the new bank in such a way that daily interest is being charged by both institutions for the few days in which the money is in transit. The money isn't the issue--it's more the fact that, to quote a certain incensed man in our house, "the entire financial industry is set up solely for their benefit, to the detriment of the borrower."
Seems reasonable enough. But when I pointed out that using foul language directed at the customer service person on the other end of the line was unlikely to have any positive effect, he claimed that the goal was not to actually get the bank to waive the charges. It was only "to get him to admit that he's screwing me". The phone call lasted more than an hour, as every line item was reviewed, contested, abandoned, and then revisited anew.
Let this serve as an open warning to all customer service agents worldwide. There is a retired 2-star admiral on the loose. He's used to having a staff deal with these issues, and now is determined to set things right himself. He's on a quest. And he's got nothing but time.
Posted by madchen at 12:00 AM | Comments (2)July 05, 2007
So Ms. Write Again Soon, When Is It Going To Be Your Turn?
Jess and Mr. Angel of the Morning got hitched on Saturday night. (Incidentally, Mr. Angel of the Morning will now be called Mr. Eagle Six in accordance with his wishes and in honor of his new status as my brother-in-law.)
I was the maid of honor AND the photographer AND the newly-off-the-rebound woman of the night. Yes, dear reader, my self-inflicted "coi-atus" officially ended at midnight on June 30th. Unfortunately, Mr. HSBF (my date, pictured below in slightly fuzzy format thanks to Janie's camera prowess) was on call at the hospital the next morning and thus left the party at 1 a.m., narrowly escaping with his dignity and honor intact.
All was not lost, however, and at approximately 2:37 a.m. I enthusiastically bounded back into the world of "intoxicated wedding sex with members of your newly expanded family, albeit only by marriage thank goodness". I will spare you the details--not because they aren't hot and drrty and highly entertaining, but mostly because I was sworn to secrecy by the gentleman in question because he is just SURE that knowing of our adventures would make Mr. Eagle Six's head explode. And no one wants that.
Anyway, the wedding itself was lovely. Jess looked radiant, the flowers were perfectly in bloom, the food was un-terrible, and much merriment was had by all attendees--including the ones who made an impromptu ho'down in the corner.
And just so you know, if one more person asks me "so Jen, when is it going to be your turn" I might have to take those leftover long stem roses and shove them into their eyeballs, making a particular point to brush the thorns against the corneas for emphasis as I shout IF YOU KNOW OF ANY SINGLE GUYS YOU MIGHT CONSIDER SENDING THEM THIS WAY YOU ASSHOLE BECAUSE REALLY I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN PINE AWAY ABOUT MY SINGLE STATUS IN BETWEEN SHAGGING ANONYMOUS MEN (WHO REALLY ARE NOW TECHNICALLY RELATED TO ME) THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Posted by madchen at 09:11 PM | Comments (3)May 20, 2007
At This Point...
Picture it, dear reader. I've just walked downstairs and am about to get in the car and run downtown for a meeting. Janie is playing with Play-doh in the kitchen. My mom is doing something in the dining room.
Mom: Jen, I've found a guy for you!
Janie: A guy for what Aunt Jen?
Me: What?
Mom: I've found a guy for you.
Me: Where?
Janie: A guy for WHAT Aunt Jen?!?
Mom: Well, actually Lisa found him. I can't even remember how it came up.
Me: [Doubtfully] Really.
Janie: AUNT JEN, A GUY FOR WHAT?!?
Mom: Aunt Jen is always complaining that I don't help her to meet boys, and so now I've found one.
Janie: Oh. [Goes back to playing with the Play-doh.]
Me: Who is this guy and where did you find him?
Mom: I don't actually know anything about him. I think he's 30 or 32.
Me: Hmmm.
Mom: Actually, Lisa said he was 28 at first. But you don't mind, right? I mean at this point...
Me: [raised eyebrow] At "this point"?
Mom: Well, um, you know what I mean...once you're almost thirty...
Me: [two raised eyebrows]
Mom: I don't mean...I just meant...now that...it's not like you're just out of college...
Me: Just move on, immediately. What else do you know about him?
Mom: Well, Lisa said that she might invite him to the next ball. Apparently, he likes to get dressed up and go to fancy things.
Me: Oh.
Mom: Does that make him a little gay?
Me. Maybe, but you know, at this point...
Janie: Yeah, Aunt Jen, at this point you are getting OLD!!
Posted by madchen at 10:30 PM | Comments (0)February 26, 2007
Things I Learned This Weekend
1. Despite thinking many women in Hollywood dress like, ahem, ladies of the night, my dad has a strange fascination with Celine Dion. Let us never speak of this again.
2. One of the most satisfying experiences is teaching a child to ride a bike sans training wheels. It is a balancing act far beyond the laws of physics--trying to get a stubborn and timid 5-year old to stick it out twice around the track, even after riding off into the bushes and steering wildly back and forth, and even being in tears a couple of times. But seeing her running in triumph back to the car, bursting to tell everyone back at the house--it made me think that kids might be worth the trouble after all. Maybe. But probably not.
3. It's possible to have a great second date that involves a three hour dinner with wine and dessert and a trip to Starbucks afterwards and then two more hours of talking and then a quick kiss goodnight--after behaving ridiculously inappropriate on the first date. Instead of it being frustrating, it's actually kind of sweet.
4. Girls have an incredible power over guys--especially guys who are a teensy bit insecure about their, ahem (again), performance. And what's even more strange is that it's all about perception...not whether a guy is actually good in bed (because wouldn't that vary from girl to girl?) but whether or not he thinks he is good in bed. It's a bizarre world to peer into, let me assure you.
Posted by madchen at 12:41 AM | Comments (0)December 10, 2006
Ode to My Sister
The family was sitting around on this lazy Sunday afternoon, reading the newspaper, playing on the Internet, and generally avoiding anything too productive. There was talk of going for a walk, or perhaps even doing some Christmas shopping, but in the end the thought of taking a shower was just too overwhelming.
I casually asked Jessica what I should write about, and she responded that any of the following were appropriate topics for Write Again Soon:
-- Why my sister is my hero.
-- Why I'd like to be more like my sister.
-- Why my sister inspires me.
But what I'd really like to talk about is the conversation that followed, when Jessica shifted around on the couch and said:
"Sometimes I feel like a walrus beached on the sand."
Yeah.
"Especially when I have to flop around to even sit up."
Yes, dear reader, this is a woman who inspires me on a daily basis.
Posted by madchen at 08:19 PM | Comments (2)July 10, 2006
Because My Life Isn't Complicated Enough
After a restless night, I woke up this morning to discover that the guys who cut the lawn had inadvertantly cut the cable line. That means no cable television, no internet service, and NO HOME PHONE LINE.
So now, in the midst of my family crisis, my house is an island of isolation. I can't do work (no internet), I can't distract myself with television (no cable), I can't be sure that people can get ahold of me (no home phone).
Geez, it's not been a very good start to the week.
On the other hand, I did finally get to talk to my dad, who commiserated over the cable line. He's off to do more invasive tests (like ones where they poke a little wire into his brain), since the MRI and CAT scan gave back "suspicious but inconclusive" results). He feels fine--just with a slight headache which he attributes to not being allowed a cup of morning coffee.
So for now, we're all in stasis mode. I'll be here for at least the rest of the day, and hopefully by tomorrow the cable will be restored. In the meantime, I'm sitting in a Starbucks with internet access and my cell phone, which has overnight become my new best friend.
Posted by madchen at 04:05 PM | Comments (1)July 09, 2006
Stop
My dad is in an ICU on the other side of the country.
This weekend was supposed to be a much-needed pocket of alone time, with my parents in Oregon for a wedding and my sister and Janie in San Diego for the week. I've been reveling in the alone-ness of it all--walking around naked, hours of solitude, messes that only *I* would make. But when I returned to the house tonight and heard my mother's voice on the answering machine, being alone was suddenly a terrible fate bestowed by an unmerciful god.
"...can't remember anything from the last 48 hours...getting a CAT scan now...blood in the spinal cord...suggestive of bleeding in the brain...waiting for the neurosurgeon...will call you later when I know more..."
I was unable to get in touch with my mom or my sister. As I stood staring out the kitchen window, my phone in my hand, I realized I have no one else to call...this is why people are desperate for committed relationships.
Much like having my life flash before my eyes, I saw the faces of all my friends and recent amorous encounters. I could call her, but she lives so far away--and what could she do really? I could call him, but we don't really have that kind of relationship. I don't feel comfortable having a nervous breakdown in front of her--it would be too weird. My recent feelings of alienation (self-imposed, I assure you) seemed to rise up before me and cackle with irony.
I paced the house for a good twenty minutes, fluctuating between panicky sobs and a hollow calm. The phone, still clutched in my hand, refused to ring and I couldn't think straight enough to make a plan. Realizing I was a short hop away from full-blown hysteria, I decided to bite the bullet and call Ms. ADA, who had just this past week encouraged me to lean on my friends more. Without hesitation, she flew to my side "just to sit with you until you hear something". I have never been so grateful to have her as a friend.
Now, several hours later, I have been in contact with both my mom and my sister. My dad has been admitted to the ICU, and it's still unclear what the problem is--although his memory is coming back in pieces. We'll know more in the next 24 hours, but if Write Again Soon goes dark for a while, it's entirely likely that I've made a trip out to Oregon. Stay tuned.
Posted by madchen at 11:59 PM | Comments (5)May 16, 2006
Mother's Day Weekend
On Saturday, I juggled a Mother's Day Tea Party (hosted by the women of the Write Again Soon family) and an evening with the May Birthday Girls. While the timing was a little tight, it went off without a hitch.
Four hours of sweeping, baking, vacuuming, washing dishes, and making tiny sandwiches paid off when 2 dozen people showed up to celebrate Mother's Day. Half of the group was my friends (and their mothers) and the other half was my mom's friends (and their kids). Jess came along for the ride, but didn't have any guests of her own (except for Janie, who by herself is enough of a guest for anyone to handle). We sipped tea, ate quiche, nibbled lady fingers, and generally caught up on everyone's news. Of particular note was the just-noticed ability of our men to pull together an "afternoon tea" look that was both manly and sophisticated, yet with a touch of tea-time panache. Well done indeed.
Of course, the tea ran over its anticipated schedule (how could it not, with such delightful guests?) and I had only 2 minutes to change out of my dress into jeans and a sweater for my evening with Ms. ADA (two times in one weekend!) and Ms. Fomer Co-Worker and Current Poker-Playing Friend (PPF from now on) of sushi and basketball.
We drove down to the Verizon Center and caught a meal of sushi and tapas at Sushi Go Round and Tapas, a weird combination I know. Nonetheless, it was delicious and a perfect start to the evening. We delved into gossipy things (like girls do) and confirmed that we are, undoubtedly, far more perfect than the average person on the street.
We finished up the evening at the Mystics pre-season game. Ms. ADA has season tickets--perhaps the best seats in the entire place, so we had the perfect view to watch the Mystics beat the Houston Comets. I'm not a huge basketball fan, so I probably missed a lot of the more technical aspects of the game, but I thoroughly enjoyed it anyway. And no matter what everyone else thinks, I stand by my comment that a constantly moving basket would enliven the game. When the NBA finally decides to try it, I want everyone to remember that *I* was the originator of that idea.
Posted by madchen at 11:57 AM | Comments (0)May 08, 2006
Weekend Update
This weekend was chock full of adventure. In no particular order...
I saw the Nrityagram Dance Ensemble at GMU Center for the Arts. It was billed as follows:
The dancers of Nrityagram live in isolation, immersing themselves in a holistic approach to Indian mythology, Sanskrit poetry, yoga, and the martial arts. Sacred Space adds a sensuous and feminine aura to the classical dance once performed in Hindu temples.
What we got was second row center seats to see six incredible agile and lithe women contort themselves into Bollywood-meets-Hindu-mythology fun. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, even as I cursed the Radha-Krishna love story as evidence that women throughout history have welcomed back men who have "obviously been with other women" and are able to live happily ever after. Not setting a very high standard, are we?
Fortunately, I was able to put my bitterness aside to partake in some Clarendon Grill fun. I'd only been there once before, but it seems like the place to be for good cover bands and cheap alcohol (and by cheap, I mean that I manage to never have to buy my own beer--thank you, men of Arlington). On Friday night, the band One Stop was playing--a group that I know by association, and thus ended up hanging out with about a dozen former high school classmates, all of whom are delightful individuals. I was carefully watched over by The Boy (the other half of a good friend whose blog remains shrouded in mystery), and managed to wake up the next morning sober but with a crick in my neck from the dancing. Clearly, I'm getting too old for these shenanigans--and can't wait to go again.
The rest of the weekend was a mix of family domesticity and carnal amusement. In a weird sort of twisted family unit, I found myself grocery shopping with Janie and Jess's boyfriend (Jess being struck down with some malady resembling the plague), and then going to the track to read a book with Janie, who--in between pretending to hit homeruns and round the softball bases--managed to cheer for all the runners as they rounded our corner of the track.
And to all my loyal and curious readers, I'll also share the fact that this weekend I had my first encounter with Mr. Friends with Benefits (well, our first encounter since the arrangement went into effect). I'll spare you the details (Happy Mother's Day, mom), but I spent today with a smile on my face.
Posted by madchen at 09:55 PM | Comments (1)November 07, 2005
One of the Family
It's hard to be entertaining while simultaneously coughing up one's left lung, so please bear with me, dear reader. It's been 4 days since my last blog entry, and I have thought "ooh, I should write about this" on numerous occasions; however, now that I'm sitting down at the computer I'm drawing a blank. So rather than try and make a coherent storyline, let me briefly sum up the weekend's activities:
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Apple Cider Butter
On Saturday, I met up with Ms. Wish To See for some apple cider butter making fun. We've previously explored the exciting world of jam, but this was an altogether different experience. First of all, let me just say that EVERYONE should have an apple peeler/corer thingamabob. Not only did it make the preparation of FORTY-EIGHT apples managable, but it was also delightfully remeniscient of a Spanish Inquisition torture device. Good times were had by all, and I came home with 8 jars of beautiful, delicious apple butter.
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NB Meets Family
On Sunday, NB came to lunch. It was quite successful, if I do say so myself. Despite Ms. NYC Rouge's offer of her famous Mexican Chocolate Cake recipe, in the end I went with a Moroccan theme. The group of eight dines on Spaghetti Squash with Morrocan Spices, Moroccan Vegetable Skewers, and Cinnamon Oranges. The best part was that it was vegan and everyone STILL liked it (although there were several--okay MANY--references to my last vegan disaster, Warm Artichoke and Chickpea Salad).
After lunch (in which Janie arranged for the guys to sit at one end of the table--the better to discuss hunting and killing bears, from what I overheard), NB and I went to The Chairs at the Roundhouse Theatre. Here's the summary:
French director Alain Timar restages his acclaimed production of Ionesco’s absurdist play, seen at the 2002 Avignon Festival. His fresh interpretation casts a pair of young actors as an elderly man and woman who organize a reception for a group of imaginary dignitaries. The chairs are assembled, but the guests are invisible! Don’t miss this exciting theatrical event, performed in English and re-imagined for an American audience.
And here are my comments:
- First, thumbs down to the Roundhouse Theatre, who recently changed their Young Adult policy. In years past, anyone under 30 got tickets for $10. Now it's anyone under 25, which means that instead of seeing a quirky, experimental play for $20, NB and I got to see a quirky, experimental play for $86. Grr.
- Second, NB and I were CLEARLY the only people under 60 in the audience, which was full. This was a little disconcerting, since the play had a few overt sexual references, but also meant that it's highly unlikely that changing the Young Adult policy has had a significant impact on their ticket revenue. Double grr.
- Third, the play itself was delightful. It was incredible high energy, making me want to see the traditional staging (in which the two actors are usually older). It was definitely absurd, but I was totally engaged throughout the whole thing. NB thought "it was fine", but I was much more enthusiastic. My favorite part was when the actors try to engage the audience. Everyone was uncertain whether or not to shout back (in a "hip hipn hooray" sort of way) and you could actually feel everyone shift in their seats, feeling sorry for the actors but also unwilling to be the only person to shout into a crowded theatre.
Afterwards, we came back to the house for a bit, and that's where my favorite exchange of the night happened:
(First let me set the stage. NB and I are sitting on the couch in the living room. My dad is in the next room, watching a football game. My mom is in the kitchen. I sidle up next to NB, who is clearly uncomfortable with any physical contact so close to my parents--who could walk in at any time. I put my hand on NB's knee--totally innocently.)
"So what do you want to do now?"
"I don't know. Are you hungry for dinner?"
"Not really. Wanna make out?"
"No. And stop touching me."
I have never seen a guy so uncomfortable. It was highly entertaining.
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Random Miscellany
Well, that's about it for my weekend. Sunday night, NB and I went grocery shopping to avert death-by-famine for my two cats. While at Giant, I was able to implement a new trick, one which I'm very excited about.
First, the backstory. When Ms. Wish To See and I lived together, we shared a Giant Food Card account. She had set it up so that the account was not attached to our phone number. All fine and good (and splendid for our privacy), but that meant that when we forgot our cards, we couldn't just type our phone numbers into the handy keypad to receive the discounts.
Well, it turns out that Ms. Wish To See has been very sneaky for a LONG time. For the past several years, she has been using Ms. NYC Rouge's MOM'S home phone number as the "I forgot my card" access code. She told me of this fact on Saturday during a apple-butter-making trip to the grocery store, and I decided to adopt it as my own.
So Natasha and Madchen can thank Ms. NYC Rouge's family for their supply of reasonably priced, sale-item cat food.
Posted by madchen at 01:58 PM | Comments (2)August 06, 2005
Enjoying the Moment
Even as every atom of my being screams "get your own place" I am trying to enjoy the simple pleasures of being home with my family.
Today, I was distracted from watching TV by Janie's shrieks of joy coming from the backyard. A squirtgun war was in full force, the sprinkler was gushing obscene amounts of water on the pavement, and the mosquitos were in full force.
I grabbed my camera and caught some of the moments on film (well, digital pixels) and even managed to tape some of it on my new video camera.
Some day, when I've exhausted 10 years of my life in blissful solitude, having eschewed the pleas of my lonely family, I will revisit that videotape and remember the simple joys of family life.
Until then, I'm going to lock myself in the guest room and plot ways to escape.
(Click on the picture to see all the photos from today's festivities.)
August 05, 2005
The Great Divorce
I love starting trends. A couple of days ago I used the website Find Your Spot to determine best cities for me to live in. After discovering that I belong in the Southwest along with the vast majority of non-Floridian retirees, I was eager for my friends and family to see where they should live.
There was also an added bonus. The issue of where my parents should move when my dad retires next year has been a subject that has haunted the entire family for years. My mom wants to live in San Diego, in a large house (to entertain her retired friends, ya know) while my dad wants to become a recluse in a small cabin in the Rocky Mountains (with not so much entertaining). The idea of coming up with a new location that would be mutually agreeable was too much to pass up. Enter FindYourSpot.com.
So as not to incur any bias into the survey results, I had both parents fill out the survey at the same time, on different computers.
How little did I know that, while Janie watched TV and I hovered nervously between the dueling computers, the end of my parents' marriage was upon us.
Well, perhaps I exaggerate, but it certainly does not inspire confidence to realize that of the 20 towns and cities selected for each of my parents, they only had ONE in common.
Guess they're moving to Phoenix, Arizona.
Posted by madchen at 08:54 PM | Comments (1)
