In which I bore you with my reading list.
I finished Ilium after returning from vacation; now I’m elbow deep in Olympos. These books are fantastically good readin’.
It’s sci-fi meets the classics meet a good story, with Zeus and robots and nanotech and LGM (little green men). It sounds impossible, but it works.
Makes me wish I hadn’t hocked my favorite translation of the Iliad in Albuquerque that one time.
——–
I think I want a new Pocket PC instead of an iPod nano for my b-day.
The geek in me is tempted to get a Sharp Zaurus simply because it runs a Linux shell, but the penny pincher in me thinks of all the software I’ve purchased over the years for WinCE and Pocket PC 2002, none of which would run on a Zaurus.
I think I’m interested in an iPaq RX3115. They run about $200-$250 on eBay and the reviews I glanced at were good. Plus it’s wireless, and runs Mobile 2003, and I liked my last iPaq.
My old Toshiba PPC is getting ready to retire. It still works, but due to button stickiness I’ve had to reprogram it to use non-sticky buttons for various functions, and it glitches out pretty frequently.
In which I’m a wee bit confused.
Yesterday I did boring domestic stuff. In the evening, I made dinner. Then I ate. Brett wasn’t home, so I went upstairs and got on the computer and spent nearly 45 minutes trying to pay for his contractor’s insurance online via a slow, buggy site.
When I went back downstairs, Brett had come home and eaten his dinner, and then he’d put away the leftovers and done the dishes. Both of the cast iron pans I’d used were clean and dry on top of the stove and everything.
He’s never done that before.
The man in my house looks like my husband, but he doesn’t act like my husband. He’s been helpful and thoughtful and sweet and cuddly since our Big Talk after our vacations. He’s gone shopping with me, taken me out on Saturday night, and kissed me every time he’s left or arrived.
Honestly, it’s kinda freakin’ me out.
In other news, I need a gig. I’m thinking of making one up. Anybody want to be in a band with me? I’m thinking of doing a one- or two-show revue this Winter. Just for somethin’ to do. Songs I like with players I like. Nothin’ too intense.
Of course I want an iPod nano because of the yummy form factor, but they’re only 4Gb (like my mini) so I probably won’t upgrade.
Which is good, considering that everybody says they’re too delicate to actually use.
I’ll wait for the next gen, when they’re 8Gb+ and the kinks have been worked out of the design. But OMG they’re adorable, aren’t they? And COLOR! THEY’RE COLOR!
I’m fond of this concept drawing. How cute is that “nano”?
In which my teeth are GORGEOUS.
In other news, I went to the dentist today. My teeth look fifteen years younger. My gums are rejoicing. It’s a fabulous thing.
Not so fabulous was when the hygienist used the Cavitron on my upper molars, and it sounded like some soprano-voiced creature was being vivisected at about two thousand decibels, inside my head.
“MY GOD THAT’S LOUD!” I said after I winced and made a face and she stopped. “It’s so loud it hurts! What a horrific sound!”
“Your teeth’s roots must go way into your sinuses,” she said.
Somehow, I doubt that comment was calculated to make me feel sexy.
In which I still love New York.
I still love Manhattan. I miss it. I watch TV shows and movies I wouldn’t normally watch because they’re filmed there. I buy magazines I wouldn’t normally buy because they’re based there. I think about Manhattan while I’m in the shower. It’s like the worst crush I’ve ever had.
My husband won’t let me move there. Something about thinking his wife should live in the same state he does. The insensitive bastard. Can’t he see I’m pining away?
——–
In which I’m rescued.
Last night, Brett actually wanted to do something. We went to town and spent a few hours at The Red Rock tavern (we call it the Dead Cock because it’s such a nasty bar). Ed was having a going away party and there was nothing else to do.
I had a blast talking with Hattie and Rachel. I had a few cocktails. Brett was drinking Red Bull & Jagermeister, of all things. (I had a sip of one and it tastes much better than it sounds, but still.)
Rachel & Hattie doing a boisterous “Ha-ha-haaah!” for me
Hattie eventually left, and Rachel and I moved to the dance floor.
You have to understand that my husband has never had a jealous moment since I met him. All the times I’ve needed rescuing from various drunken and over-friendly male humanoids, he’s done nothing. Once, years ago, when I asked him about it, he said, “Ah, I figure you can take care of yourself.”
Well, last night while Rachel and I were dancing, a couple of older Mexican dudes moved in on us and tried to dance with us. One of them was touching me. I gave Rachel the look, and she moved in and got the guy off me per the strictures of proper girls-in-a-bar-fending-off-unwanted-advances etiquette: we had it handled. Still, within less than two seconds Brett was suddenly there, and he was clearly smokin’ pissed off. He made a space around me in the middle of the very packed and very loud dance floor and yelled in my ear, “Let’s go before I get in a fight with this fucking guy.” I leaned over to Rachel and said, “Sorry, guess I’m leaving now. Bye,” and Brett immediately dragged me out of the bar.
He was so angry he was literally pale as we walked to his truck. I have never seen this kind of behaviour out of him in the seven years we’ve been together. I think that years ago this kind of jealous/protective posturing would have made feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but last night it just pissed me off because it was so out of left field. (And because I’m so tired of having him drag me home as soon as the music gets good enough to dance to.)
I asked him about it today, and he shrugged and said, “A man just shouldn’t put his hands on another man’s wife like that.” I told him that’s just how Latin dudes are and that the guy didn’t mean anything by it, and I teased him about all the other times he didn’t do shit for me. He said he didn’t really have a good reason for last night’s behavior, it just made him really fucking angry to see that guy touching me like that. (All he did was put his hands on my waist for second, and try to capture my hands to dance with me.)
“Could it have been from all the caffeine in all that Red Bull you were drinking?” I teased.
“Coulda been,” he admitted. “Because I doubt it was from the Jagermeister.”
In which I buy some clothes.
It’s 2:25 PM, and I’m sitting in front of the computer in my office. Brett’s asleep naked in the day bed.
“Wake up! Wake up!” I call. “Let’s go to Ottumwa and eat, and go to Target and buy me some clothes.”
Downtown Ottumwa, Iowa
He said, “Mm hmm,” and rolled over.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve already taken a nap today myself. But this is ridiculous. “Wake up!” I repeat.
“Mm-hmm,” he answers again. He’s still lying on his stomach, one pale leg sticking out from under the sheet. You would not believe the whiteness of his ankles, which never see the sun. Milk-white, fish-flesh pale. He’s such a redhead.
“GET UP!” I yell.
He rolls over again. “Time is it?” he asks.
“It’s two-thirty.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, apparently pleased with the amount of nothing he’s accomplished so far today.
Then he sits up, groggy and unfocused. “Did you shower?” he asks. I nod. “Do I get that opportunity?”
“I think so, if you go now. No lines, no waiting, if you hurry!”
He’s threatening to buy me an iPod nano for my birthday, which I want because it’s cute as fuck but don’t really need because it’s got no more storage space than the 4Gb mini I already have. I also want a cheap acoustic guitar because all I have is a fat-necked classical that I never play. Either way, I’m buying some cheap Target boho clothes because all my clothes suck.
In which I freak out.
I will turn 37 next Thursday. I think I’m having a mid-life crisis.
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4 random books from my Library!
