i had the oddest dream this morning. getting to work had gotten sort of complicated, so frenchy and i were going to get a ride with bob. mind you, these are real people i know. but for some reason, it was taking place in my old neighborhood on the Cape, on the road i used to walk to catch the bus to school. and then PJ (also someone i really knew) had to get a ride with bob, too. and somewhere along the line, in the middle of a field, amidst all the people hoeing long, sunlit rows in the loam, bob announced that we were on our own, because PJ pissed him off, and he was giving [i forget who, but real people] a ride instead. no negotiating. and then frenchy and i were at the other end of the hill, trying to get across the street to catch a T bus (but this is still in my old neighborhood, so that was wrong), except for some reason i can't move my feet; it was as if my ankles were glued together. i'm crying and panicking, and frenchy comes back to drag me across the street when he sees that yelling at me won't do any good. i think there was more to it, but i woke up without having caught the bus.
and boy, did i not want to get up this morning. curled up under the covers, warm and sleepy, with my honey looking very snuggle-able... and then the alarm went off. repeatedly. i looked out the window, and watched it go from a light rain to a downpour to sleet in about two minutes. the old saw about 'if you don't like the weather, wait a minute, and it will change' proved itself true in spades this morning. gah. sometimes i hate New England. the fact that today was a holiday that my company refuses to honor and sweetie had the day off doesn't have anything to do with it. nope. not a bit. it's all the weather, people. yeah, right.
i slogged my way thru the ankle deep slush and nearly wiped out on the escalator in the T station, trying to step off the last step. the steps were wet enough that my back foot slid right out from under me. fortunately, i did land okay. but it just made me wish even harder that i was back under the covers. it's stopped doing much of anything outdoors now, but it's cold, and i'm not looking forward to the slide home. hopefully, it won't be as bad as dan's commute home a while ago. he stepped off the bus and landed ass first in a puddle. his version of the story this morning was too funny, as he limped away with a frozen ass.
so, Targè. oh, my. i've wanted to check one out for a while, as they have a line of makeup brushes by Sonia Kushalik (i think that's the right name) which have gotten really high marks from several places, LuLu Darling among them (the locals will recognize the name). and when i saw the circular in the Sunday paper, advertising a 25 pack of lightbulbs for $5, well, that sealed it. in case i haven't explained: i appear to be the only person in my building who understands the concept of lightbulbs. new ones light up. burnt out ones don't. light is good. it helps us find the lock on the door. it keeps us from tripping over the rug. light good. dark bad. so replace the flippin' burnt out bulbs, you twits!! three years. three years now, and as far as i can tell, i am the only person who ever replaces any of the hall or porch lights when they burn out. there are 5 people living upstairs. at least 5. the odds against them all being incapable of changing a light bulb are staggering. damn. wish i'd taken a bet on that one. i could have won enough money to hire my very own personal light bulb monkey slave. all of this made the light bulb pack seem like a Very Good Idea.
so off we went yesterday afternoon. we actually stood inside the door of the store and debated basket v. cart. i wanted a basket, because a cart just looked too piggy. and i would have filled it. but if i took a basket then overfilled it, he wasn't going to come back for a cart. i tried to get a cart, really i did... just couldn't do it. which, as it turns out, was all for the best. the first aisle we walk down, i'm enchanted by - get this - plastic mesh baskets of cleaning supplies. it's kind of a neat idea: all the laundry or housecleaning supplies you normally need in a neat little organizer basket. i didn't need it, but i wanted it, just because it was a nifty idea. what i did stock up on was makeup. while i'm not a girly girl (as proved spectacularly by a later incident...we'll get to that), i think that replacing your foundation and powder somewhat more often than once a decade is a good idea. seriously, i don't think i've gotten new foundation in at least 5 years. i figured since i only use it about twice a year, it would be fine, but that's just not sanitary. so - new foundation, powder, concealer, blush, eyeshadow, sponges and brushes. when i totted up the cost, i remembered why i don't do this more often.
i wasn't going to do anything with all the goodies, just restock the makeup bag. but then it donned on me that we were going out on a bona fide Date, so what the hey? i unpackaged it all, scattered it on the sink counter, and stood there feeling baffled. what was i supposed to do with all that crap? ::sigh:: got thru putting on the foundation and powder alright. then i broke out the lovely soft blusher brush. i had no concept. at all. swirled that brush around on the blusher, built up a good head of steam, so to speak, and took an assertive swipe across my cheek, just as honey came in to check on me. the fact that we both blurted out 'war paint' in some context at more or less the same time pretty well sums up how the first experiment worked. *g* (ChicaBeanie, stop laughing! right now!) only took a little more work to correct it all and look half way decent. one of these days, i'll figure out how to do this. one of these days... when i grow up.
i have got to stop drinking Coke at night. we got pizza Saturday night, and i washed it down with two cans of Coke, then proceeded to lie awake all night. i actually spent most of the night trying to construct a fiction story. i've got most of the minor scenes figured out, as well as some of the lines, but i can't quite figure out what the central problem is for the characters. it could go a couple of different ways, and the answer isn't making itself obvious to me. i've got a few weeks to work on it, tho. actually, six weeks, i think. hey, if i really get stuck, i'll just get caffeinated out of my head and lie awake all night again. 8)
y'know, i had a lovely day yesterday, but i'm still disappointed in Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. it was beautifully shot, and the fight sequences were balletic. but ... eh. i just couldn't get into any of the characters. i liked Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh's characters, but didn't get to see enough of them. the governor's daughter ran hot and cold and didn't really have a clear motivation. oh, fine - 'i want to be independent and live with my true love'. that's a reason to lie, scheme, steal, kill, live without honor, and diss your true love? don't think so. i can live with flawed characters; they are often the most interesting ones. she wasn't interesting. what i wish Lee has done with the film was focus more on the school on Wudon Mountain. the idea of the warrior philosopher is appealing, but lightly treated.spoiler - do not read further if you wish to see the film and be suprised
i was particularly disappointed with the final scene between Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh. it was the end of The Matrix again, but with the sad ending. i fully expected Mu Bai to come back to life after Shu Lien kissed him, just like Neo did. i guess what it came down to for me was that all the pyrotechnics in the world are sort of silly without some philosophy behind them. Lee had a wonderful cast, one more than capable of communicating the thoughts, especially in Chow Yun Fat. instead, it seemed like he frittered them away. it was wonderful to watch the scenery - gorgeous mountainscapes - and there were some emotionally resonant scenes. wish there had been more of those.