(A little history in the clothing: Dear Golden vintage.)
The other night I had a dream that I was buying alarm clock beeps. Apparently, in dreamland, the beeps are sold separately from the alarm clocks. As a tactile object, the beeps looked like a chain of small silver beads.
(One card, infinite ways to express yourself: The ___ Cards.)
You know how good things and bad things tend to come in threes? Same goes with strange things. Right as I'm about to get off the bus, I catch a really strong whiff of a smell I associate with junior high: Lip Smackers lip balm. You know, that sickeningly-sweet artificial smell. Then I look out the window and see a little girl laughing and pointing in my direction. Behind me, on the bus, another little kid starts hysterically laughing. The mother of the second kid asks him what's so funny, but he says, "Oh, I can't tell you... not now!" He then launches into a story about how his classmates kept trying to pull down the pants of another kid. And then, out of nowhere, a fire engine comes racing by the bus, sirens screaming. "Fire, fire, fire!" screams the kid on the bus.
Some days are just odder than others.
(Want. From Totokaelo.)
My boyfriend's brother & his wife recently vacationed in New Zealand, and brought back some of the best sweets I've ever had: Whittaker's Kiwi Fruit chocolate. Imagine creamy little blocks of chocolate infiltrated with tangy, dried kiwifruit. It's good, really good. I'm having a tough time not finishing off the whole nine ounces.
(Home goods from Lola. Wish I could visit.)
Overheard in the bathroom at dinner:
Girl: Moooom. Mooom! Mooom.
Girl: You sound like you have the same cold as me!
Mom: Oh, dear.
Girl: I think we got it from Jimmy.
Mom: You mean Jimmy from your class? What makes you think that?
Girl: Because he gives it to everyone.
Mom: I don't know. Can you hurry up? I'm done.
(Some of Jenna's Picks over at J. Crew. Come on, springtime!)
Today's the 6-year-7-month anniversary for the boyfriend & I. We use the monthly anniversaries as excuses to eat out guilt-free, and tonight's outing was Japanese tapas. Seems like I should have realized this earlier, but tapas, in general, are one of my favorite ways to dine.
Then we watched the original 1968 Planet of the Apes with superstar Charlton Heston. It's a good thing I already knew the twist ending, because I accidentally fell asleep during the last fifteen minutes. (Typical.)
I've been having dreams about Twitter. A bad sign, I know. In the most recent dream, I learned via tweets that a storm was about to pass through Seattle. That morning, in real life, I woke up to snow on the ground. I hadn't been following the weather reports. I had no idea there were snow predictions. Just a weird coincidence? I hope so.
(fashion illustrations from emmakisstina.)
Okay, a winner is clear. Despite the subpar graphics and cheesy "hip-hop" music, I like My Fitness Coach much more than Wii Fit. It's an honest-to-goodness workout, a now-I-must-shower workout. Although, yeah, it's a tad weird when the fitness coach yells out, "I love that!"
When I got home today, Rufus The Cat's container of treats was lying on the kitchen floor, lidless, and empty. I hope it was worth it, you fat cat.
Then the boyfriend & I indulged in our own feast north of the city. Getting a corner table + a pomegranate martini + hazelnut encrusted halibut = lovely evening. Afterward we drove to a waterside park and watched the stars. Orion was especially bright.
So, remember the other day when I mentioned that one of my stories was accepted for publication? Well, a couple of days afterward, another story of mine was accepted by a different online literary magazine. Seriously, good news immediately after good news starts to feel unreal. But it wasn't unreal, and that second story is now live in the newest issue of The Battered Suitcase. (The first story is expected to be published sometime later this month.)
Anyway. If you have a couple minutes, and happen to be interested, here's where you can read my story:
Also, for future reference, I've added a new link in the sidebar of this blog. It's over on the right, there, called "writing". Anything I end up publishing will be archived there.
And – this is important – thank you all for the wonderful, supportive things you've said throughout the months.
(Valentine sweetness from Essimar.)
Some random things about today:
At the post office, I saw a package addressed to Randy Riggs... who, so it seems, lives on Randy Street. How do ya like that? Here's the critical question: is this a private road that he named after himself? Did he choose his current location simply for the humor? Neither?
I finished reading Updike's Rabbit Redux. A few months ago, I hadn't read anything of his; now he's one of my favorite writers. (And, sadly, he died earlier this week.) Now I'm starting Kiss Me, Judas by Will Christopher Baer, a book my boyfriend's been insisting I read.
Tonight is being spent making pizza, watching movies, and cleaning. Hope yours is relaxing as well.
Since getting a Wii Fit for Christmas, I've actually been doing a pretty decent job with giving it regular use. It's mostly, I think, because the workouts distract me from the fact that I'm actually exercising. (And yes, it can be a heart-pounding workout, if you put enough effort into it.) It tricks me into thinking I'm doing ski jumps, hula hooping, jogging around a sunny island. There's also an element of unpredictability. Once, my trainer wasn't "available that day," so another trainer filled in. Unavailable? What, was she playing hooky in Mario Kart land? Did she somehow escape the confines of the Wii console? Little things like that keep it interesting.
(nice fabric from ink & spindle.)
Last night I spotted some guys in full-on Batman and Joker costumes. They weren't acting their parts, though – Batman was posing in front of the Space Needle, and the Joker was taking his photo. I was glad to see them finally getting along.
My neighbors stepped it up a notch.
I've known that there was a unit for rent in their building for a long time – one of those generic announcement boards stood out on the sidewalk, and I pass it every day walking to and from the bus stop. The building is nothing out of the ordinary, although it has big windows out front (great for viewing all the traffic, I guess) and I generally ignored it. But now it's impossible to ignore, because they've installed a six-foot wide, fire-engine red neon sign inside the living room that screams VACANCY. It literally sets the entire room aglow.
Remember that Seinfeld episode about the Chicken Roaster neon sign? It's exactly like that. Except, (sigh of relief), it's only visible from the street, not from our apartment.
The only thing better than this is if they swap it for a huge, green NO VACANCY neon sign as soon as someone moves in.
(Recent fashion love from The Sartorialist.)
Okay, folks. I have real, live, triumphant news today.
I'd just finished reading one of my writing books. I was pumped up to be productive tonight. I was determined not to let this sneaky, shiny internet distract me away like it always does.
Then the email appeared in my inbox. A quick glance told me it was in response to a short story I'd submitted to a lit journal. Another rejection, I figured. And it would have been my tenth rejection... except... it was a letter of acceptance. Acceptance! I almost can't believe it. I keep going back to double check the email.
Next month one of my short stories, "Olive Point," will be published in the online literary journal apt.
And now I must go write. And write and write.
(Quirky from The Curiosity Shoppe.)
Yesterday evening, Stefan nudged me awake from an accidental nap. "You're talking in your sleep," he said. Funny thing was that I was talking to him in my dream. Other funny thing was the cat was also talking in his sleep.
So, there's a short story that I've been trying to coax out of hiding. It's in there, somewhere, but it's always a tricky thing to get it out. Anyway, the gist of the plot is that one character gives a gift to another, but there's some resentment on the receiving end. The tentative title is "The Gift."
Anyway, today I was trying to build up the character in my mind. Give him a demeanor, a name. For no real reason, the name Shiloh popped into my head. Okay, I thought. That could work. It's not too common, and it has a nice ring to it.
Later in the day, I looked up its meaning. And, lo and behold, Shiloh means "his gift" in Hebrew. If that's not a sign that I picked the right name, I don't know what is.
This morning Rufus the cat came strolling into the kitchen wearing a photo matte. I don't even know how he got it on, but it was around his midsection, like a tutu. Unfazed, he strolled past me without a care in the world. So, whatddya think? Is he begging to have his photo taken and framed?
Some recently watched films:
1. A Night to Remember (1958). Worth watching if you're interested in the Titanic. No love story, no color, and no plot surprises, but lots of drama.
2. The Lookout (2007). Good performance from Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I enjoyed it, but probably wouldn't watch it a second time. Picture a damaged hero, greedy peers, a blind Jeff Daniels, and a little violence tossed in.
3. Vengeance is Mine (1979). I already want to give it a second viewing. The wonderful thing about Japanese cinema is that not everything is overt. Do check it out if you like the mood and pacing of Asian films – but avoid it if you can't handle stabbing scenes.
4. After Hours (1985). Really pleasantly surprised with this one. Directed by Scorsese and small roles given to Cheech + Chong. If you like Naked Lunch, you might enjoy this. It's kooky, funny, and dark.
(Mmm, already thinking about Valentine's day. Sweetness from Williams Sonoma.)
Last night I had a dream that my neighbor's cats were trespassing in my yard. But these weren't any ordinary cats – there were a dozen of them, black with splashes of white, and each five feet tall. Each was also associated with a dessert, as if the cherry-pie cat would sell me a cherry pie, the chocolate-cake cat would sell me a chocolate pie, and so on.
(BROOKLYNrehab at Etsy.)
Last night on television a guy proposed to his girlfriend while up in the Space Needle. It sounds romantic in theory, but there were several things that made it kind of embarrassing to watch. First, the newscaster said to the woman, "You're Danish, right?" to which she corrected him, "No, actually. I'm German." Then, dismissively, the newscaster said, "Oh. Well, close enough."
Next, the soon-to-be-engaged couple proceeded on to ceremonial plate-smashing. Both of them dropped a plate, but neither of the plates shattered. Awkwardly, they were handed a hammer to complete the job.
Kneeling, the guy whipped out the ring and rambled a bit about his love, then popped the question. She said yes, and immediately a mic was shoved into her face. "How do you feel?" the newscaster asked. "Nervous! Happy!" she reported. All the while, she was squatting down in this short black dress, trying not to flash the camera. Poor girl. I hope she was happier than her face showed.
Anyway. This morning I'm tidying up the apartment & baking pumpkin muffins. Hopes yours is off to a good start as well.
Hi! I'm Rachel, and these are bits of my days and things I like. I run the online shops Elephantine and Mignon, am a fiction writer, and live in Seattle with my husband and two cats. Read more about this blog...
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