NYC Day 3, Saturday October 10

This was, at least theoretically, a day where we all got to sleep in, because we had no firm plans for the morning.  Mom and I, of course, were both awake by 7, and I'm afraid I may have growled at the desk clerk when he told me the coffee shop didn't open until 8.  Nevertheless, I managed to use the time to shower and get dressed so I could get my caffeine.

After Friday's free coffee and pastry for breakfast, Bookworm pointed out that she needed some actual protein in the morning, so she found an "unpretentious diner" for us on a street behind the hotel.  Mom is never ready to eat until mid-morning, so Bookworm, Anabel and I walked over to the diner.  Anabel's fresh-squeezed orange juice was so good that Bookworm and I wound up ordering a glass, and I had an omelet with terrible tomatoes, yummy basil and really really good mozzarella.

After breakfast, the four of us rode the subway up to Museum Mile.  We stopped first at the Neue Galerie, where I had wanted to go to see the portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer (The Woman in Gold) and the multi-media exhibit on Weimar Berlin.  Unfortunately, it was 10:25 when we got there, and the museum didn't open until 11:00.  My lovely family would have been willing to stand in line with me, but it was chilly enough to be good walking weather and too chilly to stand still for 35 minutes.  Clearly, I'll just have to go back. :-)

The four of us walked over to the Guggenheim, where we took the elevator to the top floor and then walked down.  I was not that impressed with the Burri or Salcedo exhibits, but really enjoyed the Kandinsky.  The last made me think "This is exactly the type of 'degenerate art' Hitler wanted to eradicate."  I admit that I am not educated in art at all, so all of my reactions are emotional rather than reasoned.

We finished at the Guggenheim around 11:30, and then started walking around by Central Park.  The street vendors were out in force, and Bookworm and I both bought prints from one artist.  I loved the gates to the children's garden!

Anabel headed off to meet her nephew for lunch, and I took a cab to my lunch date.  I arrived early, and was having a cigarette outside when I looked at the license plate of the car parked at the curb.  Not only was it an Ohio plate, the plate-holder was from a car-dealer in Elyria, the place where both of my parents grew up!  I had a mad desire to leave a note saying, "Hi stranger!  EHS Class of '58, Woo-Hoo!" but refrained.

I met my Goodreads friend Jonathan at the bar of Cafe Luxembourg, and had to laugh at the thought that just like in a WWII spy movie, he could recognize me because I was carrying a copy of his book.  I really need to get my head out of WWII (and the American Civil War for that matter) and onto some other subjects!  At any rate, Jonathan did sign his book for me, and we had a lovely lunch full of conversation and opinionating and fun.  It might have gone on longer if the bus boy hadn't knocked over a glass of red wine at the table next to us!  I have to admit that I totally forgot that my camera was in my purse and so I didn't get a picture of the two of us.

I took a taxi back to the hotel and rested for a bit before Mom came in and told me it was time to get dressed for the evening.  We had dinner at Sardi's like good tourists, people-watched a bit in Times Square, and then went to the Eugene O'Neill Theatre for Book of Mormon.  Looking around, I thought that it reminded me of the Akron Civic Theatre and wondered if it also started life as a movie theater.  It hadn't, but since the Civic was built four years later, it makes sense that the latter would have been modeled after fancy theaters of the time.

The four of us had a lot of fun with the fact that Anabel's wine came in a sippy cup, and then we settled down to watch the play.

I'm not a theater critic, so I probably won't do it justice, but Book of Mormon is blasphemous, true, shocking, sweet and hilarious all at the same time.  Go see it if you can.

Miscellany

I've posted so many entries to Bubbles & Baubles that it feels weird to start this one without a disclaimer at the top!  It was a good week at work.  I met a couple of nice women from my city who were serving as jurors on an ugly case, my boss came to talk to me about some suggestions I'd made to our notices, citations and call day (and she left with my good pen!) and I didn't even think about killing or maiming anyone. :-)

I did think some nasty thoughts about someone else who works in the courthouse.  I don't know who she is, but she drives a black Cherokee with some distinctive window art.  A couple of weeks ago she pulled that "zoom up the far right line at top speed and then jump into the far left lane just before you need to turn" move.  Okay, I really, really dislike that move, but I didn't want her to die in a car fire until I got caught in a lane I didn't realize was closed ahead and she wouldn't let me in the other lane.  Selfish cow.  DIACF.

Next week is going to be a really good week for books--a new Cherie Priest book (squee!), a new Seanan McGuire book (squee!) and a new Terry Pratchett book (squee!) which is sadly the last Discworld novel ever (sniffle) will all be mine by the end of the week.

This morning was interesting--I had to go to the grocery store and get frozen food, then come home and stuff it in the freezer so I could go work out.  I put my bathing suit on under a dress and shopped and unloaded successfully and did the unthinkable in terms of the Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I forgot my towel.

Now, if you've been to Casa de Jammies, you know that the Natatorium is only about 2 miles from my house, but when I got there and realized I'd forgotten my towel, I didn't go back for it.  The reason was in part because I didn't want to waste gas, but also in part because we had a storm forecast, and I didn't want to miss my window before it started and the pool got closed because of lightning.  It turns out I didn't need to worry about that, but I worked out anyway and then drip-dried in the car on the way home.

We hates the quad stretcheses, Precious, yes we do.  Nassssty, nasssty horrid little stretcheses.

Yesterday, one of the local radio stations played a live version of Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" complete with horrible feedback squeal, and this morning, the album version was the last song I heard played as I finished my workout.  So here's a little Stevie & co. so you can share my earworm:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_aYibUx1B8

Mouse's last day

When I got home from work Tuesday night and Mouse didn't greet me at the door, I knew something was wrong.  When I went into the living room and found him wedged in a corner and stuck in a pile of poop, I knew it was time.  I helped him up and outside, did a quick cleanup and went to let him back in, only to discover he'd fallen again because his back legs wouldn't support him.  I got him in, but he didn't want to settle on his bed, so I checked it and discovered it was soaked with urine.  That was when I called the vet and scheduled the appointment.

I spent as much time as I could with him that evening, petting him, talking to him, scritching behind his marvelous, soft ears.  Little Miss Piggie Pie demanded her share of the attention, of course, but I managed to send her off with a toy.  I sang his song to him, and fed him treats, and tried my best to let him know that I loved him.

Wednesday morning I got up, helped Mouse outside, gave him his pain pill and settled him back on a clean bed.  Then I called off work, and the two co-workers with whom I spoke were very sweet and sympathetic.  I did some work for Mom I'd brought home, and eventually it was time to get dressed and go to the vet.  I discovered that Mouse had once more lost control, and frankly, given what all is in my trash can right now, I'm glad it's freezing here.

The vet had squeezed us in after a surgery, since they were closing early, so Mouse and I waiting in the surgery prep room while the doctor finished up surgery on a Goldendoodle.  The vet tech I spoke with claims that Goldendoodles get stupidity from Goldens and bad hair from Poodles.  Mouse wanted to leave, and it broke my heart to see him trying to walk out and knowing that he wasn't leaving ever again.  I petted him and cuddled him and told him how very much he'd meant to me, and finally it was time.

Dr. Mark came in, and I helped the vet tech get Mouse to lie down, and then I petted his head and crooned silly things to him and stayed with him until he was gone.  Then I took off his collar, said my goodbyes to the hospital staff, came home and cuddled Little Miss.

Mouse was with me such a short time, but he was so sweet and silly that I couldn't help but love him.  I'm glad I got him his own set of bowls so he didn't have to eat from hand-me-downs, I'm glad I got to see him bounce like a low-rider, I'm glad he got one last snow and one last visit from Mallie, and despite the sadness I'm feeling, I'm glad he could come to live with me.

The name on his records is Amos, and sometimes I called him Mouse, or Amouse, or Amoos,e or Mr. Mouse, or Mr. Moose, but I always used his "real name" when I sang to him.  It's probably blasphemous, but I don't care--just replace one word in the following song with my dog's name, and you'll know what I sang:

A Little Fall of Rain

I've always loved that song and I've almost always loved the sound of rain falling.

Very early Sunday morning, there was a brief shower over Casa de Jammies. I'm not usually the type of person who can wake up and be awake--I need my coffee and some time. However, when I hear what sounds like a dog piddling in my bedroom at three-thirty, I tend to be awake very quickly. Once my adrenaline rush had worn off, it was nice to hear a soft shower through my open bedroom windows. It would have been nicer had I not had to get up at 6:40 for work.

This morning, at 4:54, I heard the same sound, but quickly realized it wasn't raining--Little Miss was piddling on my bed. I jumped up just as she finished, whisked off all the bedding and threw it downstairs, then put her outside for a bit while I started laundry and the coffee. I tried twice between waking up and leaving for the day to get a urine sample from her, but no luck.

This afternoon, I came home, took Little Miss out again and still couldn't get a sample, so I loaded her into the car and headed for the vet's office. I got there early enough for one of the techs to come outside and follow us around to see if we could get a sample that way, but again, no dice. We gave up after ten minutes and headed inside, where the tech showed us to the dog room. Thirty seconds after walking into the room, Little Miss shivered, peed all over the floor and pressed up against me. The tech ran for a pipette, laughed that apparently all we needed to do was scare the pee out of my dog, took the sample to be tested and cleaned up the floor. I chatted with the receptionists as I waited, then Dr. B came in.

We joked a bit as he and the tech hoisted Little Miss to the table, as he had the tech take the dog's back end. He checked her gums and her heartbeat while telling me that she did have a UTI. However, although he found a lot of bacteria in her urine, he did not find a lot of red blood cells, so I caught it early. I gave him credit for teaching me what to look for, and thanked him for fitting my sick pupster into his schedule. He gave her ten days' worth of antibiotics, which means ten days of cream cheese, which will make for a happy puppy, and with any luck, any rain I hear tonight will be more Norah Jones than nightmare.

"Waiting on the World to Change"

Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
there's no way we ever could
Now we see everything that's going wrong
with the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don't have the means
to rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting
waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
waiting on the world to change

These lyrics to the song by John Mayer make me very sad. The song itself is quite catchy--I find myself humming or singing it throughout the day. The lyrics, though, sound defeatist and apathetic. I can't help contrasting them with the lyrics to Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On?"

CHORUS #1:
Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh what's going on, what's going on
Yeah, what's going on, ah, what's going on
Ahhh....

Mother, mother, everybody thinks we're wrong
Ah but who are they to judge us
Simply 'cos our hair is long
Ah you know we'ver got to find a way
To bring some understanding here today

I just keep thinking that you can't wait for the world to change, you need to change it yourself, and sending out a message that it's okay just to wait is doing the world a disservice.

*sigh*

Real Girl Power

In the last six months, I've heard a lot of debate about whether the PussyCat Dolls and the Suicide Girls are empowering, and I still haven't made up my mind. I do know that Saving Jane has some of the best lyrics out there, along with some damn fine music.

My idea of real "Girl Power" :

"One Girl Revolution"

Raise your hand if you don’t care
What those platinum girls wear
Raise your hand if you’re just here
To have a good time

Raise your hand if your lipstick
Doesn’t make you a dumb chick
Raise your hand if the shape of your hips don’t compare
To the shape of your mind

You don’t even stand a chance
I’m not taking off my pants

I’m here to start a one girl revolution
I’m not a barbie doll, shopping mall, silicone substitution
I thought I told ya, I’m a soldier
And I ain’t leavin’ til the battle’s over
One girl revolution.

Raise your hand if you’re smart, girls
More than pushups and pearls
Let em stare at our pictures, baby
While we take over the world

Raise your hand if you’re not another carbon copy
Wannabe like everybody else
Raise up your hand if you got something more to say

I’m here to start a one girl revolution
I’m not a perfect ten, paper thin, Hollywood illusion
I thought I told ya, I’m a soldier
And I ain’t leavin’ til the party’s over
One girl revolution.

What are we sellin?
Our brains or our belly buttons?
What are you buyin?
Don’t you know that they’re lying?
What are you cryin about, don’t just sit there and wait
While they’re selling us out!

You don’t even stand a chance
I’m not taking off my pants

I’m here to start a one girl revolution
I’m not the Girl Next Door anymore, baby I’m an institution
I thought I told ya, don’t wanna know ya
Pack your bags baby cause this army’s takin’ over
I’m here to start a one girl revolution

I’m the kinda chick that leaves you cryin’ for your mother
Keep on lookin if your lookin for a cookie cutter
I’m here to start a revolution

Spoken: No thanks, I can loosen up my own buttons.

©2007 Tosha Music

"Imperfection"

My hair's a wreck
Mascara runs
My feet get dirty and my skin burns in the sun

My lips, they bleed
But I still sing my songs
Takes me a minute to admit it when I'm wrong

Pretty is as pretty does, but pretty's not my thing...

This is what you get
This is who I am
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand
And if you're thinking about changing my direction...
Don't mess with Imperfection.

My back is weak
But my will is true
Got good intentions but I never follow through
I say too much
Don't know when to leave
In case you're looking that's my heart there on my sleeve

Ego trips and stupid slipups, I'm a mess but..

Chorus

Scratched and bruised, a little used,
But baby, I work fine.
You might call me damaged goods,
But I'm one of a kind.

My hair's a wreck
Mascara runs
No, I'm not perfect, but I'm not the only one...

Chorus

My new theme song

"Imperfection" by Saving Jane

You can listen to the song here (Just click on the link for "Imperfection").

My hair's a wreck
Mascara runs
My feet get dirty and my skin burns in the sun

My lips, they bleed
But I still sing my songs
Takes me a minute to admit it when I'm wrong

Pretty is as pretty does, but pretty's not my thing...

This is what you get
This is who I am
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand
And if you're thinking about changing my direction...
Don't mess with Imperfection.

My back is weak
But my will is true
Got good intentions but I never follow through
I say too much
Don't know when to leave
In case you're looking that's my heart there on my sleeve

Ego trips and stupid slipups, I'm a mess but..

This is what you get
This is who I am
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand
And if you're thinking about changing my direction...
Don't mess with Imperfection.

Scratched and bruised, a little used,
But baby, I work fine.
You might call me damaged goods,
But I'm one of a kind.

My hair's a wreck
Mascara runs
No, I'm not perfect, but I'm not the only one...

This is what you get
This is who I am
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand
And if you're thinking about changing my direction...
Don't mess with Imperfection.

I love the music for this song, and the lyrics are me, completely. Unfortunately, it's not on Saving Jane's only album. However, they're from Columbus and my brother might know someone who knows someone who might know someone in the band so he can find out if this is for an upcoming album and let me know when it will be released. I will definitely be buying it.

Nothin' to Say

Chris Isaak: Nothin' to Say

Days can be lonely
Night lets you down
Wonder and wander
There's no one around
Nothing to say now, nothing to do
I can feel my heart breaking
And it's all 'cause of you

Granted, the last two lines don't apply, because I haven't gone and gotten my heart broken recently. Still, I am mega-unamused by this interwebinet thingie right now. The AH is a yawn, nobody I am dying to chat with is on YIM or MSN, the 'paca only said hi and bye, and I'm boredish, so I'm blue.

Perhaps I shall, odd concept, go read something in print. Mom gave me about a year's worth of Vanity Fair, most of them so thick they make my wrist hurt after the first half hour of holding them. Hmmm. That does sound like a reasonable thing to do.

Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On

Or at least the chorus of same:

girl put your records on
tell me your favourite song
you go ahead let your hair down
sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
just go ahead let your hair down
you're gonna find yourself somewhere..somehow

This song is just so much fun to listen to, to sing along with, to think about. It's a cheery little number that makes me think of stacks of 45s on a turntable, and sleepovers and makeovers and giggles. I'm not going to romanticize junior high--there was as much hell there for me as there was fun, but I'm not going to wallow in the pain, either. I'll just say that most of the best times were caught up with silly fun music, and be glad that every now and then a song pops up that helps me remember that.

I'd love to host a musical sleepover for a lot of my friends, just without the sleeping on the floor part (age does make that more difficult!). In fact, I'm working on getting people from my favorite message board to visit me. I'm a pretty good hostess, even if I do say it as shouldn't. *blush* I can't think of anything more fun than late nights just talking and listening to music. I think I'll go put some fun music on...