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Update for Tuesday, September 13.
My mother dropped by in the afternoon, and we worked on her website stuff for a bit before heading out for dinner and the mall. I had a tasty salad sampler and quiche at Marie Calendar's, which is really the only kind of place you can get away with that. My mother spent a goodly portion of the meal laughing at me as I regaled her with my Prairie Home Companion exploits. It turns out, she'd heard of the show too, had even listened to it. Because...
My father actually likes it.
Now, I'm sure he likes it in a strictly tongue-in-cheek, laugh-at-the-yokels kind of way. But I still found the revelation to be horrifying, and it did prompt me into wondering aloud if I had been switched at birth. But despite this traumatic revelation, it was nice to be out alone with my mother, which happens all too rarely now. And as she told me, she felt like an escaped prison convict, between all the demands my grandmother and father are making on her at the house. We didn't even shop as long as we wanted to because my father needed their car again. I can tell it's stressing out my mother. She's a bit of a loner and needs that time.
We headed to the mall and I made use of some coupons to buy another two pairs of jeans (I was pretty much in dire need), a purple long-sleeved t-shirt, and a random tank top that was needed to get me over $100 so I could get my $50-off discount. One of the double-edged swords of this job is that, while I don't have to dress for it, I also don't have to dress for it - which means I have no reason to have cute clothes, and they're a luxury I can't really afford.
Alex the Roommate was collecting clothes for some Hurricane Katrina victims that are staying with a friend of hers, and I almost donated one of my new pairs of jeans, along with the other clothes I'd culled out of my wardrobe. But I have to say my selfish side rose up, pointing out that I had precious few pairs of pants as it was (I only buy a new pair when I toss an old one out), and it was unlikely that mine were going to be useful, anyway.
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ladyfalcon also called me to bemoan that I was not online to discuss House. I got home, and watched it, and it was very, very good. Of course. My favorite line was House's Scooby-Do reaction to Cutty's rebuke: "Wrrow-wooh!" I am totally going to steal that for the future.
Also, while I recognize that House is a fictional character whose writers slave day and night to provide him with clever, "spontaneous" lines, the more I see him the more I wish he was actually real so I could have a conversation with him. As I later toldbongirl5 when we were talking about the show, House is probably very manageable for a fellow Objectivist. A few snippy lines back, a demonstration of extreme competence and/or intelligence, and I'm sure you'd get his respect and cooperation. I haven't seen every episode, but it seems to me that one of House's chief problems is that he doesn't have anybody like him to talk to. Sela Ward's character is no Dagney Taggart, in other words. I'm hoping it eventually comes down to that, even if it's a brief exchange with some patient who is eerily House-like.
And damn it, when is my House dream coming back?
My mother dropped by in the afternoon, and we worked on her website stuff for a bit before heading out for dinner and the mall. I had a tasty salad sampler and quiche at Marie Calendar's, which is really the only kind of place you can get away with that. My mother spent a goodly portion of the meal laughing at me as I regaled her with my Prairie Home Companion exploits. It turns out, she'd heard of the show too, had even listened to it. Because...
My father actually likes it.
Now, I'm sure he likes it in a strictly tongue-in-cheek, laugh-at-the-yokels kind of way. But I still found the revelation to be horrifying, and it did prompt me into wondering aloud if I had been switched at birth. But despite this traumatic revelation, it was nice to be out alone with my mother, which happens all too rarely now. And as she told me, she felt like an escaped prison convict, between all the demands my grandmother and father are making on her at the house. We didn't even shop as long as we wanted to because my father needed their car again. I can tell it's stressing out my mother. She's a bit of a loner and needs that time.
We headed to the mall and I made use of some coupons to buy another two pairs of jeans (I was pretty much in dire need), a purple long-sleeved t-shirt, and a random tank top that was needed to get me over $100 so I could get my $50-off discount. One of the double-edged swords of this job is that, while I don't have to dress for it, I also don't have to dress for it - which means I have no reason to have cute clothes, and they're a luxury I can't really afford.
Alex the Roommate was collecting clothes for some Hurricane Katrina victims that are staying with a friend of hers, and I almost donated one of my new pairs of jeans, along with the other clothes I'd culled out of my wardrobe. But I have to say my selfish side rose up, pointing out that I had precious few pairs of pants as it was (I only buy a new pair when I toss an old one out), and it was unlikely that mine were going to be useful, anyway.
ladyfalcon also called me to bemoan that I was not online to discuss House. I got home, and watched it, and it was very, very good. Of course. My favorite line was House's Scooby-Do reaction to Cutty's rebuke: "Wrrow-wooh!" I am totally going to steal that for the future.Also, while I recognize that House is a fictional character whose writers slave day and night to provide him with clever, "spontaneous" lines, the more I see him the more I wish he was actually real so I could have a conversation with him. As I later told
bongirl5 when we were talking about the show, House is probably very manageable for a fellow Objectivist. A few snippy lines back, a demonstration of extreme competence and/or intelligence, and I'm sure you'd get his respect and cooperation. I haven't seen every episode, but it seems to me that one of House's chief problems is that he doesn't have anybody like him to talk to. Sela Ward's character is no Dagney Taggart, in other words. I'm hoping it eventually comes down to that, even if it's a brief exchange with some patient who is eerily House-like. And damn it, when is my House dream coming back?
