When I'm working at my desk Haley likes to sit in the purple basket of the desk behind me, leaving the bed to Minion. I don't always hear Minion's attacks on Haley cause I have my headphones on, so I turned around just now to see/hear Haley growling out of the room, and Minion sitting in the box with a saucy look on her face.
Me: "Did you just take that box?"
Minion: "Certainly looks like it."
But she does have a softer side. Earlier today I was telling Minion about Egypt--cats care A LOT about Egypt, of course--and how we'd better say a little prayer that things don't turn violent, and I looked down and she was right on her prayer mat.
Living with cats is like living in a library. If you make a sudden noise everyone stops what they're doing and STARES pointedly at you. You apologize in a hushed voice and hunch your shoulders and continue your work as quietly as possible.
On thing I like about cats is that when you talk to them they usually twitch their tails in response. If there's a cat stretched out nearby, I say: "Who's a pretty girl?" And she will give a little tail thump that says: "Well obviously: Moi."
MEOWEE EAST: Now below is a little scene called Minion Wakes Up and Espies Her Best Friend...
Look at the way she's stretched out on her back, belly totally exposed.
You wouldn't think this was the dominant cat.
She's not attacking Haley, just stretching out towards her, and Haley is hitting her. "Don't touch me on my side of the bed!"
And Haley moves away. I suspect it was a jackass move. Something your brother does that's calculated to drive you nuts, but not bad enough that you can get him in trouble for it. Well look at her. She does look obnoxious.
That's how things are in this Meowee East. If it'd modeled on the Middle East then Fernando and I are in trouble. Nibblet riots! "More Snappy Toms! More chin scratches! More Snappy Toms! More chin scratches!"
So apparently the murder-ing guy already has a criminal record. And possibly the guy living in my building took him in, cause he didn't have a place to live at the moment, or something like that. So say certain papers.
I finished A Tale of Two Cities today. I'm not reading a lot right now, so it's all slow going.
No one cares about spoilering classic books, it seems. Fernando says there's a statute of limitations on spoilering. Like... once a movie's been out so many years, you can't expect everyone to hold its secrets. He says I expect too much of the populace.
If you intend to read this book one day, I am giving you fair warning that there are SPOILERS ahead. Because I am an honest and kind reader!!
If you want to go around sharing the Famous Opening Lines of books, fine. But Famous Last Lines? Come on!
So going in I already knew the last line: "It is a far far better thing I do, than anything I have done" or something like that. Meaning: The character is doing something self-sacrificing. Spoiler.
But then on TV they always show the movie clip! So I know the guy is dying at the guillotine.
Then, a couple scenes into the book, I find out there are two men who look very very similar to each other. One is a wastrel, the other is a good man. Well obviously the wastrel is one day going to sacrifice his life for the good man. And since, in this same scene, it's clear they're both in love with the same woman, I know WHY he's going to do it too.
And that was it. A few pages into the book and I knew where it was all headed. Or beheaded. The fact that they look identical, that the trial in which it's proven never comes up again, and that they love the same woman probably would have tipped me off to an ending somewhat like this anyway. But still. I wouldn't have known for sure.
The Characters
My Dr Mannette played by Sutherland
I didn't care for its length. As much as I hate to say it, Dickens should have written a longer book. For heaven's sake, what happened to Doctor Manette?? Am I supposed to believe that once he sees Charles is alive he'll pop back out of his Shoe Mannia and return to normalcy forever? He failed! He worked hard for a whole year to get Charles out of prison, for the first time in decades he felt useful and powerful and strong, he performed this great feat at freeing his son-in-law, and a day later it was all for nothing. Do you think seeing Charles alive would be enough to rouse his from his catatonic state? I'm not so sure. I'm still worried about him.
As for Lucie and Charlies, I don't care what happens to them. They were as underdone as Scrooge's bit of potato. Which is annoying because one knows what Dickens is capable of. Whatever his faults as a writer, I always enjoy his reams and reams of great characters. But Lucie and Charles were poopy, Sidney's the great romantic hero, but I never got to know him. He was a drunk lawyer, he fell in love. That's all I learned about him. His sort of friend was funny, but not around much and didn't serve the plot except to show that Sidney had silly friends?
Penelope Wilton played Pross... in my mind.
Miss Pross and Mr Lorry were wonderful, though. Touching, funny, and plot-important. And I cared about Dr Manette. Poor Dr Manette.
The French
My other problem with the book was Dickens' description of the French Revolution. I didn't get the chance to care about the French people. There was Lucie and Charles and Manette, but they could have been any nationality. The characters he drew in most detail were all baddies. There were people you pitied, but they were sort of backdrops of piteousness. Not real people. You weren't given a couple Nice Poor People, Sans Murderous Intent to care about.
Dickens portrays the French as sort of Gremlins. When being downtrodden by the Nobility, they're cute and pitiful. Once they get their chance at revenge, they're pure evil. A moment later they go back to feeding their young, and being normal nice people, and then again they're rampaging about murdering. I guess Dickens was saying something about the breaking down of all order in society, and mob rule, and such. I think that's what my father took away from the book, and other people have as well.
But I want to understand how I too could end up like them. (I am part French, after all. Who knows what murders my ancestors committed?) I want to read a book like that and think, Well this is awful, but what other choice did they see they had? Or what about the Lando Calrisseans of the French Revolution, who did bad things because they felt their hands were tied? And between the aristocrats and the poor people, where were the intellectuals who were responsible for this mess? They're nowhere in this book.
I still enjoyed the book, though. As I said, for the characters I did love. And Madame Defarge is a very good bad guy. And the second half is excitin', once Charles the idiot takes himself off to France.
There were also these little beautiful moments, such as the beginning when Mr Lorry is going to get Dr Manette, and keeps replaying in his mind the idea that Manette has been buried alive for a couple decades and he's being "recalled to life." It's a really haunting passage. And as this Dickens site points out, resurrection is a theme throughout the book. Apparently he almost called the book Recalled to Life, and I wish he had, because it would have lent it some thematic sense of wholeness.
____
My Mr Lorry, played by Caine
Here is the passage. Mr Lorry, a very proper Man of Business is on his way to pick up Lucie Manette, and then take her to find the father she's never seen because he was shut up in the Bastille 18 years ago.
But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach (in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was always with him, there was another current of impression that never ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one out of a grave.
Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before him was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed, and in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt, defiance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another; so did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands and figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was prematurely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this spectre:
"Buried how long?"
The answer was always the same: "Almost eighteen years."
"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
"Long ago."
"You know that you are recalled to life?"
"They tell me so."
"I hope you care to live?"
"I can't say."
"Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?"
The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes the broken reply was, "Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon." Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was, "Take me to her." Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it was, "I don't know her. I don't understand."
After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig, and dig, dig- now with a spade, now with a great key, now with his hands- to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fall away to dust. The passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get the reality of mist and rain on his cheek.
Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the moving patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge at the roadside retreating by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the train of the night shadows within. The real Banking-house by Temple Bar, the real business of the past day, the real strong rooms, the real express sent after him, and the real message returned, would all be there. Out of the midst of them, the ghostly face would rise, and he would accost it again.
"Buried how long?"
"Almost eighteen years."
"I hope you care to live?"
"I can't say."
Dig- dig- dig- until an impatient movement from one of the two passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw his arm securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon the two slumbering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again slid away into the bank and the grave.
"Buried how long?"
"Almost eighteen years."
"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
"Long ago."
The words were still in his hearing as just spoken- distinctly in his hearing as ever spoken words had been in his life- when the weary passenger started to the consciousness of daylight, and found that the shadows of the night were gone.
He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left last night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood, in which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear, and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful.
"Eighteen years!" said the passenger, looking at the sun. "Gracious Creator of day! To be buried alive for eighteen years!"
I just heard on the radio that someone was murdered in my apartment building last night! They didn't give our address, but it was us! I was even awake at the time, but didn't hear a thing--must have been the other side of the building. I think it happened after a fight or something.
Lil Wayne opens up for the first time about his time in prison. (See video from his cover shoot below.) During his eight month stint in Building C-76, cell 23 at Rikers Island, Weezy worked as an SPA (suicide prevention aide), listened to a lot of music on the radio (oldies and Hot 97) and played countless games of Uno with his cellmates in the Protective Custody division.
"I'd bust a nigga's ass at Uno," he told writer Josh Eells. "We gamble for phone time. I'd take nigga's commissary: Lemme get them cookies, lemme get them chips, get that soup."
Eventually his cellmates stopped inviting him to games. "They'd be like, 'Oh, we thought you were asleep,'" Wayne says. "Like you can't look inside my cell and see that I'm right there! We ain't got no doors!" [Rolling Stone]
One possible side effect of Topamax is that soft drinks taste off. So yesterday I bought a small Coke cause I was curious. It tasted a bit less cola-ee, but I don't drink Coke very often. So. What do I know?
Yesterday was a weird headache day.
No headache.
Small headache.
1 Zomig.
Got worse.
Went to bed at 3:30 AM, sleeping on side of headache, reading Charles Dickens. Usually that works.
Got worse.
4:30 turn off light.
Owwwwwwweeeeeee.
2nd Zomig.
Head huuuuurtiiiiiiiing.
5:30 AM
Can't wear eyemask cause too painful, but ok because not light out yet.
Ow. Ow. Ow.
Trying to not take Tylenol-Codeine cause Doctor doesn't like that.
6:30 AM
Pain pain pain pain.
Can't roll over because pain worse if I lay on non-headache side.
Why why is someone beating up a quadrant of my skull?
#*#&$ my doctor.
7:30 AM
Take Tylenol-Codeine.
Now I can't sleep because it's light out.
Put pillow over head.
Boiling hot.
Drift off into weird dream about kids drawing in chalk on busy street.
8:30 AM
Pain gone. Put on eyemask and go to sleeps.
Ahhhh.
If the Topamax doesn't get rid of the need to take so much meds, I'll need to address this Tylenol thing with my doctor. Because it gets rid of certain types of headaches that Zomig doesn't. I don't know how to describe it to her, but I can tell the difference.
I was also BOILING HOT. I put on my usual space heater and blankies, but ten minutes later I felt like I was in the seventh circle of hell. I remembered that one possible side effect of my new drug is decreased sweating. It's only dangerous with children--they can overheat while playing--but what about adults overheating while sleeping? I never noticed just how much sweating brings down temperature.
I was just gathering a comment from a CNN article about porn, for my comment-webs. (Figured an article about porn was bound to bring about a good comment.) But I also came across one of my favorite comment phenomenons, when people have those not-really-the-point replies, list the two posters talking about Mamma Mia: (I couldn't make it any wider, so just click on the picture to make it bigger.) (For the record, I'm married to someone who saw Mamma Mia without me.)
The CRTC wants a second look into the recent decision to ban the unedited version of the Dire Straits song Money for Nothing from Canadian radio.
The Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission is urging the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council (CBSC) to review the decision made earlier this month by its Atlantic Regional Panel.
The panel deemed the Grammy-winning 1985 rock tune unfit for Canadian radio in its unedited version, after a listener of CHOZ-FM in St. John's complained about the use of the word "faggot" in the song's lyrics.
The broadcast regulator reported receiving more than 250 complaints from the public over the CBSC's decision.
The problem I had with this decision is that it was made by such a small body--just the Atlantic arm of the CBSC. I mean, you're setting a pretty big precedent. I feel like they should have had some public forums or something. Maybe not the way they usually make their decisions, but if you're going to add a new word to the Ban List (which is essentially what they were doing), it should be done carefully.
I don't even know what they ban now, because... and here's the catch... who still listens to radio?? I listen to the CBC while working in the kitchen.
In the context of this song, I could understand banning "faggot" for the same reason as swear words, so that kids don't hear it. BUT. Do children listen to classic rock radio? Does anyone under the age of 40 listen to classic rock radio? Does classic rock radio still exist? I guess in Atlantic Canada.
Who has time to worry about Tiger Mothers when you have Tiger Daughters?
Minion takes on her nemesis.
Minion continues to drive Haley nuts. The water bottle only semi works. It'll keep Minion off Haley for a couple hours, but only if I can squirt her really good.
Tonight I kept hearing SQWAK! -- the sound of Minion really jumping on Haley, getting her about the neck or something. So I got hold of Minion... which isn't easy, cause she runs and hides... which is part of the fun, I'm sure. (She's all "squeeeek!" when I catch her, but she's in SUCH a hyper mood, and tries to attach me too, I'm sure she's enjoying herself.) I took her to the tub, and turned the cold water tap on over her head.
I thought... this would be worse than the water bottle, right?
Uhhh weebly is driving me NUTS as a blogging tool. It's easy to use and fun for creating and maintaining a website like my londonmabel.com. So for my music blog I decided to use it, so I could have a blog about lyrics, but also lots of other pages about music I listen to and recommend, since I like writing about music so much. You can have other pages on blogger, but they're one-post pages. Like, and About page. Whereas on weebly every page can be a blog. Or I could have a page full of photos, another with RSS feeds, etc.
Meanwhile I was thinking of trying out Wordpress for the first time since 2007. When I first decided to blogging I did my usual thing... I created a blog on 4 or 5 sites, and decided which was the nicest and easiest to use. I remember finding Wordpress unintuitive or something. And I've noticed over the years that people with Wordpress tend to have unattractive blogs, unless they're professionals.
But in my recent blog research I keep finding that it's The Blog Program To Use, and I wondered why. Well I realized it's opensource. Ahhhhh, je comprends. That means what you can do with it is probably HUGE. Like run a forum maybe? That would also explain why I would hear about people running into Wordpress issues--cause I guess you're using bits and pieces from all different programmers.
So because of its versatility, I would consider moving my biggest blog, mabeltalk, over to Wordp. But I'd have to go build a ghost site first and see if I could make it LOOK nice. If not, forget it, I'm otherwise very happy with blogger, and they add new features all the time.
BUT. Now that weebly is ever-frustrating me, maybe I should consider migrating my music blog instead. We'll see. Gotta try the baby out first. See if, as a website tool, it's less annoying--or at least equal work--as weebly.
I used to not want to switch these things because it would change my address. But this is the only blog now that isn't a .com address. And I don't intend to change Trivial Buttonhole. When I'm writing casually I want no stress, and this is no stress! I loves you blogger, I really do.
So my new pill definitely makes me nauseous. Not a lot, and it starts about an hour or so after I take it, which is when I go to bed. So maybe if I take the pill later I'll be asleep when it starts. It's not really bad nausea, but a little bit harder to fall asleep.
I'm very nausea prone as it is. Another reason I'd hate to get pregnant--I'd be nauseous for nine months, for sure.
Don't know how soon this will stop, because in two weeks I up the dose, and in two weeks after that. Oh poo! But I didn't have a headache today, even though I'm due for my period. I still couldn't wear my glasses or over-the-head headphones, but it's something.
American Idol is on. I think I'm gonna give it a try this season, now that they've made some big changes. First, to having artists with actual talent on the judging panel, and a mix of genres. They're gonna coach the contestants more. They're gonna let them sing in their own genre. They've changed music directors which I hope means the music arrangements will be less cheezy.
The intro is verrrrry silly, though.
Anyway--it'll either be way worse or way better. The only thing left to hope is that they give them better original songs to sing at the end of it. They've also changed to Jimmy Iovine, so that might change the finished product.
Alright, all 4 blog posts done for tomorrow. Phew! I can go to bed at a decent time tonight! Now I just have to NOT take a nap before 3 AM... I already feel so tired. It might be my new med, but I think it's because I'm fighting off a headache, and I'm premenstrual--both things seem to wear out my body.
I was a bit nauseous last night, which might have been my new pill. We'll see tonigh
Ahh! I've got myself all turned around again. I keep napping from 8PM-11 or 9-midnight, so by the time I get working on my blogs it takes til 6 or 7 AM to finish them. Especially my politically correct series, which I can't just bash off. Ah! Ah! At least I was able to find some fun comments for my comment blog. Yesterday all I could find were angry stoopid people complaining about reverse discrimination.
Don't know if Minion would go for it, though. I've tried to get her to use one when I hold it for her--don't see that sewing one into a pillow or blanket would help. But you never know.
Well, it was coldy, but not so coldy that you can't take your hand out of your mitt for a minute to pull up your hood. And no wind.
I've been on Elavil for a couple years now--a daily drug to prevent my chronic tension headaches. They took my headaches down a significant degree--though I went up two slacks sizes in three months at the time. Doh! But worth it.) That didn't totally rid me of my headaches so my doctor added Ado-nadol, an ARB, but that did nothing. (They almost seemed worse, but surely that was my imagination?) This week I go off the Apo and start Topamax.
It doesn't have weight gain as a side effect, though weight loss can be. Plus pins and needles is the most common, along with soft drinks tasting weird. And difficulty concentrating, or with memory. It's all very exciting.
I hope it helps. I've had a headache all day today, and already took two painkillers (Zomigs) so I'm maxed out. >:-( It's because I'm getting my period this week--that's my worst worst headache week each month. Now that a specific stressor is out of my life (my last job) it's easier to see what my baseline headaches are.
I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, which means I have to leave the house! I've so enjoyed sitting out the winter in my living room, working on my blog empire (123).
Better check the weather...
WTF!!!!!!
:'-(
I'd better get some good headache meds out of this.
This is one of my all-time fave pics of my husband "Fernando" and our now-deceased cat Nombly.
A million years ago I was living with my roommate Delyriam, and she brought home this abandoned tabby from her work place. Not to keep, but just to foster for awhile, because he hated being caged so much. He'd tear up his fresh newspaper every day. Delyriam used to let him out to wander around. (We think he was living on the streets for awhile before being brought in.)
Well obviously we kept him. It would be very difficult for me to foster and animal and give it up after. Nombly had a gentle, sweet nature. He was a little bit timid, a bit neurotic, but soon warmed to visitors. My friend Gilby is uncomfortable around animals because he doesn't understand them, so their sudden movements startle him etc. But he loved Nombly, because he would move slowwwly and gently.
Most people know that my husband had a rough childhood. F. used to come to our apartment (we were dating) and when he and Nombly met it was love at first sight. They were both a little bit broken, both saw the world in the same way, and both had the same gentle spirit.
While Nombly would cuddle and hang with me and Delyriam too, Fernando was the center of his universe. When Delyriam and I un-cohabitated (when I got married to F) it was obvious that Fernando and I would take the cats, while Delyriam took the dogs. If Fernando and I had ever divorced, there's no question I would have had to give Nombly up.
When Fernando got home from work, Nombly would hop about his feet until F. finally picked him up. When F would wake up, Nombly was the first down the hall to greet him. He was happiest when being held by Fernando, or sitting on his lap, or guarding him while he played his video games.
And Fernando felt the same way about Nombly. Nombly was his soft place to fall. His unconditional love. His unjudgmental best friend.
What I love about the above photo is that we somehow managed to capture this relationship on "film". The universe was just a little bit less scary because they had each other.
The first I'd see of Fernando when he woke up. Always with Nombs on shoulder...
Haley and Minion are great, but there's a lot less Tenderness around here since Nombly died in 2009.
I finished A Tale of Two Cities today. I'm not reading a lot right now, so it's all slow going. 
Haley and Minion are great, but there's a lot less Tenderness around here since Nombly died in 2009.
