So, I haven't done a real post here or on OD for a week, and while I have things to say, my brain's not cooperating. So, a survey. Like that's a surprise.

I see… my dogs, and Fuzzy.
I need… more hours in the day.
I find… bits and pieces of chewed up pink plush aliens (Thanks Cleo)
I want… a bigger house…and a maid.
I have… enough.
I wish… we had just one more room.
I love… many.
I hate… ants, spiders, and temperatures over 80
I miss… summer rainstorms
I fear… being homeless.
I feel… itchy, and tired.
I hear… one of Fuzzy's incessant games.
I smell… leftover chicken.
I crave… my grandfather's iced tea
I search…for more books to read.
I wonder… if rates will stay this good for a while.
I regret… not being more outgoing. I suck at making friends.

When was the last time you…
Smiled? Tonight
Laughed? Tonight, after Fuzzy made some commment about the movie we just watched.
Cried? Last night, when I woke up having asthma issues, and couldn't breathe
Bought something? I bought a fax machine on Friday. Does that count?
Danced? I dance around my living room all the time. Shh. Don't tell anyone.
Were sarcastic? Me? Sarcastic? Never!
Kissed someone? About three minutes ago.
Talked to an ex? My most ex-y ex is in jail, actually, so, um, no.
Watched your favorite movie? I don't have a single favorite.
Had a nightmare? Not many, not since Fuzzy taught me the key to lucid dreaming.

A Last time for everything…
Last book you read: Second Thyme Around by Kate Fforde
Last movie you saw: We just finished watching K-PAX
Last song you heard: Um…we were listening to “Once More with Feeling” in the car a while ago. But I don't remember which track.
Last thing you had to drink: Water
Last time you showered: This morning
Last thing you ate: We had chicken tonight.
Do You…
1. Smoke? No. I can't stand the smell, and it ruins your vocal cords.
2. Do drugs? Only coffee. And shopping.
3. Have sex? Quite.
4. Sleep with stuffed animals? Not since I was seven.
5. Live in the moment? Sometimes
6. Have a boyfriend/girlfriend? I am married to a SNAG
7. Have a dream that keeps coming back? Yes.
8. Play an instrument? I sing, and play the cello. I'm learning to play the piano.
9. Believe there is life on other planets? I believe it's possible.
10. Remember your first love? Yes
11. Still love him/her? Not romantically
12. Read the newspaper? Sometimes.
13. Have any gay or lesbian friends? Yes
14. Believe in miracles? Yes
15. Believe it's possible to remain faithful forever? Yes
16. Consider yourself tolerant of others? In theory, yes, in practice…not as much as I should be.
17. Consider love a mistake? Never
18. Like the taste of alcohol? Depends on the drink. I do /not/ like brandy or sherry.
19. Have a favorite candy? My favorite grocery store candy is York Peppermint Patties. 20. Believe in Astrology? Only as a form of entertainment.
21. Believe in magic? In the Clarke-ian sense.
22. Believe in God? I can't answer this within the confines of a survey
23. Pray? Not specifically.
24. Go to church? Only when I'm craving a free Bach concert
25. Have any secrets? Yes
26. Have any pets? Two small dogs.
27. Do well in school? I tested well, but never saw the point in homework. If I hadn't gone to a performing arts school, I'd never have survived high school.
28. Go to or plan to go to college? Yes. Hated that too. I don't do well in highly structured environments.
29. Have a major? I'll never tell.
30. Talk to strangers who instant message you? Not generally.
31. Wear hats? I collect hats.
32. Have any piercings? Two in each ear, though only one in each is ever used these days.
33. Have any tattoos? I have an on-again/off-again interest in tattoos. But no actual ones.
34. Hate yourself? I hate specific things about myself. Like, I hate that I'm shy, and snobbish.
35. Have an obsession? Words, books, reading.
36. Collect anything? Hats, rare books, fountain pens, stationery
37. Have a best friend? Yes, actually.
38. Wish on stars? Never.
39. Like your handwriting? I used to have really nice handwriting. Now, thanks to computer work, I don't. Ugh.
40. Have any bad habits? Yes.
41. Care about looks? Sometimes.
42. Believe in witches? Not in the Halloween-ish green skin and warts sense.
43. Believe in Satan? No.
44. Believe in ghosts? Yes, for the most part. Or at least, I believe in the possibility.
45. Believe in Santa? No.
46. Believe in the Easter Bunny? No.
47. Believe in the Tooth Fairy? No.
48. Have a second family? Yes. In fact, I have my own room at my friend J's house in Littleton.
49. Trust others easily? No.
50. Like noise? Sometimes.
51. Take walks in the rain? Yes.
52. Kiss with your eyes closed? Sometimes.
53. Sing in the shower? Always.
54. Own handcuffs? No
55. Have any scars? One.

I can't focus on what I'm doing, or what I'm trying to get done, or even on stringing together coherent sentences, so, here's a quizlet for which I blame . I'm rather disturbed by how accurately this result depicts my mood right now. I really need to interact with people more, I think.

Which of the Mayfair Witches are YOU Most Like?

Find out now! Only from the Quiz Junkie

And then there's this quizlet, which I'm blaming for, because she doesn't get blamed for enough :)

What Natural Disaster are you? Take the quiz!

I don't do quizzes very often. Well I do, I just rarely post them.
In any case, I did

What Egyptian Deity are you? go to:the quiz!

I've been awake since five AM Central time, after going to bed around one AM central time, so if this is disjointed, I'm pinning it on jet lag.

Our last day in Minneapolis was a lazy one. We were up early for breakfast, because it came with the room and all. I'm not usually a breakfast eater, though I love breakfast food. One of the things I miss from working at Gateway is the nightly Perkins trip after working swing shift. The goal was always to get from work to Perkins early enough to get a certain round table in Pruitt's section, and then to be out before 2 AM when Scary Vaccuum Guy showed up. In any case, three years of swing-shift and a lifelong tendency towards nocturnalism have combined with the effect of me being unable to eat before 10 AM, so being awake for breakfast, and actually eating it, was a rare treat.

We then went back to the room and napped, because we could. There's something really indulgent in sprawling in a comfortable bed, with only the whirring of the air conditioner to lull you into blissful sleep.

Later, we made our pilgrimage to the Mall of America. For such a huge place, it manages to boast two things that I wish all malls could offer: There is always parking, and even though there are masses of people, it never feels excessively crowded. Add the fact that it has Macy's, Nordstrom, and Bloomingdale's all under one roof, and you have Shopping Ecstasy. Yes, I bought stuff, but just clothes, nothing interesting. I missed the Fossil store and now I regret it, because I really need a new watch.

Just as we were entering the mall, our friend Ben called and said, “We're all doing dinner, and we feel bad for not spending time with you. You must come, and you get to choose the restaurant.” I suggested Ichiban, which is sort of like Benihana. The nice thing about such places is that you can watch the chef if there's a lull in conversation. Still, the group was a warm one: Ben, Julia, Fuzzy, me, Ben's dad, who flew in from London, his brother and sister-in-law, who flew in from Wales, and his mother and stepfather, who live in Rapid City. I generally get lost in crowds, because it takes me a long time to warm up to folks, but two cosmos while we were waiting for our table really helped.

Back to the hotel, where we packed, and forced ourselves back to bed. I was so concerned about mising our alarm that I slept in two hour chunks, waking up to glance at the time, and then going back to sleep. This wasn't planned, just something my brain loves to do to me. We were the first people to eat breakfast this morning, but it was 6:30, so I guess that's not unusual. I'm glad I insisted that we get up so early, though, because we managed to get lost on the 14-minute drive to the airport.

Then, there was the usual race to get through security, where, for once, I was not selected for random bomb-sniffing. The x-ray operator made envious comments about Fuzzy's laptop, but I protested that mine was cuter. He said, “No, bigger is better. It is a man-thing,” in a really beautiful Jamaican or Haitian accent.

The plane trip home was as packed as the trip here, with even more children. At one point, they asked for volunteers because the trip was oversold (how, I ask, can you oversell a flight, when they assign seats at ticketing?), so we volunteered. It turned out they didn't need our seats, but they gave us certs for extra miles just for offering. I could write an entire entry on the lack of attention paid by parents to the children on this plane, but that will wait. In the meantime, at least I'm home, groggy, and tired, and still getting used to such dark hair.

I'm told that most Americans are still afraid to fly, leftover terror from last September, but evidently those people don't live in San Jose, because our flight on Thursday was completely full, and it was the first time I'd been on a completely-full flight since July 2000, and that was on Southwest, which doesn't count. Still, the Northwest folk, were, if not cheery, at least trying to recognize the 4th. Our lead flight attendant, Mel, was dressed as Uncle Sam, and, when asked why, said he was told he got a reprieve from income taxes til 2005 if he dressed that way. He was kidding, of course. Later, during the safety prep, he included the line, “This is a non-smoking flight. Anyone caught smoking will be thrown out the plane window.” It's the kind of line that only draws a laugh from 140 people trapped in an airplane with you, I think.

* * * * *

When we got to the Radisson in Roseville, we were told by the very sweet but incredibly clueless desk person that no, this Radisson did not have in-room highspeed access. So we asked her if she could find us a room in a Radisson who did, and her solution was to give us the phone book. Oy. So we moved to the Radisson Plaza in the heart of downtown Minneapolis, to a foofy room that has in-room T1, and chocolate on the pillows, and – get this – was $10 less per night. Yay downtown! (Of course, being the geeks that we are, we bought a mini-hub so that we could share the in-room access.)

* * * * *

Yesterday morning Claudia the Concierge found me a hair salon that would do hair coloring on short notice. She got me an appointment at Juut which calls itself a salonspa (no punctuation). I was a little worried that, since it was upscale and right next to Nieman Marcus, it would cost a small fortune, but was pleasantly surprised, because my $50 ($65 with the tip to Erica, who was just wonderful) got me a glass of water, a foot massage, all-0ver hair coloring, and not just the root-touch up I'd planned, and lovely tea. I wish there was a Juut in the mall near me; I'd switch my affiliations in a minute. In any case, we didn't just redo my roots, we actually recolored all my hair, because I'd mentioned that I'm working such long hours I don't have the time or inclination to keep up with dying it red, so she said, “Well, your own hair is really dark, and we can cover the red, but red's persistant, and we'll have to use so much green and blue that for a while this will be really dark.” The net result is that, until I wash this tomorrow, my hair is that black-brown-chestnut combination, that you generally see on Asians who've been in the sun a lot. It's very dark, and I'd never leave it this dark, and it's weird seeing dark hair in the mirror, when I've had some shade of red since I was 15 or so, but, I think I like it. It definitely brings out the Italian part of my heritage.

* * * * *

New hair color means new makeup, so I stopped at Nieman Marcus, and indulged at the Clinique counter, and was reminded again how very polite midwesterners are. Walk into Nordstrom, and you get sniffed at, walk into Nieman Marcus, and they apologize for not knowing everything about Clinique because they usually cover Lancome. The saleswoman and I had fun picking a new lipstick (she tried some, too), and I ended up with Rasperry Glace. I added new blush to my purchases, and then asked about nail polish, and she said, “It'll take me a minute to find it, but if you don't mind waiting, it'll be worth it, because you'll get the free gift.” So I did – on both counts.

* * * * *

After wandering through the skyway that led back to my hotel (almost all of the core of downtown Minneapolis is connected by skyways, which is great, because you can wander around and have signs that tell you how to get back, and air conditioning, and no mosquitoes), and hooking up with Fuzzy again, we dressed and left for the wedding. It was nice, as weddings go. Short, sweet, and the judge was great, telling them “We wish for you a home. Not one of wood and plaster, but a symbolic home, where your love and your personal values will take root and bloom. A home where truth and peace and social justice all dwell with you.” The readings were done by family members, and were everything from Elizabeth Barrett Browning, to Shakespeare, and really simple. The wedding itself was in a rented mansion, now owned by the Association of University Women. It was right next door to the Governor's Mansion on Summit Avenue in St. Paul, and was really lovely, and tasteful. Ben, the groom, a friend of Fuzzy's from college, is English, and so there were crackers for every guest. The were nice though, and didn't make everyone link arms to pull the crackers. I still want to know how they managed to get that many crackers that all had purple hats inside, since their colors were silver and purple, but I suppose you can order them that way. The reception was dry – a rule of the mansion, not a personal choice – but very warm, even though we really didn't know anyone. We sat with Julia's(the bride) boss, and I realized that she really has grown from the flighty nineteen year old we didn't really like when we first met her. We opted NOT to leave a personal message on the video tape, because Fuzzy couldn't think of anything, and I didn't think, “Congratulations you two. Julia, if you hurt Ben, I'll kill you,” would be entirely appropriate.

* * * * *

So, we were back at the hotel by 10:30, and desperate for chocolate, we ordered room service, and then tumbled into bed. Today, all we've accomplished is eating breakfast, and Fuzzy's napping now. We might hit the Mall of America or might go on a Riverboat Cruise, but I'm not sure. I do know it'll be an early day, because we have to be up at dawn to make our 9:00 AM flight home.

Ah, home, I can't wait. I love seeing new places, but I love being tucked up at home, with my dogs, as well.

Someone at OD posted this survey about how people interact with their parents. (If you can't read it, and want the questions, let me know.)

I never met my biological father, and my mother's first husband was a classic abuser's offspring. He'd wave a baton in front of your face, and yell, and then go curl up in a ball because he was so mortified that he was becoming like his own father. He never actually hit me, though he did tell me, when my mother and I were leaving for California in 1981, that he'd hunt me down and kill me. The rational part of my brain knows that this was an idle threat, a last dig. The irrational part of me still freezes whenever a beige classic beetle comes into view, or my name is spoken in a certain inflection.

I am lucky, though, that her second husband, whom she's been married to for 20 years now, is a wonderful caring man, and while I will never call him “Dad,” and it took me more than 15 of those 20 years to get to the point where I could tell him I love him, I'm a much better person for having him in my life.

I've been through stages where I've sworn I'd never speak to my mother, and I've been through stages where we've gone out for coffee every Saturday morning. That's all pretty normal, I guess.

There really isn't any point to this entry. Just thoughts sparked by a survey.

…when you meet someone who bewitches you.

* * *
I've had Leonard Bernstein tunes in my head all weekend, since seeing “Leonard Bernstein's New York” on Ovation. Admittedly, I only watched it because I went to high school with one of the castmembers, but the tunes were so infectious…

* * *
I still haven't managed to contact an a/c installer, which meant I was effectively banned from computer use because the computer room was just too hot this weekend. Probably for the best, anyway. I got some reading done, played with the dogs, and even spent a few hours working on the stack of stuff on my desk at the office. Yay, productivity.

* * *
I dragged Fuzzy out clothes shopping, so he'd have something which I deem acceptable to wear to his friend's wedding this weekend. We spent $400 on him at Structure, and learned a lot about their very confusing discount system. It rivals the rules for Fizbin. Really. “Blue shirts are 49.95 regularly, but 34.95 on Tuesdays when it's dark, and 19.95 if you buy 17 other items while hopping on one foot.” What? Exaggerate? Me?

* * *
This weekend made history: I spent more on clothes for Fuzzy than for myself. But I still need another pair of sandals, to replace the Tevas that Cleo-dog ate, and a new wristwatch, to replace the one I bought in Iowa last summer, and which didn't even survive the plane-trip home. I've been watch-less ever since, and I feel all out-of-kilter, albeit subtly so.

* * *
The first attempt at sourdough wasn't abysmal – I haven't baked bread in too long, and need to re-learn those skills – but I do need a baking stone. Soon.

* * *
So much for journal fodder. Back to work now.
*wanders off singing*

…When he smiles at me, everything's hazey and so out of focus…