Wild Cards

I mentioned previously that I devour books. Seriously, I read incredibly fast. I have friends that envy my ability to read quickly, but they don't realize the amount of money I spend on books - even at the local used book store. As a child in the fourth grade, I was placed in the advanced fourth grade English class because my teachers made the assumption that I was smart rather than just a quick reader. That didn't last long. Material boring? I read faster. Material interesting? I read slower. Do I consciously do this? No, it's all subconscious. Ask me about a horrible book I read and all I could tell you is the basics and that I didn't like it. Now ask me about a book I loved and you'll get all sorts of details.

Typically I read Christine Feehan, Sherilyn Kenyon and Laurell Hamilton. You know, the supernatural soft (and sometimes hard) porn type books. Werewolves, vampires, fey, humans with preternatural abilities mixed in with romance, sex and if I'm lucky some BDSM as well. However I've read all their series and there wasn't anything new by them to read the last time I hit the book store. As I was browsing the science fiction section I came across Busted Flush with George R.R. Martin in bold across the top of the cover. I've read his stuff, liked it and picked it up. It's edited by George R.R. Martin and a collaborative works book. I took it home, read it and realized I was reading book 19!! Oh Gods you are unkind. I hate picking up a book in the middle or end of a series and worse, to find out so after reading it. Idiot. Except for the fact I fell in love with it. It reminded me of X-Men except I don't have to read a comic. I prefer to have the images in my head based on the description of the authors, one of the things I hate about books turned into movies - the characters are never like I pictured in my head.
I liked it enough to go back to the bookstore and pick up book 18 (Inside Straight), then drove downtown to the used bookstore to see what I could find there, and then went home and searched ebay and half.com for more. I was able to pick up books one (Wild Cards Volume 1) and two (Wild Cards, Aces High). A week later while I was cooking dinner, I slide a bowl across the counter and to my surprise, books three (Wild Cards, Jokers Wild) and four (Wild Cards, Aces Abroad) were standing there. My boyfriend smiled at me and said, "I picked you up a present." Squeals came from me in response.

The series originated with an rpg game, SuperWorld, that became a "two-year-long role-playing orgy that engulfed" not only George R.R. Martin, but the rest of his Albuquerque gaming circle. They took their characters and and turned it into a collaborative project, a shared world. A world started in 1986 and is still being created today.

I have read, not devoured but read, the first three and am holding off on the fourth as I don't have any more of the series...yet. It's like the last delicious truffle that you are holding on to because you have no more delectable chocolate of this kind and you want to savor it.

My bottle

I am a professional at taking my emotions and shoving them into a bottle and quickly corking it. I do it when I'm afraid that the words in my head will hurt someone I care about. I do it when I'm scared that the words in my head will be used against me if I speak them aloud. Basically I do it in all circumstances except when it has to do with my children, then the mama bear in me comes out. I've been mean and nasty via email - does that count? It's not face to face but still makes my stomach turn into a net chock full of butterflies. Face to face discussions are even worse.

Something that ought to be nothing becomes gigantic in my head. Here's an example from recent conversation.

'What are you thinking?'
Insert thought bubble 'Sex would make this day even better than it already is.'
Deer in headlights look.
'Nothing.'
'You sure? You had a thinky look.'
'What's a thinky look?'
'I know your tell. You had a thinky look.'
'It's nothing.' (looks away)
'You sure? If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to.'

Silence, mind racing as I try to come up with something that would work as to what I was thinking about. I say something lame and he calls me on it. He is looking upset now and makes a comment about how it bothers him that I'm not comfortable enough with him to share my thoughts. I am now in a spiral of despair. I care about him and feel stupid for not having said what I was thinking. My very good mood is now a very bad mood. Turn lights out, he wraps his arms around me and I lose it. Tears rolling down my face turn to sobs which turn to straight up bawling. I finally talk, I talk about how stupid it is to sprial this way, how I feel as if all I do is think about sex (because it's the one thing I can't talk about with him - I know wtf?!), how I'm afraid he'll tease me about it - all while crying.

I'm like this beautiful bottle of champagne, except that instead of sweet, cool, crisp, bubbly liquid, you get tears, frustration and hysteria. Go me.

Cookie fail

I'm making cookies to donate to a bake sale to help fund a nonprofit animal shelter/rabies clinic that is being held locally. So I looked at my recipe and decided to double it, doubling equates to 10 dozen cookies. The cookies were a hit with my friends and children last time I made them, despite the nose turning of child number 3 when he read, "Peanut Butter Granola Pecan Chocolate Chip Cookies." Last night, while frazzled, I opened 8 sticks of butter and put them in a bowl to soften.Did I mention I work in the education field? Somehow the concept of two sticks = 1 cup escaped me. I would like to believe that I was thinking 1 box of butter = 1 cup, therefore a double box = 2 cups, but c'mon even I know better than that. At least in a well rested, non-stressed out state.

So I mix up my "double" batch of everything (except for the butter) and think to myself, what is wrong with this...this doesn't look right. It doesn't taste right either. I start thinking about it and say aloud, "Oh fuck me." I even baked a dozen like that....they kind of melted all over my cookie sheet and were more like semi-baked raw cookie dough than anything moderately resembling a cookie. Off to the store, I pick up more peanut butter, more brown sugar and more granola and then wander around looking for a gigantic bowl. My 8 quart bowl was already full. No such luck.I returned home and pulled out my 16-quart stock pot. Yes, I had to make my 'quadruple' batch in the stock pot and it was 3/4 full with cookie dough when I was done. My arms ache from stirring up that much dough. So far today I've baked 1/4 of the dough and it's time for a break.


Is this butter/cookie fiasco a fail? Depends on how you look at it - a)I'm baking until the damn sun sets and rises again, which totally sucks or b)I am making 20 dozen cookies and 15 dozen (instead of the original intention of 5 dozen) cookies will go to the nonprofit organization's bake sale. You decide.

Love is a fistful . . .

of flowers!

My sweet boyfriend brought me these last Thursday. He walked in thrust them out and said, "These are for you."

Watching bad movies so you don't have to - The Fourth Kind

It's a common joke amongst my friends. "If Musns chose the movie to watch, it's going to blow."

I am beginning to think my track record may be changing or I have spent enough time with good friends that (gasp!) my movie choices are rubbing off on them. I'm sure they would claim it's my fault and the bad movie thing is contagious.

Last night we watched The Fourth Kind with Milla Jovovitch. Conversation that started about a third of the way through the movie:

"This is a bit slow."
"A bit???"
"Okay, ALOT."
"It's like watch Milla Jovovitch painting a wall."
"And she's NOT even naked!"

The movie was slow, tedious and not very entertaining. I barely remember seeing previews, but then again I don't have 'real' television (Netflix and Hulu are my friends). I was expecting to see a science fiction thriller type of movie. It was more like a science fiction drama that dragged on forever with very little action. I could go into more detail but really that's all you need to know - tedious at best.

Coming from yours truly, watching bad movies so you don't have to.

Summer

It's mid-July and summer is in full force along with boredom. As someone fairly new to the education industry, this is a tad unsettling. It's SUMMER. This ought to translate to blue skies, bright sunshine and fun. Emphasis on fun.

Don't get me wrong, I have played in the pool many times. I have been nibbled on by fish in a lake. I have eaten food barbecued by family. I have sewn an apron, three sleeveless tops, a dress and have two other projects I am thoroughly disgusted by. I have read 40+ books, 10 of which were over a course of 4 days. I am working a couple hours of week at a job that my boss wouldn't let me quit (construction industry). I witnessed my grandmother dying in June. I have watched too many horrible movies. I am watching job postings for the fall like a hawk and constantly look for work in other fields. In August I am taking five children to NC for a week.

I am bored. I devour books at an alarming rate which is not cost effective for my wallet and the local library has very little that I am interested in reading. Free - yes, selection - poor. I am bored with sewing. Combine the amount of sewing I did in June with the the two incomplete projects (one looks horrible and the other is being torn apart for the THIRD time) leaves me with no desire to pick up another swath of fabric and create something.

I surf the net but find little that actually entertains me. I could play World of Warcraft but that has bored me since May. I keep paying for it but don't even log on.

Here I am, bored. Open to suggestions.