Woo Hoo!

My connection is back up! PGAPTA.

Reminder to self:

First shoes, then pants.

Biscuits

I ate five of them for breakfast this morning.

Urp.

Short and Tall, we've got em all

Yesterday while waiting for the bus so I could go see my therapist I saw this guy cycling up Broadway on his recumbent bike reeeeaaaalllyyy sloooooowwwllyy. His head was about 2 feet above the ground, and since he was in the right-turn lane and it's a busy road, cars kept pulling partway into the lane, finally spotting the diminutive fella, and stopping short.

At his slow, sluglike pace (I kept waiting for him to fall over), he reached the light just as it turned green, and then accelerated rapidly, whizzing thru the intersection and zipping off to places unknown. I guess he was going slow so the light would change before he got to the intersection because if he had to stop, then he would have to unlatch his feet from the pedals since he's in those special bike shoes that are great for attaching you to your bike except for those times when you don't really want to be attached and then there you are, stuck on your bike as it topples over slowly and you topple with it feeling like an idiot.

Which put me in mind of the Tall Bike Riders, whom I have seen a couple of times now in Berkeley, riding way up above the ground on their modified bikes. The first time I saw one I couldn't figure out how they would stop for a light without falling over; would they have to jump off, and then find a stepladder once the light changed?

Jen assured me that tall bike riders would just go across town without stopping until they reach their destination. I should have a punchline of some sort here, but can't think of one. But keep your eyes open for the tall bike riders! Because not only are they interesting, artistic, and cool, they also apparently don't stop at stop signs. Ok, I guess that was my punchline.

So much, all the time

Went to McNear's beach today in San Rafael, with Jossie and her kids, Jake and Jonah; I haven't been there since I was about 10 or 11. Jossie's family used to take me there back in the old days, and we always had a great time, swimming in the pool, or walking way, way out on the mud flats until we started to panic & had to head back.

It's nice to go there as a grown up too, even though the tide was in & we couldn't walk out on the mud. We ate Fritos and pbj sandwiches, drank iced tea, and relaxed with the kids. Aaah.

Obviously, this picture was not taken at the beach, but it from the tea party I held several weeks ago. Everybody who came was absolutely fabulous, it was a great group of people, and we all got hyped up on tea and sugary cupcakes with strawberry buttercream frosting, and then the party segued into a sing-along and we all sang a number of songs really well, and then sang "I Will Survive" with great gusto but little accuracy. We also sang "Unchained Melody," and I got to play Linda a song I wrote for her!

It was a fabulous party.

And a nice day at the beach.

The Golden Compass

OK so maybe this is a little dorky but I am excited that they are making a movie out of one of my favorite books. Actually the first book in a fantasy trilogy comprised of The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. The author, Philip Pullman, creates a rich world which I am not going to tell you about because you should go out and read the books yourself.

But I will tell you one thing, which is that in the world of The Golden Compass, all people have daemons, or animal familiars, that are like extensions of themselves. And on the website for the movie you can get your own daemon, based on your personality. Which I have done, and would you-all like a chance to comment? Is this the right daemon for me? Check out my little daemon-blurb in the upper right of this blog.

Website for Philip Pullman: http://www.philip-pullman.com/
Website for the movie: http://www.goldencompassmovie.com/

Looking at Philip Pullman's blog, I see that he has not posted there since January (of which year, I don't know). So now I don't feel so terribly remiss in my laggardly blogging habits. I know, I know, but I won't promise to blog more because that sort of thing always backfires on me!

BTW, this is post number 100. Yay!

Grrrrrr!

I am annoyed right now.

Theme Party: Tiki Rebirth

Is it a drinking party? Or a polynesian rebirth ritual? Or what???

I am having a small tiki party on Saturday to celebrate...my divorce becoming final. Yup, Rhys and I will be no more. Legally speaking. People have asked me if I'll be terribly upset. And they have asked if I will be jumping around, whooping with joy. My answer to both is: I don't know.

But you can find out with me if you come over and visit! I haven't decided the exact details such as time and how much I can depend on people's potlucking generosity, but when I do you-all can expect a phone call!

Troll Hall of Shame

I am very embarrassed to say that I have not yet mailed the fabulous prize out to the winner of my Anita Blake trivia contest! Poor Tiffky is much deprived, and though she has politely not commented on her missing loot, I am sure that late at night when she is alone she may shed a quiet tear or two because she does not have an erotic poster of Jean-Claude the vampire with this Hand Down his Pants.

I swear, I'll mail it this week. Troll's Honor!

New Song

Found a new song at chordie.com this weekend...I never heard it before but instantly fell in love with the lyrics, so I invented a melody based on the chords that were supplied with the lyrics. I love it and can't stop playing it--title is "I've Heard that Tear-Stained Monologue You Do There by the Door Before You Leave."

Attributed to Mason Williams (see pic). He played it on the album Handmade (1970) but I don't see it under his list of compositions...

I know I haven't written in the blog for a long time. I've been kinda down & just didn't feel into it. But I am hoping to get back into the swing of things!

Coincidence?

So on Wednesday night I decided I wanted to learn to play the song "Sandy" from the movie Grease. On my ukulele, I mean. (this is the song that John Travolta sings after Olivia gets pissed at him in and leaves him at the drive in.) And I looked around at all my favorite music sites but could not for the life of me find the actual chords, just lyrics. It was annoying! Well, whatever.

So I gave up. But then the next morning I was walking my dog, the beautiful and entrancing Rose, and a garbage truck came rolling along beside me with the guys on the back hollering a song. Do you know what song that was? Can you guess?

What are the odds that for the first time in my life I would encounter singing garbagemen AND THEY WOULD BE SINGING THE SAME SONG????

Obviously there is some sort of confluence in my life, or perhaps the world is ending.

hideous?

The other day I looked at this blog on a computer at my work...and the color scheme was just awful! I don't know what is up with the color balance or whatever on that monitor, but the background was this disgusting yellow. Yuck. And the letters on the heading were all crowded together so they obscured my troll drawing.

Is that how the blog looks on other people's computers? On mine, the background is a nice taupe-ey beige background with dark browny-red letters. And the heading doesn't cover the troll...

Trolls in the Workplace

So on Friday we had a staff meeting, which means all the administrative staff at the Wright get together and have cake. Well, and we also discussed the new Diversity Committee.

But that's not really what I am writing about...do you ever find yourself just blurting something out that is maybe a little inappropriate? And then afterwards, you are not quite sure how inappropriate it was, or if anyone even noticed? And then you think you are a complete troll, unfit for normal human society?

So there has been some sort of kerfluffle about Richard Gere smooching a Bollywood queen or something...and the Wright librarian brings up the subject as we're all sitting around and waiting for the meeting to begin. And I swear it just slipped out...I just blurted something about why would the Bollywood peeps be upset, at least there were no gerbils involved...

And we moved on to other subjects, and I forgot all about it until the weekend, and then I started to worry that my co-workers were horribly offended that I mentioned the gerbil thing...even though they probably don't know about the gerbil thing (or does everyone know about the gerbil thing?)

I mean, it's not as though I described the gerbil thing at the staff meeting...

BTW, I do not think it's true. A person would have to be truly reprehensible to do that to a gerbil, and I don't think Richard Gere is reprehensible (though admittedly I don't know him all that well.)

Spent Monday morning in agony thinking I would get fired for saying gerbil. Got uptight. Then got over it. Love Mondays.

Exciting weekend

Hi! So here it is, in a nutshell:
nap, breakfast, walk dog, nap, nap, lunch, walk dog, bbq w friends and I drank some beer...
Sunday was more like nap, walk dog, can't do laundry because the neighbors are using the machine, pick up house, tea w Karin, geocache, feet are cold, dinner w mom.

Tahitian Hip Hop

So I got some new workout videos recently, and among them are The Tahitian Cardio Island Girl Dance Fitness Workout, as well as Tahitian Hip Hop. The teacher, Kili, is somewhat bizarre, but entertaining nonetheless.

I actually haven't tried the Hip Hop one yet because I am still trying to get the hang of the Tahitian hip thing. Since I don't have the moves totally down yet, it's not as much of a workout as I need, so I have been doing Island Girl for 20 mins or so and then switching to my Hip Hop Cardio DVD with the skittering bug lady.

Cleaning Troll (Not)

I had intended to do a spring cleaning today and yet somehow I still haven't started. Perhaps I could do it tomorrow before I leave for work?

It's not as though I've been too busy; here's my day so far:
Woke up, walked dog. Ate breakfast. Blogged.
Went back to bed.
Neighbor's kid came over, we worked out to my Island Girl video until he got bored and left.

Took a shower.
Took another nap. Justified this by telling myself that I am getting over a cold, and spring cleaning is overrated anyway.

Got up because neighbor's baby was crying. Went next door, the baby saw my giant boobs and instantly stopped crying. Held baby for a while.
Jason left with the kids, so I went home and apathetically played my uke.

And now I am drinking strong tea in hopes that the caffeine will motivate me, while blogging despite the fact that I really have nothing to say.

Troll Taxes

Spent Saturday day (prior to fab dip party) doing my taxes. That is, I spent 20 minutes doing my taxes and they were done-until Rhys called to remind me that this is a community property state and so I had to include his earnings for the first part of the year when we were still living together.

Argh.

Had to write a check to the IRS instead of getting a refund & now I am BROKE until the 1st of May. Guess I should have waited to buy that lingerie set!! (It's worth it though)

I mailed my taxes off with a postage stamp depicting Batman in a surly mood.

Dip!

Went to a fabulous dip gathering at Karin's last night--it was a dip potluck for Karin's bday. Yay, dip! I brought a vat of guacamole.

My favorite: the spinach dip on bagel chips. Mmm!

Building a Better Mousetrap

Stayed home today, which made my cold feel better!

Then I went up the street to Abigail's and spent waaaaay too much money on some lovely French lingerie.

Now I really feel better! (though I believe my checkbook is feeling a few pangs) Can I just say here how nice it was to find a pretty bra in my size? Usually once you get past a 36C the bras become these utilitarian things in beige with lots of wide elastic straps. I always think of English WWII matrons wearing them dutifully so the boys overseas can have silk for their parachutes.

When I run out of patriotic WWII imagery, I just feel as though the hideous elastic beige bras are some sort of punishment for being busty. But no more! Simone Perele has changed my life. But next time perhaps I'll buy online and save some dough...

I got this set...but in this color.

tiki tiki tiki

Found a store today that has a whole tiki section, with lots of tiki mugs & other accoutremont. I don't remember the name of it, but it's on Bancroft above Tele in Berkeley. The Goth biker chick who worked there had her dimples pierced. That's a new one on me. Does anyone know about this piercing? Through both her cheeks. Yowsa.

In other news, I have a cold. AGAIN. This is the second day and I am praying to all the gods out there that it stays mild and goes away quickly.

Yet Another Work Clothing Trauma

I understand the theory of stylish dressing-really! but sometimes the practice still eludes me and I unconsciously revert back to my hippie roots. Not that hippies aren't stylish. Just not my stylish.

So I have this great shawl-sweater-poncho garment which is very attractive on me, it is dark red and very soft (also it snags on everything, but that's another story.) I also have this skirt from J Jill; it is a longish a-line denim skirt with red and gold patchwork on part of one side. It has some hippie aspects to it but is appropriate for the office when worn with a more formal top (as compared to a see through Indian batik camisole with little mirrors sewn on, for example.)

If you haven't guessed this yet, I wore them both together on Thursday. It was a very cute outfit! But I didn't register how hippie like it was until I went to the restroom at work and realized that I looked as if Stevie Nicks had dressed me.

Very frightening; I was self-conscious the rest of the day AND I had the song "Stand Back" running through my head, which is especially bad because I don't know the lyrics so inside my head I was MUMBLING.

I was going to post a pic of Stevie Nicks looking just like I did on Thursday, but I found this one of her kissing a Catahoula Leopard Hound (Katrina rescue dog-did you know that Catahoulas are the Louisiana state dog?) and had to put it up.

PS for those of you who want to ask what is wrong with dressing like a hippie, I must admit: There is nothing wrong with that at all. For other people. But I'm done!

Troll Roots: Finding Your Inner Troll

I find myself musing tonight on my original motivations in starting this blog; it seems I have strayed from my roots, my intentions.

I wanted to express the trollness of it all, that crabby and quirky beast that lurks in us all (especially me). And to show that trolls are not really all bad, just mostly bad and endowed with many base emotions & desires and few tools for acting on those emotions & desires without irritating the hell out of the other trolls.

Have I done that? I can't say that I really have, it seems that mostly I've bitched about pantyhose, planned out new outfits, and rambled aimlessly on about almost whatever comes into my mind (luckily for you, I decline to share the other whatevers in my mind).

Have I been able to show the humanity in trolls, and the trolls in humanity, and the misery that ensues when one refuses to acknowledge one's inner troll?

Some of you may be wondering why I am even bothering to ponder the roots of this blog, so I'll go ahead and admit that today I discovered...

Did I mention what a nerd I am? OK: do a search for "hill troll" on Google...and this blog is the eleventh hit. I feel like Steve Martin did in The Jerk when his name got published in the phone book (for those of you who don't remember, this is before he discovered his "special purpose" and after he learned to distinguish shit from Shinola).

Weekend!!

Weekend, weekend, weekend. So many things to do! Like sleeping. And drinking tikis. And reading my email. And being oblique.

Gotta go floss. Bye!

My All-Seeing Eye

LEG, something tells me that you are looking at my blog right now. So I just want to say thanks for coming over tonite, I had a great time!

And never forget that Sept 9 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

One more thing

And I also want to add, since I have had two gin-n-oj's, that I am very disappointed that no-one commented on my Rachael Ray entry!! I worked so hard, and got that pic with the red colander and everything! Sob!

The Unbearable Awkwardness of Being

So I am on the hunt for a therapist. Since my boss is a psychologist, I asked him for some referrals!

Though a friend suggested I could just cadge some free therapy by simply asking him vague what-if questions like, "What if this girl broke up with this guy, what would be the best way to deal with it," or, "This person I know has a phobia. What's the first thing she should do? Uh huh? And then what's the next thing? Yeah. Yeah. OK, so what should my friend do next? Here, wait, hold that thought, I'm taking some notes for my friend."

But seriously. So my next step was to call some headshrinkers. Here's how my voicemail went yesterday:

Uh, hi, I'm Hilltroll? And I'm, like, looking for a therapist. Ummmmmmmmmmnnnnn...yeah. Dr N gave me your name and um, yeah. Ok. Can you um call me um back? Uhhhhhh....

The most awkward ever. The only way it could have been worse is if I had thrown in some sort of non-sequitur such as "Oh, hang on, the peanut is up my nose."

When she called back it was even more awkward, and I won't bother to go into the details. Suffice to say that I was not my usual debonair self.

The Winnah!!!!

Tiffky Doofy will soon receive a gorgeous, highly collectable poster of Jean Claude the Vampire with his hands down his pants. She guessed correctly that Anita's favorite animal is the penguin!

I will send this poster to her shortly at the same address I used to send her christmas card last year. Uh, you did get a card from me, right?

I got this image at www.funnypics4all.com. Look out for popups, though.

Anita Blake Graphic Novel Contest!!!

Did y'all know that Laurell K. Hamilton's infamously badly-written yet strangely alluring and addictive vampire series is now a monthly comic book? It's all very exciting; I found out when I was chatting with the comic book store lady, Paula, and then I was ON FIRE I thought it was so cool--though not as cool as it would be if, say, Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan novels were put in graphic form (which is actually being done now in France, and I wonder if an English translation will follow quickly)

So I was babbling on about how fun Hamilton's novels are even though they are so badly badly written and I noticed that Paula kept referring to her as Laurell; so then I was totally embarrassed since it seems Paula knows Hamilton personally and here I am badmouthing her writing...I thought Hamilton lived in Missouri or something, how was I to guess? Or maybe everyone calls her Laurell, just like everyone calls Mercedes Lackey "Misty." Just goes to show, it's never a good idea to badmouth a person, even if you mean it nicely and there seems to be no way it could get back to them...

But what can I say? The writing is dreadful, and she has the most bizarre pacing I have ever encountered. I keep waiting for her to come out with a 500 page novel where the entire plot takes place in Anita's bathroom while she takes an epic 15-minute piss. If you have read her books, the previous sentence will possibly make sense to you.

So since they are promoting the series, I scored on a POSTER of that hot master vampire, Jean Claude. AND I am willing to send it to the first person who can tell me:

What is Anita's favorite animal?!?

Porn on the Bus

This afternoon I was riding the bus home and reading a book, which today happened to be "One Kiss from You" by Christina Dodd; the sun was out, the bus was packed with a variety of folks, and after some time reading I happened upon a steamy scene.

Which of course all romance novels have, but it's sorta wierd reading one on the bus because there's all these people around and I start to wonder if someone is reading over my shoulder or do they suspect that I am reading porn? Does it show on my face?

And then I just got distracted by the passengers around me, so I put the book away since I was getting embarrassed anyhow. There was this immensely fat guy sitting across from me, reading a Louis L'Amour novel, and he was wearing a really grimy red baseball cap with a brass pin in the shape of an alligator. Every once in a while he would tell his kid sitting next to him to be quiet--I'm not sure why, since the kid wasn't really making any noise. He was about 7 or 8, and he had a small toy revolver that made a loud click when you pull the trigger, and he kept shooting himself over and over and over: in the side of the head, in the heart, the eye, the neck. I think he might have been bored. Dead bored.

The Burden of Fame

I'm really worried about Rachael Ray.

I don't know what's holding her together, what with the cooking show, her own magazine, constant magazine & television appearances, and of all things, a talk show. I don't think there's enough speed in the world to keep someone going through all that (and never mind the Nat Enq stuff about her cheating hubby.)

The other day I was at my best friend's house, and over the piercing, clarion voice of her four-year-old we were sorta watching Rachael Ray on the food channel. And I have to say, she seems much more stressed out than she did a couple of years ago. The whole time she never looked at the camera, she was too rushed! Poor thing. She was cooking this pizza, it's like a pizza salad where (and I'm guessing a little here because it's hard to pay attention with little Jacob sitting on the couch with me, relentlessly kicking my leg) she chopped up a LOT of herbs & greens (like arugula & stuff) and put it on this pizza right when it came out of the oven, so the heat wilted the greens a little. And the pizza wasn't super cheesy, so it would be more light.

In fact, that is similar to how I make my own signature margherita pizza: as soon as the cheese and tomato/garlic-sauced pizza comes out of the oven, I fling generous handfuls of chiffonadededed basil on top so it sort of relaxes onto the cheese with a soft sigh: Aahhh. Then I eat it all.

To restate my concern, I am worried about Rachael Ray. And I haven't even mentioned all those fucking Triscuit and Wheat Thin boxes with her face on there looking kinda scary.

But that pizza still looked pretty darn good; almost as good as my pizza.

OK, gotta go floss. Bye!

Revisiting the Thrill of Twill

Just so y'all know, the really expensive & beautiful silk half slip I bought at Nordstrom's to combat the creeping twill skirt...didn't work. My solution: no pantyhose, ever, with that skirt; instead I am waering knee socks and tall boots (and it looks super cute).

Squeaky Clean

I like to blog and floss at the same time.

Hilltroll Reveals All

I was thinking how sometimes one can blurt out something in mixed company that says a little more about oneself than intended. For example, at this memorial thing on Saturday: I made some idle comment to Tricia about the superstition that if you put your purse on the floor your money will all run out; and then she responded with the trivia tidbit that "they" recommend that women sterilize the bottoms of their purses every couple of weeks because of the bacteria which accumulates when purses are set down on the floor in public restrooms.

"Eeeww!" I squeal, "I would never set my purse down in the bathroom!" (and I hope you wouldn't either; it's yucky.)

Which is quite innocuous until one realizes that I was sitting in a crowd of psychologists, half of whom no doubt immediatly diagnosed me with misophobia and possibly OCD (I'd better be careful about mentioning my ritualistic hand-washing habits).

Gotta keep my guard up in this place, lest I become some sort of test subject or social experiment....

Oh, did I mention that the president of the school was sitting right behind me? I think it's cool to squeal involuntarily at memorial services.

Memorial Update

We had to leave early because my ride had an appointment. So we missed out on the speeches and stuff, but ate some excellent food & had a chance to extend condolences. Felt guilty for leaving early. But glad at the same time.

Pray for the Dead and the Dead Will Pray for You

I am going to a memorial service today for someone I have never met. She used to be head librarian at the school where I work, but she became sick 3 days before I started. Then she passed on 3 weeks later.

I generally don't care much for memorial services anyway, but this one poses a special challenge for me. I want to go out of respect for my coworkers, who were very close to L; but what do I say? It's not as though I have anything personal to share...I wonder what Miss Manners would think.

OK, Miss Manners does not have a website. So I looked at Etiquette Hell, which wasn't really helpful but had some great/terrible stories to tell.

Halfway through these tales of woe, I recalled a funeral service I attended with my ex a few years ago for C, who we met through our friend A, his grown stepson. They were very close, and lived together, along with A's son. C was a wonderful man, who told great stories, cooked for the household, and really held the family together; so it was no surprise that a lot of people attended the service.

There was a non-denominational sermon given by a friend of the family, and then they asked friends to come up and speak a few words, all very standard. But there was this one guy who insisted on speaking even though he didn't know C at all! Worse, he rambled painfully on and on and on about the meaning of death in general, and on the fact that he thought, based on what people were saying at the service, that C was a great guy. He talked for a REALLY LONG time.

Very uncomfortable. So I'll be sure not to do that, yeah.

Evil Pantyhose II: meat grinders from HELL

So this morning I was running late and donning my cute little outfit for the day and I'm like, "Fuck, I have to wear tights again to cover this fucking tattoo."

So I put on black tights and they're really uncomfortable but I'm late, so I just go.

Slowly, the pantyhose became tighter and tighter, until I thought my legs were going to fall right off behind my desk at work, and people would be asking me, "Hey what's that big pool of blood creeping out under your desk," and I'd be, like, "Oh damn, I thought the fucking nylons would hold the blood in, here, wait a second while I pick up my legs from off the floor."

Hate hate hate the pantyhose. I threw that pair out the instant I got home. Vengefully. I think they must have been the l'eggs I bought the other week that were really too small (even though the manufacturer claims they should fit me.)

Hey, pantyhose marketers! Listen up: THEY DON'T FIT.

The Thrill of Twill

My new clothes arrived last night, so today I wore a cute outfit that included tights and my new black twill skirt.

Sadly, I did not realize until I was halfway to the bus stop that the twill skirt clings with great ardor to my black cotton tights. So all day my skirt would cling and then ride up my legs as I walked along; every little while I would stop and do a little dance so that my skirt would fall back down.

Pretty funny. I think I will go shopping for more half-slips this weekend.

Inspiration

Wrote a song last night titled "You Suck." Gee, I'm not sure what exactly inspired me, but it's a pretty good song, though I consider it too obscene to publish here. Animal lovers will be delighted to know that donkeys feature prominently in the lyrics.

Sometimes I Miss Gremlin

Pout

I feel sulky.

Money Tastes Good

Ok, so I put my money where my mouth is and ordered the beginnings of the new kinder, funkier, naturally-fibered me. Sierra Trading Post loves me now. And J Jill is kind enough to not charge my card until April 23. Plus I got glittery thigh high stockings just because I like them. Thank you, Karin, for your patience and eye for style!

oops

I feel kinda dumb but I was talking to my lovely friend Karin who asked me where in Orange County Bob lives...uh, he doesn't live in Orange County, he lives in San Diego County (and embarrassingly enough, I can't remember the name of his town but it's fairly close to San Diego.)

New Fashion Track

Ok, I can admit it now: the Spiegel thing didn't work. I want affordable, fashionable, well-fitting clothes that are of good quality, and Spiegel is missing the boat.

I think I need to edge back to more natural fibers, funky cool shoes, hand-knit hats, and thigh-high stockings (I found a great spot for them online at Sock Dreams.) Skirts will still be knee-length or just below the knee, and I think perhaps cardigans rather than blazers? Because I can never find blazers that fit right over my boobs.

Blogging Naked

Plugging Books, Books, Books

So Linda & I now have a book blog together!!!!!!!!!????!!!

Take a look, people; the link is on the right. The vast philosophical distance between Linda and I becomes immediately apparent! But this is a good thing because you can have the best of both worlds: meaningful and trashy.

Plus there is lots of sex.

Well, not really, but I thought it might make more people look at the blog. Actually, yes, there is a lot of sex. Just read between the lines.

P-con 2007, part II: HPM

The ex-archivist wants to know about the hot pagan man I met at P-con...we bumped into each other at the Saturday nite Tribal Rave Trance Dance (where I was totally groovin' even though the music wasn't really my first choice) We danced for a while & then met again the next evening, and had extreme salty soup at the Coffee Garden (neither of us was very hungry.)

The salt soothed my throat, which was good because by that time the tail end of my stupid cold had combined with long hours and lots of yelling at the registration desk to give me laryngitis, which I still have.

So I communicated via post-it notes for the whole meal. Now the interesting thing about this is that looking back I realize I now know a bunch about him, but he knows very little about me. So I am a mysterious lady. Unless of course he got all my backstory from someone else at the con.

His name is Bob. Really sweet, really sexy, really lives in San Diego County.

P-con 2007

Ahhh, P-con! Very tired now, though I got home hours ago & took a nap.

For those of you who don't know, Pantheacon is a pagan conference held every President's Day Weekend in San Jose. I work the registration desk each year.

Many wonderful and strange things occurred, though I am too tired to enumerate them now. I'll blog about all the juicy details tomorrow, people.

Here is a short list of interesting events that I could discuss: Magic non-Norse runes, Living Tarot, Trance Dance, Hot Pagan Man, Hanging with Mary, too many hours at the reg desk, my abominable never-ending cold that I pray to the gods I have not passed on, ribbon whores, a kinder, gentler Con-Ops, interminable ride with arguing couple, creepy guy in the hospitality suite.

So perhaps I will blog on all of these topics. Or only some of them and leave you hanging...

Pantyhose Strangulation

I spent the day being oppressed by my tights. What freakish shape do those manufacturers think queen size women are????!!!!!!!! Jeez.

Squinchy things around my stomach make me grouchy, I am now on a mission to find good sources for thigh-high opaque stockings. In cool colors.

I would like to take these tights and wrap them extremely snugly around the neck of the person responsible for inventing the damn things. And whoever it was who made them de rigeur for office dressing.

Valentroll

Just had an excellent Valentine's night out, Nancy and I went to Dinner at Sabuy Sabuy (Thai food) on College Ave, and then had a quiet drink at the Kona Club, where we sat next to this really nice guy, Robert, who was playing some bar game machine and having a drink while he waited for his girlfriend to get ready so he could go pick her up.

As it turns out, Robert is a tight end for the Buffalo Bills. But we didn't talk about that much since neither Nancy nor I know shit about football.

Sweet guy. He is going Home to New Orleans to spend Mardi Gras with his family and cook crabs (he loves to cook). Loves his girlfriend. Likes to buy houses.

Fried Rice?

Just wondering when it is that they stopped putting water chestnuts in fried rice, or any other Chinese food, for that matter. I like water chestnuts. Where are they?!?

Thank Sekhmet It's Friday

Well, the battles of the work week are nearly done, and I have hopes that I shall arise in the end, unscathed and covered in my enemies' blood.

Though I don't know if this goddess-of-war metaphor applies, since everyone at my new job has been so helpful. I keep having people come up to me and say, "How are you doing? Are you feeling really overwhelmed?"

Overwhelmed seems to be a key word at the Wright-at least five people have asked me this question in just those words. Maybe it's a psychology thing, talkin' about the feelings and whatnot. But I don't feel overwhelmed, and here's why:

In order to be overwhelmed, I would need to feel helpless in the face of my new job. And I don't feel helpless at all. Frustrated sometimes, but not helpless. And I have confidence that I will learn! (and never you mind the dark doubts late at night; those don't count except as manifestations of some understandable anxiety!)

Lunch for Troll

Hi! Just finished writing a thank-you letter to the prez of the Wright Institute because he took me to lunch to pick my brains about the tuition project thing I did (almost put that in hte present tense there, but I think it probably belongs in the past. I have never been more confused in my life.) I dropped a piece of lettuce on my shirt (read, "protruding bosom") and went for the rest of the day with a grease stain on my boob.

Today was my 2nd day working onsite at the Wright Institute. Crazy! I got dropped into the middle of a job where there is no one to train me because no one knows how to do the job except the guy who just left. Yikes.

But I think I'll have fun. I hope. Trying not to feel too anxious. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Gonna get it figured out. Yeah.

Pulpy Love

I was walking Rose one morning this past week when we came across a bunch of books stacked up on a wall for people to take. I guess they didn't want to bother walking them to the library to donate? I don't mind, because I scored on a half-dozen romances.

I used to gobble up romance novels when I was a teenager, until I started to wonder why the prerequisites for finding true love were so specific: 1. the girl must be a virgin (and the guy must not be a virgin). 2. If you live in England, or in any European country, you must be an aristocrat. 3. the guy must be a complete asshole. I suppose the third requirement is easy enough to fill, but what about the first 2?

If you think this made me stop reading romances, you are wrong. I just make crabby comments in the marginalia of my mind and skim through the extra-crappy writing until a) something happens that actually moves the plot forward or b) I hit a love scene. (Which is really why people read these, anyway. Never kid yourself, romances are porn. Or at least the best parts of them are.)

So here's what I read; I started to give mini reviews, but realized it's a waste of time, so I'll just list 'em:
A Perfect Bride by Samantha James
Breathless, by Kat Martin; and Heartless, by the same author
The Barefoot Princess by Christina Dodd (notably good love scenes)
A couple of others that were quintessentially forgettable.

Bittersweet Sing-Along on the Fence

Hi! I cannot make up my mind. Really want to do the Bittersweet Valentines Sad Song Sing-Along next weekend, but not sure if I'll have time. But I want to do it, maybe I should make time. What should I do? I suppose I will dither until it is too late.

Goat Day (This is a test)

Ais added me to her blog so I could post about books I'm reading, but this first post is not about a book. Actually, I'm just trying to figure out how to post, so hopefully the picture of Hilda and I that I tried to upload shows up. I went goat milking at Slide Ranch, and Hilda was the sweetest and most loving goat of all. I actually drank the milk right from her teet (is that how you spell it?) when miking her by squirting it straight into my mouth. Afterward, she kept nuzzling me and giving those cute goat eyes that I just couldn't resist. I had never milked a goat before, and never knew how loving and adorable goats are.

Knittin n Freakin

Linda and Nancy were just over, and we had the best time knitting (except for Nancy, who doesn't knit) and freaking to Kelly Peters Make It Happen, Tom Petty, and Sublime. First we would knit for a while, and then the uncontrollable impulse to dance would take over, and we would all leap up and start freaking. We did the straight freak, the cowboy freak, and I tried to remember the Prep but could only recall the brush-off.

Complete with a guest appearance by Jake, the household 3-year-old, who refused to breakdance, sadly. (He's quite good.)

Wonder what the neighbors thought.

In other news, Linda suggested that we blog together about books we are reading. What a great idea!!!!!! She doesn't want to moderate it though, and I am too lazy to run an additional blog, so I have invited her to post book stuff on this one; after all, she is an honorary hilltroll. So be looking forward to many fine book reviews, everyone!

Even More Hair

I woke up this morning and staggered bleary-eyed to the bathroom. Looked in the mirror and for some reason my hair was absolutely gorgeous! Artfully tousled, it hung sexily around my shoulders, framing the huge bags under my eyes perfectly.

Went back to bed.

I have laryngitis and cannot speak very well.

Into the Stratosphere

As of last Sunday, the infamous Larry is GONE. To Chicago. Yay!

Nancy emailed me an announcement with this terrific graphic that you see here.

She & I met for celebratory tikis Monday evening at the Kona Club & planned our futures as hot single women. Hmmnn. Well, we shall see what happens next.

Um, the drinks at the Kona Club are a bit strong (or maybe I am even more of a lightweight than I thought); I only had two, but felt fairly..what's the word? Buzzed, that's it. The Kiss of Death was delicious (& potent), and the Blood Orange tasted like liquified orange tic-tacs.

Nancy is a great companion for places like that, being far more open, friendly, and capable of striking up conversations with people than I; but being with her is like getting infected with a sort of disease of Gregariousness, and suddenly I was chatting with Nancy, the bartender, various folks who walked into the bar, and the plastic monkey and mermaid that came with my drinks.

Looking forward to a dazzling future, sans Larry and his Space Pickle!

Stuff in the Mail: So Many Exciting Things

Got my divorce papers in the mail this week & need to sign them and mail them back. Well, not the official divorce papers, but whatever stuff they send to start with. A summons to appear in court May 31. And the thing I have to sign is a Notice of Receipt. They are sitting on top of the dog kennel. I will mail it real soon.

I also rec'd an advance copy of Joshua James Keels' anthology, Such a Pretty Face, a collection of short stories for young adults about beauty and its various postmodern ramifications. I really enjoyed reading it, and here are a few comments which will hopefully illustrate why:

1. I am so stoked that my close personal friend JJ Keels is on the road to the fame and fortune he so richly deserves. OK, the anthology might not actually be defined by the general public as being "his," but to me it is. His story is titled "Ape," and you should all go buy the book if you want to find out more. Or borrow it from me, but you have to put down a hefty cash deposit and turn the pages with tongs because hello, it's a signed advance copy of a first edition.

2. Youth these days need to understand that beauty is not only skin-deep, it's in the media, too. I mean to say that the stories are complex, rooted in a variety of realities, and not subject to simplistic problem/solution formats with annoyingly obvious morals that make you want to shoot up a bunch of heroin now.

3. Variety of authors and styles, all of them interesting & well-written, not a dud in the bunch.

4. BTW, I recently discovered that a chapbook that Shua wrote and I helped illustrate way back in December of 1990 is ensconced in the Cal Poly library. Don't believe me? It is called My fear of food and other delicacies.

Other things I am reading right now:

The Fifth Elephant, by Terry Pratchett who is very funny and has a lot of t's in his last name.

I Like You, by Amy Sedaris-a full color book on hospitality and party-throwing for people under the influence. I am laughing like a water buffalo the whole time I read. I keep having to put it down for fear of permanent hysteria.

I just finished Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon, which I thought I had already read, and I picked it up for a friend at the Salvation Army, and then I realized that I had never read it, or if I did I was drunk because I have no memory of anything from that novel. Which is like having a new lease on life, as I adore her books and thought I had read everything in print except for the romances from her early writing days, re-published now that she is famous.

Important Musicians of the Latter 20th century

Just wanted to let people know the importance of Billy Squier. Bobaloo thinks so too.

Thursday Knitting Nite

Tonight was the knitting circle at my place but since it was just Linda & I this week, it was really more of a line than a circle...

I discovered that knitting complex lace patterns while keeping up a conversation is not possible for me. So I put down the lace scarf project (see pic in my earlier entry about UFO's)& began a swatch for a new hat, which I will give to myself. (It seems as if most of my best projects get given away to other people. But no more! I will start giving them to me, instead.)

My "e" button on my keyboard is starting to give out; I kep writing things like "wek," "kep," and "feding."

More Hair

I spent 45 minutes blow-drying my hair this morning. It looked nice, but my head got very very hot. Contemplating baldness...or perhaps a hat.

BTW it looked nice, but still frizzy.

Troll Hair

Spent another day today wondering why my hair doesn't look like Nicole Kidman's. I mean, I know she probably has 5 hairstylists following her around all the time, but I should think that 1 troll lady could do the work of a half-dozen hairstylists, no problem.

Jen says I am obsessing over my hair and no one notices the frizz, but the point is that I notice it. It's frizzy! It goes every which way! It snaggles and tangles and gets stuck under my collar and I don't notice until much later! And it seems sometimes as if everyone in the world has more control over their hair than I do. Plus the greying thing, which I can't bring myself to do anything about since I know I could never commit to paying the big bucks to get it dyed every 6 weeks.

All I want is for my hair to look like a Pantene ad, dammit!

What's a troll to do?

Night on the Townish

Just got back to the Troll Hole after going to the Epic Arts Tea House to see Loretta Lynch for the first time...Jen has been lauding them for ages and at last I got a chance to see what all the fuss was about.

Loretta Lynch is mixed acoustic/electric country type music with an urban, East Bay, feminist slant. 3 women and 1 guy. The three women sing vocals with harmonizing parts, and they all have gorgeous voices that are distinctly different from each other and yet blend marvelously. Plus they play guitar, bass, mandolin, washboard, and switch out their instruments between songs, depending on what they are playing. I loved the playlist, which included "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowgirls," an extremely sad version of "Bad Things Happen" (I was nearly in tears) and this amazing, amazing song called "Santa Muerte" which just knocked my socks off.

Also playing was Hollertown, a two-person band, led by a woman with an absolutely incredible voice, plus she played guitar and mandolin, and the other band member played electric guitar and banjo. (I wish he played banjo for more than one song!) I signed up on their email list and couldn't help but recognize the email address of the person who had signed up before me, though she wasn't at the show tonight. You may be able to guess who this was if I give you a hint or two: she had "goo" in her address, and her first name starts with an L.

Troll Valentine

I am evolving an idea for Valentine's Day...since at this point I doubt I'll have a date, perhaps I'll host a get-together:

Bittersweet Valentines Love Song Sing-Along

With sad/bitter/angry/funny love songs for people to sing to! Nancy has already said she'll help out by playing a 2nd ukulele, and maybe others could bring along songs to share & acoustic intruments to play...

Tentative Playlist:

Love Hurts
Love Stinks
I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry
Tainted Love
Your Cheatin' Heart
Plasir D'Amour
Wild World
Once More
You've Really Got a Hold on Me

I'd love to hear from anyone who has some good songs to suggest. I'm not planning this as a singles-only, couples excluded kind of thing...but since most couples are obligated to have a romantic dining experience on Valentine's, it might be all singles by default.

Don't Tell Anyone

I like to read through my old blog entries & laugh at my own jokes.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Cold Medication

Went to the drugstore today for cough medicine, and as it turns out I got a hair straightener because they have these new ones with ceramic plates that aren't supposed to thrash hair and they cost a zillion bucks for a good one but I said fuggit & got one on sale at Long's Drugs: $19.99 after rebate. Plus it comes with these really cool warning labels & safety instructions. I think my favorite is #6: Never use while sleeping.

Being sick is really boring, and I am about ready to freak out.

Yesterday I went to Tumble & Tea with Joss, Gavan, all their kids, and Nancy. (Tumble & Tea is this cafe with a big, fun play area for little kids so parents can lounge about while their children do stuff.) I had a good time despite the fact that an earlier coughing fit had sent my back into muscular spasms so that whenever I bent over or sat down or stood up I would say things like "Guuhhruughh! Jesus f*ing Christ!"

There was a cute guy working the counter & I mentioned to Gavan that I thought so & THEN she took things into her own hands & wandered off, found him, told him that one of her friends thought he was cute-& when he said he was flattered but already had a girlfriend, she identified me as the woman in the fuzzy purple hat. ?!? He obligingly said that he thought I was cute also, and gave Gavan his card to pass on because he was in a band & maybe I could come and watch a show sometime at Tumble & Tea (I'm guessing this is at night, without kids?) I'm not sure what that was supposed to mean, but here are some possible expansions: 1. Here's my card, I'm with a girlfriend but maybe I'm interested anyway since I'm a low-down, two-timing so-and-so. 2. I'm taken but one of my bandmates is hard up. 3. I'm a nice guy and also I am trying to drum up a bigger audience & promote my band. 4. This is someone else's card & I'm trying to get rid of you.

In all honesty, I think #3 is the most likely possiblity, because he seemed like a nice guy. Note to self: never mention cute guys to Gavan unless I am ready to be outed. So for example, not when I am sick with a cold and dressed like a slob. . . it's nice to be 38, because if I was 17 I would probably be permanently mortified. But it was very sweet of Gavan to try to help out.

When Will Summer Return???

It's not the season right now (and some of you may have read this years ago on my cobwebsite), but I thought this helpful list of uses for an overabundance of zucchini might remind everyone of warmer times, full of vegetables...

So now, here's what you've been waiting for! 101 things to do with zucchini:

Hollow one out, carve it into an ark, sit in it, and wait for the next flood. Wear it as an interesting hat. Plant 100 seeds in a 10 foot plot and pretend you are Poison Ivy, capable of commanding plants to grow with uncontrollable rapidity. Biodegradable butt plug. Baseball bat for use against softball teams with noodle-armed pitchers. Shoes. For men, put in pants to enhance basket. For women, put in bra to get a lot of weird looks.

Zucchini bread. Zucchini jam. Zucchini cake. Zucchini salad. Zucchini soup. Zucchini, zucchini, zucchini. Offer as a sacrifice to the Gods in hopes of gettting more tomatoes and less zucchini next year. Wield in clublike manner to discourage nighttime raids by ravenous raccoons and amorous opossums. Scare cats. Deploy as targets for knife-throwing practice. Drop from high buildings as part of a scientific study of spattered pulp. Footrest. Bolster. You can carve one into a stool or night table if you let it get big enough. Use to beat the crap out of next year's zuke plants before they have a chance to bear fruit. Use as rollers to re-grade your road. Dry out for firewood. Build a log cabin.

Zucchini cupcakes. Zucchini pudding. Baked zucchini. Fried zucchini. Boiled zucchini. Rotisserie zucchini. Zucchini casserole. Zucchini and salmon roe profiteroles. Zucchini and lark's tongue in aspic. Glue your fingers together with oozing zuke sap, then wave your hands around like flippers. Put a zucchini on adjacent bus seat so no one sits next to you; and should someone try anyway, engage in lively conversation with your zucchini until he goes away. Dress it in a swaddling cloth, pretend it's your baby, and look straight through anyone who dares to ask why you are nursing a large green vegetable. Put wheels on one and ride it around town singing until you form an impromptu parade.

Space-Filler: UFOs, Begone!

I feel a need to make another entry just so that picture of OJ isn't right up at the top anymore. Yuck.

So let's talk about UFOs. Knitting UFOs, not spaceman vehicles...you know, UnFinished Objects. As in, "I have ten UFOs sitting in my knitting basket, and I haven't even looked at them for months." But actually there are only 6 in there, each with its own dull little yarn of how I lost interest or lost the materials/ time/ interest/ pattern.

I won't tell tales because I have a better plan: I am going to finish these projects no matter what it takes. Though some of the scarves may end up a little short. I have decided to start with the guitar strap (ukulele strap, really) since it's nearly done, anyhow. If you're wondering, the strap is the skinny, twisted one that looks like a pink & purple worm. After that, I think I'll finish the Frankensweater (and I'm hoping the Thursday night crew will help me figure out what to do with the neckline). And then, who knows?

In other news, I have the most abominable cold EVER. Hack, hack, sneeze, wheeze, and my brain has been non-functional ever since Friday morning, when my sinuses took over & started running the show. Pity me. Jossie has it, too, as does Nancy. And many other people. apparently.

So F&*%ing Crazy

(Note: I had his pic up here but took it off because his smiling face made me feel sick.)
Can I just mention for a moment here what a freaking psychopath OJ Simpson is? I know this is a little bit post-the-big-news-blitz about his extra extra creepy book "How I Woulda Killed Her if I Did but I Didn't, Really," but it's in the news again because Newsweek is going to publish excerpts. Just in case anyone thought Newsweek was news & not trash...

Now they know better.

Really, really repugnant. Just thought I'd share.

Creep. There are no words.

This year will be . . . different

Yesterday I held an open house for New Year's Day & invited everyone over for cake and hot chocolate. How lovely to hang out and your friends all come over for a visit on the same day; much more relaxing than throwing a party.

Rose did really really well with the guests and only barked and growled a few times; overall I think she enjoyed the company. She got to put her slimy red rubber ball on lots of people.

Heather & Mary came over, and so did JoAnna & Devin, my mother, Jake (Jake came over a lot; I suppose it's part of being 3 and living next door. And wanting more sweets.), Jossie, Nancy, Gavan, Jason (for about 5 seconds while he wolfed down a piece of cake), Jen, Tricia, Linda (but not Bernie because alas, he was ill), Niki & Renata, and, and...I forget who else, but it was really nice seeing everyone.

The cake was All-Occasion Downy Yellow Butter Cake and the frosting Apricot Buttercream, and it tasted so wonderful that I'm afraid to use adjectives lest someone think I am writing porn.

It was also my birthday but I didn't mention that part to people when I invited them. But they figured it out anyway. It's not as if I don't want to get older or anything, I don't mind that at all, and in a lot of ways I welcome and look forward to maturing more and more. I don't know why I didn't tell people. I guess the best oversimplification would be to say that I didn't want it to be a party about me, but more a party about everybody; just hanging out and yakking about whatever & enjoying each other's company.

Plus when you say it's a birthday party, a lot of people feel obligated to bring gifts and I didn't want that vibe. Oh, yeah, speaking of vibe, my mom got me a new vaccuum cleaner!! (it's called the "Vibe," I'm not kidding, I just about laughed myself silly. Works great and at long last my rug is really clean.