Mouse Capades

We saw Disney On Ice tonight, and I may or may not have fangirled when Belle and the prince came out at the end.

Some things just never change, y'all.

Getting crafty

There are some random evenings where I find myself drawn to wandering over to Michaels in search of something crafty to do. I seriously love arts and crafts, and okay, maybe that makes me slightly more mature than a kindergartner, but I'd like to think I've gotten farther beyond the use of Popsicle sticks.

Like tonight, for example. I bought two blank canvases (did you know that you can get two 16"x20" canvases for under ten bucks total? I was impressed), a bottle of decoupage stuff, a sponge brush, and some card stock.

And so, thanks to the sacrificed pages of a thrift store book, I've got myself a project. Once the decoupage dries, I'll trace some bird-on-a-branch silhouettes onto card stock and decoupage them over it.

Pictures of the final project will follow, but this is already looking awesome, y'all.

Ain't it a fine life

Thanks to the currently in-progress renovation going on in my company's office building, I currently enjoy the privilege of trying my hand at telecommuting.

That's right. This whole week, yours truly has been working from home. Yours truly may enjoy this luxury until the end of April, if she's lucky.

And after doing this for a few days, I've gotta say that working from home is truly a blessing and a curse. The blessing, most slap-you-in-the-face obviously, is that you're at home. You get to sleep in. You roll up to your workplace in your jammies and eat a bowl of cereal while checking your morning jammies. You get to enjoy all the creature comforts of home. You get to spend time with your husband, who works evenings and now can spend time with you in the morning. You have secretaries, and they are two felines. You gain the extra hour-plus that you lose each day from commuting. And, oh, what the heck: you even feel more productive. Yes, I do get more work done when telecommuting, both domestic and professional. Hot diggity dog.

The curse of it all is, well, that this is only a temporary arrangement. Well, that and I have to walk into the kitchen to charge my laptop because my outlets in the living room are occupados. Seriously, though, that's it.

But don't take it from me. The Oatmeal always explains things better than I can.

Here it is

Because I didn't do it on Friday like I usually do, now is a terrific time for a Hump Day moment of zen.

I am beyond thrilled that I get to see this in May. That video up there? A reflection of over a decade of watching one of Disney's most under-appreciated movies, thinking it was one of the most Broadway-ready musicals out there, bonding with awesome girls over our love for the film, and seeing it really, truly happen on the Great White Way. Finally.

Is it bedtime yet?

Is there something fundamentally wrong with me if I'm ready for bed by 7:30pm? The only reason I'm up is because, well, it's socially unacceptable to be in bed by 7:30pm (unless you're an infant or a geriatric).

So here I am, watching stand-up specials on Netflix, wrapped in an afghan, and ready for it to be at least 9:30. That's a bit more permissible, right? (The bedtime, not the afghan and watching Jim Gaffigan talk about Hot Pockets.)

May the odds be ever in your favor

After the cloud of opening-weekend dust had settled down, I finally saw The Hunger Games today.

I couldn't have picked a better time to see it if I'd tried: it was a Monday afternoon at 4:30. Most of the working adult force were still holed up in an office somewhere, most kids had come home from school and were knee-deep in homework. The theater was still in one of the huge midnight-showing kind of rooms, and there were probably a grand total of five people in the theater. Just the way I like it.

The movie? Augh, the movie. I may be echoing the sentiment of the bajillions of people that have already seen it before me, but it was everything I'd hoped: faithful to the outstanding story, a beautiful specimen of a film that was poignant, provoking, and a wonderful illustration of the Suzanne Collins book. The gilded glitz of the Capital was all too awesomely portrayed. Loved. It.

I cried during the movie, and I swear to you, the last real time I'd cried in a movie theater was one of the six times I'd seen Titanic. It was too beautifully touching for me not to, you guys.

Not that I'm too keen on ranking things with a star system, but The Hunger Games is absolutely a five-out-of-five. Maybe six-out-of-five.

PS: I'm such a fan of the fact that this was shot only a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from me along the Appalachian Mountains. Holla.

Monday?

Despite the impending doom that is a 7:30am dentist appointment tomorrow morning, I get the luxury of working from home.

So, y'know, there's that.

It might even make me a better writer or, at the least, make me a composer of better blog entries. Let's hoe it's at least the latter, for your sake.

I play a lot of cards. Obviously.

That Thing You Do! will always, always, always be among my favorite movies. It's got a little bit of all the best things in a movie: vintage atmosphere, Tom Hanks, Disneyland, snappy music, Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters, Del Paxton, and a wonderful blend of witticisms.

They don't make 'em like they did in 1996. 

MAH LISA IS HERE

And life is pretty awesome. Weekend plans: Eat junk, watch movies, and love life.

They can't stop us from singing.

Tomorrow I get a long-overdue visit from one of the most vibrant, amazing people I know.

I'm just one workday away from an awesome weekend with Lisa - the Tracy Turnblad to my Penny Pingleton. It's going to be more than a little bit amazing.

'Bout to get real

Heard this song today, and it struck a chord - but it's no pun intended ('cause, see, it's a song, and there are chords in the music and... that's enough from me).


Jesus, friend of sinners, the one who's writing in the sand
Made the righteous turn away and the stones fall from their hands
Help us to remember we are all the least of these
Let the memory of Your mercy bring Your people to their knees
Nobody knows what we're for, only what we're against, when we judge the wounded
What if we put down our signs, crossed over the lines, and loved like You did?

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners
Open our eyes to world at the end of our pointing fingers
Let our hearts be led by mercy
Help us reach with open hearts and open doors
Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours


Some folks might immediately glaze over dismissively at seeing "Jesus" in the lyrics, but really, it's more of a social anthem to those who claim to follow Christ.


Would he really be that proud of what his church has become? Would he want his followers to be categorized by the rest of the world as a closed-minded, hateful people?


Love, anyone?

Whoa, we're dealing with a freak here

So I've spent the better part of my evening giving this a look:

For those who might be unaware, there's a lot of interesting lore about the Shroud of Turin. I'll be the first to say it: It doesn't really shake my faith one way or the other if it's legit or not, but seriously, it's way too fascinating. Most definitely worthy of a few views on YewTewb.

Drawing a blank

Welcome to one of those entries where I'm solely writing something because of my prior commitment to submit one blog entry per day. It's the web-based equivalent of when your friend calls you and goes, "So. What do you want to talk about?"

And, y'know, just as awkward, if we're to be perfectly honest with ourselves here.

Ohana

Had an amazing weekend with my mom, sister, Jameson, and my hubby. Wish it didn't have to end so soon.

Monday tomorrow. Pleh. Upside: it's the last Monday I'll be commuting to work for a while - woohoo!

Caturday

My mom, sister, sister's boyfriend, and husband all showed up to get one heck of a tour from yours truly at the Smith Family Farm today, followed by noms afterward at Mary Mac's and a stroll at Piedmont Park.

Top it off with a viewing of The Emperor's New Groove, and you have a danged sweet Saturday. Hot dog.

Here it is

Your (rather creepy) Friday moment of zen.

Suresday

Today wrapped up a crazy-go-nuts meeting series at work this week. Yes, I've got to go to work tomorrow, but it'll be miles more relaxed.

Oh, and it'll be Friday. This calls for some schtick:

Untapped

So there I was, getting myself all psyched up to donate blood. I drank about 6 bottles of water. I ate plenty to keep my blood sugar up. I even pinched myself a little to see if I could hack the teensy amount of pain that resulted from getting one's veins tapped.

I drove over to the Bloodmobile's location, ascended the stairs, marveled at how cute and compact the medical-facility-on-wheels was, and even read the important leaflet.

I went into a screening room (more appropriately a screening "closet") and sat with a nurse, who pricked my finger, declared me not-anemic, and checked my pulse and blood pressure. You'll be delighted to know I was declared quite normal indeed.

But then, as she looked at my arm, she discovered a patch of eczema that was so faint that even I didn't notice it was there. For whatever reason, this bit of eczema (because it's in the area of my arm to be swabbed for a donation) would prevent me from donating. Not because it would taint the blood supply, but because such blood work in such an irritated spot would "cause me problems."

Thus, I was rejected by the American Red Cross, or at least "deferred" until my skin clears up. Not going to lie; my feelings are a bit hurt.

Cuh-razy Glue

Things I learned from tonight's Skype sesh:

1. David's cute and wins the girls' approval.
2. We got to see Jupiter and Venus right outside our balcony window. Gorgeous.
3. Those girls make me smile and giggle in so many ways.
4. It's going to take approximately 32 years before this Crazy Glue residue vacates my fingertips.
5. Korean and Japanese girls (and also Rachel) get chocolate today.
6. Somewhere in Sylmar, there's a helicopter that Jess can't hear.
7. Becky is good at secondhand embarrassment.

Oh, and this.

One Whole Year

Even though yesterday technically marked 365 days of wedded bliss to my amazing, handsome husband, it was a beautiful March 12, 2011 that was our wedding day.

Words can't express how overjoyed I am to be Mrs. David Bosma. I can't ever truly thank him adequately for the joy he brings me, the laughter, and yes, the swoons.

Though my words often fail me, I figured it couldn't hurt to try. For our anniversary, I gifted him with a poster-sized card that listed 365 individual things I loved most about him. It almost included zero repeats. Almost. Be fair - I was composing much of it past 10:00pm and, as you may know, it's a miracle I can even maintain basic motor skills past 10:00pm.

365 Days

Didn't really realize this until recently, but since we've had Leap Day, I have actually been married to David for 365 days, as of today. Woohoo!

Yes, tomorrow is our true wedding anniversary, but tomorrow is a Monday. And, true to Monday's form, it's bound to be wretched, vocationally speaking, for both of us. We've had an absolutely fantastic time on our mini-getaway in Pine Mountain this weekend - including an excursion to FDR's "Little White House" earlier today - and quite honestly, I don't want it to end. It feels so good to be just us, to be together, without obligations, responsibilities, or anything of the like.

We also ate way too much. I swear, I'm eating nothing until May. Nothing.

Almost-iversary

For the weekend before our very first wedding anniversary, David surprised me with an overnight getaway to Calloway Gardens.

Today, we wandered the gorgeous gardens and ventured toward Warm Springs, GA, where we had a beautiful almost-iversary dinner at the Bulloch House (a beautiful Victorian mansion-turned-restaurant). I'd like to say that I took pretty awesome pictures with my iPhone.

Pictures that are almost as wonderful as the real ones my fantastic-husband-of-almost-one-year took with his big-kid camera.

No, really. Look at that handsome face.

So

I made David the best present ever tonight.

Blood Sucking

There's an upcoming bloodmobile visit at my office next week, and we kept getting mass emails about how we ought to sign up and donate. "No sweat," I'd said to myself. "Folks will step up."

Then, after yet another reminder email to sign up, I replied with something like, "Let me know if you guys get desperate and I'll see about taking a quick break to donate."

"Yeeeeah. We're pretty desperate right now."

Those were the circumstances leading up to my decision to donate blood next week. This is both exciting, fulfilling, and scary. Not sure how I'm going to fare whilst getting tapped for crimson life fluids.

Then again, there will be cookies. Am I allowed to eat one of those if I'm not supposed to for Lent?

It bears repeating

Look, I know it's moderately cheating since I posted this to my Facebook earlier today, but I think it's worth a re-mention (and perhaps some elaboration):

"If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first."(John 15:18 NIV) 

News flash: This is NOT a free pass to make the world hate us, guys.

No, really. Could it be that maybe, just maybe, the stereotypical view of Christianity more closely mimics the Pharisees and Sadducees (that Jesus wanted shaken out of their complacency and legalism) than it resembles the radical, sacrificial love embodied in Christ?

More succinctly, are we as Christians "hated" for the right reasons? Are we classified under "hate" more than "love"? Would Jesus want it to be that way?

Food for thought. Discuss, if you're so inclined.

Scientific knowledge

One would think that getting one's hair did, enjoying a relaxing and quiet evening, and a hot bowl of matzo ball soup would make any and all troubles float away.

Alas, such is not the case. I'm still tired, still dreading the next seven days at work, and still feeling socially out of place. Awkward, even.

PS: The matzo ball soup did help. A little.

At least I need those glasses.

There's a small, hopeful little part of me that thinks I'm a few hair extensions, a snazzy wardrobe, and a pair of awesome hipster glasses away from being Zooey Deschanel a la New Girl.

Because, I mean, I'm quirky, right? And cute? And adorable as all get-out?

Just me? All righty then.

Know what's crazier than American reality TV?

Latin American reality TV.

Close second: Japanese reality TV.

Bar-Ba-Loot Suits

Tonight, I went to see what all the fuss with The Lorax was about.

I'm not one to rank a film on a stars system, so I'll just break down the best and worst of it for you fine folks.

The Pros:

• On a personal note, I saw it with my pal Becky. It's always friendlier with two.
• Visuals were outstanding: loved the colors, textures, and the expansion of that world created by Dr. Seuss.
• Best parts were definitely the ones that were the most Seussian - that funky, stylized, characteristic style.
• I kind of liked the humanization of the Once-ler (mostly because the lack of humanization in the book kind of creeped me out. HE COULD BE ANYONE.)
• The message is still there. I know a lot of folks that have seen the movie were a little up in arms about it, but I still grasped the notion to embrace nature.
• The Bar-ba-loots, Swanny Swans, and Humming Fish were all too cute.
• Danny DeVito makes a divine Lorax.
• Betty White. Obvs.

The Cons:

• The plot got tremendously convoluted with the advent of a new "villain." It was slightly necessary to include that little extension, but it didn't seem to make proper sense.
• Musical numbers were a little too hyper-processed to be all that catchy.
• The film dragged in many places and moved far too quickly in others.
• The 3D was a little overblown (and, on a side note, gave me a wretched headache).
• Why in Heaven's name do you cast Taylor Swift in a musical animated film and not let her sing?

Overall, it was cute, and a warm, fuzzy rendition of the classic Seuss parable of good environmental stewardship, but it felt gimmicky in places and didn't have the same heart that the original book (and even the cartoon had).

Did anyone else see it? What'd you folks think?

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen: In which Will Smith proves that he was the originator of the Dougie.

Ay papi

I wish I could tell you that David and I haven't been watching telenovelas for much of tonight. I wish I could tell you that I'm not picking up most of the dialogue thanks to 5+ years of clases de español. I wish I could tell you that we changed the channel after absorbing the wretched over-acting.

I fear I cannot tell you any of the above things, but I can tell you this:

Telenovelas are kind of the greatest.