Category Archives: true life 2004

everything old is…even older again. wait…

Recently I saw footage of the Gulf War Protests in Lafayette Park. No, not this Gulf War, the the first one. Deja vu all over again, as the joke goes.

I’m feeling kind of shallow today, so rather than pose tough questions about our oil-crazed foreign policy initiatives, I’m instead going to tell you what I’m really thinking as I watch our young earnest selves on this tape.

Why does Ian MacKaye look practically the same to me on both tapes when I look so much older in the tapes from the recent protests?

Gotta be the lighting.

Or maybe it’s just that I look very, very young on the ’91 tapes, not that I look old on the recent tapes. Sure. I’ll buy that for a dollar.

On a whim, I searched online for pictures from the 1991 protests and to my surprise found actual video (not the same video I saw, but that’s not the point). Check out Alan’s excellent demand media site to see that footage and more.

hopeless romantics

Today is our 13th anniversary. Thirteen years. 13. THIRTEEN. That’s a lot. That’s 91 in dog-years.

I gave him a physics lecture for his class tonight, he made me coffee. We’re hopeless romantics.

In other news, my mom is coming to “take care of me.”

Husband assures me she doesn’t mean in the Sopranos sense of the phrase, but it still makes me nervous. He insists she’s just going to open mail and run errands and keep me company. And, I think it goes without saying, slowly eat my sanity with a spoon.
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what are these women complaining about?

Stay-at-home-moms seem to complain endlessly about how little respect they get in society. I’m not sure that’s true. Not in my experience, at least. When I tell people I’m a stay-at-home-mom they think it’s really cool. Well, when they ask how many kids I have and I tell them I don’t have any, they seem to be kind of weirded out. Maybe the stay-at-home-moms are right, after all.

"Pugs were bred as Tibetan Temple dogs, you need at least one," He said.

NASCAR star Jeremy Mayfield and his wife, Shana, stopped by our house the other night. They had the cutest little pug puppy with them, and they wanted us to think about adopting him.

The puppy was all black. They chose that one for us because Jeremy was concerned about the amount they shed and the texture of their hair – it apparently finds a way to stick to everything and sort of weave itself in – and he knew we wear a lot of black so this seemed like a good choice to him. It seemed like a good choice to me, too. He was the sweetest puppy and I fell in love.

Then Jeremy told me a lot about pugs and the great work of the Pug Rescue of North Carolina. Then we all had tea. It was truly one of the strangest dreams I’ve had in a long, long time.

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BatNews

In other bat-related news, Batgrl decided that it wasn’t fair for only one of us to have a mushy brain, so she got into the act, too. I could have told her the headaches sucked, but she had to learn the hard way. Go give her some love now, won’t you? She’s home and resting and has Jon Sullivan, Cranky Bastard and her parents to care for her. And Beckett the cat, of course, who I refuse to believe has a sippy straw stuck in his shoulder.