Tuesday, January 10, 2006
New Year's Resolution
Okay, okay. I'm going to try this again. I have made several earnest attempts at blogging but my procrastination generally gets the better of me, thus resulting in a blog that has heretofore only been updated semi-annually. But like so many others I have been swept up in the January rush to declare New Year's resolutions. Although I know this wave of best intentions often blows past as quickly as a refreshing breeze on an August day, I'm determined to not become a statistic. I will do this! I can blog just like practically every other person on this planet. I think I can! I think I can! Wish me luck...
Monday, August 22, 2005
Sunday, gluttony Sunday.
On Sunday, P (BungalowBoy) and I went to the monthly Sunday dinner we have with our friends, this time hosted by our friend Leona. This is something that P and I started after traveling to Italy last year and talking about how Italians congregate at their mother's (or grandmother's) house on Sundays, spending the entire day with their family, lounging and talking and eating. We decided to propose this to our friends, and to our surprise they jumped on board immediately. So now we trade off hosting duties, and once a month we gather around 2 pm and basically spend the next eight or so hours talking and eating. And eating. And then there's dessert. At first P and I were worried about how everyone would pass the time. Movies? Games? We always had these things on hand but have yet to break them out.
I have been constantly amazed at our ability to find new things to talk about, even if we have seen each other between dinners (as we often do). For instance, we know way too much about classic TV and this topic sustains us for hours. Upside: if you have been wracking your brain trying to remember the name of that show that aired for, like, three minutes in 1982 and starred a guy with a beard, there is a darn good chance someone will know and save you hours of sleepless tossing and turning.
We can also get on the strangest tangents. This past Sunday we talked about drinking -- whether we tried wine growing up (most of us had), what drink we got so drunk on that we can't drink any more of it (tequila for most) -- and I find this particularly amusing since this group is pretty tame. We have been known to put away several bottles of wine at one of these dinners between the 8-12 of us, but none of us are going on wild benders (well, that I know of). Good thing, too. Alcohol would no doubt diminish our capacity to recall minute details of classic television shows and we can't have that.
Overall I think the best thing about these dinners is that they create a sense of family (which is probably especially important to the east coast transplants in our group who left their families behind) and remind me on a monthly basis what good friends I have. And then there's the food.
I have been constantly amazed at our ability to find new things to talk about, even if we have seen each other between dinners (as we often do). For instance, we know way too much about classic TV and this topic sustains us for hours. Upside: if you have been wracking your brain trying to remember the name of that show that aired for, like, three minutes in 1982 and starred a guy with a beard, there is a darn good chance someone will know and save you hours of sleepless tossing and turning.
We can also get on the strangest tangents. This past Sunday we talked about drinking -- whether we tried wine growing up (most of us had), what drink we got so drunk on that we can't drink any more of it (tequila for most) -- and I find this particularly amusing since this group is pretty tame. We have been known to put away several bottles of wine at one of these dinners between the 8-12 of us, but none of us are going on wild benders (well, that I know of). Good thing, too. Alcohol would no doubt diminish our capacity to recall minute details of classic television shows and we can't have that.
Overall I think the best thing about these dinners is that they create a sense of family (which is probably especially important to the east coast transplants in our group who left their families behind) and remind me on a monthly basis what good friends I have. And then there's the food.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
And so it begins.
Well, I have finally decided to foray into the blogosphere. I was waiting to see if this was a fad that would blow over, but now that every Tom, Dick, Harry, gardener and minimum wage waiter has a blog to detail every thrilling, breathtaking, mundane detail of their lives, I figure I should add my two cents' worth.
I am writing this from my front porch during a yard sale being held by my friend Moriah. As a former psychology major and observer of human behavior in general, I love yard sales. You get to meet the neighbors, sell your stuff, and marvel at the crap that people will pay good hard earned money for. The biggest surprise? Shoes. Yard salers love 'em. I have no idea why anyone would want to buy shoes that have already had someone else's sweaty feet in them (and had the life and sheen worn right out of them) but these things go like hotcakes. Go figure.
My dog Milo (BungalowDog) is having the best time out of all of us. Although I have only had him for a year and he's five (and therefore lived a life before he came to me) I get the feeling that this is his first yard sale. Lots to sniff, new people who could potentially pet him, and of course, the possibility that someone might drop one of Moriah's homemade banana nut muffins. Dog heaven.
I am writing this from my front porch during a yard sale being held by my friend Moriah. As a former psychology major and observer of human behavior in general, I love yard sales. You get to meet the neighbors, sell your stuff, and marvel at the crap that people will pay good hard earned money for. The biggest surprise? Shoes. Yard salers love 'em. I have no idea why anyone would want to buy shoes that have already had someone else's sweaty feet in them (and had the life and sheen worn right out of them) but these things go like hotcakes. Go figure.
My dog Milo (BungalowDog) is having the best time out of all of us. Although I have only had him for a year and he's five (and therefore lived a life before he came to me) I get the feeling that this is his first yard sale. Lots to sniff, new people who could potentially pet him, and of course, the possibility that someone might drop one of Moriah's homemade banana nut muffins. Dog heaven.
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