They must be Italian glass shards

A little bit of background information is necessary here. Firstly, the Grimmlet loves the movie The Christmas Story. Absolutely loves it. She has loved it for years and, in fact, we are supposed to be going to see it in play form this coming weekend. Hope it doesn't suck. Secondarily, I recently ordered some wine glasses for a wedding present that ended up being delivered to my house. Which is where the Grimmlet found them...

Grimmlet: Dad, there's a box outside.
Me: OK. Bring it inside, please.
[Some struggle ensues. Eventually the box is manhandled inside.]
Grimmlet: Fra-Frag...Fra-jee-lay! Just like in the Christmas Story.
[I turn and look at her quizically.]
Grimmlet: It means fragile, dad.

Yays!

So the Grimmlet is back with me and my quote standards are low. But this is funny to me. It all begins with some old pre-K art projects that she found.

Grimmlet: Look! Here's a snowman! And here's a gingerbread man! And look at all the food I used!

She holds up a sheet of construction paper with a large seven drawn on in marker. Inside the borders are numerous pieces of dry pasta.

Me: Mmmm. Looks delicious.

(Mind this is immediately after lunch.)

Grimmlet: [crunch]
Me:...
Grimmlet: [crunch] [crunch-crunch]
Me:...
Grimmlet: [crunch]
Me: What are you eating?
Grimmlet: Food. Pasta from my art project.
Me: Gah! That's several years old! Gross! Go spit it out!

Please Do Not Hump

A sentiment that I do not hold. Except as it relates to dogs and my leg. Otherwise it is all good.

Anyhow, as is immediately apparent from the title of this post, I went for a train ride the other day. For the Thanksgiving day, specifically. Which is to say that I left on the day before Thanksgiving but arrived at my destination very early on Thanksgiving day.

It was quite chilly when I got off of the train and I immediately realized that I had forgotten my hat. Now, forgetting one's hat in Florida is rarely a problem. Even in February. But it was quite a bit cooler in SC than I am now accustomed to experiencing. My head did not appreciate the lack of hat (and hair.) This is why I cannot ever live north of the 30th parallel. I don't get along so well with cold.

Now I have been without the Grimmlet for almost 2 weeks. This sucks for obvious reasons, but it also means that I have not had any new opportunities to gather conversation scraps to feed the blog monster. So I will make some up about the train ride:

Me: Are you enjoying the train ride?
Grimmlet: [snore]
Me: Oh, right. It is awfully late.

Me: Do you mind if I continue playing Pokemon without your input?
Grimmlet: [snore]
Me: Oh, right. It is awfully late.

And on the return trip...

Me: [Giggling]
Grimmlet: Why are you shaking? I'm trying to sleep.
Me: That train has a sign that says "Please Do Not"...You know what? Go to sleep. It's very early.

The Kindergardner Cop

I decided to post this conversation almost immediately after it happened. Then I put it off. Then I couldn't remember the hilarious thing the Grimmlet said. Then I forgot about the affair altogether. I relay all of this information as I cannot remember the details of the events that led to this conversation. Sorry.

Grimmlet [proudly] : Look how fat my tummy is! [Lifts shirt for better appreciation of her fat tummy.
Me: Wow. [Rubbing her buddha belly.] It's quite firm. Are you sure it isn't a tumor?
Grimmlet: [Eying her tummy a little suspiciously.] Hmm.
Me: Now you say, 'It's naht ah toomah!'
Grimmlet: It's not a tumor?
Me: Right.
Grimmlet: It's naht ah toomah!
Me: [Cracking up.]

Holy Freakin' Cow

I'm going to have to go back and read P.K. Dick's DADOES. I just saw the final cut version of Bladerunner and I am just totally blown away. And the weird thing is that I am sure I have seen it before (original or extra crispy cut) but I have almost no memory of it. (And no real positive memories, certainly.) Is this one of the5 movies that is as good as the book on which it is based? And what are the other four? I need to know these things, people!

Also, it turns out that the cow used in the title of this post was totally not a real cow. Getting a real cow apparently would have blown the budget.

Low Hanging Fruit

Wow. I think I may be able to increase my post frequency if I keep on doing these Grimmlet conversations. At least until she grows up into a surly teenager who hates being seen in the same county as her totally uncool dad.

At the Wagon Wheel Pizza for dinner last night...
Me: What do you want to get? They have pasta and pizza and strombolli. Do you want to try a strombolli?
Grimmlet: I want pizza.
Me: OK, they have lots of different types. Here's one with lots of toppings on it. [Listing off all the toppings.]
Grimmlet: I don't want olives on my pizza.
Me: Well, we can pick those off.
Grimmlet: OK.

Later as she is picking half-heartedly at her food:
Grimmlet: I just remembered that I wanted a cheese pizza.

---

So I also got anchovies on the pizza. I had never had them before. It wasn't horrible, but they are pretty darn salty. Also, fishy. Though I was expecting that. I think the Grimmlet actually liked them more than I did. She likened them to tuna.

Long, Long Ago

File this under possible reasons to not read Laura Ingals Wilder books to a five year old.

Me (Reading): Mewwy Chwistmas! Mewwy Chwistmas!
Grimmlet: Grace can talk now!
Me: Yes, she's getting older.
Grimmlet: Is she alive?
Me: Do you mean in real life? No, not anymore. She died a long, long time ago.
Grimmlet: I miss her.
...
Grimmlet: Do you remember the time you were reading and I was crying and you didn't know I was crying?
Me: Um... Not specifically, no.
Grimmlet: I miss them all.

Things Get Lost

A couple snippets of conversation with the Grimmlet in the car on the way to school after a trip to the doctor's office to get a flu shot. (A trip that consisted of kicking and screaming in the waiting room culminating in me carrying the unwilling Grimmlet into the hall. Therein she demanded to be released to walk by herself, which she managed to do. However, once in the examination room she resumed kicking and screaming and, at one point, took a swipe at the nurse. Her pediatrician, who is usually able to calm her very easily, had to be summoned to physically restrain her to allow the nurse to give her the shot.)

Grimmlet: Daddy, I think you should stop for a treat to reward me for being so good at the doctor's.
Me: ...

And later:

Grimmlet: Daddy, I'm hungry!
Me: What happened to all that food you ate for breakfast?
Grimmlet: It got lost in my tummy.
Me: (Trying not to cause an accident while laughing.)
Grimmlet: What's so funny?

Goggles!

My first pair of goggles is semi complete. Bronzed eyepieces on black. (Plastic) I have the idea to try a fake leather finish on the black plastic, but if that doesn't work I can always pretend the shiny plastic is patent leather, right?

Anyhow, I have started work on the second pair of goggles which I am going to try to do in silver (aluminum) and bronze (bronze). The second pair is actually better for me anyway as they fit over my glasses which is helpful since then I can also see whilst wearing them. Yays for vision!

Update:
Picture maybe? Also look on Facebook to see me sporting them.


Late Update:
Also, yays for run-on sentences.

Little Bastards, an Update

Apparently the delicacy in my laundry basket was not my socks. It was one of my shirts. A shirt that was, till this time, in quite good condition. And one of my favorites, too. It is now fit only for use in religious services. Seeing as how holey it is. Little bastard fucks! Why couldn't they have eaten one of my black shirts. I have a surfeit of black shirts. Maybe they don't taste as good.

Little bastards.

Stop Pushing

See? I update! I update!

You know, sometimes. Like now! When somebody tells me that I have not done so recently enough. Of course, I have nothing much to say. Well, that's not exactly true. I have lots of things to say but I don't really feel that this is the time or place for confession.

So let me share with you a little problem I have. Ants. In my laundry. In the house I am in right now, the laundry area is right next to the front door. That seems very odd to me, but nobody asked my opinion so there you have it. So I had been leaving a laundry basket near the washer and tossing dirty clothes in there for a while. It seemed preferable to having them all over the floor. But the other day I happened to notice (I never use the front door) a line of ants snaking (along the grout lines) from the door to the laundry basket. And lo and behold but the laundry is covered with freaking ants. Especially my socks. Why do they like my socks so damn much?

They're not even particularly nice socks. Just white crew lengths that I'm sure I bought at Wal-Mart back when going to that hell hole was convenient. I'm quite sure my floor is not a sterile environment. There is surely a crumb or two that the broom has missed. (I never sweep under the couches.) So why the pilgrimage to my socks? I do not understand.

And I have to admit that there is a (small) part of me that would like to let things remain as they are to see if they would eventually devour my socks completely. Or maybe everything but the lycra. The other, smarter, part of me is determined to find the source of the ants and pour poison all the fuck over it.

Eyeglass Loupes

That's what they are called. Also, this costuming thing is going to be expensive. Relatively so, at least. It looks like I will be spending on pants, shirt, and vest (1 each) what I normally spend all year on clothes. (Un)surprisingly, the thrift stores near me do not have a large selection of Victorian era clothing.

So, I have welders goggles on the way. I suppose I should go ahead and order the shirt/pants/vest so that I have a chance of getting them before Halloween. But I am not usually one to spend money like this, so I have been dithering and procrastinating rather than placing the order.

Gah!

Character

I have decided (for about the, oh, 8th time) that I am going to wear a costume to next years DragonCon. However, unlike every other year when I have made this decision I have actually done something about it. (I'm as surprised as you are. I'll try not to let this go to my head.)

To the end of creating an ultra-cool Steam-punk costume for next year I have ordered...wait for it...welders goggles! Not to actually do any welding, of course. But as requisite Steam-punk wear. (OK, inside joke with Kr4ster...) Anyhow, I have not been able to find any of the much cooler lenses that some people sported at the con, so goggles it will be until then.

And modding the goggles will give me some practice in making things look steamy anyhow. So it will be helpful for the rest of the costume. Next step, vest, pants, shirt, pocket-watch! Pocket-watch? To the consignment stores to see what I can find! (Because ordering that stuff online is seriously expensive. I checked.)

Caaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn!

Because I didn't want the title of the post to be Cooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnn. Because then people would read it with the 'oo' sound rather than the 'ah' sound. Stupid english language.

So. Back from Dragoncon. It was great. I had a great time even though I did not get drunk at all the entire weekend. Some great panels. Some great ideas. Got to see James Randi live in person. (He _is_ quite short.) Took loads of pictures. Friend me on Facebook if you want to see some of them. Send me a message if you want to see all of them. Oh yeah.

That's Uncle To You

Fester that is. Festering like a scrotal boil. Best description for this blog.

It mocks me with its complete lack of updates. Maybe I should put it out of its misery.

Oh...before I forget. Gladius is a very boring game. It starts off OK. But it gets old very, very fast. And the barbarian princess that sounds like a gum-popping, nearly valley girl, high school chica? Slightly amusing at first. But the unintended humor wears off.

OK, I posted something, damnit. Not that I expect anyone to read this. Wheee!

Ah, to be young again.

So I called the Grimmlet on New Year's Eve. "Do you know what today is?"

There followed a listing of activities engaged in earlier in the day.

"No, today is a semi-special day. It's New Year's Eve. Do you know what that means?"

"No."

"Well, today is the last day of 2007. And tomorrow is the first day of 2000..."

"2008! 2008! 2008!" (Screamed with all the copious excitement that a four year old can bring to bear.)

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This year I resolve to be less anti-social and actually go to a new year's eve party if invited.