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Saturday night
May. 2nd, 2004 01:07 amM bought me some popsicle sticks today and I made some homemade Jello pudding pops. I took pictures, but can't be arsed to transfer them and upload. Chocolate and vanilla swirl--although to be fair, it's more like chocolate and vanilla stacks--the swirl didn't take all that much. Two boxes of pudding and four cups of milk made fourteen popsicles of approximately three ounces and 58 calories each. As for taste--well, they're alright as far as homemade frozen treats go, but they're not like the original. These aren't smooth enough, or creamy enough. I think I'll try again later with the second recipe I found, but these should hold me over for a while. :)
We finally watched Lost in Translation tonight--or, as I've been calling it.. Dude, Where's My Plot? What an odd movie. Not bad--even with the lack of a plot--but very odd. I think I liked it, even. I feel a little like writing some pretentious thoughts about the validity of that "lost" feeling when one is in a cross-cultural relationship, but I'm too tired to tie it together, so I think I'll pass.
Hmm.. what else is new? I didn't mean to miss a couple days of writing, but I've been moody and restless and trying not to dwell on it. I have a fabulous husband and a happy life, so I don't really deserve angst, but it slips in now and then anyway. I went to lunch with my parents and Whitley today while M went birthday shopping. I think he's done now--he'd better be because he's gone over the budget with just the things that I know he bought me--you know, the stuff I picked out. It's going to be a very bookish birthday this year, which is exciting. We went to Milton yesterday and picked out two bags full of used books--so instead of say, twelve new books, I got over thirty used ones. (Milton is a town in West Virginia with a flea market.) By the way, just so you know--even if their opening hours at Milton on Friday are 8-4, you really don't want to go. They might be open, but 94% of the vendors aren't there. If the book lady hadn't been there, I might have cried. We were going to go to the circus here in town because we had free tickets, but by the time we got home, we decided not to bother with it. We gave the tickets to Brad. As it turns out, it was just as well--Whitley said the circus was quite boring. No elephants.. just a bear and a couple of dogs. What's the world coming to?
Whitley, by the way, has a new boyfriend. His name is Travis. He told her the other day that he was sorry he didn't talk to her all that much at school, but that.. and I'm not making this up.. she is just so beautiful that she takes his breath away. *laugh* Out of the mouths of nine-year-olds.. ahem. Her ex-boyfriend, Dillon, told her when she broke up with him (alas, I suppose they're not going to the sock hop together at the end of the year after all--they lined that up at her birthday party in March) that she could just think about it [getting back together with him] when she "got older". She just rolled her eyes when telling us about it and said that she probably wouldn't even know him when she got older. Ha! Take that, little boy! He was at her party and he kind of got on my nerves, so I guess it's not nice of me to admit that I was glad she broke up with him. I'm such a mean old lady.
I just read, via Mick Farren's blog, that our esteemed president took 98 days of vacation last year, not counting long weekends at Camp David. Assuming that statistic is true--and I don't really doubt it, considering that as of October of 2003 he had already taken more vacation days in his three years than Clinton did in his seven--that's 19.6 weeks (of five day standard working weeks), for those of you keeping score. That would be (1.63 weeks a month--or approximately the amount of vacation that the average American can feel lucky to have in one year.. well, that is... the Americans who actually still have jobs. No worries, though--not like he was doing anything important like say, waging war.
We finally watched Lost in Translation tonight--or, as I've been calling it.. Dude, Where's My Plot? What an odd movie. Not bad--even with the lack of a plot--but very odd. I think I liked it, even. I feel a little like writing some pretentious thoughts about the validity of that "lost" feeling when one is in a cross-cultural relationship, but I'm too tired to tie it together, so I think I'll pass.
Hmm.. what else is new? I didn't mean to miss a couple days of writing, but I've been moody and restless and trying not to dwell on it. I have a fabulous husband and a happy life, so I don't really deserve angst, but it slips in now and then anyway. I went to lunch with my parents and Whitley today while M went birthday shopping. I think he's done now--he'd better be because he's gone over the budget with just the things that I know he bought me--you know, the stuff I picked out. It's going to be a very bookish birthday this year, which is exciting. We went to Milton yesterday and picked out two bags full of used books--so instead of say, twelve new books, I got over thirty used ones. (Milton is a town in West Virginia with a flea market.) By the way, just so you know--even if their opening hours at Milton on Friday are 8-4, you really don't want to go. They might be open, but 94% of the vendors aren't there. If the book lady hadn't been there, I might have cried. We were going to go to the circus here in town because we had free tickets, but by the time we got home, we decided not to bother with it. We gave the tickets to Brad. As it turns out, it was just as well--Whitley said the circus was quite boring. No elephants.. just a bear and a couple of dogs. What's the world coming to?
Whitley, by the way, has a new boyfriend. His name is Travis. He told her the other day that he was sorry he didn't talk to her all that much at school, but that.. and I'm not making this up.. she is just so beautiful that she takes his breath away. *laugh* Out of the mouths of nine-year-olds.. ahem. Her ex-boyfriend, Dillon, told her when she broke up with him (alas, I suppose they're not going to the sock hop together at the end of the year after all--they lined that up at her birthday party in March) that she could just think about it [getting back together with him] when she "got older". She just rolled her eyes when telling us about it and said that she probably wouldn't even know him when she got older. Ha! Take that, little boy! He was at her party and he kind of got on my nerves, so I guess it's not nice of me to admit that I was glad she broke up with him. I'm such a mean old lady.
I just read, via Mick Farren's blog, that our esteemed president took 98 days of vacation last year, not counting long weekends at Camp David. Assuming that statistic is true--and I don't really doubt it, considering that as of October of 2003 he had already taken more vacation days in his three years than Clinton did in his seven--that's 19.6 weeks (of five day standard working weeks), for those of you keeping score. That would be (1.63 weeks a month--or approximately the amount of vacation that the average American can feel lucky to have in one year.. well, that is... the Americans who actually still have jobs. No worries, though--not like he was doing anything important like say, waging war.
