Random Thoughts Hastily Scrawled Because Once Again I’m In a Hurry
It was a slow enough day at work today that you’d think I’d have spent it carefully composing my favershamerie, but instead I spent my downtime arranging a new Shutterfly album of Baby Dog photos on the company’s time. A bunch of you were probably keen and eager recipients thereof. I only sent to people I was pretty sure would want to see it. If you didn’t get the album and would like to, send me an email. There are some damn cute ones in it.
Then it got busy in the afternoon, and I haven’t thought much about what I might have to say today.
Here’s the world we live in and the part I play: I pass the same panhandling homeless people on the way to work every day. I know them by sight, but not by name. “Famished Guy,” “Shucking and Jiving Guy,” “Twisty Neck Guy,” “Old Asian Lady.” They have regular spots and schedules. If they’re not at their spot when it’s time for their shift, I worry about them. But I rarely if ever give them any money, or even acknowledge their existence if I can help it…not because they’re homeless, but because I’m monumentally antisocial when walking to and from the BART station. I play exactly the same “no eye contact” games if I see a co-worker in the ant trail with me. I’ve pretended to stop at the ATM to avoid having to make chitchat with a civil engineer or two. Can’t say I’ve gone to those lengths with the homeless.
Baby Dog’s Gran is in town for Mama Dog’s birthday. I’m hoping she’ll help me settle my party food quandary. The caterer I thought I was going to have can’t do it after all…wish I’d thought of him a week earlier. Oh well. He gave some pretty good alternate suggestions, and we’ll look into them tomorrow.
We finished Black Narcissus last night – it only took two instalments. In the process, we received a pretty strong warning that our days of watching movies while Baby Dog’s awake have come to an end. She has discovered her babbling voice and was giving it free reign. We had to keep pausing the movie because no matter how high up we had the volume, Deborah Kerr just could not compete with the random squawks and shrieks of pleasure. The bouncy chair trick worked eventually…we took turns sitting in front of the bairn while the movie played behind her. She started to doze off during a scene where rhythmic native drums dominated the soundtrack. That sent Mama Dog scrambling to dig up her S. Kwaku Daddy CD for use next time sleep proves difficult to induce.
The movie, by the way, was gorgeous, a lovingly mounted Himalayan melodrama filmed entirely at Pinewood Studios in the middle of London. The artifice is flawless, except perhaps for the number of Tibetan characters who seem suspiciously like Britons with a little shoe polish rubbed on their faces. May Hallatt in particular seemed a little like Eliza Doolittle’s grandmother unaccountably dropped down at the edge of Everest. Here’s the only picture I can find of her, perched under the armpit of leading man Alan Farrar, who plays one of those chaps who go native.
Must get home now. Can’t wait for the new computer. Dude, we’re getting a Dell!
Then it got busy in the afternoon, and I haven’t thought much about what I might have to say today.
Here’s the world we live in and the part I play: I pass the same panhandling homeless people on the way to work every day. I know them by sight, but not by name. “Famished Guy,” “Shucking and Jiving Guy,” “Twisty Neck Guy,” “Old Asian Lady.” They have regular spots and schedules. If they’re not at their spot when it’s time for their shift, I worry about them. But I rarely if ever give them any money, or even acknowledge their existence if I can help it…not because they’re homeless, but because I’m monumentally antisocial when walking to and from the BART station. I play exactly the same “no eye contact” games if I see a co-worker in the ant trail with me. I’ve pretended to stop at the ATM to avoid having to make chitchat with a civil engineer or two. Can’t say I’ve gone to those lengths with the homeless.
Baby Dog’s Gran is in town for Mama Dog’s birthday. I’m hoping she’ll help me settle my party food quandary. The caterer I thought I was going to have can’t do it after all…wish I’d thought of him a week earlier. Oh well. He gave some pretty good alternate suggestions, and we’ll look into them tomorrow.
We finished Black Narcissus last night – it only took two instalments. In the process, we received a pretty strong warning that our days of watching movies while Baby Dog’s awake have come to an end. She has discovered her babbling voice and was giving it free reign. We had to keep pausing the movie because no matter how high up we had the volume, Deborah Kerr just could not compete with the random squawks and shrieks of pleasure. The bouncy chair trick worked eventually…we took turns sitting in front of the bairn while the movie played behind her. She started to doze off during a scene where rhythmic native drums dominated the soundtrack. That sent Mama Dog scrambling to dig up her S. Kwaku Daddy CD for use next time sleep proves difficult to induce.
The movie, by the way, was gorgeous, a lovingly mounted Himalayan melodrama filmed entirely at Pinewood Studios in the middle of London. The artifice is flawless, except perhaps for the number of Tibetan characters who seem suspiciously like Britons with a little shoe polish rubbed on their faces. May Hallatt in particular seemed a little like Eliza Doolittle’s grandmother unaccountably dropped down at the edge of Everest. Here’s the only picture I can find of her, perched under the armpit of leading man Alan Farrar, who plays one of those chaps who go native.
Must get home now. Can’t wait for the new computer. Dude, we’re getting a Dell!
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 6:49 PM
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