sleepy and omg full
Apr. 27th, 2006 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbicideQuick update.
My mom is here and loves my place! Yay!
OMG homemade mommy-food is a good, good thing. She's already made two of my favorite dishes.
It was very exciting to come home for lunch. Mmmm.
My French teacher said, out of the blue, that I am very pretty and have a pleasing air that must draw people to me. *flutter*
Payday, I think, will always be a small celebration around here. Because a month of waiting = my bank account LOW.
While this payday displayed the first cuts from 401K and my contribution to my healthcare plan, it wasn't as much as I feared, so whew!
My brother and SIL are coming over for a bbq on Saturday, so that should be fun.
Having obtained said paycheck, I'm going to go and get those two remaining Steinlen prints framed and hang them, by gum.
I really want new bedding, but am struggling with colors and patterns in a red/cream room. I love striped socks, but not apparently striped bedding.
Just caught up on some tv. Boo to all the recap bullshit going on (Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy). Loved Veronica Mars. This week's Survivor was also rather good.
As the spring continues and summer draws closer, I have some exciting travel plans.
May: Paris! Oui! Oui!
June: LA, for my cousin's graduation
July: Second Annual Sequim Soujourn with Sarah
August (or Sept): San Diego, to visit Jeanne in her new digs
As much as I hate the airlines, they're certainly getting a lot of my money this year.
I really want to write about The Time Traveler's Wife, but I don't think I have anything intelligent to offer. Just a lot of explosive praise and some weeping. And how is that different, really, from most of my posts? (Hee.) So once I finish the final twenty pages, I will blather on about it. I tried to make it through the last twenty last night, but kept giving myself a near concussion with the book slamming into my face. I feel as though I will be bereft once it is over, and don't want to read the last page. Though, in some ways, I wish I'd already stopped. Oh, fuck it.
I will always remember the most key moment for me of this book, the moment when it finally permeated that Henry was going to die. And once I realized that, it made sense, but it was a horrible sort of sense, and I wanted to cry so hard for him and for Clare. I was completely chilled, suddenly remembering that scene from Clare's childhood when she comes out and finds her father and Mark and Henry standing around a bloody patch. But I stupidly forgot about it as I immersed myself deeper into the book. Then, when that moment is alluded to much later, it completely freaked me out. I wanted to read ahead and I wanted to know, but I also didn't want anything bad to happen. But how else could the book end? He couldn't just keep going on, it wasn't that type of book. And some part of me just wished I could have stopped before reading that irrevocable line. Poor, poor Henry. What an exhausting existence. And what a sad and random way to die. I thought, after reading that one line, that Mark and Clare's father must think him an intruder and shoot him, but it was an accident. How awful. Though, I don't know--is it better, worse, or neither, when the conclusion is still that Henry is dead. Clare and Alba left behind without him makes me so unbearably sad.
My mom is here and loves my place! Yay!
OMG homemade mommy-food is a good, good thing. She's already made two of my favorite dishes.
It was very exciting to come home for lunch. Mmmm.
My French teacher said, out of the blue, that I am very pretty and have a pleasing air that must draw people to me. *flutter*
Payday, I think, will always be a small celebration around here. Because a month of waiting = my bank account LOW.
While this payday displayed the first cuts from 401K and my contribution to my healthcare plan, it wasn't as much as I feared, so whew!
My brother and SIL are coming over for a bbq on Saturday, so that should be fun.
Having obtained said paycheck, I'm going to go and get those two remaining Steinlen prints framed and hang them, by gum.
I really want new bedding, but am struggling with colors and patterns in a red/cream room. I love striped socks, but not apparently striped bedding.
Just caught up on some tv. Boo to all the recap bullshit going on (Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy). Loved Veronica Mars. This week's Survivor was also rather good.
As the spring continues and summer draws closer, I have some exciting travel plans.
May: Paris! Oui! Oui!
June: LA, for my cousin's graduation
July: Second Annual Sequim Soujourn with Sarah
August (or Sept): San Diego, to visit Jeanne in her new digs
As much as I hate the airlines, they're certainly getting a lot of my money this year.
I really want to write about The Time Traveler's Wife, but I don't think I have anything intelligent to offer. Just a lot of explosive praise and some weeping. And how is that different, really, from most of my posts? (Hee.) So once I finish the final twenty pages, I will blather on about it. I tried to make it through the last twenty last night, but kept giving myself a near concussion with the book slamming into my face. I feel as though I will be bereft once it is over, and don't want to read the last page. Though, in some ways, I wish I'd already stopped. Oh, fuck it.
I will always remember the most key moment for me of this book, the moment when it finally permeated that Henry was going to die. And once I realized that, it made sense, but it was a horrible sort of sense, and I wanted to cry so hard for him and for Clare. I was completely chilled, suddenly remembering that scene from Clare's childhood when she comes out and finds her father and Mark and Henry standing around a bloody patch. But I stupidly forgot about it as I immersed myself deeper into the book. Then, when that moment is alluded to much later, it completely freaked me out. I wanted to read ahead and I wanted to know, but I also didn't want anything bad to happen. But how else could the book end? He couldn't just keep going on, it wasn't that type of book. And some part of me just wished I could have stopped before reading that irrevocable line. Poor, poor Henry. What an exhausting existence. And what a sad and random way to die. I thought, after reading that one line, that Mark and Clare's father must think him an intruder and shoot him, but it was an accident. How awful. Though, I don't know--is it better, worse, or neither, when the conclusion is still that Henry is dead. Clare and Alba left behind without him makes me so unbearably sad.
