Red, red everywhere

And crystal, bountiful balconies, beautifully-dressed (and significantly less beautifully-dressed) people and that hushed, less-chattery background noise that comes to be when people are trying to act less tacky than usual and are surrounded by the finest sound-eating materials the taxpayers' $ can buy...

So, I like the opera. Funny faced-overacting, mind-blowing voices and easy-to-follow plot. What's not to like? I do think I'm more of an opera buffa, Italian-lite-type girl, rather than a Wagnerian fan. Opera seria is just a little too heavy, too big, too long for my taste. Gianni Schicchi is a very manageable length, almost too short, much like the evening's opening performance. What I found really strange was that every person that I mentioned opera attendance to, every single one claimed to like opera. That really surprised me, and mayhap we will test that theory some time...

More importantly, I went out on a Friday!!! That is a something that hasn't happened for a while, as I usually go home to be floppy and watch the TV I've taped over the week. It was actually a ton of fun and content-wise, was very much like a Very Good Date. Except, our time sipping drinks while overlooking the water, under a smiling moon, with gently wafting breezes, was engaged in depressing political debate, rather than more setting-appropriate banter. Sigh. I get it, fun things only happen under the most platonic of circumstances.

Not a city girl

Current mood: glug. urpy. grumpy. stressed.

HATE THE METRO. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3.5 hours to get from hither to thither on the metro (well, and back again, in all fairness). Nevermind that it was a long distance - that was way too long. I could have gone to bloody NYC!!! I'm not a big fan of the metro due to the motion sickness I get even when it's running smoothly and quickly, so the underground stop and go game we played in the train car today was so. not. fun. And the not-so-brief moments of A/C and lighting loss? Total claustrophobia. Ack.

Glad to be back at the office

Current mood: content

Even if it weren't for the ever-ready internet connection or the network files at my fingertips, the nice people to wave to, chat up, and eat lunch with, the comfort of my almost-ergonomic chair, and unfailing net of tech support (HEART you guys!), the arcane ritual of "plant dusting" would be enough to make me come back to the office :)

Old fogey

I turned down the chance to go see John Stewart perform in order to hang out with my friends at home. Regardless of my good reasons for doing so (wiped out by red eye, rudeness for cancelling previously existing plans, need to eat food that was not cooked by the corporate machine, no $), I felt old and lame. But okay with it. Guess I really am getting old!

(But hey! Playing games, eating good food, and enjoying the company of good friends isn't lame!)

(Except when it is.)

(Get over it, you're old!)

Completely inappropriate things for hotel staff to say

Current mood: infuriated

You know that new Dixie Chicks song, the one about being hoppin' mad and not ready to make nice, i.e., still aching to bop someone in the nose? Yeah, that's how I feel towards Comfort Inn hotel staff about now:

"Oh, I'm not from around here. You'll have to look that up in the phone book." THRICE! (In answer to, where can I find a gym/food/FedEx?)

"Well, FedEx doesn't pick up here. You'll have to call them." (Um, this is a hotel, right? YOU bloody call them.)

"Oh, is this your package? My shift just started, so I don't know who was handling it, but I'm sure someone called FedEx and they'll come get it tomorrow." (Well, I wanted it to go out TODAY. That's the whole point of priority overnight!)

"The Internet is closed." [As her homework books are strewn about the terminal.] Well, I can't access the WiFi you so generously provide, and I need to turn this in for work. "I'm sorry, you'll have to come back tomorrow." [Blood pressure unable to rise further] Hurt! Maim!! Kill!!!

Aaaaaaand that's when I rolled my eyes, collected my package to ship out my own d*mn self, and stomped back to my room. There was no calling of names, of managers, or general mayhem, because I was 99.99% certain that I wouldn't be able to maintain an icy and precise outraged demeanor, and no one really takes hysterically shrieking/sobbing/tantrumming/ironically laughing harpies seriously. A pity, that.

What glass ceiling?

Turns out, I am a sexist pig. Or maybe not, who can tell these days? All I know is that I started when I heard the pilot's distinctly female voice come over the intercom. Now, I didn't actually think any disparaging thoughts in the context of competence or ability, I was just surprised. But then I was annoyed at myself for being surprised. And then I was annoyed at myself for being annoyed because I can't actually remember being on a plane with a female pilot, so why would it be wrong to note a genuine first? Next, I chewed off my own tail worrying this to death with my own brand of guilty circular thinking. All that matters is that, in the end, I was surprised to be flown by a woman, and that made me a little sad.

***************************

I'm not sure if it was the flight or the date, but the plane was nearly empty today - very unusual in these days of booking to over-capacity. I'll admit that I was extra thankful when my flight touched down without incident. I so did not tell my mother what days I was traveling this week.

You can still smoke in Ohio

I hadn't heard it in such a long time that the syllables felt foreign to my ear and I couldn't quite think of the appropriate response, settling for the ever-elegant, "eh?" with an eyebrow quirk and a bit of a frown. My friend smoothly answered, "Non, please," and we were led past wafty diners and a well-shrouded-bar to the non-smoking section. No additional ventilation, no wall barriers, no signs proclaiming sure death and heavy fines. For an easterner that spends a significant amount of time in California, where it is barely legal to smoke in your own home, the scene came as quite a shock. "You mean...people can smoke in public here?" My friend's reply was quick and sardonic, "well, here in Ohio, people still have the freedom to exercise their rights."

Now, while I personally benefit greatly from the Great Smoking Ban, I have to agree with the tone of this sentiment. When D.C. and a lot of Maryland decided to ban smoking in restaurants, I'll admit that I both rejoiced and groused. Now, my smoking friends couldn't stink up the table, and I wouldn't even have to be a whiny priss! On the other hand, my friends would be forced to leave the table and ostracized in the cold (or humidity), merely to indulge in a perfectly legal and socially acceptable adult behavior. We don't even have the option to patronize a facility in the District that could let us choose an acceptable environment. Though I am an interested student of public health, I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go to actually curtail or ban certain personal freedoms to promote the welfare of many. (Though I need to think about which freedoms I think should be inviolate and which are actually privileges, rather than rights.) There leads the slippery slope towards genuinely scary Big-Brother government actions in overseeing "what's best" for the people.

And then they spin

While I'm not convinced that I need to go more than once a year, I think a yearly pilgrimage to the Cirque du Soleil (still the only "circus" I've ever been to) is becoming quite necessary. Oh the magic, the physical virtuosity, the cheap thrills and genuine chills! The stunning feats of physicality and theatrical surprise make me chortle and clap like a little girl. Perhaps I could do without some of the just plain strange (read: European sensibilities at work!!!) costuming and song choices, and oftentimes, the somewhat extraneous background performers (who are usually just spinning, or running around, or waving body parts about aimlessly).

So far, I've visited the worlds of Varekai (psychedelic, hopped-up bugs) and Quidam (crazy, angry, and adorable Madeline with her fine, feathered friends). Probably skipping the D.C. tour of Corteo. Would really, really like to get out to Vegas to see "O," or one of the other, bigger, permanent shows.

Real shows come to Cincinnati!!! Who knew? (I'm such a coastal snob!!!)

Delicious, delicious toast

Current mood: happily working away

I hardly ever buy bread, so my opportunities to eat toast are few and far between. Which is probably a good thing, because that allows me to forget how much I LUVS me some hot, (WELL-) buttered toast (Ummmm, cinnamon raisin, italian white bread, hearty multi-grain...) and that it's not entirely impossible for me to eat a whole loaf in an orgiastic day of toast-consuming frenzy. What was that thing about not binging again?

Also? Work goes by a lot quicker with a glass (or three) of wine in hand. This working from home thing has some serious perks.

I love jet skis

Current mood: Everything hurts, except for my sh*t-eating grin

This is what I sound like when I get to drive: "HahahahahahahahaaaaiiiiieeeeeeeeeeewhoooooohoooooaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhOW!!" A trip to vowel city on continuous loop. That's pretty much what I sound like when I'm a passenger as well, except at a slightly higher pitch and volume, since I can't anticipate what's going to happen next. It's like I CAN'T NOT make sounds. Also, 40 mph on choppy water is FAST, yo.

TODAY my throat is raw.

Cedar Point

Not that I spend much time debating the finer points of the Best. Amusement. Park. On. Earth, but I'm surprised that more people don't talk about this place, while there's plenty of hype about the Evil Disney Empire and the ex-Magic Mountains. I've heard that the peninsula upon which TONS and TONS of rides rest is literally sinking into the bay because there is just so much d*mn steel! And, dude, I believe it. The rides are carefully planned to take up every available bit of air, land, and water space. EVERYTHING sits on pylons of some sort, and they have a good number of the top ten tallest and fastest coasters. When we were first driving up, the Milleniun Force was staring me in the face, and I had to swallow a big GULP, because I'd never seen a roller coaster that came *quite* so close to 90 degrees...on both sides...that is, until I actually got inside the park, where the Dragway stands in all of its glory, with its perfectly UP and perfectly DOWN trajectory...and did I mention the 120 mph blast off? Yeah, HUGE GULP.

Anyhow, not only are the rides exciting/exhilirating/totally scream-inducing (of course, for me, that's not really saying much. I scream my fool head off all the time.), but you're on the beach! Some of the lines you stand in are only feet away from the water and people's parked jet skis and discarded sand-castle-building accoutrements. I had the luck and the privelige of riding the Magnum (a lot of roller coasters have names that sound curiously like condom brands/types. Coincidence?) right about sunset on a gorgeous, sun-drenched day. As we were climbing up, I couldn't take my eyes off the horizon, where the sun was going down on the water (heh) in a blaze of multihued glory. I kept trying to get my seatmate to look at the sunset - I was so occupied in looking around that I failed to notice when we our car started to tumble off the peak, so it went something like this...*tugs on sleeve* "No, but look over atAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!"

Let's see, what else. Had my first funnel cake. Remind me to never eat a whole funnel cake by myself ever again. While it was greasily delicious, I was a little too grateful that our next line was nearly two hours long. Ooh, and salt water taffy is YUM! Except for the nasty licorice-flavored pieces. Those things really need a key. I had NO voice by the end of the night, so I just HAD to salve my raw, maltreated throat with some dippin' dots. They were medicinal!

Oh, and because I wasn't made to say it enough times this weekend: I apologize for discounting Cedar Point as "Good enough for Ohioans," because it really is the best amusement park In The World.

Night on the town

Current mood: feeling like a well-trained (and very full) monkey

Dining with parents that are not yours. It's an interesting experience - you feel like you're on display and it requires a lot more thought than dining with your own family. Shall I be funny? Must keep it clean. Time to listen intently. What to order? 2nd glass of wine? 3rd glass of wine? Will it offend the vegetarians if I really, really want to eat the baby sheep? Not everyone is gettiing dessert, but that souffle looks good...are they watching me eat? Judging what/how much I eat? How to thank them enough for taking me out? How much is thanking TOO profusely? Do I have greenery in my teeth? Do I have to finish chewing completely before I reply? But they are looking at me like they want me to say something - NOW.

Suffice it to say, I don't dine out much with parents that aren't mine, and mine are super easy. Stare at each other without talking, idle comment on the decor/service/available selection of Chinese food ('cause, what else are we going to go out for?)/your day or snide remark about a sibling. Chew, chew, chew. Stare, look around, stare. Easy! At home, it's even easier, because the droning of the TV alleviates any need to talk...