From Twitter 12-23-2009

• 09:46:11: Today's Basket - it's a dinosaur http://flic.kr/p/7pX8xW
  
• 10:10:21: i've been trying to download a movie from amazon to my TiVo for two days now... so far 0 mins available to watch - #amazonfail
  
• 10:15:31: i just realized that my rare tweets are all gripes. hmmm seems when i need to bitch, twitter is my goto. not sure that's even all bad
  
• 11:07:40: i am totally rocking out to my ABBA Pandora station. living alone has many benefits.
  
• 14:47:03: strung ethernet cable over to TiVo for 1 LAST try at downloading this stupid movie. fail this time will = done trying.
  
• 14:57:50: I call it my No, It's Not My Wireless It's Your Server. Here I'll Prove It Cable http://flic.kr/p/7pWnJX
  
• 20:04:56: Downloaded the pilot of Big Bang Theory for Amazon test. Just watched it.I thought it was amazing at the time and it's so much better now.
  

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-23-2009

• 09:46:11: Today's Basket - it's a dinosaur http://flic.kr/p/7pX8xW
  
• 10:10:21: i've been trying to download a movie from amazon to my TiVo for two days now... so far 0 mins available to watch - #amazonfail
  
• 10:15:31: i just realized that my rare tweets are all gripes. hmmm seems when i need to bitch, twitter is my goto. not sure that's even all bad
  
• 11:07:40: i am totally rocking out to my ABBA Pandora station. living alone has many benefits.
  
• 14:47:03: strung ethernet cable over to TiVo for 1 LAST try at downloading this stupid movie. fail this time will = done trying.
  
• 14:57:50: I call it my No, It's Not My Wireless It's Your Server. Here I'll Prove It Cable http://flic.kr/p/7pWnJX
  
• 20:04:56: Downloaded the pilot of Big Bang Theory for Amazon test. Just watched it.I thought it was amazing at the time and it's so much better now.
  

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

Today's Basket

I'm using up some of the small balls so the next creature, at least, will be colorful.

Today's Basket

I'm using up some of the small balls so the next creature, at least, will be colorful.

Procrastinating...

I need to clean up the kitchen before I go to the gym and so before I do that, I'm finishing my coffee in hopes that something will cancel the gym thing. I know it won't, but still...

When my parents got married in 1948, the first thing they did was move 1,500 miles away from their parents and never moved back. They started creating their own family traditions and they were very good at it. Christmas Eve was our biggie. Santa came to us first cause we were special. He came after dinner just as we we finished putting on the pajamas that Great Aunt Etta sent to us each year.

But the morning of Christmas Eve is what I'm remembering now. My Mom baked acres of Christmas cookies every year. Pretty ones, tasty ones, traditional ones, weird ones - dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens. Then with tin pie pans, white tissue paper, cellophane and red ribbons, she made beautiful packages for dozens of family friends.

It was the job of Daddy and my brother and sister and me to deliver them all on Christmas Eve. We loaded up the station wagon. (I should link to Wikipedia for that one, probably.) and set out. Most people on our route looked forward to the delivery every year and it was fun. We called out dibs for the best folks like Old Mr. Hanes (yes, the original Mr. Hanes who started Hanes underwear... Daddy's boss). They had a grand house with a butler who was the best hugger in the world and Mr. Hanes always gave each of us a silver dollar.

This morning I sent my brother an IM telling him that I was calling dibs on taking cookies into George and Helen's. George and Helen were a couple who were special family friends. They had no children so everyone's children - us - were treated like royalty. Their house was so pretty.

(The other thing I remember is that George and Helen did not smoke cigarettes. This was HUGE since we lived in Winston-Salem which, only had two industries then... RJ Reynolds tobacco and Hanes. George and Helen were THE only two adults I ever knew, as a child, who did NOT smoke. But at cocktail parties, they always had an unlit cigarette in their hands. Always. I asked my Mom about this and she explained that it was only polite to support local industry and if you didn't smoke at least carrying a cigarette showed your support. It sounds bizarre now, I know but then, not so much.)

It occurs to me this morning that my family's traditions also lived practical lives and died nicely when it was time. Around the time that my sister (we were a year and a half apart) and I had just gone off to college, they shipped my brother off to boarding school and they moved to New York City. Christmas in New York City was so thrilling that no one noticed we weren't delivering cookies any more plus, we left the station wagon behind.

Ok, enough. I need to get to the kitchen and to the gym. Then I have knitting to do. legalmoose just twittered that the project in Today's Basket might be "A frog-pig; the love child of Kermit & Miss Piggy." My first thought was oh, how would that look... but that was soon replaced with eewwwww. Plus, Miss Piggy is nobody's fool, she would never do the nasty without iron clad birth control.

Procrastinating...

I need to clean up the kitchen before I go to the gym and so before I do that, I'm finishing my coffee in hopes that something will cancel the gym thing. I know it won't, but still...

When my parents got married in 1948, the first thing they did was move 1,500 miles away from their parents and never moved back. They started creating their own family traditions and they were very good at it. Christmas Eve was our biggie. Santa came to us first cause we were special. He came after dinner just as we we finished putting on the pajamas that Great Aunt Etta sent to us each year.

But the morning of Christmas Eve is what I'm remembering now. My Mom baked acres of Christmas cookies every year. Pretty ones, tasty ones, traditional ones, weird ones - dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens. Then with tin pie pans, white tissue paper, cellophane and red ribbons, she made beautiful packages for dozens of family friends.

It was the job of Daddy and my brother and sister and me to deliver them all on Christmas Eve. We loaded up the station wagon. (I should link to Wikipedia for that one, probably.) and set out. Most people on our route looked forward to the delivery every year and it was fun. We called out dibs for the best folks like Old Mr. Hanes (yes, the original Mr. Hanes who started Hanes underwear... Daddy's boss). They had a grand house with a butler who was the best hugger in the world and Mr. Hanes always gave each of us a silver dollar.

This morning I sent my brother an IM telling him that I was calling dibs on taking cookies into George and Helen's. George and Helen were a couple who were special family friends. They had no children so everyone's children - us - were treated like royalty. Their house was so pretty.

(The other thing I remember is that George and Helen did not smoke cigarettes. This was HUGE since we lived in Winston-Salem which, only had two industries then... RJ Reynolds tobacco and Hanes. George and Helen were THE only two adults I ever knew, as a child, who did NOT smoke. But at cocktail parties, they always had an unlit cigarette in their hands. Always. I asked my Mom about this and she explained that it was only polite to support local industry and if you didn't smoke at least carrying a cigarette showed your support. It sounds bizarre now, I know but then, not so much.)

It occurs to me this morning that my family's traditions also lived practical lives and died nicely when it was time. Around the time that my sister (we were a year and a half apart) and I had just gone off to college, they shipped my brother off to boarding school and they moved to New York City. Christmas in New York City was so thrilling that no one noticed we weren't delivering cookies any more plus, we left the station wagon behind.

Ok, enough. I need to get to the kitchen and to the gym. Then I have knitting to do. legalmoose just twittered that the project in Today's Basket might be "A frog-pig; the love child of Kermit & Miss Piggy." My first thought was oh, how would that look... but that was soon replaced with eewwwww. Plus, Miss Piggy is nobody's fool, she would never do the nasty without iron clad birth control.

Gym Report - cardio

I did my duty. 20 minutes on the elliptical with intervals and 10 mins on the no-back bike with intervals. I am sweaty and planning on being a slug the rest of the day.

Gym Report - cardio

I did my duty. 20 minutes on the elliptical with intervals and 10 mins on the no-back bike with intervals. I am sweaty and planning on being a slug the rest of the day.

Me and my phone and my house cleaner - bah humbug

I am so over my Treo Pro and Windows Mobile, for that matter. Google has exactly 1 year to get a spectacular phone and OS ready for me and they had better get the fuck with the program.

Today I reset the damn thing back to factory settings and started from scratch with the bare minimum. At least, now, if they battery starts draining out like a sieve again, I can more easily troubleshoot. GRRR.

I spent most of the day fucking around with the phone and waiting for Amira. I do love her cleaning but I have taught her now that it's fine with me for her to say she will be here and then not show and it is not fine. I was being nice and trying to be understanding and sympathetic. I know that the money she makes here is important to her so if she can't make it at the appointed time, once or twice, I was ok with moving the time so I could get a clean house and she could get paid.

But, I'm done. If she can't make it, then we just skip and wait until next time. Last time she called and asked if she could come Saturday instead and I said fine. On Saturday she came and dropped off a card and gift (a re-gift, obviously) and asked if she could come Sunday, I said fine. Never heard a word. On Tuesday she called and asked if she could come Today. I said 'but Amira, that's Christmas Eve, are you sure you want to come Christmas Eve?' Oh yes, she assured me - early 10:30 in the morning.

It's 3 pm and I haven't heard another word. She might still show up today. If so, I'll tell her. If not, I have an email ready to go. No more Ms. Sympathy here. I'm done. Ho Ho Ho.

Me and my phone and my house cleaner - bah humbug

I am so over my Treo Pro and Windows Mobile, for that matter. Google has exactly 1 year to get a spectacular phone and OS ready for me and they had better get the fuck with the program.

Today I reset the damn thing back to factory settings and started from scratch with the bare minimum. At least, now, if they battery starts draining out like a sieve again, I can more easily troubleshoot. GRRR.

I spent most of the day fucking around with the phone and waiting for Amira. I do love her cleaning but I have taught her now that it's fine with me for her to say she will be here and then not show and it is not fine. I was being nice and trying to be understanding and sympathetic. I know that the money she makes here is important to her so if she can't make it at the appointed time, once or twice, I was ok with moving the time so I could get a clean house and she could get paid.

But, I'm done. If she can't make it, then we just skip and wait until next time. Last time she called and asked if she could come Saturday instead and I said fine. On Saturday she came and dropped off a card and gift (a re-gift, obviously) and asked if she could come Sunday, I said fine. Never heard a word. On Tuesday she called and asked if she could come Today. I said 'but Amira, that's Christmas Eve, are you sure you want to come Christmas Eve?' Oh yes, she assured me - early 10:30 in the morning.

It's 3 pm and I haven't heard another word. She might still show up today. If so, I'll tell her. If not, I have an email ready to go. No more Ms. Sympathy here. I'm done. Ho Ho Ho.

Really... ho ho ho

Both of my parents (here we go again letmesaything) grew up in German households with German Christmas traditions which bled over into my growing up family.

We rarely put the tree up much before the week of Christmas. When my Mom was little, the tree was put up by her parents in the parlor behind closed doors on Christmas Eve and she and her brother only saw it after Santa had come and gone. But, Daddy loved the getting of the tree and the decorating of the tree and he loved having helpers. So we were the last in the neighborhood to get it up but we probably had the most fun.

Then after all the cookies were delivered, we went home where Mom was deep into Christmas Eve dinner. I remember beef, mostly but who the heck cared what the menu was? The main attraction was only a few hours away! We ate and cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen and then... is it time yet????... we scampered upstairs to get into the new pajamas the Aunt Etta had sent.

Mom always came up to help us and always always, just as we were nearly totally pajama'd, we'd here the sleigh bells. Big old jangly bells dangled from the wreath on the front door and that's what we'd hear. Then Daddy's big voice would boom out... "Well WELCOME SANTA!!! How nice it is to see you!!!!"

We were quiet, quiet, quiet and we could hear Santa and Daddy talking in the den where the tree was but we could never quite make out what they were saying. But, pretty soon, they'd be near the front door again and Daddy would be saying "Thank you, Santa! I hope you have a good rest of your journey!" and Santa would say "And a Merry Christmas to" fading out "you" barely audible "all..."

And Daddy would come to the bottom of the stairs and say "kids! You'll never guess what just happened!!"

Every year. The same script. Exactly. Every single year.

We'd scamper down and find everything that Santa brought under the tree.

As we got older, it was hilarious but it still never changed even by a syllable. We would find out many years later all of the funny stories about near disasters. Like the year 'Santa' brought us all snow skis. Which 'Santa' stashed at a neighbors house til Christmas Eve. And then said neighbors went on an elongated day trip somewhere and 'Santa' had to break in to their house to get the goods. And another neighbor called the cops.

I was very lucky and privileged and I treasure the memories. I do hope somehow both my Mom and my Dad know how much I appreciated what they did.

Really... ho ho ho

Both of my parents (here we go again letmesaything) grew up in German households with German Christmas traditions which bled over into my growing up family.

We rarely put the tree up much before the week of Christmas. When my Mom was little, the tree was put up by her parents in the parlor behind closed doors on Christmas Eve and she and her brother only saw it after Santa had come and gone. But, Daddy loved the getting of the tree and the decorating of the tree and he loved having helpers. So we were the last in the neighborhood to get it up but we probably had the most fun.

Then after all the cookies were delivered, we went home where Mom was deep into Christmas Eve dinner. I remember beef, mostly but who the heck cared what the menu was? The main attraction was only a few hours away! We ate and cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen and then... is it time yet????... we scampered upstairs to get into the new pajamas the Aunt Etta had sent.

Mom always came up to help us and always always, just as we were nearly totally pajama'd, we'd here the sleigh bells. Big old jangly bells dangled from the wreath on the front door and that's what we'd hear. Then Daddy's big voice would boom out... "Well WELCOME SANTA!!! How nice it is to see you!!!!"

We were quiet, quiet, quiet and we could hear Santa and Daddy talking in the den where the tree was but we could never quite make out what they were saying. But, pretty soon, they'd be near the front door again and Daddy would be saying "Thank you, Santa! I hope you have a good rest of your journey!" and Santa would say "And a Merry Christmas to" fading out "you" barely audible "all..."

And Daddy would come to the bottom of the stairs and say "kids! You'll never guess what just happened!!"

Every year. The same script. Exactly. Every single year.

We'd scamper down and find everything that Santa brought under the tree.

As we got older, it was hilarious but it still never changed even by a syllable. We would find out many years later all of the funny stories about near disasters. Like the year 'Santa' brought us all snow skis. Which 'Santa' stashed at a neighbors house til Christmas Eve. And then said neighbors went on an elongated day trip somewhere and 'Santa' had to break in to their house to get the goods. And another neighbor called the cops.

I was very lucky and privileged and I treasure the memories. I do hope somehow both my Mom and my Dad know how much I appreciated what they did.