Prepoceros

Did I ever tell you that I’m getting a dog? Because I am. A dog or a cat. I need something small and warm that I can take care of and love and cuddle with.*

I’ve never had a pet bigger than a hamster, so I don’t know quite what I’m looking for, and this is a big-time, long-term sort of commitment, so I’d like to do it right.

I live in an yard-less apartment that would drive a big hairy galumpher of a hound crazy, so I need a small dog (or a cat), and I’d like one that’s low-key, not spastic or yippy, can sleep through the night, etc. I am *not* a high-strung person, so living with a nervous little dog would drive me nuts.

Right now I’m thinking dachshund or cat (I don’t know what varieties cats come in—they all look the same to me except for those weird nekkid ones). Anything else I should consider? Is *your* dog small and chill? Does it have puppies, or maybe brothers and sisters? Remember, cuteness counts.

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* I’ve tried to reinterpret this sentence in a dirty and/or humorous way, but I got nothin’. Anybody?

Wendy and I spent most of yesterday at the Nutcracker Market, an annual “holiday shopping jamboree”/fundraiser for the Houston Ballet. If you’ve never been, it’s hard to describe. Intense? Enormous? Hilarious?

For an idea of the scale of this thing, take a look at this map of the market. That section of tables at the top is about the size of an average auditorium. Hundreds of shops, and we hit at least ninety percent of them (the only section I remember not getting to was the aisle next to the pewterware, top right).

I can think of few more entertaining ways to spend six hours than wandering up and down aisles of Christmas-y crap (and some non-crap), stuffing my face with free food samples, getting slightly sloshed on overpriced wine, and making snarky comments about other people’s outfits. If I’d thought to bring my camera phone, I would have taken many, many pictures of these malfunctions to share with you. The most common offenses were impractical footwear selection, dressing inappropriately for one’s age (whether that age be 12 or 50) and sparkle abuse (*any* sparkle on ordinary walking-around clothes is too much sparkle, IMO.)

The booths themselves ran the gamut from classy to tacky to scrumptious to ridiculous. One of my favorites was a shop from Nashville selling “holiday fashions for ladies and European gifts.” Hats and cloaks and shawls and skirts, all of it cheap cheap cheap, with friendly salesfolks to boot. I bought this adorable hat ($15!)

and we both bought shawls/cloaks/wearable blanket things. Were we a wee bit tipsy at that point? Yes. Do I regret buying a hat and cloak, when I’ve never in my life worn either? Hell no. Forty bucks well spent.

Because we’re nerds, we spent a good bit of time translating the Latin on the manuscripts these folks were selling. The lady running the booth kept pulling manuscripts from the stack we were reading to give to people who actually showed an interest in buying them. I guess she didn’t want our help fixing the incomplete (and occasionally incorrect) translations attached to the pieces. Whatever, lady. This was two stops after the wine booth, so I didn’t much care.

Another highlight was the cherry people’s booth. I like cherries as much as the next person, but oh. my. god. these cherries were phenomenal. Not only were the cherries themselves delicious, but they’d managed to add them to just about any foodstuff you can imagine, and none of it bombed. Dried cherries? Been there. Cherry preserves? Done that. Cherry salsa? Weird, but conceivable. Cherry mustard? Cherry pepper jelly? Cherry BBQ sauce? Knocked ‘em all out of the park. Un-frickin-believable. They probably had twenty different products out for sampling, and we tried them all. We said we’d swing back by before we left and buy something, but we forgot. I feel bad about freeloading on their cherry-infused generosity, but I’m going to absolve myself of guilt by telling you to go right now and buy all their stuff. Here’s another link to the site if you don’t want to bother scrolling up. Quality cherry goo, I promise.

As for losers, there wasn’t any one booth I can single out as being particularly awful; many were tacky, kitschy, or way too pink, but not horrifyingly so. The worst part about many of them were the names. It’s a Girl Thing!, Funke Flopz (flip-flopz, that is), Scribbles ‘n Doodles, MIS-TEE-V-US, Bunnies and Bows, Patchwork ‘N Petals, Klassy Kidz, Swankie Blankie…ok, I actually like “Swankie Blankie.” I think that’s adorable. But the rest? Gag me.

One phenomenon I found myself unexpectedly offended by was the abundance of Christian paraphernalia, much of it utterly tasteless. I know that Texas lies deep in the heart of Jesus country, and I’m not offended by the *presence* of so many crosses, but I do feel that a religious symbol should be treated with more respect than, say, a drawing of a reindeer, or a picture of your cat. In particular, a crucifix should not be fashioned into a throw pillow, a yard sign, a birthday-candle holder, a light switch, a cutting board, or a fist-sized necklace slide, nor should it sparkle, flash, or light up in any way. Gross.

Does this sort of thing offend Christians, or do they just avert their eyes whenever they drive past that house with the light-up plastic Jesus in the front yard and the crucifx wind chime?

In a similar vein, I thought it went without saying that nativity scenes should consist only of people (and possibly sheep). Baby Jesus as a moose? NOT CUTE. Tacky tacky tacky.

But on to the main event: the food. According to the program there were forty-five food booths, and all of them offered free samples. Most were delicious. Apart from a single Twizzler pull-n-peel for breakfast, I ate *nothing* yesterday that wasn’t a free food booth sample (except for the wine, which, sadly, cost money). No lunch, no dinner, just a six-hour-long gourmet snack. Mmmmmmm.

I present, to inspire jealousy, a partial list, in approximate order of ingestion, of the things vendors were throwing at me yesterday. I bought none of them. (I did buy a jar of olive-something spread for my parents, but I relied on Wendy’s taste-testing in that case, as I can’t stand olives.)

1. Honey, served on an apple slice with feta cheese and a blueberry. Yummy except for the wax, which we were still picking out of our teeth five booths later.
2. Lemon-pesto spread
3. Artichoke & garlic spread
4. Cherry candy
5. Dried cherries
6. Cherry mustard
7. Cherry BBQ sauce
8. Cherry salsa
9. Cherry almond preserves
10. Plain cherry preserves
11. A chocolate-covered dried cherry (I’m not kidding about this cherry shit. Go order one of everything right now, while you’re thinking about it.)
12. Tortilla soup
13. Cranberry turkey
14. Summer sausage
15. Pinto bean soup
16. Chicken alfredo
17. Chili
18. White wine
19. Chocolate truffle cake
20. “Bumbleberry” pie
21. Popcorn something something
22. Whole roasted garlic
23. Tomatillo white chocolate sauce
24. Tomato-something soup
25. “Spinach Finach” dip
26. “Veggie Weggie” dip (This place had several other dips with similarly ridiculous names, all of which I tasted.)
27. “Double Dutch” hot chocolate
28. More wine
29. “SXUL” chocolate
30. Apple cider
31. Cream cheese with nutty slime on top (Several booths featured similar dishes. None of them were any good.)
32. White chocolate bark
33. Key lime white chocolate bark
34. Peach salsa
35. Garlic-onion dip
36. Shrimp-something dip
37. Amaretto pecan honeybutter, on a warm biscuit

Not bad for an entry fee of nine bucks, eh? Some of the free samples were duds, but there were enough amazing ones to keep me going all day. I have Thai food in my refrigerator, but I haven’t felt like eating any of it until just now.

You bet your ass I’m going back next year. I hope the cherry people feel the same way.

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Let me know if you see the pictures doing weird things, like appearing off-center or extending beyond the text. I’ve wrestled them into submission as they appear on my computer, but I’m bad at doing the internets.

I’ve been amusing myself tonight with a few self-referential logic puzzles. I solved this one in about half an hour—difficult enough to be interesting, but still solvable in a reasonable amount of time.

This one also looks scrumptious. I’m saving it for later.

I spent the rest of the evening working on non-self-referential logic puzzles: half a test’s worth of LSAT questions. Dork with a capital D *and* a capital ORK.

That little sign the apartment people have up to tell everyone that rent is due on the third of the month? That’s for real. Sure, you can pay it at 12:30 AM on the fourth, but it’ll cost you fifty bucks.

Well, that was a looooong day. I’ve slept for two of the last forty-ish hours.

I almost voted. I’d forgotten it was election day until I heard them talking about it on the radio on my way home at 5:00. Then I had to find my voter registration card and drive all the way up to my parents’ house, but by then it was hardcore rush hour and I didn’t make it by 7:00. But it looks like Prop 2 passed by an overwhelming margin anyway, so it’s not like it would’ve mattered. Booooo.

Major shit went down today. Details after I get caught up on sleep.

Oh, and I figured out where the ferret came from a couple nights ago. As I walked into the house of a tutoring student I had both today and last Sunday, her little chihuahua came running up to me and I thought, “omg, you’re the ferret.”

And now I’m falling asleep sitting up. This chair has virtually no back support, so it’s rather painful for me to jerk bacj awajk wyet. .

Ok, um, seriously? Did I just type that? I was about to hit publish; I think I mean to say “jerk back awake.”

Last night I was grumpy, but two hours of sleep later, I’m so overwhelmingly happy that I just might explode. There’s something about starting my day several hours before everyone else does that makes me feel giddy. It’s not something I get to experience often.

Also, I’m glad they fixed the lights in the parking garage last week, because there is NOBODY here. Creepy. For maybe thirty seconds, I regretted my lack of foresight in not selecting sensible footwear in case I had to run from any rapists or muggers, but there weren’t any and I still get to wear cute shoes haha I totally win.

I got to work at 9:00 this morning for the first time in…a while, and there was (almost) no one there. It freaked me out, like…is it Sunday? Was today a holiday? Did I forget daylight savings? But no, everyone was just sick or on vacation or passed out at the dentist’s office. I got to be like five different people today—fun fun.

As for all those things I was supposed to do, I finished 3, skipped 2 (it was optional), and was halfway through 1 by the time I left the office at 10:30*…after I’d told my boss I’d have it done by 2:00 this afternoon, after I’d told her I’d have it done Friday, after I’d told her I’d have it done last Monday.

So, who thinks I’ll wake up early enough to have it done before she starts checking her email tomorrow morning (at like 6:00 New York time)? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

I should totally start counting the words I write in my (paper) journal as WriMo words. On days like this one I write ’til my hand cramps up, and the official word count is still stuck at zero.

Last night I dreamed I was teaching an after-school math class, and there was a ferret in the class. I was like, dude, this math is way over the ferret’s head; he’s at least going to need an easier book. But no, the ferret’s parents had paid good money for him to be in my class, so I had to teach him just like I did the other kids. I started to feel bad for him because we only had this little bitty hamster-size cage in which to put him, and he gave me the most pitiful look as I locked him in. But when I tried to put his book in there, too, he ate it, so then I didn’t feel so bad any more.

There was another dream in which a girl from my high school class had died, and I kept finding her body and carrying it back to somebody over and over and over again, and they always swore me to secrecy. Some secret police or something. Then there was this weird elevator that went sideways and sometimes around like a rollercoaster and a hot spring with vinegar instead of water and it was all in this underground hotel and it was creepy and they wouldn’t let me out. I wish I could remember all the details of this one, but I like the ferret dream better, anyway.

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* No, I didn’t work 13.5 hours straight. I taught a three-hour LSAT class in the evening, enveloped by two-ish hours of driving (1h40m there, 35m back—I hate teaching in Clear Lake).

I had a relaxing weekend. The November SAT was yesterday morning, so I only had one lesson the whole weekend, which is two or three fewer than I usually have. It was lovely.

This afternoon I went to the symphony (for the first time in…a few years, I think) with Wendy and Michael. Again, lovely. I got to dress up and everything.

The downside of all this relaxing is, of course, that Sunday night absolutely blows. I’m sleepy and feel like I ought to be in bed, but by 3:30 tomorrow afternoon I must have done the following:

1. Written and formatted 10 ACT questions and explanations. This is three or four hours of work, at least. Also, it was technically due two days ago.
2. Written a three-page paper comparing characters from two Narnia books, only one of which I’ve read.
3. Prepped tomorrow evening’s LSAT class.

I haven’t started any of these things. Not even a little bit. It will take, I’m guessing, 8–10 hours to get it all done, IF I work super-efficiently and don’t get distracted (by, say, my blog). There are approximately 16 hours between now and 3:30. It would be nice if I could also sleep, shower, and eat sometime during those 16 hours as well.

OMG this is going to be so much fun. I might pee myself.

All this writing means I’ll be blogging less (interestingly) for the next twenty-seven days. Apologies in advance.

I don’t want to clutter up the main page with all the minutiae of my MyNoWriMo experience, so I’ve made it its own mini-blog. You can get to it from the sidebar link under Pages.

I’ve been keeping it in Word so far, but I thought I might as well share. I have a spreadsheet, too, which I’ll post if I can find an easy way to share it. WriMoBlog isn’t actually a blog right now, just a page with text on it, but I’m extra sleepy tonight and don’t want to be bothering with templates and all that. Content first, prettiness later.

Six hundred and two words. That’s fewer than 2000. It’s fewer than 1000, even. Yesterday started out well—I knocked out the first three hundred words in the early morning before I went to sleep—but ended badly, with me staring at the screen for an hour before crashing on the couch.*

Today wasn’t much better. I wrote 100 words or so before I went to work, then another hundred when I got home at around 10:30…and then I played some Spider. And now all of a sudden it’s three in the morning and I have class in five hours I hate you Spider I hate you I hate you I hate myself for dragging your stupid cards around until my wrists start tingling and I have to come whine about it on my goddamn blog.

Today was going really well, too; just this morning I was thinking about how long it had been since I’d lain on the floor and stared at the carpet for hours at a time, and how lovely it was not to do that any more. On the way to my lesson tonight I wrote most of an “omg I’m happy today I love my life” post in my head. But then I got home and did all the things I do that make me want to stab myself in the face. Now I won’t get nearly enough sleep, so I’ll be pissy tomorrow and tired tomorrow night. I HATE not getting all my sleep. Uuuuuuuuugh.

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* The upside of falling asleep on the couch is that, as always, I had a whole string of fantastic dreams. I’ve been remembering them bit by bit all day long, and it’s made my day quite entertaining.

Well, except for that one dream where I was was wandering through this huge maze of a hospital because I was dying of something, and I needed to find the department where my doctor was working so that I could get my surgery or whatever. I think it was also a science museum, and people kept trying to get me to hush, and I kept trying to tell them that no, really, I was dying, and if they would just tell me how to find this one particular room number that would be lovely. But this movie star I’d never heard of just went on explaining some crap about the atmosphere to me and I was like I don’t care about the stupid atmosphere because I NEED MY INTESTINES FIXED AND THIS IS NOT HELPING. That one kinda sucked.