weekend roundup: lists, food, and other things
So it seems that no matter what hilarious giggle-inducing shit horvendile and I make up out of clear thin cold Alaskan air to amuse ourselves, it will manage to be trumped by reality.
Seriously. While we kept ourselves busy all weekend deconstructing Cupcake's sexy schoolmarm vibe and vast leadership potential, we weren't paying much attention to the news, mainly because we were also doing other hilarious things like attending local fires with lots of emergency vehicles, watching hurricanes when we weren't watching Monk, learning all about how Moses was the proto-Jesus, discovering the true composition of manna, bathing with light-up soap, putting Stuff On My Cat, and stuff in the Budgiedome, recalling and revivifying our mutual fondness for the quotable quotes of Dan Quayle and several Reagan appointees, and eating ice cream, cheese steaks, pancakes, bacon, prosciutto-mozzarella rolls, and more bacon. So little did I know, until after Gordon left with Andrew's antiquated monitor and I turned on the RNC television coverage, that another shitstorm of rumors (which I had seen alluded to, but then summarily dismissed by "serious" news sources online for the previous twelve hours) had in fact exploded around our Cupcake. This afternoon's media revelations were wayfar beyond anything we could or would make up - mainly because neither of us would wish this perfect media storm on any bewildered seventeen-year-old. Welcome to the klieg spotlights in the lower forty-eight, Palin family.
As is typical when we are together, we spent the weekend wondering and then determining answers to many things. First, and by far most important, was this question: what foodstuffs are the other candidates and principal non-nominees represented by? We decided Obama is a carob pod - since apparently he's not Muslim, not Christian, not experienced, not black (enough), not white (enough), not American (enough), we expect he's just an approximation of chocolate as well. I think Joe Biden might be a kielbasa - nothing subtle there, substantial, unpretentious, and working-class friendly. But something tells me he also could be a big crisp pickle. As for McCain, he could be prune danish or just straight prune juice, but I'm leaning toward salt and vinegar potato chips. Bill Clinton's obviously a waffle, but I don't have a handle on Hillary. If she's a pastry, she's nothing light, airy or cute; I'm thinking she's something solid and sensible with a little sweet spice, perhaps lebkuchen.
And John Edwards? What a doughnut.
We also helpfully made a list of name suggestions for Cupcake's future children, or perhaps grandchildren, including: Field, Calc, Wind, Moose, Slush, Log, Oil, Sleet, Bow, and Bridge. And while we were in the list-maven mood, we devised two entire sets of future seasons' hurricane names, one comprised exclusively of Disney characters and the other populated by denizens of the Buffyverse.
For some reason, we also needed to discover the correct pronunciation of Tagalog, what Billy Ray Cyrus' (and more importantly, Hannah Montana's) political leanings are, what the ancient Roman diet consisted of (dormice!) and whether or not we can buy more light-up soap online, as well as making up terms like philotherist and Vibrator Transmitted Diseases, so we did spend a lot of time googling stuff. But I'm glad I had someone who could come and play with me when my hand doesn't work, because it did prevent the boredom of a long weekend that otherwise I would likely have spent in nothing except occupational therapy exercises, web-building, reading blog hysteria related to Cupcake's progeny, and watching Teaching Company videos and hurricane coverage.
Gordon's presence also prevented my fretting overmuch about the hand, which has not been behaving itself after a peculiar incident with the electrical stimulation device at Friday's therapy session. I'm hoping the pain and apparent decline in mobility is just a coincidental healing-stage transition, and not a re-injury. All I know is, it felt much better (less pain/discomfort and more mobility) on Wednesday and Thursday than it does now. I'd have given it about a 2 on pain, a 5 on mobility, and a 2 on top joint/fingertip tensile strength then; now it feels like about a 5 on pain, 2 on mobility, and a 0 on tensile strength. I am NOT a happy camper.
I have an appointment at 9:15 am tomorrow, and it takes me 1.5 hours to get the wake-up round of hand exercises and meds out of the way and myself out of the house, as well as another 25 minutes to get there, so I'd better get to bed now. Ciao.
ETA: Gordon is a doughnut too. My computer does so have Word.
Seriously. While we kept ourselves busy all weekend deconstructing Cupcake's sexy schoolmarm vibe and vast leadership potential, we weren't paying much attention to the news, mainly because we were also doing other hilarious things like attending local fires with lots of emergency vehicles, watching hurricanes when we weren't watching Monk, learning all about how Moses was the proto-Jesus, discovering the true composition of manna, bathing with light-up soap, putting Stuff On My Cat, and stuff in the Budgiedome, recalling and revivifying our mutual fondness for the quotable quotes of Dan Quayle and several Reagan appointees, and eating ice cream, cheese steaks, pancakes, bacon, prosciutto-mozzarella rolls, and more bacon. So little did I know, until after Gordon left with Andrew's antiquated monitor and I turned on the RNC television coverage, that another shitstorm of rumors (which I had seen alluded to, but then summarily dismissed by "serious" news sources online for the previous twelve hours) had in fact exploded around our Cupcake. This afternoon's media revelations were wayfar beyond anything we could or would make up - mainly because neither of us would wish this perfect media storm on any bewildered seventeen-year-old. Welcome to the klieg spotlights in the lower forty-eight, Palin family.
As is typical when we are together, we spent the weekend wondering and then determining answers to many things. First, and by far most important, was this question: what foodstuffs are the other candidates and principal non-nominees represented by? We decided Obama is a carob pod - since apparently he's not Muslim, not Christian, not experienced, not black (enough), not white (enough), not American (enough), we expect he's just an approximation of chocolate as well. I think Joe Biden might be a kielbasa - nothing subtle there, substantial, unpretentious, and working-class friendly. But something tells me he also could be a big crisp pickle. As for McCain, he could be prune danish or just straight prune juice, but I'm leaning toward salt and vinegar potato chips. Bill Clinton's obviously a waffle, but I don't have a handle on Hillary. If she's a pastry, she's nothing light, airy or cute; I'm thinking she's something solid and sensible with a little sweet spice, perhaps lebkuchen.
And John Edwards? What a doughnut.
We also helpfully made a list of name suggestions for Cupcake's future children, or perhaps grandchildren, including: Field, Calc, Wind, Moose, Slush, Log, Oil, Sleet, Bow, and Bridge. And while we were in the list-maven mood, we devised two entire sets of future seasons' hurricane names, one comprised exclusively of Disney characters and the other populated by denizens of the Buffyverse.
For some reason, we also needed to discover the correct pronunciation of Tagalog, what Billy Ray Cyrus' (and more importantly, Hannah Montana's) political leanings are, what the ancient Roman diet consisted of (dormice!) and whether or not we can buy more light-up soap online, as well as making up terms like philotherist and Vibrator Transmitted Diseases, so we did spend a lot of time googling stuff. But I'm glad I had someone who could come and play with me when my hand doesn't work, because it did prevent the boredom of a long weekend that otherwise I would likely have spent in nothing except occupational therapy exercises, web-building, reading blog hysteria related to Cupcake's progeny, and watching Teaching Company videos and hurricane coverage.
Gordon's presence also prevented my fretting overmuch about the hand, which has not been behaving itself after a peculiar incident with the electrical stimulation device at Friday's therapy session. I'm hoping the pain and apparent decline in mobility is just a coincidental healing-stage transition, and not a re-injury. All I know is, it felt much better (less pain/discomfort and more mobility) on Wednesday and Thursday than it does now. I'd have given it about a 2 on pain, a 5 on mobility, and a 2 on top joint/fingertip tensile strength then; now it feels like about a 5 on pain, 2 on mobility, and a 0 on tensile strength. I am NOT a happy camper.
I have an appointment at 9:15 am tomorrow, and it takes me 1.5 hours to get the wake-up round of hand exercises and meds out of the way and myself out of the house, as well as another 25 minutes to get there, so I'd better get to bed now. Ciao.
ETA: Gordon is a doughnut too. My computer does so have Word.