It was a clear fall day yesterday, so we decided to go over and check out The Big E, a multi-state fair with vendors from all over New England. The last time I was there, I was probably 12 and never left the games and rides at the Midway, so I wasn't sure if I'd enjoy it.
Within five minutes of entering the site, I accepted the fact that I was not going to see everything. As I scanned the layout of buildings on the posted map, there was no regular pattern to it; it was a place you could get lost in. Cool.
"I want to see bears," I stated, pointing to a display fifty feet away. Having dispensed with the idea of choosing a route, we walked over, paid our dollars, and saw bears. Up close. Cute, fuzzy bear cubs: 1 playing with a toy and 2 zonked out; and a nine foot tall, 1400 lb. Kodiak named Jimmy gnawing on a treat in a separate compartment. I was glad to see the cages and bears were well kept.
After that we wandered through a huge building full of vendors of all kinds: Cutco knives, massagers, miracle mops, food containers, hammocks, whirl pools. There was no organization to the layout of types of products, so it was hard to process everything we breezed by. Outside more distributors and food vendors lined the walkways.
We rounded a corner and saw a stage surrounded by people. Someone was addressing the crowd, but we were behind the speakers so it was hard to make out and the side of the stage blocked our view. As we got closer, I realized the voice was difficult to understand in part due to its thick Spanish accent. In a truly surreal moment, the voice turned out to be Charo's.
After she finished her comedic banter, she introduced some salsa dancers and bounded off stage. The sun was in our eyes so we walked behind the stage to the other side to watch. Charo returned in a different very short sparkly dress and performed with her dancers. Even though this side was in shade, there were lots of picnic tables with their umbrellas up, so it was still hard to see. I walked around to the front and tried to get in the shade of the sound tent with no luck. It wasn't super crowded, but a bunch of short people were lined up in the shade of the tent. Standing in front of any of them would completely block that person's view. My straw hat was hanging on my back to be polite to the people behind me, so I was getting the full brunt of the sun on my right side. I started to expect a Roy Neary burn after another number.
I have to give Charo credit: she was really shaking her moneymaker. She's energetic, plays to the whole crowd, funny, and a talented classical guitarist. She also has a good sense of humor about herself. As she put it, "Cuchi-cuchi showed me the way to the bank."
During another dance interlude, Charo changed into a sparkly pink and white pantsuit so she could sit and play guitar. A group of young (and short) teenage girls were now standing in front of me. None of the short people in the shade had moved. There were a few spots one might have been able to crouch in front of them, but my knees are too shot to be comfortable doing that.
It suddenly dawned on me, I'm going to end up with skin cancer because I don't want to be a jerk. I glanced through the scaffolding behind me and decided if I was blocking anyone's view there was plenty of room for them to move. I put my hat back on angling it to block as much sun as possible. I started scoping the shady areas ahead, but still didn't have it in me to stand directly in front of any of the abundant short people. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more sun, the show was over, and the crowd disbursed after a standing ovation.
From there, we checked out the petting zoo: several goats, a llama, some zebu, ring-tailed lemurs, and a pony. I could've ridden an elephant or a camel, but they looked sad and it just didn't seem right.
Another building was full of farm animals: chicks and chickens, adorable piglets with their mama, more goats, rabbits, and another llama. The Clydesdales were more impressively large in person than they are on tv.
I took a stroll through the Midway for old time's sake. The prizes looked a little better, but the games are as difficult to win as ever. They had all the same rides plus a few bigger scarier ones.
We walked through the Connecticut and Vermont buildings, and saw a couple marching bands perform. It was dinner time and we decided to head out to a sit-down restaurant. As we neared the exit, I stopped.
"Is that the first building we went in?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"I'll be back." We'd passed the machine that analyzes your personality from your signature earlier, and I'd decided to skip it, but now we were about to leave, I changed my mind. I knew somewhere at home, I still had the results from the same machine from when I was a kid. It seemed fitting to see if anything had changed. The multiple file cabinet sized computer with flashing lights also looked too much like EMERAC to pass up.
I knew it was by an entrance of the building, but didn't know which one of the six it was. Of course, I picked the longest possible way to get there because my feet were killing me. I wrote Claire, but it looked all wrong, so I grabbed another sheet, shook out my hands, and wrote my full name in one fluid motion. One of the three large women behind the counter fed the card into the machine and waited as it printed out the results on a dot matrix printer.
Televac says I'm "Always ready for a good time." Right on. If I can track down my young teen results, I'll put up the full results up for comparison.
29 September 2005
Days when the brain's wired differently
There was a big weather shift overnight. Yesterday it was autumn warm, sunny, and clear; today it's overcast, windy, and pouring. The power has flickered a couple times, and it seems my brain has done the same.
Today is one of those days when people keep asking you stupid questions when you've already stated everything you knew very clearly (which makes the redundant follow-ups all the more annoying). Unfortunately those people were my parents at lunch.
I was telling my Dad the latest news from the movers. Two days ago, she'd emailed that my stuff was actually being picked up yesterday (as opposed to last Friday as she'd previously said) and tentatively, it would be delivered tomorrow. The update today said it'll be delivered out of an office closer to here on the last day of the delivery spread next week. They'll call the day before to confirm. It was a brief email, and I'd conveyed all there was to convey, but Dad asked something that I'd just explained.
Mom told me not to be "testy" after I snapped at him. Strangely, being told not to be testy never has a calming effect on me. I looked out the window at the rain and remembered another day a weather shift had disturbed my interactions.
I was shooting a film at a grass airstrip in Panacea, Florida. There had been a few minor hiccups the first few days of production, but the shoot soon fell into a pleasant groove. The director and I were friends with an easy shorthand communication until one morning there was nothing we agreed on. Even when we were trying to convey the same idea, we'd do it so differently we'd misunderstand each other and get further frustrated. The whole crew was tolerating us well but starting to get grumpy. Everything felt wrong about the place.
And then the wind changed. It's not the type of thing I'd generally notice, but after several days on a small airstrip watching the windsocks, I'd become attuned to it.
"Did you feel that?" the director asked.
For the first time all day, I knew just what he was talking about. "Yeah, the wind changed," I replied.
"Yeah. That was weird."
The spell was broken and though we didn't understand it, we felt free of it. We were ourselves again, our shorthand restored, and our crew in good spirits.
As I watched the rain, I conceded to myself that I had been testy to my Dad, so I took a deep breath, and then answered his question evenly, and explained that I had no further information on the topic.
Less than five minutes elapsed before I was annoyed again and further getting on Mom's nerves. I made a comment about not wanting to live amidst ignorant hicks which had a specific context in my mind relating to conversations from yesterday that was clearly missed. Her response was palpable; I felt her energy shift even though I wasn't looking at her directly and knew exactly what she was about to say.
"That'd be better than living by a bunch of snobby bitches," she snapped.
She meant that I was a snobby bitch, but because I'd anticipated her retort, I was completely unmoved by it. What did move me was another stupid misunderstanding two minutes later.
"I'm sorry," Mom said forcefully as she picked up her bowl and left the table. She wasn't apologizing to me, she was apologizing for the fact she couldn't put up with me anymore. I didn't mind. This response was vastly preferable to unintentionally making her cry; if her brain had been in a different place today, that could easily have been the result. I finished the conversation with Dad; he's got a pretty thick skin and isn't fazed by much. Recognizing some mischief in the weather, I felt reassured: it will change and the spell will be broken.
Even as I wrote this last paragraph, the rain stopped and the sun started to break through; I'm feeling better already.
Today is one of those days when people keep asking you stupid questions when you've already stated everything you knew very clearly (which makes the redundant follow-ups all the more annoying). Unfortunately those people were my parents at lunch.
I was telling my Dad the latest news from the movers. Two days ago, she'd emailed that my stuff was actually being picked up yesterday (as opposed to last Friday as she'd previously said) and tentatively, it would be delivered tomorrow. The update today said it'll be delivered out of an office closer to here on the last day of the delivery spread next week. They'll call the day before to confirm. It was a brief email, and I'd conveyed all there was to convey, but Dad asked something that I'd just explained.
Mom told me not to be "testy" after I snapped at him. Strangely, being told not to be testy never has a calming effect on me. I looked out the window at the rain and remembered another day a weather shift had disturbed my interactions.
I was shooting a film at a grass airstrip in Panacea, Florida. There had been a few minor hiccups the first few days of production, but the shoot soon fell into a pleasant groove. The director and I were friends with an easy shorthand communication until one morning there was nothing we agreed on. Even when we were trying to convey the same idea, we'd do it so differently we'd misunderstand each other and get further frustrated. The whole crew was tolerating us well but starting to get grumpy. Everything felt wrong about the place.
And then the wind changed. It's not the type of thing I'd generally notice, but after several days on a small airstrip watching the windsocks, I'd become attuned to it.
"Did you feel that?" the director asked.
For the first time all day, I knew just what he was talking about. "Yeah, the wind changed," I replied.
"Yeah. That was weird."
The spell was broken and though we didn't understand it, we felt free of it. We were ourselves again, our shorthand restored, and our crew in good spirits.
As I watched the rain, I conceded to myself that I had been testy to my Dad, so I took a deep breath, and then answered his question evenly, and explained that I had no further information on the topic.
Less than five minutes elapsed before I was annoyed again and further getting on Mom's nerves. I made a comment about not wanting to live amidst ignorant hicks which had a specific context in my mind relating to conversations from yesterday that was clearly missed. Her response was palpable; I felt her energy shift even though I wasn't looking at her directly and knew exactly what she was about to say.
"That'd be better than living by a bunch of snobby bitches," she snapped.
She meant that I was a snobby bitch, but because I'd anticipated her retort, I was completely unmoved by it. What did move me was another stupid misunderstanding two minutes later.
"I'm sorry," Mom said forcefully as she picked up her bowl and left the table. She wasn't apologizing to me, she was apologizing for the fact she couldn't put up with me anymore. I didn't mind. This response was vastly preferable to unintentionally making her cry; if her brain had been in a different place today, that could easily have been the result. I finished the conversation with Dad; he's got a pretty thick skin and isn't fazed by much. Recognizing some mischief in the weather, I felt reassured: it will change and the spell will be broken.
Even as I wrote this last paragraph, the rain stopped and the sun started to break through; I'm feeling better already.
28 September 2005
Geek slip
I was standing in front of a baffling array of toothbrushes in Target this evening, and when I tried to say it was "mind boggling," what came out was "mind blogging."
There's much more to relate from today's excursion (as you may sense above), but I'm too beat to do any of it justice now. Until tomorrow then...
There's much more to relate from today's excursion (as you may sense above), but I'm too beat to do any of it justice now. Until tomorrow then...
27 September 2005
When ordering goes horribly awry
My parents were each separately surprised when I suggested Friendly's for dinner. Life in absolutes is easier to make sense of: I understand that, but sometimes I'm up for restaurants I don't always feel like eating at. Friendly's is nearby, but the service is hit or miss, and it's the eatery I feel most likely to run into people from high school at. I don't always feel up for that, but today a turkey club supermelt with the bacon burnt sounded pretty good.
As we sat in the narrow booth, I noticed the big Reese's Pieces Sundae promotional photo on the near side of the triangular cardboard display on the table. It's been over two decades, but I remember the last time I had one.
I was between 5 and 7. My parents, brother, best friend, and I had been out hiking all afternoon. Crowded into a single booth, we eagerly poured over the dessert menu. I remember asking what the difference was between a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and a Reese's Pieces; I was having trouble deciding. In those days (and for years to come) I hated ordering for myself, but since I hadn't decided yet when the waitress returned, I was on my own.
"What would you like, Claire?" my Mom prompted.
"A Reese's penis sundae." Everyone in earshot started to laugh. With a heavy blush consuming my cheeks, I quickly and carefully corrected myself, "Pieces. Reese's PIECES Sundae."
As if that weren't bad enough, I soon discovered that Reese's Pieces were not that good, certainly not as much like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups as my Dad had lead me to believe.
As we sat in the narrow booth, I noticed the big Reese's Pieces Sundae promotional photo on the near side of the triangular cardboard display on the table. It's been over two decades, but I remember the last time I had one.
I was between 5 and 7. My parents, brother, best friend, and I had been out hiking all afternoon. Crowded into a single booth, we eagerly poured over the dessert menu. I remember asking what the difference was between a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and a Reese's Pieces; I was having trouble deciding. In those days (and for years to come) I hated ordering for myself, but since I hadn't decided yet when the waitress returned, I was on my own.
"What would you like, Claire?" my Mom prompted.
"A Reese's penis sundae." Everyone in earshot started to laugh. With a heavy blush consuming my cheeks, I quickly and carefully corrected myself, "Pieces. Reese's PIECES Sundae."
As if that weren't bad enough, I soon discovered that Reese's Pieces were not that good, certainly not as much like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups as my Dad had lead me to believe.
2 on, 2 off, 1 on
I did some walking on Friday and Saturday, but then it was cold and pouring the next two days, so I reverted to my half-assed incorporate some stretches into the day approach. I'm proud of myself because today with the sun shining, the sky incredibly blue with some puffy white clouds, I got my ass back out there. The wet leaves haven't mildewed yet, so it smells like fall.
Last week, I felt conspicuous walking a few laps up and down my short dead-end incline, but no longer. We all live off the same popular road with no sidewalk or breakdown lane; people always drive fast on it, and many parts force you to walk in the road. Sure there's lots of places I could drive to and then walk, but until my stuff arrives from storage, I'm homebound; besides, I'm less likely to go walking if I have to drive somewhere to do it.
I did three laps today plus three up-downs on a flight of stairs. As I was about to get some OJ, Dad called down for me to move my car. I'd already pulled it out of the garage so he could clear some space to store the window A/Cs, but now that he was ready to take his out of the window, he was afraid of dropping it on my car. I walked back downstairs, moved my car, walked upstairs, got some watered-down OJ, and then walked upstairs another flight to help him. In the process of taking two window A/Cs to the garage, I added four more down-ups of flights of stairs. Rraahh!
Last week, I felt conspicuous walking a few laps up and down my short dead-end incline, but no longer. We all live off the same popular road with no sidewalk or breakdown lane; people always drive fast on it, and many parts force you to walk in the road. Sure there's lots of places I could drive to and then walk, but until my stuff arrives from storage, I'm homebound; besides, I'm less likely to go walking if I have to drive somewhere to do it.
I did three laps today plus three up-downs on a flight of stairs. As I was about to get some OJ, Dad called down for me to move my car. I'd already pulled it out of the garage so he could clear some space to store the window A/Cs, but now that he was ready to take his out of the window, he was afraid of dropping it on my car. I walked back downstairs, moved my car, walked upstairs, got some watered-down OJ, and then walked upstairs another flight to help him. In the process of taking two window A/Cs to the garage, I added four more down-ups of flights of stairs. Rraahh!
26 September 2005
Delivery spread- does that come with crackers?
Well, this is almost worse than the typical UPS it'll-be-delivered-between-8 AM-and-9 PM spiel. Now that I'm in the delivery spread, my stuff from Florida may arrive any time during the next 10 days. OK yeah, that is worse than UPS. Last week the coordinator had emailed that she'd have a delivery date for me by end of business day Friday- meaning last Friday. When I emailed today she still didn't have it. In theory she'll get info from the driver via dispatch so she can tell me a specific day. In theory the driver has to call me 24 hours in advance. I'm not counting on either.
Suddenly I feel unprepared for all this stuff to arrive. I keep remembering more of what's coming: a chest of drawers with clothes still in it, 4 large wood crates, my disassembled desk, and a bed that's not even mine. My hope had been to weed a great deal of it out to the trash or Salvation Army, but I'm starting to realize there's still going to be a lot of stuff left.
Suddenly I feel unprepared for all this stuff to arrive. I keep remembering more of what's coming: a chest of drawers with clothes still in it, 4 large wood crates, my disassembled desk, and a bed that's not even mine. My hope had been to weed a great deal of it out to the trash or Salvation Army, but I'm starting to realize there's still going to be a lot of stuff left.
tip of the week
Thought I'd share some musical awesomeness for this week's tip. Check out This Business of Art by Tegan and Sara.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)