Last night, I went to bed at 5:30. Yeah, like as in evening news 5:30. I was out until about two, and then I got up for an hour. I watched
Project Runway. Then I went to bed, and I slept until eight. So I got a total of thirteen and a half hours of sleep.
And all that without a single freaky dream. It’s insane. I wonder if I can stay up for Jeopardy tonight?
You know what sucks? When the power goes out. You know what sucks even harder? When the power goes out, and you’re in a new apartment, and you don’t remember where you put the flashlight, you can barely find the lighter to light the candles, and you’re all alone in a pitch black apartment with nothing to do.
Last night around 7:30, the power went out at The Rock. I was in the middle of watching last week’s Project Runway episode that I missed. (That’s a story in and of itself.) Then all of sudden, everything went out with a flicker. A moment later, the power came back, and I thought I was back to my SJP enhanced life. But nnnooooo, it went right back out. And it stayed out. FOR THREE HOURS!
Pretty much everything I own needs to be plugged into a functional outlet in order to be entertaining. The exception is my large collection of books. (Still in boxes, thank you very much.) Seriously, though, I don’t know how people managed to read by candlelight. There was no way. Of course, the candles I have are much more about wafting froo-froo scents than they are about casting a decent light.
So, I called my mom. She rattled off a list of possibly entertaining activities for a dark evening. Make cocoa – I don’t have any cocoa. Make tea – all my tea is caffeinated, and I didn’t want to be up all night. Unpack the books – I said entertaining. Listen to the radio – I don’t have a battery powered radio. All of her suggestions just reminded me how lame my apartment is. It was a noble effort on her part, but it really wasn’t too helpful.
The power finally came back on at 10:30. I got to see a little Sex and the City before I went back to sleep, but alas, they were done rerunning P.R., so hopefully I’ll be able to catch the end later.
Overall, I would say last night was very lame.
According to BBC News, Jermaine has been saying that the family band, including Michael, is planning a tour for 2008.
Would you go? How much would you be willing to fork over for a ticket?
I’m not sure what I think.
I’ve been having some pretty freaky dreams over the last few months. I chalk it up to stress. This one pretty much takes the cake. I had this dream on Thanksgiving evening:
I was standing at the window at night, and there were two owls in a tree outside. I opened the window, and one of the owls said “how” instead of “hoo“. I was confused, so I repeated it back, and then the owl started talking to me. He was saying, “that was really good. You caught on that something was wrong.” He came inside, and turned into Santa Claus. So, I was hanging out with Santa, and some other people were in my apartment, because it turned out that my apartment has a basement where my office was. It was time for me to work, so I went downstairs, but I was still in pajamas. I realized that it was time to get dressed, so I went upstairs to my apartment, but I kept getting interrupted. It turns out that I was running a Honda campaign, but the customers who saw the ad were coming to me for information, instead of going to a dealership. They were asking me to explain the differences between a Civic and an Accord. But, first I was talking to some customers without any pants on, then I went downstairs, and I had no shirt on. Finally I got a work shirt on, but still had the pajama bottoms. It took a while of me going back and forth before I finally got properly dressed. All the while, Santa was still hanging out, and I was still selling Hondas. Then, Santa tried to seduce me. He was kissing me! Then it was like I suddenly remembered that I had a boyfriend, and I told him. Finally, Santa left, and everyone else had gone, too. I was by myself, and my boyfriend showed up. We were sitting there having a conversation, but in the back of my mind, I was trying to think whether I had to tell him that I had made out with Santa. That was it.
Crazy, isn’t it?
I just got the weekly newsletter from the Red Devil Lounge, announcing that Black 47 is booked. Unfortunately, the gig isn’t until March, but tickets go on sale this weekend.
Black 47 is a political Irish-American band from New York that I have loved since the nineties. I have even read the singer’s memoir, “Green Suede Shoes”.
The thing is, I’ve never actually seen them live. I had intended to go out to New York a day early for my business trip so that I could catch their weekly gig, until I found out how expensive a hotel room in Manhattan could be on a Saturday night. I had every intention of going to see them last time they were in SF, but no one was interested in going with me, and so I caved and went to Pier 23 instead.
This time I’m going. Even if I have to go alone.
When I was in England this last spring, visiting with family and spending a few days in London, the greatest thing I discovered was their jacket potatoes. This is popular pub faire. It’s a baked potato stuffed with something. The thing that makes it unusual, to American standards, is what they stuff it with. This isn’t your butter, sour cream, cheese, bacon bits, and chives potato that you would come across at a steakhouse. In the pubs we visited, they stuffed their spuds with things like beans, coleslaw, and tuna salad (which they just call tuna and mayonnaise and has sweetcorn). I just loved them.
So, I’ve made a few jacket potatoes since I’ve been back. The other night, I made one for dinner, and had enough left over to bring for lunch today. The thing is, I’m trying to take the pesco out of of my pesco-vegetarianism, so I wasn’t down for the tuna and the coleslaw isn’t quite the same here as it is in England. I decided to try to add something from the other side of my family to this Brit dish. The other side of my family are Okies from Bakersfield. There’s this salad that one of the aunties used to make that is essentially like potato salad, only substitute sweet peas for the potatoes. It’s scrumptious.
So, the Okie-fied Vegetarian Brit is having a Sweet Pea Salad Jacket Potato.
Every night at the new place, The Rock, I sleep a little better. I’m still freaking tired, though, and I am considering taking a nap under my desk. Just a little one. Just a 20 minute power nap.
Things at The Rock are coming along. Last night I enlisted J4 (he lifts heavy things) to come with me to Tar-jay. I managed to pick up an essential item off of The List. I got a serious shelf unit that’s going to serve as my pantry. The kitchen at The Rock is minuscule, to say the least. There’s just one cupboard. I need more space than that, especially as I am planning to be eating in a lot more. Saving money on food is good, ’cause then I can still go out sometimes. (Out? What’s that?)
Anyway, the shelf was supposed to be on sale for $29.99, but unbeknownst to me, only the black was on sale. Not seeing the black on the shelf, but seeing a chrome one, I figured it made no difference. I was a little bit unnerved when it rang up at $59.99 at the register. So, I brought up the difference, the checker called the manager over, determined that it was the wrong one, found someone who confirmed that they had the right one, did I want it?, yes I did, running to go get the right one out of the back. You can see how this quick little run over to Target quickly devolved into chaos. Well, to my joyous surprise, when the correct shelf was finally brought up to the register, the store manager rang me up, and took an additional 10% off. I saved an additional three dollars! Hooray Target!