flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

November 21, 2006

Never Gonna Fall in Love Again

So, as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve taken to listening to XM110 (the greatest hits of the last 1000 years) while I drive. It usually calms me and has an added benefit of not getting songs stuck in my head. Usually.

Today, however, they were playing Rachmaninov’s second symphony.

I don’t know which movement – either second or third, because it wasn’t first or last – but one of the movements’ theme was stolen by Eric Carmen. It totally stinks, because I couldn’t listen to the symphony without hearing that song (kinda like when a certain Chopin prelude evokes Barry Manilow), and “Never Gonna Fall In Love Again” is now stuck in my head.




November 05, 2006

Stinky’s New Etymology

Stinky has decided to rename his stuffed animals.

Teddy has become Dot.
Rasputin the Rhino is now John.
Polar Bear has the unfortunate appellation of Cock.

We found this out when putting the boys to bed tonight. All of the sudden, Sean was demanding: “Timmy, give me Cock!!”

I’ve convinced him that we need a different name for Polar Bear. He’s called Will now. I suppose I should be thankful he didn’t pick Dick. (and trying to figure out where he’s hearing these names!)



November 03, 2006

School Pix

When I was a kid, we did not get “class” pictures. I know that some schools did. We did not.

I really wish we did.

We got Stinky’s kindergarten photo yesterday. It’s absolutely perfect. He’s such a goofball. (Shall send it with some cloggers when the round-to-it I ordered from Ebay comes.) However, his goofballishness is only relative to the other kids in the class. Man, some of the pictures are real doozies! And they all mess their hair up! So, when Stinky gets embarrassed by the picture, we can point out that he was one of eighteen dweebs.



Why Are Goodbyes So Hard?

I’m not a very good friend. I don’t have close friends; I never have had.

But for some reason, I have a very hard time letting go. John says it’s a loyalty thing.

At strange times, like when I’m running, or in the shower, or just on the edge of sleep, I find my thoughts drifting to the past and people I don’t see anymore. I make the oldster effort of keeping in touch through Christmas cards (I believe Lucia was the one who commented to me that this means we’re old: we keep in touch only at the holidays). I even make an effort to email once in a while. But somehow, I still feel a poignant sense of loss.

I know that friends from the past have little in common with me now. We’ve all moved on. Yet there is this part of me that is incredibly sad that I haven’t talked to Laura in a decade (and I’ve googled her several times), or that I haven’t seen Judy in five years. These are incredible people! So talented, so funny. I’m so blessed to have ever known them.

So, if you’re a blast from the past, and you happen to run across this site, please say hi.