Happy Birthday Star Wars!

Note: For the purposes of this post - and inorder for me to maintain my sanity - "Star Wars Movies" ONLY refers to the original trilogy. The abomination that was produced over the past decade will not be acknowledged. I try to forget they exist, and I suggest you do the same.

The very first Star Wars movie came out six months before I was born. (I really like saying that, mostly so I can listen to certain people - like my boss -groan about how incredibly young I am. I love hearing that, too). I think I was about five when I saw the first one. The only thing I really remember is that I was stretched out in our house in L'ville - which is how I know I wasn't any older than five - the first time I heard Darth Vadar's breathing. And I remember thinking that I didn't like it, because it reminded me of how my own breathing sounded immediatly after I had gotten tubes in my ears (and even that's a kind of fuzzy memory - but I have a lot of those from the age of 21, too But that's another story). Other than that, it's like there was never a time when I didn't know the ENTIRE story backwards, forwards and inside out. My brother and I had light sabers (long pieces of colored plastic) that we used to "pretend" we were trying to kill each other. I can't speak for him, but I was only pretending about...um...1/3 of the time. There were a few action figures in the depths of our toys until we were too old to be playing with action figures; I was convinced that Han Solo was out there, somewhere, waiting for me; And I desperately wished for hair long enough to do cool things with. We won't discuss what my hair actually looked like. {shudder}

After we moved to Nashville, I was lucky enough to have a group of friends who were just as in love with the whole thing as I was. (Although, to be fair, the only people of my generation who didn't really care for Star Wars...were nonexistant.) My friends and I would pass notes in class (mom, you didn't read that) and instead of putting our real names down, we all had code names from Star Wars. Wanna guess who I was? Yep. I got to be the Princess. As for the one who got to be "The Wooky"...I think it's still a sore spot with her. And when A. got her first car, I don't think there was even a discussion - it was the Millenium Falcon, no questions asked

A few years ago, when the boxed sets of the DVDs came out, The Professor- proving that he occasionally pays attention to my obsessions - bought me a set. And I love them. Dearly. They are on the list of things that will be saved in case of a fire.

I had planned to spend tonight watching the movies. But THe Professor's b'day is on Tuesday, and this is the best night for us to go out and celebrate. So Han will have to wait until tomorrow. Because a girl is never to old to be in love with this.

Friday's Feast

Appetizer Name a sound you like to hear.

The sound of my cats purring when they’re curled around me in bed. Soup What is your favorite kind of cheese?

This is the kind of thing that causes panic in my brain – it’s like saying: you can only drink one kind of wine again for the rest of your life. It really depends on my mood. Since I’ve been craving Havarti for the past couple of days, we’ll go with that. Just be aware that tomorrow the answer could be cheddar if I’m looking forward to a grilled cheese.

Salad Do you sleep late on Saturday mornings? Why or why not?

Define late. Since I get up at the unconscionable hour of 5 or 5:30 during the week, sleeping til 7 or 8 on Saturday feels late to me. Of course, I’d rather REALLY sleep late and stay in bed until noon, but I don’t let myself do that very often. I do make an effort to counter-act my naturally laziness every now and then. Main Course When was the last time you forgot something? What was it, and how long did it take to remember it? Hmm…I’m sure I’ve forgotten something lately. Probably last weekend when I was doped up on Benadryl because of the bee sting. As soon as I remember what it was, I’ll be sure to check back in. Dessert Fill in the blanks:

I notice idiots on the interstate when they fly by me at 90 miles an hour only to slam on the brakes when they discover that there’s a state trooper two cars ahead of me. Seriously, people – do you think there’s two miles of traffic going 65 miles an hour because we’re all in a blasé mood today?

Quote of the Day

From Kate:

If you tell me that you are going out for coffee, and you come back with a double whipped iced mochaccino with raspberry syrup, you haven't really gone out for coffee as much as you've gone out for a milkshake.

The Mating Rituals of Squash

This spring, my vegetable gardening instincts kicked in. I haven't planted any kind of veggies in years, but when we got back from London I went for it. I made a raised bed in my yard - my back doesn't need any help falling apart, so I didn't try to dig through the rock - and planted tomatoes, bell peppers, yellow squash, basil, onions and eggplant. My plan was to enlarge the garden a little every year. Then the dog came, ate my basil, chewed on my eggplant and squashed a pepper plant. So, the Best Friend and I spent a lovely Friday moving everything - the dirt, the plants, the cute stone boundary I had to hold in everything - to the side of my house. The plants - reduced in number and a little worse for wear - took a time out for a couple of weeks while they decided what they thought about the move. And then they decided they were happy and started flowering. But because of the move, I'm a little behind the curve on vegetables this year. And the squash is the trickiest - you have to get male AND female flowers, and...basically be a squash pimp. You have to convince the males that yes, the females pretty much will do it with any of the other male parts in the plants around them, but THAT ONE is the lucky one. Today at least. And bees are the glue hold entire relationship together. The male and female plant parts, are necessary...but no one can deny that bees are important. Maybe squash are just super kinky plants and like the idea of a threesome. Whatever. I don't question the sexual practices of people OR squash. The plants need the bees. Every morning, I check my squash because the flowers are only open for a day. Are there any females advertising their stunning ovaries this morning? Are there any males preening and showing off the yellow-ness of their stamens? And damn it, where are the bees? I found a bee on my morning rounds today. Just as I stepped up to the horny little plants that were begging for attention, I found him - because he was between my toes. And since bees - like most other creatures - don't care to be stepped on when in the middle of a very risqué act with a yellow squash, it stuck it's little stinger directly between two of my toes. At this point, I can hear both of my parents patiently telling me - for the 845,340,927th time - that if I go outside without shoes on, something's going to happen. They're almost triumphant, because finally, FINALLY, something happened. After I stopped screaming and ran into the house to yell to my husband to come and kiss me because I was surely going to die any moment, and my last will and testament is in the brown box with the marriage certificate, and please tell StepSon I love him...I realized that I wasn't dying. But I don't think I over-reacted. After all, I haven't been stung by a bee since I was about 5, so there was no way of telling what kind of reactions I've been storing up in my body just waiting for a bee sting to happen. For now, the benadryl + empty stomach equation is equaling a loss of equilibrium in my brain. I'm going to go pamper myself with HGTV. I can't be expected to clean the litter box in my current state, now can I?

Interim Self-Appraisals, or Reasons To Be Glad It's Friday

We have a new personnel system. It's so secure that it's almost impossible to get into without calling the helpdesk and having them reset your password. I've had to log in to it twice in four months, and that's what I've had to do both times. Sure, you have a secret question - but you have to remember WHICH secret question you answered out of a list. And they're all pretty standard, which means I know I've answered all of these questions before on one website or two or a thousand, but how the HELL am I supposed to remember which website has which question? After talking to the (extremely nice man) at the help desk, I had to come up with a new password. It's harder to come up with these passwords than it is to get security clearance. But I don't want to make you think this new system is all fun and games! Once you get past security, you've got to know which buttons to click on. And just because the same buttons are on every page doesn't mean that they all do the same thing! And the handy-dandy instruction sheet that was handed out to walk you through the whole process? It doesn't tell you how to navigate to get to the point where the instructions start. I think it's their way of ensuring that we have a little variety in our life. A way to make sure that we don't get bored with the same old thing. They're trying to keep those neurons firing in our brains, making new connections and making us smarter - because when you open up your file, you never know what you're going to get. Or they're trying to make us have a greater love and appreciation of our liquor collections, waiting patiently for us to get home. At least every time I open my vodka, I know oblivion is just a few large gulps away.

I seem to have developed a drinking theme

The parents came and went with a little bit of drama to keep their trip interesting. Something about car parts breaking multiple times that I won't even try to act like I understand, mostly because no one would believe me if I did. They got in town a few hours late, and the rest of the weekend was a blur of food and laughter. Sometimes it's hard to tell what my family does more of when we get together - talk, eat or laugh. Lord knows we talk and laugh about food alot. Maybe I should take a poll. That would take energy I don't have at 6 AM...maybe I should drink some more caffeine and see if that motivates me. My dad came out of his "don't talk politics" shell long enough to actually utter a sentence that was anti-Bush. I didn't know it was possible to love my father any more, but he proved me wrong. AND it gave me something to shock my siblings with. That's a two-fer right there. So just for him, I won't mention me and sex anywhere in the same sentence in this post. Although I guess by making that statement, I kinda broke the promise already. I need more caffeine if I'm going to make arguments like that. I really need to get off my lazy butt and build my compost "thing". I don't know what shape it's going to take, but I think that'll be my project for Sunday. I also need to make a mental note to get the Best Friend over here to help, because if I use my tools without her, she probably won't speak to me for a month. If we drink caffeine, I'm sure it'll be spiked with something yummiliciously alcoholic. I'm so far behind on my blog-reading that it scares me when I open Google Reader. I check the three or four blogs that friends/family write and then close it out because I know once I start, I won't be able to stop. Maybe I'll spend five hours Thursday night with a a preview of Sunday's spiked coffee - gotta do a taste test, right? - and my blogs. StepSon turns 16 next week. Just pass the straight alcohol for that one.