Why be sensible when you can be impulsive?
I need to get my oil changed and my brakes fixed. I’m thinking I’m just going to get a brand-new car instead.
Speaking of getting new things: Anyone up for Crafty Bastards this weekend?
Everybody chant now
Hi, internet! How are you? I am fine.
I brought my boys to O-H (I-O!) this weekend for my good friend Matt’s wedding, which, I have to say, was super great. Owen stayed with his “Nana” and “Gammy” while Iain and I got dolled up and listened to Frank Sinatra and had drinks and good Italian. I even got Iain to dance (several times, go me). The bride was stunningly beautiful, the groom was very handsome, and let me tell you, these guys were looking out for their guests. Also, I love how I can be seated at a table at a wedding 420 miles away and still have at least two friends in common with the lad next to me. That’s OH (I-O!) for you.
The wedding was in Columbus, and my sister put us up at her place so we could spend a few hours with her and her BF, as well as my brother and my other sister, who live a block away. We spent some time in the Victorian Village, which is very close to the campus of The Ohio State University (please notice the “the”, very important, I’ll be sued if I don’t put it in), the football team of which was playing Penn State the same afternoon.
Have you ever been in Columbus during an OSU football game? It’s INSANE. Wall-to-wall traffic. Teeming masses of drinkers wearing red jerseys. I mean, some people out here go nuts with the purple Ravens gear of a Sunday, but it is nothing compared to the sweaty dedication of these sports fans. You wake up, put on your jersey, and get to drinking. Pre-game, post-game, during-game — don’t bother having a conversation because it is Buckeye Football Time. My sister would yell “O-H!” into the street, and you can guarantee someone would echo back an “I-O!”.
It’s nutty. But fun. You should have seen the men at the wedding reception, ducking out back for a “cigarette”, which is really code for “peek at the web-enabled PDA or cellular phone to check The Score.” These people, they take their college ball seriously.
Anyway, it was nice to see my brother and sisters again, and as i said the wedding was terrific, I didn’t want to have to leave. The next morning the sibs and Emmy’s BF and Iain and I had a rousing breakfast at Bob Evans — “one of the shiniest meals I’ve ever seen,” as one of our party called it, and then Iain and I jetted off up the road back to my parents house.
We held hands during the long drive up 23 (right past MARION and no time to stop, but I thought of you, Jen! And you, Dani, in Findlay!). It had been almost 24 hours just the two of us, and though we missed the boy quite a bit I think we had a good time. And there is something so serene, at least to me, about driving 70 miles an hour through acres and acres of cornfields, with the sun shining and the sky spreading out to infinity all around you. I decided right then that we are definitely, fer shure, moving back west. If not to OH (I-O), then at least Western PA. Imagine, being a mere two or three hours from the people I love most instead of eight and a half. Imagine getting together for dinner being only a wee road trip, instead of involving taking time off work and a whole day in the car. Imagine how much house you could get for $200K! Acres of land! No traffic! We’d have money left over to renovate the kitchen (in our new dream house) and buy a Volvo. Iain could have the wood shop he’s always wanted. We’d live in a tree-lined little neighborhood close to Owen’s school, and there would BE no drunken 40-year-old men two doors down who yell obscenities at the Latino family across the street and then accidentally set their own shed on fire. It would be heaven.
So. All this to say, if I have any Pittsburgh readers, please come out of lurking. I would like to move to your town.
Sunday we managed to get our two BFF, Clint and Mandy, to meet us Pollyeyes for an early dinner. Oh my God, Pollyeyes. I don’t think Iain and I can drive to Northwest Ohio without stopping there for some stuffed breadsticks (and then buying three times as much as we can eat, with the honorable intention of packing it in ice and bringing it back home, but then forgetting it on the backseat, so the entire car smells like roast beef and garlic butter for days). Clint and Mandy provided excellent company as always, and I swear I don’t think I could ever spend enough time with those people.
Actually, I don’t think I could say enough nice things about the people we got to see this weekend. I only wish I had enough time to see all the rest of my people as well.
Oh, and today’s my birthday. Totally unrelated to all of the above except to say that, holyfuckingshit, I can’t believe I’m 27. Oh, and also, Best Birthday Presents Evar (with the exception of the iPod two years ago, that one still takes the cake). I have enough TV on DVD to last me weeks. Mmmmmm.
SNES to the rescue
It’s a totally nineties retro week here on the Eastman farm. We’ve got Pearl Jam, a young John Cusack, and … wait for it …
SUPER NINTENDO!
Just, nobody tell him about the A button B button thing, OK? Otherwise he’ll beat my high score.
Speaking of funny looking
Who else is like, totally psyched for tonight’s season premiere of America’s Next Top Model? Also, who else watches America’s Next Top Model while eating ice cream from the carton?
Just me?
Just checking.
Just a warning to whatever newcomers may lurk here: I get kind of retarded about ANTM blogging. I just can’t help myself.
(episode-specific blather beyond the jump)
Now who’s funny looking?
I apologize for the schizo appearance of Supafine today. Half-assed code-tinkering makes for a rather unusable blog, I find. I hope to get things in some sort of working order soon.
Entertainment age
All right. I’m feeling sufficiently with it these days to post. We’re going to gloss over the hiatus and reasons for it and get straight back into low-quality blog entries. Starting with …
WORDS OWEN SAYS THAT CRACK MY SHIT UP and/or MELT MY COLD STONY HEART
Missing
matching
broken
fixed
Simpsons (, The)
big truck
Boobah (“Bah-boo? Bee-bah? Boo-bee? Bah-bah?” He gives up after a while.)
Rock
Sock
Shark (followed by “… Bruce?”)
Flakes (, Frosted)
Fork. Mommy’s Fork.
Belly button (“bubby bubbon”)
Cheeks
Eyebrows (“eye … bubbo” and much pointing)
And the one I wish I could delete from his memory banks: “Shit.” Perfect pronunciation, nuanced inflection: down to the last detail, there’s no mistaking that one. Oops.
Your wake up call is here
Not forever, just for now.
Come on. You saw it coming.
I’m going to write in ‘House, M.D.’ for Governor
Good morning! Now go vote.
It’s Primary Day here in Maryland, for all y’all out-of-towners. And though I spent a few hours last Saturday drooling over a 5 bedroom, two bathroom converted barn with garage, basement, and pool table (comes with!) in P.A. for $159K(!) … I still live in Maryland.
So I gotta vote. And you gotta vote, too. You’re not allowed to bitch about ANYTHING unless you go vote.
I haven’t voted yet this morning, so I can’t bitch either. Instead I will say some nice things about living in Maryland.
- Listening to WTMD and WBZA
- Sunday morning’s churchy program by Dr Pastor Franklin Reid, of the Baltimore AME church (I’m an asshole and a nonbeliever and I still like this show)(The Church of Getting Things Done!)
- City Paper’s Best of Baltimore annual edition. Does it come out tomorrow?
- Finding a quilt shop TWO MINUTES from my house. Two minutes. Hi.
- Getting mail from Ohio friends (Thanks, Denise!) because I live so damned far away.
So. Maryland = Not so bad. But you still gotta vote.
And you can’t actually write in candidates, since this is just a primary, but still. Wouldn’t he make a great Guv? All bossy and no-nonsense?
Another (much less sad and much less important, yet still) momentous occasion.
I finished all the hand-quilting on my quilt last night. All I have left to do is trim it and bind it — self-binding, so it’s rather like hemming — and I could have the whole mess finished by the time I go to bed tonight.
Four years of work, sitting folded up in my sewing basket. I’m actually a little sad.
OK, I’m a lot sad, obviously, but a little part of the sad is because of this. I’m the kind of person who can find a little bit of sad for pretty much anything.
recent flickr
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my sewing tutorials
See my tutorials featured on SMS' Handmade Holidays!
