Tableaux!

THAT'S what they called skits during the Civil War. I couldn't remember the word for it in my last post. Huzzah, I knew memory would triumph eventually!

Anyway...not much else new here. So why am I blogging, you ask? Because I'm at work and I'm bored because I don't have much reading to do because I did most of it yesterday because I was hiding out in my room because I got into hot water with the oldies because I didn't have dinner ready when they got home because I was messing around with the computer. That's why!

That, and I just feel like writing. Writing is a big part of who I am. Occasionally I find myself in a very foul mood indeed; upon pausing to wonder why, I usually arrive at the conclusion that I have not written anything in quite some time. After I have set pencil to paper or fingers to keyboard, I feel better. There is something about writing that soothes my soul. I don't know why...but that's the way it is. I've always said there is nothing like creating a good bit of dialogue!

Of course, blogging is not technically dialogue, but when people leave comments, it can become dialogue. Not that I'm hinting or anything, oh no. ;)

In other news, aside from my little foray into stupidity (should have made dinner when I said I was going to, but no, had to get carried away reading Russell Crowe fan fiction...why does that man have to be so irresistible?? LOL!), nothing new is happening.

Oh, but I guess that wasn't my only foray into stupidity -- I made another boo-boo the other day when I bought a Mandy Moore CD from the used CD rack at the mall.

Ugh.....painful is the only way to describe my reaction. I nearly chundered listening to it. All those saccharine lyrics combined with light ultra-pop-y melodies...ugh!!! Truly awful. Sorry, I know probably some of you out there will be big Mandy Moore fans. I don't mean to offend; I'm just offering my reaction.

*shudder*

OK, I'm over it, really. I'm all right.

*cough, gag*

And now probably some of you will be saying, "She prefers TOFOG to Mandy Moore? Weirdo." If preferring TOFOG to just about any other makes me a weirdo, then I wear the title proudly.

You know, I started listening to their music because I love Russell Crowe's speaking voice and I wanted to see if his singing voice would be equally pleasing. (It was. It is.) Now, however, after hearing Gaslight and Other Ways of Speaking, I find myself listening just to enjoy the lyrics, melodies, and the overall sound of the band. Oh, don't get me wrong, it still registers in the back of my feeble little brain that it's Russell Crowe singing the words, but I enjoy the band as a whole.

I can't wait to acquire Clarity (otherwise known as Bastard Life or Clarity, and no, I'm not swearing when I say that -- "bastard" is a legitimate word, just as "hell" or "damn" are legitimate words and not always expletives...). Who knows when that will be, but I'm looking forward to it. TOFOG CDs are very hard to get around here. I always used to stop in at my local Borders Books and Music store asking for TOFOG CDs, and except for the time when I bought Gaslight (O fortunate day!) the reply would always be "No, sorry, none in right now..." After a while I gave up asking and decided to get the CDs from eBay.

Also, I can't wait to find out if Russell's latest musical project My Hand My Heart is ever going to make it to CD. I've heard part of Raewyn, over at TOFOG's website (www.gruntland.com) and liked it very much.

I'd venture buying Texas, the music DVD compiled from their tour of Texas and other US states, but I do think the language might blister my ears a bit. Perhaps someday. We'll see. I don't like hearing raw language; that's why I enjoy having the TVGuardian on our DVD player. But I also get a bit annoyed when all of a sudden people's mouths are moving and nothing audible comes out, LOL!

The Guardian supplies typed-out alternative words for those it blocks. For instance, I was watching The Magnificent Seven one day and it blocked out some words. I knew actors couldn't get away with a whole lot of on-screen swearing in 1960, the year the movie came out, so I was curious as to what they had actually said. I looked down at the bottom of the screen, where were the typed words, and it said something like, "Pull that gun tail in closer to your shoulder."

I just about fell on the floor laughing! The original word was "gun butt," which apparently is offensive to some people. It isn't, really, to me, which is why I found it funny. "Gun tail," indeed! Guns don't have tails! LOL!

My niece Lyssa and I got in a few good laughs the other day when we realised that the Guardian substitutes "man" for "God" and "darn it" for, well, you know. So we kept looking sidelong at each other for the rest of the day and coming out with phrases like, "There isn't any more peanut butter, man-darn-it!" or "Man-darn-it, stop that right now!" Oh, we're silly bints, that's for sure.

Wow, this was a long post for someone who supposedly didn't have much to write, ay? Well, I suppose it's long enough now. TTFN, luvvies! :)

untitled

Yeah...can't think of a title. I have too many things to talk about to limit myself by creating a specific descriptive title. However, as usually happens, now I'll probably forget all about the long list of topics I had...

I'll start with my crazy day yesterday. I was on my way to school -- had a one o'clock class, so I left at 10 minutes to one. I'm usually about three minutes late, but the teacher is usually about eight minutes late, so it doesn't matter. Anyway! I made lunch for the oldies, grabbed my bag of books, and headed for the door, completely forgetting that I had a mini-pizza in the microwave.

"Idiot!" I said to myself, sotto voce, and swung back around, carried by the momentum of my bookbag. I grabbed the pizza out of the microwave and dashed out the door, carrying it on one of my mum's good plates. Once out on the road, I realised I was somewhat hampered by the fact that I had only one hand to tear off pieces of pizza so I could eat while I drove.

No, I'm not an amputee -- the other hand was on the steering wheel and I always keep at least one hand on the steering wheel. It's definitely not safe for me to do anything else because I can't even ride a bicycle without using my hands. I see lots of people riding bicycles without using their hands except when they need to turn -- usually spiky-haired teenage boys whose baggy trousers are in danger of being caught in the bike wheels (and if the trousers didn't catch in the wheels, the chains hanging from their waistbands would!). However, I have never been endowed with that particular talent. I can't even steer my bike correctly using one hand!

I can, though, drive a car with just one hand, despite what you may be thinking. So, to get back to my point, since I only had my right hand to eat the pizza with, I wadded the little pizza up into a roll resembling a soft taco and ate it that way.

Was I in a hurry? Nawww...

Well, I needn't have bothered, in any case; when I drove up to the railroad crossing near the school, a train was stopped on the tracks. It just sat there...and sat there...and sat there. I turned around and drove on the back roads for a few ticks, hoping that by the time I got back it would have moved. (Well, all right, I can't lie -- I thought I was taking a different way to school and that I could get around the train. I've never claimed to be good with directions and maps and such, OK? Step off already! LOL!)_

When I got back to the railroad tracks, the train was still sitting there, and I was already 10 minutes late to class. Sighing resignedly, I swung the car around yet again and headed out to take the LONG way to school. I knew I could get there that way, but I also knew it would take a lot longer.

"Whatever," I thought. "I'm already late. It won't make any difference anyway. Just give it some time and she'll be apples!" (Translation: it'll be OK.)

So, twenty-five minutes later, I arrived in time to catch a discussion on the ethics of blogging -- or, rather, the ethics of revealing secrets (such as your name) while blogging. Well, all right, it was really about the ethics of reading another person's blog and using the information you learn there, particularly if the person whose blog you're reading is a friend or an acquaintance.

(I actually did pay attention. No, really. Honestly. Just because I was doing homework for another class doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention!)

So yeah! I had an exciting day! In the next class we had to discuss a book I absolutely hated (Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth), and in the class after that...well, suffice it to say that I was pretty much lost. We won't get into that. ;)

Afterward, I hung around reading books (yes, some of them were actually textbooks) and eating my supper, which included a lovely apple. (See apple reference above; guess it was literally as well as idiomatically true!) Then I went to creative writing class, during which we wrote two poems. (Argh...poetry!! Blech! Well, all right, some of it is nice, but very little. And I'm not any good at writing it!)

Then I drove home; there were no accidents (like the other day -- oh, that was interesting!), stalled trains, or annoying little animals choosing precisely the worst moment to dash heck-for-leather across the road. Huzzah! The oldies greeted me with their characteristic, "Ya made it!"

Responding with the characteristic eye roll, I dropped my bookbag and purse on the floor and proceeded to read my latest poem to my mum, who loved it as usual. She's so enthusiastic about everything I do, bless her heart. :)

Today was a fun day too. I worked this morning, 9 to 12, then dashed off to the school's blood drive to see if I could squeeze in a donation before I went to my next job at 1:30. Fortunately I made it back in time -- well, I was about six minutes late, but that's nothing new for me. ;)

I walked in the door and my boss gasped in alarm. "Are you OK?! What happened?" Then she recollected that I had left a message with the office administrator that I was at the blood drive and would probably be late. She insisted on giving me a comfy chair, checking to see if I had eaten, and telling me to take it easy because she didn't want to have to pick me up off the floor. I laughingly assured her I was just fine (which I am), and that I would be too heavy for her to pick up off the floor (which I definitely am), then proceeded to sit by the phone and wait for someone to call (I was at the Tech Support desk -- well, all right, I still am. Yeah, they let me blog at work if no one's on the phone needing help -- isn't that awesome?).

Hmmm...I should probably give you the Batavia Cemetery Report. Yes, we camped out in a cemetery for the weekend. No, there were no ghosts. (And no, I am not crazy, despite masses of evidence to the contrary. Just never you mind.)

It was a lovely weekend in terms of weather. We were minimally busy, so we got to have fun planning and executing a candlelight tour scenario. (No, nobody got executed. You know what I mean. Stop giving me fits.)

The scenario was lots of fun. In case you don't know what they are (Jess, you can ignore this, 'cause you do know what they are), candlelight tours are, well, tours by candlelight of strategic places in the re-enacting area. There are guides with lanterns who explain each little skit or scenario. (They called skits something else during the war; can't for the life of me remember what though...) Our scenario was a gathering of women during the war -- friends, neighbors, relatives -- who were trying their best to celebrate Christmas without their menfolk. Just at the opportune moment, however, the menfolk straggled back home, wounded in tow, to celebrate Christmas with us after all. It was designed to make people cry -- and we succeeded in quite a few cases, or so I heard. Mum wanted a good tear-jerker like the one we had last year. During that one, I got to be quite the prima donna; my darling fiance (who does not, in actuality, exist) had gone off to war and had been killed. I was to hold up a pair of shoes that I had been going to send him, then burst out sobbing at the realisation that he would never need shoes again and that he wouldn't be coming home to me. *sniff, sniff*

And I am pretty much the unemotional female in my family. Hmm! Interesting.

All right, well, I'm all written out for now. There's lots more I should be telling you, I'm sure, but of course I can't think of what that might be.

Oh yeah...I remember one thing. I MISS JESS!!! That's a given. Jess, sweetie, if you're reading this, I will be calling you within the next couple of days, I swear. Things are finally starting to settle down at school and I think I will have time very soon. Forgive me... :)

OK, that's all for now. More later from your errant and very neglectful blog poster...

At last...

...my love has come along...

Oh, no, wait, that's not what I meant to say at all. I got carried away with the song. Sorry.

I do like the song, though...just about any song from the '40s or '50s, as a matter of fact. I amuse my mother by knowing the title of, words to, and singer of almost any oldies song.

Oldies...ha, ha! Oldies for the oldies. "Oh, ha, ha, ha!", as Jack would say.

Ahem. Getting off course again, yes I am.

The point of this blog is to give you an extremely abbreviated Mumford Report. It is my last-ditch effort to bring the Report to your screen before our last re-enactment of the year at Batavia Cemetery this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I determined that I absolutely must post it before then.

So here goes...

Mumford was HOT!!!!!!!!!!!

I was on my feet on Saturday from 8 a.m. to 12 midnight!!!

It was HOT!!!!!!

An acquaintance of mine forced me into a schottische and I looked like a complete idiot!

It was HOT!!!!

The humidity was so thick that we could see our breath in the 29-degree (85-degree Fahrenheit) night air.

DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS HOT???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, mates, that's the Mumford Report, such as it is. Have fun.

;-)