Great Way To Spend Three Hours

Todd and I finally saw Avatar on Friday night.

I had no frame of reference for the movie and never really kept up with any of the hype-- I just kinda wanted to see it because I knew it was this big, sweeping, 3D epic. When it also became the highest grossing film of all time, I figured we should see it on the big screen before the Oscars. So on Friday, since we both wound up with the night off, we splurged and watched it in 3D.

Y'ALL.

It was amazing. I mean, SO GOOD. The kind of film/story that sticks to you, you know? I thought about it the entire next day. I guess maybe I shouldn't be that surprised, because it wouldn't be the first time I'd been swept up by some grand, geeky phenomenon... but I was pretty shocked at how much I loved it. I mean, it's definitely the best, most memorable movie I've seen in a long time. I got totally sucked in by the struggle between the Na'vi and the humans, and even after 162 minutes had passed, I could've kept watching. I'd even go see it again. It was beautiful and captivating and I highly recommend it. Even my husband, who is only geeky in the slightest, thought it was fantastic.

So... if you've been a slacker like me, stop reading reviews and go see it. It's worth your $12.00.

Work Hard, Play Hard

Mercenary Creativist. I think that's my official title.

I had to do some freelancey work today. Last night, I called about 40 people to collect email addresses for my hairdresser's email mailing list (she's opening a new salon and I'm becoming her marketing/events diva). I only connected with about 10 of them, but I left a bunch of messages and then designed a marketing email for her. I had to finish it up and plug in all the email addresses this morning. I was working from the bedroom upstairs because one whole wall is a window and until about 5pm, it's the warmest room in the house. But Gotham was incredibly bored while I was working and alternated between napping, staring out the window, carrying various toys around the bedroom and crawling under the bed and whining for about 4 hours. I took him out a few times, all the while promising him a grand adventure as soon as I finished.

I didn't finish quickly enough though and even though I swore I wouldn't until he was older, I ended up pulling him up on the bed with me. It was the only way I could get some peace. He promptly went to sleep at my feet. Stinker.

Anyway, I finished around 1:15 and as soon as I could get my shoes on, we were out the door. It's a beautiful day here. Still kind cold (46ish) but the sun's out and there's not a cloud in the sky. We walked several blocks and wove through different neighborhoods before running into the gate of Frenchtown Dog Park, which is just 2 blocks from our house. Gotham is just barely old enough to be admitted (4 months), and annual dues are $40 (which we don't have to spend on him right now). So we're standing at the numberpadlocked gate, surveying the scene, and an older lady with three dogs asks if we want to come in and try it out! They were the only ones there and she was sweet enough to let us in to play with her terrier Chloe (who thought she was a person), her chow mix, Lucky and her Rott/Aussie Shepherd, Jack (who tried to force himself upon every male dog upon arrival, except Gotham. That's right. He must've sensed that I would've kicked him in his happy little nutsack if he tried to hump my baby.)

Anyway, we weren't there for 10 minutes before another guy showed up with his German Shepherd mix and his Pit mix (Eli and Peyton, respectively) and another older gent came in with his 10 month old Boxer boy, Moses, who was huge. I can't believe how big Gotham's going to get.

Anyway, he had a blast. Mostly with Eli & Moses, even though they were considerably bigger and stronger. By the time we left, he was panting and exhausted and happy and homeless-looking. I mean, COVERED in dirt and hay and LOVING it.

So I walked my little mongrel home and stuck him straight in the tub. He smells like chamomile and flowers now, and he's out cold behind me on the couch. It's been a good day. :)

Odd Jobs McGee

I feel like I have pet goat.
This dog will eat anything that isn't nailed down.

I also feel like I have an occupational identity crisis. Whenever I see people who seem to be enjoying their jobs? I want to do that. Today we had a huge group of elementary school students come into the Arch and I was like "Maybe I should try to be a teacher." But I wouldn't want to teach elementary school, I'd want to teach high school English... at least I'm pretty sure.

I think some part of me thought that after I got married, I'd discover what I'd been unable to pin down since I graduated from college-- that elusive Thing I Want To Do With My Life. But it hasn't happened. I don't mind telling people what I do for work now. I don't mind telling people what I've done for work in the past. I don't mind telling people what kind of degree I have... but please, oh please...

Don't ask me what I want to Do.

When people ask me that, you want to know what the first 4 things are that pop into my head?
1) Name crayons/nail polish colors/paint swatches.
2) Be the voice of an animated Disney princess.
3) Write and or be in a Broadway musical.
4) Speak Spanish.

I'm serious. I don't know what's wrong with me. Or how to figure it out. I feel like I don't know what my actual tangible dreams are anymore-- well, not the career/work-related ones. For the past few months, I've basically just jumped at whatever opportunities are placed in front of me.

But it's really frustrating, this not knowing what I want. And now that this Goat Dog has frightened all my once friendly muses into hiding, I don't quite know what to do with myself.

I guess I'll keep blogging.

I'm wearing glasses.

Well, I'm wearing frames with no lenses that used to belong to my college roommate. I put them on after I climbed into bed because I had to do a "training exercise" tonight for work. It involved me watching a seven-minute powerpoint and then sending an email.

I'm still wearing them.

I don't know. It just felt very Claire Huxtable to climb into bed and finish my professional business.

But I'm all done now, and since I've got my first full day of "being in charge" tomorrow, I should probably remove my fake specs and get to bed.

There's a lot of hustle on my horizon. I'll tell you about it later. Peace & Buenas noches.

Eh?

Since I'm not facebooking, I just have to say really quick that tonight, while watching the Ice Dancing medal ceremony, I discovered that my husband knows the words to the Canadian national anthem.

You think you know somebody.

Donde, esta, la biblioteca...

Can you judge a city by its library? I'm sure you could learn something about it. Maybe just a list of the city's most forgetful people or a list of locals without home internet service. Perhaps you could discern a level of local literary learnedness or city history-- in which case, I would hope all big city libraries would be breathtakingly stocked in their own unique ways.

I love the library. My mom started taking me there probably before I could walk. We'd sit forever, my mom usually thumbing through a fat cookbook while I devoured the children's section. She'd read to me for awhile and then we'd check out a stack of books and push them home in the stroller. I remember being in elementary school and being SO excited when we got to 3rd grade and were finally allowed to check out books from the school library that weren't in the children's section. And even now, I love the multiple floors and maze-like aisles of large old libraries, stocked with more words and tales than you could read in a lifetime.

But sometimes, I get this feeling that libraries have gotten a lame reputation. Some people think libraries are these pasty, know-it-all, bespectacled teenagers with frizzy hair and severe asthma who forget to put on deodorant, and no one wants to be around them unless it becomes absolutely vital. For a lot of people, I'm afraid libraries have become a Dungeon of Dissertations and a Lonely Cavern of Research Paper Fodder; an Evil Lair of Late-Night Cramming Sessions, a Black Hole of Book Reports and a Sarlacc Pit of Science Fair Projects. What happened?

What happened to this brand of wonder?



That's definitely how I felt about libraries as a kid... and I still enjoy the chance to go in and browse, searching through the quietness for a story worth taking in, marveling at all the books that have been written and compiled over the years, wondering how you could ever even hope to read all the good ones, feeling a little sorry for the bad ones, and glancing at the kids in the children's area, wondering if anyone reads to them at night and hoping that they will always be able find comfort in a well-told tale.

I visited the library down the street from our house for the first time today. It's just a branch; its pleasant and warm and houses the necessary basics, but it's no Beast Library. Still, I got my first St. Louis Library Card and a tattered copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, which I've not reads since I was 15. Maybe a project for the summer will be to seek out The City Library and see how it adds to what I know of St. Louis.

Where was this in the Superbowl?!

Hilarious.