A Most Perfect Creature of Heaven

I want a dog.  Not just any dog.  I want a Scottish Deerhound.  The idea came to me one night last week.  I've been wanting a pet for longer than I can remember.  The thing that was stopping me was that I already had a pet, a fish.  But come on, a fish is hardly a pet.  You can't even pet it!  But it was always a 'valid' point in arguments with my mom.  


scene 1


Me: Mom can I get a pet?
Mom: You have a fish.
end of scene


But a few weeks ago, after much forethought and guilt for my fish's horrible standard of living, and after my realization that I could not leave the poor fish's demise up to fate or starvation, I, quite simply, threw my fish into a pond, with the knowledge and hope that he would die soon.  Which brings me to my reason for telling you this story.  I just realized this.  The event of 'releasing my fish into the wild' removed the long standing barrier keeping me from getting a real pet.  So, ever since, I have been overreacting to this newfound freedom, and I have been chasing fleeting urges for outrageous pets.  Like, "I should get a cow" or "I want a cat (outrageous because everyone in my family is allergic but me)" or "OMG! I should get two horses and a sleigh, and then in the winter I could drive it around!"

It was during this last whim that I realized, "hey, I really want a pet, and until I get one, I will continue to run after these half-brained ideas, so I should pick a sensible pet that I really want before I go and buy a herd of sheep."  At least, I realized it on an unspoken level.  It all happened in a matter of seconds.  My brain was all, "Horse" then "No I couldn't" then "Scottish Deerhound!"  

 This is a Scottish Deerhound.

Let me explain my love for this dog.  I first met this breed last year, when I watched "Angel" by Francois Ozon.  It's a movie about a poor English girl who makes good when her romantic novels are published and are well-received by public.  She starts going to parties and wearing beautiful dresses and buys the house of her childhood dreams.  Then she falls for a handsome, struggling painter.  She hates his paintings, and so does almost everyone.  They get married, even though the painter has no feelings for her, and the painter takes advantage of her wealth.  They fight a lot, he goes to war and cheats on her, and then becomes a grumpy bitter invalid, and their marriage goes down the drain.  He leaves her, or dies, I can't remember, and she can't write anymore, and she wastes away and dies.  Kind of a horrible ending, but what do you expect.  But, she has a Scottish Deerhound named Sultan, and he's really only acknowledged in two scenes.  Nevertheless, I instantly was drawn to this dog.  I didn't know what kind he was. I fell in love with his shaggy, roughed-up coat,

 and his easy, loping gait,

 and quiet demeanor,

 and practically everything about him.  I tucked him in the back of my mind and kept him there, until a few months ago, when I was taking a dog compatibility test.  I filled out the questions and headed to the results page.  There was a list of dogs, and I started google-ing each one to see what they looked like.  I typed "Scottish Deerhound" into the text box, and lo and behold, it was Sultan!  That's how I found out the name of the breed.  

Which brings me to the present.  When I subconsciously identified my aforementioned problem, I thought what's an animal that I love.  And ol' Sultan popped into my head.  It was perfect.  I instantly started researching the breed, and looking up breeders.  The researching part went great, I found out that these dogs are absolutely perfect, loyal, calm, content to lay around, but also willing to play and run when asked.  It's a perfect idea.

I also found out that Scottish Deerhounds also competitively run, which is called lure coursing.  Another thing, only royalty were allowed to own them.

But alas, things worth having are worth fighting for, and the universe is certainly sending plenty of battles to me.  Battles like no one is selling their deerhound on Craigslist.  Battles like there aren't any accidental litters that owners are willing to get rid of for a low price.  Battles like not ONE breeder has a page with pictures and prices of a recent litter.  COME ON.  Basic stuff here.  So I amassed a few breeder pages and e-mailed them.  So far, one breeder isn't breeding now, another e-mailed me a whole bunch of nonsense without even answering any of my questions, and another is selling her puppies for $2000.  Yeah right.  I knew that the price was impossibly high for me, but I had a nugget of hope that maybe I could do it.  Then my father told me he wasn't buying me a car, even though he had hinted at it earlier in the summer.  Car tease.  Now I need most of my funds to purchase the car of my dreams, a Jaguar E-Type.  More on that later.  The rest of the breeders haven't responded.  I'm counting on a specific breeder, and if they don't come through, well, there goes my dream, bye bye Sultan, maybe I'll try again in a few years.  Whoa, I just made myself really sad.

Well, fingers crossed, I've still got hope for now.

Loose, Linen Dresses

About twenty to forty minutes ago, I became mildly obsessed with this dress.

Not this dress in particular, but this type of dress.  I don't know what the style is called.  

I'm going to imagine wearing it.  For the white color, I'm on a sail boat for two, skimming over the calm sea waves.  I've just come up from below deck and have been greeted by a healthy sea spray from the wave that just slapped up the side of the boat.  For the teal color, or a darker color, it is a cloudy day, has been all day, and it's slightly cold, but the dress keeps me warm enough, especially if I'm wearing the dress in the forthcoming photo.  The dress lifts away from me in another gust of wind, and I feel the slightly stiff, starchy feeling of the fabric.

This next one I can picture myself tucked up in a lovely sunny corner of a fairly large, get-lost-in-the-stacks-amid-heavy-bound-volumes-with-gilded-titles library, tracing with my eyes the swirls of the grain of the mahogany chess table, which seems to be lit from within where the sunlight hits, contrasting deeply with the dark spots in the shade.  The warm air smells like binding glue, book pages, and leather; and the hot scent of the tea in the hand of the cute, freckled and bespectacled boy follows him and settles around my table as he sits and asks for a game of chess.

And with this one:

We're in an apple orchard, at that magic hour where the sunlight is tinted to an orange-red color.  We've been picking apples since early morning, and are thoroughly sleepy from all the work, and also from the little apple fight we had earlier.  Almost everyone in our small group has retired to the grassy ground and is in various stages of napping.  The only sounds are the soft, deep sounds of contented breathing, faint strains of music coming from the wedding in the house down the road, and the click and whir of crepuscular bugs, whose wings glow with sunlight.  One of our party has leaned against one of the trees, and he reaches up and pulls an apple from a low-hanging branch.  The branch swings back up into the treetop, swishing its leaves and dropping dirt and bits of vegetation onto our sleepy faces.  The snap of the apple stem breaking momentarily cuts through the lethargy, and we realize how late it's gotten, and pack our baskets of apples into the back of the rusty old pick-up and climb in.  The old car starts with a lurch and soon we are headed down the road, sending clouds of dust up behind us.  Later in the week, we will head back to the same orchard to have a picnic; our dessert will be apple pie, made from the ones we picked.

See, I could go anywhere with these dresses!  I need at least one.  They're fantastic.  

Most of these dresses are from this website: http://www.artfire.com/ext/shop/studio/StylishLife#/ext/shop/studio/StylishLife/9/7/0//ajax

Mythical Creatures, Urban Legends, and Bigfoot, Caught on Tape

You all know how it goes.  You open up Youtube, looking for only one video, which you find, and watch.  But then, you scroll through the sidebar, reading through the titles of related videos.  A few catch your eye, and you click on them.  You watch one of the new videos, and, as before, look at the sidebar, and open even more new videos.  Before you know it, an hour has gone by and you have 17 different tabs of unwatched video open on your window.  Such has happened to me, and I thought I'd like to share some of the videographic gems I have found, along with some opinions and insights.  On this Youtube trip, the main topic of my video thread was this: Mythical Creatures, Urban Legends, and Bigfoot, Caught on Tape.

First up, a classic, the Roswell Alien Autopsy.  Unfortunately, I could only find Part 2 of the "leaked footage."

Next, one we all know and love, Nessie.

I love how the thing doesn't move at all.  And those sounds? They remind me of Rainforest Cafe.

Now, it turned out that this one guy completely made up the Loch Ness Monster to ridicule a newspaper that ridiculed him, and even admitted to it, but people still won't give it up and believe him.  Here is the "Surgeon's Photograph"

I never really understood what "El Chupacabra" was, but this video 'revealed the mystery.'

Now, a werewolf. Or, if you have spelling problems, a "warewolf."

Here are some fairies.

At around 1:15, the cameraman calls the little boy a wanker.  I think his exact words are, "Oy! What a wanker."

And the one you've all been waiting for, Bigfoot.

I think what's fun about Bigfoot videos and photos is that they're so easy to fake!

Btw, what's the difference between Bigfoot and Sasquatch?

Now for some prettier things. Unicorns!

Now, a whole bunch of mermaid vids! Yay!

Well, there you have it.  A few hours of my life wasted.  Hey, at least I don't actually believe this stuff, then it would be my entire life wasted.  It was fun though.  My one regret? Try as I might, I couldn't find a decent dragon video.  Oh well.  Thanks for journeying with me through the annals of Youtube in search of fairies, aliens, Sasquatch, mermaids, and entertainment.  Join us next time for the topic "Hilarious Videos that You've Seen Way Too Many Times."


P.S.: If you would like to go hunting for hoax videos for your own adventure, I found that the shakier and foggier the video is, the better the story will be.  If it looks amateur and has low resolution, you've hit the jacky.  

Baking

Today I baked cupcakes.  Vanilla cupcakes with raspberry frosting.  If you'd like to make your own cupcakes, here are the recipes I used.  http://glorioustreats.blogspot.com/2011/07/perfect-vanilla-cupcakes-recipe.html  and for the frosting, http://makinglifedelicious.com/2011/03/21/pink-pink-pink-fresh-raspberry-buttercream-frosting/


Now I will tell you about my baking experience.  I love baking.  It's therapeutic.  And whatnot.  Now, if you read the post on the link of the first recipe, you would think that these cupcakes were the answer to life's misshapen cupcakes, that they were little cupcake cherubs.  You'd be wrong.  At least, I was.  They were easy to make, and they tasted fantastic, but they were the lumpiest cupcakes I've ever pulled out of an oven.  And I didn't even fill them up as much as I do with other cupcakes.  It looked like the started to be perfect, but then they erupted.  Nothing a bit of frosting couldn't disguise (or rather, distract attention from) but if I were in the cupcake biz, I definitely wouldn't have served them to a customer.  

What a neat way to store cupcake liners.

Speaking of frosting, the frosting was amazing.  It was my first time ever making a fruity frosting, but it turned out beautifully.  I liked this recipe, because it tells you to strain out the seeds, hence, nice smooth frosting.  And it tasted great too.  I mean, I probably wouldn't take it into a corner and eat it by the spoon-full, like I'm tempted to do with chocolate frosting, but it tasted nice on the cupcakes.  Another thing, it turned out a pretty, opera mauve color.  As I was baking, I pictured in my head a nice light pink, but I realize that would have happened with strawberries, not with vibrant raspberries.  I still like how it turned out.  Also, I used the maximum amount of powdered sugar suggested by the recipe because I wanted it to be stiff so I could decorate easier.  

The entire reason why I did this was so I could try out this rose frosting technique.

Onto the next element of my story.  I didn't want to keep all the cupcakes, because then I would eat all the cupcakes.  So I decided to give some of the cupcakes to a neighbor.  And I didn't want to put them on any old paper plate with saran wrap, I wanted 'presentation.'  So I made a gable box, but I guess I got bored or absentminded, because I didn't really plan anything for the top until I had the bottom part of the box taped up.  So the top kinda looks like a four year old cut it up.  Then I fancied it up and wrote the word 'cupcakes' on both sides and the word 'enjoy' on both sides of the handle.  And then I got second thoughts about giving them to the neighbors I was planning on, the ones that our family has the best relationship with.  Well, more like the only ones our family has a relationship with.  They go to our church.  Anyway, I didn't want to give the box to them because it wasn't as perfect as I wanted.  Then I got the idea of ding dong ditching it on some random neighbors porch.  So I made a tag that I attached to the handle that said 'Vanilla cupcakes with raspberry frosting' so whoever got it would know what it was.  Thus concludes the making of the cupcake box.

This is a gable box.

Then I didn't want to ditch it in broad daylight (ok, more like starting dusk) and without a car, so I invited my brother along so he could run up to the door and I could hide safely in some bushes.  I texted him at 6:00, and he was at the movies, so he didn't get any of my texts until just now.  So now we are going to go and ditch these cupcakes, as soon as he gets here.  I will tell you how it goes.  If there's anything worth telling.

Isn't this a neat idea?  My only concern would be how to get the cupcake out of the cup.

Back.  Not much to tell.  I ended up putting six mini cupcakes into an egg carton and fancying it up so we ditched that one too.  Alright, I've got to go to bed.  Nighty-night.

I wish I could think of cool stuff like this. 

Movie Review: An Affair to Remember

I just finished watching the aforementioned movie, and I thought I'd like to share my impressions, along with some screen caps.


First, things I want that were shown in the movie.

Her hair piece is wonderful.

This lace head-covering, as worn by an extra.

Wouldn't this be wonderful to sleep in? (re: my past post)

This little boy was absolutely charming, and I want one just like him.  Also, that hat and those goggles are fantastic.

Next: Romantic shots

No captions for that last batch.  Now, observations and random shots.

In this scene, Cary Grant slips up and calls his co-worker by her real name, Debbie, instead of Terry, her character's name.  I wonder if nobody caught it, or if all the other takes were completely horrible, forcing them to use this one.

There were furs on every woman in this theater.

When they find that their dalliance on the boat has been outed.

These last two illustrate the film-makers clever use of reflection to show what the subject is looking at, instead of a quick shot of it.  In the first one, the Empire State Building is reflected in the glass door, in the last one, his painting of her is reflected in the mirror.

I really enjoyed this movie.  I loved the simple romance, the lovely clothes, the resolution.  I applaud the acting of these two; the last scene's dialogue would have been unintelligible without the right tone and delivery.  And in another scene, when they are about to disembark the boat and are evaluating one another's mates, they have a whole conversation with their expressions, and the audience can understand it.  It was a wonderful movie.

Swimming

Another of my pastimes that has been, sadly, left to the past.
  

When we lived in California, there were community pools everywhere.  Mom would take us nearly everyday in the summer, and we would play all day in the pool.  Our favorite one was, well, we called it "Cripple Creek." (which I now realize is completely wrong and utterly rude, but, come on, I was a kid)  It was a pool with adjustments for the handicapped.  For example, they had a ramp going into the pool, along with stairs.  We loved playing on the ramp.  I forget the real name of it, something with a 'W' or maybe a 'P'?  I think it was sort of a long name.  That pool was deep, too.

Also, we lived next to the ocean.  Mind you, not right on the ocean, we had to drive a bit.  So on rarer occasions, (too rare, I think.  It really wasn't that far) we would drive down to the ocean for a swim.  Now that I think of it, I can't really remember going to the beach any time other than for the corn roast.  

Oh the corn roast.  The corn roast was a church event, usually held a short few days after Independence Day.  Let me describe it to you.  Our family would pack into the car, with all our swimming gear and all that, we would pick up some KFC, always KFC, and drive to the beach.  I remember, there was always a skywriting plane writing some couples initials in a heart or something.  Always.  And there were always huge fluffy cotton-ball clouds that would spur discussions between us kids about how much we wanted to flop onto them.  

When we got to the corn roast, we would spread our towels out and start eating our KFC.  Then, we would go play in the ocean until the corn was ready.  We would find our friends from church and play around with them.  Once, my brother got stung by a jellyfish during this time.  Later, we would grab some of the corn and feast.  It was delicious.  Later still, we would gather around one of the big fire pits and roast marshmallows.  There were so many kids there that you could really only roast one marshmallow, and, since you had to fight and fight hard for a good roasting spot, it usually wasn't that well-roasted.  When night fell, we would head home, and wait for next year's corn roast.

As you can see, I grew up swimming.  (And I even forgot to mention Lake Powell and Lake Havasu.)  Now, onto the sad part.  This summer, I put on my bathing suit a grand total of 6 times.  Six!  Let me tell you why that number is so small.  First of all, all of June was cloudy and rainy.  Second of all, when your lake freezes over in the winter, you have to wait until it warms up to a reasonable temperature, and it usually doesn't ever warm up to a reasonably warm temperature.  So the only thing the lake is good for is a) tubing and boating, b) cooling off after laying out.  My dad took the boat in the divorce, so there goes option a, and I absolutely hate laying out.  Phlewww, whoops that was the sound of option b dying.  Please read the following dialogue.

Sister: Hey come to the beach with us.

Me: No, the beach is boring.

Sister's friend: Please come! it will be so much fun!

Me: No, all you do is lay out, and that's boring.

Sister's friend: I love swimming, I'm gonna swim a lot!

(the conversation continues in this fashion until I either relent or they get bored and leave.  In this demonstration I will relent.)

at the beach

*the group spreads out towels, lays down*

*I read book, get excruciatingly bored and hot*

Me: Let's go swimming.

Them: In a bit.

*time passes*

*the group jumps in the water, plays around for 5 minutes, gets back out*

*scene repeats until we finally leave*

That's why I try to avoid going to the beach.  Excuse me, the lake shore.  It is torture.

I think I realized the exact reason why I don't swim so much any more.  Other than the aforementioned ones.  See, my mom would lay out all the time.  And I was always the last one to leave the pool, so that means that as a kid, I had no trouble entertaining only myself.  Now, it would look odd if I were playing the same games as when I was younger.  So there's nothing for me to do except float around and stuff.  Which is kinda boring.  Mystery solved.

Reading

I don't do enough of it.  Reading, that is.  Want proof?  When I was trying to think of a post title, I wanted something clever or profound or thought-provoking, but instead all I got was "Reading."  If I read more, I would have had at least four different titles in my head to choose from.  

When I was a wee child, I read constantly.  I don't really remember when I started reading so avidly, but I know when I stopped.  I remember, in middle school, every morning before school started, I would be in the library, lingering in book shelves I'd already been through, leafing through books I'd already examined.  I would check out one or two books before the bell rang and head to class.  In the middle of the morning, there was a period devoted to reading only.  You couldn't talk in that period; you couldn't even study or do other homework.  Purely reading time.  And during that time I would get started on a book I'd checked out.  Also sometimes during class, when the opportunity presented itself, like if I had finished my homework early, or if we had a few minutes before the bell rang, I would crack open a book.  Then I would read on the bus ride all the way home.  When I got home, I would head straight up to my room, curl into my armchair, and read until dinnertime.  Even if I had homework, that would wait until after dinner.  Once homework was finished, it was usually bedtime, so I would hop into bed, my mom would tuck me in, and I would take out my little old cellphone for a light and read until the late hours of the night.  Usually I would finish the book, return it in the morning, and resume browsing in the stacks.  I stopped reading during the summer between eight grade year and freshman year.

Another sign that my reading skills are rusty: my vocabulary has... see, I'm trying to think of a specific word and I can't.  My vocabulary reservoir has been greatly depleted.  "Greatly."  In the olden days, I would have said something like, "Significantly" or something.  

My spelling and grammar are also a little worse for wear.  I was the girl who could have won the District spelling bee if I had wanted.  But I didn't want to, so I misspelled "superintendent."  On purpose.  Now I want to spell things right, but I make little letter switches, and I can't see the word clearly in my head, like I used to.

 I'm stuck reading the same few books: Catch-22, Life of Pi, and the first few chapters of Gone with the Wind.  Obviously this needs to stop.  I need to reinvigorate myself with a love of reading.  I just don't know how.  I've already read all the books from the downstairs book closet that I want to, and the Fiction section at the local library scares me.  There, every time you turn your head there's another cheap romance novel.  Who wants to read those?  So I confine myself to the Non-fiction section and wander past the biographies, gardening, carpentry, and art books.  I really don't mind them all, I've actually learned a lot from the Non-fiction shelves, but it's hard to throw yourself into a book like that, where everything is real and boring.  

I think if I just find some good books, I'll be set, and I'll start reading again.  I want to know that a good book is waiting for me at home, that someone else's life and problems are lying in my chair, ready for me to pick up at anytime, and that I can shut anytime I want.  I love reading, but I just can't!

Fur Collage

Hello.  So, ever since last post, I've been even more obsessed with furs and animal pelts and such.  I've been combing through websites thick with fur pictures, from ones of women draped in vintage furs, to galleries of furs used in modern designs.  And today, I am going to send a barrage of those photos your way.  Here we go.

I think my future husband and I should dress in matching fur coats.

This is a classic picture.  With the happy smirk, the brush of hair falling in her face, the hand clutching her coat closed, the sun streaming through the trees.  Classic.

I love the strategic shearing with these coats. (Yes, I almost made the "shear perfection" joke)

Look at that hood.  I feel like you could disappear into that hood.  It'd be like a little retreat for your face during an ethereal ramble in the woods through the snow-laden trees.

This one looks like its another traipse in the crisp air.  But not a forest, this one's a frost-covered field in November.

This one is just incredibly sexy.  It needs no words.

I think this is the one my dad is getting for me!  Isn't she cute?

This is beyond words.  How absolutely, excruciatingly awesome.  Girls, don't tell me you're not irresistibly attracted to this man.  Guys, you know you want one of these yourself so you can be as BA as this guy.

Well, this is the end of my fur photos.  Hope you had fun.  Did you enjoy that last one?  I wish that guy was my uncle.  Holy moses, I just noticed the fur bikinis his women are wearing.  I want one of those hats.