I'm over my PMS.

That's the main problem with perimenopause: When I had actual cycles, I could predict the point at which temporary insanity would descend upon me. Now I freak out first, and find out why afterward.

Of course, that just makes me more interesting, colorful, and fun to be around. (Read: a total cunt. That happens to be my own version of the Marabel Morgan approach: a lot less sugar, a lot more spice.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:34 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It's so pretty right now, and relatively cool. I may actually go for a walk before church.

I woke up early, so I'll probably resort to a nap this afternoon. But at the moment, all is well: the birds are singing in the yard, and living in La Canada is like being at summer camp—all year 'round. Nothing but trees everywhere I look.

And the crows—those noisy beasts—are quiet right now. Still no owls, though. Am I supposed to buy my own? Did the city fail to send me a memo?

Will blog for owls. Or Wols; either way.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 06:07 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 I could send you a few buzzards. They are just like Owls, other than they are huge, ugly, and stink. The same way that the NYT resembles honest media. (Was that impolite?)

Posted by: old_dawg at July 01, 2006 07:14 PM (Si1mC)

2 Yes. But in the good way

Posted by: Attila Girl at July 01, 2006 09:31 PM (4IuF2)

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The dinner crowd started filtering in at Denny's, so I wandered, waif-like, into the night in search of a table with a power outlet nearby.

Actually, I've been considering nuking the T-Mobile HotSpot subscription, but I have to admit that this is nice: hot chai to fend off the overzealous air conditioner, and all the web I need.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:54 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I left work after lunch today so I could avoid L.A.'s nastiest freeway and get out to Redondo Beach early, and am now:

1) enjoying free internet access at the big D, while I

2) eat a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with French fries on the side.

Youngsters, beware; this is what illicit thrills look like when you're 43 years old.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:09 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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This year we're hearing and seeing a lot of crows. This might be okay, except that I haven't heard any owls in a while, and if the crow populations have gone up because we don't have enough owls in the neighborhood, we will be plagued soon by bunnies eating our grass.

When that happens, we have to step in to protect, quite literally, our turf.

The only creature that really bothers me is the homo sapiens: there have been far too many of those in the past few years.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 06:44 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The site's back up. Hope you missed me. Absence, after all, makes something-or-other thingamajig.

I'm home, and happy, but after yesterday—volunteer work all morning, then housework and cooking all evening—I'm home, eating lotos flowers and surfing the web.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 03:08 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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"What is this?" my father asked.

"It's boysenberry pancake syrup from Knott's Berry Farm," I told him.

"I'm supposed to put this on the fish?" He seemed startled.

"Just fucking do it," I responded. "And forget what I said it was."

Sure enough, he loved it. "I'd never before thought of treating salmon
as if it were pancakes," he told me. But I'd known that if I heated
that stuff up on the stove and poured it in a gravy boat, it would be
good on fish—which if course I don't even eat.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:28 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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My lime tree has recovered from its acute case of not-being-watered (from a few depressions ago), and it's a lovely day.

I'm up early, and headed out to Culver City to hang with my DA homies for a few hours (Regional Group Board Meetings and whatnot), and then I'm back to make the house slightly less messy before my father and stepmother show up for a nice dinner of grilled lamb and salmon.

Life could definitely be worse.

In other words, sometimes the blessings are so numerous they start counting themselves.

Excelsior.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 06:39 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It should be here in September or so. In the meantime, we're planning on winning a Mercedes for Attila the Hub at our church fundraiser, and then I'm going to win Adam Carolla's Toyota Corolla in early July.

So we'll be okay, car-wise, for a few years. Until my mother decides that we all have to be driving hybrids, right this very minute!

I know what you're thinking. But we're way luckier than average: it's not as far-fetched as you imagine that we'll win two cars within three weeks.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 07:10 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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1 I guess I'll just keep the Saturn Sky that I'm going to win then :-) ...It's a convertible. With leather seats. It would be perfect for your living room or den.

Posted by: Darrell at June 13, 2006 09:43 PM (bEp7v)

2 I need a back seat though . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at June 13, 2006 10:03 PM (4IuF2)

3 I need a back seat though . . . Aren't you and Attila the Hub past that stage?

Posted by: I R A Darth Aggie at June 14, 2006 07:44 AM (1hM1d)

4 Oh, that's right! I forgot! You need a place to set your book bag. And your daily gin purchases. And a few extra pairs of those size 5s--in case your mood varies! :-) Maybe you can pen a really good letter to those folks at "Pimp Your Ride" and they can "engineer" a stretch for you. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt the lines of that car or drive the designer to suicide or anything like that! Maybe they can add a gun safe or two for your ordnance while they're at it? Or a rifle sheath or scabbard like they had on those old Range Rovers in African safari trim....

Posted by: Darrell at June 14, 2006 08:20 AM (8gtuV)

5 Oh, I forgot! A place to set your backpack. And those daily gin purchases. And a few extra pairs of size 5s in case your mood changes. :-) Maybe you can write a really interesting letter to those folks at "Pimp Your Ride" and have them "engineer" a stretch version for you? And maybe add a gun safe or two for your ordnance? And maybe a rifle sheath or scabbard like they had on those Range Rovers in African safari trim...I'm pretty sure it wouldn't drive the designer to suicide or anything like that! GM is pretty cognizant these days about women's "needs!"

Posted by: Darrell at June 14, 2006 08:28 AM (8gtuV)

6 Your damn system! But it does show you I took the time to input the crap again! From scratch!

Posted by: Darrell at June 14, 2006 08:30 AM (8gtuV)

7 Hey--for a small woman, I take up a lot of space.

Posted by: Attila Girl at June 14, 2006 05:53 PM (4IuF2)

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. . . can be real pigeons.

My mom wants to buy a Prius. We've had fun watching the bait-and-switch games, and the prices/interest rates that change, kaleidescope-like.

Tomorrow we'll get together to discuss options and then head to the dealership that hasn't been lying to her. If they can continue to tell the truth and feed us Actual Information, we'll ink the deal.

Never go to one of these places without a writing pad and a pen.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:24 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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. . . how much fun it is to sit around in 90-degree weather with a pillow on one's lap to protect one's knees from a hot computer.

I could turn on the AC, sure. But I'm far too noble and virtuous to do that until we hit 100.

I swear: this summer I'm going to work on one of the balconies. The downstairs one, I think. It's cooler.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:18 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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. . . that cannot be faced when one is fortified on a regular basis by fresh berries, topped with a little creme fraiche.

(I'll add the accents to creme fraiche if someone will give me the html; I'm busy printing out fiction; I'm going to let them have an important reveal tonight, and I'm shakin' in my boots. More later.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:10 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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. . . that I stop at horse crossings, but only slow down for stop signs.

I've explained that I can tell when there's another vehicle at a stop sign, and when there is not. But a stop sign in and of itself is very unlikely to jump out into the street in front of my car, causing a collision.

Whereas large mammals (horses, deer, humans) will do that every now and again.

He appears unconvinced. Which leads me to believe the Sheriff's deputies will likewise be a bit skeptical, should any of them observe my unorthodox approach . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:40 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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We can call it a SoCal snow day. I've caught up on sleep. I dealt with a few of my volunteer commitments, and housework . . . um, no. Shall I watch TV? I'm not walking downstairs unless someone tells me it's going to be worth my while. Is there a new Boston Legal on?

Or shall I just finish re-reading America's Secret War?

I only listen to you, my readers, on these matters. I used to have an id, but I traded it away for a package of crackers.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:58 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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And screw 'em all.

UPDATE: Okay. Slow crowd tonight. Need a hint?

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Prof. Purkinje asks me, "is that the same as your life coach?"

"Of course not," I tell him. "I mean, wouldn't it be weird to have my life coach helping me clear a room out?"

"You know, whenever I mention that I have a friend in L.A. with a life coach, they say something about California . . ."

"Let it go," I respond. "People are narrow that way."

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:51 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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. . . has no comment to make at this time.

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. . . can be interesting. Once in a while we'll be at a place that actually serves booze. So as I drink wine, I can watch him consuming vodka. He will keep up with me, even if I have a second glass of wine. I don't mean that he has a shot of vodka for each glass I drink. I mean that he can literally stay the course, ounce for ounce. Without slurring his words at the end of the meal. I mean, he's built like a football player, but it's still interesting to behold.

The last time it happened I remarked on it: that for each glass of wine I consumed, he'd had the equivalent amount of hard liquor.

"Oh, yes," he conceded. "But then, I'm much bigger than you are."

True enough. I saw a gleam in his eyes, however. The barest sort of enigmatic look. I read it as "you have no idea what I'm thinking about. It might be vodka, but it could even be something like sex." It was that amused, aloof look males like to assume.

And I know him better than anyone. He was thinking about vodka.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:26 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Here's yet another thing I've never heard of before, and yet somehow "need." Topless sandals.

You know: so I won't have those unattractive tan lines from my existing flip-flops.

(Via Lair.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Yes. Attila the Hub finished the Honolulu Marathon yesterday, raising thousands of dollars for cancer research. I cheered him on at mile 5, and near mile 25—along the final incline below Diamond Head.

Based on his projected time of arrival, I had a few hours to kill in that second location, so I ate breakfast (Starbucks coffee, string cheese, cut-up papaya from the local ABC mart). Then I joined with a couple of the locals in cheering the runners up the hill. We clapped and clapped as thousands of people ran, walked, and limped by, and because I'm rather stupid I didn't stop yelling even after it became clear that I was losing my voice. I was having too good a time with my bilingual friends, who taught me how to cheer the runners on in Japanese. (No. I don't remember the phrase I yelled out hundreds of times, exhorting the Japanese to "keep going," because I have a mind like a sieve. However, I'm told I got the pronunciation better than a lot of round-eyes do.)

And when Attila Hub came up the hill I jogged alongside him, even though I was wearing tennis shoes—not running gear. I even tried to sprint to the finish line, though I didn't make it, of course: he was running downhill by then, and he's a good deal taller and fitter than I am. No matter: his sister cheered him over the finish line, quickly repositioning herself after offering some encouragement at the 21-mile mark.

I didn't realize that supporters have to dress as though they are themselves running: wear the proper shoes, for one thing. And train a bit. I guess that means a minimum of four 20-minute workouts during the week, when I'll be cheering, clapping, and jumping up and down. Then there will be a "long cheer" on Sunday afternoons, wherein I'll hold a sign, act excited, and yell for two hours straight. This will take place in my backyard, of course, and ensure that the neighbors continue to give us a wide berth.

Walking along the course early yesterday morning, I passed by the finish line, so I got to see some of the top-50 finishers—those who managed to complete the event in the first few hours. They all looked svelte and young. Whassup with that?

Now I have some sort of vicious mini-bug, so Attila the Hub is sightseeing around the island with his sister while I cough in our hotel room, read a little Richard Miniter, and doze.

No matter. There's a beautiful view from the balcony, and my fever seems to have gone down. In a while I'll go out again and walk by the water. It's safe here: it just doesn't get cold like it does at home. Being sick in paradise is better than being depressed at home.

There is that lovely moment when you know you're getting better, but still need to take it easy. And avoid coughing very wetly on other people.

Sightseeing tomorrow, if I'm up to it and the cough eases up.

Congratulations, Honey.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 06:03 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
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