My girl parts are pink! Film at eleven.

Good news! Anyone following the Saga Of My Cervix will know that I had displasia (abnormal cells) and had surgery about a year and a half ago to remove it/them. On Monday I went in for a Pap smear and today I got a phone call that the lab results came back and everything is normal.

Party in my pants!

Annika, this is your life.

Last night while laying in bed in that pre-sleep state that tends to haunt us for a period of time anywhere between one minute and five hours, Will and I had an interesting conversation.

Here's how it went: Will named all of the things I do that make him angry. I defended myself as best I could. We decided which things I would no longer do.

Because we were tired, we only covered two of my various and sundry behaviors that bother him:

• Summoning elder gods in the living room: I have agreed, reluctantly, to stop doing this. It seems that the main problem is not the elder gods themselves, nor even the summoning, but the sticky mess that is left afterwords. I told him that I was going to clean it up, and if he had just left it alone I would have done so eventually, but does he listen? No. So no more playdates with Cthulu for me.
  
  
• Putting curses on his mother: We left this one at a draw. He says that it will come back to bite me in the ass, I say that at 58 none of the curses I inflict on her will be really noticeable. I mean, her skin is going to sag a little anyway, right? And what's a little insanity at that age? Still, I suspect that he will win in the end.

Before all that, I tried to eat his cockles. He thanked me for something-or-other from the bottom of his heart; I just wanted a wee taste. Honestly - he is so oversensitive.

Blah blah blah

Wil Wheaton dot net

Will (that's Will with two ells) told me to update my blog, so here I go. Unfortunately, I have absolutely nothing to say. I'm really sorry. In an attempt to make up for it, I offer you this. I personally prefer to make my own, but the generator is lots of fun.

Which reminds me, I need to find the Hate Mail Generator. That thing is priceless.

In conclusion, legalizing gay marriage is necessary in order for our country to live up to its mission statement.

The end.

Huh.

I discovered the other day (via CowardNet) that I am linked to on a blog by someone I don't know. That's kind of neat. I confess, my first thought was along the lines of Who the hell is this person? Why didn't she at least send me a note letting me know that she was linking to me? My second thought, about three seconds later, was something like But maybe I do know her! Think, Annika, think! Who is she?

Then I realized that it is just fucking cool either way.

Whoever she is, everyone should send her some good mojo. It sounds like she could use it. And if anyone can tell me who she is and whether I know her, that would be great. I do tend to obsess over the little things.

I am red-red-red.

I am 25 and I just got the first sunburn of my adult life. I look awful in these pictures, and not because of the burn. I had just woken up. Please ignore my face.

As a special bonus, there are also some photos of the beauteous CassyLee dancing in a stunning red dress, and a picture of the runner we bought from the craft area at the fair.

If every weekend could be as fabulous as this one, I wouldn't mind being burned. I am, after all, Sicilian - it will be a tan by tomorrow afternoon.

Testing BlogThis! - slightly terrified of it.

I was under the impression that BlogThis! was a feature of the new google toolbar. I have the old google toolbar, and BlogThis! is elsewhere on my browser thingummy. This isn't a problem, I am just overwhelmed by technology, or something.

Why I hate beer

I don't drink beer. I don't like it. For one thing, it's carbonated, which I find to be utterly disgusting. I also do not drink soda of any kind, or champaign, or...anything else that is carbonated.

But the reason that I hate beer is not because I dislike drinking it. I hate it because it is inconvenient to not drink it.

Take tonight, for example. (I know it says it's Friday, but I am still awake from Thursday.) We went to Jenn's for dinner, which was lovely. She and Will drank Shiner Bock, I drank apple juice. I love apple juice, and wouldn't have wanted alcohol anyway, because my head hurt.

By the time dinner was over, my head felt better. While we were eating, Alan had called Will to remind him that tonight Nova (not New York Nova, LA Nova - I know, what are the odds?) was having a birthday party at some bar. (I can't remember what it's called. It was nice.) Because we love Nova (she is So Fucking Hot), and she had specifically requested our presence, we drove over to say howdy. Will asked me what I wanted to drink; I froze. I often order a Maker's Mark on the rocks at bars, because I like bourbon and can sip it leisurely. But I didn't want bourbon. So I asked for a margarita - rocks, salt. It was taking a chance, as approximately 97% of bartenders cannot make a decent margarita to save their own skin, but it was what I wanted. It was delicious, and I finished it much more quickly than I usually finish my drinks. But it took about five minutes for him to make it, whereas Will's beer was out of the cooler and in his hand inside of 15 seconds. I wasn't annoyed at having to wait. But I was annoyed at not drinking something quick and easy.

Where is the non-beer drinker's beer? I want something that will not take up the barkeep's time, that will be delivered to me quickly, and that is cool and refreshing! It isn't fair.

More on this "outside" stuff

Immediately following my previous entry, I disconnected from the internet. Will phoned as I was coming downstairs to look for my shoes, and I informed him that I was Going Out. "So I read," he told me. Ha ha. He's so witty. I swear he reads my blog a thousand times a day - insane stalker. Anyway, after I hung up the phone I noticed that it was nearly 4:00 and decided to check the mail before leaving. This served two purposes - the obvious (checking the mail) as well as getting me off the hook for any "exercise" while "outside." This is because I have to traverse about a mile and a half of hallway, not to mention two flights of stairs, to get to the mailbox.

To my joy, today's mail included my first new issue of the New Yorker since I resubscribed. Alas, the bill for said subscription also arrived, but I hastily filed it in a Pile of Papers.

Being a flexible sort of person (not that kind of flexible - well, all right, that too), I decided to Read My Magazine instead of Driving Around. To my credit, I opted to do so on the porch, which is actually much closer to the "outside" than our car.

Exhibiting my True Nature (Survivalism?) I collected the necessary items for my journey:

• Magazine (obviously)
  
• Ice water
  
• Cigarettes
  
• Lighter
  
• Telephone
  
• Cell phone, as I had told Will that I wouldn't be home
  
• Journal and pen

I don't suppose I really need to mention that as soon as I got outside I felt the need to blog about it. *sigh* It's a good thing I didn't opt to cough up the extra cash for wireless internet. Or is it?- then I'd be sure to spend more time on the porch, most likely amusing the neighbors by yelling at the laptop for its deficiencies.

Maybe if we don't spend that $18/month on beer, pizza and toys (Ha!) I will use it to upgrade the laptop to a Functioning Computer.

I did eventually get around to reading my magazine. As always, it was quite good, and as always I found myself thinking that it was probably better around 1948 or so. I also got a phone call from my friend John.

After about 2 hours I decided that I ought to check on "indoors," which I am happy to report is still here.

My Imaginary Friend

I like to pretend that Wil Wheaton is my friend. I facilitate this by reading his blog, and more recently by receiving email from him regularly. Granted, this email is notification of updates to said blog, sent to a Topica mailing list that I joined, but whatever. It's my fantasy.

Today I did the Craziest Thing Ever.

I sent him an email. Clearly my delusions have gotten out of hand . I have decided to rectify the situation by exploring this thing I found this morning called "outside." I'd seen it previously through windows and such, but thought it was yet another product of my fabulous imagination. A quick internet search tells me that it either a) does exist or b) is a mass delusion, like cults have. I dislike scenario b, so I've decided to try leaving the house. I have $11 that I shouldn't spend, so it should be fun.

ieSpell is out, Sylvia is in.

I spent about 40 minutes on the phone with a service representative named Sylvia from SBC this afternoon. When all was said and done, I had DSL (active next Tuesday), had switched long-distance service (active tomorrow) and had managed to save approximately $18/month.

Screw you, MSN! Fuck you and your crappy, overpriced dial-up! But, um, not until next Tuesday. Edit: I forgot to say - Fuck you, AT&T, as well.

Conversation that took place immediately thereafter:

Will: So I can have $18 a month to spend on toys?
Me: Don't be ridiculous! This is a partnership, you can have nine.
Will: A partnership, eh? The house had better be spotless when I get home.

Needless to say, he'll be getting the full $18.

Note(s) to self

Dear Self,

First of all, you're really pretty. Stop believing the photographs taken in bad lighting and look in the damn mirror.

Second, please start writing down your passwords. Seriously, you can write them on a piece of paper and leave it next to the computer. Who the hell could steal it? Only Will uses this computer, and he doesn't give a crap about your various online accounts.

Third, I think you need to remind yourself that you give excellent advice. It might be a good idea to take some of your own advice once in a while.

Fourth, if you want to be able to keep calling yourself a writer, you need to write. I know that you feel too busy some days, but seriously - you aren't. Stop procrastinating.

Fifth, stop spreading yourself so thin. You know what I'm talking about.

Sixth, there is NO number six.

Love,
Me

ieSpell is my new best friend.

All of my former best friends can fuck off.

Except Will! Don't fuck off, I love you. ieSpell is my second-best friend.

In other news, I got a slip in the mailbox informing me that a Mysterious Parcel is waiting for me at the post office. Normally the postman writes either the sender's name or the zip code. This one just says "Ohio." It isn't from my father, which leads me to believe that it may, possibly, be a parcel containing a dead hooker. Ooh! Or I might have a secret admirer! (Or both.)

Damn my sense of right and wrong!

I had the best idea ever for a novel. It would be a best seller and I would make a ton of money. There is no question of it.

Unfortunately, it would be blatant plagiarism. Damn it.

Another Quizilla craze has been started by P@

Threat rating: Medium. Your total lack of decent
family values makes you dangerous, but we can
count on some right wing nutter blowing you up
if you become too high profile.


What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Good lord, it has a typo. And I can't fix it! This will drive me crazy, and I will probably be forced to remove it from my blog after I look at it.

A tiny bit more on education and homeschooling

Eileen left a comment which I am going to repeat here so that my reply will be noticed.

Therefore, my children will learn naturally, which I will facilitate by not
sending them to school.



I understand why you dislike the educational system so much (although I don't necessarily agree) and why you'd want to homeschool your children.  And it would be great if everybody who felt the same way did that too because the system would have to change for the better.  But most
people won't do that and I don't really blame them.  It's a bit of a catch 22 problem.  The only way to change the system is to go against the system, but unless enough people go against it, the system will carry on the way it is and the people that go against it will be screwed.  Aren't you concerned that by home schooling your children, because they don't have official qualifications (and I don't mean degrees and stuff, just basic high school diplomas), they'll be penalised when they're older.  They may be the smartest people on the planet but the fact! is, at the moment, qualifications are an important thing.

I was homeschooled (with the exception of grades 4 through 8, which is ages 9 through 13), and I have a high school diploma. There are many ways, all of them legal, of homeschooling. (There are illegal ways, too, but I am not going to get into them because I plan to go the legal route.) All of the ways include the possibility of a diploma. Among the literal thousands of homeschooling choices are enrolling your children in the local school system, which will only work with certain schools and will probably require them to take standardized tests once a year; Enrolling them at Clonlara, and amazing school which is legally considered a correspondence school but actually only requires quarterly reports and converts the way you are spending your time into school credits, giving you a diploma at the end; and, in California, registering your home as a private school. We also have the GED in America (don't know if other countries have it), which is a high school equivalency diploma. It is generally looked down upon, though at least in California colleges and employers are required to treat it exactly the same as a "proper" high school diploma. I myself was enrolled in Clonlara for two years, but I found that even a quarterly report was taking away too much of my freedom, so I opted to get a GED. It was a laughably easy test, probably because it is geared toward adults who are re-entering the workforce (or immigrants who need jobs) and need a high school diploma. (That was in New York state, I don't know what the test is like elsewhere.) It is also worth noting that Ivy League schools in America do not require a high school diploma. It is undeniable that most employers these days require not only a high school diploma but a college degree as well, but that is another issue.

I agree with you that it is a bit of a Catch-22, but the only solution (for me) is to take action and do what I believe in, and hope that people will follow my example and the examples of the other families who make the same choices.

It's my birthday again!

I hope this doesn't mean I'm 26 already. I was just starting to enjoy 25.

Yesterday I left the house for the first time in an eternity, and while I was out both UPS and the post office tried to deliver packages to me. Typical! So today I waited until UPS came to redeliver, signed for the package from my mum and my sister, opened it with glee, and then walked down to the post office to pick up the package they were holding, which was from my favorite family on earth that I am not a part of (not counting the Ingalls family).

From my sister I got a 4 pack of match boxes with pin-up girls on them, which I doubt I will use because they are so pretty, and a metal case with another pin-up girl that has a card inside informing me that it will hold three tampons or cigars. This made me laugh hysterically. Besides, I use OB, so I could probably fit about 10 tampons in there [/TMI]. From my sister and mom I got the prettiest little silver box, and when I popped it open I discovered that it is a teensy portable ashtray. Now, I ask you, what sort of message is my mother trying to send? (Clearly, the answer is that I should switch to cigars.)

From Pat, Stephanie, Saren and Harper I got monkey soap. I got other stuff, but I am still giggling like a little girl, trying to figure out how they got the monkey in the soap. Right, they also sent a pretty purple embroidered bag, a pair of funny/pretty socks (what? they're both), and a little silver box that has dragon flies on it and is not a portable ashtray. There was also an assortment of beautiful drawings, and the prettiest pen I have ever seen. I think they may have beaten Cassie for sheer number of gifts.

I forgot to mention that in the box with the gifts from mum and K was a huge stack of books mum had set aside for me a while back - mostly Kurt Vonnegut novels. I think I now own every one of his published works with the exception of Cat's Cradle, which I have read anyway.

I have been meaning to blog about my traumatic pizza experience on Tuesday, but it is still too awful to think about. I will just say this: JR at Papa John's on Vermont Avenue, I know where you work.

I don't want a job! Film at eleven.

Kirk responded to this entry, and I'd like to address some of the issues he brought up.

Unjobbing? I don't get it. isn't it good that someone takes away your garbage once a week? Jobs seem kind of a necessary thing to me, and certainly not a bad thing. (Not that jobs = bad was stated explicitly, but it seemed to be implied.)

I do find these entries interesting, but inevitably there are things in life that are not lofty pursuits yet are undeniably necessary.

I never said anything about lofty pursuits. In fact, I am talking about quite the opposite, at least in one way of looking at things.

I will talk about my definition of unjobbing, but can't speak for the author of the book, because it made me very angry in ways I haven't figured out or dealt with yet. It may be unfair of me to use the term, but I already have and I like to be consistent. (I also haven't got a better term.)

You infer that "jobs = bad" which, in the most simplistic way of taking my meaning, is what I meant, but it isn't the entirety of what I was talking about. I also was only saying that jobs were bad for me. I don't speak for the other six billion people.

One thing from Unjobbing that I really, really agreed with was the job does not equal work, and vice versa. Work is, and should be, the use of your talents. It should be an activity that you get something out of. That doesn't necessarily mean that it is an activity you enjoy, strictly speaking, but that you are rewarded, in one way or another, for your efforts. I do not mean a monetary reward. That is separate.

Some people, like myself, are inclined toward creative work. I personally do not want one of the so-called creative jobs out there. I want to actually be creative, which I find rewarding. I also want to eat, so I am trying to figure out ways that I can put my talents to use and receive additional (monetary) rewards for them. This might include freelance writing, volunteering at events (which, in past experience, is the best way to "network" - meet people who might have helpful ideas for me), and crocheting. Yes, I said crocheting. No, I haven't worked out the details of that one yet.

Here is an example: I consider the things I do at Buffyguide to be work. I enjoy helping Jamie with the episode guide (though I've been terribly lax about it), I like participating in the forums, and I feel useful enforcing the forum rules. Yes, there are times when it feels like a soul-sucking job. But I have no set hours, and there are few expectations for me to meet (that matter - I'm not talking about other users' expectations), and I can leave for a week if I want to, or ask someone else to take care of a problem, and no one will think less of me or discipline me, nor am I likely to get "fired." The downside to having this work that I enjoy doing is that it does not, and will never, pay money. I still do it, though, because I like it and it is a good experience. I haven't asked Jamie if it's all right, but it occurs to me that I could probably even put it on my resume.

I look at the work I do at Buffyguide, the work I am doing to put up my new website, and the work I do at home (whether it is laundry, writing, or cooking) as equally valid, fulfilling forms of work. It happens that I am not being paid for any of them*, which means that I am a jobless loser (not your words, Kirk, a generalized stereotype). I, however, look at them as a template for future work, and hope that some of that will eventually bring along income as a perk.

*The fact that I have a partner who is willing to pay the bills while I pursue my dreams is more than payment for any of the less agreeable tasks, and an unbelievable bonus for the ones I enjoy.

Some people, not very much like me, are technically inclined. Some are service-oriented (which I think might just be another word for "people person"). Some are very strong. The list goes on. I think that if people were offered fair hours (possibly flexible, depending on the sort of work), fair pay, and a friendly environment, they would still choose to do "undesirable" work. Do I think anyone's first choice is to be a garbage collector? Not really. But on the other hand, it is a city job, which means that there are fantastic benefits. I can easily imagine person X taking a part-time job for the city, collecting trash, in exchange for more time at home with his/her family and medical insurance to boot. In fact, in some respects it sounds like a better job than office work.

If wanting time to be oneself, to enjoy one's family, and to simply be are lofty pursuits, then that it what I am talking about. But if a lofty pursuit is Rock Superstar or Media Mogul, I say "No thanks."

Well, that was quick.

Dear Blogger,

You retard.

love,
me

Totally useless.

In my Quest for More Knowledge, I decided to read up on both Waldorf and Montessori schools, both of which I have some knowledge of, but not very much. I really couldn't tell you the main differences between the two, and I'd like to be able to. Will and I have been talking about life, the universe, and everything quite a lot lately, and that includes our future children's educations. We have agreed on unschooling, but I confess that the cynic in me wants to be prepared to defend our choice. I also just like knowing stuff.

So I found a web page of a former unschooler, which included links to websites for both types of schools. Great, I thought, all I had to do was think about it and the information fell into my lap! Well, not so much. The sites were utterly, totally useless. Links that went nowhere, PDF files that crashed my browser, and FAQs with no answers. What the hell? I am very disappointed.

If anyone has useful links to information about either type of school, please let me know. If not, please scroll to the next entry, which is about a Very Important Person.

Smoking out the window, feeling far away...

Fans of Concrete Blonde will get the reference. For anyone else, it's from the song "Happy Birthday." Today is my friend Katherine's 25th birthday. I often joke that we are evil twins, but in all seriousness she is a great friend and an amazing woman, and I am honored to know her.

I am wearing my great-grandmother's ring.

I assume it's a wedding band, but I suppose it could be an engagement ring or just, you know, a ring. It's a band of diamond chips in white gold. There are probably 30 diamonds, but it might be 29. I can't seem to get an accurate count, because the damn thing is circular. Anyway, it's very pretty, and I felt like wearing it. It occurs to me now, about an hour after putting it on, that I was looking at the top of my dresser because I was thinking that I really needed to dust it. I forgot.

So, last night the bad smell went away rather quickly (it was probably coming from outdoors), and I never did go hide in the bathroom, but Will and I went for a walk so I never came back to finish my entry. And now I don't really feel like it, though I will say that The Big Easy was terrific. We walked past the Wiltern Theater (it's at the corner of Wilshire and Western, and it's called the Wiltern), where there was a Special Events Awards Ceremony. We'd walked that way to see where the pretty lights were coming from. It looked like quite a nice event, and I suddenly pined for my days in New York. Not my recent visit, but the last time I lived there. I went to events like that all the time, because I worked for Gen Art and actually ran some events. I helped to put together a first-time film festival which went on to be quite successful (though I don't know if it is still happening), and helped coordinate some art showings. It was so nice, and I hope to do something similar again in my lifetime.

Is it possible to have sex with celluloid?

We just watched The Big Easy. I really liked it. I would talk more about it, but something smells awful and I'm going to go hide in the bathroom. Even if the bad smell follows me in there, I have scented crap to save me in there.

Think globally, act locally.

Will and I had a long conversation last night about...well, about a lot of things, but if I must choose a label, I'd say it was a political conversation. One of the things we talked about was how so many people are loud about a cause without actually doing anything useful. Not only that, but so many of those loud people are utterly self-righteous about it, as though they are somehow better than everyone else because they recycle/eat vegan/insert good thing here. Will mentioned a person he saw recently whose car was plastered in bumper stickers with slogans like "Make Love, Not War," "Hug a Child, Save A Tree," and assorted other well-intentioned but somewhat absurd sentiments (I am all for hugging children and saving trees, but that bumper sticker just doesn't make any sense). This person wanted the world to see that they were environmentally and politically concious - in theory, there is nothing wrong with that. But if they are so concerned about the world, they should not have been laying on the horn while the guy ahead of them in traffic, driving the BMW and talking on his cell phone, was waving some pedestrians across the street. I'm sorry, but who is the better person there? I think it's the "asshole" in the Beamer.

People are getting it wrong. They are thinking globally and "acting" globally - by spending too much time worrying, yelling, and gesturing wildly about the world's problems. I agree with them, the world is in a bad way. But the only way to fix the world is to start by fixing the people (and things) around you. Take care of yourself, your family, and your community. If everyone did this, even a tiny bit more than they do now, the rest would have to follow. There is no other logical way that it could go. This doesn't mean that we should put on blinders to the rest of the world and ignore things like war and poverty and disease, but that we should concentrate our energy on fixing the things closest to us. I think that this should include a level of awareness of and involvement in things like our government, but only to the degree that we are able. We should pick and choose our battles when they are outside of our homes, because personal happiness will open up opportunities to help on a grander scale.

One example of this is work. I realized a while back that I simply do not want a job. I came to terms with that very recently, and am now concentrating on figuring out what I do want. I borrowed Unjobbing: the Adult Liberation Handbook from the library yesterday, because Stephanie had read it and was inspired by it. I confess, I didn't like it. This is very likely not the author's fault. He wrote the book with the intention of helping people realize why the current "work" system and economy are harmful to us. Possibly because I already understand those things, I found his writing to be somewhat preachy. I'm sure this was not his intention, and even more sure that his book would be very helpful to a lot of unhappy people. But I am happy, and what I really wanted was a book like The Teenage Liberation Handbook, but for adults. In other words, I crave suggestions of things that I can do instead of consuming my life with "work" that I do not enjoy or get much out of. At the same time, I do need money. The system will not change overnight, even for me, because I like many of the modern conveniences and "advances." So I must find a balance. I would very much like to reduce my life of clutter and do things that are better for my environment. But I also have no intention of drastically changing my lifestyle.

I do, and will continue to do (hopefully increasingly) what I can. I do not approve, for example, of our country's compulsory education system. Therefore, my children will learn naturally, which I will facilitate by not sending them to school. Does this change the schooling system? Not in an immediate sense, but it certainly will make my family healthier and happier. And the more people that do things like this, the closer we will be to a point where the system will have no choice but to change. Imagine, for example, if every family who disapproved of the school system was able to (and did) take their children out of it. The schools would lose so much money that they would be forced, eventually, to change.

I am too realistic in my thinking to consider myself an idealist, but there is no denying that I am a hopeless optimist. I think that is a good thing.

More birthday stuff and a movie

I would like nothing better than to turn this blog into The chronicles of Annika's birthday gifts, but I probably will not do so. I do want to mention, though, that Heath and Jess rock! This morning I went to the post office and picked up a parcel containing 5 discs of Cowboy Bebop, including the movie. If this damn codex package ever finishes downloading, I will even be able to watch them! And, since the regular DVD player doesn't recognize the discs, this may (may) help to push me to reorganize the office the way I want it, which would make for a more comfortable viewing area.

Last night Will and I watched From Hell, based on the Alan Moore comic book (which neither of us has actually read). It was interesting, and mostly good, but far from great. For the majority of the movie I felt as though the filmmakers were simply trying too hard - it was overly stylistic without having the comic book-y stylistic feel. (Of course, like I said, I haven't read the comic book, so I could be wrong.) The performances were fairly good, but the dialogue was erratic at best. I ought to look into whether portions of the script were rewritten, which might explain it. Also, I don't pretend to be an expert of English accents, but I really couldn't tell where Johnny Depp's character was meant to be from. Heather Graham's accent was more consistant (to my ear), which can't be a good thing. The thing that irritated me most about the dialogue was that characters kept repeating other characters' names, as though perhaps the audience hadn't caught them, but then other characters were introduced and never named. It was confusing and, again, inconsistant. And people just don't talk like that. The sets were great, but again felt overdone, like they were trying too hard to recreate the feel of the time period. At least there was tons of gratuitous blood. And Hagrid! I mean...

And the prize for the most surprising birthday gift goes to...

Simon Ball! This morning I walked to the post office with the little slip that says I have a parcel waiting for me, and I came home to find that the Amazon box contained a copy of Amelie! (Sorry, I don't do accents.) Now, I admit, when I read the card with the note from Simon, I should have known what it was, but I didn't. Total surprise, both in content and in the fact that it was from him. Yay! I love you, Simon.

Happy birthday to me.

So, yesterday I turned 25. Thusfar it has not sunk in - either that or it just doesn't mean anything. Until a few years ago, I was unaware of any stigma relating to the 25th birthday. Then Will had his, and moaned for weeks about being a quarter of a century old. So I was concerned that I would also panic, but I didn't. I suppose it helped that the first (well, one of the first) thing he said to me yesterday morning was "Twenty-five. A great age." Though it occurs to me that he might be feeling the fact that he's now closer to 30.

The one thing that is odd about this birthday is that I am now the age my mother was when I was born.

So, a brief rundown of my day: Got up, made coffee, drank coffee while finishing my book, woke up Will and told him to play with me, realized that he wouldn't be awake until he'd had at least one cup of strong coffee, checked the WD, saw that my favorite lesbian had returned just to make my birthday post (I love you, Julia), had leftover Mexican food from the 4th, listened to the same Yma Sumac song on repeat pretty much all day, discussed our new series with Will, played Trivial Pursuit, danced around the apartment, went out for delicious sushi, watched parts of some favorite movies, did something Not Fit To Print with my boyfriend, had ice cream, worked more on the series, and had a few phone calls wishing me a happy birthday.

The phone calls, which deserve their own paragraph, were from: My mother, my father, my sister, Saren (and Pat), Lisa Beth, John, and Phoebe. The last two reached my voicemail and left very sweet messages, John accusing me of being Otherwise Engaged and Phoebe singing Happy Birthday to me. If anyone else called and I forgot, I'm very sorry.

And now, I have laundry to wash and dust to banish from my house.

It could only have been less appropriate if I made tea.

Today was, of course, Independence Day. To celebrate, I cooked Mexican food. I know - what? But shut up, it was good.

On the menu:

• Carne Asada with homemade marinade
  
• Fresh salsa (along the lines of Pico de Gallo)
  
• Guacamole
  
• Quesadillas (made with queso fresco)
  
• Tortilla chips. That I made.
  
• And a big ol' mess of onions and jalapenos, cooked to the edge of death.

Man, was it good. Oh, and there were margaritas and Mexican beer (Modelo, for those keeping score at home. Also for those keeping score at home, it is not quite possible to make a black and tan with Modelo Especial and Negra Modelo.)

The Birthday List

I will update this entry as I receive junk from my loved ones.

From CassyLee:

• Buffy season 4 DVD set
  
• The Art of Gormenghast
  
• Robert Gordon CD
  
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (because I am impatient, I had already bought this, so it is up for discussion whether I will keep it, return it, or give it to a needy soul.)

From my mommy:

• A Kitchenaid standing mixer in bee-yoo-tee-ful red

From Jenn:

• A journal with faux suede cover and finely ruled pages
  
• The Parker Grey Show, a novel that I read about at a blog I read.

From Simon:

• Amelie on DVD.

From Eaf and Grr:

• Cowboy Bebop

to be continued... (I hope)