My life

Stolen from my friend the unprincess . (Thank you!)

My Life (taken from the American Express ads)

childhood ambition: To be an engineer on a train and marry a prince.

first job: Enchantments, a now defunct sci-fi and fantasy bookstore in my hometown.

last purchase: Celebes coffee, from 1369 Coffee Roasters.

indulgence: Belly dance costumes

fondest memory: Mr. Fizz asking me to marry him. On a plane. After carrying the ring in his bag for TWO WEEKS and keeping it a total secret.

soundtrack: A mix of NPR, classic rock, and belly dance music.

retreat: The TV room with Mr. Fizz, or my dance room to sew.

wildest dream: Fiji! New Zealand! The western half of Isle Royale! Or buying a grand old Victorian in Cambridge. Or relocating to the south of France for a few years. My life is full of wild dreams.

proudest moment: Wow. I don’t know. I’ll probably reserve this for when I have kids.

biggest challenge: Living up to others’ expectations.

alarm clock: Sounds just like my timer in lab, so I pop out of bed thinking I have to stop some reaction or other.

perfect day: Something relaxing involving walks by the river, puttering around the house, and meals cooked by Mr. Fizz. And sailing.

favorite movie(s): Princess Bride, Labyrinth, Last Unicorn.

inspiration: My parents, Mr. Fizz, women who successfully juggle a career and family.

My life: Needs a few more hours per day.

My card: is AmEx only if Mr. Fizz is paying for it. Otherwise, yay visa!

An ode to my serger

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways….

No, really. I sat down to sew some stuff last night, and, for the first time in the year since I got it, I had the occasion to actually USE my serger. And what a fabulous serger it is! Although I am a little bit scared of it because I have no idea how to re-thread it if it should come unthreaded, I love, love, LOVE what it does for my sewing. No more frayed edges, no more unsightly unraveling…how did I ever make ANYTHING without my beloved serger?

Mr. Fizz is fabulous!

We had guests over for dinner last night, and, since I was totally beyond all reason tired Mr. Fizz was kind enough to not only cook a fabulous dinner for six (risotto and his tuna eggplant stack thing) but also clean up after it! The kitchen was spotless this morning when I dragged my sorry ass out of bed at the crack of dawn.

Yay fabulous husband!

Boo early mornings at work!

This is, hands down, the LONGEST week ever. All I want to do is get through tomorrow, and then I am done. Done, done, done!

At least until Monday.

Weekend Update

We had yet another jam packed weekend, most of which I can’t remember.

Friday I performed at one of my usual venues – there was a pretty good crowd for a Friday night, though I made 60% of my tips from one guy at one table (yay, people who tip in $10s!). I had one old guy wink at me and say, “You sure deserve this!” as he tipped me (and of course followed the tip with that slap on the side that always reminds me of how people slap horses on the rump when they want them to trundle off into the pasture and graze…I don’t know WHY on earth people think it’s okay to tip and slap, though I think to some extent they don’t even realize they do it.)

ANYWAY, Saturday involved a long stint in lab which made me miss karate class, so instead I hiked to the school’s gym and watched the Discovery Kids channel while using the elliptical. Got home just in time to welcome our friends A and N from New Hampshire, who had planned to come down on Friday but were forced to cancel because of the blizzard. We got them settled and then headed off to the karate studio’s annual holiday party which featured a magic show by the magician that had trained Mr. Fizz oh-so-long ago. (On a side note for all the geeks out there: knowing a good magic trick or three really does help pick up the chicks…that is, after all, how Mr. Fizz roped me into dating him back in high school!). The magician was excellent – the tricks were fabulous, but his banter with the audience (and his ability to keep several dozen kids under 6 occupied for an hour) was even better. I certainly have some ideas for Mr. Fizz’s 30th birthday blowout.

From the magic show we went to our respective parents’ houses for a few hours, and then regrouped to go to a post-thesis-defense party for my labmate. I was the only one representing from the lab (labmate lives in the ‘burbs, and few of my other labmates have cars….), so naturally I cornered my labmate’s wife and chatted about her son (adorable!) and kids in general for a bit. Then on again to a restaurant to meet up with A and N and K and T (ooooh…KANT!) for dinner. We ate at our local Ethiopian place, where we’ve been one too many times this year. The food is good, but…just…too much!

Sunday started with brunch, then I took off for a gig and A and N left for NH. The gig started out rather ominously – the CD I painstakingly compiled hadn’t burned, a fact I only noted once I was already on the road. So at the next stoplight I jumped out of the car and rifled through my gig suitcase to find another suitable CD. Located one, played it during the drive to remember the music. Once I arrived at the restaurant, I popped the CD into my portable CD player to make sure it could read it. No prob. Got into the restaurant without the birthday boy noticing, changed in the bathroom, handed my props to the birthday boy’s wife. She started my music…and it would play a few bars and then…silence. Very bad. Fortunately the restaurant had a sound system, so I got the audience clapping and pulled out my turban and hip scarf and dressed up the birthday boy (who was a very good sport about it all). My music finally came on, and I managed to get through three songs before the restaurant staff stopped it. I told them to start it again, and they did…from the first song. At which point I threw caution to the wind and bellowed up to the balcony where the CD player was, “TRACK FIVE!!! PUT ON TRACK FIIIIVVVE!” They did, so at least I got to make my big exit.

I apologized profusely for the musical fuck up, but there’s only so much I can do to test the damn CD and rein in the stupidity of the staff. Really. I am really, really hoping that a certain iPod compatible speaker system ends up in my stocking this christmas, because it would drastically cut down the amount of time it takes me to prep for gigs (and the amount of angst due to malfunctioning CDs.

Sunday night we played host to K and T for some cookie frosting (sugar high!) and West Wing with manicotti. West Wing turned out not to be on, so instead we watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, definitely on my list as one of the best holiday movies EVER. Genius.

And that, my friends, was the weekend. We are now launched into probably the most unproductive week ever, as my advisor is gone and I still have christmas shopping to do. And the gym to visit. And so on.


Three things, I think:

1) It’s freakin’ cold out. And in. I don’t know why a major university can’t keep their buildings a wee bit warmer. I shouldn’t have to double lab coat just to be able to feel my fingers.

2) I’m ready to go back to renting an apartment…this whole “owners must clear their sidewalks of snow within x hours of the storm ending” is just no fun at all! Especially with our uneven brick sidewalks and the evil cement steps from hell.

3) Yay Christmas tree! Mr. Fizz was even kind enough to find a space for the tree in our condo…will post pics of it soon.

Back to work.

missin’ my mittens!

Welcome to the first mitten fiasco of the season!

Every winter I blow through one or two pairs of mittens. I always lose ONE of the pair, and it’s usually the left hand mitten. I used to keep a stockpile of very nice mittens you can only find in one little store in the little town of Pitlochry in the middle of Scotland, but after taking one trip to Scotland for the sole purpose of buying mittens I decided to switch to the $12.99 generic Filene’s Basement kind. They’re easier to replace.

So yesterday I settled down to knit as I waited for the subway to arrive, and in my befuddled knitting state I totally forgot to scoop up the mittens I’d set down beside me when I dashed for the train. I took the T one stop, got out, and realized my hands were cold (and my row had acquired an extra stitch…ARGH!). I was early for the dance class I was going to, and really, I couldn’t ALREADY lose the mittens I’d just bought a few days before. So I put away the evil knitting with the extra stitch, jammed my hands in my pockets, and walked back to the original T stop.

I trundled back to the bench I’d been seated on…and no mittens in sight! So I asked the two women sitting on the bench, “Have either of you seen a pair of black leather mittens?” Woman A says, “Yeah! They were just here a minute ago!” and starts actively looking around the bench with me. Woman B, after a pause, opens her purse to reveal my mittens, and obviously has second thoughts about giving her ill gotten gains to a random stranger. “Are you sure you’re looking for mittens and not GLOVES??” she asks, while my mittens are sitting in her purse in plain sight. I confirmed that those mittens in her purse were, indeed, my missing mittens, thanked her (for what? admitting that she’d been about to steal them?), and took off up the platform just as the next train arrived. Talk about timing – a minute later and those mittens would’ve been gone!

I am seriously thinking about crocheting one of those mitten lines you run through the sleeves of your coat to prevent mitten loss.

why I love my husband

On Friday Mr. Fizz was given a toy gun at work – a six shooter that came with nerf-style suction cup bullets. Which meant that Friday night Mr. Fizz and I were doing a complicated duet in the kitchen which involved me trying to climb up his side while he shot suction cup darts at my feet and yelled, “Dance! Dance!”

After a weekend of random walk by shootings and one (sadly) short period on Sunday morning when I successfully hid the gun under a pile of clothes, Mr. Fizz announced yesterday after work that he had stopped at Toys-R-Us and bought me MY VERY OWN GUN! And 30 extra velcro darts (the better to shoot my sweater with, apparently). Mr. Fizz said he looked for a pink gun, but those gender stereotypers in the toy industry didn’t see fit to make one. So I will have to customize my own with swarovski crystals and pink paint and…oh, never mind. If the two guns are identical I can replace Mr. Fizz’s loaded gun with my unloaded one!

Anyway, now I get all jumpy in lab when I hear a loud noise.