The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors


I always intend to get these posts up Sunday night or Monday, but somehow it usually winds up being Thursday instead.

So, we're back from vacation, obviously. Visited family for about 10 days, survived the 8-hour drive each way (just barely), gained 1-2 pounds thanks to various forms of deadly food, and went through the usual cycles of "Yay!" and "Grrrr" that being with family seems to entail.

The deadly food included many Monster Cookies (Eugene), dessert every night at my parents' house (why?), giant malted milk balls from the Market Of Choice, eating out too much, and a trip to Voodoo Donuts. Voodoo Donuts is a hole-in-the-wall spot in downtown Portland, situated next to a nude-male-review theater (I think). The customer-area is very small (great decor, for the limited space), and its main novelty attractions are deadly concoctions like the maple-bar-with-bacon donut, the Captain-Crunch-festooned donut, the Cocoa-Puffs-festooned donut, etc. They also have a cock-and-balls donut (the store location may explain why), and something called a Tex-Ass donut which I did not see. It's good for a one-time trip, but I wouldn't do it again (especially not with that 45-minute line, midday during the week!)

Visiting my parents entails problem-solving. Getting enough exercise there is hard-- my choices are running (blazing sun, no shade), walking (almost useless compared to my usual), and hoping that one of them will chaperone me for an hour at the community gym (the chaperone is required) when I'd rather work out for 80-90 minutes. They never want to go anywhere, and don't understand why we HAVE to get the kids out of the house before we all go nuts. My Dad can and does sit in his barcolounger in his dark gloomy living room for nearly the entire day, once his half-hour of treadmill-walking is over. Makes me stir-crazy. And his drinking has crept up again (he's a high-functioning alcoholic, in major denial), back to where it was when I was growing up.

Visiting my sisters in Portland is great, in terms of things to do and fun cousins for the kids. The challenge there is one of coping with the random/late mealtimes when my hypoglycemia starts ratcheting up. There's nothing like heading into a blood-sugar crash and hearing someone say that maybe we should go out to eat someplace in about an hour. Oh, Hell no! Thank god for that protein powder I took along. The talking/etc. are wonderful though-- never enough time for that.

We got caught up on S4 of Burn Notice at my parents' (they have cable), and I read lots of murder mysteries. The standout was Brian Wiprud's Stuffed, featuring a taxidermist whose purchase of an albino crow leads to unimaginable trouble. The story blurb and a review stating "Wiprud is either insane or genious!" were why I chose that one. Utterly cracktastic! Christopher is reading it now, having finished The Eyre Affair (because he read all of his own books on the trip up- not the first time that's happened). I'll be putting more books by Wiprud on hold at the library now.

Back to the work grind and the home routine all over again. Meh. I feel like walking blubber, but I miss the lack of responsibility!

Almost forgot: a couple of book covers I've seen lately have sure got me thinking. Check out War (does that face remind you of anyone?), and The Rainbow Boys (I swear that's actually Matt Bomer in the back, and the kid in the baseball cap looks like a slightly dorkier version of Jensen. Coincidence?!?)

Tags: books, me

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