Sharing the Squee

I know that calliopes_pen already posted this, but I had to share it again for people who might not have her friended. And, well, because I &hearts ed John Barrowman before I knew he could sing. Now that I know he can sing, well, damn. Let's just say there are no words for how much I love him now.

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Sharing the Squee

I know that calliopes_pen already posted this, but I had to share it again for people who might not have her friended. And, well, because I &hearts ed John Barrowman before I knew he could sing. Now that I know he can sing, well, damn. Let's just say there are no words for how much I love him now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-9OjqZujZM

Lampshade Seas

I didn't get everything that I wanted to accomplished today, but I made a dent. I got to the post to mail the 2008 amended Kentucky state taxes, and I returned some online purchases to Old Navy. In the between time, I wandered around various stores aimlessly, which means I didn't get to the tax office in Clarksville or get Ophelia's oil changed. I still have tomorrow and Saturday, though I sort of need to get some sort of money back before going to the tax office because I need to pay up for the 2008 amended Indiana state taxes. Hopefully my federal tax return will come in shortly. The oil change can be done tomorrow.

Later tonight, when most of the dithering idiots on the roads have gone home, I will go to the store. I need groceries and supplies. I am going to be making a King Cake, after all.

Part of my meanderings today took me to a Peddler's Mall aka one huge yard sale under a roof. My dad and I used to frequent those sorts of things all the time. My mom never really had the patience for them, even when she and Dad were married. The Peddler's Malls, thrift shops, Goodwills', yard sales: these were the places my dad and I went. On Sundays after breakfast, crepes as often as possible because my dad makes the best and I would clamor for them, we would climb into whichever of my father's cars he had at that point and start the trek. My dad and I are alike in a lot of ways. We are both the pack rat sort as well as the slow wandering sort. I can wander through a store for hours, picking my way here and there. I don't just go in for certain things; I go seeking sales. My mother likes to get in and out of places. She makes me nervous that way. On my days off, I like to hit up stores and just wander. I look for things on sale, mostly. Things I'm not sure I even need, but things I might need to pick up just because what if I need them later. My father and I are alike in that way. We build stores of things for later or now or never. And we love sales. My father will buy something on sale that he does not need because it's a good price. I'll do the same thing, although my purchases are not the same as his. He buys car parts, tools, solar panels and various kitchen equipment. I buy various kitchen equipment, CDs, DVDs, random electronics, books, boxes. I love boxes. I love things you can hide other things in.

I'm rambling.

This does all tie into today, though. I stopped at a Peddler's Mall and just meandered through it, looking for things. I love Peddler's Malls. There are hidden treasures everywhere. When I was younger, I would search for porcelain unicorns, plastic unicorns (tastefully done) and plaster unicorns. I collected them. They were a treat. I would usually find a few and bring my treasures to my dad. My father has never been able to say no to me. If he takes me shopping, he buys me what I want. I think it's because it's easier for him than words. As such I have no problem equating gifts to affection. It's one of the many reasons I buy things for friends. I'm not a physical affection person. I can be, but it's learned behavior. In general, I am much more comfortable buying someone I care for something than hugging them when they're sad. Anyway, I would wander for hours searching booths for unicorns and then ferrying them to my father who would buy me this and that and then point out where the comics were and wait longer for me. He always carries cash, my father. A roll of cash the like of which I always avoid because I was always told it's dangerous for anyone, especially a girl, to carry that quantity of cash. My father does just that, though. In my mind, no one would ever mess with my father. Not that he's violent or mean or apt to hurt anyone. It's because he towers. When I was a child, he towered. He was tall and big and strong. He was a shadow, a giant. No one would ever hurt me. I could hide on my father's lap or behind his legs as much as I needed. Even though I was normally with my mother because of how much my father worked, he was still the protector. My father still towers, though he has lost bulk and reminds me more and more of my grandfather. Lean and tall and quiet. My father still has his beard, and he is still going very slowly bald, but his hands are dodgy. He looks a little breakable and shaky. Not so much like a giant anymore.

We would find all sorts of things, my father and I. Sometimes we would wander together but mostly apart. After a while we would show our treasures to each other, and he would pretend to be excited about yet another unicorn or comic book and I would pretend to be excited about yet another screwdriver or package of fine grit sandpaper. Occasionally, we would find treasures that we both actually liked. Hence my obsession with kitchen equipment. Bowls, appliances, sets of glassware. My father and I had eyes for these things. We would buy them and carry them home triumphant only to be disheartened by the look on my mother's face when she realized that there was yet more clutter about to be piled around her. Tables, chairs, pots, pans, plates, little decorative trinkets that I would dust because my mother was always too hurried and made me nervous that she would break them, books. Books, books, books. My father and I could cover a world with all the books we bought. And my little boxes.

I didn't find anything at the Peddler's Mall. I saw a sea of lampshades and furniture that bespoke of being made of real wood rather than fiberboard. I saw a porcelain unicorn that I'm pretty sure was part of my collection when I was younger. (I used to name them and play make believe with them. I had enough unicorns to have a massive family tree assembled of first wives and second wives and the veritable unicorn patriarch who was lord over all of them.) I didn't find anything I wanted. I had gone in with the hope of locating more bowls for my current mixer or perhaps even finding an actual Hobart made KitchenAid standmixer. No luck.

It was still nice.

Lampshade Seas

I didn't get everything that I wanted to accomplished today, but I made a dent. I got to the post to mail the 2008 amended Kentucky state taxes, and I returned some online purchases to Old Navy. In the between time, I wandered around various stores aimlessly, which means I didn't get to the tax office in Clarksville or get Ophelia's oil changed. I still have tomorrow and Saturday, though I sort of need to get some sort of money back before going to the tax office because I need to pay up for the 2008 amended Indiana state taxes. Hopefully my federal tax return will come in shortly. The oil change can be done tomorrow.

Later tonight, when most of the dithering idiots on the roads have gone home, I will go to the store. I need groceries and supplies. I am going to be making a King Cake, after all.

Part of my meanderings today took me to a Peddler's Mall aka one huge yard sale under a roof. My dad and I used to frequent those sorts of things all the time. My mom never really had the patience for them, even when she and Dad were married. The Peddler's Malls, thrift shops, Goodwills', yard sales: these were the places my dad and I went. On Sundays after breakfast, crepes as often as possible because my dad makes the best and I would clamor for them, we would climb into whichever of my father's cars he had at that point and start the trek. My dad and I are alike in a lot of ways. We are both the pack rat sort as well as the slow wandering sort. I can wander through a store for hours, picking my way here and there. I don't just go in for certain things; I go seeking sales. My mother likes to get in and out of places. She makes me nervous that way. On my days off, I like to hit up stores and just wander. I look for things on sale, mostly. Things I'm not sure I even need, but things I might need to pick up just because what if I need them later. My father and I are alike in that way. We build stores of things for later or now or never. And we love sales. My father will buy something on sale that he does not need because it's a good price. I'll do the same thing, although my purchases are not the same as his. He buys car parts, tools, solar panels and various kitchen equipment. I buy various kitchen equipment, CDs, DVDs, random electronics, books, boxes. I love boxes. I love things you can hide other things in.

I'm rambling.

This does all tie into today, though. I stopped at a Peddler's Mall and just meandered through it, looking for things. I love Peddler's Malls. There are hidden treasures everywhere. When I was younger, I would search for porcelain unicorns, plastic unicorns (tastefully done) and plaster unicorns. I collected them. They were a treat. I would usually find a few and bring my treasures to my dad. My father has never been able to say no to me. If he takes me shopping, he buys me what I want. I think it's because it's easier for him than words. As such I have no problem equating gifts to affection. It's one of the many reasons I buy things for friends. I'm not a physical affection person. I can be, but it's learned behavior. In general, I am much more comfortable buying someone I care for something than hugging them when they're sad. Anyway, I would wander for hours searching booths for unicorns and then ferrying them to my father who would buy me this and that and then point out where the comics were and wait longer for me. He always carries cash, my father. A roll of cash the like of which I always avoid because I was always told it's dangerous for anyone, especially a girl, to carry that quantity of cash. My father does just that, though. In my mind, no one would ever mess with my father. Not that he's violent or mean or apt to hurt anyone. It's because he towers. When I was a child, he towered. He was tall and big and strong. He was a shadow, a giant. No one would ever hurt me. I could hide on my father's lap or behind his legs as much as I needed. Even though I was normally with my mother because of how much my father worked, he was still the protector. My father still towers, though he has lost bulk and reminds me more and more of my grandfather. Lean and tall and quiet. My father still has his beard, and he is still going very slowly bald, but his hands are dodgy. He looks a little breakable and shaky. Not so much like a giant anymore.

We would find all sorts of things, my father and I. Sometimes we would wander together but mostly apart. After a while we would show our treasures to each other, and he would pretend to be excited about yet another unicorn or comic book and I would pretend to be excited about yet another screwdriver or package of fine grit sandpaper. Occasionally, we would find treasures that we both actually liked. Hence my obsession with kitchen equipment. Bowls, appliances, sets of glassware. My father and I had eyes for these things. We would buy them and carry them home triumphant only to be disheartened by the look on my mother's face when she realized that there was yet more clutter about to be piled around her. Tables, chairs, pots, pans, plates, little decorative trinkets that I would dust because my mother was always too hurried and made me nervous that she would break them, books. Books, books, books. My father and I could cover a world with all the books we bought. And my little boxes.

I didn't find anything at the Peddler's Mall. I saw a sea of lampshades and furniture that bespoke of being made of real wood rather than fiberboard. I saw a porcelain unicorn that I'm pretty sure was part of my collection when I was younger. (I used to name them and play make believe with them. I had enough unicorns to have a massive family tree assembled of first wives and second wives and the veritable unicorn patriarch who was lord over all of them.) I didn't find anything I wanted. I had gone in with the hope of locating more bowls for my current mixer or perhaps even finding an actual Hobart made KitchenAid standmixer. No luck.

It was still nice.