struggle for the words then give up
Feb. 16th, 2006 02:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aruanAfter not seeing where I live for 12 years, you'd think my father would've had more questions or observations about my apartment. Poke through my kitchen cabinets, look at my DVDs, ask what's in my closets, open my refrigerator. He didn't even see my bathroom. Instead, he liked my TV and asked how much I paid for it, then made a series of suggestions about wouldn't I like some paintings on my walls, replacing my office chair, having my bedroom furniture refinished and criticing the lack of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky in my life without even looking at what else is on my bookshelf. But then, he did only now notice the three additional piercings in my ears, which I've had since 10th grade, I believe. My hair has rarely been not-tucked behind my ears or longer than chin-length in that time.
I really don't get to be surprised anymore.
He did look over the paperwork from the newspaper on my dining room table and asked for copies of the New York Times code of ethics. And he bought me only the second gift of his I've ever liked - a Murano vase. They'd spent their day at EPCOT, and my share of that pull was a lot of baklava and this gorgeous little orange/yellow/blue unfurling bloom of Italian art deco:
And! In lieu of a bouquet, as I told him a long time ago that cut flowers are strictly wasted on me, my father gave me a darling moon cactus for Valentine's Day. He's a prickly, somewhat stocky little thing, with a bright orange bulb shaped like a fractal for a head. Besides squealing inside and all but hugging him to my bosom, guess what I named him? ;)
He's now in my kitchen window getting a few hours a day's exposure to indirect sunlight. If I could buy him clothes, I would. I blame the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, which, not the thing to be watching when I'm so on the brink of getting one. Apartment living is not for dogs! I'm not home during their peak hours!
I'd be enjoying the pretty mountains of Torino (high definition is dreamy) a lot more if it didn't mean I don't get Conan. He's in Finland! Meeting his political female doppelganger! Benevolent rulers of the world, please let there be at least a few good sketches, if not all-out on-location broadcasting, from across the pond next week.
Also, this past couple of days have been insane with ideas I'll never write. John and Rondey having to solve a mystery alone together (too much X-Files, and good god but Small Potatoes was a fantastic hour of television), death situations in which John says things to Rodney he never would but now does without reserve, kind of selfishly so as he's watching rodney bleed quite too badly to believe he'd make it, post-Allies fic, etc. I read something the other day in which Rodney was forced to have to integrate the Wraith technology with the Lantean schematics for the hyperdrive, and it involved feeding on him, then Ronon, etc. God, Allies really is a black hole, isn't it? Not the way most of you have said, but more on that later.
I really don't get to be surprised anymore.
He did look over the paperwork from the newspaper on my dining room table and asked for copies of the New York Times code of ethics. And he bought me only the second gift of his I've ever liked - a Murano vase. They'd spent their day at EPCOT, and my share of that pull was a lot of baklava and this gorgeous little orange/yellow/blue unfurling bloom of Italian art deco:
And! In lieu of a bouquet, as I told him a long time ago that cut flowers are strictly wasted on me, my father gave me a darling moon cactus for Valentine's Day. He's a prickly, somewhat stocky little thing, with a bright orange bulb shaped like a fractal for a head. Besides squealing inside and all but hugging him to my bosom, guess what I named him? ;)
He's now in my kitchen window getting a few hours a day's exposure to indirect sunlight. If I could buy him clothes, I would. I blame the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, which, not the thing to be watching when I'm so on the brink of getting one. Apartment living is not for dogs! I'm not home during their peak hours!
I'd be enjoying the pretty mountains of Torino (high definition is dreamy) a lot more if it didn't mean I don't get Conan. He's in Finland! Meeting his political female doppelganger! Benevolent rulers of the world, please let there be at least a few good sketches, if not all-out on-location broadcasting, from across the pond next week.
Also, this past couple of days have been insane with ideas I'll never write. John and Rondey having to solve a mystery alone together (too much X-Files, and good god but Small Potatoes was a fantastic hour of television), death situations in which John says things to Rodney he never would but now does without reserve, kind of selfishly so as he's watching rodney bleed quite too badly to believe he'd make it, post-Allies fic, etc. I read something the other day in which Rodney was forced to have to integrate the Wraith technology with the Lantean schematics for the hyperdrive, and it involved feeding on him, then Ronon, etc. God, Allies really is a black hole, isn't it? Not the way most of you have said, but more on that later.
