Friday, October 30, 2009

Ghost of Halloween past

Someone over at 20-something bloggers started a thread asking people what their best Halloween costume has been. Three years after coming up with it, I'm still pretty proud of mine, despite the fact that it required explanation everywhere I went in it. The photo's not great, but basically I'm wearing an EVENING gown made of NEWSpaper.

I'm the evening news!

This year, Sparta came up with the equally clever idea of wearing revealing clothes and a pig nose to go as the Swine Floozy. However, I'm pretty certain that karma would ensure I was immediately stricken with the virus upon putting on that outfit. Plus, it's probably not appropriate for shelling out candy to children.

So now it's a toss-up between Medusa and Rosie the Riveter.

We'll see how many snakes I can get at the dollar store.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

If living is without you

I don't often find myself using the phrase "I can't live without...". I guess it's because I can't help but think of it a little too literally and so it always seems insincere.

I mean, really, short of food, water and certain major organs, I'm hard-pressed to think of anything that would actually cause me to become instantly deceased were it to be taken away from me (with the exception of maybe having all of my family and friends removed from the planet while I was forced to stay behind -that might kill me).

I most often hear the phrase from other people if I happen to mention that I'm a vegetarian or that I don't have cable. Then it's all feigned (or real?) horror and "Oh I couldn't LIVE without ground beef/Real Housewives of Whatsit).

You could. I promise.

So, with the understanding that I'm not always so dramatic, here is a list of mostly materialistic things I "couldn't live" without:

- My white noise machine. I am a freak about noise. If somewhere in the same building as me, a TV is on, or a tap is dripping, or a mouse is whispering a bedtime story, I will hear it, and be unable to sleep. My mom bought me this white noise thing when I was living in a seriously horrible dorm in Toronto one summer. While nothing short of pumping sedatives through the water supply there would have made the place quiet, at least my noise machine blocked out the worst of it.

-Good books. I can't count the number of hours I've spent since I was little, snuggling up to and subsequently losing myself in a good book.

-Access to the internet. One of the things that made the last year and a half of living alone in a new place without much going on for entertainment or socializing bearable has been the internet. It's hard to feel disconnected with so much at your fingertips.

-Chocolate. Too easy?

-Indoor plumbing. Well, I mean, really.

-Laughter. If I'm not laughing, I'm probably dead. Or asleep.

-anti-perspirant. Sparta insists that I use too much of the stuff, but he never had to endure the embarrassment of being a 14-year-old girl with hyperhidrosis. "Why yes I am sweating through my shirt in the middle of winter, thank you for noticing, sensitive and mature teenage boy. I trust you won't mock me in front of all of our peers." Wrong.

-Cheese. Not a day goes by when I don't have at least one little slice of some kind of cheese. I could live on cheese, wine, chocolate and fruit. No problem (aside from maybe an iron deficiency).

-My debit card. If I ever lost that thing, I'd be screwed, I never carry cash with me anymore.

-Physical contact with other people (preferably ones I know). I'm definitely a snuggler (unlike some people), and I firmly believe that touch is like sunlight. We need it to keep from turning into shriveled-hearted little teeth-gnashing monsters. A regularly snuggled Sarah is a calmer, happier Sarah. Consequently, if you ever find yourself on the same couch as me, I apologize in advance for tucking my feet under your thighs or butt to keep warm.

This post is a part of 20SB’s Blog Carnival: Can’t Live Without, and is awarding prizes to lucky bloggers and readers!

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Play's the Thing

The weather as of late being fairly miserable, I've been trying to come up with some things to keep Sparta and myself entertained through the winter months. While I've been having a grand old time beading necklaces and attempting to crochet hats, and he has fun playing guitar and torturing his bod in the makeshift gym he's set up in our entryway, it's harder to find activities beyond say, napping, that we both enjoy and can do together.

I'm at the point where I'm actually considering ordering (gasp) cable (or satellite, or robot moon rocket ship or however quality television programming is delivered to homes now) for the first time.

Once totally anti-boardgames, I am now an ardent supporter. We spent a hilarious Friday night this past weekend playing Hoopla.

Me: "Computer Internet weirdos!"

Sparta: "No." (gesturing wildly at his drawing).

Me: "Computer....Internet weirdos?"

Sparta: NO! You're just making the same guess over and over with different inflections!

Me: (amid tears of laughter): Computer, Internet, WEIRDOS!!!"

OK, so the hilarity might not translate unless you've played the game, but I assure you, good times were had by all.

The only problem is we've been having a tough time finding games that are suitable for two. Clue? for example, not so mysterious. Well, it wasn't me, so I'm going to go ahead and

So my Internet advisers, I turn to you. Any suggestions for fabulous 2-player games to keep us from excessive napping this winter?

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Grey Matters

When I was 20, I discovered my first grey hair. I was totally fascinated, if a little freaked out, and insisted that my roommate at the time come and check it out.

She was horrified and promptly yanked the offending alien being from my scalp, squealing, "WHY do you have grey hair???" before I had a chance to decide what I thought about it.

Since then, slowly but surely, that first tinsely strand has been replaced by a steadily growing number of grey hairs.

My boss and I were chatting about hair the other day and I mentioned that I don't think I'll dye mine to hide the grey. She refused to believe me, telling me about a friend of hers who went grey early and looked terrible, and demanded that I send her a photo of myself at 40 to prove it.

While I guess I should never say never, after all, I did go through that month-long purple manic panic phase in high school, it's just not something I see myself doing. For one thing, just the thought of having to keep up with maintaining my rapunzel-gro mane over time exhausts me. I'd have visible roots every other day. As it is, I'm lucky if I manage to schedule a trim more than twice a year.

I'm not crazy about dumping a bunch of chemicals on my head (that's where my brain lives!) and into the water supply on a regular basis either. It's bad enough that I wear makeup with who knows what in it at least a couple of times a week. While my vanity and insecurity does win out more often than I'd like, for the most part I figure the fewer chemicals leeching into my skin, the better.

My mom started going grey at my age and to this day has never felt the need to try to somehow fight a futile battle with time. She looks natural, lovely, and comfortable in her own skin.

I think having an example of aging gracefully (mom, I don't mean to insinuate that you're vastly aged, I just mean aging in the sense that everyone is, from birth on), so close to home is probably one of the main reasons I'm not devastated at the thought of losing my current hair colour.

Most of all, I think for me, being expected to hide the grey hair healthily growing away on my scalp is just the straw that broke the camel's back.

I already spend god knows how much time, energy and money shaving, waxing, plucking, pinning, curling, straightening, most of which are not terribly fun activities, and some of which are downright painful.

I deeply resent being told, whether by advertising or the people who buy into it, that now there is one more thing I will inevitably have to add to that already ludicrous list if I don't want to be cast out of society as some kind of deeply unattractive leper.