Random Shmandom

Okay, a few things........

I saw a good movie. It's called "Sunshine Cleaners." Go see it. Kind of in the same vein as Little Miss Sunshine but a bit more believable (no one would ever really get up and dance with that little girl at the end...in fact, that whole final scene was pretty far fetched). There is a scene in Sunshine Cleaners - and this will not spoil it for you - when the main character girl (Amy Adams) goes to a baby shower. She is the feels-like-a-loser/outcast/working-as-a-house-cleaner going to the I-married-a-rich-guy, goodhair/nicemakeup, shiny SUV, diamond ring gal's house. She gets there and realizes who she is. I, and other girls like me, all realize that we're HER, the quirky, heart-of-gold (hahahaha), am-I-ever-going-to-get-it-right, girl. Now, my question is, do the women who see this movie that actually have the fine house with the maid, and the clean floors and the lack of serious paper piles all over the kitchen table (and any other empty space) recognize themselves? Or does everyone, even the perfect hair ladies, think they are the quirky main character? I'm just curious.

Also, there was a weird, depressing, yet horribly late-night-TV-joke-inducing moment at Starbucks yesterday. (Have you noticed I'm using too many - connectors?) So, a woman came through the drive-through. She had a cat in her car. I'm right there at the register, another barista was barring for me. As she starts to get her money out, she rolls her cat's tail up in the back window. The cat, who was up near the headrest of the driver's seat, goes APE SHIT. Starts attacking this poor woman. The cat's screeching. The woman's screaming. The cat's biting and clawing. The tail's caught. We are standing in the window totally unable to help or do ANYTHING. The cat finally gets it's tail out of the window...I swear two inches of tail was left in the drive through lane...and the woman was bleeding and crying and trying (still) to get money out of her purse. We got her a wet clean towel, gave her the drink and said "do not pay for this." We asked her if she could drive and was okay, to which she could hardly reply, and then she drove off. We were both so traumatized neither of us could function for half an hour. And it's one of those things that just replays itself in my head. And my fellow barista did say "there's a reason people crate their cats when they take them in a car." And it wasn't probably a mean cat, I'm sure the woman in the car LOVES that cat. But it freaking attacked her.

B and I went to NCECA, which is a the National Council On Education for the Ceramic Arts. It was in Phoenix this year. It was very cool. There were wonderful pots and bowls and huge clay painted heads two feet tall. There was some amazing art, and some I didn't quite understand and some I thought. "well shoot, I can do that." Here's a picture of a bunch of ceramic slices of birthday cake. The artist said that she had trouble keeping up with friends while concurrently working in her studio, and so she thought that by doing these cakes, she could do both. So, at the gallery where her work was shown, she was wrapping pieces of pottery cake, boxing it up and sending it her friends. She would put, "do not open until _______" and then have their birthday. It was kind of cool. There was a sign that said that you could be her friend for 60 dollars, and she would send you a piece too.

And finally, no one is blogging anymore. There used to be 10 blogs a day that I would read. People were writing at least 3 times a week if not daily. Now, some of these people are writing once every two months. Come on, people! Write those blogs!! I personally think that everyone is addicted to facebook now and the most anyone can write at a time is a line or two about what they're doing AT THAT EXACT MOMENT. "Chris is drinking apple juice" or "Mary is going to sleep" or even "Chuck is tired of this wind blowing." Or, they're too busy taking a quiz to find out what famous fairy tale character they are, or what their hippie name is. If you do not do facebook, this is what goes on there. STAY AWAY. You too will become addicted to having 618 friends and never actually corresponding with them. Okay, done. I have a few quizzes to take, and for your information my hippie name is Gypsy Willow Dusk.