Hello World!

Guess what, folks. I am now an official youtube superstar!

Goodies

I am the proud owner of a new, super-charged computer. Yeehaw!

I also have a new refinishing project fresh from the thrift store! I will post some before and after pictures later.

I have hot apple cider fresh from Golden Harvest Farms, and I also bought some cider doughnuts today.

Life doesn't get much better than this.

The Joys of Modern Technology

Sorry for the dearth of posts, but I have been curtailed at the prospect of youtube video stardom. Hun offered to download some nonlinear editing freeware off the internet. As a result, he also downloaded some kind of virus. I am fortunate to have such a great husband who is willing to waste hours of valuable study time so I can have my artistic dream. Unfortunately, the virus is quite, well, virulent and we can't seem to shake it off Hun's computer.

My campaign for a new computer continues, but it has been dampened a bit. Hun and I got trapped when his truck got towed by one the more virulent parasites haunting Albany. We parked in the McDonald's lot off of Pearl Street to go to dinner across the street. A tow company in town hire scouts to post at various locations to wait for people to park there, and then get their car towed a few minutes later. The scout gets a kickback from the tow and storage fees. We were in the restaurant for a half hour. I so fucking love this town.

That, combined with a speeding ticket I received about a month ago, and us registering our driving license to NY State, it set us back a pretty penny, and Christmas is around the corner. Therefore, we will be adults and delay some gratification for a couple of months.

Once Hun's computer is back on line, I will abscond with it when the weather turns crummy and I'm stuck at home working through a Nor'Easter.

More postings later . . .

Betty

Call me bored

I just started another blog, titled "What is the nature of true love?"

I've pondered this question for some time, and even made a mini-documentary about it. I won't publish it on youtube any time soon, since . . . well . . . some of my friends might not appreciate it.

However, have a gander, and please contribute!

I even have a poll.

you can check it out at www.whatisthenatureoftruelove.blogspot.com

I hope the blog name is long enough . . .

Betty

Happy Hallow-versary

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday. I could skip some of the more daggy holidays, like
Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day and celebrate Halloween a couple more times a year.

Hun and I started dating around Valentine's Day. We were at a party at a mutual friend's, and the party headed to the Mercury Cafe in LoDo to see a band perform. I was working it pretty hard to get Hun to moderately acknowledge my existence, as another guy--not nearly as cute and mysterious as Hun--kept on dropping liberal hints that he dug me. I was trying as hard as possible to avoid the not-as-cute guy for complex political reasons, hoping his attempts at flirtation were just in my head and halfway succeeding at my self-delusion.

At the end of the evening, Hun asked me if I had any plans for Valentine's Day. I told him I had none and went on a tirade about the suckiness of V-Day and the corporate exploitation of the masses. I told Hun I much rather celebrate Halloween. So much for putting the nail in that coffin--pun intended.

My friend who hosted the party then extorted me into hitting on Hun the next day (V-Day), saying he seemed to like me. I said I didn't think so, and he was too young for me anyway--like three years younger than me. She kept on picking at me to do something, for Christ's sake, for the rest of single humanity that didn't have an opportunity. I harumphed and acquiesced to her demands--but on my terms. I sent Hun a Halloween e-card, with two gross-out eyes rolling around a monster's hand, singing I Only Have Eyes for You.

Most guys would have freaked out about some strange chick sending a creepy card and petition for a restraining order. Hun didn't. He laughed, called me up, and asked me to watch Halloween with him for our date. I brought over a pizza and the movie and we sat and talked through the entire John Carpenter masterpiece.

When Hun and I were talking about getting hitched, our original plan was to get married today instead of July. (It's a good thing we changed our mind, since we got a nice vacation out of the deal and got to see friends and family with us instead of standing in front of a judge. It's also a good thing because I have some anal-Exorcist thing going on today.)

We celebrated our 1-year dating anniversary by going to the Stanley Hotel of Shining fame as well. We got the most out of our stay, Hun being the industrious sort he is. We ran around the hotel after dinner that night, taking pictures of anything looking remotely spooky. Hun got a shot of some guy in a white baseball cap with mojo camera equipment without a flash. It looked quite ghostly and he was prodigiously proud. We encountered a gaggle of young women who were also running around with their own cameras, freaking each other out as well. Hun was hungry to show his "ghost" photo to see how they would react. Another guy was nearby, attempting to attract some kind of positive attention from them. He was saying he was a ghost hunter--the ladies were not impressed, and were pleading for Hun to save the day.

"Don't show the picture," I whispered. "They'll flip a gasket."

He didn't, and the girls and the ghost hunter went their merry way.

The next morning, we went on a ghost tour the Stanley offered. We thought it would be free as a guest. We guessed wrong. It was a good tour, talking about all the history of the place, and the tour guide even mentioned that the Ghost Hunters from the TV show were running around with mojo camera equipment, tracking down the supernatural bumps and creaks. Hun and I looked at each other, thinking about that damn "ghost" picture of the guy with the mojo camera and the baseball cap and the "ghost hunter" hitting on the ladies the night before. They were the Ghost Hunters. We brushed against minor celebrity and didn't even shudder at the sudden chill in the air.

Hun also saw the opportunity for hauntingly glowing irony. "Don't show the picture," I warned him again. "Don't do it!" That image of the cameraman walking down the staircase in blurry and spectral spookiness was burning a hole in his camera. He had to show someone. I hid behind a plant while he was showing his handiwork to the tour guide.

Needless to say, the tour guide was impressed and we didn't pay a dime.

Local Hauntings

Those who know me well know how much I dearly love the fall and Halloween. Last weekend, I went to a roadside cemetery near my home. I see these small cemeteries frequently on my travels through Upstate New York--on the way to work, apple picking, and Sam's Club.

It isn't kept up well. (The latest resident died in the 1980s.) All the same, the noble dilapidation of the thick grass and overgrown vines ads a sense of peace, as if the cemetery is being reclaimed by nature.

Some people do care for those buried here, even if they died over 100 years ago. I saw a few small flags adorning the graves of Civil War veterans and a few silk flowers near some of the newer graves. While walking through the stones, I didn't really considered death as much as the lives of the residents laying underneath. Who did they love? What were their passions? Who morned their passing?

I returned to our abode and looked up the cemetery online. I searched for about an hour, but came back with no mention. I'm sure there is information out there, but I wasn't searching in the right place.

Perhaps it's for the best. The place itself seems to enjoy its anonymity--remaining undisturbed for squirrels to secret their winter storage, vines to twine and leaves to fall to the ground.

Midnight Confessions

I can't believe I spent all day reading fan fiction.

I just finished An Assembly Such as This, the first in a--believe it or not--trilogy based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Talk about a marketing strategy.

All the while, I have Moby Dick, Katherine Graham's A Personal History, and A Passage to India gathering dust on my bookshelf. They sit patiently, waiting for me to crack open their pages. Some books on hold creased pages that mark their abandonment--my eyes never gracing their end matter.

I also have a collection of dogeared romance novels and sci fi next to my bed and Martha Stewart's Living magazines stashed in the bathroom.

You won't tell anyone . . . will you?