the sloppy copy

Dear Amanda,
Hey! How’s it going? Oh – sorry. This letter sort of came out of nowhere, didn’t it? I know, it’s trite – and I’d be really lying to you if I said this time was the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. I offer you the most sincere of apologies, as I do worry about how these sorts of things will be received, you know? I think about it a lot.

I also – and here’s why I’m writing you – think about you. Not necessarily “a lot,” but from time to time you pop into my head. Not sure why; I don’t think we’ve met. But, like I said (wrote? haha!) before, I do this thing a lot – meaning, I write letters to folks I’ve never met, and never will meet.

Oh, man. Wait. What I’m trying to say is not that I wish I’d met you, or that reading about you made me all teary-eyed and hollow-feeling (though, really, all three of these statements are true). What I’m actually getting at here – and I’ll get there soon, promise! haha! – is that: man! What a gal you sure were!

And really, that’s it. I get a little tongue-tied (thumb-twisted?) with these sorts of letters. I mean, on one hand, I want to tell you how you’ve inspired me and how when thoughts of you surface in my brain that it makes me want to sort of, you know, live how I think you might have lived – or at least try! But on the other hand, I can’t help but feel like my words are a little… resonant? No. Not resonant. Echo-y. Like something that bounces around a big empty something.

Oh, I don’t know, Amanda. I’m really getting off track here, aren’t I? I really hope that you see that I mean well (oh! By no means am I implying that you wouldn’t have better things to do than to check in on what I’m doing from up there or over there or wherever you are now; no ma’am!) and that somewhere in between all these damn words you figure out what I’m really trying to say, because I sure as hell don’t, ha ha.

Butnoseriously, seriously: you’re inspirational. There. I said it. Inspirational! And I mean it, too. Man, I really like that word. Doesn’t it sort of starburst in your mouth when you say it? I think it’s the sp part that I like the best, don’t you? Or maybe you don’t care for the word. You’ve probably heard, read it many times before in your reference, eh? And can you blame them? Okay, okay. Enough. I’m really getting off topic now.

No! I got it! This is what I’m getting at! This is what I mean:

Thank you.

A lot. Like, a lot-a lot.

Gosh: you were something!

Thank you.

Yours truly,
Julie

According to my brother, this song reminds him of me; this is okay with me.
“Marrakesh Express” / Crosby Stills and Nash (1969)

I went through a few duets of this song, and settled on this version because – c’mon – who doesn’t love Zooey Deschanel?
“Baby it’s cold outside” / Zooey Deschanel & Leon Redbone

So: looks like my Song of the Day has of late become a Song of the Whenever I Damn Well Feel Like Posting One. Though I doubt this upsets anybody, I’d like to throw out a general apology.



And also-though no one has demanded an ‘splanation, I offer one here:



My brother was in town for Thanksgiving, arriving early Wednesday morning and flying out Saturday night, and the interim was filled with a whole lot of ridiculousness (most of which cannot be accurately recounted, as it is of the Inside Joke variety).



Brother is the variety of person of which I wish I knew more; I’m also quite thankful that there’s only one of him in the world. If I had to name my Top 3 Interesting People I Know, he’d be included in that grouping. He is one of the few people who consistently “get” my lame sense of humor and he is the person with whom I share no less than 45,000 inside jokes – many of which are not, actually, funny.



A friend refers to her late father as her soulmate. When I think of my brother, I understand what she means. Somewhere along the line, someone attached romantic or sexual connotations to that term but I think that’s probably inaccurate. To me, a soulmate is kind of undefinable – when a person is your soulmate you just, I don’t know… you just know.
I don’t think that a soulmate has to be a romantic partner, and I don’t think that each person in the universe is cosmically paired with one other human being. I think there are some people out there lucky enough to have multiple soulmates. And yes, I think there are even folks who are able to marry or otherwise commit themselves singularly to their soulmate, but that a husband or wife (or whatever term you like to use) doesn’t necessarily have to be one’s soulmate.
Me – I’m related to mine, so he’s stuck with me whether he likes it or not.



Let me think about today’s SOTD and get back to ya…

“I sure wish I could remember when we put them in.”
(“them” = the turkey breasts)

“How long they been in there?”
“I don’t know, awhile?”

“I bet Michelle Obama isn’t having this much trouble!”

“Are these the kinds of thermometers you leave in the turkey? Or were we supposed to take them out?”
“They’re the kind you leave in… I think?”

“This one’s off the charts, but I don’t think it’s done.”
(“this one” = the meat thermometer)

“This says it’s 185 degrees, but I think it’s only been in here a half hour.”

“I don’t think it’s brown. Do you think it’s brown?”

Dad: “I’m not eating any vegetables.”
Mom: “I’m making them for Julie, she doesn’t like mashed potatoes.”
Julie: “I love mashed potatoes!”

I used to be adamantly against remakes, until I realized that some of the songs I enjoyed were remakes of earlier, less popular recordings.
To atone for the dearth of s(s)otd the past few days, I give you two:
“Faith” / George Michael (1987)
and
“Faith” / Limp Bizkit (1997)

For the record, I prefer the George Michael version, though Fred Durst’s ain’t bad.

Things I Can Do Well:
* Spell
* Correctly use multisyllabic words, apostrophes and adjectives on a semi-regular basis
* Diagram sentence structure (why is this not taught in schools anymore? I spent three years of my formal education learning how to do this!)
* Omit Oxford commas in my written work
* Write (as a manual skill; my handwriting is [almost] consistently legible)
* Provide witty and/or scathing, sarcastic commentary on world events, public figures, family and friends and general goings-on around me
* Recognize Craigslist overposts and spam and flag them accordingly

Things I Can Do Passably Well:
* Crochet
* Cook (also: prepare quick and filling meals with almost no cooking at all)
* Write (as an academic skill)
* Style others’ hair (female)

Things I Have Not Yet Mastered But At Which I Am Consistently Trying:
* Baking
* Photography
* Following through on my Big Ideas
* Giving oral presentations
* Speaking loudly
* Using my cellular telephone for social calls
* My current job



Alright, who wants to offer me a job?

I have no idea what today’s sotd is, so I’ll open up my trusty iTunes…
(opens up iTunes)
…click Music…
(clicks Music)
…and click Play (my iTunes is rarely off “Random”)…
(clicks Play)
Voila!
“The Stars of Track and Field” / Belle and Sebastian (1996)
Yay for Scots, again…
Also, yay for interesting songwriting using the the phrases “your terry underwear” rhyming with “feel the city air”