how i got through the day

by remembering that no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse

have i ever mentioned that i'm a hussy?

so a few days ago, i decided i would write a post dedicated to the eastern european maintenance man. i was going to tell him that he's fairly good-looking for an eastern european. he's probably in his mid-to-late-40s, but has a very nice smile. he's quiet and humble, and always so appreciative if ever anyone does anything for him (including helping him find the english word for something - his struggle with english is endearing). i didn't get around to it, but i had every intention of doing so.

but then, today, out of nowhere, in walked good-looking maintenance guy. and he was beautiful. and i found myself saying dorky things, and laughing at myself when no one was looking, and having to be called back from day-dreaming when washing my hands. he's beautiful.

and then easten european maintenance man walked in and gave me a big smile. and i felt guilty. but oh well. not guilty enough to stop swooning over good-looking maintenance guy.

Aww, Yee-ah!

That's our boy!

i suppose if i want new comments i have to post something new, huh?

Lament for Gondor

i don't write poetry, but for some reason i did the other day. it's lotr-y, though, so i posted it on councilofelrond.com. yes, i'm a dork, but i'm fairly proud of it (both the poem and my dorkiness i guess). if you care, here it is:
http://councilofelrond.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=Clubs&file=index&action=ViewPost&pid=6412

dear cousins subs,

meatball sub, only cheese, does not mean w/o meatballs.
sincerely,
melilot brandybuck

my sad story involving blueberryness

my father bought a chocolate chocolate chip muffin for my mother. she told me i could have it. normally i try not to eat them, cuz while they're tres yummy, i also know they're tres bad for me. however, once in awhile a girl has to splurge. so i ate half yesterday (cuz it's huge), with the intention of eating the other half today.
so today i came home from work, all excited for my muffin. i took one bite, and thought, 'this tastes kind of funny.' so i took a second bite trying to figure out if there actually was something wrong with it or what. and then i knew. when my dad came home from work yesterday, he brought two doughnuts with him, and then just stuck them in the bag with the muffin. fine, right? wrong. one of the doughnuts is blueberry. and so, my yummy chocolate chocolate chip muffin was contaminated, absorbing the taste of blueberryness. it was ruined. so now it's up to my parents if they want to finish it or if it should just be tossed, for there is no way i will eat it now.

I want to go Home

Into The West, by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore, and Annie Lennox

Lay down,
Your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling.
You have come to journey’s end.
Sleep now,
And dream of the ones who came before.
They are calling,
From across a distant shore.
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see.
All of your fears will pass away.

Safe in my arms,
You’re only sleeping.

What can you see,
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
A pale moon rises.
The ships have come, to carry you home.
And all will turn,
To silver glass.
A light on the water.
All souls pass.

Hope fades,
Into the world of night.
Through shadows falling,
Out of memory and time.
Don’t say,
We have come now to the end.
White shores are calling.
You and I will meet again.

And you’ll be here in my arms,
Just sleeping.

What can you see,
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
A pale moon rises.
The ships have come, to carry you home.
And all will turn,
To silver glass.
A light on the water.
Grey ships pass
Into the West.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgcoBKWTW14

quote of the weekend

"Every fireplace should have a picture of Rhett hanging above it." - Hobbitsister

(ooh, and bonus quote: "Now that is the epitome of dreamy." - Chelleybutton)

ah AH ah ah, ah AH ah ah, ah AH ah ah ah, ah AH ah ah

my nieces saw 'gone with the wind' for the first time this weekend. hobbitsister and i have been waiting to let them see it for the first time since the days they were born, i think. this year is the 70th anniversary, and we figured that by now they'd be old enough to appreciate it. and we were almost right. they're old enough to sit through it without too much grumbling (though erma did her share of texting). hey, we'll take what we can get.

we are the bravest sisters ever

hobbitsister and i just crab-walked down the stairs (and holy hannah was it scary)

i'm not sure, but it may just boil down to this

(the second half)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DeDPySP4nIw&feature=related

thanks, jose

"ms. mauer, you gittin' a cold?"
"no. why?"
"you don' look good."

dear twins,

chase utley looks like a twin.

that's all.

love, mel

Movie Review: Fever Pitch

Oh my. Maybe this is why I'm still single.

Lindsey and Ben meet in October. He's perfectly wonderful. She falls head over heels. Her friends try to tell her that something's wrong with him, after all, how has he not been snatched up yet? But after 5 months, he still seems great. Then March hits. And he has a confession to make. He's a Red Sox fan. A big Red Sox fan. Like crazy insane Red Sox fan.

And so begins the love triangle.

Sadly, I could relate. He bought her a Red Sox jacket for when they went to games together. I bought Chelleybutton a Twins shirt. He taped a game when they went out to eat and made her cover his ears when someone talked about the score. I taped a game when I had to work and made my father promise not to cheer or anything when I came home half way through the game. She wanted him to go to her friend's birthday party. When the Sox were playing the Yankees. What?! My friend wanted to go out for lunch. When the Twins were in a pennant race and were playing Detroit. What?!

Yeah, oops.

I liked it. And really wish my nieces could see it. But sadly, they have to throw unnecessary things in there, so at least the younger one shouldn't. I hate that almost all movies do that nowadays. That was the one disappointing thing.

So overall, I recommend it. Provided you're older than jr. high.

what's wrong?

i don't know. but people have been asking me that a lot lately. one of the housekeepers at work asked me if i was ok cuz she said i haven't been smiling much lately. food holds no appeal for me, unless it's a bagel with peanut butter or dried apples. i'm not sleeping well at all. after having done well for a little while, i now again have no interest in reading the Bible. i don't necessarily feel like anything's wrong, but with things like that, i can't help but wonder if something is.

the professor

i just found a toast i made on councilofelrond.com (cuz that's what these people do) in 2007 to tolkien on his birthday:

"The Professor! May I follow your example by demonstrating my faith in all I do, using the gifts God has given me, and finding my purpose according to the desires and joys God has placed in my heart."

i don't think i've lived up to that. :(

I love Sam

"A dead end," muttered Sam; "and after all my climb! This can't be the top of the tower. But what can I do now?"

He ran back to the lower storey and tried the door. It would not move. He ran up again, and sweat began to trickle down his face. He felt that even minutes were precious, but one by one they escaped; and he could do nothing. He cared no longer for [the orcs] Shagrat or Snaga, or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand.

At last, weary and feeling defeated, he sat on a step below the level of the passage-floor and bowed his head into his hands. It was quiet, horribly quiet. The torch, that was already burning low when he arrived, sputtered and went out; and he felt the darkness cover him like a tide. And then softly, to his own surprise, there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief, moved by what thought in his heart he could not tell, Sam began to sing.

His voice sounded thin and quavering in the cold dark tower: the voice of a forlorn and weary hobbit that no listening orc could possibly mistake for the clear song of an Elven-lord. He murmured old childish tunes out of the Shire, and snatches of Mr. Bilbo's rhymes that came into his mind like fleeting glimpses of the country of his home. And then suddenly new strength rose in him, and his voice rang out while words of his own came unbidden to fit the simple tune.

- The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien