Dear Orange:

Love,

Library Lady

Whales

I have trouble conceptualizing the size of a blue whale. I always have. I blame it on the fact they are so reclusive. You don't see a lot of blue whales in Telus commercials or modeling for Old Navy like you do your cheetah and your pot bellied pig. They're loners, those blue whales. They float around in parts of oceans I don't get to very often and do their "maaaaaoooooooooooohhhhhheeeeehhhnnnn" thing, eating their krill. I don't suppose I'll be seeing a blue whale anytime soon.

I get it, they're big. They're the biggest. But... What does that mean exactly? And please don't tell me I ought to "google" the answer. I've done this. And a picture comparing the size of a blue whale to a Tyrannosaurus Rex is not helpful because I won't be seeing one of those anytime soon either. They are elusive to me, and I appreciate that about them... Like they're not all "look at me, I'm a blue whale, I'm the biggest." They just are. And that makes them way cooler. Not like those show-off dolphins.

In my esteemed opinion...

... There is very little that Bill Murray can't do. Have you seen What About Bob? The Man Who Knew Too Little? Fantastic Mr. Fox? Ghost Busters? The Life Aquatic for crying out loud?

"Son of a b*tch, I'm sick of these dolphins."

Amazeballs.

He's totally bizarre in all of these films which is perhaps why I love him because secretly I know I"m bizarre, too. For example, sometimes in an effort to zone out I watch movie trailers on my iPad (if you don't have the IMDB app, get it). Weird, I know. There are a myriad of other things I could be doing with my time, like shopping for curtains or painting the back room or baking something nice for someone nice. Instead I watch movie trailers. And this little ditty co-staring Bill (amongst many other hilaripuss actors) immediately caught my eye:



Oh, I will be seeing this. Yes sir. Perhaps more than once.

Like mother like son.

At least I have an excuse... I worked that day! I hardly call militantly eyeballing the bird feeder and negotiating one's girth back and forth between the couch and food bowl a tiring series of events.

Oh, but I lurve him and all his pear-shaped chub.

I really, really, really hate the expression "friendly reminder" or even worse "gentle reminder".

Michael Lewis, I can't quit you!

I'm trying to listen to a "smart person's" book on CD during my commute to work instead of my regularly scheduled program of morning radio and traffic reports. But my facade is crumbling... I'm not a smart person, nor do I play one on TV, and my attention span for this particular subject matter (sub prime bonds and real estate derivative markets) is waning. The first CD is 50 minutes long and I have rewound it three times today alone.

What can I say? Economics are not my forte. But I am determined... Now if only I could convince BG to commute with me and explain what I don't understand (the majority) and pat me on the back when I do (not much).

p.s. I have changed something on the blog ever so slight but ever, ever, ever so important... Can you guess?!

Feed

I read a book for a Masters class called Feed by M.T. Anderson--an ironic satire set in a future world where a media feed is inserted directly into people's brains when they are babies. The result is a chilling consumer society where empty-headed teenagers are obsessively driven by fashion, shopping, the pursuit of entertainment, and by constant self-destructive customized murmurs in their brains of encouragement to buy, buy, buy...

Heavy, yeah? But so good. So, so good.

I remember the class discussion: those who argued the premise was too far fetched and completely science fiction, and on the flip, those who knew felt were weren't far off. I was with side B: we would eventually succumb to a world where we are joined literally and figuratively to our technology. And this was before every hand held a Blackberry, every smartphone was a charge card, and every person (and their dog) had a Facebook account.

For the record, you will never receive a poke from Bert nor I.

Today's Twitter feed (hmm... just noticing the irony there...) brought this little gem to my attention:

Google Owns Your Soul

*shivers*

This is f*cky. And so... I don't know... Wrong? Am I alone here?

S'rsly. Marshall McLuhan, if you could see us now.

Many things with no things in common

Sometimes I secretly worry I'm an elderly person in a 30-something body. I eat a lot of soup, for example, and am somewhat obsessive about my bran intake. I like to watch Antiques Roadshow (as I type it's on the TV in front of me, and two individuals in motorized wheelchairs are arguing over the age of a walnut pie safe..) And I spend a lot of time in my own head debating where exactly in my garden I should place my garden gnome (as it stands he's in a lilly patch but I'm not yet satisfied he's positioned for maximum exposure. He'll no doubt migrate to the daisies before week's end...)

Last night Bert made his way into the bedroom in the wee hours of the early morn to throw up a ribbon. He has a tendency to do this, particularly when he's been into my wrapping supplies or if he's spent a considerable amount of time in the back room with the plants. He can be clear on the other side of the house and he'll seek me out to make it known he's throwing up. On one hand, ew. On the other, I'm kind of flattered he feels the need to share this with me...? Afterall, when I'm sick I want my mommy, too...

This weekend we met a new addition to the family, and what a pumpkin she was. But perhaps my favorite part of meeting her was Lil' C's reaction: at one point we were sitting on the floor of the overstuffed living room, me with 7-month old baby Hannah in my lap, when he came real close and quietly sang the alphabet, followed by Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He then proceeded around the room (in his cords and button down plaid shirt), introducing himself to those he didn't know ("So what is your name? My name is [Lil' C]" and when appropriate, slipping in his legendary knock-knock joke:

Lil C': Knock knock...
Unsuspecting victim: Who's there?
LC: Orange...
UV: Orange who?
LC: Orange banana!

[diabolical LC laughter]

For those of you concerned I have just sucked some of the joy out of a little boy's life by giving away the punch line of his favorite joke, have no fear. He will unabashedly share this gem with you over and over and over again, consecutively, every minute on the minute, regardless of how many times you've heard it. I am confident my leak won't affect his presentation.

p.s. What is it about oranges and bananas that little people find so funny? I'm more of a kumquat girl, myself.