Actually, that could even be a plot bunny - combining Nunsense the Musical (which as some of you know, has been horribly sequel-ized to death) and Supernatural. Lucifer has escaped again. Can Sister Mary Hubert and her novices defeat the hounds of hell before Dean and Sam get fully undressed??? Stay tuned.
And its rainy and cloudy so wish me luck to stamp out another part of my Crossover crack opus. It's so hard to start - to actually sit down and begin to move the boys around the board.
Oh, and also, planning a wedding may just kill me. And Hutch. And everyone else caught in the undertow of the BRIDAL INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX - think Elton John will come sing at my wedding???
Happy Monday . . . and yes, Hutch, I am finishing the laundry. Swear.
P.S. Back to Catherine Zeta Jones Douglas - Carys and Dylan? Carys and Dylan? Could you have chosen any more cliched Welsh names?? Where's your Angharad? What about Ystan? Or even Myfanwy which may be cliche but only in Wales. Okay, that's all.
that we selected as our wedding day the exact day Castiel pulled Dean outta hell?
Is there a symmetry? A certain I don't know what . . . (I refuse to write that in French since now I know what it means it ticks me off)
I am not at home. Hutch is tapping her fingers. Patience is at an end. Will head straight from the road to the doghouse, I fear.
But, in true Starsky style, I will have to bring some fabulous item that will blow the winds of irritation right out the window.
Any suggestions? (At present, I am going to be five days late! - it's gotta be good!)
I love that Prince song. The Joffrey Ballet did a whole Prince performance called Billboards a few years ago. The dance to this song was one of the most amazing things I saw on stage EVER.
That being said, snow in April as a reality, especially after a 65 and sunny day yesterday? Not so amazing. Except it hasn't stopped snowing today and Hutch decided we would clean out closets and organize cupboards . . . which is actually a perfect task for this cold and snowy day - did I mention it's APRIL. LATE APRIL? The new leaves on the trees are sad and bowing closer and closer to my window. I'm sure the tulips are shivering. Thank goodness the lilacs haven't even started budding . . .
Here's the view today:
and the saddest leaves ever!
Oh, by the way, anyone watching the NEW DOCTOR WHO? We are loving him here.
. . . and I'm trying to write a new fic - not fan - and all I really wanna do is get Stephen Fry on the set of Supernatural for some mayhem.
. . . and I'm very proud of my Hutch for writing not one, but TWO SPN fics in the last week.
. . . and I'm waiting for her to write some S/H, because just because Dean and Sam are all shiny and new, there is still a loyalty issue.
. . . and our trip to the West got cancelled due to illness, not on our part, and due to scheduling cluster fuck, on my part, and Hutch has yet to bemoan the fact that I stole the ocean from her. So what I really wanna do is pop down to NYC this weekend to see "beverly leslie's" new show, something about "The Pink Carpet" . . .
. . . and we set the date and it looks like we may be honeymooning at ShareCon - is that wrong? Or perhaps totally right, since it twas the boys that brought us together . . .
and a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AUDREY AND MARION!! What a lovely thing - a spring birthday - go outside and celebrate!!!
The new Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings is AMAZING. Check out "Better Things" - makes me scowl and dance all at the same time.
If I were technically able, I'd link it here, but alas, only recently did I learn to copy and paste . . .
Also, run do not walk into the arms of three "kick ass" girl singers: Serena Ryder, Ali Harter, and Laura Marling.
All bluesy and folk and rock and well, you know I'm gonna say it: KICK ASS.
(yes I am channeling my inner 9th grader today - because, just like in 9th grade, I am in the homework WEEDS! Really? Can we learn lessons and then un learn them? Am I still procrastinating to the point of total obliviation way out here at forty something? Well, I guess consistency is sometimes comforting . . .)
AND YES HUTCH, I AM GETTING BACK TO MY PAPER!
Hope everyone has a safe and Starsky-esque holiday - you know, lots of carol singing, lots of odd sweater wearing, lots of cajoling the big blond elf into some semblance of Christmas cheer . . . who at first lectures on the crass commercialism of the season, and then unveils the IPhone that Starsky has always wanted forever and ever . . . oh wait, what was I talking about???
Euphoric Sentimentalism Indeed!!!
(the before pic)
But the day is gorgeous. Cold. Colorful.
I think I can get used to this insanely early holiday . . .
Now what do I do in November?
Parents visited. Went swimmingly. Lots of pipe organs and HIGH MASS. Hutch was on her best behavior. You know how good Hutch is with parents . . .
Sprained ankle. Carting the 55 lb suitcase of the mother who packed an entire bag of "canadian apples" in her case. (side note - why are there no Jonathan Apples in Quebec? They are the BEST)
Caught a cold/fever/chill/cough . . . blah. And there are essays and journals languishing on my dining table, begging to be graded and all I can do is lie on the couch and watch HBO movies.
Thanksgiving head count: 11
Chairs in the condo: 6
Hutch will not allow either stovetop stuffing OR green bean casserole.
(side note - she did buy me a single serving of stovetop - just add water)
Got a the yummiest of yummy surprises this evening - Hutch brought home a bag from LUSH. OH Laura, Laura. Laura - I get it now!
Am in love with the soap and the soap and the rubbing bar that turns into body butter . . . laws.
And now it's time for Supernatural. So it's all good.
I was under thirty when I ADORED the show.
Now I'm over thirty for the DVDs . . .
wonder if the angst will seem silly now I am SOOO OLD and MATURE???? I TOTALLY DOUBT IT. Man, did I ever love that Ellyn and Hope and MIchael and Elliot and the boss from hell, Miles . . . sigh. Hope I don't still have fashion from that era - oh who am I kidding? Of course I still have fashion from that era . . . and I use the term FASHION rather loosely . . .
Plus I wanna write a little something, but I have no motivation - anyone have an idea, scenario, plan, that they want to donate? Something odd they would never write??
Now I'm off to get freezer bags for the $50 of wild blueberries Hutch and I fetched in NOrthern Ontario last weekend (HI VERLAINE!)
Say what you will about Canada, the country is full of fine fruits . . .
In other news, being betrothed is good. Kinda like it's always Christmas Eve. State of Anticipation. But, like Kevin Costner, sometimes I don't think of it at all. I'm thinking fall, apple orchard, linen dresses . . . she's thinking in the living room, lots of cake, big honeymoon . . .
My neighborhood in L.A. was perfect. I lived a block from the Brady Bunch house. I could walk up to Jennifer's Coffee and Henry's Tacos and Aroma Cafe . . . walk, did I mention that? Walk? In L.A. But of course, I often drove. On the way to somewhere else. To sit in traffic. In a canyon. I saw Patrick Stewart once in traffic. We were going opposite directions through Coldwater Canyon - he had the sweetest Jaguar, which is why I even noticed him. And so then I thought I'd turn around and try to follow him . . . yeah, well, two hours later and far from my destination . . . a cautionary tale indeed.
The cable guy is here now. We are communicating in a French/English way that seems less than conducive for cable installation.
Wish me luck!
This has GOT to be because of Sam and Dean. Plus I think it also got mixed up with The Ox-Bow Incident I just read which has similar plot.
So the only problem I have with this whole SPN falling down the rabbit hole adventure is . . . I will stop watching if they KILL BOBBY. He is my favorite character and every time his name shows up in the credits, I say "They better not kill Bobby." So now Susan has taken to just turning around and looking at me the minute his name flashes on the screen. But I'm serious. The show is dead to me if they hurt one hair on his thinning hair head. BTW, I am developing a mean Dean imitation and use it to my full advantage. "Sammy! Go get me a beer! Sammy! Did you get my laundry done yet? You demon loving skank!" Susan just loves it . . .
But then I have to pause and admit to my other new found hella yeah! passion . . .
NCIS . . . oh lordy Mark Harmon again . . . oh dear Tony . . . oh my Jethro . . . oh dear says Susan . . . did I mention Mark Harmon???
So, it's a mad race to the fic line - will I write an angsty deep conversation in an old black car or will I write a slam against the elevator walls as soon as they hear the ding, you're in the Navy now, boy drabble???
Or I could just finish my S/H - H/W crossover sequel . . . damn to hell the fixed aspect of this time space continuum - I could use some missing minutes right about now . . . of course, I haven't even thought of a massive Dean/Capt Jack/Gibbs/Starsky/House throwdown showdown . . .
Does anyone have a virtual Xanax???