hullcloth.com - warped woofing

Warped Woofing loose threads, fabrications, purls of wisdom and other belabored puns baste on my adventures in real life
in loving, laughing memory of JRW `@-->---` feed me go home: hullcloth.com just who do i think i am: cut from hull cloth previous woofing: fellow babblers: Greetings from Evanston, Ill. Big Dump Truck Driver's Log Pet Rock Star Brian's Daily Rant Spam-O-Matic Curious Furious torasan04's Journal Answer Girl DC Metro Blog Map misc-ing links: hullcloth.com Top5 Pets The Accidental Guitarist Close But No Guitar Style Invitational Losers The Top Five List Ruminations bradsimanek.com	Thursday, January 29, 2004 Present Attribute recent blog silence to the fact that I knew it would elicit an e-mail from my mom. I was waiting for news of my dad's recent medical workup. Results are better than projected, albeit still incomplete. More later, I promise. Haven't been in a very blog-y place of late. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 5:24 PM Saturday, January 17, 2004 Peyton Misplaced How quickly comedy can turn to tragedy. The ComedySportz kiddie matinee audience filed out laughing and high-fiving the players lined up at the door. As the "front-of-the-house" person for that show I was stationed behind the ticket counter, smiling and thanking the people I had sold tickets to an hour earlier for coming and at the ready to sell them t-shirts should the mood strike them. After the last of the crowd had left and the players headed back into the theater I remained at my post, counting receipts. A mom and dad who had attended the show with their young son and daughter came back in with the daughter, whose 8th birthday it was (hey, it's important to know that stuff for shows.) I asked if they had forgotten something. "Yes. Our son." came the reply. They had lost track of him because he had apparently walked out ahead of the rest of the family, who were detained for a few extra moments while one of the players asked the birthday girl, who had been serenaded during the show, if she was enjoying her birthday. So they went back into the theater to look for their wayward son, Peyton. The 3 players and sound guy were all in there and as soon as it became clear that Peyton wasn't hiding out on the premises, the 4 CSz people immediately abandoned their plans of catching a movie before the next show and set out into the mall along with the family, all shouting "Peyton! Peyton!" They were joined in the search by another family that had attended the show and were lingering just outside the door when the drama occurred. I had to stay behind to field phone calls and guard the till but I did alert mall security and kept an eye out in case the lad, all of 5 or 6, found his way back the theater to look for his wayward family. The story has a happy ending. One of the searchers, soundboard guy Dan, took it in his head to look in the parking lot, where he found a crying Peyton. The shouts of "Peyton" were replaced by shouts of "We found him" to summon all parties back to the CSz lobby for a happy reunion. Mom and Dad had kept cool heads throughout the ordeal and were gracious in their thanks to all of us. Birthday Girl seemed nonplussed, but was probably glad when the attention shifted back to her as she was asked where she wanted to go for her birthday dinner. What with the post-show crowd and confusion compounded by the chit-chat with the birthday child, it's easy to see how young Peyton could head off to the car unaware that his family wasn't right on his heels. And it's a damn good thing the story didn't end in tragedy or on a milk carton. But I have siblings. I know that things tend to happen that shift focus away from the kid whose "special day" it is. And I know that they don't always involve malice (or jealousy) aforethought. It's simply subconscious sibling sabotage. Why am I so sure? Because no way did I break my ankle on purpose a week before my brother's wedding, resulting in my having to attend the ceremony in a wheelchair. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:30 PM Friday, January 16, 2004 Up, up and beret Extra-cold weather means saying heck with the hair, I'm wearing a hat. I have a black felt beret that keeps my ears warm and fits snugly enough to not blow off at the slightest provocation. But as I look at it I wonder: what is the purpose of the little nipple thing that sticks out of the center? I have a Masters in French but am pretty sure this never came up unless it was covered the day I was absent after indulging in some brown Brie. My personal theory? An airfoil for when you fling the beret in the air à la Mary Tyler Moore. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:12 PM Thursday, January 15, 2004 Clay achin' You know that bit where washing your car will make it rain? Well, dig this. It didn't snow today because I didn't wash my car. It really needed it: there was still road grime on it from the Christmas road trip, plus some splatters from my adventure on the ice the other day. Not just dirty icy snow splatters, either. You may recall that I had spread clay kitty litter, which made for some lovely beige spots across the rear window, trunk and roof. My intention was to stop at the drive-thru car wash at the Shell station near the office after work yesterday but a forecast of heavy snow for the morrow made me reconsider. Since I park outdoors I figured that clearing whatever accumulation from the car would take care of the worst of the splatters. And I'd just have to wash it again after driving around in slush. So I woke up this morning to... no snow and it was off to the car wash after work tonight. Mind you, it's bloody cold out and I didn't expect that it'd even be operational but it was. So I traded my snow-and-clay splatters for a covering of ice droplets as the high-power dryer thingy wasn't and didn't. Funny story about the anticipated snowfall: I overheard two people at the office discussing the possibility of the agency's getting a snow day. "I hope so," said one, "I hate having to drive in that stuff." An unremarkable remark, unless you happen to know, like I did, that the person in question works in the Polar Programs division. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 8:47 PM Tuesday, January 13, 2004 Third Floor: Ladies' Brain Farts It was early, ok? And I hadn't had coffee yet. Why else would I hit the wrong elevator button not once but twice this morning? My jab at the "3" landed low, resulting in my pushing "P2". But it was ok since I was the only passenger. No one would know! The doors weren't closing fast enough to suit me so I jabbed at the "Close Doors" button. I must have overcompensated for my previous bad aim because I went low and ended up hitting "P1". Sigh. Then to my chagrin the elevator stopped at P3, not because I sneezed and hit that floor too. Oh, no. There was another person there, waiting to get on. She boarded and looked right at the button panel to press her floor. Because she is a human being, she notices how many buttons are alreay lit up (to recap: at this point it is the 3 I have pushed and the one she did) and no doubt compares that number to the number of bodies in the car. I confess to ineptitude, buttonpushingwise. She reassures me that I am NOT a clod. The fact that I must endure each extra unscheduled stop until we reach my floor helped level my karma, I'm sure. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 8:46 PM Sunday, January 11, 2004 Go with the floe Thank you to the anonymous neighbor or passer-by who gave me a push in the right direction. See, there is some kind of groundwater leakage or seepage on the condo grounds that in the current cold snap makes for icy parking spots. I hadn't thought twice when I parked on an icy patch yesterday; two of the wheels were on dry ground and after all I learned to drive in Ohio during a blizzard. Boy, was I wrong. As I left for improv practice I spun my wheels. Rocking didn't help. After a time I remembered the bag of clay kitty litter languishing in the trunk for just such an emergency. Problem was that I had to tiptoe out on the ice floe to get at it. After spreading enough around all the tires I gave it one more go. I made a little more progress but not enough. A light tap on the passenger side window proved to come from the aforementioned kind soul who applied the extra little bit of oomph I needed and I came clear. No way to thank him except for to make eye contact, smile, and blow a kiss. His smiling reaction clearly spelled out receipt of thanks and delight with same. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:57 PM Tuesday, January 06, 2004 Heavy music After hauling a crate full of my old vinyl records from car to 3rd-floor walkup home unit place, I just want to say God bless whoever invented CDs. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 4:56 PM Thursday, January 01, 2004 Janus, Janus, Janus! Right, don't panic. I'm here. Combine holiday prep, holiday travel and a bout with the flu and there go a few weeks worth of blogging right out the window. There are some tales to relate, some having to do with relatives, but these will have to wait until my head -- not to mention my chest -- is clear. But I want to assure the two or three of you who might be checking in periodically that I haven't abandoned the loom. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:51 PM
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Warped Woofing

loose threads, fabrications, purls of wisdom and other belabored puns baste on my adventures in real life

in loving, laughing memory of
JRW @-->---

feed me

go home:
hullcloth.com

just who do i think i am:
cut from hull cloth

previous woofing:

fellow babblers:
Greetings from Evanston, Ill.
Big Dump Truck Driver's Log
Pet Rock Star
Brian's Daily Rant
Spam-O-Matic
Curious Furious
torasan04's Journal
Answer Girl
DC Metro Blog Map

misc-ing links:
hullcloth.com
Top5 Pets
The Accidental Guitarist
Close But No Guitar
Style Invitational Losers
The Top Five List
Ruminations
bradsimanek.com

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Present

Attribute recent blog silence to the fact that I knew it would elicit an e-mail from my mom. I was waiting for news of my dad's recent medical workup. Results are better than projected, albeit still incomplete.

More later, I promise. Haven't been in a very blog-y place of late.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 5:24 PM

Saturday, January 17, 2004

Peyton Misplaced

How quickly comedy can turn to tragedy. The ComedySportz kiddie matinee audience filed out laughing and high-fiving the players lined up at the door. As the "front-of-the-house" person for that show I was stationed behind the ticket counter, smiling and thanking the people I had sold tickets to an hour earlier for coming and at the ready to sell them t-shirts should the mood strike them.

After the last of the crowd had left and the players headed back into the theater I remained at my post, counting receipts. A mom and dad who had attended the show with their young son and daughter came back in with the daughter, whose 8th birthday it was (hey, it's important to know that stuff for shows.) I asked if they had forgotten something. "Yes. Our son." came the reply. They had lost track of him because he had apparently walked out ahead of the rest of the family, who were detained for a few extra moments while one of the players asked the birthday girl, who had been serenaded during the show, if she was enjoying her birthday. So they went back into the theater to look for their wayward son, Peyton. The 3 players and sound guy were all in there and as soon as it became clear that Peyton wasn't hiding out on the premises, the 4 CSz people immediately abandoned their plans of catching a movie before the next show and set out into the mall along with the family, all shouting "Peyton! Peyton!" They were joined in the search by another family that had attended the show and were lingering just outside the door when the drama occurred. I had to stay behind to field phone calls and guard the till but I did alert mall security and kept an eye out in case the lad, all of 5 or 6, found his way back the theater to look for his wayward family.

The story has a happy ending. One of the searchers, soundboard guy Dan, took it in his head to look in the parking lot, where he found a crying Peyton. The shouts of "Peyton" were replaced by shouts of "We found him" to summon all parties back to the CSz lobby for a happy reunion. Mom and Dad had kept cool heads throughout the ordeal and were gracious in their thanks to all of us. Birthday Girl seemed nonplussed, but was probably glad when the attention shifted back to her as she was asked where she wanted to go for her birthday dinner.

What with the post-show crowd and confusion compounded by the chit-chat with the birthday child, it's easy to see how young Peyton could head off to the car unaware that his family wasn't right on his heels. And it's a damn good thing the story didn't end in tragedy or on a milk carton. But I have siblings. I know that things tend to happen that shift focus away from the kid whose "special day" it is. And I know that they don't always involve malice (or jealousy) aforethought. It's simply subconscious sibling sabotage. Why am I so sure? Because no way did I break my ankle on purpose a week before my brother's wedding, resulting in my having to attend the ceremony in a wheelchair.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:30 PM

Friday, January 16, 2004

Up, up and beret

Extra-cold weather means saying heck with the hair, I'm wearing a hat. I have a black felt beret that keeps my ears warm and fits snugly enough to not blow off at the slightest provocation. But as I look at it I wonder: what is the purpose of the little nipple thing that sticks out of the center? I have a Masters in French but am pretty sure this never came up unless it was covered the day I was absent after indulging in some brown Brie.

My personal theory? An airfoil for when you fling the beret in the air à la Mary Tyler Moore.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:12 PM

Thursday, January 15, 2004

Clay achin'

You know that bit where washing your car will make it rain? Well, dig this. It didn't snow today because I didn't wash my car. It really needed it: there was still road grime on it from the Christmas road trip, plus some splatters from my adventure on the ice the other day. Not just dirty icy snow splatters, either. You may recall that I had spread clay kitty litter, which made for some lovely beige spots across the rear window, trunk and roof. My intention was to stop at the drive-thru car wash at the Shell station near the office after work yesterday but a forecast of heavy snow for the morrow made me reconsider. Since I park outdoors I figured that clearing whatever accumulation from the car would take care of the worst of the splatters. And I'd just have to wash it again after driving around in slush. So I woke up this morning to... no snow and it was off to the car wash after work tonight. Mind you, it's bloody cold out and I didn't expect that it'd even be operational but it was. So I traded my snow-and-clay splatters for a covering of ice droplets as the high-power dryer thingy wasn't and didn't.

Funny story about the anticipated snowfall: I overheard two people at the office discussing the possibility of the agency's getting a snow day. "I hope so," said one, "I *hate* having to drive in that stuff." An unremarkable remark, unless you happen to know, like I did, that the person in question works in the Polar Programs division.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 8:47 PM

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

Third Floor: Ladies' Brain Farts

It was early, ok? And I hadn't had coffee yet. Why else would I hit the wrong elevator button not once but twice this morning? My jab at the "3" landed low, resulting in my pushing "P2". But it was ok since I was the only passenger. No one would know! The doors weren't closing fast enough to suit me so I jabbed at the "Close Doors" button. I must have overcompensated for my previous bad aim because I went low and ended up hitting "P1". Sigh. Then to my chagrin the elevator stopped at P3, not because I sneezed and hit that floor too. Oh, no. There was another person there, waiting to get on. She boarded and looked right at the button panel to press her floor. Because she is a human being, she notices how many buttons are alreay lit up (to recap: at this point it is the 3 I have pushed and the one she did) and no doubt compares that number to the number of bodies in the car. I confess to ineptitude, buttonpushingwise. She reassures me that I am NOT a clod. The fact that I must endure each extra unscheduled stop until we reach my floor helped level my karma, I'm sure.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 8:46 PM

Sunday, January 11, 2004

Go with the floe

Thank you to the anonymous neighbor or passer-by who gave me a push in the right direction. See, there is some kind of groundwater leakage or seepage on the condo grounds that in the current cold snap makes for icy parking spots. I hadn't thought twice when I parked on an icy patch yesterday; two of the wheels were on dry ground and after all I learned to drive in Ohio during a blizzard. Boy, was I wrong. As I left for improv practice I spun my wheels. Rocking didn't help. After a time I remembered the bag of clay kitty litter languishing in the trunk for just such an emergency. Problem was that I had to tiptoe out on the ice floe to get at it. After spreading enough around all the tires I gave it one more go. I made a little more progress but not enough. A light tap on the passenger side window proved to come from the aforementioned kind soul who applied the extra little bit of oomph I needed and I came clear. No way to thank him except for to make eye contact, smile, and blow a kiss. His smiling reaction clearly spelled out receipt of thanks and delight with same.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:57 PM

Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Heavy music

After hauling a crate full of my old vinyl records from car to 3rd-floor walkup home unit place, I just want to say God bless whoever invented CDs.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 4:56 PM

Thursday, January 01, 2004

Janus, Janus, Janus!

Right, don't panic. I'm here. Combine holiday prep, holiday travel and a bout with the flu and there go a few weeks worth of blogging right out the window. There are some tales to relate, some having to do with relatives, but these will have to wait until my head -- not to mention my chest -- is clear. But I want to assure the two or three of you who might be checking in periodically that I haven't abandoned the loom.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:51 PM

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