Oy. I feel like I got about 15 minutes of sleep last night. I went to bed late to begin with, but at about 3:30am our dog decided there was some life-shattering peril in the backyard and it was her duty to bark her head off till the whole neighborhood was alerted. She has a massive, roaring bark on her (which she rarely employs, thankfully), so I'm sure there were several disgruntled folks cursing her from their beds. Bill finally got up and locked her in our room, where she punctuated the balance of the morning with intermittent growls and pacing.

She's been hellaciously skittish lately, and we're not sure why. I was taking her for a walk last evening, and we had just crested the hill at the top of our street when she all of a sudden stopped dead in her tracks and began tugging her leash back toward home. I thought maybe she'd seen a cat, even though she's usually oblivious to any other animals when we're walking. There was a guy working on his truck engine by the curb ahead of us, but he wasn't doing anything threatening and usually she wouldn't care less. She did run up to him like she knew him when I tried to walk her past him, which is also unusual, but then she commenced with the backtracking effort. I finally gave up and turned back - and she galloped, choking herself on her lead, until we made it home. As soon as we got in the door, she was fine, but reluctant to go back out. I finally convinced her to restart the walk going in the opposite direction, but I had to cajole her. This, from a dog who's generally so anxious to get out on walks that I can't even look at my walking shoes without her getting uppity and whining to go, and once we're out is so wrapped up in an orgy of sniffing that nothing fazes her. She's generally a well-adjusted, non-jumpy sort of pup; all of a sudden, though, she's like the kid in "Sixth Sense" - like she's seeing dead people everywhere or something. It's somewhat unsettling. Maybe we need to get her some doggy Valium...

Speaking of unsettling, we watched "Mulholland Drive" last night. What a bizarre movie. I can't decide if I liked it or not. I don't mind a movie that makes you think, but I'm not sure how I feel about a movie that deludes you into trying to make connections that don't really exist. My own dreams are nonsensical enough without my spending two hours trying to interpret the premeditated chaos of a David Lynch character's dreams. It was intriguing, but in the end I was burned out on trying to pull together all the strange threads and weave them into some sort of coherent conclusion. Maybe I'm just too conventional, too focused on the destination instead of the journey... it's just that a small sense of payoff for having taken the long, strange trip would have been nice. I imagine, though, that this sense of uncertainty was exactly what Lynch intended to inspire. So... whatever.

Last night Bill and I drove past one of the many new McMansion developments cropping up like a rash on the hillsides of Rancho Peñasquitos and were commenting on their oppressive homogeneity - row upon row of boring, identical pastel stucco boxes with postage-stamp sized backyards, set so close to each other that one could borrow a cup of sugar from one's neighbor by opening a window and having it handed over to you. We've taken to calling them "hive homes", and as we drove by these ones we speculated about the terms and conditions set by their homeowner's association.

"I'll bet there's something in there that says you're required to take turns fanning the hive opening."

"Yeah... And one a week you're required to put on your pollen chaps and go run through the flowerbeds."

"Whenever someone hears about a good sale at one of the local stores, they have to come back and do a special dance in the courtyard to let the other residents know where it is."

(Insert image of Tess doing a little jig reminiscent of the gopher dancing at the end of "Caddyshack"). "Ah - the double back-and-forth fist-jutting indicates Mira Mesa Road... The shoulder shimmy means discount clothing... And three head bobs means 30 - there must be a 30% off sale at Ross! Let's buzz on over!"

Heh.

We apparently have a homeowner's association in our neighborhood - but thankfully, unlike most of the developments built over the past 10 years or so, there doesn't seen to be an active committee for it and we don't have to pay any HOA fees. Some people I know who live in newer developments are on the hook for several hundred dollars each month, which I would have an enormous philosophical problem with having to pay. Ostensibly the HOA is there for the betterment of the neighborhood, paying for upkeep and communal services like swimming pools and landscaping. Nuts, I say. I would have no interest in those services, and it would be a huge annoyance to me if I had no option but to pay that much money every month to fund them anyway. HOA's are notorious for telling you what you must do and what you are forbidden to do with the exterior of your home and yard, in the supposed interest of maintaining a tidy, property-value-enhancing uniformity of appearance among the houses. Want a basketball hoop in your front yard? Sorry, it's not allowed. Want to paint your house blue? No can do; it won't match the other houses then (God forbid). I have a really hard time wrapping my brain around the concept that someone else can tell you what you can or cannot do with your own private property - but that's the deal I guess you make when you buy a home in those neighborhoods. The fact that our neighborhood had no HOA fees (nor the dreaded "Mello-Roos" tax, the non-payment of which can result in foreclosure on your home) was a major selling point for us.

Still, despite the absence of any overt enforcement body that we could discern, we did read the neighborhood association-type terms and conditions documents we were given when we moved in, just to make sure we knew the scoop. The most amusing one to us was that we were specifically forbidden from keeping bees on the property. Nossir, no bees. Keep any other insect or animal you like - hell, any other constituent of Phyllum Arthropoda, really, knock yourself out - just no bees. We wondered, however, what our liability would be if bees just happened to take a yen to our property and began building a hive - squatting, in a sense? Would we have to take steps to evict them? Perhaps serve them with tiny eviction notices, nailed to the outside of the hive? Or, what if we decided to keep, as a personal pet, a singular bee? The T&C's really only prohibited bees in the plural...

Anyway, I am continually counting the lucky stars that were swirling over our heads in the finding of this house in this location. The neighboring houses are, albeit similar in appearance, set more widely apart than newer developments and we live on the side of a hill, which sets our house on a different level than the ones on either side and thus provides more privacy. We have no one behind us - our backyard overlooks a shallow canyon through which a major neighborhood street was built. While there is some traffic noise, our back deck is a good 15-20 feet above the road and the hill is covered with eucalyptus trees and other vegetation, so there's some buffer between us and the road. It's a small price to pay for the breathing room and the pretty overall view. Best of all, we don't have to pay some stupid association thousands of dollars a year for the privelege of owning property here. And we're never asked to help fan the hive opening. Although I kind of do wish I had a pair of pollen chaps...

I love the referrer log for monkeygumbo - it's very entertaining to see some of the Web searches that lead people to our site. Current favorites:

#1) 'fuck ass wife bitch turkish' - what can I possibly say about this one? What was this person hoping to find? A support group for fellow husbands of fuck ass Turkish bitches, perhaps?
2) carageenan dangers - beware the carageenan! It's an industry plot!
3) emaciated women pics - Why? What is it about a skin-covered skeleton that could be remotely appealing? Bah... Go find a famine relief site if you want to see that shiznit.
4) jennifer connelly weight loss - *shrug*
5) e-stimulate pics - Sure, I guess my goal is to offer e-stimulation to my select group of readers - but not so much pictorially;
6) excellent dentist new york - outta luck; the one I know is in Scottsdale, AZ.

In other news, things are looking up for Bill's dad. Apparently he has pneumonia (dunno why it took them so long to figure that out...), so that's the malady that's apparently made his general health turn south. He's improved quite a bit and may even get out of the hospital this afternoon (we're crossing fingers that he does - Bill is anxious to get back to work, and he's wearing thin under the caretaker routine, poor fella...) Anyway, it's a big relief that his dad's on the mend!

OK, y'all, I’m requesting that you send out some good thoughts for Bill's dad Larry - he's been in the hospital since Friday afternoon with heart problems. Bill went up to Phoenix on Saturday to see his dad and then to help cover his brother's care while his folks are out (his brother Mickey has cerebral palsy, for any who don't know. Mickey is also building a remarkable new career as a minister-at-large, offering up heaping plates of salvation to the likes of convicts and homeless people, but that's another entry…). Anyway, we don't know what their dad's prognosis is yet - lots of tests are being done. He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure two years ago, but had been doing extraordinarily well until this happened. We're all crossing our fingers that this cause of this sudden setback is going to be something treatable/managable and that he'll be home and back on the road to health very soon!

Ironically, the night before we'd watched the very sad episode of "ER" where Dr. Greene spent his last days with his children before passing away, and then had a discussion about our own fear and sadness about our parents' eventual passing - only to have those fears shoved in our faces the very next day. Bill lost his half-sister Bunny a few years ago and we've both had other relations to whom we were not very close pass on, but besides Bunny neither of us has lost someone from our immediate family. We know those days are coming, though - albeit hopefully not for a while to come - and it's frightening to consider. Dying is something we all have to face, but surprisingly little in our life helps us prepare for it, either for ourselves or for those we love. We hesitate to talk to our loved ones about their wills and their memorial preferences because it seems "morbid" and we don't want to think about it; but I think that both the acknowledgment and discussion of mortality is important and helpful in the long run. I hate thinking about it, I hate that it will happen to anyone I love, let alone to me... but I want to be able to accept it and deal with it in the best way possible when the time comes, and I want to know what those I love want me to do when it's their turn to go. Even if it means finding a source who can/will, um, preserve remains in clear lucite, which is what Bill has indicated he wants for himself... (and yes, he actually means it - I'm sure he'd be glad to share his rationale if you asked him). For the record, I want cremation and scattering in a park or forest, and "Moonlight Sonata" played at my memorial. Also, both Bill and I want a big, raging party held in our honor once everyone's up for it - with optional bagpipes (Wee) or fireworks (me). Just FYI.

OK, enough of my Grim Reapering. Sorry for laying another morbid entry on ya - but there it is. I'll try to keep the focus more lite-n-lively from now on!

Anyway, alone for the weekend, I kept busy by rearranging my office. I finally painted the last wall that needed doing, and I swapped the location of the desk and couch, ridding myself of the desk's oppressive overhead cabinet in the process. The fact that I managed to do all this heaving of heavy furniture on my own without causing myself grave injury is something about which I'm both proud and more than a little surprised. I like the layout about a hundred times better than before - the chi is flowing much better, as my Feng Shui-conscious friends might say - and the sleeper bed still folds out OK, so it's all good. I also gave the hot tub a good spring cleaning on Saturday, and baked oatmeal cookies to share with my coworkers - the chicas are always bringing in goodies, so it was my turn to reciprocate. I kid sometimes that Bill needs to leave town more often so that I can get things done… but all told, I'd still rather have him around. And not only because he's much better at lifting heavy items. =)

So what's all this about? Well, Wee and I came up with the bright idea of posting a weblog (it's 'blog! It's 'blog! It's better than bad - it's good!) so that we can throw random crap up on the Web for our own amusement and the reading enjoyment of... well, almost no one. Given my own nearly pathological inability to write email to people on a regular basis, however, I'm hoping that my friends (of whom I assume you're one, since I don't exactly anticipate this site being hyped on Yahoo! Cool Site of the Day anytime soon...) might be up for coming here and get little doses of TessNews instead. Acceptable compromise, or lame impersonal copout? You be the judge.

At any rate, this is just my first test-run here, so I'm going to keep it short and see if this monkey works...

Today was one of those days that makes people really resent you when you tell them you live in San Diego. Amazing, Praise-Jaysus-and-pass-the-barbeque weather. (Damn, you may be thinking, only two entries in and she's already resorting to commentaries on the weather. This is going to be one kicker of a journal. Well, just remember, your money is 100% refundable if you aren't completely satisfied).

Bill and I spent the morning coming up with this little weblog dealie (yes, we were not only conscious but also productive for several hours this morning - shocking, I know). In the afternoon we washed our autos. In the case of my Escort, I almost wish I'd left it dirty - asthetically speaking, I may have been better off. As it was, washing off the uniform surface layer of soot only served to reveal just how many of the smudges were not, in fact, transitory grime but rather permanent features of the surface finish. Also, alarming chunks of rubber bits always come off when I scrub, and I worry about what will happen once some critical percentage are shed. My car is aging way too prematurely - I fear that it's become afflicted with some sort of automotive version of progeria.

Poor thing. I never have bonded to it the way I bonded to my beloved Skate. (For that matter, I've never even nicknamed it, which is a very rare exception among items that are part of my daily life for more than a few months.) I'm certain it knows I want to trade it in for a Honda CR-V. It's heard me talking about them (did you know the CR-V has real-time 4-wheel drive? And a fold-out picnic table in back?), it's felt the longing looks I give their sporty little packages when we pass them in the street. It can put two and two together. I feel guilty that I may be giving the poor thing bad self-esteem, maybe even depression. I can only hope it's not feeling suicidal - or at least that it doesn't decide to take me along with it if it is. "If I can't be your ride, no car will!" I'm getting a funky vibe from it, one that didn't go away with last month's tune-up. But hopefully having given it a nice bath will have shown it that I still care...

Oops, way past bedtime. Sweet dreams.

I hab a code. A nasty, creeping crud of a virus that has plagued me since Tuesday. It seemed to be transient at first and I'd hoped to be better by the weekend, but by last night things were taking a downhill turn from the encouraging upswing of Thursday, and I've spent all of today malaising on the couch watching movies instead of my original plan of doing housework. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe that's not such a bad thing...

I watched a couple of films that I'd never heard of but which turned out not to be so bad: "Two Ninas", a romantic comedy that mostly caught my eye because it starred Ron Livingston of "Office Space" and "Band of Brothers" fame - he's currently one of my favorite actors; and "Sweet Revenge", a dark British comedy starring another couple of actors I'm fond of, Sam Neill and Kristen Scott Thomas. Also re-watched most of "Jane Eyre" - a great, aptly-casted adaptation of the book - and the well-made sub flick "Crimson Tide".

Last night, Bill & I and our friends Tony and Kris went to see "Spiderman". I went in with cautious enthusiasm, but came out very impressed. Sam Raimi did an excellent job with this one. It had a hefty portion of gee-whiz special effects, but I didn't think the action bits were at all gratuitous or over-the-top... it's Spiderman, for Pete's sake - the more web-swinging action the better! The CGI was some of the most convincing I've ever seen - sure, if you looked for it you could tell which scenes were digital; but not once was I distracted because the imagery seemed blatantly fake. It was very smooth, realistic and served the pace of action well. Equally well-done, though, was the Peter Parker side of the story. Casting Tobey Maguire as the geekboy-turned-Webbed-Wonder was a coup; he was totally convincing as the sweet gawky guy turned accidental superhero (and did an admirable job of hard-bodying up for the role - discretion demands that I refrain from further comment about how he looked in that Spidey-costume... ;-) Although speaking of which, I did feel a disconnect there - whence the origin of that slick Spandex wondersuit? Presumably Parker bought himself a Singer and whipped it out - after all, commissioning it from someone else would have compromised his true identity - but that's some slick tailoring for an 18-year old boy... *shrug* But I digress.) I think Sam Raimi was wise to emphasize the character development of the man behind the mask; in doing so he avoided the pitfall of producing an empty popcorn action flick. Moreover, while the supporting characters are, in keeping with the story's comic book origins, cut from simplistic patterns - the bully, the dreamgirl, the supportive but concerned family members - Parker's interaction with them is realistically complex and evokes empathy in the audience without being excessively cloying or trite, and that's no small task. Again, I think good casting helped, especially that of Maguire. His screen presence is an apt, intriguing blend of sensitivity, wry self-effacement and quiet inscrutibility - a winning formula for a misfit protagonist with whom anyone who's ever felt like an outsider can relate. This same persona is what made his performance in "Cider House Rules" so compelling, and it definitely does the trick for this role. I also thought Willem Dafoe did an outstanding job as the Green Goblin - he filled the role with just the right amount of leering, over-the-top malevolence. His strange Jay-Leno-chinned mask could have been better rendered, but that's a small quibble. J.K. Simmons, who plays Jameson, absolutely nails the egocentric, eccentric editor role, too - his performance was a gem. Kirsten Dunst did well and had great chemistry with Maguire - I'm sure at this moment there are legions of teenage boys with her image burned on their hormone-marinated synapses like the menu text on an old VAX monitor that's never turned off.

Anyway, of all the "Man" movies I've seen to date (Super, Bat, etc.), this one was by far the best - and I suspect it may take up permanent residency on my all-time favorite list once I have a chance to see it a couple more times and see if my initial impression holds up. I'm sure we'll not only end up going to the theater to see it again but that it'll eventually see heavy rotation in our DVD collection.

Now, if only the upcoming "Attack of the Clones" leaves me feeling this enthused, I'll be one happy chica. Although right now, happiness could also be defined as the renewed ability to breathe through my nose...