thatnight.net

Today was not an especially memorable Halloween. It seems I’ve reached the age (uh, 5 years ago?) when not only is candy-begging deemed inappropriate, but my closest friends have jobs that keep them working late into the evening, leaving me bored and seemingly lame. And being that I have no children of my own to assemble, the majority of my day was spent in the celebration shadows of family and friends and the kids they keep around.

Although! I am attending a Halloween party this Saturday, and while that costume would have been too fancy for my two hours of throwing Reese’s out the door in ten-minute intervals, my sister? No costume either. Therefore, we did what’s standard when dealing with uncertain circumstances:

SILLY HATS!

You see how we’re looking off in opposite directions? Totally on purpose.

And speaking of throwing candy at children, a good 50% of my trickster treatsters were high school boys, who more often than not wore professional football jerseys with women’s wigs. And also? They always said “trick-or-treat,” “thank you,” and took only one mini box of Dots. I would’ve hugged them all if they weren’t so close in age and yet so under 18.

Full photo set here.

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For the past few months, I’ve been wrongly receiving e-mails meant for a different Rachel, who I assume has an address that’s almost identical to mine.

It began with a businesslike message from a man who excitedly wrote that he was happy to have me as a client. There was also something about a bed and breakfast. I guess I was going to be in town. At the time, I disregarded the mix up and wrote a short reply that I would go on to use liberally in the following months. Sorry, I think you have the wrong Rachel.

And then came more. I hardly ever received a reply, even though it was obvious that the many senders each had a unique relationship with me. They came from different parts of the country, and then, Europe.

I was asked if I thought Madrid was all it was cracked up to be by someone from Vermont. I was reminded to stop by Bordeaux on my way to Paris. I was told that my friend Carlow would be visiting with relatives until Wednesday, but would be back in time to see me this weekend.

It was around the end of September when I received the most of these messages, and at the time, I was in the process of bugging my friends for used bikes for use on the days when I didn’t have more than $2 for gas.

A couple weeks later, I received another e-mail. I assumed it was for me, being in my inbox and all.

“Rachel, I hope you enjoyed meeting with Sandra, Doug and I two Sundays ago.”

Where was I two Sundays ago?

“On the walk I suggested that if you wanted a bicycle then we had a spare one which you can borrow. If you would like the bicycle give me a call and you can come and collect etc. It is in full working order.”

Have I been asking everyone and their mother for a used bike? Did I seriously mention that I’m on a bike hunt to two people I hardly know ?

“Also I said I would inform you of the next walk – I still have to agree a date but I’ll let you know when it is to be.”

Was that charity walk two weeks ago? Did I stupidly agree to another one, and now I don’t know when it is? Or what it is?

I stared at my screen, searching my memory for a Doug or a Sandra and wondering what in my life has caused me to be such an absentminded jackass, if all that fast food really was that destructive.

I gave in and replied, apologizing for my being an idiot and asked them to remind me who they were. Story in short: They were from Stirling. In Scotland. I wouldn’t be getting a bike.

It makes me wonder if there’s another one of me running around somewhere, traveling like I wish I was. You know, to save me money. Another possibility? Me: From the future.

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Many thanks are due to Norm (thank you, thank you, thank you), who is responsible for this redesign, for the brand new header and for suggesting a different layout to switch things up. My mind is at ease for finally having something I like to look at, and for having a wider space for pictures, like these ones, which were taken yesterday afternoon during my first puppy visit. I still have about a month until he comes home.

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This is my sister, Molly. She’s 13.

Earlier this summer, before entering 8th grade, Molly found out that her best friend had a lump on her brain. A few weeks later, the lump was found to be cancerous. In these past five months, Molly has matured quicker and more completely than I thought possible in that amount of time. In five months, she went from a Hannah Montana lunatic to a picture of perseverance. Or maybe, now she’s just both.

Her best friend, Chelsea, is unyielding and beautiful. Her triumphs have made it easy to forget she’s barely a teenager. And, she’s a hockey fan. She loves the Penguins, people.

The girls found out a week ago that Sidney Crosby was offering his private box for last night’s game. They were whisked via limo (packed with Halloween gift bags and sparkling cider) to the arena where they were able to watch the game from, literally, the best seats in the house. I sent Molly out with my camera and she came back with some great stories.

As they were getting ready to leave, they were greeted by Mario Lemieux in the hallway.

And then, followed quickly by a mess of excited shrieks, Sidney appeared and hung out until it was time to go. He posed for pictures and presented Chelsea with the game puck. Molly’s attitude towards boys in general has remained indifferent throughout middle school, and so when she called me afterwards, it was the first time I’d heard her say, “Wow, this man is gorgeous,” and, “Hey, he’s your age...hint.”

I was told the night, from the beginning, kept getting better. I am so excited for them, and certain there was no one there that night more deserving.

The full picture set can be found here.

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After three years of patience, I’m still pursuing a suitor. This year, I’m a commoner. Again.

Within those past three years, I have:

Attended one school, for three days
Left the Catholic church
Played my lute
Broke my lute
Walked twelve miles to a joust with some crazy gypsies
Trained a lovely horse
Spent hours cross-stitching as is appropriate for my age

…and by and by.

I recently left my suffocatingly small cottage and ventured to the court located much closer to the Queen, the most divine being in all the land.

I love knights, the theater, and masquerades. I’m terribly uneducated, and incredibly modest.

I have a dream of owning three dresses before I’m 25. I make it a point to bathe monthly. I really like the ideas of science and innovation, although tend to be entirely too involved with my role as a woman.

I think my father proves that.

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So here’s how it works:

One of the very first blogs I ever started reading (years ago), and one of my favorite blogs to read, is vacant.cc, which is run by Leah in Austin, who is married to Taylor, who is the lead singer and songwriter of the band Quiet Company, which I began listening to under her (obvious) recommendation, which led to obsessive playing of So Gracefully and Then Came a Sudden Validation, which resulted in my eventual fan status.

So when I found out a month ago that Quiet Company was coming to Pittsburgh, there was a lot of excitement! And commotion! And an e-mail to Leah that probably came across a lot like: The band! Pittsburgh! PLACE, WHERE I AM!

Then I sort of lost track of it all until I looked at my planner last night and realized that the band was scheduled to play in 15 minutes. And then I rushed.

As it turned out, I was about an hour early, which ended up being great, because while Taylor and Tim (drummer) were picking up food from elsewhere, Tommy (guitar/keyboard) sat down next to me at the bar, and then I recognized him, and we talked until the rest of the band got back. Unfortunately, Leah wasn’t with them on this stretch of the tour but there was much talk of blogging.

I didn’t get a chance to say hi to Taylor and Tim until shortly before their set began, but soon afterwards, and for the rest of the time they were in Pittsburgh, I was completely taken with their kindness and modesty. When the music started, they sounded almost exactly as I expected them to (if not better), much bigger than the three of them, very intense, even to a small crowd.

Afterwards, they needed a place to stay. And I live in a place! And so they stayed.

And that was that, and fortunately Pittsburgh decided not to be rude this morning and we had sunny and cool weather, so we all went to Primanti Bros. and the boys put hot sauce on their sandwiches and all was well.

If you live anywhere near Dayton, OH, they’re playing there tonight and you should go. If you live elsewhere, check their schedule, and there’s a good chance they will be near. And if you’re still making excuses, they’re on iTunes.

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Pittsburgh is on Street View. I haven’t really dug through it yet, and so have yet to find individuals being hit by cars or pigeons being kicked by individuals, but they seem to have covered the city pretty thoroughly.

And hey! Here’s the Steel Phantom!

And my previous place of employment!

And the sanctuary!

Also, speaking of Pittsburgh, cable has been running Sonic commercials on local channels since I was in high school, which resulted in groups of teenagers gathering around TV’s and angrily shaking their fists in unison as they watched unreachable images of Cherry Limeades and encouraged car-based dining. Last week, a search for the nearest location yielded these results, with the closest location being 131.45 miles away:

They’ve finally opened one up, with 14 more to come. I’m overjoyed, and sure I’ll be sick of them in no time.

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As a quick follow up to my previous Saw IV post, Blogtober: Saw IV – Effective Horror Advertising, the wonderful people at Movie Snobs caught the TV spots and put them up on YouTube. Surprisingly, their version had three splits, resulting in four different Saw clips.

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I’ve been hoping to adopt a puppy for about a year now, and I’ve been looking around for the best options and waiting for the best time for me to bring one home. I’ve also needed the time to save money, in case you were misled into believing I’ve waited this long due to sheer responsibility, because puppies is ’spensive.

I decided I wanted a small breed, as I move around a lot in the spring, and the back and forth to the lacrosse field would make for an easier routine for the both of us. I’ve been taking trips to local shelters, but found it difficult to adopt puppies, or even very young dogs, especially in the breed I was looking for, a Yorkshire Terrier.

I also decided very early that I wanted a male dog, whose hair I will keep cut short, despite the recognized long-hair look of Yorkie show dogs.

The process began when I found a wonderful and somewhat insane lady with unintentionally pink hair (red hair dye? over top of the gray?) who lives on a farm about an hour away from the city. After the formalities of phone calls and paperwork, I drove to her home to check up.

It’s really been quite a procedure, the adoption. My puppy was born two nights ago, and the breeder will be sending me pictures periodically until I can visit again at the end of this month, and eventually bring him home in early December. The updates are exciting. I’ll be posting the pictures as I receive them to keep track of the progression.

Week 1.

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