zird is the word (lizardek) wrote,
zird is the word


We awoke to a house snuggled under a snow duvet. It snowed for hours, transforming the winter-grey world overnight. The moon last night was a perfect, storybook crescent. It looked like a paper cutout laid against the black backdrop of the sky. It's still snowing, the air is filled with frozen down. It's been snowing all day. The sky is a watercolor wash from white to pale grey to darker grey and back again.

I've gotten so much done this morning, although little of it was for work. My teeth are clean and sparkling, no cavities, although I did get reminded about flossing. I picked up more of the little (not the Reslig, thank god) picture frames from IKEA for work. I zipped to the bank and got a bank check for my passport renewal. I've completed and mailed my voter registration card since it turns out Cook County has no record of my previous voter registration. I've redone the logos and my mom's brochure and PDF'd it and emailed it for checking. I've worked for Ericsson somewhere in the middle of all this and am about to do more of it.

I'm going to the hospital after work to visit Emily who is undergoing her eye surgery today. I'm not sure how long it will take before they know whether it was successful or not. I'm taking her a walkman and a selection of my favorite mixed tapes, because I figured that she won't be able to watch TV or read with her eyes bandaged. Plus I thought, if she's feeling low, and wants me to, I can sing to her for awhile.

Then I'm going to book group. We're discussing Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser, which should make for a lively discussion. That book shocked the hell out of me, which surprised me. I knew the corporate practices of McDonald's and the rest of the fast food industry weren't good, but I had no idea of the scope of their evil. I didn't eat at a McDonald's for nearly 8 months afterwards, and even now try to go as seldom as possible. The one thing that I've read and heard is that if you are going to eat at a McDonald's anywhere, Sweden is probably one of the better places to do it, since they have such strict regulations in place regarding the food industry. Not that it makes me feel any less a hypocrite when I do go.

Interesting Interview with Jim Caviezel about Playing Christ in The Passion: "Working with Mel Gibson is like waltzing with a hurricane."

Radio Joy has a hold on me these days. I've gotten so numbed to the vast Europop wasteland that is popular radio here in Sweden that I mostly don't notice it much anymore except to turn it off completely when Eminem or Alcazar or the (GOD!) Sugababes come on. Mostly, I listen to CDs in the car, in an attempt to warp my children's musical tastes by introducing them at a young age to REAL music. Then I found 95.3 The Vinyl, which plays music from the 60's and 70's. Whenever I'm in the car now, I totally regress to childhood. I'm there in the big old wood-paneled Pontiac station wagon, listening to my dad's 8-tracks of George Harrison and Peter, Paul & Mary. I grew up listening to The Limelighters and The Kingston Trio and Broadway showtunes. In the past two days, I've been treated to a heady mix including: Strangers in the Night, Suspicious Minds, These Boots Were Made for Walking, Mustang Sally, Baby Love, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, The Letter, Love Potion #9, and too many other finger-snapping, head-bopping sing-along songs to list, including TWICE, one of my absolute favorite songs in the UNIVERSE: Build Me Up, Buttercup. I can't hear it enough. It's running through my brain. I'm mad for this song.

A little background on the Elvis thing: We've had the Elvis' #1 Hits in the Volvo (the green car) for a long time, and the kids love him. The Volvo has a CD changer, the Nissan (the white car) only has a radio. The other day, driving somewhere in the Nissan with the kids, Elvis came on the RADIO. After a few seconds, Martin said, "Mama, is this ELVIS?" "Yes," I replied, happily. long pause "But...we're in the white car."

Elvis: Not just for Volvos anymore.


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