That’s Deuling Banjos.  Couldn’t you tell?  I’m just so proud that I finally saw Deliverance after years of canoeing down the Buffalo and making jokes about it like I knew what I was talking about.

There were lofty intentions to do the whole NaBloPoMo thing, but obviously that plan went NaBloKaBlammo.   It’s probably been a month since we watched Deliverance, yet it’s about the only news I have that’s not about the human being I expelled from my hooha five months ago.  Inevitably, it’s all going to come back to her.  I need to just accept the inevitable.  The cliches are true.  I didn’t understand until it happened to me.  But she is my whole life and I don’t care who wants to make fun of me for it.  She really is that cool.

Honestly, though, I have realized I do miss having thoughts that don’t revolve around a baby and aren’t limited to 140 characters.  A common complaint, but I’m not kidding myself.  I haven’t the time nor the energy to be original.

Once upon a time, a certain three month old finally found her thumb.   There was great rejoicing, as her (oh so about to put her foot in her mouth) mother thought to herself, “I can say good-bye to the 2 AM demands to plug her piehole with a pacifier!  Now she can cork herself with her thumb!”

The next night, the same three month old still awoke just past midnight, this time screeching for her thumb.  Her hand, which is still functioning independently of her body, would not release said thumb from its fist.  In the absence of a thumb, her loving, devoted, gorgeous even at 1 AM mother stuck a pacifier in the tiny cherub’s mouth.  Nothing doing.  It was going to be a thumb or nothing.  So it was nothing.  Nothing but screams and short bursts of fitful sleep.  Until the sun came up.

She’s damn lucky she’s cute.

I decided I missed this place.

On Thursday I tripped walking up the steps and broke my one pair of work appropriate black summer shoes.  On my second day back at the office after two months off.  Now what am I supposed to do?  The horror!

Riveting.

I’ve more or less moved over to livejournal, since that’s what I use as a reader as well.  Feel free to add me there – jagadiah.livejournal.com

Now I’m wondering what two syllables are the most loved.  “Dog poop”?  “Past due”?  “Guess what?”  The syllables that really come to mind are bro-ken.

I remember fondly the days of apartment living, when I’d bitch about sharing walls with strangers, not being able to paint the walls any color I wanted, and wasting money every month when I could be building equity.

Earlier I mentioned that our heat went out and our roof leak returned worse than ever, all between Christmas and the second week in January.  Since that post, our new neighbors’ movers drove through our yard, digging out a chunk and leaving 8 inch deep tire tracks in the soft earth that will both have to filled and re-seeded.  During the painting of our bathroom trim (which was installed in 2003 and I have just never gotten to), the pipes behind our sink began leaking and apparently that particular size of pipe isn’t made anymore or something.  We’ve been through two replacements already, with SKUs matching those on the originals, and no dice.  Tonight I came home to find that our front spicket had exploded, coating everything in our front yard with icicles and apparently causing someone to call Metro to come turn off our water.

It’s not all that bad, really.  It could be worse and there will come times when it will be.  But days like this….I really wish I had a magical landlord that could swoop in on his unicorn, wave his wand and make all this stuff better without it taking a chunk out of my wallet.

According to TV Guide (by way of ack attack, my personal mentor regarding all things Lost or BSG), tonight’s return to the Galactica will include the identity of the final skin job.

I’m DYING to talk about this with someone, but the two people who I both see regularly and who watch the show are not around or (horrors!) haven’t finished the first half of S4. So I’ll talk to you about it. So there.

SPOILERS THROUGH SEASON 4

I haven’t exactly scoured the internet looking for theories, but I’ve seen quite a few people weighing in (including AA and her commenters) saying that Gaeta’s the fifth. This makes some sense to me, especially after his singing in sick bay (I know they don’t call it sick bay, but I can’t help it. They’re on a ship in space and my TNG conditioning can’t let it go) kind of coincided with the hybrid’s actions. The thing about the Gaeta theory that bugs me is that we already have Tigh and Tyrol who were so active in the revolution on New Caprica, do we really need another rebel in the final five? The other two have driven that irony into the ground.

I don’t want it to be Gaeta because I think he should have made a move for Dualla a long time ago. I haven’t watched seasons 1-3 for a long time so I have no concrete reason that I can recall to feel this way, but for some reason I’m thinking they should have been together. And that would have saved her from tainting Lee for me forever.

Bill or Laura as the fifth – boring, too easy. Kara – boring, too easy. Lee – boring, too easy. Somebody who has died….could be interesting. Like Zack maybe, or Cally (hork).

Personally, I think it’s Six’s bun in the oven. There was a clue on SciFi of an infant or fetus with the glowy spine. That seems like it would make it way too obvious, but I’m still going with it. Now, this does rely on her actually being pregnant and it actually being Tigh’s baby. But this would be the first baby born of two cylons (that we know about) and would explain why everybody was all “the final five are in the fleet with the humans” and then why D’Anna boarded Galactica, took stock, and then said “four of the final five are in the fleet”. Why the change in the number?

Now, my boss disagrees with me, referencing the episode where D’Anna first sees the faces of the Five, saying that she recognizes one of them and says something like “oh, dude, I totally know you. What’s up?” and why would she say that to any of the final four we already know about? So he’s sure that the fifth is someone we already know, which would dispute my theory, obviously. I say, she’s a cylon. We don’t know what she knows, or who she knows. AND Ron Moore kind of said that the final cylon is not in the Last Supper picture, but that might be a huge red herring. If it’s true, though, it means that none of our main peeps are the fifth. So I dunno. I guess we’ll see tonight.

ETA I was wrong.  Not the first time.

Haha, I’ve never even seen Babylon 5, but I did a quote search for the word January and that came up, with today’s date and everything.  Coincidence?  I think not.

But to the point….

Things I have learned so far in January of 2009:

1. I am a grown up.  I can tell you this with confidence because over the last two weeks, our heater has gone out (see below), my car threw up while driving 75 mph on I65 and then spent two days at the shop (see Twitter), and our roof leak has returned and has increased in both temperament and size since its last visit (see facebook).  Also, as we are on the cusp of likely starting to stock up on crib sheets and cloth diapers, our dryer has started making new noises.  Not good noises.  Gross, scraping, loud noises.  So much for things happening in threes.  But I am going to deal with one thing at a time.  The prospect of either spending thousands of dollars to repair my car or (ugh) financing a new one, installing a new roof, and having to buy a new dryer has not yet sent me into a torrent of tears or a nervous breakdown.  This proves that I am a grown up.  Officially.

I do reserve the right to rescind that title should the urge to cry and throw a tantrum becomes too strong to ignore.

2. Taking a picture every day is harder than it looks.  I’m eight days in and I’ve almost forgotten 7 times.  I think I’ll have a lot of ‘photo taken on blah blah date at 11:26 pm” notes on my flickr pages.

3. Having survived the last four weeks and the crummy weather we’ve had, I think I could actually live in Germany without losing my mind.

4. I’m equally relieved and disconcerted that I’m not experiencing most of the things my pregnant friends are experiencing.  I also look pregnant and I think I’m not supposed to this early, but the people that regularly see me naked back me up on this one (my harem, my body paint artists, the students in the Human Form sculpture class I teach and model for in my bedroom, and my husband).  It’s just that I’ve lost weight in certain places and gained it in my belly.  Maybe I’m retaining water, maybe it’s insulation, but I look like I’ve got a baby up in there.  And I kind of love it.  How far do you have to be before you’re allowed to start sticking that shit out and be proud of looking like you, and only you, keep Anheiser Busch in business?

5. That last one wasn’t really something I’d learned.  It’s just a thing.  Here’s something I have learned for real – how to use the word obsequious in a sentence.  ‘Obsequious’ just sounds better than ‘kiss ass’, doesn’t it?

If for no other reason than being jealous when other people complete it, I’m going to give Project 365 a go.  I’m already slacking and using a picture that I put on Twitpic this morning to illustrate how awesome I look hanging out in our cold ass house.

We discovered on December 30 that our furnace wasn’t working, and by the time CB was able to diagnose the problem on December 31st, it was after 5 on New Years Eve, so we’re hoping against hope that someone will be able to come fix our gas valve thingamabob tomorrow.  Otherwise it’s going to be a long, cold weekend.  On the bright side, it’s hard to do laundry and paint with frozen fingers.  I’ll be on the couch under blankets if you need me.

My mom got the Sex and the City movie DVD for Christmas this year. My brothers mentioned that they’d probably watch it, so I started telling them about the neighbor Dante’s full frontal shot. Then I had to reenact seeing the movie in the theater, sitting next to my mother not only through the girls’ sex scenes but then through a screen full of peen. Tramatic.

My brother asked me if I’d seen Eastern Promises, where apparently Viggo Mortensen drops trou and has a fight scene in the buff. No, I hadn’t seen it, but I sure will be seeing it now. Anyway, his point was that the nakedness was apparently pretty gratuitous and turned into what he called a sausage fest, though as I understand it there was only one sausage, albeit a lot of it.

So I’d never even heard of Eastern Promises until Thursday, and here Jorge Garcia is talking about the same thing. Nobody has ever warned me about too many boobies or cootch being in a movie. I think the message is clear – it is our duty to help Viggo change the world and even out the male/female nudity ratio in film. It is our duty to see this work of art. And hell, weiner aside, it’s Viggo Mortensen. It’s gotta be pretty good even without his naked bod. The naked bod is probably just a bonus for those of us who have been extra good this year.

The dog patiently posing with my favorite present.  There’s some carnage next to his leg from his earlier attack on the gingerbread man toy Santa put in his stocking.  He kicked that gingerbread man’s cotton ass.  Who’s the boss now, gingerbread man?

Merry Christmas, y’all!