I'm All Right

I attended the monthly meeting last night for a group of which I am a member.

Despite my little blog here where I detail much of what goes on with me, there are still people I know in real life that are just now learning of the recent happenings with me. One such person stopped me last night to inquire after my personal state of mind in light of the fact that I am recently separated and currently not working.

“Are you…okay,” he asked meaningfully, looking me straight in the eye.

And, of course, my first inclination was to press the back of my hand to my forehead and stare dramatically into the middle distance while responding in my very most emotionally restrained Gloria Swanson voice (with just the barest hint of a Boston accent), “Yes, dahling, I’m fine…Don’t worry about me, dear!” while quivering my lower lip almost imperceptibly.

Because, is it just me or is it, like, REALLY hard to resist the temptation to over act like a thirties movie star in these situations?

While all this flashed through my head last night (including a bit where I strode a few steps away, rested my hand on a nearby table and gazed pensively out the window toward the river [because I was at Whaler’s Catch near the river] and added, “These things happen…” in a Gloria Swanson whisper), what I really said was,

“Actually, I’m doing pretty well.”

Because, believe it or not, I think I am.

Meeting the Challenge

I have to say, I've had more fun than I ever imagined meeting Aynex's recent challenge to be creative.

For inspiration, I looked no further than my own obsession with bath products. I probably shouldn't tell anyone this, but a really good way to drive me crazy would be to take away my cash, and/or credit and debit cards, and turn me loose in a Bath and Body Works (or any bath product based store).

In short, bath products? They are my crack cocaine.

I have lusted from afar for years after the products available at the Lush website and even torture myself by subscribing to the catalog, ultimately always deciding the stuff is too expensive to order (those shipping costs are murder!).

So it didn't take me too long to decide what I wanted to do to meet the challenge. It did, however, take me a while to assemble the ingredients:

Let's just say one doesn't find citric acid on the shelf at every grocery store. The helpful staff at a local health food store had some on hand though, and today I stirred up some magic by mixing most of the ingredients above to form this delightfully scented lavender concoction that I molded in soap molds:

And then, thankfully, successfully unmolded (does everyone get as scared and tight-assed as me when unmolding stuff? I mean, it's like I think if it doesn't pop out perfectly I'll completely freak out.)

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present, for the first time anywhere, the world's first Bizzy Fizzy:

That's right! A hand made, lavender scented Bizzy Fizzy for the bath!

What's that you say? You think it's just plain old WHITE and BORING? Au contraire, mon fraire! Because, when you pop it in the bath? Not only does it fizz up in the MOST delightful way, give off clouds of gentle, soothing lavender scent, and release healing baking soda, it ALSO (magically) turns the water a very pale lavender.

How cool is that?

But that's not all! Oh no! As us girls know, a quality product is only half the battle. The other half being: cute packaging. Not to worry! I have that covered (heh--get it--"covered"--heh) too. Because all hand made lavender Bizzy Fizzies come wrapped in a lovely and distinctive lavender bow with a sprig of (I can't stand myself) FRESH LAVENDER grown and tended by my very own hand attached.

Can Martha Stewart kiss my ass or what? [Insert crazy, whacked out Howard Dean scream here.]

Okay, calming down now. You need to see the final, lovely product all wrapped up in a pretty, pretty bow:

Most exciting of all, this Bizzy Fizzy from the very first batch of Bizzy Fizzies ever, can be YOURS absolutely free of charge if you are the first person to request it in the comments.

Happy soaking!

Fugging the Oscars

The Fug Girls will be live blogging the Oscars here!

Saturday

I swear, I am the busiest unemployed person I know.

Yesterday began with a 1.5 hour accidental yoga session. I say "accidental" because I thought I was in for about a 45 minute workout and only learned after I was there on my mat that it was to be a double dose. Not that I don't need it? But OUCH.

Then I dashed around procuring supplies for my challenge project and enjoyed a brief visit from my son who good naturedly took care of some electronic issues I have around the house (I don't even attempt such things on my own because it makes me completely crazy).

After that, it was off to Christa's for another amazing lunch: homemade vegetable beef stew, cheesy corn muffins and an amazing lemon chest pie (okay, so it's "chess" pie, I prefer the mispronunciation I developed as a kid). We then managed to load our stuffed selves into the car and head off to the library to replenish our supply of free movies.

Next, we took ourselves off to the real cinema to see "Atonement". Based on the novel by Ian McEwan, the movie is set in 1930's England where the events of one hot summer day echo in the lives of star crossed lovers Cecelia and Robbie forever. We were all pretty much thumbs up about the whole thing, however, we did agree the it could have done with a little more editing. We think this a lot, however, and generally prefer fast moving Tarantino, or Woody Allen type stuff. So, we may be the wrong people to ask to give our opinion on the straight forward epic.

I will say that I was enthralled by the score which was ingeniously woven into the story by incorporating the sound of a manual typewriter with the music. Sounds strange, but it really worked.

After the movie, it was on to the serious business of a few hundred games of pool and yet another party where I was forced to retoxify my body with more adult beverages and to hang out with this guy

who I haven't seen in...oh...a silly amount of time. He isn't blurry in real life, only when I am ineptly pointing my camera at him. To be honest, it's a wonder I got out with any pictures at all as senseless as I was (though I think I had some help).

Today? I am tired. Tired, but feeling totally justified about my plan to hang out on my couch and be a complete vegetable with the remote for the majority of today. Which, in my opinion at least, is what Sunday is all about.

Challenged

I've been challenged by Aynex Mercado to do something creative. I spent a few minutes kicking my own ass when I first read her post, since I've just recently mastered the art of making home made cinnamon rolls (with yeast and everything) and made a batch just the other day all the while telling myself I should take pictures of the process and post the recipe.

But, of course, I didn't.

Anyway.

I'm still picking up the gauntlet and planning to make something I've always wanted to try. It will take me a few days to gather the materials, but I'm in.

Party in the Playhooooouse!

Somebody turned thirty-seven last night and we were left with no choice but to have a party in the playhouse. Lots of fun things happened and were said. Thanks to Mr. Michelob Ultra, I'm no longer sure what any of them were. (BAD blogger!)

I do distinctly remember these super cute Nikes, a gift to the super cute Birthday Girl who declined to have her face posted here, but was all about displaying her shoes. And, damn, who can blame her?! It's a little hard to tell, but those Nikes have black and pink patent leather over regular white leather and spring-loaded soles. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say they are the hottest sneakers EVER (because they are).

[Edited to add: Oh! I just remembered! The Birthday Girl did agree to let me write a novel based on her experiences. We came up with a title, too: "Two Boobs and Three Boys: The Story of a Marriage". Catchy, no?]

Four Random Things

1. Saturday I visited a land where men cook for their women while said women lollygag and drink wine. And I’m not talking heating up a can of Campbell’s, either. I mean polenta and a creamy squash and tomato soup; braised steak in burgundy sauce and spicy baked chicken. All this and good conversation, too. It gives a girl hope.

2. Try as I might, I cannot adequately express my love for Gap Long and Lean jeans. I bought another pair (out of sheer necessity of course) and am not sure I’ll ever buy anything else. Once I got the proper size on in the fitting room, I couldn’t bear to take them off to purchase them, but rather peeled off the tags, paid at the register, and wore them out of the store (setting off the shoplifting alarms with a flourish).

Can I just say that there are few better feelings in the world than pulling on a pair of jeans that are just the right size and somehow magically DON’T make you look fat? (Girls? True?) I swear, the few times it has happened to me in my life, it’s like I button the top button and, out of nowhere, a perfect ray of sunshine illuminates me and a chorus of heavenly angels sing. At that moment? Whatever is on the price tag is SO beside the point.

3. I went back to my yoga class last night for the first time since The December Crisis. It was, in a word, delightful. I felt light and boneless afterward and relieved of at least half the stress I came in with. (No small feat for me these days.) Tim, my teacher, is amazing (and also a reader!). Every class is a gift that generates food donations for a local nonprofit organization called Paducah Cooperative Ministries that, among lots of other things, helps to feeds the needy. If you’re local, I highly recommend you check it out.

4. I am thrilled beyond words to report that Sara Astruc, possibly the best blogger ever, is back to writing again here. Her online journal, Perfect Way, is one of the first I ever got hooked on back in the 90’s and her writing inspires me to this day. Welcome back, Sara!

Brookfield, 1960

My Mom and Dad.

Innie

I'm innie these days. Which means I don't want to write at all.

I woke up this morning thinking about writing and art and how it seems to me to be all about sharing yourself or at least a part of yourself. And then I immediately thought about Joni Mitchell. Who seems to me to just go on and rip her chest open and expose her beating heart.

Of course, I then had to throw on my "Blue" CD and then later hop on over to YouTube where I enjoyed this video despite the weirdly wooden Masterpiece Theater-ish intro by Johnny Cash.



It just makes me sad to compare Joni to what often passes today for talent. She is probably even younger here than Britney Spears or JSimp and so completely beyond them that she might as well be from another galaxy.

Fortunately, other bloggers are not as pressed for content as I am today. You need to check out this one.

A Sweet Link

I have a strict policy in Bizzyville of linking to all posts of which I am the subject. With that in mind, I have no choice but to send you here today.

This Valentine's Day, I am especially greatful for and to all my friends. Especially the long term ones.

Iced In

The crazy winter weather around these parts continues. Everything is covered in a thick layer of ice. This is especially dangerous in a town like ours that has huge trees around every corner and in nearly every yard. I could have posted some really alarming photos of houses where trees and branches heavy with ice have crashed through roofs (like my next door neighbor's for instance), but I don't like to capitalize on the misery of others.

I was iced in last night at a friend's house where I was tragically forced to consume chocolate dipped strawberries and California Chicken Salad slathered on church crackers. For those of you unfamiliar, California Chicken Salad is God's perfect chicken salad recipe and includes curry, almonds, grapes and..oh I don't remember what else. It is magically delicious and was developed by a local restauranteur a couple of decades ago. No one in this town is without the recipe and, if mine wasn't somewhere in a box right now, I'd post it.

In the midst of all this cracker crunching and consumption of adult beverages, we got a call from some other friends. A power line heavy with ice had crashed into their roof causing all sorts of chaos and necessitating a call to 911. The whole situation was deemed unsafe by the Authorities until morning, and these friends, their house without power now, headed on over with their dog, Zoe, a very Great Dane.

We all got a chuckle out of Zoe, pictured here with Caron, who is trying to check her e-mail. Zoe is making this difficult for Caron because she for some reason feels the need to press her booty up against Caron, who is in fact not any bigger than Zoe:

This went on for about five minutes, the Zoe leaning and the giggling, long enough for me to get the camera and take this photo. What we learned only later, is that this behavior on Zoe's part was likely a silent cry for help and the only official warning sign for the Very Big Poop that took place on the rug just a few feet away immediately following this extended session of extreme leaning.

And, while I don't like to embarass a girl, I have to tell you that I don't know exactly what they feed Zoe? But from the smell of things (which was damn near bad enough for a time to force us out into the ice storm), I'm just guessing that it ain't Science Diet.

Icy

New Favorite

Try as I might, I cannot keep FurGirl's damp, stinky arse off the softest, most luxurious surface on the floor, my new Retro Diner rug. As soon as my back is turned? There she is again.

Flirting with the 'Fly (One last time.)

I know I said it was over with the 'fly (as in Lunesta). You'll recall my entry (or was it entries?) about my unconscious post-midnight ramblings under the influence.

And it really is still over. Except that last night I realized, quite late, that I was out of my natural herbal sleep supplement, Melatonin. Did I mention it was late? And there, on my nightstand still, now covered in a thin layer of dust, was the 'fly.

I popped the lid open. Only two left. I glanced around furtively. FurGirl seemed to shrug.

It was late (I may have mentioned that already). I was tired and I didn't want any dithering around about getting to sleep. I need my rest (I said). I need my rest, damnit (I said again, but with a little more force).

I downed the next-to-last 'fly pill, donned my favorite flannel gown, and tucked into my gently pre-heated bed. The dog snored quietly on her special rug in the floor next to me. By the time I queued up season six of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" on my DVD player, I was already feeling drowsy.

Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout...

I remember saying to myself as I drifted off.

I'm estimating that last conscious thought happened at about 12:30 a.m.

I didn't have another conscious thought again until 10:30 a.m. And that next thought was,

"What the hell...?"

I woke up to the slow realization that I was tenderly cradling something in my arms. It was something square and made of cardboard and I was also pressing my cheek lovingly against it.

That something turned out to be a box of zesty cheddar flavored Cheez-It crackers.

As my foggy brain continued to swim slowly to the surface of consciousness, I next realized I myself was nestled in a prickly bed of Cheez It crumbs.

And it was right about then that I had the worst realization of all. And that realization was the distinct feeling of (sweet Jesus!)...wetness.

Fully awake now, I threw back the covers with a gasp scaring the dog into premature consciousness, FurGirl let out a startled yelp, as my thrown off covers revealed an overturned diet coke near my hip, slowly gurgling its remaining contents right onto me, my high quality sheets, and, presumably, into my Simmons Beautyrest.

I leapt from the bed in a shower of cheez-it crumbs, tripped over my dazed, confused and still startled dog (Mommy is generally NOT a quick mover in the morning) screeching expletives all the way. Down. Boom.

I came up quickly, however, determined to save my matress from any more of a sticky fate than was already inevitable. I grabbed up the Coke can, and stripped the bedclothes and matress cover off in one fell swoop. As luck would have it, only a small stain of diet Coke had seeped through. And a few spritzes from my trusty bottle of Shout took care of that.

All in all, it could have been a lot worse.

So, I say to you once again? This time? It's REALLY over between me and the 'fly.

(If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'.)

Sad But True

I should have believed it the first time I heard it, but I simply couldn't bear it.

The truth is that our local World Market is closing. According to the people at the cash register that I grilled yesterday while purchasing the above pictured yummy French Soap (on clearance!), the reason for the decision is NOT based on a lack of profits. Yes, you read that right.

Apparently, there are reasons for the decision to close other than the economic kind.

I don't get it.

Deco Fever

A few newly produced rugs from from the people that brought you Retro Diner, this time in the art deco style.

Love!

Monday, Monday

I did the Super Bowl Sunday thing yesterday.

The festivities included all the traditional stuff: wings, cocktail wienies, beer and, in my particular case, really bad choices in the wager department. Football is just not my bag. Ask me to wager on whether or not I think Julie Christie will get the Oscar (YES).

See how I am? From football to Julie Christie. Welcome to my world.

Not much to report otherwise today. I’m obsessed with the “Juno” soundtrack which I can stream for free from the website.

Tonight is the first meeting of the 40-50 group. Get the particulars here.

Juno, Terry Fator, Custom Rugs

We saw Juno Friday night and, let me tell you, there isn’t a false note or bad performance anywhere in this little charmer of a movie. Falling on the scale at somewhere between Napoleon Dynamite and Little Miss Sunshine, the film tells the story of Juno, a teenager who finds herself pregnant after her first sexual encounter with her geeky friend, Bleeker. From the innovative titles to the quirky soundtrack to the fountain of smart dialogue, this one draws you in from the beginning and earns the Oscar nods. For shizz.

Last night, I saw Terry Fator at the Carson Center. I was repeatedly told that this guy had won some sort of prime time TV reality contest. As it happened, I posted a video of what I thought was his performance with his puppet, Achmed the Dead Terrorist, several months ago. Aside from this information, I knew nothing about Mr. Fator or what he does going in.

What I’ve just now learned (through the magic of the internet) is that Jeff Dunham is the “Achmed” guy and Terry Fator is someone else entirely. Actually, this is Terry Fator:



Mr. Fator performed last night with a staggering array of puppets and singing voices. And the fact that he is not Jeff Dunham would explain why he didn’t do the “Achmed” bit (duh!). We were, however, no less entertained. Despite his fairly ordinary looks and manor, this guy did dead-on singing impressions that ran the gamut, among them: Dennis DeYoung (Styx, for heaven’s sake), Etta James, Ozzy, Garth Brooks, Elvis, Sammy Davis, Michael Jackson, and many MANY others. It was lots of fun.

Lastly, but certainly most exciting of all, through the most fortunate string of events, I now have in my possession, a one-of-a-kind custom designed area rug made especially for my little retro hacienda. I invested a little sweat equity of my own and here is the end result:

How cool is that? Seriously? I sit and stare at it a lot. It measures about 2 feet by 4.5 feet and was originally designed to go in front of my kitchen sink. But, honestly, although I’ve been assured it can stand up to that kind of traffic, I simply cannot bear to put it in that kind of peril of food drips, so its final resting place is still TBD. This rug is but one of many soon to be produced by a gallery owner that will be going into Lowertown in the next year or so who has the capability of producing any design imaginable in any dimension. The possibilities sort of boggle the mind. [Note to Nikki: Yes, you must collaborate on a design.]

Hopefully, I can link to a website soon, but as for now the site is still under construction. My rug as you see it here, is not yet quite finished for all its loveliness. It will undergo one more shearing and contouring before it is complete.

But, you know me, I have no control and had to share IMMEDIATELY. Because I love you guys.