Inspiration, WS, and a Recipe

I read this fantastic quote yesterday in the September issue of Real Simple and knew I had to share:

Our deepest fear is not that we're inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond all measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world.

-Marianne Williamson

How's that for a little pick-me-up?

I'd link to the ensuing excellent article entitled, "What are you waiting for?" by Gail Blanke aka "The Motivator" but it is, alas, not available online. I can send you here where many of Gail's other empowering pieces are posted.

In other news, in case you haven't noticed, William Sledd has finally (by choice) busted out of his state of relative local anonymity. First, there was this piece from Mary Thorsby heralding William's cover shot and extensive feature article in a local magazine on newsstands now. Then this morning, I awoke to find a story in today's Paducah Sun (here's hoping that link holds).

On a more personal note, I've just recently begun to take advantage of the Amazon Grocery. My love affair with the Amazon Marketplace has been well documented here, I continue to have a very itchy trigger finger for buying reasonably priced used music and movies. The Grocery, however, I have come to more out of need and frustration over the hit-and-miss availability in this town of organic and (somewhat) more exotic foodstuffs.

My first order was placed after having a complete meltdown at Kroger after filling my cart with all the ingredients for Pad Thai and then finding my favorite brand of Pad Thai sauce randomly unavailable in its usual spot. (For the record, I know I should be making my own sauce, but dang, who wants to buy fish sauce?)

I stomped home in a huff, logged on and ordered an entire case of the sauce which conveniently landed on my doorstep just a few days later.

I was hooked. Although...in my unemployed state, I generally do try to control myself somewhat. Most recently, after having a hard time finding brown rice available in any sort of decent quantity even at Sam's, I logged on and ordered this (RiceSelect Royal Blend, Whole Grain Texmati Brown & Red Rice with Pearled Barley & Rye Berries, 32-Ounce Jars (Pack of 4)). One hundred and twenty eight glorious organic ounces of it.

It arrived yesterday and last night I lit some incense, slipped into my Birkenstocks, grabbed my camera, hummed a Joni Mitchell tune to myself and proceeded to cook up a batch of my delicious, satisfying diet friendly, low fat, high fiber Spanish Rice which I'll share with you now. You don't have to wear Birckenstocks while you cook? But it does seriously help to bring out your inner earth mother.

Suzanne's Spanish Brown Rice

2 Tablespoons Olive Oil

1 Chopped Onion

1 Teaspoon Ground Coriander (I use more)

1 Teaspoon Ground Cumin (I use more)

2 Cups Liquid either--chicken or beef broth or 2 cups water and bullion cube

1 Cup Brown Rice or Brown Rice Blend, rinsed and drained

1 Cup of your favorite salsa (the spicier and more exotic the better)

Garnish

Chopped Fresh Cilantro

Chopped and Salted Avocado

Fat Free or Low Fat Sour Cream

1. Heat oil in a medium skillet with a lid. Add onion and saute until translucent over medium-low heat. Add the coriander and cumin and saute, stirring constantly for 1 minute.
2. Add rice blend and saute for a bit, then add liquid (and bullion cube if applicable) and some salt. Bring to a boil stirring constantly. Cover and reduce heat to low (lowest possible setting) for 45 minutes. You may meditate now.
3. Stir in salsa, and some of your chopped cilantro re-cover and cook, still on very low, for an additional 5-10 minutes.

At this point your dish will look lovely like this:

Serve garnished with cilantro, chopped avocado and sour cream. Enjoy this guilt free, low fat spicy, organic delicious and satisfying one dish meal. You won't eat it all in one setting because this recipe makes A TON. The good news is that it keeps brilliantly in the fridge and makes a wonderful side dish for any meal.

Going New Zealand

I had dinner with a friend recently whose youngest child just went away to college. Many of my friends are now experiencing, some for the first time, the empty next phenom. I myself had this experience far too early in my child’s life (but that’s a whole ‘nother story).

I think all parents, at one time or another, but usually on those Tuesday nights when you had to work late, your kid has a ball game in fifteen minutes, there is absolutely not one clean towel in the house, you’re frantically searching for a missing cleat, everybody is generally starving, and ohmygod where the HELL are your car keys you just had them a second ago, and your kid picks this moment to announce he has a science project due TOMORROW, all parents (or all Mommies at least) resort to that same magic thought:

When he/she/they grow up and go away to college? I’m gonna sleep all day every Saturday. I’m gonna soak in an uninterrupted bubble bath every single night. I’m gonna take control of the remote? And never let it go…etc.

And while that’s a really nice concept? It just doesn’t work that way in real life.

Unless, of course, you’re a Dad.

Because Dads are different. I call it the New Zealand Effect.

I know a Dad (who shall remain nameless) who put their child on a plane to New Zealand and, because I was with said Dad for the entire eight days their child was out of the country, I know. This Dad? This Dad did not spend one second of his time worrying/obsessing/freaking out about their child’s extremely remote whereabouts.

Instead, this Dad went calmly about his business for the duration of the trip and then proceeded to forget what time this child’s return plane was landing, prompting said child to borrow a friend’s cell phone and remind this Dad, “Hello? It’s me, your child? At the airport?” Of course, this Dad (without a second’s guilt mind you—CHUCKLING about it, even) jumped in his car and went and picked up the child.

And life went on as normal.

A Mom in this situation?

Well, a Mom would spend the duration of the flight (which she would learn immediately including flight number) convinced she was keeping the aircraft aloft with just her thoughts. She would need a phone call upon touchdown, a regular check-in call…etc.

A Mom would know and be able to immediately calculate (even though she normally sucks at math) the time differential between the US and New Zealand and thus always be able to envision her child at any given moment and what they should be doing i.e., waking, lunching, flossing (as if!).

A Mom would know what time the return flight was taking off (in New Zealand and US time), and would be aware of the exact times and durations of any connecting flights and or layovers. A Mom would again keep the craft aloft with her superior mental powers, and if necessary, be more than happy to join those guys that signal airplanes with the orange-coned flashlights on the tarmac in guiding her child’s plane safely to the proper gate.

Unfortunately, these handy Mommy skills that kick in some time during the third trimester and are oh so necessary for the next eighteen years or so are utterly useless when your little darling strikes out on his or her own.

Basically, literally over night in many cases, a Mommy has to go New Zealand (Daddy-style).

And it’s a whole lot harder than it sounds.

The freight train of evolutionary instinct that is Motherhood just doesn’t stop on a dime. Oh no. You gotta apply the air brake and then the thing screeches on down the track for miles afterward.

The good news? The good news is that, when your child’s plane comes in for a landing and you don’t know about it? They’ll call.

Eventually, you learn to negotiate a new sort of relationship. And come to know your child as a friend which is probably the most rewarding of all stages of parenthood.

Occasionally, you’ll have to reach back into your uber-Mommy skill set. They’ll actually need you to guide them to the gate with your orange flashlight. Which, as a well prepared Mommy, you always keep handy on a nearby shelf. Because you knew this would happen sooner or later.

More and more often though, your child learns to stand on his or her own.

And so do you.

WWWSS?

I have to say, it was a rather exciting morning at Bizzyville HQ.

After all the stress, embarrassment, and near heat stroke conditions at the yard sale, we finally got the payoff (well, besides the cashola).

Long time readers will recall that the view outside my office window has been that of a very unattractive rented semi truck trailer parked in my back yard for well over a year. Inside this monstrosity was all manner of crap we didn't actually need but had no place to store.

I'm happy to report that's all in the past now. Thanks to this guy:

Who, without much fanfare, single handedly managed to load up the now empty semi and haul it away in under thirty minutes and without crashing into either our house or our barn.

Unbeknownst to said guy, he had quite an audience in my friend, Keena, and I who up in my office watched the whole process excitedly and I documented the event by snapping about a zillion photos.

And those of you seeing these photos may say to yourself something like:

Self? Why would she not just raise the blinds instead of taking pictures around them?

I myself asked myself this same question upon reviewing the pictures afterward. And I'll tell yourself the same thing I told myself:

I have no idea.

Naturally, among the many comments bandied about between Keena and I during The Big Event, one of them was: WWWSS? (What would William Sledd say?) About those overalls? Because, dude is SO not pulling that look off.

Actually, that's a rather easy question to answer, even without the benefit of WS nearby, isn't it?

Speaking of which, thanks to a tip from fellow blogger ChristaD, you can catch the latest press on WS in an i-Caught webcast story from ABC News (you might have to endure a preview first). Also, William is now updating his blog on at least a somewhat regular basis here.

Anyway, back to the story at hand, it all ended when Overalls jumped in his truck and backed up the now loaded semi precariously near the house below where Keena and I were screeching flapping about it:

And then he drove away.

Whew. I found this whole ordeal so exhausting that, afterwards, I simply had no choice but to soak in a hot jacuzzi for a good forty-five minutes. Not sure how much longer I can keep up this pace.

Design Star Season Two Challenge Four: No Joy in Mudville

Y'all. Last night's Design Star. It was a tragedy on so many levels.

With six designers remaining the challenge was to create a Las Vegas wedding reception for 75 guests on a budget of $10,000. Two designers would be eliminated.

The competitors met with the the happy couple, Vegas natives Bruno and Stephanie, who wanted (at the same time, mind you) a lavender princess-style design and a rockabilly Vegas themed red and black design.

Ahem.

The designer coming up with the plan selected by Stephanie and Bruno would lead the group in transforming a basic hotel conference room into the event they envisioned. The designer with the concept judged to be the worst would be eliminated off the bat.

I'll just get right to it and tell you that annoying designer, RobB Mariani won this challenge with a design so heinous it was laughable. Lavender feather boas, giant spinning dice, a DJ platform surrounded by huge painted flames, and a reproduction of the famous Vegas sign blinking away over the bride and groom's table won the day. The couple loved it.

Christina Ray, whose design favored only the wishes of the bride, was tearfully eliminated.

Next, under major time constraints, the remaining competitors set about frantically transforming the hotel space. Designer Will Smith was probably the most vocal critic of RobB's design. Once down to the dirty work, the team came to the realization that RobB's original drawing was not to scale. This meant that many of the elements like the spinning dice, blinking sign, etc. loomed much larger in the space than intended and it ended up being a major challenge just to fit it all in.

But fit it in they did, every tacky, screaming, blinking element. I don't think this photo adequately illustrates just what a hideous design this is, but it's the only one I could find on the site:

Will you look at that? "Winning" design? Please.

The show lost me right there. None of the designers, should they win their own show, will ever be expected to bring that kind of tackiness to the masses. And if they did? They'd be fired, assuming the show ever even made it to air.

I am unsure, then, why the producers thought a princess-meets-biker themed wedding reception was an appropriate design challenge. It is, essentially, a no-win situation. Give the couple the tackiness they want? And lose your integrity as a quality designer (assuming you were one in the first place). Give the couple a tasteful design? And be eliminated for your lack of trailer park sensibilities.

Did the producers think this would be funny? Because, after living through three previous challenges with these designers, I can assure you, it was most certainly not funny. Obviously these competitors all have their hearts set on winning their own show and are putting it all out there on the line in front of millions with each and every episode (and making good money for HGTV in the process). It seems to me, at a minimum, the show could give them in return a reasonable challenge that would bring out the best their talents have to offer.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

Yes. Charming, talented, pithy sweetie-pie Sparkle Josh Johnson was eliminated. And if he'd been eliminated in a reasonable challenge? It would have been one thing. But to be eliminated as the result of a trailer trash wedding reception? Is just not okay. Nevertheless, Josh shows himself to be a class act in his exit interview.

It could be my imagination, but even the judges looked fairly disgusted about this whole challenge.

Hello, HGTV? What were you thinking?

Inland Empire

Last night, my friend Christina and I decided to settle in and watch my latest Netflix rental, "Inland Empire". With a cast that included Laura Dern, Diane Ladd, Harry Dean Stanton, Mary Steenburgen, and Jeremy Irons, it's no mystery that I would want to add this film to my queue. Plus, here is the description blurb:

Nikki (Laura Dern) is a married actress who ends up in bed with her co-star (Justin Theroux), but is it an affair or just acting? When the two start calling each other by their characters' names, the faint line between fact and fiction gets even fuzzier in this David Lynch mystery. Jeremy Irons stars as Kingsley, the director of the film within the film who does little to help the characters -- or the audience -- distinguish reality from fantasy.

Sounds intriguing, no?

And perhaps it would have been except for one thing: The David Lynch factor. Because you just never know about a David Lynch film (see: Mullholland Drive, etc.) and Inland Empire was no exception.

I'll just try to sum up the plot for you (and, don't worry, there's no such thing as a spoiler in a David Lynch film). Laura Dern and Justin Theroux and are starring in a movie directed by Jeremy Irons. Laura and Justin learn from Jeremy on the first day of the shoot that the film is actually a re-make of the original film which was never finished because (dramatic pause) the original stars were murdered.

Unfortunately, this is the first and last bit of coherent information the film has to offer. Otherwise we are treated to (in no particular order): a beat up hooker crying in a hotel room, a crazy woman with a screwdriver, a pistol, a jealous husband, random scenes in Poland, various sets and sound stages, three people dressed up as large brown furry hares (as in "rabbits") on a stage, France, mobsters, a scary clown face, a chorus of hookers, something about a watch and some silk, the circus, something about animals, an unwanted pregnancy, ketchup, some VERY SIGNIFICANT letters on a metal door, a game show, gratuitous startling moments, and endless ominous music.

At least sixty percent of the movie was made up of this:

Extreme close-ups of Laura Dern.

We are now on a first-name basis with all of Laura's pores and have a more than nodding acquaintance with the inside of her nostrils. If she wasn't before filming this movie, Laura is now an expert on what I've come to call the "concerned-bordering-on-terrified" with a twist of "eyes-glistening-with-unshed-tears" facial expression . I cannot begin to tell you how often the film featured this look. Almost constantly.

When Laura wasn't expressing The Look, she was often screaming or vomiting blood. I have absolutely no trouble imagining that this film could have sent the girl into a complete emotional tailspin. I have no idea how you dig deep enough to emote terror and misery in response to what seemed to me to be no logical plot stimulus whatsoever.

Laura? If you're reading, honey, please get into therapy. You deserve it.

During the course of the of film, Christina and I had conversations that went like this:

ME

Are those horses?

CHRISTINA

NO! They're rabbits!

ME

Rabbits?

CHRISTINA

Look at their ears.

ME

Oh, right. Their ears.

CHRISTINA

They could be donkeys.

ME

That's it! Donkeys. They look like donkeys.

SATAN

(coming in late)

Are those rats?

ME

They could be rats.

CHRISTINA

They are HARES.

ME

Sometimes Laura Dern calls the donkeys. On that phone over there.

CHRISTINA

Back to the Warsaw ghetto.

ME

That girl disappeared.

CHRISTINA

This scaring me.

ME
Look! The watch! Now we have to burn a hole through the silk.

CHRISTINA

Wait, it's hooker time again!

ME

Oh my god, no.

CHRISTINA

She isn't going to...kiss the hooker?

CHRISTINA AND ME

NOOOOOOOOooooooooooo!

(But it happened anyway.)

Here's the thing, though: we kept watching.

You could say we were hoping in vain for some sort of coherent resolution (which we were) or you could say we were morbidly fascinated (which we were), but the truth is we threw away time we will never see in our lives again. For hours. On a movie with no discernible plot and absolutely no payoff whatsoever.

Which is why you gotta say David Lynch has got something going on.

I'm just not sure what.

Saturday

Good morning all!

I'm in a good mood because I'm pathetically grateful that it is 11:30 a.m. and the temperature is cool, breezy, and less-than-ninety-degrees. Whew. I don't know about where you are, but it has been DAMN HOT around these parts. The kind of hot where you walk out the front door and actually have the physical sensation of feeling your wrinkles deepen. The kind of hot where your make-up just lets go and slides off your face in sad, slow, defeated rivulets. The kind of hot where, when you come in from it to an air conditioned room, you can think of no better sensation on the planet and are temporarily stupefied by the sheer relief of it.

In short: it's hot down here! Are you hot? I'm HOT! It been so HOT out there! Whew! Did I mention--it's HOT!

Yah, I'm kind of a hot weather whiner. You probably didn't notice.

The S-Man and I had a lovely dinner last night with our friends, Julie and Scott at Max's, one of our favorite local eateries. Afterwards we stopped by Mentor House Gallery where we were lucky enough to find the proprietor home and graciously willing to open her gallery to a few tipsy loiterers. Luckier still, we got a tour of the private living space designed by Paulette Mentor. Oh my gosh. It is truly amazing. Original and imaginative, whimsical and lush, it is no wonder this space has been featured on one of my favorite channels: HGTV.

I personally continue to fall further in love as I work to refine my home office space. And, while I'm sure your average decorator could have come up with this idea while in a coma (and has), I'm loving my little "clothesline" of momentos, recently completed with the addition of an original print by Charlotte Erwin. Yah, it's supposed to be in my window framing project, but dang, how good does it look on my clothesline? I'm toying with the idea of stringing more clothesline and having more art/cards/momentos. I think it looks good, is easy to add to and, I'll just confess, I have an inordinate affection for clothespins which probably can be traced to my childhood when my Mom let me play with them while hanging clothes on the line.

Oop! Got to make a salad this minute...

Shopping and a Great Doc

After posting the other day about how I constantly occupy myself with projects of my own choosing, I decided to take myself out for fun and games. Having received a (very) small unexpected windfall check I headed over to Big Lots where I treated myself to a strange collection of odds and ends, mostly relating to my ever developing home work space.

I spent an inordinate amount of time lollygagging in the scrap booking aisle. Long time readers may recall that I possess a rogue crafting gene which often works to influence me to embark on projects to produce things that I would never EVER actually want to display in my home.

Anyway, I nearly succumbed to the siren song yesterday. Did you know there are hole punches that make holes in the shape of flowers? Triangles? Squares? Stars? Pinking scissors that leave the edges of your paper in all manner of exciting scallops? And stamps...oh, Lordy. I loves me some stamps.

In the end, I walked away, opting instead to feed the 13-yr-old girl that is still alive and well (and still in possession of firm shapely thighs) inside me by purchasing a paper covered satchel in a pastel blue stripe and flower in which to store my note cards and mailing supplies. Ah...the joys of organization. SO satisfying.

Later the S-Man and I watched "51 Birch Street". The film begins with documentary film maker, Doug Block, making routine videos of interviews with his elderly parents, Mike and Mina Block, married over 50 years. The story takes a turn, however, when Mina contracts pneumonia and dies suddenly leaving behind a stunned family, a lifetime of diaries chronicling her innermost thoughts, and a husband who remarries a scant three months later, leaving their confused son to question everything he ever thought about his parents and setting him on a quest for answers about their, as it turns out, complicated relationship.

For some, this might be considered boring subject matter, but for me it is the stuff of fascination. Why do people get married? Stay together? What is love? How happy can two people hope to be in a life long relationship? The story of the Block's marriage, ultimately recounted before the unflinching eye of the camera, is both routine and unique; heartbreaking and hopeful. I was spellbound.

View the trailer here.

Great Food, Great Project

We had dinner with friends Monica and Paul last night. And, while I knew Indian food was on the menu, I was not quite prepared for the feast of the senses that awaited us at their comfy kitchen island. Aromatic, tasty, and exotic are just a few of the adjectives that come to mind. Yes, all that and BREAD. Of the homemade variety. Then there was apple pie. Couple this extreme yumminess with wine and good conversation and we were lulled into such a stupor of satiation that we almost forgot to leave. Eventually we did though, they put a loaf of homemade sourdough in our hands and pointed us toward the house which is, luckily, within shouting (and easy walking) distance of theirs.

I'm not sure how to repay such extravagant hospitality, certainly nothing coming out of my kitchen would compare. But one thing is for sure, I know Monica and Paul would like you to be aware of this:

By the year 2010, there are expected to be over 20 million children orphaned by the AIDS pandemic.

In Kenya, there are over 600,000 AIDS orphans today. There is no government social welfare system to support these children nor is there access to free public education, soup kitchens or health care. In Kenya, one out of every three adults is HIV positive. There is more myth than education available to the general public regarding the transmission of AIDS.

One out of three. Ponder the ramifications of that statistic for a minute. This translates to an estimated 4.2 million orphans who will have lost their parents to AIDS by 2010 if current HIV infection rates do not decrease drastically. This means that every third child in Kenya will be an orphan.

Children who lose a parent to AIDS suffer the grief and confusion experienced by any orphan. However, their loss is often worsened by prejudice and social exclusion, including the loss of education, health care, even of the property they are entitled to inherit. The resulting poverty and isolation can create a vicious circle, placing them at greater risk of contracting HIV themselves.

In response to the growing crisis, with the help of Paul and Monica, Project AIDS Orphan, a non-profit coporation was formed to help address the needs of children impacted by the epidemic. The strategy of PAO is a simple one: to maintain children in the communities and villages in which they live rather than in an institutional setting. This is more cost efficient and less traumatic for a child already devastated by the loss of a parent.

Your tax deductible donation can make a huge difference to a child in need. Your check, made out to Project AIDS Orphan can be sent here. With your help, education needs are addressed as the PAO provides school fees, books and uniforms. Food, clothing, and shelter are provided with financial assistance to surviving family members. Because these children can stay within their family, or at the least clan or tribe, the project helps to maintain a consistent sense of nurturing and spiritual well being for the child. The PAO site now also features a blog, so you stay up to date on the progress of the important work your funding can help support.

I am mailing my check today. Maybe you will too?

It's Wednesday...already?

Okay, time is just flying by way too fast for me. I had envisioned this time off work as leisurely and lazy with looooong stretches of delicious uncommitted time laying itself at my feet in an endless, yummy ribbon. Instead, there just seems to be always something to do. Although I'll have to admit it is positively FABULOUS not to be the alarm clock's b!tch. And it is also true that my time is way more often than not filled with the projects of MY OWN choosing. Which is pretty huge.

The yard sale process, while certainly painful and, above all, embarassing, has had a huge impact on my ability to arrange my own personal space. My closets are so much more neogtiable than before. The treasures we were unable to part with, I am determined now to enjoy on a daily basis.

The S-Man could not let go of the vintage fan at the top of this post, so I retrieved it from its dusty storage space and, with my Dad's help, cleaned it up and gave it a proper home on the living room mantle. It still actually works, by the way. It probably looked way more like this when it was new, although the model we have is considerably larger than the 12" desk fan pictured there. Seeing that picture makes me want to completely restore our fan. I am surprised to learn there were electric fans as early as 1908. I can tell you that our fan is incredibly heavy. I can lift it, but just barely.

Also in the can't-let-go category for the S-Man was a vintage manual "noiseless" Underwood typewriter. This typwriter would have originally come with a groovy carrying case, but alas, we just have the machine itself, which is actually pretty cool. I'm old enough to have learned to type on a manual typewriter, but not one as ancient as this which comes to us from the 1930's pre-dating not only me, but my parents as well. The typewriter has officially found a new home in a display case at the top of our stairs where we now walk by regularly.

I have also found the time to rearrange my office space in the guest room giving me twice as much work surface (by adding another table) and way more file storage space (the cool rolling metal file holder with a handy shelf below to the far right was a gift from my friend, Christina) which should (should, mind you) make me tons more efficient and organized in the very near future. Right now, this space is my very own personal slice of heaven and continues to be a work in progress.

Lastly, I have also rescued this window, one of the many original windows that we removed from the house during the renovation process. I'm planning to clean and scrape the glass (leaving the paint as is) and then use it to frame some fabulous original calendar prints from various Lowertown artists that have been stored away and and oh-so-very-wrongly unenjoyed for several years. I'll post a photo of that project when it is complete.

And speaking of all things vintage, I have jumped on the Mad Men bandwagon. I read this post just a few days before having lunch with my friend Jill, who also urged me to tune in. If you aren't watching already, you guys have to see this show. Set in the early 1960's in NYC, the show gets its name from "Mad"ison Avenue, hub of the advertising world, and centers on a group of advertising execs. I can't get enough of this bawdy bunch constantly smoking and drinking their way through the fascinating era of my early childhood. From the fabulous folks at the AMC channel, you can view this show On Demand for free and catch up by Thursday night when new episodes air. See the sexy preview here.

Ready for School

Chase's laptop came today, and there was much rejoicing. With the first day of fall semester exactly a week away, the timing couldn't be better.

I, of course, was immediately ready to take the computer to some smart computer person, hand it over, and ask them to do whatever needs to be done to it to get it ready for action. Chase, on the other hand, showed up picked up the computer, and was ready to walk out the door with it a few minutes later.

"WAIT!", I said.

"What?", he said.

"Don't we need to do something to it? You know, some sort of technical thing?"

"You just load up the disc , Mom. It's really easy."

So, yah. The computer is gone. I hope it all works out for the best.

In other news, those of you who are aware of my fish problem, might be interested to learn that I now bear not only the psychological scars of sharing my home with the heinous thing, but I now have also experienced physical injury as well. I was walking by the other day when my ankle glanced off one of the many, as it turns out razor sharp, protruding petrified gills. This resulted in a cut so deep that it actually drew blood.

The nightmare continues.

Sing it with me!

Nah-nah-nah-nah...

Nah-nah-nah-nah...

Hey, hey, hey!...

Design Star Season Two, Challenge Three and the RSS SOS

It was the individual challenge showdown tonight on Design Star.

(SPOILERS AHEAD!)

Each designer had an identical blank three walled room which to decorate containing a generic couch, two end tables, a coffee table, lamp, ottoman and bookcase. The budget was $399, the catch was that, with the exception of two gallons of the paint of the designer's choice, the budget had to be spent at the Dollar Store. The rooms did not have to be practical, just well designed.

Not suprisingly, the winner of this challenge by at least a mile if not more, was iron man Todd Davis. His room, which he called, "High Tide Barrell" was a brilliant and inventive portrayal of an ocean wave overtaking the items in the room. I can't say enough about how clever and original this design is, so I'll just go ahead on and post a photo:

There you go. If that isn't the room of a design star, I don't know what is. MeOW.

Coming in second, third, fourth, and fifth were designers Christina Ray, Will Smith, Kim Myles and, damnit, the annoying RobB Mariani. I was happy to see Kim finally prove herself since she seemed to have just sort of blended in on the other challenge and then damn near got axed because of her involvement in the Neeraja tile debacle.

The final three designers, heads on the block were: Scott Corridan, Adriana, and ohmygosh, SPARKLE JOSH. SJ's room, "Celebuteen" was judged too sparkly, with too much going on. See for yourself:

Vern Yip was more forgiving than the other two judges and gave Josh credit for the candle sconces (on the left wall).

Next, Scott Corridan. Ya'll. Poor Scott. I really do think he is a good designer. But his room tonight? Looked like the Dollar Store threw up in it:

I mean, WTF? Seriously. Buh-bye, Scott. Thing is, I really do think this room would have been in the running if he had edited out about three-fourths of that unending kitsch. The paint job is really interesting (and approved of by the judges) and the color choices are very good.

Lastly, Adriana. Her room was just plain old boring. I have suspected all along she didn't have the right stuff, and tonight was her Waterloo.

Meanwhile, the show ended with Sparkle Josh promising to, "bring back the sparkle."

Let's hope so.

(You can see photos of all the rooms and get even more information here. SFW)

***

And now for something completely different...

If you're like me, you keep reading on the web about RSS Feeds. And when I read about that I think,

Self, you seriously need to figure out what an RSS feed is.

And then I remember I forgot to Swiffer dust my mantle.

Luckily, my good friends at Netflix posted a video that explains the whole ding dang thing. See it here.

100 Website You Should Know

From the smart folks at TED, check out their top picks for a hundred websites you should know and use. Bet you find at least two new favorites. Find them here. (SFW)

Busy in Bizzyville

Like, OHMYGOD! I totally missed a day posting! Bummer!

Okay, I'll stop the La Lohan talk. But seriously, I did miss a whole day posting, something that hasn't happened since I was miserably employed. The truth is, I somehow am now busier than I was when I had a job.

I know. What is UP with that?

Plus, my Dad and company is in for a visit and this can only mean one thing. The copious consumption of adult beverages. Which, as you may recall, I have suddenly developed zero tolerance for, meaning after about two of said beverages, I'm walking into walls, singing karaoke, and forgetting what day it is.

So, it wasn't long into last night's festivities at my kitchen table before everyone's attention was naturally drawn to this:

What is that you ask? Well, I wasn't going to mention it, but SATAN BOUGHT THAT. Yes! Paid money! For an ancient shellacked fish with a bayonet for a nose. This is an affront to my taste so henious, so unimaginable, SO REPULSIVE that I have been unable to even JOKE about it up until now.

Even at this minute, I'm not sure how funny it is considering we JUST HAD A YARD SALE during which we pawned off all our unwanted crap on our unsuspecting neighbors, and the next day...THE. NEXT. DAY. Satan has the nerve to enter my house carrying that monstrosity like a trophy. For once, I was rendered completely speechless with horror. Me. Speechless. In case you can't tell? The thing is probably five feet long nose to tail.

So, yah, we spent a considerable amount of time last night deliberating on what we should do with the fish. Personally? I was all for spiking the thing, nose first, into the front yard for Satan to find when he returns (he's momentarily out of town). There was talk of my guests taking the fish home with them by installing a small wheel on the tail of the fish and towing it the 250 miles back to central Illinois. What would they do with it when they got there? Say it with me: WHO CARES? Lastly, we discussed suspending it from the roof and then, in our inebriated state, we wandered off and forgot about it.

So yah, the fish is still in my living room.

I'm thrilled.

Evening

This week's film at Maiden Alley Cinema certainly looks to be an interesting one. Here's the description at the MAC website:

"Evening is a deeply emotional film that illuminates the timeless love which binds mother and daughter -- seen through the prism of one mother's life as it crests with optimism, navigates a turning point, and ebbs to its close. Two pairs of real-life mothers and daughters -- Vanessa Redgrave and Natasha Richardson, and Meryl Streep and Mamie Gummer -- portray, respectively, a mother and her daughter and the mother's best friend at different stages in life. Overcome by the power of memory, Ann Lord (Vanessa Redgrave) reveals a long-held secret to her concerned daughters; Constance (Natasha Richardson), a content wife and mother, and Nina (Toni Collette), a restless single woman. Both are bedside when Ann calls out for the man she loved more than any other. But who is this "Harris," wonder her daughters, and what is he to our mother? While Constance and Nina try to take stock of Ann's life and their own lives, their mother is tended to by a night nurse (Eileen Atkins) as she journeys in her mind back to a summer weekend some fifty years before, when she was Ann Grant (Claire Danes), a young woman who has come from New York City to be maid of honor at the high-society Newport wedding of her dearest friend from college, Lila Wittenborn (Mamie Gummer). The bride-to-be is jittery, and turns to her maid of honor rather than her own mother (Glenn Close) for support. Ann stays close to her friend, yet is even closer to Lila's irrepressible brother Buddy (Hugh Dancy). Unexpected feelings surge forth once Ann meets wedding guest Harris Arden (Patrick Wilson), a lifelong friend and intimate of the Wittenborn family. Ann's love for Harris will change her life, and those of her daughters, forever. "

A list of gifted actors this long in any one production is the subject of an ongoing gag of mine and the S-Man's. Our theory is that too many big names is the kiss of death for any film. Maybe this one will be the exception. I'm certainly intrigued to see two pairs of real-life mother and daughters as well as one of my all time favorites, Claire Danes, even if she does seem to have acquired a whole new face along the way.

Alas, the kiss-of-death theory might hold true once again. I've now done a little checking, and the Rotten Tomatoes site has the film coming in 72% rotten and according to Roger Ebert:

There are few things more depressing than a weeper that doesn't make you weep. "Evening" creeps through its dolorous paces as prudently as an undertaker. Upstairs, in the big newport mansion, a woman is dying in a Martha Stewart bedroom. She takes a very long time to die, because the whole movie consists of flashbacks from her reveries. This gives us time to reflect on deep issues, such as, who is this woman?

(I can't help it, I love a good snarky review.)

Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.

FREE for the taking!

Well, they aren't pretty, but all that furniture you see: two weather beaten dinette tables which were once red, a cannonball bed, and a dresser barely holding it together long enough to remain upright, can be yours for nothing. They are currently in my driveway off the alley. You'll have to beat the Salvation Army truck, though, which is reportedly coming this afternoon.

In Which I Pimp My Own Self Out For a Job and Dis Lindsay Lohan

You'll be happy to know that I am only drinking iced tea rather than whatever I was drinking when I wrote that drunken, disjointed, all-over-the-road post about several unrelated things not too long ago. I am drinking iced tea this early in the morning (read: pre-eight o'clock) because the heat in these parts is stultifying. You walk out the door and it immediately renders you witless. I, personally, turn an alarming shade of pink. Because I am sensitive. They are scrolling bullitens across the TV screen during Dr. Phil. They say something like: It is super hot out there! Beware!

Poor FurGirl. She is not cut out for this kind of weather. When I let her out for her morning pee-pees, she's gone just long enough to get relief and then she's right back on the porch fogging up the french door with her franting panting. When I let her in she gives me the,

"What were you DEAD? I've been waiting a good FIVE MINUTES for your lazy a**".

Then she drags in, collapses on the floor in a boneless heap, not sleeping mind you, but rather just staring miserably off into space martyr-style. Enduring. When I pass by, if she has the strength, she gives me the look that says: I'm too furry for this sh*t.

Myself, I've taken on a gallery project and have also begun a job search. How would YOU like to hire me?! My resume is very pretty and I am oh-so-qualified for so very many things!! E-mail me if you'd like to peruse the res. for your very own self.

I am open to almost anything, although it would be great if I could do something creative or at least something in which I could be creative sometimes. Obviously I'm a writer and I have a frightening amount of work experience in a wide variety of stuff like: event coordination, organizational challenges, human resources, organizational communication, banking, city government, performing arts, original ideas, benefit coordination, program administration, brassiere advice, OSHA, COBRA, FMLA, and plenty of other scary acronyms.

An added bonus: I am a vicious multi-tasker. For instance, at this moment, I am drinking iced tea, learning how to craft a toy wooden boat (from HGTV), writing this here blog post, periodically checking two e-mail accounts, fielding calls relating to my gallery project, and reconfiguring my Netflix queue.

So, yah, e-mail me for more information. I want to stop all this silliness and focus on you and your work related problems. All the day long. By the way, have you lost weight? Because you look fantastic.

Meanwhile, I just have to comment on the newest issue of Elle Magazine. That's it over there to the left, featuring the ever troubled La-Lohan front and center. And if you were here in person? I would immediately morph into valley girl dialect (which, by the way, I am quite good at, just another of my mad skillz) and give you this monologue:

Like, OHmygod! I am, like, SUPER depressed! Because, I am, like, totally young and, like beautiful, and rich and famous, and bitchin', and life is, like, SUPER hard! I totally have issues. I, like, need to escape from it by, like, doing really expensive blow and wearing other people's jeans and stalking them while I'm, like, totally f*cked up behind the wheel of my super nice car! Because, I am, like, completely depressed...for sure! Did I mention that? OHmygod, it is just, like, a total bummer! My shrink is, like, totally super worried about me.

How pissed have the guys at Elle got to be about her immediately returning to rehab, when they've signed on, essentially, to do her come-back cover. Ouch. In case you can't make it out, the tag line on the cover says:

Exclusive! The Lindsay Lohan Interview "I'm glad I went to rehab. I needed to get away from everyone and I didn't know how."

Poor Linds. Evidently, she evidently forgot again how to get away from everyone (I, myself, find myself forgetting how to get away from people all the time. Don't you?). Since she went back to rehab again, like, what? Yesterday? The day before?

On the other hand, is the yummy color of that dress to DIE for or what? (I'm looking at you, Jeanna.)

Scary Carrie

I don't know about you, but I think the SJP commercial launching her new fragrance "Covet" makes her look like a serious bunny boiler rather than a sexy siren the masses want to emulate olfactorily.

Maybe it's just me.

The Hootie Call...

As you may or may not know, Hootie and the Blowfish will be appearing at the Carson Center on August 14th. Intrepid blogger girl, Mary Thorsby, will be interviewing the band.

Now is your chance to get that burning Hootie question you've always wondered about answered, since Mary is taking your suggestions for queries to put to the group. Leave your question in the comment section of Mary's post.

My Own Life: The Recap

Okay, so, I'm back! Discussing my very own life instead of some TV show!

Hi!

Unfortunately, I am also drunk which you are also going to have to bear up with.

So, the S-Man took me out to celebrate the double toothpick anniversary. We would have celebrated sooner, but we were having a hellacious yard sale (you may have heard). As we do most anniversaries, we toasted each other's incredible stamina to endure this difficult union. Also, we discussed the possibility of ending this torture. I'm at least sixty-two percent sure we're staying together. I can't be certain, however, since the Reisling purchased by benevolent benefactors across the way, Jeannie and Harvey, was mighty tasty. And there are blank spots.

The yard sale was a success, I guess, in the way that we are a) All still alive and b) Still speaking to each other and c) In posession of a large wad of cash we would have not otherwise enjoyed. The sale began at around 7:30 when we untied the junkyard dog we procured to guard our spread out crust-covered treasures (don't you just love having us in the neighborhood?) because we are not, ourselves, early risers. The sale went on until around noon when everybody lost the ability to breathe and speak and also move in temperatures past ninety-five degrees.

I'm happy to report many of our neighbors supported us out of pure southern hospitality mingled with pity and, let's be honest, a touch of fear. Because--did I mention? We had alot of stuff. That you would never, EVER need. Nevertheless, we were happy to see our friends, whatever their motivation, and merchandise was moved. The fabulous Charlotte Erwin came away with the much coveted star spangled denim jacket, and I think we'll be seeing more of it at performances of the Lowertown Ensemble. I'd say their names, but I can't think of it. I'm doing that drunk thing wherein your try to snap your fingers? And then they just won't snap, but just sort of rub together ineffectually....WAIT! "The Relocators" That's it, yah!

Okay, moving on.

After that it was time to celebrate a very special birthday. This meant a trip to my Grandmama's house and the forced eating of cake and ice cream. I endured this like the trooper that I am.

The story of when Maw-Maw's house burned down was recounted. I had forgotten this was one of the very first stories my mother ever told me. How, in February of 1952, she awoke from a dead sleep at her grandmother's house to find one entire wall consumed with flames and the whole house on fire. How her little (three-year-old) brother's sore throat and his on-again, off-again, desire for drinks of water may have saved their lives, causing them all to sleep a little lighter and thus remaining semi-conscious enough to eventually realize the house was aflame.

Mom told the story again. How she awakened to the sound of her grandmother's voice at the foot of the bed calling her grandfather's name, "Eddie...EDDIE!" Mom told again how they ran through the living room, the vinyl unbearably hot beneath their bare feet and how, just as they were almost out the front door to safety, that flaming wall collapsed, singeing off the back my grandmother's hair.

Mom would have been twelve years old in February of 1952. I had always imagined her running toward the door in the flaming house, her waist length (was it still waist length) hair streaming behind her, her grandmother on her heels barely escaping death from the flaming wall. I had always imagined, however, that Maw-Maw had Mom's three-year-old brother, Tim, in her arms.

But on Sunday, for the first time, I asked, "Who carried Tim?".

"I did", Mama said.

And so, I had to revise the whole mental memory. Mom, not alone, but clutching her little brother and running for the door. Mom who was only a child herself, saving her little brother. Of course she would. Automatically. And I thought, wow, what must it be like to have a big sister? A big sister who scoops you up when the house is on fire and runs with you in her arms to safety?

And I remembered the verse on a card I keep on my dresser:

This fleeting world

is like a star at dawn,

a bubble in a stream,

a flash of lightening

in a summer cloud,

a flickering lamp,

a phantom, and a dream...

And I remembered to remember what a miracle it is that any of us are here and to appreciate each and every day for the wonder that it truly is.

Because, really. What are the chances?

Design Star Season Two, Challenge Two: Dueling Kitchens

[I'm not quite sure why I feel the need to recap Design Star episodes. It's not like I've been hired by the show to do so (PLEASE NOTE I AM AVAILABLE, DESIGN STAR!). I hope you'll bear with me thru this obsession. Mean time, I recommend you watch for yourself--this is some seriously great reality TV going on here.]

It was a super emotional episode of Design Star last night.

The challenge was simple. Two random designers were chosen to act as team captains for two suburban kitchen redesigns (the homes had adjoining back yards). The budget was $10,000/each team. At the end of the challenge, two designers would be eliminated. Captains turned out to be Neeraja and Granola Josh. From there, the captains chose, elementary school kickball style, one by one, their team members. They broke down like this:

Neeraja’s Team:
Sparkle Josh(!)
Scott Corridan
Kim Myles
Adrianna

Granola Josh’s team:
Todd Davis
Will Smith
Christina Ray
RobB Mariana

The designer enduring the embarrassing position of last choice was no surprise. RobB Mariani was described as “difficult” by Captain Neeraja. Clearly embarrassed by his last pick status, Mariani remarked on how tough it is to “eat humble pie” on national television in an individual interview.

In typical pithy style, Sparkle Josh described the teams facing off as Paul Bunyon (Granola Josh’s team) vs. Paula Abdul (Neeraja’s team). My man Josh has a serious gift for the sound byte and continues to be irresistibly charming any time the camera is pointed his way. I find myself wanting to pinch his sweet little cheeks, and he continues to be my favorite designer.

Complicating this challenge was the fact that designer Scott Corridan threw out his back. This necessitated a doctor visit to the penthouse. Scott was injected with some major pain killing meds. An emotional Scott later said in an individual interview how grateful he was for the medical treatment (he wasn’t able to get out of bed) and then was moved to tears again when Neeraja chose him early for her team despite his uncertain physical condition. (He made it thru the challenge with no further major incidents back-wise).

I’m increasingly worried, however, about the serious threat posed by Todd Davis. Todd didn’t break a sweat last challenge building both a table and quarter pipe skate boarding ramp in the penthouse challenge. Not only that, I can’t stop visiting his website. For reasons unknown, I love the soothing underwater quality of the thing and his original paintings are very appealing as well. In this week’s episode, despite Granola Josh’s designation as team captain, there was no question that Todd began leading the team from the first second they were on site.

The kitchens at the center of the challenge were unremarkable and drab. Both teams dug in with gusto. G-Josh’s team decided to go for a Tuscan style kitchen and dining area while Neeraja’s team opted for a wine themed design.

G-Josh’s team made serious progress early on, while Neeraja’s team was stymied by their decision (driven by Neeraja) to tile the entire kitchen counter top. It was ultimately this decision that proved to be fatal. The time to procure and complete the job was seriously under estimated and the team made the inexcusable faux pas of leaving the job essentially incomplete with the tile being poorly installed and totally un-grouted.

Winner of this challenge was: SPARKLE JOSH JOHNSON whose stellar shopping skills were the saving grace of the debacle that was Team Neeraja’s kitchen. On a limited budget, Josh put together a smashing dining room table and chairs, sexy floor to ceiling mirror, and yummy window treatments. My man Josh barely broke a sweat himself shopping for these important pieces, even managing to have time to primp in a showroom mirror and drawling on the way out of the store, “I do this all the time back home. Seriously.” Check out Josh's winning choices:

Coming in second on this challenge was iron man Todd Davis.

Not the least bit surprisingly, Neeraja was eliminated right off the bat for leaving a job incomplete. Vern Yip was nearly speechless w/indignation at this outcome. Design Star was forced to hire independent contractors to complete the tile job.

Three other heads ended up on the block: Obnoxious RobB for a drastically tragic crackle paint finish job on the so-called Tuscan redesign, Granola Josh for his non-existent leadership skills and failure to contribute almost anything to the team he was tapped to manage, and Kim Myles for her participation in the tile debacle.

Ultimately, Granola Josh’s show was cancelled. Another fair decision, I think. While billing himself as the “green” designer, Granola Josh was ultimately just plain old beige.

You can see all the before and after photos here.(SFW)

Coming up next week: the designers will be on their own creating a room each with supplies that look to be coming from the dollar store. Two will be eliminated.

What's Up w/William Sledd (and come to my yard sale).

Hey! I am up posting in the wee small hours of Saturday morning, because I know once dawn breaks across the Ohio River? I'm going to be ass deep in my craptacular yard sale. So, if you're sitting at your computer right now, and it's Saturday morning, and you're all, "What will I do today?" Wonder no more. Drag a comb across your head. Grab all your cash. Come to my yard sale.

I'm not exagerrating when I say there truly is something for everyone. We have THREE VHS players. VHS movies (one zillion). Books. A DVD player. Flatware. Coffee grinders. A shop vac. A kitty carrier. Dishes. Ties. Jeans, jeans...JEANS. Car stereos. Fans. Tools (one zillion).

I'm stopping now...NO MORE! Talk of the yard sale. Just get on over here.

Now, on to the subject at hand. William. I know I've hooked several of you on this up and coming local cutie-pie. Surfing around tonight, I ran across one of his latest videos all of which are now all posted pre-YouTube at Outzone.com.

An interesting aside: William's hair seems to be creeping toward ever more drastically asymetrical (not that there's anything wrong with that). In this video, William waxes poetic about the merits of the Man Bag (as I like to say) or "Murse" (combo man/purse) as William likes to say. According to William, be they gay, straight, or bi-sexual, every man needs a man purse this fall. See the video here.

Also, in case you're unaware, William has a piece in Glamour magazine's August issue he does "Denim Does and Don'ts" appropriately enough. Check it out here.

And, although I've heard that William's show is to premiere on Bravo this month, I don't see him on the schedule anywhere at the website.

Lastly, you can always keep tabs on William for yourself, of course, at his website here.

TTFN, friends. Here's hoping I survive the yard sale from hell to blog another day...

CRAPTACULAR YARD SALE! Saturday, August 4, 2007

Have you ever seen a star spangled denim jacket like this? No? Well, I've got good news for you. NOT ONLY can you see it at my house (back yard off the alley) tomorrow, August 4 from 8:00 a.m. until I die of humiliation, you can purchase it FOR YOUR VERY OWN SELF for a mere fifty cents. Yes, you read that right. Fifty cents.

You guessed it, I'm having the yard sale that has haunted my nightmares for years. The long-threatened clearing out of the semi truck and barn is HAPPENING THIS WEEKEND. Here is just a partial list of crap we've got:

Tools

Garden Tools

Gardening Stuff

Clothes

Camping Equipment

Full-Sized Electric Stove

Books

Housewares

Sporting Equipment

Lawnmower

Furniture

Stuff that We Cannot Identify

Did I forget anything? Because, trust me, we've got it all. And for mere pennies on the dollar. So bring all your extra cash and meet the S-Man and all his wives live and in person at the biggest yard sale event of the summer! (You know you want to.).

Here's a few photos of our exciting merchandise and, believe me, we're barely getting started putting it out there:

See? He's already in a bad mood...there's likely to be trouble! NO extra charge for the drama!

Anonymous Smear Job

An alert reader clued me in that, as it happens, our local newspaper, The Paducah Sun, ran an editorial today entitled “Smear Job” in response to Anna Quindlen’s piece, “How Much Jail Time” I commented on and featured in my last post.

The Sun editorial is highly critical of Quindlen’s piece and states, among other things,

“Quindlen says pro-lifers have a hidden agenda to imprison women who have abortions; it’s so hidden, in fact, the pro-lifers themselves don’t even know it yet.”

The trouble with that statement is that Quindlen doesn’t say pro-lifers have a hidden agenda to imprison women who have abortions unknowlingly or otherwise. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Again, I encourage you to read the Quindlen piece for yourself. You can find it HERE.

How Much Jail Time?

The abortion controversy has raged on for so long in this country that it's hard to believe someone could actually make a new point.

But they have.

Anna Quindlen's latest latest op-ed piece: "How Much Jail Time" (Newsweek, August 6, 2007) points to this video taken outside a Libertyville, IL abortion clinic. Filmakers ask this question of anti-abortion activists demonstrating outside the clinic: If having an abortion should be illegal, what should the penalty be for the women who choose undergo the procedure anyway?

I'll tell you in advance, nobody has a good answer. Possibly the best argument yet for why women should control their own reproductive destiny.

Read Quindlen's piece here.

Double Toothpicks

Well, folks, it’s that time of year again. Mine and the S-Man’s wedding anniversary. Eleven years of wedded bliss today. Yes, eleven long years since we stood in the swampy home office of Justice-of-the-Peace and tax preparer Mr. Conger, and alternately giggled (both of us) and sobbed (just me) our way through our vows. I would post a picture of the event here, but by mutual agreement we’ve made sure there was no visual record of the incident.

Long time readers will recall that, on our tenth anniversary, it took me almost as many days of near constant public whining in this blog to move my loving husband to purchase me a proper gift in exchange for a decade of weathering this stormy union. Eventually though, he caught on and a proper gift was given. While he may be distracted, the S-Man isn’t stupid.

Which leads us to today’s order of business. I’ll admit, I was caught a bit unawares by this particular anniversary. Since it’s not a milestone, I didn’t realize it was upon us until I was reminded by the most unlikely of sources. Satan himself. As we checked out at Kroger yesterday and he was writing the check we had this exchange:

SATAN
(writing the check)
Well. You know what today is, don’t you?

ME

Yah. August first.

SATAN
Isn’t this….?

ME
Right…our anniversary! No, but almost. Now that you mention it, it’s tomorrow.

SATAN
Isn’t it today?

ME

(to the cashier)
What did you say the date was again?

CASHIER
The first.

ME
(turning to Satan)

Yah. It’s tomorrow.

So, I guess you have some elaborate romantic surprise arranged for me?

SATAN
How many years is it now?

ME
(not responding)

SATAN
Fifty?

ME
Funny.

SATAN
Seventy-five?

CASHIER & GROCERY BAGGER BOY

(giggling)

ME
Double toothpicks. As in H-E-double toothpicks?

SATAN
You can say that again.

ME
Ain’t it the truth.

Ah, yes. Hopeless romantics, the both of us. But, seriously, the S-Man does tend to (occasionally) take a (much needed) beating in this here online forum of mine. And so today on a very special hellacious double-toothpick anniversary, I am going to list the Top Five Great Things About Being Married to Satan. It would be a Top Ten List, but come on, we’re talking about Satan here.

Here goes:

#5 Holy crap, is the S-Man ever handy! This is a guy who can fix anything. Anything. Never under estimate the power of a handy man, girls.

#4 The S-Man is incredibly well read. What good does this do me you ask? It just makes me feel better. A lot better.

#3 The S-Man is smart. Really smart. (This is also, unfortunately, number three on the top five worst things about being married to Satan.)

#2 He makes me laugh.

#1 When the going gets tough? The S-Man is not a flincher. And while this doesn’t exactly help on a day-to-day basis? There’s just no substitute for this quality at those times when a girl really needs it. Like, say, when she quits her high paying job and then proceeds to write in her blog all day.

Breathlessly yours...

Good Lord, today has been so exciting I don't even know where to start. Okay. Let's see...

First? Congratulations to Bizzyville reader, Janice, who has won a super cool Vampire Squid tee-shirt for her very own self.

Next, got an e-mail from intrepid blogger girl, Mary Thorsby, who is featured in the Murray Leacherous Times (okay, so it's the Murray Ledger and Times) in this story by columnist and WKMS contributor, Constance Alexander which just happens to also contain a shout-out to this here site.

Next, an alert reader brought me up to speed on this sad news about Matt Roloff. Thought you'd want to know.

Back to the up-side, got a message from my good friend, Daphne Zuniga, in response to a message I'd sent to her giving her kudos for her fantastic and important work on the film, "TED: The Future We Will Create". According to Zuniga, "We're now finishing a deal with Showtime for tv airing, and another deal for dvd sales later this year, as well as foreign distribution." I'm thrilled to hear this excellent documentary will be reaching an even wider audience. For those of you not in the know, you can read my (completely ga-ga) blog post on the film here.

I managed to break away from the computer for an insanely long stretch of time today. Among my many errands was a very naughty trip to Victoria's Secret. Yah. Y'all know that superfantastic foundation garments are my crack cocaine. However, today, I swear, I was just going to do a walk-thru considering my unemployed state and all. Maybe....maybe I'll buy a boy panty, I says. But only if they're on sale, I says. Scout's honor, I says!

Alas, though, it was not to be. VS is premiering their newest marvel of mammarial engineering: the full coverage push-up bra.

And, I'm not exagerrating when I say it was a feeding frenzy at the display area where the shiney new brassiers were arranged for perusal and purchase. There were women at least five deep clustered around the case ready to do battle for one of the coveted new titslings. One young mother was actually using her strollered toddler to force her way through the throng and maneuver closer to her cup size. The sickening sweet scent of panicky estrogen filled the air. This could only mean one thing: Damnit! I have to have that bra.

And, of course, I got it. Because I am completely unmoved by your little toddler scam, honey. That shit might work at Limited Too? But not at Victoria's Secret. You better be bringing your A-game if you think you're buying my full coverage push-up bra.

I was excited to read here that my friend Christa was recognized as the result of a recent post that featured her. Just another reason I think she is a natural celebrity and needs to get on with trying out for American Idol. THIS MINUTE.

Lastly, self-proclaimed fancy-pants author Robert Rummel-Hudson commented on my blog post on his new book. The perfect ending to a bloggerific day.

World's Coolest Tee-Shirt Give-Away

I was delighted to discover recently that the band with the coolest tee-shirt design ever is none other than my own stepson Matt's band, Vampire Squid. Delighted, but not surprised. Along with being a fantastic vocalist and all around rockin' dude, Matt is one of my very favorite people in the world.

You can learn more about the band, which is based in Louisville, and listen to a sample of their music which they describe as "Nu-Jazz Experimental Metal" (a pretty fair assessment, I'd say) here (NOISE). This is very avante-guarde stuff.

So, yes of course, Matt's band would have a seriously groovy tee-shirt. I personally can't stop wearing mine. Here is the front:

And then on the the other side, underwater hot girl wraps around the side and is visible on the back along with the VS logo:

Be the first person to e-mail me with I LOVE YOUR BLOG in the subject line and of course a mailing address or msg if I already know you and get a FREE Vampire Squid Tee-Shirt (size L) of your very own!

Also, be sure to add these upcoming Vampire Squid play dates to your calendar:

August 5, 2007, 5:00 p.m. Phoenix Hill Tavern, Louisville, KY. Details here.

August 11, 2007, 10:00 p.m., Rudyard Kipling, Louisville, KY. Details here.