Getting In Under the Wire

Right back around the halfway mark of nablopomo NCH at Wannabe Urban Housewife did a very cool thing. She got tagged for a meme and instead of tagging people she knew she randomly tagged 7 people from the NaBloPoMo entrants and I was one of them. I suspect but cannot confirm that she used the ever-cool randomiser. I have to admit being intimidated by the meme but I really want to do it so I'm going to (finally) just jump in. I love the spirit of randomising the tags, too, so that's what I'll do at the end.

Rules:
1- Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2- Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
3- Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
4- Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I would love to go to the Museum of Science in Boston but I'm scared of the 2 story T-Rex whose roaring teeth face the escalator, just a little too close for comfort.
2. I recently watched Dreamgirls for the first time and (spoiler alert!) when the "family" convinces Effie to stay on even though she's being replaced as the front woman because she's fat, despite the fact that she's got by far the best voice, I cried.
3. There are 2 little kids' jokes that I told over and over in HS because they made me giddy with laughter every time. The first one is "How does an elephant hide in a cherry tree?" "I don't know, how?" "He paints his toes red. Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree?" "No" "See? It works." The other one is a similar sort of play on words and its about a rabbit/hare and I haven't been able to remember it for years. That makes me sad. If anyone remembers that stupid joke I used to tell too much I'd love to have it back again.
4. Also in HS when I was a in marching band a new kid was giving me a hard time and used the phrase "playing the skin flute" and I didn't know what that was and I'm still embarrassed when I think about it.
5. I used to have a 4 octave singing range.
6. I have listened to Savion Glover pee. I had to. It ended up being part of my job.
7. I once got a friend to sneak me into the newsroom at the WB11 here in NYC for the morning news when Joshua Jackson was being interviewed. I was too shy to go up and introduce myself.

I'm tagging the following folk thanks to the randomizer:
phobiamom
Kitty at New York Portraits
Laurie at Everything Human Resources
Jenn at Jenn's Den
Clara at Clara's Part of the World
Nicole at Nicole's Daily Photo (maybe she'll do the meme in pictures, that'd be cool)
Cynara Jane

Dad Will Love This

On our way back from delivering meals on Thanksgiving we strolled a side street lined with buses. This one says on the right "Concord Band Bus #1" and on the left "Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade".

No band I was ever part of went to anything this fancy but I rode on plenty of band buses. Not nearly as many, though, as my dad who has run many a band and drum corps in his time. The last one, I think, was for the NYC St. Patrick's Day Parade and I chaperoned the lower brass and drum line for him in a downpour. Good times. No, actually they were.

It wasn't until I was already setting up this shot that I realized the driver was still in the bus. Thank you, sir, for not leaping out of the bus and telling me off!

Bette Midler Tune

I promise that at some point soon I will have room in my brain to think of something other than the train tracks on my head and will be able to talk about something else. However, today is not that day. Also, until that time please use big words. The small words fall right out of that gaping hole in my noggin so put all that old SAT prep to good use!

Tonight, poor Pony Express called. She had a couple of things that she really wanted to do but she wanted to make sure that she didn't need to come home first and keep me from wasting away. She didn't and all thanks to some other wonderful friends.

Despite Kath's being under general anesthesia today for her nose she beat me to checking in and called me first. We exchanged photos of our faces and she told me she'd come over, bring ice cream and change my bandage for me if I needed it. Oh and bring meds because she's pissed I wasn't given good pain management.

Not 20 minutes after we got off the phone my phone rang again. It was the president of PUPS who happens to be a local hospital administrator. Kath had forwarded her the picture of my foreroad (railhead? frailroad?) and she wanted to help and to get more info.

Together they brought ice cream, meds, gave me medicating advice, changed my bandage, taught me that part of the pain is from the tape being too tight, brought me arnica pills from a third friend, took my dog on a very long walk with a beloved dog friend, assured me that the wound looked clean and good (and much better than the picture from last night), also assured me that being denied meds for intense short term pain was stupid and brought reassurance on many of those subjects from medical professionals. Then they sat with me and chatted for a bit. Oh and we took photos of me and Kath together in all of our broken glory.

People sometimes say to me, "I don't see how people have dogs in the city." I don't see how they don't. I know both of these women through doggie connections and through them I have connections to literature, publishing, medicine, community service, government, the parks department and a bunch of other things. How many times do you send a friend a picture of a wound, and she sends it to another friend and in 20 minutes you have a second (and third!) professional medical opinion?

I'm rambling. It's the v1cod1n and the red wine (just a little to "get the vike started"). And the pain.

What I'm getting at is, friends = good. So good. And because they are good I feel much better mentally and emotionally and am ready to fight the good fight with the doc tomorrow when I insist on (as opposed to beg for) proper pain management. Healing can't happen without proper pain management.

So, just checking in. I'm doing OK. I've been reading around the blogosphere today but I'm still quite behind. Congratulations to all you NaBloPoMo-ers, tomorrow marks the end of this round, how are you feeling?

I'm Sending This Day to Bed Without Supper

Lots of pain. Got a prescription for 3 V1c0d1n. 3. Which won't actually cover the hours between now and when I can get in to see the doc tomorrow. Awesome.

Do I look like a drug seeker to you? Everyone I know gets pain killers at the drop of a hat. If they aren't offered they are requested and received. Me? I apparently look like the sort of person who requires you to put a lock on the medicine cabinet. Do they realize that I've been prescribed codeine once before in my life and didn't take it? How about that I have inhaled but only 3 times? That's three actual inhalations not 3 separate occasions on which inhalation occurred.

Anyway, I've taken one of the V1c0d1n and I've put calls in to the doctors to get an appointment for tomorrow and the proper referrals to be allowed to go. I have ice packs. I have braved the changing of the bandage all by myself.

It's days like this that I'm sorry I didn't take a job that made me rich. Then I could hire someone to cut my head off and take care of it until it feels better.

A Good Time Was Had By Me!

There was a lot of champagne consumed at my party on Friday. If you like champagne you should come next year because we'll do it again. I'm blaming the blurry photography on the champagne not on the crappy camera, isn't that refreshing? (I think all but one of these photos was taken by Kath. She is my official party photographer and next year I hope to provide her with better equipment.)
People played the piano! There was much chastisement for not having Christmas sheet music, though, so we could sing along. Anyone know where I can get a hymnal or a book of Christmas favorites on the cheap? I'm definitely going to need to get the piano tuned before next year's party.
If Martha Stewart could see my party she would despair. She'd be wrong, though. I had no whipped cream and no one said anything about it. Lilybainne walked in and said, "Do you have orange juice?" when I said no she said, "Be right back." I didn't realize that for her, and maybe for others, my house is synonymous with mimosas. I made a tradition without even planning on it, how cool is that? I left dirty linens hiding in the tub and nobody noticed that either. My decorative wine cooler? Was the vessel to my crockpot. My outfit? Was anchored by comfy yoga pants and a month-old pedicure. It didn't diminish the fun one iota. I forgot that I'd purchased cider but halfway through the day a discussion of mulled cider ensued and I said, "Wait! I bought cider!" Then Kath requested some mulled cider and the mulling expert, Pony Express, obliged and it was delicious.
The dogs were super good. There was begging and wrassling but also resting and petting and general awesomeness. Can you see the half mast quality to my girl's eyes? She was bushed with all those people to keep track of. The cats turned out to be the star attraction, though. Later in the evening, and much to Audio Girl's delight, they came out and deigned to be petted and made much of. Miss Anna even, at long last, allowed the Audio Girl to pick her up and rock her and mush her and kiss her stinky face. It was an enormous feline break through. Their therapist will be thrilled.
On Thanksgiving Kath praised Alex's clean up skills by saying he was a master dishwasher packer. On Friday he made the mistake of asking if I needed help. I asked for the dishwasher packing skills. He went full service. He cleaned the kitchen, diagnosed my dead external hard drive, played the piano, gave out one of his CDs, remembered to get paid for another and ate enough chocolate pie to satisfy his love of pie. He is awesome and I am thankful that his awesome got all over my kitchen.
I don't think he's flipping off the photographer in that shot but you never know.

Evaluation Requires Re-Assessment

Pretty, no?

A brave few have requested the open wound picture and they're getting it. They are also getting the stitches photo. When I took the gauze off tonight and saw the stitches for the first time I got a little woozy and had to turn away from the mirror. The damage is significantly worse than I expected, though I remain certain that it will heal out into something nearly unnoticable. They're about a quarter of an inch wide and they run into my hairline at least a quarter of an inch (no more widow's peak) and fully halfway down my forehead. It's the sort of thing I do actually tend to fuzz my eyes for at the movies so I didn't want to subject anyone to it unknowingly.

So, I'm re-assessing my thoughts about recovery and about what happened yesterday. They kept asking me if I was OK and putting my feet up and telling me to just stay where I was if I was dizzy and I was very cold but thought it was stupid to be in shock for something so small. Well, no, not so small. I was in shock, there's no doubt about it and it is weird that I wasn't dizzy or freaked out but that's mostly because ignorance is bliss. Since I was a little kid I've been pretty good at mind over matter in emergency situations. I think I'll probably sleep propped up on the couch another night and I will buy gauze and a third ice pack tomorrow and I'm not going to feel bad about staying home this week and I might have to add a day. I think I'll probably be so bored I'd rather go in but I may not stay a full day.

Also, this thing is going to be hard to look at for quite some time. I'm not sure how I'm going to do the Christmas party I was invited to in 2 weeks. Perhaps I'll pretend it's Halloween and do some sort of gypsy-inspired head scarf. (Can you just hear the whispers of "cancer" as I walk around the place?) Those hats I was talking about earlier seemed like an indulgence but now I'm thinking they're just good common sense.

In other news, I beg your indulgence as I ask for some more good thoughts from you all, not for me but for Kath. Last week her darling Bobby zigged when he should have zagged and broke her nose with his hard head. Tomorrow she's going to have to have it re-broken by a professional so it will heal properly. This sounds like some sort of torture to me so I'll be alleviating my boredom tomorrow by thinking really good thoughts for her. Join me, please?

The Fixer

I just fixed all the photos from yesterday. There's one that's not posted because it's super gross and PE hasn't even sent it to me yet. She bravely took it when the gauze was off but before the sutures were in. She has said about it: "If it were a kid I didn't have any connection with I'd be fine but when it's someone I care about..." "Yeeeeeaaah, it's pretty deep" "I'm leaving when they get the needle out." Right after she took the gross photo blood started dripping down my face. Whoops.

So, anyway, I'm not going to post the gross pic because I don't have the ability to put things behind a cut (also jump cuts irritate me) but if you're truly curious just shoot me an e-mail (isabeau6 at hotmail dot com) and I'll send it to you personally.

Suture shot will come when I do a bandage change this evening.

Also, Tylenol with codeine isn't as much fun or as useful as I thought it would be.

Also, also, the most comfortable way to keep my head elevated and iced is to go for a walk in the cold.

And also, the swelling is a bit less now, healing is surely happening.

Going back to sleep now.

Since I'm Up

It's not 10 things and it's not Tuesday but it'll do.

1. We can make a pill that gives you a 4 hour woody, we can continue to find work for Peter Deluise, we can, even though it's a cliche, put a man on the moon but we can't make an antibiotic capsule that doesn't smell like powdered ass?

2. I'm bored. I'm bored of keeping my head tilted and elevated and iced. I'm going to keep doing it (after I finish cheating like I am right now) and I'm probably going to fall asleep in short stints but I'm bored of it. Just, you know, in case you were wondering.

3. I'm planning a hat buying spree. Totally kicking myself for not buying that hat in H&M in September. (Remember it Zelda?) The scar must be protected from sun and stuff and a brim would do the rest of my face good, too. Plus? Hip! I've been waiting for this opportunity since the 80's.

Fathead

I'm home. No pain yet and I'm working on heading that off at the pass. Yay for codeine!

I understand that the pictures won't load and there are a lot of them so I will fix that but not right now. There's uh...some swelling. If by some I mean a lot and quite close to my precious eyes. So I'm icing and elevating and watching ridiculous TV and that's probably the plan for the evening. Apparently I require a lot of lidocaine for proper pain prevention and the more they stick the more you puff up.

Oh, 20 stitches. Not a length of 20, it's a depth thing, there are 2 layers but I think that's still pretty impressive. 3 more than my dad's record and he played hockey. I just lay around on the beach without sunscreen.

Thank you all very much for keeping up with the saga and sending all your great juju. Every good thought has helped more than you can know.

On the way home...

Use big words with her. The little ones might fall out. P.E. Signing off

Idle hands.....

Post round 2.

The Matter At Head..

And she is under...

The knife that is. We assume she is still awake. Pictures from the phone to the blog do not work so pics once we are back in Bklyn.
The waiting room is lovely and we curve the average age downward considerably.
More as more progresses.
-Pony Express- for the otherwise occupied mistress of this blog.

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Beforehead

I do not have an iPhone. We were liveblogging from Pony's iPhone. It was awesome.

Art For the People

Since Design Sponge and Mighty Goods introduced me to all the original and affordable art that is easy to find thanks to the wonder of Mr. Gore's internet I have been obsessed. For a while I harbored a secret plan to give original artwork for Christmas but, you know, I'm just not sure if it's OK to buy people art. What if they don't like what you like or you can't work out what they like? What if they don't like or don't need any more art? Will they feel obligated to hang it up when you come over even if they hate it? I've had some spectacularly heartfelt and horrible ideas for presents before. So, instead of giving the art (I think, don't count it out, I haven't really even begun my Christmas shopping yet) I'll pass along one of the lovely links. With the tag line, "everyone needs art" 20x200 is a site giving us laypeople access to lower cost limited runs of artwork. They introduce 2 new pieces each week, one photographic and one on paper, in a run of 200. The pieces are available in different sizes, the smallest of which is sold for $20.

$20 for limited run "real" art.

That's art for the people. Why don't you go treat yourself to some?

Good Eats

At Kath's kind and generous insistence I broke turkey with her and Alex and their friend, Leo, on Thanksgiving night. It was delicious! She made turkey, mushroom gravy, homemade cranberry-orange relish, roasted potatoes, green beans, cornbread stuffing from scratch (OK, Leo made the stuffing) and probably something else I'm forgetting because my brain turned off when my mouth was so very full.

Alex carved.
Bobby "helped."
I turned on too many lights and took pictures of the pretty table settings.

It was something to be thankful for, indeed.

God Bless America

And I mean that in the sense of, "God bless him, he's an asshole but he's my uncle so we'll have to invite him to the wedding."

On this day before I have some whittling done to my face I've had no less than three people ask me, "Are you nervous?" Quite honestly, no. Keyed up in that way you get before you do something you know nothing about but not so nervous. Then 2 things happened to just explode nervous energy all over me like spaghetti-os on a toddler.

1. The doc's office called to say that I needed a referral. Well, if I wanted, I could always pay the higher non-referral price of course. Oh, and by the way, the girl was sure to remind me numerous times, she was doing me a favor by giving me this courtesy call because I was a first time patient, it was entirely my responsibility/fault. I got it taken care of but not before my blood pressure went through the roof and I called my regular doc's office and got no answer and a bunch of stuff like that. Health care in America is patient-centric and awesome, oh yeah.

2. On the way home there was a weird and seemingly causeless traffic jam on a major thoroughfare alongside the park. When I got right up to it I saw that there was a large lab-adjacent dog standing in the road not doing much of anything. He had tags and a prong collar and he looked familiar so I called and whistled and sort of got his attention but he wouldn't move. So I moved toward him slowly. I didn't get more than a step but he barked at me and jittered out of the street and onto the sidewalk ahead of me. When I approached again he lit out into the park. One lone dude was up on the hill and it turned out they belonged to each other. They got reunited and the guy was freaked and thankful and I ran into him again nearer to home. He still doesn't have a clue how the dog got that far away which is weird since it isn't off leash time so he should have been keeping a much closer eye on his dog...but anyway, crisis averted after again putting my actual heart into my actual throat.

Coming home after that afternoon/evening was anti-climactic. If we don't get home in time to buy cat food tomorrow (special food, gets delivered on Tuesdays, until tomorrow they're out) then they'll eat dog food. If I can't figure out what to bring for a snack I'll buy a snack later. None of it will be as bad as watching that dog get hit would have been.

I was talking to Chili today and a lesson I learned in drama school kept popping up: Think. Breathe. Speak. I write it at the top of any reading or public speaking I ever do. I think it's going to be the watch phrase for the week.

The Aftermath

Anything with math in the title can't be good, right?

KDiddy wrote a brief recap of her Thanksgiving. It was average, simple, nothing to link to. Except she dropped in a mention of her parents decade-old divorce and how it colored her Thanksgiving. Then people responded. As is often the case with the internet, she found she was not alone. The comments are few but interesting. I really like the one about a family being a shared narrative and how part of your narrative is false if a divorce happens.

I commented elsewhere but if you've got experience or an opinion I recommend you go take a look. If you're one of the people who thinks that adult children of divorce should just "get over it" I recommend you instead spend your time perfecting your flying leap. We are adults with lives and families of our own and we're moving on and forward and we're fine but it's like, I don't know, like having a surgical pin in your knee. You don't think about it all the time and it doesn't keep you from doing everything you have to or want to do but it's there and it's an issue and it's not going away.

The Long List of Things I Don't Get

This week's PostSecret offering had a number of secrets on the theme of virginity. One e-mail said this:

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Saturday, November 24, 2007 1:51 PM
Subject: Married virgins

Hi Frank,

A Lifetime of Secrets arrived in the post today. One of the secrets was: "I'm in a wonderful, loving marriage and we are still virgins and that's okay with me. "

I wanted to say to the secret-writer: Me too! My husband and I have been married for eighteen months and we couldn't be happier! And we know two other couples in the same sort of relationships. We're all friends and happy for one another. We know that just because we don't do the mattress rodeo it doesn't mean our relationships are any less valid than anyone else's.

Victoria Glancetts (it's cool to print my name)

On the one hand I feel like, ok cool, as long as everyone is happy with it and I certainly wouldn't call the partnership less valid than any other. On the other hand I'm incredulous, 'cause guys? Sex is awesome! Some days, certainly, more awesome than others but still, overall and with rare exception, a day with sex is better than your average day without it. I just hope they have some wiggle room on this whole virgin marriage thing, that they're giving all the many permutations of the term a chance. Don't knock it if you haven't tried it and all that. You know?

Here's Something I'd Completely Forgotten About

This was Lesterhead's first NaBloPoMo and she accidentally dropped out of the running as of the 24th. Frankly with all she does with her days I don't know how she managed to stay in it that long but she did and there's always next year! Way back at the beginning of this year's adventure she posted a meme I wanted to do so I marked it to come back to and just now got all the way back there.

1. Do you have a tattoo? No. I would really like one but I have both pain and commitment issues.
2. How old are you? 38 for a very short time longer.
3. Are you single or taken? Single but quite taken with myself.
4. Fish? To eat, sure, though preferably shellfish, but to do, not so much.
5. Do you dream in color? Yes.
6. Ever seen a corpse? Yes. Plenty of times. Not a fan of the open casket thank you.
7. Hipsters or Hillbillies? Hillbillies.
8. How did we meet? You were manning a PUPS table at the greenmarket and I stopped by to say hello to Kath.
9. What's your philosophy on life and death? Life is good but please be fully prepared for your death. Anything less is rude.
10. If you could do anything with me, and have no one know, what would it be? I'd ask you to go shopping with me to get an outfit that's far hipper than the rest of my closet.
11. Do you trust the police? Not much.
12. Do you like musicals? So very much yes!
13. What is your fondest memory of me? I loved how Queen of the Evening you were at your CHB anniversary party.
14. If you could change anything about yourself what would it be? My complete inability to forgive people who have wronged me.
15. Would you cheat ? Have. I'd like to say I wouldn't again and I really probably wouldn't but...well, never say never.
16. What are you wearing? Oh, I should have read through the meme before I jumped in, shouldn't I? Ankle socks, wool socks, leggings, tank top, old mock neck sweater with too short arms, granny panties. It's what I wore to dance class this morning (with jeans over for the ride there and back) and I haven't quite gotten over it at all.
17. Have you ever peed in a pool? Not that I recall. Rephrase this for other bodies of water, though and...
18. Would you hide evidence for me if I asked you to? Depends on the severity of the crime. Sorry.
19. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? We don't know each other very well yet, it'd have to be pretty specialized circumstances if we spent your last day together. If we did, though, I can say for sure that we'd do whatever you wanted to do.
20. Which do you prefer - short or long hair? Short.
21. What's your favorite day of the week? Sunday.
22. What's your favorite color? Blue, especially cornflower and midnight.
23. If you could bring back anyone that has passed, who would it be? Oh good lord this is impossible. Er, god, I can't bring myself to do it. The names that are winging through my mind are my grandfather, an old school friend who killed himself, Shakespeare, Chekhov, Martin Luther King, Jr., the Kennedy brothers, wow, there are no women on that list. Mrs. X. Yeah, if I have to choose just one I choose her. How soon can we make that happen?
24. Tell me one interesting/odd fact about you? My hair is so cowlicky that my hair dresser talks about it almost constantly. She often can't cut my hair exactly the way she wants to because the cowlicks dictate otherwise.
25. What was your first impression of me? Very nice, super hip (but not disdainfully so like a lot of people I call hipster), smart, generous.
26. Have you ever done drugs? Couple of gentle inhales but, honestly, that's it.
27. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you? Sure!

Thanks for helping me keep up with the NaBloPoMo, I needed the boost.

You can't tell from these pictures but this dog is (relatively) clean. I bought a sprayer to slip over my tub nozzle but it didn't fit properly so I was rinsing her with a pitcher. This is highly inefficient, especially when the dog in question is a. so thick coated and b. hates baths. She tried to get out twice but couldn't quite make the break for it. She wasn't so traumatized that she didn't go running for the treat jar the minute I opened the bathroom door, though. Neurotic, yes. Stupid, not so much.

Not Worthy

These images are three futile attempts to record the beauty of my new necklace.
It's one of these. This one to be precise. The insert with the piece says, "This is your very own superhero necklace. It will protect you from harm, attract people to you and create magic in your life."
ProfDoc said she'd been looking for an excuse to get me one. She is crazy. This is much, much too extravagant a gift. (The excuse she used was my facial surgery. I told her that with something this gorgeous on my neck no one will ever look at my face.) I do, however, love it deeply. Last Sunday I went by myself to a packed cabaret show and not only did I get seated at a table with lovely people they were lovely and very important to my friend, the performer. I bet the necklace had something to do with that.
Lucky thing that ProfDoc and I found each other, no jewelry necessary.

Revelations: Cooking

I don't cook a lot. It's not that I can't it's more that I don't derive a huge amount of joy from it and it takes a lot of time. I like occasion cooking. A whole day of holiday baking or getting ready for a party or something is fun for me. I headed into the preparation for this party with less of a firm plan than I usually have so it's been sort of funny. There have been revelations and things that probably would have been hilarious if I lived with someone else who was two-legged.

1. The first year I had the party I cooked my idea of comfort food. It turned out that a significant percentage of my guest list was vegetarian. Perhaps 2 dishes were vegetarian, not counting pie. So every year I try to expand the strictly veggie quotient. This year, on a whim, I bought a squash. I didn't know what kind I liked. When I was a kid it came in a box and I loved it. I don't eat squash much because it's never the same. I chose a butternut squash just because. I cooked it and mushed it up and grabbed a quick taste before I put it away for later. That's the kind of squash I like!

2. I ran out of room in the fridge. My ice is out on the roof (Hmm, I should bring that in before people come). So I had to postpone green bean casserole and pie making until this morning.

3. I've been missing a piece of the bread recipe for years. If you add that extra water you get a much higher yield.

4. I was baking pies and humming away and ready to just sit down and wait for the excitement to begin when I realized I'd only baked the shell for the chocolate pie, I hadn't made the pudding! And that's my favorite one.

5. Those "pecans" I bought were actually walnuts. I grabbed the wrong can. So now we're having traditional walnut pie.

6. I'm sitting quietly watching Pieces of April (gah! I forgot cranberry sauce! Must put that out!) and waiting for people to arrive. Perfect.

Simple Arithmetic

I used to weigh this much (153 lbs).
Then I lost this much (23 lbs).

Now I weigh this much (130 lbs).

Pretty good company to be in, huh? Though I think I'll shave a little more often than he will.

*Note: All measurements were made before Thanksgiving commenced.

**P.S. How does Zelda get all those great pics for her weight-picture posts? Almost all I get when I google a weight are dead deer and fish.

A Final Good Night

I've actually had to stop cooking, not because I'm finished with the menu but because I've entirely run out of room in the fridge. Tomorrow morning pies and green bean casserole. Usually tomorrow morning is reserved for that last minute cleaning binge. So, change of plans. I'd like to hit the hay about midnight so I've got 2 hours to clean. I think it's totally possible. I might even have time left over. I'm setting the timer for half an hour and working my butt off and we'll see where I am.

I am very much looking forward to that first sip of champagne tomorrow. I think I'll be wearing my yoga pants to my own party. The watch word is comfort y'all. The temperature is plummeting, the wind is blowing a gale and I'm happy to be burrowing in at home for the weekend with good food and good company.

Hope you and yours are as happy as I am.

Things For Which I Am Grateful

This is by no means a comprehensive list as I am in a bit of a hurry but I didn't want to let the day go by without at least a short list.

• I am, of course, grateful for friends and family, it's been a good and a weird day on those fronts.
• I am grateful for this gorgeous, crazy, fun city full of tourists and natives and balloons and pretty leaves and smells and home.
• I am grateful for the organization that allows me to volunteer on this day. An organization which set out to feed homebound AIDS and HIV patients and became so good at that that they were able to expand to homebound patients with other challenges.
• 2007 has had some, er, problems... challenges perhaps? Yeah, I'll keep using that. I am grateful they've been surmountable, they haven't been the kind that kill you or completely break you.
• I am grateful for my job (even though I hate it) and my health insurance (even though I hate having to have it).
• I am grateful for people like Clemo who say nice things about how young I am.
• I am grateful for the generosity of people on Thanksgiving. I have had more invitations than I could possibly accept, in at least 3 states. In just a minute or 2 I'll be having a bite with some friends then going to other friends' place for dessert and vacation photos (Africa). I'll come home and bake some pies and do some cleaning and have a fun open house tomorrow.
• If you are reading this I am grateful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving. Go have another piece of pie.

What About You?

My Thanksgiving traditions have evolved over the past 20 years in New York. I used to go home for the holiday. Then I dated a guy (the one in Somerville now) who started to work on the Macy's parade so I liked to stay in New York and have an evening dinner with him. As the years went on a number of our friends stayed in town with us and celebrated (I'll have to dig out some photos of the infamous turkey tragedy year and scan them for you.). Then I went to England and those friends took over that dinner in New York. I came back and did a couple of years with them. It was awkward but mostly fun. Pony Express and I cooked a 29lb. turkey one year, it came out beautifully. Then I moved to MI for a year and started an ever-changing tradition with people from that walk of life. The requirements for those years were that if your Thanksgiving didn't involve potted meat for breakfast and tequila with lunch and dinner then you weren't really celebrating. Distance and finances put an end to those years, not to mention my liver's begging for mercy. I bounced around for a year or two with friends here and finally decided to take part in my own destiny. I wanted to volunteer, I wanted to deliver meals. So I've done that for a number of years. This will make the third year that I will deliver those meals with a good friend, then go out to lunch with her and head home to prep for my Friday post-Thanksgiving open house. I like the easy spirit of spending the day without pressure and doing a little something to help out. I also crave the company of my friends the day after as we kick off the hectic holiday season.

What do you do for Thanksgiving? Does it make you happy?

Now That You've Seen My Toes

New hair cut and color. I'm not 100% certain about it but I think I like it.
A first she did a clean cut chin length bob and I really was scared of it, something didn't work for me, so she cut some light layers into it. I love the color, there are low lights and some much more subtle highlights. I'm not sure you can tell all that with my harsh bathroom lighting and iffy manual camera settings.
I really didn't think that this sort of change would seem so drastic to me. Does it seem drastic to you?

Also, do you like me old man bathrobe in the background there? Tres sexy.

You guys

You guys...you make me happy. Thanks so much for everything you do for my friends. When you get the middle of the night phone call from a friend it always sucks 'cause something is sucking for them but you're always happy they felt confident they could call you when they needed help. I was so angry on Z's behalf that I thought I wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. However, my natural inclinations prevailed and I did. My first thought when the alarm went off was, "What the fuck? How could this be?"

I've read her brief recap and I've heard her voice which is a huge relief. It's all good. Maybe not perfect but she will prevail. Failure is not an option.

While she was meeting I was in floor barre. Man, I had a good class. I don't know if it was the energy I had from reaching out to her or the fact that it had been less than a week since my last class or just a natural new learning plateau but if I was a superhero today I'd be Example Girl! I had to demonstrate my beautiful feet (she really said that!) and my easy weight distribution and I came to understanding on a number of little pieces of the work. I still don't enjoy doing the work, I don't love the burn or any of that shit but I do enjoy the feeling of mastery, of really getting something physically into my body. It makes me wish that I could afford the time and the money to go to class more than once a week.

Now I'm home and I've got the squash in the oven (thanks for that grating tip Chili, perfect for me!) and the butter softening for the pumpkin chocolate chip cake squares. I think I can knock those out before I go out to walk the dog, drop off some dry cleaning and return something to the hardware store. Then I'm getting my hair cut and colored (pictures to follow) and I'll make the bread tonight. I love the bread part. I realized that the vessel of my crockpot is the perfect size and shape for making the bread. I'm excited by that! Which is silly but simple pleasures, right?

I was inspired by how unfamiliar I am with the inside of squash so I've already started taking some pictures of the process. I'll be a professional food stylist yet!

I hope you're all enjoying your prep. Thanks again for everything.

Peace Love and Understanding

Zelda needs a little help, please. This morning (Wed, the 21st, 8:45am Central Time) she has a meeting that will resolve some difficult issues at work. She may end up unemployed on the day before Thanksgiving and that may be just the right thing for her.

She's all alone out on the frontier this week and she's being treated unfairly and she has no one to advocate for her but herself and she has no internet access so she can't even blog her own plea for help. Please send her your best wishes and support for making the right decisions for her. Something along the lines of dignity and abundance should do nicely.

Thanks for your help. I'll keep you posted.

I'm Not Sure I Want a Worm

About 9pm my Thanksgiving groceries were delivered by a lovely young man who was even kind to the pooch. Hold your envy, please, I know I'm lucky to get groceries delivered and I do not ever take it for granted. I got it all unpacked and called ChemE to ask about what to do with butternut squash and about my brown sugar (the only bread I have is in the freezer and I'd like to cook tomorrow, anyone have thoughts on how to remedy my rock of brown sugar?). Then I stood up straight and realized that it's too early to start cooking. Bread? Too early. Pies? Too early. Veggies, definitely too early. My guests come on Friday (the fun starts at 1 and goes on into the evening so feel free to swing by!) so really no one wants pies that have condensation pee all over them.

I was forced to go sit on the couch and play solitaire on the computer for an hour or so. I did chat with BeBe and Quewlkat to confirm their attendance at Friday's open house and entered a couple more addresses on my Christmas card list (e-mail me with requests) but that's about the size of it. After the day I spent cleaning my desk at work and lugging things to the post office (dude, the clerk I had was so nuts) I could use the rest. I think I'm going to get up early tomorrow and hit a floor barre class before I start cooking. Oo, also getting my hair cut and colored (pictures!) tomorrow evening.

Aaaaaand, now I'm officially rambling. Nighty night!

Difficulties

I don't like housework. I'll take any excuse not to do it. This is a photo of yet another reason it's difficult to clean up around the place. How can you take out the recycling if it's doubling as a cat bed?

10 Things

It's Tuesday. According to Derek lists make blogging easier. I've got nothing theme-wise. How about 10 things I'm going to cook for my post-Thanksgiving open house? Yeah, that'll do.

1. Turkey breast - Kath & Alex are having a small gathering with a big turkey on Thursday so they're kindly donating the leftovers. I'll be supplementing with a breast...a turkey breast.

2. Gravy - never enough.

3. Green bean casserole - natch.

4. Sweet potato pie - I serve and eat this as a side dish though I guess some people consider it a dessert.

5. Chocolate pie - yes it is just chocolate pudding in a pie shell, wanna make something of it?

6. Pecan pie - classic.

7. Homemade bread - perfect sandwiches.

8. Butternut squash - I used to like it as a kid, there are a fair number of vegetarians coming so I figured why not?

9. Roasted carrots & potatoes - roasted veggies are pretty much food of the gods, no?

10. Jellied cranberry sauce - yes, jellied, yes it's just opening a can, yes I do like that best, no I'm not ashamed.

What are you making/eating?

Focus On What Now?

It appears I need a vacation. A rest. A few moments without any human beings fucking things up for me. It appears I'm in the same place as a very smart 5-year-old, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Just a little bit, not to worry, I'm not going all Lisa Bright and Dark on anyone.

It's just that today the train was very crowded and I did get a seat finally and was resting my eyes when there was buzzing and frantic talking and it seemed that a woman had passed out. The authorities were called which means that the train needs to stop until the passenger is confirmed to be well or at least cared for by professionals. Usually I would stay on the train 2 more stops, change across the platform and get off at the next stop and walk my 2 blocks to work. When the train stopped at the next station, though, I got off because I did know that the train would be in the station for a bit. Then I wandered down the platform a bit. I couldn't decide what to do. It was too far to walk. Both the express and the local were stalled in the station and crammed full of people. I couldn't figure out my next step, just aimless wandering, and the woman was off the train and standing and a nurse had been nearby so she was helping.

Baffled. For like 3 minutes.

For anyone who has not guessed this, the answer to what to do is STAND HERE UNTIL ANOTHER TRAIN COMES YOU IDIOT!

So I did.

On Saturday, my friends, I am going to sleep the entire day away and I will love every minute of it.

Get On With Your Blurry Self

So, what do you think? If you were in a rock band and I was handling your front of house would I be hip enough for you? You can't really tell but this outfit took a mastery of layering to accommodate any climate. It starts with a pretty pink bra, adds a tank top in case the place is packed and broiling, then a cropped loose weave sweater (thank you, Miflohny) for warmth but still showing the hotter skin baring tank, scarf (handmade by a Bee who is Queen) because if your neck is warm you are warm(er), the jean jacket and, for the walk to and from Alex's to get in the car I added a winter coat.

When I put it that way I don't sound very hip at all, do I?

Alex was really nice about it, though. I think that was because he knew I'd be a pit bull at the door. He and the Nu-Sonics gave a super set, they got a bunch of their new CDs out (Have you bought or downloaded yours yet? If you're going to buy just one track to get started may I suggest Nice Guys or Say Hello No Goodbyes) and I think had some fun, too. I was glad to be there and happy, but not surprised, to see what a nice turnout they had. My only regret was not having a night vision equipped camera so I could get a few pictures of the celebratory group. They looked hot and cool so steam was practically obscuring the stage.

Sort of a win-win

Back along at the beginning of October I submitted a piece for consideration for the new Fray book. They said that decisions would be made by the end of that month and in this case no news is bad news so I didn't get in. I said I'd post the piece here if I didn't get in, though, so it's not like it was written in vain. Here it is:

Streaking Down Myrtle Avenue
A Caught in the Act Story

When I was 25 I went to drama school in London. Back in New York, 26, well-educated but underemployed I mooched then rented a room in a house owned by two college friends. The three of us shared groceries, cooking, cleaning and dog-care chores. We also shared a kitchen and a bathroom.

I have a sweet tooth. Really, all my teeth are sweet. Despite a genetic river of diabetes in my family there is nothing I like more than eating dessert first. If I can’t have it first I’m perfectly happy to have it instead of dinner. It doesn’t need to be elaborate, though, I’m as likely to scarf down a Kit-Kat as I am a hand-dipped Belgian truffle.

One afternoon I was alone in the kitchen and had a hankering for something sweet. Being lazy I reached into the fridge and pulled out the economy-sized bottle of chocolate syrup. Using a large dessert spoon I gulped down 2 or 3 spoonfuls of this white trash delicacy and, as sometimes happens, couldn’t seem to stop. It’s a lot like playing solitaire on the computer, you say you’re only going to play one more game but when the game ends you’re powerless against the thrall of the ‘New Game’ button. So, in an effort to stop the madness I chucked my spoon into the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. (I didn’t say we did the chores well, just that we shared them.)

I took my time savoring the last drops of chocolate on my tongue while holding the bottle in one hand and the cap in the other.

It wasn’t enough.

I wanted more, not a lot but more, definitely. Listening carefully for approaching footsteps I positioned myself behind the kitchen door for cover in case I was ambushed, ditched the cap and up-ended the jug over my outstretched tongue.

This is a precarious position to be in, should you ever try it yourself. Gravity is a demanding mistress and you can’t just stop the flow of sugary goo in an instant unless you want to be covered in it.

Before I could extricate myself D. flipped open the door and strode in. He was greeted by a scene out of an Afterschool Special. I was hunching my shoulders and trying to turn away from the door to shield myself from his eyes, to swallow without gagging or drooling and to gently return the bottle to its full upright and locked position without turning myself into a cheap, edible reproduction of a Jackson Pollack painting.

D. stood, frozen on the peeling linoleum for a moment.

“Um….oops?” I said, smiling sheepishly.

Then we both laughed.

Whenever I think of that time of my life I think of that incident and I’m immediately brought back to a sense of shame, but that shame is mixed with glee.

At the time I was working as a freelance theatre technician, temp theatre season subscription salesperson and general dogsbody. I had deferred my student loans for the year I was in the UK but those payments would quickly be coming due along with all the regular bills my meager and irregular paychecks were meant to cover. Apparently my life didn’t feel exciting enough even then because I also began dating a man who had recently become engaged to his live-in lover.

I was, in every facet of my life, all but begging to be caught. Catch me in your bed with your fiancé. Catch me and demand the money I owe. Catch me and ask me what in the name of little fuzzy puppies I think I’m doing with my life.

The plan upon re-entry from my magical year abroad was to put that year’s earned knowledge and joy to work. I was to be auditioning and acting and writing and meeting agents on a regular, life-sustaining basis. Actors are the very soul of the desire to be caught. We all but run the streets naked screaming, “Catch me! Catch me! Please, catch me!” like three-year-olds at bedtime. We want to be caught doing something fascinating, to be caught saying just the right thing or leaning into the sunlight in just the right way so that you see that you cannot live for one moment more without putting us on your stage, screen, billboard or radio.

While I found a great deal of pleasure in acting, freelancing and having sex with a forbidden man the shame I experienced with them didn’t have the element of delight I equate with that chocolate syrup moment. As I licked sauce from my lips I was able to laugh with a friend over one questionable choice and fundamental weakness. Not so for the other things. While I could laugh with my lover I couldn’t laugh about us. While I loved being in a rehearsal room or on a small stage on the fringes of the New York scene, when I thought about it all I could see was where I hadn’t yet gone and wasn’t getting any time soon. While I enjoyed my friends and my simple pleasures and a culture of barter I turned ferociously on someone who said, “No one can really live in New York for under $40K.” All I could see in that phrase was judgment.

Twelve years later I’m able to pay my bills without fear and I’ve extricated myself from my naughty lover but I’m not much further along with making my acting, or writing or photography for that matter, my full time job. I think I remember standing in that kitchen and feeling the sweet rush of being caught in the act because it reminds me to honor my impulses. It reminds me that there are those who see my weaknesses without judgment. I still love what I do and my many talents are still valuable and that is what is most important while I streak down Myrtle Avenue screaming, “Catch me! Catch me! Please catch me!”

Off-season Pretty

I get a peculiar little-sister glee from posting this picture. When I was on tour one of my castmates was seriously grossed out by feet. I used to get a kick out of putting my feet on his chair arm on long drives to freak him out. What can I say? You drive an average of 3 hours a day in a van with the same 2 people for 9 months and we'll see how sane you're able to stay.

This is the pretty World Series winning Red Sox Red pedicure that I got back when I surprised Queen Bee for her birthday. Still looks prety good, huh?

Or do you think feet are gross?

Pointer to the Past

It seems that people are preparing again for a season of Yankee Swaps and White Elephant parties. I get a lot of people poking around here for my post on the rules of the Yankee Swap but it occurs to me that the new readers or the casual NaBloPoMo drop bys might not have noticed my helpful little instruction manual for one of the cruelest tortures that the holiday season has to offer.

Head on over here if you need some help figuring out how to navigate a "friendly" holiday gift exchange.

Clearly I Will Do Anything You Ask

Gert requested another set of brothers. Brothers are cool. I would make a joke about the Fiennes brothers being the Brit version of the Wahlberg brothers but it wouldn't be true and we all know that every great joke has a grain of truth in it. Joe and Ralph are lovely and they pick (mostly) very good projects. Enjoy!

Support Your Local Small Businesses!

There are at least a cagillion reasons why you should support your local small businesses but I had a first hand positive reinforcement experience today. I went to Who's Your Doggy to get pet food and I bought what I needed but it turned out I'd bought more than the cash in my pocket could cover. Didn't have my bank card either. So the following conversation ensued.

Me: Oh man, I'm so sorry, would you mind holding it for me and I'll be back in like 15 minutes with my card?

Her: OK, sure. Do you want to just take the stuff with you and call in your card number?

Well son of a bitch, yes, that's exactly what I want to do but what store in this day and age would let me do such a thing? Saved me some steps and some angst and just made me feel warm and fuzzy all over. I love that feeling.

Ever Done Brothers?

The Wahlberg brothers are way more popular than I thought. I got so many comments about them. It also turns out I know someone who was such a NKotB fan that she won a cruise with the group when she was in high school. They're good Boston boys so I am obligated to love them but they do have some substance. It's been a little disheartening for me to watch Entourage this fall and see the fictional Donnie portrayed as such a high violence, low intelligence boob. Mark, who was never my favorite, has the slight religious nutjobbery going for him now, too, which is a big check in the ick column for me. However, at Chili's kind request (I love the requests and she loves me) I give you this as tribute to all that is good within these boys.

She woke me up and hour early, I can post what I like of her

Sorry this is a little blurry I was laughing too hard to focus properly. To be clear she's not cleaning herself, she's asleep. She's 7 years old and I've never seen do this before. Certainly doesn't look comfortable to me.

Ass Just Officially Kicked

I take this dance class. It seems easy because most of the time you're lying on the floor.

That's deceptive.

It's a mixed level class so you never know what you're going to get since she teaches to everyone's level. Usually, though, there are at least a couple of beginners so she stops frequently to explain concepts and demonstrate them on the veterans.

Today there were 3 of us and all vets. No stopping. No explaining. Just work. Lots and lots of work. Then 1 lady left because she usually only takes half an hour of this class and then goes to another ballet class. Then the other lady, who is well into her 70s left because she isn't able to do the standing portion of class any more.

Just me. All alone. Thoroughly scrutinized.

I learned a whole lot, though. (Are we sensing a theme for the weekend yet? What will I learn from Alex's gig?) However, I am bushed, beaten, rung out. I'm taking a brief tea and wifi break around the corner from the rehearsal studio then I've got a couple of hours of rehearsal. Then laundry. Then I hope that there will be dinner quite close to home and then possible appropriate collapse.

Whew!

What are y'all up to today?

Julie Andrews Didn't Sing About These

Mrs. G is sponsoring a day of "Favorite Things" today. Mrs. G is a sweet and proper woman whose lists of favorite things have been nothing but appropriate for the whole family. When I asked, though, she said that my favorite things could be naughty. See how nice she is?

(If you don't want to talk about sex with me - or anyone - this is a post you should skip. If you're not sure and you don't skip it you can't blame me for any residual ick you may retain.)

Do you have a porn drawer? Some people call it a toy drawer or a secret drawer. Some people don't have a drawer because they feel the need to hide the contents somehow deeper when company comes to stay* so they have a box or a suitcase or something. I have a drawer and it's pretty close to full.

Mostly it's full of reading material. I'm a fan of these books edited by Susie Bright. Over the years they've gotten a little more hard core but generally there's always a few stories that...pique my interest.

I have been known to indulge in these books but they're hit or miss. I think I have Book X and it's good but Zelda and I have compared notes and some are not.

The Anais Nin books are, of course, gateway erotica. If you're a little bit interested in what I 'm talking about but this sort of thing makes you hinky (rather than horny; hinky = bad, horny = good) then this is where you should start. Really I probably ought to send you mine, I feel like I've grown out of them. Does that sound weird? It sounds weird to me but it is nonetheless true.

Back along Zelda had a professional discount on "adult items" and she gave me one of my favorite pieces in the drawer. The Rabbit is awesome. It's not subtle in any way but its a treat and you deserve it.

There's other stuff in the drawer but last but not least of the postable items is the Pocket Rocket. This was a a "heart" felt gift from an ex. The drawer really needs that boy back. If you're looking for subtle and delightful this is for you.

Ah, I love my drawer. And it loves me back.

*Here's my feeling about hiding this stuff. No, it shouldn't be out in plain sight because you never know who's coming over or who might steal the good stuff. However, all that hiding it is about is setting up a polite construct. It's not about creating your own personal closet Fort Knox. You want it to be somewhere that the casual visitor shouldn't be looking and can't accidentally stumble across. If they find it they have only themselves to blame and can't really bring it up because they shouldn't have been there in the first place. If they can't bring it up then they can't give you crap about it or change the way they treat you over it because they were the big old snoops and they made their own (naughty naughty) bed so they'll have to lie in it. (All of the above applies to keeping the stuff out of reach to adult visitors not children. Keeping it out of reach of children is a whole different ballgame.)

Mind. Blown.

I'm going to talk about writing, specifically writing for performance so before I do I feel compelled to point you to Pamie. She is a professional writer for performance and has subsequently become a Strike Captain for her corner of the WGA strike. She is also a web icon and a wonderful person from what I can tell. She certainly tells the strike story well and gives you a good idea of what you can do and what the strike is about. I especially like her friend's defense of Ellen Degeneres character (if you've read it on Perez Hilton you owe Pamie $1, he stole it from her), which illustrates the huge gray areas in a conflict like this.

Anyway, rehearsal is awesome.

I have been working once a week for 2 hours in a rehearsal studio on 2 new pieces. I have rented a theatre for the 15th & 16th of February (Save the Date!) and I've asked a number of wonderful women to perform with me and we're developing original work to perform on that weekend. So far I've tended to spend 1 hour writing and 1 hour working on the non-verbal piece. Last week I felt like I really had hit the end of the first draft on the written piece. I couldn't go any further on my own and I needed to hear it out loud. So I called Peter Weekly and asked if he could get together for a coffee shop read of what I'd written. Technically there were small chunks that we'd read and the lion's share of the piece is monologue.

Or...was...(that's foreshadowing in the parlance of the profession).

For the most part I'd put together a piece of work, a solo piece, from a short story by Lisa Tuttle. I felt that the bits that I'd written between these monologues were weak and perhaps overdone. PW's first comment was that he likes my writing. He's a flatterer. He went on to say that he wondered why I was drawn to monologues. When I explained where the monologues had come from he was even more confused as to why I was using them. In short order he'd convinced me that the more interesting, more dramatic, in short better choice was to find what I was attracted to in the short story and bring it to the form I'd written myself.

Do you fully grasp this? I'm cutting out the majority of what I've written/adapted and now I have to re-write my parts to include what is important to that. Re-craft my parts, even. It is the right and terrifying choice.

This is not new news. My father has often said, "Now it's time to hear your writing." I have a penchant for mimicry. I like to choose a style or a story and emulate it, to grow from a seedling someone else has planted, if you will. Pony Express has said it too and I'm sure they're not the only ones. The thing is, I like to write that way. Turns out it's not always the best choice. It's not that I didn't believe Pony and my father, it's just that PW had a right place right time situation and a good example and was able to convince me.

So now I'm flying without a freaking net. There's no keeping in one good joke so I know one thing will work because it was written by someone I find brilliant. It'll be all me. We sat in a coffee shop and then a bar for about three hours and we dissected the characters so I can see them more clearly and, knowing their motivations, I can find the overall story arc. When I hit rehearsal tomorrow I'll be spending the first few minutes getting very familiar with the delete key. This is petrifying and yet, for once, I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait to keep writing and to see what happens next.

I am very lucky to have had a number of collaborators who really know me. I can show them something I've been working on and they can see beyond what I have written or performed to what it can and should be. They can see what I wish I had done and they can help me get there with a well-placed comment or question. Pony Express is one of these people, my mentor is of course another, Jay was one, too. Turns out PW is one. Did I mention my luck? He's got a gentle manner when he rips out my heart and chops it into tiny pieces so it's relatively easy to really hear what he says. I couldn't do what I do without these people and I am so very grateful for their time and effort on my part. I was feeling entirely stuck before tonight's meeting and now I'm just feeling creative and optimistic and full of fun.

Who backs your play? (As the kids say.)

One More For The Road

I did something out of character and spoke to my neighbors last week.

Early on Sunday morning while walking the dog I ran into the guy at left (known to me as That Taciturn Guy With the Bulldog) while we ogled a car accident and I noticed he had his marathon number. I wished him luck and he got nervous and wandered off.

Not sure how it worked out but I got this good picture of him. Later in the week I ran into his wife and offered to e-mail her the picture. It made me very nervous but I did it because I didn't want the picture to go to waste. She was appreciative because when she met up with him at mile 20 and was juggling grabbing the stuff he didn't need and getting a kiss she didn't have time to get a picture.

She tells me that this is his second marathon and that he shaved 40 minutes off his previous time. I find that extremely impressive.

Sharing the Whimsy

I want to be clear, in case I haven't been before, I do not believe that Christmas decorations or music or other fripperies should appear before Thanksgiving. I have made an exception this year for Jay's Christmas CD. Since he's gone and since he loved Christmas so much I enjoy it when his voice comes up on shuffle. Aside from that, though, no Red and Greed displays before Tryptophan day!

Planning, however? Planning needs to occur early. Sometimes it's just a thinking sort of planning, sometimes it's a designing sort, sometimes talking and every now and then you get to do the ordering sort of planning. This year I chose two of my own photos, doctored them very slightly and ordered them from iPrint as postcards to be my Christmas cards. They arrived last week and I love them! Some people, I know, will love them too, others will think they're rather odd but I'll know that they're me all me. I would post the pictures they're from but some people who read here will be getting them and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

There's an ordering minimum, though, so I think I'll have a few extras. If you'd like to get a little whimsy in your mailbox this season and you feel certain that I won't turn freaky stalker on your ass then e-mail me your postal address (isabeau6 at hotmail dot com) and I'll send you a card.

I Do Love Me a Gangster

Apparently everyone but me saw American Gangster this weekend. Chili in particular requested a Hot People post in honor of this good movie. She requested some Russell Crowe and some Denzel Washington and some Cuba Gooding, Jr. I added this first one, Idris Elba, who may be familiar to anyone who's watched the Wire. He's lovely. Sorry about the lack of chick love but apparently a gangster movie is not usually replete with chicks of any kind hot or otherwise.
Russell is stalking you.
This is vintage Cuba, from Jerry Maguire. I think it's always wise to go back to basics.

Now Russell is concerned, though. Perhaps he's afraid he's being upstaged. Russell hates to be upstaged.
Denzel apologizes but he can't help who he is, can he?

Come Play With Me!

Do you know what I'm doing on Saturday?

I'm playing band bitch* for Alex and his band, the Nu-Sonics. They made a CD! Download MP3s (legally!) here.

Or you could come join us for the release party on Saturday and buy an actual, tangible CD.

Helpful details:

The Nu-Sonics Record Release Party
Saturday, November 17, 2007

Love Camp 7 8:00 PM
The Nu-Sonics 9:00 PM
$10 Cover including a copy of the new CD!!!
The Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston Street in NYC.
Take the F train to Second Ave. and walk east 3 blocks.
Phone 212-673-6270.

See you there, mmmk?

*Duties include collecting the cover charge, selling CDs, making sure the band has water, running back to the car for forgotten cords, facilitating schmooze and basically whatever else I'm told to do. I'm happy to do it, I enjoy the position of groupie and these folks are a fun group. Plus I got the CD early 'cause...I'm with the band.

Behind the Scenes

I realize that I didn't tell you the biggest thing that was on my mind last week.

"But no," I hear you say, "you told us all about your basal cell carcinoma."

Yeah, well, though some parts of that floated to the top pretty much all the time, what I ended up concentrating on was my job.

Unfathomable, eh?

See, when all of a sudden around midday on a Wednesday, when you have a few of those very rare actual deadlines to meet, your computer goes entirely black and will not respond in any way. Any. Way. It seems that the internal power source was probably zorched.

The only computer in our tiny company that has access to everything and can process everything and provide everything is mine. All the information is backed up but not in a coherent and easily accessible way. So the week was fraught on pretty much every front. One awesome, I Love New York moment came out of it, though.

Wednesday at 4pm found me cabbing to the Apple store with my boss to buy me a new computer. 4:25pm found us in line with the new 20" screen iMac, some software, an extended warranty and a 500 GB back up drive. Once we'd gotten checked out and everything, I was standing on 5th Avenue trying to hail a cab at 4:45 on a weekday. This is possibly as futile an enterprise as any we have ever invented on earth. Knowing that I wanted to get home and breathe again before 8:00pm I had an idea. I beckoned over a pedicab driver and asked him for a price. My boss was entirely skeptical. As a matter of fact his last words to the guy were , "Be careful with her." Very sweet, eh?

It was the best decision I made all week. "Rickshaw Andy" loaded my things into his cart, tucked me in with a quilt and took me on a cycle down 5th Avenue and over to my office. He even went all the way up onto the sidewalk (highly illegal but his cousin's a cop so he has a get out of ticket free card) right to the door of my building and unloaded my heavy burden. He's hilarious and kind and he talks non-stop. He talked to me, he talked to other drivers, he talked to pedestrians and doormen, and he sang. It was glorious. From here on out whoever comes to New York to visit me is required to take a pedicab ride. It's fun and silly and a nice way to appreciate the city.

It's a little expensive, though, so it's not like I could do it every day. Come visit soon, ok?

I Forgot One

I also want this shirt. Has there ever been more truth in shirt form*? I think not. I actually don't even so much want to get one just for me but to get a pallet of them and give them out to all of us, don't you think we all need one? Because we are. The best pieces of glassware have little imperfections that make them more interesting, right?



*It might be hard to read at this size. It says "Flawed But Authentic," how smart is Leah?

Since It's Not Christmas Yet It's OK To Be Greedy, Right?

10 Things I Want

1. The Writers' Guild strike to end

2. The Local 1 Strike to end

3. This feather duster

4. A Sun Jar

5. A fancy dancy camera

6. With a big old phallic lens

7. Sports Night, I mean, who wouldn't benefit from Sports Night?

8. Contact lenses

9. Some more big bookcases

10. Whirled peas

Sometimes I find it good to get the greed out in list form before it's time to go gift shopping. What's on your list?

Oh, and bonus item: more plastic bags. Am running woefully low in my high pet count household.

The Wiring in Here is Shot

Somehow there was a massive miswiring in brain this morning because when I clicked my travel mug* shut I was shocked that the bathroom light didn't turn on.

*Travel mugs are a necessity by the bed Chez Me or some cat (Elvis) will drink it all. Or possibly get his head stuck in the glass and have to be rescued.

Veterans

I planned a Veterans Day post for the real Veterans Day, yesterday. I was inspired by CBS Sunday Morning. I think I stopped myself because I think one should always stop oneself when they're being inspired by a fluffy weekly news program. But Ben Stein made such good points and they were interviewing the parents of ROTC students but there was also a recruiter and then there were the pictures of Arlington Cemetary and...well, apparently there's a safety valve in my brain that keeps me from writing when inspired by that stuff.

Well, sometimes at least.

Still, I wanted to mark the day. Tonight while I was cleaning I put on some music. I need music you can sing along to when I clean so there are often show tunes. Lots and lots of show tunes. Shuffle brought up a selection from Les Miserables. It seems as good a way as any to mark the day, because it's got some truth to it.

Keep your eyes peeled for Veterans and show some gratitude. It's never a bad thing.

MARIUS
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.

Here they talked of revolution.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about `tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lonely barricade at dawn.

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me

That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.

Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.