I'm headed out for a lot of socialization today. I'm weary. I love my people, I really do, but it's cold and I'm tired and just a tiny bit discouraged in general so I kind of just wish I could hibernate. I've RSVP'd and I've made bread and cookies and appointments so that's not in the cards. I know I'll have fun when I get out there. Before I go I'm going to toss out a few more links for you. Not too many.
First, though, an informal survey. Do you participate in the phenomenon that is Facebook? What features do you use? Do you have a sort of "Facebook Identity"? i.e. Do you use it primarily for business, for catching up with people from the past that you've lost, keeping in touch with current friends? What prompted you to sign up?
NakedJen is talking about a movie that's talking about race. It looks pretty good but there aren't any distribution details yet.
According to this post the men who make reservations at fancy restaurants with their wives for Valentine's Day make reservations at other fancy restaurants with their mistresses on February 13th. Now if I were dating anyone I would want to go to a fancy restaurant on the 13th and spy on all the (non) couples.
This is my new favorite Dear Old Love post.
Are these anti-theft lunch bags brilliant or disgusting? I'm leaning toward brilliant.
Via Schmutzie there are a bunch of links but click on the one that talks about the employment rant on Craig's List. If I could talk like that during an interview I'd have had a lot better jobs. That's language I'm comfortable with.
According to Gothamist a NJ library is accepting canned food donations for a charitable drive as payment for book fines. I think this is inspired. Given the tanking economy we're headed toward a barter system anyway and this is a nice start.
The cake decorations from my mammogram did not look like these.
In contrast to all the kid-praising articles I had in my last linkfest we have this article. It's also a useful read for anyone who thinks that NYC is a cesspool made entirely of leftie liberals.
This link is really mostly just for Zelda and Arnie. We all used to go to a great theatre in Saginaw, MI where the organ was played by a woman who could be the wife of the dude in this link.
My friend, Paul, gets a shout out in this interview. I can't wait to see him in this play.
OK, that's plenty, frankly it's more than I should have done, I know. I got on a roll. It still only brings me back to January 24th. The internet has a ton of awesome stuff on it. I want you all to know about it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I'm headed out for a lot of socialization today. I'm weary. I love my people, I really do, but it's cold and I'm tired and just a tiny bit discouraged in general so I kind of just wish I could hibernate. I've RSVP'd and I've made bread and cookies and appointments so that's not in the cards. I know I'll have fun when I get out there. Before I go I'm going to toss out a few more links for you. Not too many.
Friday, January 30, 2009
The mammogram went just fine. A few little things I thought I'd note for you, though.
The woman stuck little cake decorations on my nipples. The silver ball kind that you can break your teeth on, you know? (Auntie, you're welcome for that image.) Is that a new thing? I don't remember that from the last couple of these I've done.
The registration process was super quick and efficient. In the few seconds I sat at the desk while the registration lady typed I looked at her calendars. One was pretty, pretty flowers and the other was made up of those inspirational posters. I noticed that they were both promotional items. The pretty flowers one was from a funeral home. Not inspiring confidence.
The squishing was not so bad. Either saggy breasts are better for mammogramming or it really does depend on the technician. So, if you had a bad experience I suggest trying again, it might not be so bad! I didn't even stub my toe.
I forgot my camera. I suppose that shouldn't matter but there were a few priceless images. For one, the view from the mammo room is spectacular. You can see the Statue of Liberty! More importantly I wanted to show you the HUGE breaker box that serves as outlet for the machine. It's so big it has one of those Frankenstein switches you need two hands to flip. Doesn't seem like such a brilliant idea to be offering up your tender bits to something with that much electricity running through it.
Again in the interest of encouraging everyone to do their mammographical duty I want to say that the worst part of the whole experience was unsticking the nipply cake decorations. Seriously medical adhesive people, what the fuck?!
Yeah, I'm spending a goodly portion of my day today getting my boobs smashed on purpose. Whee.
Mother's a survivor, I'm 40, lumpy breasts, blah, blah, blah healthcare cakes.
Since I don't have a flower photo for you yet I leave you with this image: I have very small breasts and very big feet. You see the challenge?
I think it's really going to hurt when I stub my toe.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The power cord on my laptop has become moody. Sometimes it conveys power and sometimes, eh, not so much. Last time, not having any idea what was going on nor what I was in for, it went, I panicked and went directly to the Apple Store. Turns out that method costs nearly $100.
This time I've got a little heads up and I'm figuring that I can maybe buy something off Ebay for a bit less and have it in my own personal stock before the current cord takes its swan dive. I don't think I've ever bought anything off Ebay before.
Anything I should know or look for or be careful of before I take this leap?
This week I have been consuming the internet like 2 all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun. I have to share. I know linky posts are weird but I have to share. Please let me share. Come on please?
Eh, you know what? I'm gonna do it anyway.
Firstly I have made my way through the finalists for the Ninth Annual Weblog Awards. Despite a vow earlier this year to pare down my Google Reader, sites have been added and fun has been had. People ask me all the time how I find the blogs I read. No small part of my blogroll has been discovered by tiptoeing through nominees for different blogging awards. There's a lot of good stuff in there this year.
Kath linked to a bunch of things having to do with the Beatles. I think you'll like them all. George Harrison doing a pirate song? I know. Go look. I took the "freakishly accurate" Beatles quiz and I came up a John (heh) but it turns out I don't know enough about the Beatles to know if that's freakishly accurate or not. You experts out there (I know you're out there) should feel free to let me know.
One of the blogs I got hooked on from the Weblog Awards is Dear Old Love. It's short, one or two sentence, letters to old loves. Here are some of my favorites.
Mighty Goods linked to a book called "The Guide to Doing Me." It's like a baby book for your sexy body...or something. You fill in your preferences so a partner can study up before making a ghastly error or wasting your time or, I don't know, figuring it out him or herself. While it's an interesting idea I feel one should beware the date who says, "Here's something to read while I go slip into something more comfortable."
You guys! According to Gothamist (and a number of other reputable sources I'm sure) the Post Office is considering a cost-cutting measure of reducing the number of delivery days in the week! I got a little pit of fear in my stomach when I heard that. MY NETFLIX! I love to get mail, like stupid love it, and I try to write people letters and send cards so I have a chance of getting some back. I also have an elaborate Netflix strategy for getting the most movies out of my week. This will blow all of that to hell! On the other hand I know that other countries (the UK) have this sort of arrangement and I know that Canada Post is a lot less reliable than Kevin Costner at a low point in his career so I guess I should count myself lucky I can count on the USPS at all.
Up until yesterday I had no clue that Iceland's entire government has been collapsing for months now. Whoops. Honest, I really did think I was paying attention but apparently not the right kind. Anyway, shortly after that I learned that what government there is has appointed the first openly gay world leader, Joanna Sigurdardottir. She will head up the staggering country at least until their emergency elections in May. Lemons to lemonade perhaps. We shall see.
Oh, hey, check it out, Kath's back again! She posted a link to the video of the Thriller routine she and Alex were in at Halloween. Mighty timely considering all the hoopla around town about Thriller: The Musical and its attendant lawsuits.
Buried in this Curbed regular feature about shopping that I never read is a great story about teenagers. A smallish group of them has apparently gotten off your lawn and is now helping New York City to crack down on shop owners who sell nicotine products to people who are underage. That warms the cockles of my heart. I want to bake them cookies and give them a big old hug that smells like denture cream and Gold Bond.
I bet you're not going to be surprised that I think "He's Just Not That Into You" is a crock of a book and that I'm super pissed that some of my favorite people (Justin Long) are associated with the movie being made of it. I have not, however, given it as much brain space as the smart chicks at Feministing. They bring up a lot of complicated and really interesting points. I hope this doesn't mean I have to see the movie, though.
Another kid who deserves to have homemade birthday cake is Kemoy Gourzang. He found a wallet with a lot of cash in it and took it immediately to a responsible adult. For his efforts he received a generous reward. This alone is awesome and makes me hopeful for all sorts of things in the future but the best part is how he's going to spend that reward. I won't spoil it, you go look. If you don't tear up just a little you might be dead inside. I know I say that a lot but this time I really mean it.
Whew, OK, and that only gets us back to Tuesday. I think there might be another one of these in our future. Our very near future. This is enough for now, though, right?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I learned something while Bobby was here over the holidays. I mean, I always learn something while he's around but usually it's about him since he's so different from Emily and leagues different from his predecessor, Cameron. This time, though, in addition to learning about him I learned something about me.
Up to quite recently Emily has been content to kick Bob's ass up and down the furniture for hours on end with brief breaks to lick out his jowls, the doggie equivalent of washing your mouth out with soap, I believe. When we walked they walked at the same pace with her often shouldering him out of the way or beating him to a particularly fragrant pee spot. This visit was not the same. She doesn't have the cornering skills to chase Bobby around the parquet floors nor the energy to beat him everywhere. For his part, though, he adjusted quite well. When we all walked together, as long as there wasn't a squirrel or cat in sight, he matched his pace to hers and was obedient and kind with nary a trace of the puppy I know lurks beneath. Then I took him to the park alone for some off leash time because if she wasn't going to put him through his paces someone needed to or there would be hell to pay. That dog was off like a shot, pulling and jumping and weaving and sniffing away with no regard for who was behind him until I gave him a "corrective jerk" or bellowed out some sort of command.
I haven't been to off leash time in years due to Em's...unpredictable personality. She likes a lot of dogs but the one's she doesn't she really doesn't like. She's never hurt anyone but she's provoked attacks on herself more times than I'm strictly comfortable with. So there was an adjustment period for me. It felt scary to unhook his leash and just let him go, trusting him to like me enough to come back. I'm not entirely stupid so I brought treats. He got a treat on the way, he got a treat before I took the leash off and within a minute of that I made sure to call him back for another treat. Never hurts to have something yummy fresh in one's mind.
Turns out Bobby doesn't really need a lot of dogs around. He'll go and say hi to some of them but that's not top on the agenda. I knew this, of course, Kath tells great stories about it, but I hadn't seen it in action. Bob does not like to chase balls, he doesn't chase Kongs, he doesn't chase other dogs. The boy likes a good stick. Boy does he like a good stick. If you throw a good sized stick he'll run after it, pin it down and turn it to mulch in short order. I learned quickly, though, that if you keep two sticks he will run after the first one, catch it then look back to see if you'll throw the second one. So I did. We leap frogged stick after stick like that for 20-40 minutes a visit no treats required and our full attention on each other.
This is how I found myself, early on the last morning of 2008, striding purposefully up a hill, breaking a sweat in the 15 degree weather while winging stick after stick before me. My form was poor, I whacked myself and the dog repeatedly and I was puffing like the Little Engine That Could but I was warm and I was having a pretty good time. I thought to myself, "This is why I don't need no stinking stairmaster." Then I thought, "No, really this is why I don't need a stairmaster!" A dog is the only piece of exercise equipment required.
Back in the day, when Em was young and off leash and incorrigible, I first heard the phrase "A tired dog is a good dog." I was so offended. I thought it didn't give a dog enough credit or that it was somehow cruel. I'll say it before you do, I was stupid, I know that now. The thing is I still contend that the phrase should be "A tired dog is a happy dog" and happy dogs are far, far better behaved than the alternative. Fewer things in my house got chewed, fewer cat-related altercations were to be had, fewer dollars worth of stolen food were discovered when my young, energetic, working dog was properly exercised. You know who else was properly exercised as a result? You betcha! I can't believe all the exercise potential I wasted when we had a backyard and just let them go out there to beat each other up. Backyard time was not enough for my young shepherd and her young border collie companion. They were too easy on each other. I should have been walking their asses all over Brooklyn on a regular basis. It's no wonder they almost pulled me into traffic and they ate my hat and stole an entire pizza! I deserved every bad action because I wasn't giving them what they needed. Live and learn, eh?
I don't need to go to off leash but I know that, given the extreme bad attitude of my cats, Bob does when he's with me. If he's tired and calm and not playing into their bull we all do better. But wow, I felt pretty good about missing my dance class after my discovery. I also realized that an older dog is a bit like a broken down treadmill. You're still going to be able to use it for exercise but that burning smell is going to cut down on the length of the workout. Today, with 2 inches of mostly unshoveled snow on the ground, it took 10 feet before Emily's morning walk was slowed to a crawl. She was happy to be there but in no hurry and even the 10 pound boots on my feet weren't going to bring me into "feel the burn" territory. That's OK, I didn't get her for the exercise potential and I know plenty of dogs I can borrow if I need some motivation. Next time (though there will never be a next time since she will live forever, she promised) I will know better. I'll do better by me and better by the dog.
Need to get your heart rate up daily? Go on out and adopt a (spayed and/or neutered) dog. It won't be cheaper than a treadmill but it's going to look a whole lot nicer in your living room.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
'Cause I've got plenty of questions. Plenty plenty!
1. I went into an Aerosoles store because they are having a ginormous sale and I do like their shoes and they're terribly comfortable I found that they are making (basically) my funeral-9/11 shoes again. Huzzah! Why are those shoes one of 3 styles in the store that are not discounted? (Related question: Can I justify $69 x 3 to get a pair in every color?)
2. Why is bacon so good?
3. How come, more often than not, MAB says what I want to say, only clearer and with reputable examples?
4.Why, even when I am doing something nice, does it often come out a little backhanded? (That's for you, sir, sorry about that, I re-read the comment and was mortified. I wrote poorly and I apologize.)
5. Why do I keep making such a big deal out of my PPP posts that I fail to finish them?
6. Did you know that you can go up to the courtesy desk at the Midtown Branch of the NYPL and just hand over books as a donation? Pretty cool. I'm going to do it today.
7. Will people be turned off by another "Cleaning Out My Starred Items Folder" post?
8. Do you remember when life was so tender that dreams were kept beside your pillow?
9. Where in my apartment did I put my moisturizer?
10. Are we meant to actually believe all the things that happen in Augusten Burroughs' books or are we meant to understand the bare bones and expected to delight in the madness of a man who embellishes them in these ways?
Bonus: Wow, did I make it to 10 already? I've got a lot more questions.
If it's true that we shouldn't be looking for answers but trying to ask the right questions then I figure the more questions we ask the more likely we are to hit on the right ones.
1. Why does Creme Anglais sound so fancy but English Cream just sounds dirty?
2. I asked this of Facebook yesterday but I think it still applies. If, hypothetically, you were being impeached from your big fancy political job in a very windy state would you attend the proceedings or would you fly to New York and talk to Regis & Kelly about hair products? (I have since learned that there is a certain precariously positioned yet impeccably coiffed governor whose staff carries his hair brush around in a special case and refers to it as "The Football." Yes, like the nuclear launch codes. No, I'm not kidding.)
3. Who invented liquid soap and why?
4. Why has my dog been starving herself for months? She'll eat a certain, very small, amount of food out of her dish and then she'll eat almost twice that amount but only if you feed it to her 2-3 pieces at a time by hand. I don't think it's neck pain because she's contorting herself to do other stuff. I don't think it's other pain (legs, teeth) because she'll still eat the kibble. Perhaps she's simply starved for attention. (Aaaaand, as soon as I wrote that this theory got blown out of the water because she turned up her nose [literally] at kibble from my loving fingers so I'm going to have to assume that it's not zebras she's just not hungry.)
5. How come I got out of bed at the same time today as yesterday, took the same shower, applied the same fancy body creme, put on the same robe, used the same deodorant and wound up getting out of the bathroom almost 10 minutes later than yesterday?
6. How come yodeling is so deliciously funny even when it's being lip synced?
7. How come a lot of people don't understand that the clock on the next terrorist attack on US soil started somewhere around 11am on September 11, 2001 not 2 days ago when the wheels were set in motion to close Guantanamo Bay? You guys know it takes a long time to plan one of these things, right? 1993 - 2001? Long time, and they didn't even have to change targets. Now they'll have to change targets, even if it's only another spot in the same city.
8. How come my DVR keeps changing how it does things? Used to be that when you turned it on it was on the same channel you'd left when last you turned it off. Now it always turns on to channel 1. Still, if you changed the channel and were on, say, channel 12 when you started watching a recorded show it'd still be on channel 12 when you stopped watching the recorded show. Now it's back to channel 1 OR, inexplicably, onto a channel that you're recording something else on. I didn't change any settings, to my knowledge. I am confused.
9. Why did I insert a sort of heavy, controversial item (see #7) into a generally light, funny meme? I'm never going to get a ROFL award this way!
10. Is there anything you'd like to ask me? That's what the comments section is for.
Monday, January 26, 2009
- Salmon baked with soy sauce and maple syrup
- Broccoli roasted with olive oil, cardamom and cumin
- Carrots roasted with olive oil and herbs de provence
- Cous cous (do you know how insanely FAST making cous cous is?)
Served at one's desk while wearing a turtleneck with newly discovered holes in the neck and a cardigan hand knit by a friend of thirty-nine and a half years.
Delicious and within the parameters of "The Program."
I find that since I've lost the ability to use my iPod as an alarm my brain fills in for it. I wake up nearly every morning with a song in my head. Some days are weirder than others. This morning it was Mark Allen Berube's Grandma Gave Me The Finger Today. It's a political anthem. No, really, it is.
What's in your brain today?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I'm working through pictures, more pictures, many pictures. That and ordering groceries, oh and returning a big old hand truck I've had for months, is all I've done today.
We're back into stuff well before Christmas, so if you're feeling nostalgic for the holidays already these will help.
When will I be done? I don't know. But I'm hoping I can get all caught up tonight because I'd like to move the desktop computer off the coffee table and back to its home base.
Hey, you wanna do something nice for someone today without leaving your chair? Go leave a comment over at Kath's place. She's had a dearth of comments and we could give her a little thrill. Since she gave me cannoli that I ate for breakfast this morning I'd like to make her day sweet, too. Scroll through and find an entry that speaks to you, she's eclectic, that one.
Friday, January 23, 2009
My tendency is to make my FFF photo something bright and fun, something upbeat. Especially this time of year it's instinctual to use the choice of photo to stave off the oppression of the season. This one's a little more honest. I must have taken it a couple of weeks before Christmas, not sure what time. I think I was on my way out somewhere but I don't know where. This is what winter looks like.
My day is...not too crazy. I'll go to class, maybe pick up some food, do laundry (it's that or go naked) and hopefully get myself over to the East Village to listen to Alex play for a bit.
What are you up to and how are you keeping warm?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
When I developed the disposable cameras from my party I also turned in a couple of rolls of film I had leftover. I finally processed all of those pictures. Everything is posted to Flickr now. These two are my favorites but there are a lot that I like. This also marks the honest-to-goodness conclusion of the Mark Allen Berube Photoshoot set.
It seems that Clemo and I could both use an introductory course in the delete key today. Whoops.
Also seems as though I was wrong about POTUS' LGBT stance. JRH pushed me a little and I admitted to not doing a ton (any) research. So I went off and did a little research, if by research you mean IM'd Audio Girl and asked her what the dude stood for. She popped me over to the official Probama (tm. Me) site's section about such things.
Lots of good gravy in that list. I hope he's able to make strides with it. (Mmmm, walking in gravy. I'm hungry.) I'm interested in why they chose to put "Empower Women to prevent HIV/AIDS" in the LGBT issues section but perhaps it also shows up in other places. I haven't fully explored the site yet. So, I'll keep working on it but I figured if we all had the link we could cover the ground a lot faster. Feel free to tell me a bunch of stuff I don't know. I'll do the same for you.
(OK, while linking things I did find a Women section on the site and it also includes the HIV/AIDS info. I feel I better understand now.)
It would seem prudent, as I have been stomping like Godzilla all over the internet this morning, to explain that this morning's grammar post was inspired by the asswipe that gunned it through a light to try and run me over in the crosswalk.
I said out loud (as you've seen previously), "Niiiiice. Dick."
Then I had a 20 minute walk in an optimistic outfit for temperatures in the low 20s before wind chill so I distracted myself by crafting a little grammatical post for people who disrespect simple rules.*
Yup. Welcome to my creative process. Please try to keep the yawning and snoring to a minimum.
*I should note that, as a distraction from freezing your furbies off, grammar makes a poor blanket. Anger makes you much, much warmer.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I'm about to address the "I'm reserving judgment on Obama until _____" people (and there are a lot of you and some of you have been fucking jawing in my ear all fucking day, so yes, a little bitter and bored, oh so bored). It's gonna get ranty. You have been warned.
So, your phrasing would imply that you haven't yet formed an opinion on the man. May I wish you well in your recovery. I hear that coming out of a coma of such extended duration is a delicate and difficult transition. Here's hoping you return to your former vigor as soon as possible. FYI, President Obama has been on the campaign trail for a little over 2 years. You'll find plenty of information on the internet to give you the back story as the front story evolves.
OK, in all seriousness, if you were all reserved yesterday and continue to make tight ass comments about your all-important judgment and when you will deign to dole it out then you have missed the boat. The man has been elected and he has, for just over 24 hours, been at the helm of an enormous ship in grave danger of sinking like the proverbial stone. The only direction for him to go at this point is down. Yesterday, and perhaps all the days between November 4th and yesterday, were for celebrating a change. We have seen not just the relief of the departure of a president with a well-deserved all time low approval rating but the evolutionary leap of a non-white candidate winning the highest office in our land. No more will "you can be anything you want to be" be a lie. Well, not for little boys at least.
I happen to think our president has more going for him than being black and not being the guy he replaced. I don't, however, think he's perfect. I never received a ticket to Obamapalooza or Obamarama or Obama Does Dallas or any of the other liberal orgies that plague the nightmares of the antibamas in the world. My fanatacism is limited mostly to fine writers and performers. Apparently there are some Obamaniacs out there who have sparked 1,000 late night snarks about POTUS' ability to walk on water while turning it into wine. I have yet to meet one but many a judgment reserving skeptic has told me they are all but littering the streets of America. The supporters I know are impressed with Obama's thoughtfulness and hungry for his message of hope. They are not, however, delusional. He's silently but strongly anti-gay, he's inheriting the mother lode of problems and he doesn't have a dog's age of experience backing him up. He's going to make mistakes. He's going to find that we are in holes he can't dig us out of. I believe, though, that he will keep trying to forge solutions and he will have the long view and the nationwide community's well-being in the forefront of his mind. Not that my beliefs or judgments mean any more than the next guy's.
For all of those reasons, all of those possible, nay probable, disappointments and setbacks we have yet to endure, you blew a grand opportunity yesterday with your reservation. You missed the chance to rejoice, quite briefly, in the potential this new administration embodies. Unless you work for Halliburton the last 8 years have not left you better off than you were before the Bush-Cheney Three Ring pitched its tent so, regardless of the percentage of your conviction in the Obama plan, there is conceivably a cautious optimism in the symbolic moving forward that the inauguration of a new president, almost any new president, implies.
The ship has sailed now. The grindstone awaits our noses. The confetti has all been swept up and Ms. Franklin's glorious hat is wrapped carefully in tissue and stored on a high shelf. The celebration is over.
And you elected to miss it.
Hey look, the first ring in my ring-of-the-month club arrived last week! It's a little washed out in this photo so not showing off its true brilliance. Thanks Chili!
Secondly, to all of you who looked at the photos of my party and commented on how stunning Audio Girl is she would like to see your psychiatric evaluations. She asked me to take a picture of her "right now!" to prove you wrong. I'll be posting her psychiatric evaluation later in the day because she's pure-i-dee nuts if she doesn't see how lovely she is (this particular photo notwithstanding).
Lastly, happy first day of the rest of our lives.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I like taking pictures to record important days. Bless the digital age for the ability to do this simply and cheaply.
So I made a little photo set of my day over at Flickr and I hope you'll check it out. Some things are POTUS-specific and some are not. I've kept everything in its straight out of the camera state.
Auntie, you want to click through, there's one in there just for you.
1. Chili is at the Inauguration. You can check her blog for updates from her coolio iPhone.
2. There are police barriers outside one of the bigger churches in my neighborhood. I assumed that they were for some sort of MLK related event but they were still stacked against the fence today. Must be for something about the Inauguration.
3. I wish I'd thought to arrange to stay home today but I didn't. I'm DVRing like much of the rest of the world.
4. It's not just the church, my neighborhood has all sorts of stuff going on to celebrate today. Discounts and drinks and broadcasts of the events.
5. I know we're not supposed to talk about this but I'm a little uneasy about today's festivities. I know he's got good security but anything can happen, right? And look what Reagan did to Carter in the last moments of the turnover so I fear what the Bush folk will do in their last hours.
6. I know that some people are afraid of the day for entirely different, even opposite, reasons. On the one hand I hope they get 8 years of terror to balance out my last 8 years but that's not a very Obama-like response. So, on the other hand I hope they are able to channel their fear into working the Obama system with the rest of us so we can all benefit. Or something.
7. I don't know if the folks in my office will tune in to the Inauguration. Very few of them are qualified to vote in the US and I'm not certain that the others threw their full weight behind the Democratic Party...if you know what I mean.
8. The only other Inauguration I remember watching is the Carter-Reagan turnover. I was in 6th grade and we were herded into a room for it. I remember braiding someone's hair. So apparently my devotion to politics started early.
9. I didn't realize the concert was last night so I missed it. Oops.
10. What are you doing today? Is it Inauguration-related?
Monday, January 19, 2009
The title of this post won't make any sense to you until you see the episode of which I speak.
As if the internet hadn't heard enough from me already today I couldn't let this week's episode of How I Met Your Mother pass without comment. You can read all my various comments over at PPP.
The 26th Prompt is about fears. Sometimes I feel like San Diego Momma lives in my head. It's a wonder she can find space to put her drink down.
I’m afraid of everything. Every day is an overcoming of fears. I don’t know where to start. I’m afraid this building will collapse on me. I’m afraid the plane that’s flying overhead is going to drop a bomb on my head. I’m more recently afraid that that plane flying overhead will be used as a bomb and someone will drop it, or something it runs into, on my head. I’m afraid of flying, heights, dating, auditions, certain friends and family members and of vomiting.
Two Christmases ago found me kneeling in a friend’s bathroom puking my guts up without the edge of a good drunk to dull the horror. Does that count as getting over a fear? I don’t think it does.
Oh god and I didn’t even mention the snakes. I’m afraid of snakes. Very. Also elevators. If I’m in an elevator and it slows down or speeds up or takes an unusually long time to do anything I get a big old fight or flight response. If you’re the person in that elevator verbally freaking out I’ll probably choose fight and knock your block off.
I’m trying very hard to think of something I’ve conquered. The dark, I’m afraid of the dark, haven’t conquered it, though. I conquered flying by just reveling in that first moment of take off. It’s so miraculous and feels so cool so I concentrate on that then pretend I’m on a train for the rest of the flight. Mostly I just keep my head down and try to do the things I’m meant to do in life. As long as I don’t let the fear control me then I can allow it a little space in my head to fuck around, go skateboarding or whatever.
Fear Goes Skateboarding, title of my memoir now.
I think I wrote a short story about this once but I only have 10 minutes so I’m not going to go looking for that and posting it here. Plus I think previously written stuff is probably cheating since it doesn’t exactly get the creative juices flowing.
I arranged to meet an illicit partner (can you be an illicit partner, I suppose you can) at a particular bar on a particular corner in a particular section of NYC. I waited with my modest but expensive drink for over an hour before he finally showed up. We’ll never know if I told him the wrong corner or if he wasn’t listening or if he was lying or if I’m plain old crazy but he claimed that he’d been waiting just a block away for just the same amount of time. I know him, I know him so well, he may have been waiting some time but I’m sure it was less time than I was waiting because he is notoriously late to everything.
So he arrived and he joked a little with an “is this seat taken” sort of vibe and I ran with it. I pretended I’d never met him and I was being stood up by some ass and would love for someone to buy me a drink. He wobbled. Then he rallied and we had, in essence, the whole argument about who should have been where when but we had it in the characters of these 2 other people once removed from the problem. It was both bizarre and marvelous at the same time. I was mad, so mad, but I didn’t want to be all mad and crazy at him. Illicit, remember, we didn’t get that much time together and when confronted with mad he goes immediately to threat level LAWYER and I never win an argument against that. This way, though, we hashed it all out. Finally, when he was exhausted from playing things my way, the role playing way, we grabbed our things and left. We left, the real people and we talked about how we were mad and sorry and starving. Then we kissed and got some dinner.
I think sometimes that I don’t argue well. I do actually but I know a lot of people with a lot more experience at it. I do, however, argue more creatively than most and when I know enough to work that to my advantage I am unstoppable. I learned a lot from that guy, some really hard lessons, too, but the most useful ones have been about how to stand up for myself and still get a kiss and some dinner.
Yeah I went from a prompt about a corn field pretty much straight to a dildo. No, I don't know how. Sometimes that sort of thing just happens. (Right up to "plastic bottle" is the prompt.)
“You are in a corn field, with your dog, when all of a sudden, a plastic bottle comes floating down from above, gently, gently it sails down into your outstretched hand. Grasp the bottle in your fist. Here you go. When I saw ‘wake up’ you will bring the bottle to your mouth and drink deeply. One, two, three wake up!” urged the hypnotist, snapping her fingers.
In the audience Gerri groaned and slid ever further into her seat. She’d had a feeling that a blind date with a guy you meet in a Halloween costume shop would be a bad idea but she’d gone anyway. Everyone kept telling her she was too closed off, she never took a chance and eventually those sorts of things make an impression. She’d just gotten off the phone with her sister, Franki, and still had, “If you never take it out for a spin eventually the batteries will just die!” Ringing in her ears when she rounded the Star Wars section and ran into Jed.
Yeah, Jed. He seemed nice enough and she, herself, was shopping for a movie-themed character (Lara Croft) so it seemed rude to judge. Two weeks later sitting in the back row of a crappy magic show watching her date take a deep pull of fresh, sparkling dildo and it didn’t seem rude at all. Judging seemed not only not rude but down right self preservational and she planned to do a lot more of it in the very near future.
I love her because her prompts are things I do anyway.
CRAZY LIKE KIZZ
INT. EVE. Enter KIZZ wearing full winter gear, carrying backpack & mail, talking on cell phone.
KIZZ: Really? Yup. Sure. Yup.
Enter CATS (2, adult, tiger striped) meowing loudly and weaving through KIZZ’s legs. KIZZ drops keys, gloves and hat on dining table.
KIZZ: Hey kittens. Shh. (into phone) What? No, you go right ahead. No. NO! Sorry, must be my phone connection, Auntie, I can hear you fine, though.
Enter DOG (1, ancient) doing the pee dance.
KIZZ: (to DOG) One second, just one second. (into phone) No, no, you go right ahead, I heard you. Enema. Poked it right up there. Go on!
KIZZ goes to kitchen, looks in fridge, finds nothing, goes to dining room, sets mail on table, opens a letter, sets down back pack.
DOG head butts KIZZ.
KIZZ: Right. Sorry! (into phone) yes, I’m very sorry, it sounds awful. I really should…
KIZZ goes to closet, gets leash, comes back to table. KIZZ goes back to closet, gets plastic bags, stuffs them in pockets, comes back to table. KIZZ puts on hat, gloves, takes off gloves, puts leash on dog, puts gloves on. CAT knocks keys off table. KIZZ takes off gloves, crawls under table, retrieves keys. CAT knocks KIZZ’s hat off.
KIZZ: (into phone) Auntie. Auntie? Auntie! I’m really sorry I should go. I have to walk the dog. (Pause). She’s fine. Getting older, you know, needs to go out more often.
KIZZ puts hat on, picks up keys, grabs gloves.
KIZZ: Auntie I’m going to have to sign off now. (Pause) Sign off. (Pause) SIGN OFF! (Pause). Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, it must be the connection on my phone. You’re right I should get a new one. I really do need to go…
DOG pees on floor.
KIZZ (muttering) never mind.
OPENING CREDITS by Deirdre Flint.
Poetry. Again. I know. I'm not against poetry I just balk at the writing of it. SDM anticipated that and wrote it into the prompt. So I plunged ahead. 3 of the lines in the following poem were dictated by the prompt. Just three, though.
The delicious fragility of this travesty
Where we still laugh and wish
Makes my heart incautious
I tie a ribbon in a foolish way
The exquisite instability of this fraternity
Where we still shout and rage
Makes my breath come searing
I throw my weight in a furious way
The excruciating singularity of this finality
Where I still dream and hope
Makes my soul desolate
I grasp nothing in a futile way
She lifted the time and length restrictions on this one. It was fun, too. I'm saying fun a lot today but it's true, can't leave out the truth. I'm supposed to tell a story so here's the story my brain told me to tell you:
Long ago and far away there was a girl name Becky-Ann. She danced at all the town dances, she worked in the general store and she did her washing on Saturday mornings, early so there’d be a whole day for her sheets to dry on the line. She hadn’t been born there but no one remembered when she’d arrived. It can’t have been that long ago. She was friendly and fun. Everyone knew about her Uncle Pete and the time he’d accidentally blown up his Christmas tree. Her family was up north, she visited occasionally, never staying long but coming back with more stories. Stories make you popular in a small town where all the local news makes the rounds in under an hour.
One Saturday in late August Becky-Ann’s wash didn’t show up on the line. That night at the dance her boots didn’t hit the floor. Mrs. Jenkins, the post mistress, hadn’t heard that Becky-Ann was going visiting so Mrs. Lauder sent her eldest, Jenny, to make sure things were all right.
“She’s not there.” Jenny reported.
“What do you mean she’s not there?” her mother pressed. “Did you look in the window?”
“Yes ma’am. I knocked and knocked and when she didn’t come I looked in the window and I couldn’t see her.”
“Which window?” Mrs. Jenkins urged, “The one in the front by the parlor or the one out back where you can see through the pantry into the kitchen?”
“Both, ma’am.” The girl was definite about her story but she still seemed nervous. “Mama?”
“The back door was open a crack. I thought maybe I should go in so I could check upstairs but I didn’t want to trespass so…”
“Oh my lord!” gasped Mrs. Jenkins.
“Go get your father.” Mrs. Lauder ordered.
Fred Lauder took a small group of men over to Becky-Ann’s place. No one had a weapon at the dance so Slim Gorter grabbed a rake from his front yard on the way over. Someone joked him about it but they were all glad there was something to hand.
At first they all fanned out around the house looking in the windows the way Jenny had done. Finally, though, they all ended up in the same place, staring at the back door. It was ajar all right, not more than a couple of inches but enough that if Becky-Ann had been home she’d have noticed.
“Guess we better go in.” Fred said.
“Want me to go first?” Slim offered shyly.
“Best not to spook her if she’s in there.” Someone offered from the back.
“I’ll go.” Fred decided and in he went.
Becky-Ann wasn’t a neatnick or anything but she kept a nice house. There were always flowers on the table and you never came up against a dust bunny if your sewing needle rolled under her couch. The men weren’t surprised that everything was in its place. They were, in fact, a little relieved. On the other hand, though, there weren’t any flowers.
After traipsing upstairs, the world’s slowest, most boring parade, they decided an even closer look might be needed. No Becky-Ann, not in any corner of the house. No toothbrush in the bathroom, no hair brush in the bedroom and the sheets looked old. Clean, of course, but not sheets anyone would bother with if they didn’t have to.
Back downstairs the icebox was empty. The cupboards and shelves had canned goods but no fruits or vegetables. The place was like a slate wiped clean or a pair of pants hung up and waiting for someone to wake up and slide them on. Slim suggested they look for a note and they did, hunting out in the open and then in less likely places. No note appeared in the flue or behind the chair or out in the shed by her gardening tools.
It was a hard message to bring back to the dance.
“What do you mean nothing?” Mrs. Lauder asked for the 5th or 6th time.
“Not nothing exactly,” her husband replied, “Just nothing she couldn’t live without. She’s not there and I reckon she’s not coming back. Least not any time soon.”
“I don’t understand!” cried Mrs. Jenkins.
“I don’t either.” Said Fred, “but you can go by there yourselves tomorrow and then we’ll all be misunderstanding the same thing.”
By sunup on Sunday Becky-Ann’s bare feet were nearly black with dust but she didn’t care. She walked along an old dirt road with a spring in her step and a song on her lips. Her legs felt tight like she’d been dancing all night long with Slim or Jerry or even little Jenny Lauder but her heart felt loose and free.
I've hit Prompt #20! It's a goodie. It's also from Back-to-School time. So behind and so having fun catching up!
I was telling Auntie about this the other day. Every year for back-to-school Auntie Blanche would take us school clothes shopping. When we were little it was at The Globe, a local department store. Probably exactly what Wal-mart is based on. The kids clothes were on the right as you entered, just past the rubbery smell of knock off slip on sneakers. I remember my first big decision about clothing. There was a money limit and, I guess, up to this point no one had ever hit it. You could get a lot of clothes at The Globe without breaking the bank. I had to decide between something (no idea what) and a gauzy, cream colored, floor length, empire waist dress with beaded ties at the neck. I loved that dress. I don’t think Auntie Blanche did. She gave me a lot of practical advice and let me know I could have one outfit or the other but I’d better wear whichever one I chose. I did. Well, I think I did. In my mind my 8-year-oldish self wore the hell out of that fake Native American dress. I loved it with all the fervor of the disco era and I felt like Diana Ross in it. I can’t swear to it but I’ll bet you a dollar that someday I’ll find it still buried in my mom’s house.
Write a synopsis for a romantic comedy? How did she know? I do this all the time!
Rachel Gordon thought the hardest part about working at her mother’s fertility clinic would be handing out the sample cups without giggling. Her mother, however, has other ideas. Soon Rachel finds herself being bombarded with flowers, candy and medical histories as Judy Gordon wages a campaign to get her daughter the best man genetics can find.
Enter bike messenger, Todd Lane. He’s under employed, under dressed and loving every minute of it. What he thinks is going to be a quick $50 for a genetic deposit turns into the moment his life begins to take shape.
Starring Leisha Hailey, Mark Ruffalo and Sally Field “All Your Eggs in One Basket” will make you want to hug your mother, just to shut her up.
This one was to re-write a certain poem. I didn't want to do it. I considered skipping it since this is only prompt #18 and the current prompt is in the 30s. Then, of course, I had a lot of fun dashing this off.
This is just to say
I was home when you called
The phone rang
And I got to it in plenty of time.
I had my glasses
I read the caller ID
But Fringe was on
And Josh Jackson was talking
I hope you left a message
He’ll stop soon
SDM posted this prompt in the heat of the summer and here I am during one of the coldest weeks of the year finally getting around to it. I tried to bring the heat anyway, though. The assignment was about being very specific.
His kisses were like being bathed in Pepsi. No matter what the day or time he tasted of sugary syrup skimmed off the top of an icy fountain drink. Lips a gentle pink, not wet or dry just supple enough to skim mine leading into the straight, chicklet teeth that nibbled and scraped and maddened me. But the taste, like licking the inside of a freshly emptied can of soda. So like childhood yet in strict contrast to distracting things being done below our mouths. Once the Pepsi-mouth trailed all the way down my arm. Starting at the hinge of my jaw it wove a complicated path along collar bone to shoulder tickling a line inside to the elbow and nibbling there until I squirmed away for the excess of delight. Later, bleary with lack of sleep and ecstasy, one arm flung high across the pillow I turned my head and smelled him. It wasn’t him, just the sweet trail left in the crook of my joint, a sugar tattoo to remind me of the naked, drunken feast on which we’d gorged ourselves.
Here's the next PROMPTuesday. She told us to write a complaint letter. Fortunately I'd been writing one in my head for 2 days.
Dear L Word Ladies,
I don’t think I could have hated the season finale of Season 5 any more if you had animated a bunch of bananas rapping a geometry proof. Oh my god the suck was so complete. No, I don’t understand why Shane is besties with Intolerable Jenny (IJ) but she is. I didn’t make it that way, you did! So to have Shane drown her sorrows in someone IJ loves is unworthy of the character. Good GOD women, you have no loyalty to plot or to language or to timeline at least have some loyalty to the characters your audience is devoted to. Shane brings you the straight girls because straight girls think she’s delicious (I don’t understand why I just know it to be true) and she brings you the lesbian girls because they so love to hate her because she’s getting all the girls they wish they had. Do not randomly kneecap such a lucrative character! I know I’m an Alice, I know I’m not getting a Shane, like, ever but I can still love her from afar and this whole setting her up to knock her down thing over and over is deeply, deeply dissatisfying. Cut it out.
I want a do over and I want it now. Go away and come back in Season 6 (which I realize is over, I’m watching on DVD, I can’t afford Showtime) and make it all better. As apology I will take a swift and gory death for IJ. Seriously, if 6 is your last season then let’s give the audience what they really want.
Love (for Shane!)
There may be a lot of these today. This is San Diego Momma's PROMPTuesday exercise #15. I can't thank her enough for these!
I’m a liar.
I have carefully laid plans. I know which closet I’ll hide in if she comes home. I keep my watch and jewelry in my shoe so no one will ever find an earring between your sofa cushions. I slip into the building steps behind other tenants. Don’t want the doorman to notice me. I have to be far enough behind, though. Riding up with a neighbor could be disastrous. I take incoming calls only, never calling you. The e-mail address I have is the one you use to register on porn sites, not the one that you give to your daughter’s school.
I’m deceiving myself. Which is odd because I’m sure your wife would call you the liar. With me, though, you’re perfectly honest. I’ve been told this is as far as it goes. (Maybe a small part of me likes that.) So why do I keep waiting for the next step? There is no next step. This is a moment in time. I don’t think this is what the self-help books mean by “live in the moment.” One moment we’ve been living for over 2 years now.
I stand still on a cold corner waiting for the phone to ring and telling myself lies.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I've reached the end of my rope. I've gone back over a month into the photos. I've culled, I've improved, I've posted, I've commented. My hand looks like an audition for Captain Hook. I feel as though I've accomplished something. If you love puppies and my good friend MAB (I do!) you should go check out how I spent my day. (Not counting the episodes of ER, CSI, Mad Men, Legend of the Seeker etc. that I've watched. Oo, also not counting the time spent fiddling with things on Facebook...but not in a dirty way.)
Tomorrow I should write.
And cook brussels sprouts.
I've made myself a nest of electronics in my living room and I'm playing with photos and watching TV and trying to do enough things that can be at least marginally categorized as "accomplished" so I can justify my existence.
Go ahead and check out the Flickr if you want to see my results. At left, one of my favorites. Monroe in the middle of showing Zelda a "magic" trick.
Friday, January 16, 2009
I'll work on a FFF post for later today. It's going to be a busy day. Having just gone out to walk the dog, though, I'm revising my clothing allowance for today. Since it's cold all over let's all share, shall we? So, tell me baby, what are you wearing?
Granny panties, which I thought weren't so granny but it turns out I was justifying because they were comfortable because I was fat, they're really granny panties and with a girly floral pattern to boot
Fuzzy slipper socks
big woolen socks
tank top with shelf bra (shelf bra part not important but a fact so...)
dance leggings (underdressing for class, wish I was wearing my long johns instead but can't bear carrying more stuff)
long john type long sleeved top
jeans from my middling-fat period so my leggings fit underneath
Huge sweater with turtleneck and good ass coverage
Cool black belt bought in London
Clogs because they fit my big feet PLUS my two pair of socks
Scarf under my coat to protect chest*
Hat with ear flaps* (ear coverage and forehead coverage)
Scarf over my coat (dicy for the bespectacled among us but necessary)
Big bulky hand me down knock off brand dog walking coat with "fur" trimmed hood (mid-thigh length)
Gloves ("cashmere" Gap from a couple of years ago)
Mittens (handmade by Bebe many, many years ago)
Glasses (necessary but may be fused to my face after my walk to the train)
Watch (for seeing how much longer I get to stay inside)
*Denotes things to be added after failed experiment outfit for walking the dog.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Today is my dear Chili's birthday.
I thought and thought and thought.
There are no words, really.
I had to take a different approach.
A picture is, they say, worth a thousand words.
So here are things my girl loves and some that love her back.
Happy 40th birthday my dear!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I've begun to make a dent in the posting of party photos. You'll see people, you'll see action, you'll also see the results of my apartment's redecoration. You can flick through my Flickr or go straight to the 40th Birthday Set but whatever you do remember to check back frequently since I've got more cameras full of film to develop before we'll have seen it all!
Zelda picked this tiara because she said it looked the most like the one that Princess Diana wore at her wedding. (I first typed that as "at her funeral" hmmmmm.)
Not a traditionally flattering photo of any of the participants, though I think they look great, but it's the one that most perfectly expresses how much fun I had all night long.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
1. Thank goodness for Chinatown buses. They got MamaKizz, SoDivine and Queen Bee here in record time, all in one piece for cheap as cheap can be on Friday and returned them in like fashion on Sunday. Even the Bolt and Mega bus franchises don't afford the same kind of reliability and ease.
2. Zelda colored my hair! She bought me the stuff and gave me the directions but I was too scared and didn't have enough hands so, while we hung out on Sunday, she did it for me. What kind of friend am I that makes people travel all this way and then puts them to work?
3. Speaking of hanging out on Sunday that was a rare birthday-extension treat, too. Zelda and Chrome came over then Arnie brought his family so we could have a mini-Michigan reunion of sorts. We even got Dionysus on the phone and talked to him. And it all just came together with no planning since I didn't know Zelda was coming so she hadn't made specific plans.
4. Pony Express and I went to dinner and out for a fancy drink on my actual birthday before we picked up the northern contingent at the bus. The fancy drink place hasn't been open that long so I've only been there a few times but I'm starting to get a feel for the place. There's one bartender in particular (part owner perhaps?) who is quite unbearably pompous. So much so that I have trouble not being snotty with him. Another guy made me a fabulous cocktail, though, a "Pop It" made with champagne and fresh cherries and some sort of cherry bitters or liqueur. I think I could have done with out that last ingredient but it was still very good.
5. My apartment is maybe a half hour away from being in its pre-party spiffed up condition. I plan on righting that tonight and then just living in it for a while. I can see things that need to be done now, follow on things, but I have no desire to create the mess that must be made to make the changes. Not yet anyway.
6. I absorbed my Netflix offerings yesterday after Zelda skipped town and, I know it's a straight girl boring old cliche, but I remain enthralled by Kate Moennig. Enthralled I tell you...among other things. Hence the photo.
7. I feel both incredibly old and no different at all. I think the incredibly old part is more about the headache I've been fighting for about 24 hours than anything else. It seems, finally, to be dissipating.
8. I have felt incredibly creatively charged this week but with all the great things happening I haven't been able to act on it. No time! Cleaning to do! Party! Friends! Now, the cleaning is usually something I would tell to go fuck itself if I wanted to write or take pictures but this week that was not to be and now I feel trapped in that space. Also? Got bumped out of Flickr on Yahoo and can't remember my username or password. Can't get yahoo to write me back with help, either, so perhaps we'll all be waiting a little longer for me to post photos.
9. Just got a huge load off my mind. Alita made me a card and told me specifically to look at it when I opened my gifts, which I didn't do until after the party. I haven't been able to find the card at all. Today, though, e-mail revealed it was wedged in Carmencita's bag and will be coming to me by snail mail.
10. I had a lot of fun for my birthday. Have I mentioned that lately?
Other folks are reporting on my birthday party, in case you want to check that out. (Yes, my birthday was so big it required foreign correspondents to properly cover the event. Just wait until I turn 60!)
Zelda will tell you about almost peeing in my stairwell. She's also submitted an outline of posts to look forward to on the subject.
Everyone clamoring for pictures should go see Kath's photo of me in my tiara. She's also got a video of Alex's portion of the performance so you can live vicariously over there.
More as it happens!
Apparently linear isn't going to work for me. My brain is still scrambled from so much fun. I'll probably do more than one of these today. Tonight I'll do some pictures. I know it's what the public wants and I'm working on it, I promise.
1. Zelda came all the way here to surprise me. I was so surprised I may have cried a little. I don't know how she did it, her whole corner of the internet was in on it - Chrome, Gert, MGirl, Seth (does Seth have a web site?), Facebook. Worked like a charm, I never guessed. She stayed until midday yesterday so the party rocked right on.
2. MamaKizz, SoDivine, Queen Bee and Pony Express worked like dogs with me on Saturday to put the finishing touches on the place. Curtains were ironed, toilets were brushed, floors were mopped. What is that line from Annie? "Make it shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!" And we did.
3. There were two cakes and both were delicious. One was ChemE's recipe executed by Pony Express and then MamaKizz made a German Chocolate cake with that delicious nuts and coconut frosting that I could eat with a spoon. You know it's going to be a good day when you're scrubbing the bathroom with one of your best friends and your mom comes in and feeds you a spoonful of frosting.
4. The only other person who cried (I think) was MusicKid. Can't blame him, there were a lot of people around and it was a little overwhelming.
5. I'm pretty sure that every single performer did something they'd never done before. They were all fabulous. We covered torch songs to puppets to talk of colonoscopies. I sang, I danced, I laughed so hard I should have brought a change of underwear.
6. I told people not to bring presents but they didn't listen. I got a few pieces of beautiful jewelry, some hilarious gag gifts, a couple of movies and some disposable cameras to use during the evening plus a photo album to collect them in. Flashes flashing all over the evening.
7. Did I mention that there were over 30 people in attendance? This thing was huge! I've never thrown a party that big before. Due to weather and health complications there were a few cancelations, too. Can you imagine what it would have been like if everyone had been able to come?
8. Kath made (and transported to both venues) Bailey's Hot Chocolate. I have only one question for her: Why have we not had that before? That was delicious!
9. Speaking of things to drink, the gentleman at the wine store suggested half a bottle of champagne per person so I bought a case for the discount, knowing that we'd have some left over. Yeah, if by some you mean about one bottle. So I'm guessing everyone enjoyed my choices.
10. I had fun. So, so much fun. As Chrome said to me this morning, "let's do it again!
(But not soon...I need a rest!)" Amen, my sister.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
I am all out of words for how my birthday party went. Must mull before sharing. All you'd get now is a list of weird:
case of champagne