I keep walking around the house and noticing things that are in disrepair or that we need to buy new...
We need a new couch.
We need a bigger dinning room table.
We need a sideboard for the kitchen.
We need a new bed frame.
We need a laptop.
We need to recover the chairs in the library.
We need a giant cat scratcher tower thingy so the kitties stop scratching the furniture.
Etc., Etc., Etc.,
Finally, today, I realized what we really need that will solve ALL of those needs listed above.
We need to win the lottery.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Frank Goes To The Vet, Part Two
Now with 25% more ridiculousness!
Just a quick final chapter to the long vet saga that started yesterday morning...
After finally leaving off the whole ordeal last night with the vet having me order, directly from the manufacturer, the fancy feline eye gel for Frank's not so fancy pink eye, which was supposed to be in sometime this afternoon, I went to bed feeling very irritable.
For that matter, so did Frankie, since he still had no freaking eye medication and his poor little eyes were starting to swell shut.
But that irritation was NOTHING compared to the swell of anger I experienced at 8:32 a.m. this morning.
That was when I got a message from the vet who was now calling to say that Walgreens had attempted to order said eye gel directly from the manufacturer as the doctor had demanded. Only the all-important-we-can't-have-anything-else antibiotic eye gel couldn't be ordered directly from the manufacturer.
Because the manufacturer no longer makes the prescribed eye gel.
Hmmm....the manufacturer that was making EYE GEL for CATS that you have to PHYSICALLY RUB IN THEIR EYE BALLS stopped manufacturing the eye gel.
This is total speculation on my part, but maybe, just maybe, the manufacturer quit making the eye gel for cats because any cat in their right mind would CLAW YOU TO DEATH if you attempted to PHYSICALLY RUB GEL IN THEIR EYE BALLS.
And what will they claw you to death with, you ask? Why, WITH THEIR SABER-LIKE CLAWS, of course. (SABER-LIKE CLAWS!!!!)
The message said that the vet who originally insisted that we go on this Never Ending Quest For the Holy Grail Of Feline Eye Gel (copyright pending), would not be in until this afternoon and so they would call me back and let me know then what, exactly, they planned to do about the fact that Frank STILL had no eye medication for his pink eye.
Yeah, I thought. You do that. You call me back this afternoon. And at that point, I will try really, really hard not scream very loud expletives in your ears.
Well, let's be honest. I wasn't planning on trying at all.
So, this afternoon, I got a phone call. From the vet herself. Who was very nice on the phone and apologized profusely for all the trouble this turned into. Then she said that she was going to give Frank a different kind of antibiotic, which I could come by after work and pick up today directly from the vet. Antibiotic eye drops, to be exact.
EYE DROPS.
Just like I asked for on TUESDAY MORNING. WHEN I CALLED AND SAID, "MY CAT HAS PINK EYE AND HE NEEDS ANTIBIOTIC EYE DROPS."
I told her thank you. Then I hung up the phone and screamed out loud.
So, here it is, Thursday night. And Frank finally got to start his antibiotic eye drops. I can already tell that he is starting to perk up. In the couple hours since I gave him his first dose, his eyes are already starting to look better.
At least one of us is feeling better about the whole thing.
And so ends the Tale of Frank Goes To The Vet. The End.
Stay tuned for next week's highly anticipated episode: Lizzy Loses Her Girl Parts.
Just a quick final chapter to the long vet saga that started yesterday morning...
After finally leaving off the whole ordeal last night with the vet having me order, directly from the manufacturer, the fancy feline eye gel for Frank's not so fancy pink eye, which was supposed to be in sometime this afternoon, I went to bed feeling very irritable.
For that matter, so did Frankie, since he still had no freaking eye medication and his poor little eyes were starting to swell shut.
But that irritation was NOTHING compared to the swell of anger I experienced at 8:32 a.m. this morning.
That was when I got a message from the vet who was now calling to say that Walgreens had attempted to order said eye gel directly from the manufacturer as the doctor had demanded. Only the all-important-we-can't-have-anything-else antibiotic eye gel couldn't be ordered directly from the manufacturer.
Because the manufacturer no longer makes the prescribed eye gel.
Hmmm....the manufacturer that was making EYE GEL for CATS that you have to PHYSICALLY RUB IN THEIR EYE BALLS stopped manufacturing the eye gel.
This is total speculation on my part, but maybe, just maybe, the manufacturer quit making the eye gel for cats because any cat in their right mind would CLAW YOU TO DEATH if you attempted to PHYSICALLY RUB GEL IN THEIR EYE BALLS.
And what will they claw you to death with, you ask? Why, WITH THEIR SABER-LIKE CLAWS, of course. (SABER-LIKE CLAWS!!!!)
The message said that the vet who originally insisted that we go on this Never Ending Quest For the Holy Grail Of Feline Eye Gel (copyright pending), would not be in until this afternoon and so they would call me back and let me know then what, exactly, they planned to do about the fact that Frank STILL had no eye medication for his pink eye.
Yeah, I thought. You do that. You call me back this afternoon. And at that point, I will try really, really hard not scream very loud expletives in your ears.
Well, let's be honest. I wasn't planning on trying at all.
So, this afternoon, I got a phone call. From the vet herself. Who was very nice on the phone and apologized profusely for all the trouble this turned into. Then she said that she was going to give Frank a different kind of antibiotic, which I could come by after work and pick up today directly from the vet. Antibiotic eye drops, to be exact.
EYE DROPS.
Just like I asked for on TUESDAY MORNING. WHEN I CALLED AND SAID, "MY CAT HAS PINK EYE AND HE NEEDS ANTIBIOTIC EYE DROPS."
I told her thank you. Then I hung up the phone and screamed out loud.
So, here it is, Thursday night. And Frank finally got to start his antibiotic eye drops. I can already tell that he is starting to perk up. In the couple hours since I gave him his first dose, his eyes are already starting to look better.
At least one of us is feeling better about the whole thing.
And so ends the Tale of Frank Goes To The Vet. The End.
Stay tuned for next week's highly anticipated episode: Lizzy Loses Her Girl Parts.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Frank Goes To The Vet
Frank has pink eye.
I knew he had pink eye because his eyes are pink and full of green pus.
I knew this because I have access to the Internet and the Internet has the answer to everything you could ever want to know. And it has lots of pictures of what pink eye looks like. (As a side note, DO NOT Google pink eye images during lunch.)
So I called my vet and had the following conversation:
ME: Hey, my cat has pink eye and he needs antibiotic drops. Can you just call something in for him so I can come by and pick it up later?
VET: No, we won't just prescribe meds without seeing him.....yada yada yada....eye infection....yada yada yada...special medications for different eye troubles....yada yada yada...
So I made an appointment and took him in to the vet this morning.
That vet appointment took an hour. Forty-five minutes of that hour was spent with the vet giving me a lecture on the etiology of pink eye in cats.
At the end of that Dissertation on the Causes of Feline Conjunctivitis, I was confused. I felt like that whole lecture had to be for some reason. Like she was trying to tell me something. Like maybe it was all my fault that my cat has pink eye and that I should obviously be doing something totally different with his care. As if the fact that I've kept him alive for the last EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS counts for nothing.
So I asked her, "Should I be doing something different to prevent him from getting pink eye?" And her answer? "No, there really isn't anything you can do. Cats just sometimes get pink eye."
It took her forty-five minutes to tell me that cats? Well sometimes they just get pink eye. Oh, and that had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with how we were going to FIX said pink eye.
So I asked what, exactly, we were going to do about the pink eye. Hahahahahaha, funny I should ask.
She was giving me antibiotics (big surprise!) but these weren't just any antibiotics. They were special antibiotics. In gel form. That I have to smear on his eye balls BY HAND.
I asked her if she had ever actually owned a cat before. What I really wanted to ask her was if she was crazy.
I mean, really. She had just told me to restrain my GIANT MOUNTAIN LION cat down, all the while avoiding his SABER-LIKE CLAWS, while I smear gel antibiotics IN HIS EYE BALL.
And did I mention that he has pink eye IN BOTH EYES? So, after I manage to do this whole eye-gel-smearing-and-not-dying thing in one eye, she wanted me to turn around and DO IT AGAIN in the other eye.
THREE TIMES A DAY.
Effing. Crazy.
I then asked her why, exactly, I couldn't just give him eye drops. Because then I could stand at a safe distance and sort of toss the eye drops into his eyes (all from well beyond the reach of his SABER-LIKE CLAWS--did I mention the SABER-LIKE CLAWS?!?!) and then when he blinks, all that lovely medication would just float right into his eye ball. Without me even having to touch it. And without the risk of pulling back a bloody stump where my hand used to be.
I will admit that there was some very medically plausible reason for the gel--something about how the gel sticks around in the eye better and requires fewer treatments and therefore also works faster than the eye drops.
Of course, that rationale is only medically sound if you manage to get the gel in the cat's eye in the first place. That little key factor is where practical medicine diverges from academic medicine.
So, I pushed the drops vs. gel issue a little bit more but quickly realized that I was getting nowhere fast. And I was crazy late for work at this point. So I put Frank back in his carrier and went to pay the bill. Then they told me they didn't have this magical gel that they were so insistent that I use.
But it was no big deal. They would just call the prescription in to good old Walgreens and I should be able to pick it up in an hour.
Except that when I got to Walgreens an hour later they didn't have it. And neither did the other Walgreens in town. And that was when the helpful little pharmacist said, "Ummm...I don't think you are going to find this gel stuff anywhere in town. It's weird to see this particular medication in gel form. Most pharmacies only carry it in drops."
IN DROPS. LIKE I ASKED FOR. What a freaking surprise.
So I called the vet and challenged them to find me a pharmacy in town that had this super, duper, special antibiotic gel. Then I suggested that, if they could not find a pharmacy that carried this stuff, that maybe, just maybe, the vet might like to consider giving Frank EYE DROPS.
Half an hour later (now going on three hours post-vet appointment) they called back and apologized for the "confusion."
Of course, the confusion they were referring to was not their confusion. It was mine.
Because they weren't surprised by the fact that no one in town carries this gel. They already knew that because Walgreens told them that ten minutes after I left the vet appointment when they initially called in the prescription. I was supposed to special order the gel, through the pharmacy, directly from the manufacturer. Silly me.
Furthermore, that special order would take a full day to get here. Which means that I cannot pick it up until the next day after work. Which means Frank does not get to start his antibiotic eye medication for his pink eye for a full thirty-six hours after his vet appointment.
Mind you, this isn't some Bermuda night school veterinarian. This is a fancy vet. A super fancy, very expensive vet hospital, as a matter of fact. In general, I feel very good about taking my kitties there as they have, in the past, gotten very high quality care.
And in one sense, Frank did get high quality care there today because the vet spent quite a bit of time educating me about what was wrong with him and specifically prescribed a special medication designed to be highly effective in a much shorter amount of time.
But, the sad truth is that it doesn't matter why Frank has pink eye if I can't really do anything to help him avoid it in the future. And this highly effective medication doesn't really do me much good if I can't even get my hands on it and, once I do, I can't manage to treat him as prescribed because most cats don't just let you repeatedly stick your finger in their eyes without putting up a fight. With their SABER-LIKE CLAWS.
There's a difference between high quality care and high quality effective care.
So here we are tonight, Frank and me, sitting here at the computer blogging about our day. Frank, with his pus filled pink eyes, is all curled up, looking very sad and pathetic over in the corner, still with no medication. And I know exactly what I already knew yesterday morning when I called the vet to initially ask for the prescription: that Frank has pink eye and needs antibiotics.
And I can't help but think back with nostalgia to my old vet in Beigeville. Who wasn't warm and fuzzy and didn't have a fancy office. But who, I guarantee, would have had the following conversation with me in under five minutes in his office this morning:
ME: I think my cat has pink eye and he needs some antibiotics.
VET: Yep, that's definitely pink eye. Here's some antibiotic eye drops. Call me if he doesn't get better.
Point being? I think I need to find us another vet.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Getting In The Mood
In general, it sort of irritates me the way most retail stores these days are a full one to two holidays ahead of schedule.
For example, the week before Halloween, our beloved Ghetto Dillons had already started clearing a space for red sparkly garland and blinky, multicolored Christmas lights.
I mean, I had not even bought the neighborhood kids candy for the trick or treating and here was Dillons, already getting into the full swing of the Christmas season.
Don't get me wrong--I love the Christmas season. I just happen to think that it doesn't start until we at least get through Thanksgiving.
And its due to my sensitivity about celebrating the holiday season during the actual holiday season, instead of during the previous holiday season that I typically do not start listening to my plethora of Christmas music until after the turkey and football hangovers have worn off.
But not this year.
There has just been something about that light dusting of the first snow of the season that we got yesterday morning that has Christmas on my brain.
One of my most favorite things about the Christmas season is the music. I listen to more loud music in the house during the Christmas season than I do during the entire rest of the year.
So, as I was going through my Christmas music collection tonight, getting ready to make Moxie's Christmas Mix 2009 from my trusty iTunes, I thought I would share a list of my favorite Christmas songs with all of you.
I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm by Frank Sinatra
I mean, really. Can you get any more classic than Old Blue Eyes himself? There is just something about the horns at the beginning of this one that wakes you up, slaps you on the back, and makes you feel like inviting all your friends over for some martinis and poker in front of the fireplace. Listen to a sample of it here.
Jingle Bells? by Barbra Streisand
I have a soft spot for the young Barbra--you know, the one who starred in Funny Girl and hadn't started taking herself too seriously just yet. And this version of Jingle Bells comes from that time period, released originally in 1967. The fast pace, playful tempos, and divaesque ending of this one makes it a good sing-along for young and the young at heart. Listen to a sample of it here.
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
I have a general rule not to like Mariah Carey. I usually find her rather annoying and uninteresting. This is my one major exception to that rule. And talk about a good sing-along! By the time I get to that last high note at the very end, I can't control myself and have to belt it out as loud as I possibly can. Which is why I tend to play this song in the car a lot. When I am alone and no one can hear me crack that high note. Listen to a sample of it here.
Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses
I love the classic Christmas standards and the traditional holiday music. But sometimes you need to break out of the mold and go for something a little more off the beaten snow path. And this is just the perfect song for those moments. Listen to a sample of it here.
I Want An Alien For Christmas by Fountains of Wayne
This is a happy, bright and sunny, time-to-go-stocking-stuffer shopping kind of song. Specifically, this song is for the kids of all the adults who, when they were children, really liked the song All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth. Oh how the generations continues to evolve. Be careful though. It will make you start thinking about getting an alien. Listen to a sample of it here.
Run Rudolph Run by Keith Richards
The holiday season is always filled with parties. And there is no better party than one that features a good rock and roll band and some dancing. At Christmas, this is one of my favorites to get out on the dance floor and enjoy. Listen to a sample of it here.
Good Morning Blues by Ella Fitzgerald
There is really nothing more divine than waking up early on one of the few Saturday mornings before Christmas, shuffling into the kitchen, making some hot coffee and whipping up a little french toast or warm waffles while the snow falls outside. And this is the song to listen to while you enjoy those simple pleasures. When she sings "I wanna see Santa Claus/ Gonna ask him for my baby/ Ain't that a real good cause," you'll agree that it is. Listen to a sample of it here.
Back Door Santa by JET
This song is a perfect salve to that pain you feel in your head when you hear Madonna sing "Santa Baby" for the millionth time by December 15th. It's bad in a way that makes you feel oh so good. Just remember, when the cars a'rockin'.... Listen to a sample of it here.
2000 Miles by The Pretenders
I'm not really sure why, but when I have to sit down and wrap a whole bunch of Christmas presents all at once, my ears cry out to listen to this particular song. I think 2000 Miles is one of the best modern Christmas songs there is out there. Listen to a sample of it here.
Carol of The Bells by George Winston
This particular Christmas carol is by far my most favorite of all. And while I have about ten dozen different versions of Carol of the Bells by every artist known to man, this particular instrumental version always seems to make it on every Christmas mix I ever make. I just love how complicated and haunting it is--like driving through a snow storm at dusk with those momentary rushes of nervousness accompanied with a strange sort of loneliness that falls with every snowflake. Listen to a sample of it here.
The Christmas Song by The Raveonettes
I heart The Raveonettes. And I love this airy little ditty. Its both easy to sing along to if you feel like it and just as easy to sit and absorb while stealing a quick moment to ruminate in your own thoughts. Its versatile and that's the best kind of Christmas music there is. Listen to a sample of it here.
What Are You Doing New Years Eve by Ella Fitzgerald
Yeah, I know, this isn't technically a Christmas song...but really, New Years is just the hair of the dog on the hangover that is the end of the Christmas season. I always swore that if I ever became a lounge singer, this would be my signature piece. I don't have a lounge act, but it is my signature piece for karaoke time in the shower. (TMI?) A romantically slow classic to sway back and forth to while cheek to cheek with your honey just before midnight on any night of the holiday season. Listen to a sample of it here.
So, this is a good sampling of what I'll be listening to during the holiday season. What are some of your go-to holiday songs?
For example, the week before Halloween, our beloved Ghetto Dillons had already started clearing a space for red sparkly garland and blinky, multicolored Christmas lights.
I mean, I had not even bought the neighborhood kids candy for the trick or treating and here was Dillons, already getting into the full swing of the Christmas season.
Don't get me wrong--I love the Christmas season. I just happen to think that it doesn't start until we at least get through Thanksgiving.
And its due to my sensitivity about celebrating the holiday season during the actual holiday season, instead of during the previous holiday season that I typically do not start listening to my plethora of Christmas music until after the turkey and football hangovers have worn off.
But not this year.
There has just been something about that light dusting of the first snow of the season that we got yesterday morning that has Christmas on my brain.
One of my most favorite things about the Christmas season is the music. I listen to more loud music in the house during the Christmas season than I do during the entire rest of the year.
So, as I was going through my Christmas music collection tonight, getting ready to make Moxie's Christmas Mix 2009 from my trusty iTunes, I thought I would share a list of my favorite Christmas songs with all of you.
I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm by Frank Sinatra
I mean, really. Can you get any more classic than Old Blue Eyes himself? There is just something about the horns at the beginning of this one that wakes you up, slaps you on the back, and makes you feel like inviting all your friends over for some martinis and poker in front of the fireplace. Listen to a sample of it here.
Jingle Bells? by Barbra Streisand
I have a soft spot for the young Barbra--you know, the one who starred in Funny Girl and hadn't started taking herself too seriously just yet. And this version of Jingle Bells comes from that time period, released originally in 1967. The fast pace, playful tempos, and divaesque ending of this one makes it a good sing-along for young and the young at heart. Listen to a sample of it here.
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
I have a general rule not to like Mariah Carey. I usually find her rather annoying and uninteresting. This is my one major exception to that rule. And talk about a good sing-along! By the time I get to that last high note at the very end, I can't control myself and have to belt it out as loud as I possibly can. Which is why I tend to play this song in the car a lot. When I am alone and no one can hear me crack that high note. Listen to a sample of it here.
Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses
I love the classic Christmas standards and the traditional holiday music. But sometimes you need to break out of the mold and go for something a little more off the beaten snow path. And this is just the perfect song for those moments. Listen to a sample of it here.
I Want An Alien For Christmas by Fountains of Wayne
This is a happy, bright and sunny, time-to-go-stocking-stuffer shopping kind of song. Specifically, this song is for the kids of all the adults who, when they were children, really liked the song All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth. Oh how the generations continues to evolve. Be careful though. It will make you start thinking about getting an alien. Listen to a sample of it here.
Run Rudolph Run by Keith Richards
The holiday season is always filled with parties. And there is no better party than one that features a good rock and roll band and some dancing. At Christmas, this is one of my favorites to get out on the dance floor and enjoy. Listen to a sample of it here.
Good Morning Blues by Ella Fitzgerald
There is really nothing more divine than waking up early on one of the few Saturday mornings before Christmas, shuffling into the kitchen, making some hot coffee and whipping up a little french toast or warm waffles while the snow falls outside. And this is the song to listen to while you enjoy those simple pleasures. When she sings "I wanna see Santa Claus/ Gonna ask him for my baby/ Ain't that a real good cause," you'll agree that it is. Listen to a sample of it here.
Back Door Santa by JET
This song is a perfect salve to that pain you feel in your head when you hear Madonna sing "Santa Baby" for the millionth time by December 15th. It's bad in a way that makes you feel oh so good. Just remember, when the cars a'rockin'.... Listen to a sample of it here.
2000 Miles by The Pretenders
I'm not really sure why, but when I have to sit down and wrap a whole bunch of Christmas presents all at once, my ears cry out to listen to this particular song. I think 2000 Miles is one of the best modern Christmas songs there is out there. Listen to a sample of it here.
Carol of The Bells by George Winston
This particular Christmas carol is by far my most favorite of all. And while I have about ten dozen different versions of Carol of the Bells by every artist known to man, this particular instrumental version always seems to make it on every Christmas mix I ever make. I just love how complicated and haunting it is--like driving through a snow storm at dusk with those momentary rushes of nervousness accompanied with a strange sort of loneliness that falls with every snowflake. Listen to a sample of it here.
The Christmas Song by The Raveonettes
I heart The Raveonettes. And I love this airy little ditty. Its both easy to sing along to if you feel like it and just as easy to sit and absorb while stealing a quick moment to ruminate in your own thoughts. Its versatile and that's the best kind of Christmas music there is. Listen to a sample of it here.
What Are You Doing New Years Eve by Ella Fitzgerald
Yeah, I know, this isn't technically a Christmas song...but really, New Years is just the hair of the dog on the hangover that is the end of the Christmas season. I always swore that if I ever became a lounge singer, this would be my signature piece. I don't have a lounge act, but it is my signature piece for karaoke time in the shower. (TMI?) A romantically slow classic to sway back and forth to while cheek to cheek with your honey just before midnight on any night of the holiday season. Listen to a sample of it here.
So, this is a good sampling of what I'll be listening to during the holiday season. What are some of your go-to holiday songs?
Monday, November 16, 2009
It's Not You, It's Me
As I blogged about a few weeks ago (or was that already a month ago?), I've been feeling very overwhelmed by work recently.
And not overwhelmed as in "Oh my god how can anyone possibly get all this work done."
Instead its more of a personal, "Oh dear lord, I am so tired, I need more sleep, more Nyquil, and an extensive vacation" kind of overwhelmed.
Don't get me wrong, we are very busy at work right now and no one really has much breathing room in my office. But I just suspect that my recent personal frustrations with work and bogged down feelings about my workload have more to do with me personally than with a particularly outlandish assigned case list.
I mean, I was out sick for a variety of days over the last few weeks as I battled the flu and a nice little helping of some sort of head cold/bronchial infection thing that has not yet totally abandoned my weary body.
Then there is my whole insomnia thing where if it isn't my cough keeping me up, its the kitties starting cat fights at three a.m., Sandusky's steady snoring, or just my brain's inability to turn itself off.
But enough with the woe is me shit. The point being, that I am recognizing the writing on the wall: I need a break.
Not a long break, no six week long trek through South America as my co-worker, Mini, did this summer.
I just need a few days all to myself, with no work looming over my head, keeping me up at night and guilting me into working my weekends away.
So, I am here by declaring the upcoming Thanksgiving break as MY Weekend.
I will bust my ass while running on empty over the next week to get a few more cases out the door so that the upcoming four day weekend will be work free.
Because if it isn't work free, I might just pull all my hair out. And, unlike Sandusky, I don't look good bald.
So, if I don't return phone calls or emails and if I respectfully decline invitations of fun and exciting soirees, do not be offended.
I just need to push a little harder for just a little longer and then the old me will be back and ready to relax and enjoy the holiday!
And not overwhelmed as in "Oh my god how can anyone possibly get all this work done."
Instead its more of a personal, "Oh dear lord, I am so tired, I need more sleep, more Nyquil, and an extensive vacation" kind of overwhelmed.
Don't get me wrong, we are very busy at work right now and no one really has much breathing room in my office. But I just suspect that my recent personal frustrations with work and bogged down feelings about my workload have more to do with me personally than with a particularly outlandish assigned case list.
I mean, I was out sick for a variety of days over the last few weeks as I battled the flu and a nice little helping of some sort of head cold/bronchial infection thing that has not yet totally abandoned my weary body.
Then there is my whole insomnia thing where if it isn't my cough keeping me up, its the kitties starting cat fights at three a.m., Sandusky's steady snoring, or just my brain's inability to turn itself off.
But enough with the woe is me shit. The point being, that I am recognizing the writing on the wall: I need a break.
Not a long break, no six week long trek through South America as my co-worker, Mini, did this summer.
I just need a few days all to myself, with no work looming over my head, keeping me up at night and guilting me into working my weekends away.
So, I am here by declaring the upcoming Thanksgiving break as MY Weekend.
I will bust my ass while running on empty over the next week to get a few more cases out the door so that the upcoming four day weekend will be work free.
Because if it isn't work free, I might just pull all my hair out. And, unlike Sandusky, I don't look good bald.
So, if I don't return phone calls or emails and if I respectfully decline invitations of fun and exciting soirees, do not be offended.
I just need to push a little harder for just a little longer and then the old me will be back and ready to relax and enjoy the holiday!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sandusky's Birthday In Pictures
Initially, we thought we might be in STL this weekend for Sandusky's birthday, but some on-again, off-again work plans caused us to stick around in town with a wait-see attitude just in case Sandusky had to travel for work on his birthday.
Fortunately, his travel plans fell through, which means we got to celebrate his birthday together today in the laid back, low key style he prefers.
You see, since Sandusky started living with me, he has often been dismayed by the sheer amount of social engagements that he now gets scheduled for as one-half of the thoroughly fabulous and always in-demand couple that is us.
So, on the rare occasion when we have nothing to do and nowhere to go, he lounges about, aimlessly enjoying the fact that his time is completely his to do with as he pleases.
And, with the holidays coming up, and the demands on our free time increasing with every new holiday party and family get-together, I knew that he would relish having little to nothing on his social calendar today.
Therefore our birthday plans for Sandusky's Big Forty-Fourth? To get a massage. And then eat a steak dinner. And that was it. And he was in HEAVEN.
First, he got up before I did. Like three hours before I did. So he made breakfast for us. I got up just in time to catch the tail end of the breakfast making.
I felt a little guilty that he made ME breakfast on HIS birthday. But I quickly drowned that guilt in an omelet and a side of to-die-for cheesy hash browns.
After breakfast, he spent most of the morning alternating between watching sports on television and playing computer games. And he loved every second of it.
In the morning, I gave him a birthday card, informing him that he had an appointment around lunchtime for a massage. He's a total back rub sloot, so I knew that a sixty minute massage would make him feel like he won the lottery.
As you can tell, he was very excited for his spa appointment.
After becoming very relaxed and zen-like, I brought Sandusky home and he had the luxury of taking a mid-afternoon nap. I had to admit, I was kind of jealous of that. My highest form of self-indulgence is taking mid-afternoon naps on the weekends. But, alas, while Sandusky napped, I spent several hours getting some much needed work done.
Then, after some more hanging out and doing a whole lotta nothing, we moseyed on over to Ten at the Eldridge for some steak. Here is Sandusky, contemplating whether to get the KC Strip or the Ribeye before heading inside.
That was really all Sandusky asked for on his birthday--steak. So steak is what we had. And it was good.
Then it was home again, home again, where we lounged with the kitties, watching some History channel special on Cleopatra. Because we both love that kind of stuff. Because we are both dorks like that. Which is why we are marrying each other.
And what better way to cap off the day, with a little bit of birthday apple pie with vanilla ice cream!
Happy Birthday, Sandusky!!!
Fortunately, his travel plans fell through, which means we got to celebrate his birthday together today in the laid back, low key style he prefers.
You see, since Sandusky started living with me, he has often been dismayed by the sheer amount of social engagements that he now gets scheduled for as one-half of the thoroughly fabulous and always in-demand couple that is us.
So, on the rare occasion when we have nothing to do and nowhere to go, he lounges about, aimlessly enjoying the fact that his time is completely his to do with as he pleases.
And, with the holidays coming up, and the demands on our free time increasing with every new holiday party and family get-together, I knew that he would relish having little to nothing on his social calendar today.
Therefore our birthday plans for Sandusky's Big Forty-Fourth? To get a massage. And then eat a steak dinner. And that was it. And he was in HEAVEN.
First, he got up before I did. Like three hours before I did. So he made breakfast for us. I got up just in time to catch the tail end of the breakfast making.
I felt a little guilty that he made ME breakfast on HIS birthday. But I quickly drowned that guilt in an omelet and a side of to-die-for cheesy hash browns.
After breakfast, he spent most of the morning alternating between watching sports on television and playing computer games. And he loved every second of it.
In the morning, I gave him a birthday card, informing him that he had an appointment around lunchtime for a massage. He's a total back rub sloot, so I knew that a sixty minute massage would make him feel like he won the lottery.
As you can tell, he was very excited for his spa appointment.
After becoming very relaxed and zen-like, I brought Sandusky home and he had the luxury of taking a mid-afternoon nap. I had to admit, I was kind of jealous of that. My highest form of self-indulgence is taking mid-afternoon naps on the weekends. But, alas, while Sandusky napped, I spent several hours getting some much needed work done.
Then, after some more hanging out and doing a whole lotta nothing, we moseyed on over to Ten at the Eldridge for some steak. Here is Sandusky, contemplating whether to get the KC Strip or the Ribeye before heading inside.
That was really all Sandusky asked for on his birthday--steak. So steak is what we had. And it was good.
Then it was home again, home again, where we lounged with the kitties, watching some History channel special on Cleopatra. Because we both love that kind of stuff. Because we are both dorks like that. Which is why we are marrying each other.
And what better way to cap off the day, with a little bit of birthday apple pie with vanilla ice cream!
Happy Birthday, Sandusky!!!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Photogenic
We had plans this afternoon to meet our super duper wedding photographer (also known as Nice Coworker, Meryl, over at My Bit Of Earth).
The plan was to meet downtown and take some engagement photos of myself and Sandusky both to just have and also to potentially use on some Save The Date cards to be sent to our friends and family.
I have to admit that I approached that meeting with some trepidation.
I feel like I have a silly smile. When I am really naturally smiling, I have a horse grin where all you see is my gigantic upper overbite.
And if I am both laughing and smiling, then I usually have the double chin protruding out from my jaw line which, as you can imagine, is highly attractive in all its blubbery glory.
And God help me if I am both smiling and laughing while facing sideways. Because then you get the full view of my horse smile, my double chin AND my witch nose bump.
And yes, I have a witch nose bump. Sandusky likes to call it my witch wart. Even though it isn't a wart at all and just happens to be some sort of small bumpy bone near the lower third of my nose. Which is quite common, in point of fact. I still hate that stupid little witch bump though.
On top of my concern about my natural attributes of which I am self-conscious, there was also the concern about how awkward it feels to be walking and posing down Mass Street while someone takes pictures while you are trying to "look natural."
Let's face it. There really is nothing natural about trying to look natural.
But, for all my nervousness, the photo shoot went wonderfully.
It was a little stiff and strange at first as both Sandusky and I tried to pose without looking too out of place, keenly aware of people staring at the three of us (Sandusky, myself, and Meryl) as they walked by.
But that awkward feeling quickly dissipated as we started doing what we do best when we feel slightly out of place---be silly.
Meryl made things that much easier as well by laughing at all our silliness, which made us feel more like we really were looking natural.
By the time we made it about one block in to our roughly four block trek up Mass, posing at various points along the way, we were having great fun, not even remotely caring about how cuddly we were being in public or how many people were watching as we struck a pose.
So now we can't wait to see the photos later this week--partially because the pictures will come in handy for friends and family and our Save the Date cards.
But also because I know that we will look back fondly at these pictures from this slightly dreary afternoon and remember just how fun it was to enjoy each other for the benefit of Meryl's camera lens while reveling in our engagement.
The plan was to meet downtown and take some engagement photos of myself and Sandusky both to just have and also to potentially use on some Save The Date cards to be sent to our friends and family.
I have to admit that I approached that meeting with some trepidation.
I feel like I have a silly smile. When I am really naturally smiling, I have a horse grin where all you see is my gigantic upper overbite.
And if I am both laughing and smiling, then I usually have the double chin protruding out from my jaw line which, as you can imagine, is highly attractive in all its blubbery glory.
And God help me if I am both smiling and laughing while facing sideways. Because then you get the full view of my horse smile, my double chin AND my witch nose bump.
And yes, I have a witch nose bump. Sandusky likes to call it my witch wart. Even though it isn't a wart at all and just happens to be some sort of small bumpy bone near the lower third of my nose. Which is quite common, in point of fact. I still hate that stupid little witch bump though.
On top of my concern about my natural attributes of which I am self-conscious, there was also the concern about how awkward it feels to be walking and posing down Mass Street while someone takes pictures while you are trying to "look natural."
Let's face it. There really is nothing natural about trying to look natural.
But, for all my nervousness, the photo shoot went wonderfully.
It was a little stiff and strange at first as both Sandusky and I tried to pose without looking too out of place, keenly aware of people staring at the three of us (Sandusky, myself, and Meryl) as they walked by.
But that awkward feeling quickly dissipated as we started doing what we do best when we feel slightly out of place---be silly.
Meryl made things that much easier as well by laughing at all our silliness, which made us feel more like we really were looking natural.
By the time we made it about one block in to our roughly four block trek up Mass, posing at various points along the way, we were having great fun, not even remotely caring about how cuddly we were being in public or how many people were watching as we struck a pose.
So now we can't wait to see the photos later this week--partially because the pictures will come in handy for friends and family and our Save the Date cards.
But also because I know that we will look back fondly at these pictures from this slightly dreary afternoon and remember just how fun it was to enjoy each other for the benefit of Meryl's camera lens while reveling in our engagement.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Kitties!
The Fabulous Miss T commented the other day at lunch that my blog has been woefully kitten free for awhile.
So, back by popular demand, here's Frank and Lizzy!
And, last but not least...
So, back by popular demand, here's Frank and Lizzy!
Here is Queen Elizabeth, getting ready to address her subjects.
Notice her regal aloofness and statuesque pose for the photographers...
Notice her regal aloofness and statuesque pose for the photographers...
As reported by TMZ, the paparazzi caught dashing leading man and international superstar, Frankenstein, leaving his mansion on his way to catch up with his new BFF and fellow Hollywood clubber, Paris Hilton.
Both Frankenstein and Hilton's reps say the pair are "just friends."
Both Frankenstein and Hilton's reps say the pair are "just friends."
Yes, Mr. DeMille, Lizzy is now ready for her closeup.
And, last but not least...
Professor Frankie just couldn't understand why none of these seniors in his Modern American Literature 401 class could seem to come to class on time or manage to score above a C minus on their midterms.
Was he being too hard on them? Or was that patchouli that he smelled as they wandered out of class with vacant eyes....
Was he being too hard on them? Or was that patchouli that he smelled as they wandered out of class with vacant eyes....
And the Epic Facebook Wars Continue
Just a quick update on my quixotic battles with The Facebook Gods and their unreasonable demands:
After posting this whole rant just three days ago, I signed on to my FB account tonight and what do you think just happened to pop up in the right hand corner of my homepage?
"BestFriend: You haven't talked on Facebook lately. Write on her wall."
Oh. My. God. Facebook, you did NOT JUST GO THERE.
First of all, I think we might need to review your definition of "lately."
Because if by "lately" you mean that I haven't written on BestFriend's Facebook wall in the last seventy-two hours, then yes, I guess I haven't talked to Bestfriend on Facebook "lately." But to me, "lately" means that if you've contacted each other in the last five to seven days, you are good.
So, dear, dear, Facebook, I would very kindly suggest that, perhaps, you reconsider your definition of the term "lately." Maybe you could do that right after you pull your collective heads out of your collective asses.
Second, I think you, my dear Facebook, might just need to face facts. I think BestFriend just might not be that in to you.
I wrote on her wall, as you commanded, three days ago. And if she still hasn't checked back in on the Facebooking world, then maybe its time for you to move on and find another hot MILF in her early thirties to mac on.
Let's face it. Obsessing over the same girl for months at a time is not an attractive quality.
And finally, Facebook, you are literally starting to drive me insane. And I know that is a short drive for me. But you've taken me out of the '73 Pinto with a top speed of 30 mph and put me on the bullet train to Facebook Hatersburg.
So, phooey on you.
This is war, dear Facebook. And as the immortal Highlander Intro used to say, "There can be only one!"
After posting this whole rant just three days ago, I signed on to my FB account tonight and what do you think just happened to pop up in the right hand corner of my homepage?
"BestFriend: You haven't talked on Facebook lately. Write on her wall."
Oh. My. God. Facebook, you did NOT JUST GO THERE.
First of all, I think we might need to review your definition of "lately."
Because if by "lately" you mean that I haven't written on BestFriend's Facebook wall in the last seventy-two hours, then yes, I guess I haven't talked to Bestfriend on Facebook "lately." But to me, "lately" means that if you've contacted each other in the last five to seven days, you are good.
So, dear, dear, Facebook, I would very kindly suggest that, perhaps, you reconsider your definition of the term "lately." Maybe you could do that right after you pull your collective heads out of your collective asses.
Second, I think you, my dear Facebook, might just need to face facts. I think BestFriend just might not be that in to you.
I wrote on her wall, as you commanded, three days ago. And if she still hasn't checked back in on the Facebooking world, then maybe its time for you to move on and find another hot MILF in her early thirties to mac on.
Let's face it. Obsessing over the same girl for months at a time is not an attractive quality.
And finally, Facebook, you are literally starting to drive me insane. And I know that is a short drive for me. But you've taken me out of the '73 Pinto with a top speed of 30 mph and put me on the bullet train to Facebook Hatersburg.
So, phooey on you.
This is war, dear Facebook. And as the immortal Highlander Intro used to say, "There can be only one!"
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Poor Man's Beef Wellington, Pork Style
I haven't put up a cooking post in awhile....so here's a little eye candy for you experimental types.
First, a little back story. Last night, Sandusky and I happened to catch a re-run of Good Eats on the FoodNetwork wherein Alton Brown made a Pork Wellington with dried apples. It looked super yummy and had several of our favorite cooking items: Pork Tenderloin! Apples! Puff Pastry!
We decided that, at some point, we would totally try that.
As it happened, I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up some detergent so that we can do laundry tonight, when I happened upon one of those periodic Two For One! Pork Tenderloin deals.
They were the already seasoned pork tenderloins...but one of the available seasonings was apple bourbon. When I saw that, I could not resist. With the addition of a pork tenderloin and the puff pastry we already had in the fridge, I knew we would have our very own little Good Eats experiment much sooner than we originally thought!
So, I came home, started defrosting the puff pastry and dug around in the fridge to see what else we had to work with. And this is where I will admit something. I didn't bother to look up Alton Brown's recipe that I just linked to above.
Because the computer was far away from the kitchen. And because looking up things on the Internet is hard. And because, well, I was just too lazy. And I wanted to play with what I found in the fridge.
So, this is our modified Pork Wellington....
First I diced up one small white onion and a couple cloves of garlic. Then, the star of the stuffing, a Granny Smith apple. Just one. I used a fresh one. Alton uses dried apples. We shall come back to the fresh vs. dried discussion very soon...
I also decided that I wanted to add a tiny bit of cheese just to really gel things together in the middle of the pork, so I used about half of this little package of goat cheese. I heart goat cheese. It is so yummy. And it goes very well with apples. And pork.
Then I took the goat cheese and dumped it in a mixing bowl with the diced onion, garlic, and apple. I sprinkled on a tad bit of salt, a couple teaspoons of brown sugar, and copious amounts of curry.
Yes, I said curry.
This is where I will stop and expound upon the perfection that is pork and apples and curry. That simple combination is, by far, one of my most favorite flavor combinations in the whole wide world.
Now, if you don't like curry, you could add any number of spices at this point in that bowl and mix away. But, I am telling you, if you even like curry a little, try the curry. It is perfection in food.
Anyway, back to the Pork Wellington....
So, then I commanded Sandusky to go fetch me some rosemary and thyme from the backyard. And I chopped it up nice and fine. This DOES NOT go in the mixing bowl. The mixing bowl had the innards. These spices are the outtards.
Now that you have everything chopped and mixed that needs to be chopped and mixed and the outtard spices all chopped and set aside, you take your pork tenderloin and split that little sucker right down the middle.
Now splay the tenderloin open like a hoagie sandwich and stuff it with the innards from the mixing bowl.
This is where things got kind of messy, consequently, I do not have pictures of the next step. But you sandwich the tenderloin back together, careful to keep as much of the stuffing in the middle as possible, then roll it in the rosemary and thyme, coating the outside of the meat with those spices all over.
It is a thing of beauty. Trust me.
Now, set that stuffed and coated pork aside and get out your rolling pin and puff pastry.
Roll out the puff pastry to make it just a little bigger than the size it comes packaged in. You want enough pastry to be able to wrap your tenderloin with a good bit of overlap so you can crimp the edges together all the way around. Obviously, the bigger the tenderloin, the bigger you will want to make your puff pastry.
Then coat the puff pastry with some mustard. Do not use plain old yellow mustard. Plain old yellow mustard is fine for hot dogs, but not for fancy good eats like this. We used a course brown spicy mustard with a tad bit of horseradish in it.
Now, lay the pork tenderloin in the middle of the mustard, and wrap the puff pastry around the pork tenderloin.
This is the part where, if your family hasn't been watching the whole process in the kitchen and only just now walks in to see what is for dinner, they will think you are making a giant super burrito for dinner.
Boy, won't they be surprised.
Now, flip the whole package over onto a greased cookie sheet so that the seams face down. Then coat the pastry in a light egg wash.
Now, bake at 400 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes, depending on how fat of a tenderloin you have. You want the middle to still be slightly pink and tender but still hot enough to fully cook the innards.
Half an hour (give or take five minutes) later, and Ta Da!
What a pretty little edible package.
Now, slice it open and prepare for the YUMMILICIOUS!
Now, as promised, this is the part where I said I would come back to the dried apples vs. the fresh apples.
We used fresh apples because that is what we had. Alton used dried apples. I did not think it would matter that much. But it did.
Our Pork Wellington was rather.....moist. Well, not just moist, it was down right runny. The combination of the fresh apples, the natural pork juices, (and probably the onions) left us with a whole lot of moisture and nowhere for it to go.
It was still good, (and the apples and the pork and the curry and the goat cheese is a perfect flavor combination) but after some discussion, I think that the next time we do this (and there will be a next time), Sandusky and I plan to tweak our experiment.
Next time, I think we will use dried apples, and maybe mix those dried apples with the onions, curry, garlic, and goat cheese, but also include just a tad bit of bread crumbs. The combination of those two changes (dried apples and bread crumbs) should alleviate the moisture problem.
Or, if you wanted to, you could just follow Alton's recipe. I'm sure he knows what he is doing. At least, better than we do.
Despite the excessive juices, our Pork Wellington was very good. So the next time we make it with those changes, I fully expect it to be perfection in a puff pastry.
And, as Alton would say, that is some good eats.
First, a little back story. Last night, Sandusky and I happened to catch a re-run of Good Eats on the FoodNetwork wherein Alton Brown made a Pork Wellington with dried apples. It looked super yummy and had several of our favorite cooking items: Pork Tenderloin! Apples! Puff Pastry!
We decided that, at some point, we would totally try that.
As it happened, I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up some detergent so that we can do laundry tonight, when I happened upon one of those periodic Two For One! Pork Tenderloin deals.
They were the already seasoned pork tenderloins...but one of the available seasonings was apple bourbon. When I saw that, I could not resist. With the addition of a pork tenderloin and the puff pastry we already had in the fridge, I knew we would have our very own little Good Eats experiment much sooner than we originally thought!
So, I came home, started defrosting the puff pastry and dug around in the fridge to see what else we had to work with. And this is where I will admit something. I didn't bother to look up Alton Brown's recipe that I just linked to above.
Because the computer was far away from the kitchen. And because looking up things on the Internet is hard. And because, well, I was just too lazy. And I wanted to play with what I found in the fridge.
So, this is our modified Pork Wellington....
First I diced up one small white onion and a couple cloves of garlic. Then, the star of the stuffing, a Granny Smith apple. Just one. I used a fresh one. Alton uses dried apples. We shall come back to the fresh vs. dried discussion very soon...
I also decided that I wanted to add a tiny bit of cheese just to really gel things together in the middle of the pork, so I used about half of this little package of goat cheese. I heart goat cheese. It is so yummy. And it goes very well with apples. And pork.
Then I took the goat cheese and dumped it in a mixing bowl with the diced onion, garlic, and apple. I sprinkled on a tad bit of salt, a couple teaspoons of brown sugar, and copious amounts of curry.
Yes, I said curry.
This is where I will stop and expound upon the perfection that is pork and apples and curry. That simple combination is, by far, one of my most favorite flavor combinations in the whole wide world.
Now, if you don't like curry, you could add any number of spices at this point in that bowl and mix away. But, I am telling you, if you even like curry a little, try the curry. It is perfection in food.
Anyway, back to the Pork Wellington....
So, then I commanded Sandusky to go fetch me some rosemary and thyme from the backyard. And I chopped it up nice and fine. This DOES NOT go in the mixing bowl. The mixing bowl had the innards. These spices are the outtards.
Now that you have everything chopped and mixed that needs to be chopped and mixed and the outtard spices all chopped and set aside, you take your pork tenderloin and split that little sucker right down the middle.
Now splay the tenderloin open like a hoagie sandwich and stuff it with the innards from the mixing bowl.
This is where things got kind of messy, consequently, I do not have pictures of the next step. But you sandwich the tenderloin back together, careful to keep as much of the stuffing in the middle as possible, then roll it in the rosemary and thyme, coating the outside of the meat with those spices all over.
It is a thing of beauty. Trust me.
Now, set that stuffed and coated pork aside and get out your rolling pin and puff pastry.
Roll out the puff pastry to make it just a little bigger than the size it comes packaged in. You want enough pastry to be able to wrap your tenderloin with a good bit of overlap so you can crimp the edges together all the way around. Obviously, the bigger the tenderloin, the bigger you will want to make your puff pastry.
Then coat the puff pastry with some mustard. Do not use plain old yellow mustard. Plain old yellow mustard is fine for hot dogs, but not for fancy good eats like this. We used a course brown spicy mustard with a tad bit of horseradish in it.
Now, lay the pork tenderloin in the middle of the mustard, and wrap the puff pastry around the pork tenderloin.
This is the part where, if your family hasn't been watching the whole process in the kitchen and only just now walks in to see what is for dinner, they will think you are making a giant super burrito for dinner.
Boy, won't they be surprised.
Now, flip the whole package over onto a greased cookie sheet so that the seams face down. Then coat the pastry in a light egg wash.
Now, bake at 400 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes, depending on how fat of a tenderloin you have. You want the middle to still be slightly pink and tender but still hot enough to fully cook the innards.
Half an hour (give or take five minutes) later, and Ta Da!
What a pretty little edible package.
Now, slice it open and prepare for the YUMMILICIOUS!
Now, as promised, this is the part where I said I would come back to the dried apples vs. the fresh apples.
We used fresh apples because that is what we had. Alton used dried apples. I did not think it would matter that much. But it did.
Our Pork Wellington was rather.....moist. Well, not just moist, it was down right runny. The combination of the fresh apples, the natural pork juices, (and probably the onions) left us with a whole lot of moisture and nowhere for it to go.
It was still good, (and the apples and the pork and the curry and the goat cheese is a perfect flavor combination) but after some discussion, I think that the next time we do this (and there will be a next time), Sandusky and I plan to tweak our experiment.
Next time, I think we will use dried apples, and maybe mix those dried apples with the onions, curry, garlic, and goat cheese, but also include just a tad bit of bread crumbs. The combination of those two changes (dried apples and bread crumbs) should alleviate the moisture problem.
Or, if you wanted to, you could just follow Alton's recipe. I'm sure he knows what he is doing. At least, better than we do.
Despite the excessive juices, our Pork Wellington was very good. So the next time we make it with those changes, I fully expect it to be perfection in a puff pastry.
And, as Alton would say, that is some good eats.
Roya's Fabulous Birthday
Just a few birthday pictures from Roya's birthday cocktail hour at the Lyon on Wednesday night...
Here's Bertha, holding Gypsy's little nugget...
Here's Bertha, Roya, and Enarda
Sandusky and myself, doing our best to look as cheesy as possible. I think we succeeded...
And Clint and Xan, as photogenic as ever!
And here's Enarda and Lori, chit chatting away!
I missed several others who were in attendance as the evening wore on and I started lifting my pint glass more than my camera...but it was a lovely, relaxing, laid back celebration!
Hope you had a Fabulously Happy Birthday, Roya!
Here's Bertha, holding Gypsy's little nugget...
Here's Bertha, Roya, and Enarda
Sandusky and myself, doing our best to look as cheesy as possible. I think we succeeded...
And Clint and Xan, as photogenic as ever!
And here's Enarda and Lori, chit chatting away!
I missed several others who were in attendance as the evening wore on and I started lifting my pint glass more than my camera...but it was a lovely, relaxing, laid back celebration!
Hope you had a Fabulously Happy Birthday, Roya!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Dynamic Duo
After Sandusky and I finished watching our DVR'd episode of Top Chef tonight (because why watch TV in real time when you can start your show 15 minutes later and fast forward through all the commercials and still end the show on time?) we switched back to "regular" TV and found ourselves on whatever annoying battered women's network (Lifetime? WE? Oxygen?) was airing You've Got Mail with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
Before I go any further with this story, let me just stop right here and admit that Sleepless In Seattle is still one of those movies that just makes my heart warm when I watch it.
I mean, yeah, its cliche and kitschy, and all that sweet and sappy stuff, but it was cute when it came out and I enjoyed it. But You've Got Mail?
You've Got Mail is one of those movies that makes me throw things at the television and scream things like, "Ummmmm, HELLO!! Did you two FORGET in your old age that you made THIS SAME MOVIE like TEN YEARS AGO?!?! Only you did it much better back then because it was, you know, LIKE (somewhat) ORIGINAL at the time?!"
Anyway, so I was willfully ignoring the movie while updating my Facebook status (because I still am indulging in my love/hate relationship with Facebook) and Sandusky walked in and said something to the effect of how he wouldn't mind if Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan were to make yet another Sleepless Reduex sometime soon.
As I stared at him in disbelief, he tried to justify this crazy-talk by explaining that our generation doesn't really have a "classic screen duo" a la the 40's and the 50's and Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey.
After thinking about that statement for a minute, I had to agree. Not with the idea that Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan might be our generation's Hepburn-Tracey. No, I had to agree that our generation just doesn't really have any classic sort of opposite-sex screen duo.
And that made me a little sad.
But here's the thing, I don't think that has anything to do with the quality of actors and actresses out there in Hollywood. I think it has to do with the writers.
I mean, seriously. How many times can I watch Meg Ryan play Meg Ryan in a movie? Or what about poor Diane Keaton who, ever since she turned 40, suddenly has to always play the same frazzled mom character in every movie she gets to star in?
Watch Adam's Rib and then turn around and watch Woman of the Year or Guess Who's Coming To Dinner--all of which are fantastic Hepburn-Tracey films. The fact of the matter is that Hepburn almost always plays a strong, independent woman, quite the equal (if not superior) of her male counterparts.
But though it would be easy for these two actors who knew each other well (very well, as the rumor mill had it) and commonly starred opposite each other to fall into the pattern of playing the same characters, just in a different plot from one movie to the next, they never did.
Each character has a depth and richness to it, individual to each movie they made. Which keeps the audience from feeling like just because they've seen a Hepburn-Tracey movie before, doesn't mean that they have seen this movie before.
That is why I hate You've Got Mail. Because I can't shake the feeling as I am watching it that I have already seen this movie before.
And while Hepburn and Tracey were superb actors who could, I am sure, out-act most, if not all, of the current crop of Hollywood talent, I actually don't think that ability to keep things fresh, despite acting opposite the same old face over and over again has all that much to do with the actors themselves.
I think that modern screen-writers simply seem to have lost their interest in true character development.
I will admit that movies today seem to have a much wider variety of plot lines and themes and action sequences, all of which thrill and entertain modern movie goers, including myself.
But it is a rare movie indeed from which I come away feeling like the actual characters have been something more than one-dimensional caricatures of the prototypical characters in the storyline.
I still think Meg Ryan is adorable but likely unable to act her way out of a paper sack.
But I guess I can't really blame her if she plays herself in every movie she makes if the writers keep going back to the well of the quiescently "Meg Ryan" character in movie after movie after movie. (Example: every Meg Ryan, Jennifer Aniston, and Sandra Bullock movie ever made.)
I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I might be starving for real character development in my movies. And until the state of our screen writing improves, I don't know that we will see a truly classic Hepburn-Tracey-like pairing again for a long, long time.
Before I go any further with this story, let me just stop right here and admit that Sleepless In Seattle is still one of those movies that just makes my heart warm when I watch it.
I mean, yeah, its cliche and kitschy, and all that sweet and sappy stuff, but it was cute when it came out and I enjoyed it. But You've Got Mail?
You've Got Mail is one of those movies that makes me throw things at the television and scream things like, "Ummmmm, HELLO!! Did you two FORGET in your old age that you made THIS SAME MOVIE like TEN YEARS AGO?!?! Only you did it much better back then because it was, you know, LIKE (somewhat) ORIGINAL at the time?!"
Anyway, so I was willfully ignoring the movie while updating my Facebook status (because I still am indulging in my love/hate relationship with Facebook) and Sandusky walked in and said something to the effect of how he wouldn't mind if Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan were to make yet another Sleepless Reduex sometime soon.
As I stared at him in disbelief, he tried to justify this crazy-talk by explaining that our generation doesn't really have a "classic screen duo" a la the 40's and the 50's and Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey.
After thinking about that statement for a minute, I had to agree. Not with the idea that Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan might be our generation's Hepburn-Tracey. No, I had to agree that our generation just doesn't really have any classic sort of opposite-sex screen duo.
And that made me a little sad.
But here's the thing, I don't think that has anything to do with the quality of actors and actresses out there in Hollywood. I think it has to do with the writers.
I mean, seriously. How many times can I watch Meg Ryan play Meg Ryan in a movie? Or what about poor Diane Keaton who, ever since she turned 40, suddenly has to always play the same frazzled mom character in every movie she gets to star in?
Watch Adam's Rib and then turn around and watch Woman of the Year or Guess Who's Coming To Dinner--all of which are fantastic Hepburn-Tracey films. The fact of the matter is that Hepburn almost always plays a strong, independent woman, quite the equal (if not superior) of her male counterparts.
But though it would be easy for these two actors who knew each other well (very well, as the rumor mill had it) and commonly starred opposite each other to fall into the pattern of playing the same characters, just in a different plot from one movie to the next, they never did.
Each character has a depth and richness to it, individual to each movie they made. Which keeps the audience from feeling like just because they've seen a Hepburn-Tracey movie before, doesn't mean that they have seen this movie before.
That is why I hate You've Got Mail. Because I can't shake the feeling as I am watching it that I have already seen this movie before.
And while Hepburn and Tracey were superb actors who could, I am sure, out-act most, if not all, of the current crop of Hollywood talent, I actually don't think that ability to keep things fresh, despite acting opposite the same old face over and over again has all that much to do with the actors themselves.
I think that modern screen-writers simply seem to have lost their interest in true character development.
I will admit that movies today seem to have a much wider variety of plot lines and themes and action sequences, all of which thrill and entertain modern movie goers, including myself.
But it is a rare movie indeed from which I come away feeling like the actual characters have been something more than one-dimensional caricatures of the prototypical characters in the storyline.
I still think Meg Ryan is adorable but likely unable to act her way out of a paper sack.
But I guess I can't really blame her if she plays herself in every movie she makes if the writers keep going back to the well of the quiescently "Meg Ryan" character in movie after movie after movie. (Example: every Meg Ryan, Jennifer Aniston, and Sandra Bullock movie ever made.)
I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I might be starving for real character development in my movies. And until the state of our screen writing improves, I don't know that we will see a truly classic Hepburn-Tracey-like pairing again for a long, long time.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I Fought the Facebook And Facebook Won
So, for weeks now when I sign on to Facebook (or FB, to those of us who are "in the know") there has been a little note in the corner of my homepage, telling me to write on BestFriend's wall.
Sometimes it says, "Hey! Write on BestFriend's wall!" Other times it says things like, "Make BestFriend feel more welcome, post something on her wall!" Then still other times it says things like, "Make BestFriend feel more connected! Write on her wall!"
And every time I see one of these WRITE ON HER WALL! instructions, I silently tell Facebook to go f*ck itself.
Because I am not a follower, Facebook! I wouldn't jump off a bridge just because Facebook told me to! And therefore I will not WRITE ON BESTFRIEND'S WALL just because Facebook has some sort of unnatural obsession with BestFriend and her freaking Facebook wall.
(And yes, I do recognize the irony in insisting that I am NOT A FOLLOWER while discussing my Facebooking habits. So, as Sandusky and I like to say when we recognize that we have said something silly but don't want to admit it, Shutupf*ckyouandyoudon'tknow.)
Anyhoo. So the whole WRITE ON HER WALL! thing has started to annoy me. Because, see, here's the thing. BestFriend is MY BESTFRIEND. I talk to her all the time. ON THE PHONE. Because, unlike probably 65% of the FB users, I was born prior to 1987 and therefore still consider the PHONE my primary device for communication with the outside world.
I know, I know. How archaic of me.
As a matter of fact, as I was talking to BestFriend on the PHONE last night, she mentioned that she never checks her Facebook account anymore because it is blocked at her school and once she gets home, that whole kids/husband/housework/dinner/grading fourth grade papers for school stuff sort of gets in the way of her computer time.
That was when I realized that Facebook doesn't really care about making BestFriend feel welcome, or getting BestFriend and I to communicate better, or any of that bullcrap. Instead, Facebook was trying to force me to bring one of the lost sheep back into the fold.
Ah ha, Facebook! I figured out your nefarious plans! And I decided to THWART you!
But then, tonight, I signed online to see that Lynette made it home from her trip, that Randall needed help with Mafia Wars, that Sarah was in the Phog, and that Meryl liked that Sarah was in the Phog and there, in the corner, was Facebook's little note to me saying, "WRITE ON BESTFRIEND'S WALL!" And I just could resist no longer.
Really, I just wanted Facebook to shut up and drop this whole obsession with getting BestFriend back into the daily habit of checking her Facebook account. So I caved. And I wrote on BestFriend's wall. And this is what I posted:
I felt so relieved as I hit the "share" button. Because I thought that maybe, just maybe, Facebook would let me social network in peace without making unreasonable demands of me.
I mean, it won! It got me to post on BestFriend's wall, despite my desperate attempts to avoid it's cult-like insistence that I follow its meaningless directions!
And then I switched back to my homepage. And there in the corner was a new little message from Facebook:
No, Facebook. You will not trick me again. I will NOT suggest a Facebook picture for Nate.
I mean, WTF? I don't even talk to Nate anymore. He moved to Ohio like three years ago. And if Nate doesn't want to update his Facebook picture, then that is no concern of mine. In fact, up until I saw that note from Facebook, I didn't even know I was friends with Nate.
Facebook, I am not playing with you anymore. I am now logging off...
...and logging in to Twitter. Because Twitter? Twitter does not command me to do things against my will. And because I can't NOT have at least one social networking site up at all times.
Because society demands that I network with it online. And I do what society tells me to. Unless society (a.k.a. The Facebook Gods) tell me to post on someone's wall. Because I have to draw the line in the sand somewhere.
Sometimes it says, "Hey! Write on BestFriend's wall!" Other times it says things like, "Make BestFriend feel more welcome, post something on her wall!" Then still other times it says things like, "Make BestFriend feel more connected! Write on her wall!"
And every time I see one of these WRITE ON HER WALL! instructions, I silently tell Facebook to go f*ck itself.
Because I am not a follower, Facebook! I wouldn't jump off a bridge just because Facebook told me to! And therefore I will not WRITE ON BESTFRIEND'S WALL just because Facebook has some sort of unnatural obsession with BestFriend and her freaking Facebook wall.
(And yes, I do recognize the irony in insisting that I am NOT A FOLLOWER while discussing my Facebooking habits. So, as Sandusky and I like to say when we recognize that we have said something silly but don't want to admit it, Shutupf*ckyouandyoudon'tknow.)
Anyhoo. So the whole WRITE ON HER WALL! thing has started to annoy me. Because, see, here's the thing. BestFriend is MY BESTFRIEND. I talk to her all the time. ON THE PHONE. Because, unlike probably 65% of the FB users, I was born prior to 1987 and therefore still consider the PHONE my primary device for communication with the outside world.
I know, I know. How archaic of me.
As a matter of fact, as I was talking to BestFriend on the PHONE last night, she mentioned that she never checks her Facebook account anymore because it is blocked at her school and once she gets home, that whole kids/husband/housework/dinner/grading fourth grade papers for school stuff sort of gets in the way of her computer time.
That was when I realized that Facebook doesn't really care about making BestFriend feel welcome, or getting BestFriend and I to communicate better, or any of that bullcrap. Instead, Facebook was trying to force me to bring one of the lost sheep back into the fold.
Ah ha, Facebook! I figured out your nefarious plans! And I decided to THWART you!
But then, tonight, I signed online to see that Lynette made it home from her trip, that Randall needed help with Mafia Wars, that Sarah was in the Phog, and that Meryl liked that Sarah was in the Phog and there, in the corner, was Facebook's little note to me saying, "WRITE ON BESTFRIEND'S WALL!" And I just could resist no longer.
Really, I just wanted Facebook to shut up and drop this whole obsession with getting BestFriend back into the daily habit of checking her Facebook account. So I caved. And I wrote on BestFriend's wall. And this is what I posted:
"Facebook keeps pressuring me to talk to your wall. I guess Facebook doesn't know that I have your phone number and I know how to use it. Facebook is such a freaking wall-posting pusher."
I felt so relieved as I hit the "share" button. Because I thought that maybe, just maybe, Facebook would let me social network in peace without making unreasonable demands of me.
I mean, it won! It got me to post on BestFriend's wall, despite my desperate attempts to avoid it's cult-like insistence that I follow its meaningless directions!
And then I switched back to my homepage. And there in the corner was a new little message from Facebook:
"Nathan Webb needs a Facebook picture. Suggest a Facebook picture for Nathan Webb."
No, Facebook. You will not trick me again. I will NOT suggest a Facebook picture for Nate.
I mean, WTF? I don't even talk to Nate anymore. He moved to Ohio like three years ago. And if Nate doesn't want to update his Facebook picture, then that is no concern of mine. In fact, up until I saw that note from Facebook, I didn't even know I was friends with Nate.
Facebook, I am not playing with you anymore. I am now logging off...
...and logging in to Twitter. Because Twitter? Twitter does not command me to do things against my will. And because I can't NOT have at least one social networking site up at all times.
Because society demands that I network with it online. And I do what society tells me to. Unless society (a.k.a. The Facebook Gods) tell me to post on someone's wall. Because I have to draw the line in the sand somewhere.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Postponed
Just a quick word out to anyone that we may have advertised our proposed Chess night with Spaghetti dinner to on Tuesday night (11/10)....Sandusky and I are going to postpone the shindig for a later date.
After weathering a bout with the flu last week, Fate has apparently decided to curse me this week with a persistent sore throat that just won't quit---yippee! So, in addition to not feeling up to hosting guests, I don't want to make anyone else sick!
However, after I manage to get out of the sick house, it will be on like Donkey Kong! And it may involve more games than just chess! So we will keep ya'll in the loop when we reschedule the dinner and game night!!
xoxoxoxo,
Moxie & Sandusky
After weathering a bout with the flu last week, Fate has apparently decided to curse me this week with a persistent sore throat that just won't quit---yippee! So, in addition to not feeling up to hosting guests, I don't want to make anyone else sick!
However, after I manage to get out of the sick house, it will be on like Donkey Kong! And it may involve more games than just chess! So we will keep ya'll in the loop when we reschedule the dinner and game night!!
xoxoxoxo,
Moxie & Sandusky
Sunday, November 08, 2009
PMS Made My Library Ugly
Just in case you are in a hurry and don't have time to read a full post here, I will give you the moral of the story up front:
DO NOT let PMS pick your paint colors. PMS is a bitch. A bitch with no taste in paint colors.
I woke up feeling pretty good yesterday morning. I lounged around the house, played on Teh Internets, waxed poetic about sweet potatoes, and made plans for the rest of the day. It all started off so well...
I dropped Sandusky off out in the country so he could brew with Rosie's Hubby, then I came back to town and decided to just stop at Target to do a little Christmas shopping. And I was excited about Target. I heart Target. And its all the way on the most opposite side of town as it could possibly be from my house and so I don't get out there as much as I would like.
While shopping Target for random Christmas goodies, I suddenly got a burr under my behind. I needed a curtain for the new Library. Just one curtain. A seemingly simple task.
You see, I've been putting off painting the new library until I found a pretty curtain to go in the room. My thought was that I would find a pretty curtain and then pick the paint color for the room based on the colors in the curtain.
Looking back on it now, that was the point when things started going downhill.
Because Target, for once, actually FAILED ME. Their curtains all sucked. They were ugly. And nasty. And stupid looking. Which is TOTALLY UNLIKE Target! I was so very sad that I could not find an appropriately cute curtain for the library at Target.
So I took my search across the parking lot to Pier One--a store which has never met a fancy, outrageously colored curtain that it didn't like.
But, once again, after searching the wall display and the bargain bin for the perfect curtain, and finding twenty dollars worth of other non-curtain related items to buy, I came up curtainless again.
Now this had turned into a quest.
So I moved on to the other side of Iowa Street and went to Bed Bath and Beyond. I mean, come on. That store has more curtains than God. Surely I could find a curtain there. And find a curtain I did.
Only it wasn't the pretty, multi-colored perfect curtain that I had been picturing in my mind. Instead it was a very pretty, gauzy taupe colored curtain with off white embroidered flowers. Not what I was picturing, but it was quite literally the ONLY curtain that I saw during my search that I actually liked.
So I bought it. Knowing that it was too long for the window now that the window seat had been installed. And knowing that because of the neutral color of the curtain, I could, quite literally, pick any color I wanted for the library, since I no longer had to be concerned with matching the curtain.
On my way home from the store, I called Rikki--Queen of All Things Requiring a Sewing Machine--and made plans to go for a walk with her and her puppy and also requested her help hemming my curtain. She graciously agreed.
On the way home, I stopped at the Home Despot and picked up some paint chips, including some neutral tones, some greens, and on a total whim, a few buttery colored yellows. Even though I knew yellow just simply would not look right in the library. But my new found freedom in being able to pick ANY COLOR I WANTED made me drunk with color power.
It was during our walk about an hour later that I started to feel funny. And girls, I think you know what I mean when I say "feel funny." As we walked, I silently did the math in my head. Yep, yep, yep--it was that time of the month. Like clockwork.
We went back to Rikki's house after the walk, where she did an excellent job hemming my curtain to the appropriate length. After thanking her profusely (THANKS RIKKI!!!), I brought the curtain home and hung it up. It just looked so pretty and perfect in the little window. And suddenly I was filled with the intense desire to FINISH THAT ROOM.
So, I splayed out the color chips I brought home with me and studied which colors looked the best. One particular taupe called Pecan Sandie actually looked the best out of all of them, but our whole living room is a very similar Johnson County beige and I just didn't want more beige in the house.
Then I played with the greens. And the greens were actually the original color I had considered painting the library. Because nothing says calm and relaxing as a nice sage or calming grassy green. And green seems to look the best with the light pecan color of the bookshelves.
And, sure enough, I had picked among the various paint chips, a lovely green that looked perfect. It was called "Rejuvenate," which seemed to be a perfect name for our newly rehabbed room.
But I went ahead and pulled out the yellows. I have a soft spot for yellows. They are just so bright and happy looking. And I am madly in love with the soft buttery yellow in our dining room. In fact, that yellow makes the dining room my most favorite room in the house.
Yet, the yellow just didn't look right next to the color of the bookshelves. And I knew it. But I kept a nice pretty paint chip called "Song of Summer" in the mix just because I love the color yellow so much.
That was my second mistake.
After I had narrowed down my paint choices to Pecan Sandie, Rejuvenate, and Song of Summer, Sandusky called, ready for me to drive out to the country to fetch him back to the city. And on my way out of town, I decided to stop at the Home Despot to get my paint, with the plan of coming back to the house after dinner and painting that extra room. Because I had an irrational need to FINISH that room.
That was my third mistake.
I went inside the store and got a couple other things that we needed, all the while silently contemplating the paint color I was about to choose. Again, I just couldn't bring myself to pick the Pecan Sandie, as nice as it looked. And while the green would be totally pretty, I just couldn't quite bring myself to walk away from the Song of Summer yellow.
Then, suddenly, I got a raging headache. (Can we say "hormones"?!?!) That was when I immediately decided that YELLOW!!!! YELLOW!!!! WAS THE COLOR!!!!
I mean, I heart yellow! And its so bright and happy! And it would make that room bright and happy too! And the yellow in the dinning room looks just fine with the pecan colored woodwork! So yellow will look great in that extra room! EVEN THOUGH I KNEW THAT WASN'T TRUE.
I mean, I had just had the paint chip right up next to the wood work less than fifteen minutes before and couldn't get over how sickening and ugly it had looked. But, you see, sometime between when I left the house and when I walked into Home Despot, PMS ATE MY BRAIN.
The sad thing is that I should have known it too. I mean, at one point, I was standing there with the sweet little paint guy that always works the paint counter at Home Depot and we were both just silently standing there, waiting for the Song of Summer paint to finish mixing, when he suddenly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. But the fact that he had just shifted his weight made me want to reach across the counter and strangle him and then beat him to a pulp. BECAUSE THAT'S NOT CRAZY, AT ALL.
I collected my YELLOW! paint and picked up Sandusky from the country. We had a lovely little dinner down on Mass Street. Then we came home and I started to paint the library.
And I loved the pretty yellow color. Because I love yellows. But, about two hours in, as I got right up next to the bookshelves with my paint brush, I knew it was not turning out well. I sat back on a chair and took a break. And started to cry.
It looks horrific. Butt ugly, nasty, sickly stupid ugly. The color was so pretty, but it just looked terrible next to the wood of the bookshelves.
At that point, I decided I was just tired. "It will look better in the morning when I've had some rest," I told myself as I packed up the paint supplies and put them out of the reach of the kitties.
So I slept on it.
And when I got up this morning, the first thing I did was walk into the library. And then I burst into tears. It was even more ugly than it had been last night. And DARKER. Somehow the paint got even DARKER than it had been. Which made it UGLIER. If that was even possible.
Soon thereafter Sandusky found me curled up in a little ball on the bed sobbing hysterically about how ugly I had made the library! And how it was ruined! And life as I knew it was over!
And being the sweet guy that he is, he curled up next to me and hugged me and tried to console me and said he would help me repaint it later if I wanted. Then he tried to give me the "world it not ending over the paint color of our library" speech.
Through my tears, I just looked at him like he was crazy. "I know its just paint!" I said exasperated. "Then why are you so upset!?" he asked, completely confused.
"BECAUSE MY PMS MADE THE LIBRARY UGLY!" I declared. "Oh!" Sandusky said, with new perspective on my crying jag, "You mean this is about your hormones?"
"YES!" I said.
He just laughed a little and then hugged me again and asked me what I needed to make me feel better. I thought about it a minute and declared that a nice, long bath would make me feel more normal. And pancakes. He agreed that he could certainly make me some pancakes.
So, here we are, several hours past Hormonal Meltdown Time, and I'm relaxed from my bath and my tummy is full of pancakes. And Sandusky is out working on the leaves in the front yard, while I am getting ready to open up my record that I need to read for work. And my library is still ugly.
But the world did not end. And we are going to spend Thanksgiving break repainting the library in a nice, mellow shade of "rejuvenate" green.
And I will never buy paint while PMSing again.
DO NOT let PMS pick your paint colors. PMS is a bitch. A bitch with no taste in paint colors.
I woke up feeling pretty good yesterday morning. I lounged around the house, played on Teh Internets, waxed poetic about sweet potatoes, and made plans for the rest of the day. It all started off so well...
I dropped Sandusky off out in the country so he could brew with Rosie's Hubby, then I came back to town and decided to just stop at Target to do a little Christmas shopping. And I was excited about Target. I heart Target. And its all the way on the most opposite side of town as it could possibly be from my house and so I don't get out there as much as I would like.
While shopping Target for random Christmas goodies, I suddenly got a burr under my behind. I needed a curtain for the new Library. Just one curtain. A seemingly simple task.
You see, I've been putting off painting the new library until I found a pretty curtain to go in the room. My thought was that I would find a pretty curtain and then pick the paint color for the room based on the colors in the curtain.
Looking back on it now, that was the point when things started going downhill.
Because Target, for once, actually FAILED ME. Their curtains all sucked. They were ugly. And nasty. And stupid looking. Which is TOTALLY UNLIKE Target! I was so very sad that I could not find an appropriately cute curtain for the library at Target.
So I took my search across the parking lot to Pier One--a store which has never met a fancy, outrageously colored curtain that it didn't like.
But, once again, after searching the wall display and the bargain bin for the perfect curtain, and finding twenty dollars worth of other non-curtain related items to buy, I came up curtainless again.
Now this had turned into a quest.
So I moved on to the other side of Iowa Street and went to Bed Bath and Beyond. I mean, come on. That store has more curtains than God. Surely I could find a curtain there. And find a curtain I did.
Only it wasn't the pretty, multi-colored perfect curtain that I had been picturing in my mind. Instead it was a very pretty, gauzy taupe colored curtain with off white embroidered flowers. Not what I was picturing, but it was quite literally the ONLY curtain that I saw during my search that I actually liked.
So I bought it. Knowing that it was too long for the window now that the window seat had been installed. And knowing that because of the neutral color of the curtain, I could, quite literally, pick any color I wanted for the library, since I no longer had to be concerned with matching the curtain.
On my way home from the store, I called Rikki--Queen of All Things Requiring a Sewing Machine--and made plans to go for a walk with her and her puppy and also requested her help hemming my curtain. She graciously agreed.
On the way home, I stopped at the Home Despot and picked up some paint chips, including some neutral tones, some greens, and on a total whim, a few buttery colored yellows. Even though I knew yellow just simply would not look right in the library. But my new found freedom in being able to pick ANY COLOR I WANTED made me drunk with color power.
It was during our walk about an hour later that I started to feel funny. And girls, I think you know what I mean when I say "feel funny." As we walked, I silently did the math in my head. Yep, yep, yep--it was that time of the month. Like clockwork.
We went back to Rikki's house after the walk, where she did an excellent job hemming my curtain to the appropriate length. After thanking her profusely (THANKS RIKKI!!!), I brought the curtain home and hung it up. It just looked so pretty and perfect in the little window. And suddenly I was filled with the intense desire to FINISH THAT ROOM.
So, I splayed out the color chips I brought home with me and studied which colors looked the best. One particular taupe called Pecan Sandie actually looked the best out of all of them, but our whole living room is a very similar Johnson County beige and I just didn't want more beige in the house.
Then I played with the greens. And the greens were actually the original color I had considered painting the library. Because nothing says calm and relaxing as a nice sage or calming grassy green. And green seems to look the best with the light pecan color of the bookshelves.
And, sure enough, I had picked among the various paint chips, a lovely green that looked perfect. It was called "Rejuvenate," which seemed to be a perfect name for our newly rehabbed room.
But I went ahead and pulled out the yellows. I have a soft spot for yellows. They are just so bright and happy looking. And I am madly in love with the soft buttery yellow in our dining room. In fact, that yellow makes the dining room my most favorite room in the house.
Yet, the yellow just didn't look right next to the color of the bookshelves. And I knew it. But I kept a nice pretty paint chip called "Song of Summer" in the mix just because I love the color yellow so much.
That was my second mistake.
After I had narrowed down my paint choices to Pecan Sandie, Rejuvenate, and Song of Summer, Sandusky called, ready for me to drive out to the country to fetch him back to the city. And on my way out of town, I decided to stop at the Home Despot to get my paint, with the plan of coming back to the house after dinner and painting that extra room. Because I had an irrational need to FINISH that room.
That was my third mistake.
I went inside the store and got a couple other things that we needed, all the while silently contemplating the paint color I was about to choose. Again, I just couldn't bring myself to pick the Pecan Sandie, as nice as it looked. And while the green would be totally pretty, I just couldn't quite bring myself to walk away from the Song of Summer yellow.
Then, suddenly, I got a raging headache. (Can we say "hormones"?!?!) That was when I immediately decided that YELLOW!!!! YELLOW!!!! WAS THE COLOR!!!!
I mean, I heart yellow! And its so bright and happy! And it would make that room bright and happy too! And the yellow in the dinning room looks just fine with the pecan colored woodwork! So yellow will look great in that extra room! EVEN THOUGH I KNEW THAT WASN'T TRUE.
I mean, I had just had the paint chip right up next to the wood work less than fifteen minutes before and couldn't get over how sickening and ugly it had looked. But, you see, sometime between when I left the house and when I walked into Home Despot, PMS ATE MY BRAIN.
The sad thing is that I should have known it too. I mean, at one point, I was standing there with the sweet little paint guy that always works the paint counter at Home Depot and we were both just silently standing there, waiting for the Song of Summer paint to finish mixing, when he suddenly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. But the fact that he had just shifted his weight made me want to reach across the counter and strangle him and then beat him to a pulp. BECAUSE THAT'S NOT CRAZY, AT ALL.
I collected my YELLOW! paint and picked up Sandusky from the country. We had a lovely little dinner down on Mass Street. Then we came home and I started to paint the library.
And I loved the pretty yellow color. Because I love yellows. But, about two hours in, as I got right up next to the bookshelves with my paint brush, I knew it was not turning out well. I sat back on a chair and took a break. And started to cry.
It looks horrific. Butt ugly, nasty, sickly stupid ugly. The color was so pretty, but it just looked terrible next to the wood of the bookshelves.
At that point, I decided I was just tired. "It will look better in the morning when I've had some rest," I told myself as I packed up the paint supplies and put them out of the reach of the kitties.
So I slept on it.
And when I got up this morning, the first thing I did was walk into the library. And then I burst into tears. It was even more ugly than it had been last night. And DARKER. Somehow the paint got even DARKER than it had been. Which made it UGLIER. If that was even possible.
Soon thereafter Sandusky found me curled up in a little ball on the bed sobbing hysterically about how ugly I had made the library! And how it was ruined! And life as I knew it was over!
And being the sweet guy that he is, he curled up next to me and hugged me and tried to console me and said he would help me repaint it later if I wanted. Then he tried to give me the "world it not ending over the paint color of our library" speech.
Through my tears, I just looked at him like he was crazy. "I know its just paint!" I said exasperated. "Then why are you so upset!?" he asked, completely confused.
"BECAUSE MY PMS MADE THE LIBRARY UGLY!" I declared. "Oh!" Sandusky said, with new perspective on my crying jag, "You mean this is about your hormones?"
"YES!" I said.
He just laughed a little and then hugged me again and asked me what I needed to make me feel better. I thought about it a minute and declared that a nice, long bath would make me feel more normal. And pancakes. He agreed that he could certainly make me some pancakes.
So, here we are, several hours past Hormonal Meltdown Time, and I'm relaxed from my bath and my tummy is full of pancakes. And Sandusky is out working on the leaves in the front yard, while I am getting ready to open up my record that I need to read for work. And my library is still ugly.
But the world did not end. And we are going to spend Thanksgiving break repainting the library in a nice, mellow shade of "rejuvenate" green.
And I will never buy paint while PMSing again.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Sweet Cheesecake
Gypsy's recent post about Thanksgiving side dishes reminded me that yes, once again, it is THAT time of year.
And by THAT time of year, I mean it is time to make the SWEET POTATO CHEESECAKE.
I kind of have an obsession with sweet potatoes. I heart them. They make me so happy with their sweet tubular yummy goodness. I would never eat a real potato again if it wasn't for the fact that Sandusky refuses to eat sweet potatoes.
Because of my sincere devotion to the sweet potato, Thanksgiving is one of my most favorite food holidays of the year.
And every year, I would totally skip the pecan and pumpkin pies and just load up on those marshmallow sweet potatoes that are technically supposed to be a side dish for dinner but which, due to their extreme sweetness, I always used as my dessert.
But there is one problem with that oh so traditional sweet potato Thanksgiving dish. It is, well, how shall I put it---TOO FREAKING SWEET.
There, I said it. Too Sweet. And yes, there is such a thing.
One big helping of those marshmallow sweet potatoes and I spend the next week after Thanksgiving in a diabetic coma.
So, last year, I took my obsession with the sweet potato to a whole new level and decided to try and concoct a simple, easy to make dessert for Thanksgiving dinner involving a sweet potato but that was not so sweet as to prevent you from having MORE THAN ONE HELPING.
Because what is Thanksgiving really, but the Holiday of HOW MANY HELPINGS CAN I CONSUME WITHOUT BURSTING?
And that is one of the things I love about cheesecake--traditional, old fashioned cheesecake has just enough sugar in it to make it sweet, but it is otherwise one of the least sweet desserts out there.
So, I took my most favorite cheesecake recipe--the super, secret, cheesecake to die for recipe that I found years ago and have tweaked various ways over the years---and instead of putting chocolate into the batter as I often do for my marble cheesecake, I boiled one big fat sweet potato, whole, then skinned it and mushed the middle up and mixed it in with the batter.
And OH MY GOD. Can we say "divine!?!?"
Then, just for a little added interest, I took some almonds and pecans and candied them in just a little maple syrup, and toasted them all nice and pretty and mashed some up in the gingersnap crust and put some of the prettier whole ones on top for decoration.
And it was good.
That particular night last October when I first made this dish, we had Sandusky's old roommate over for dinner who also shares my love of all things sweet potato.
He loved the cheesecake and took half of the leftovers home with him. Sandusky tried a little of it and declared that "he didn't hate it" which, for a non-sweet potato lover, I thought was still a positive remark.
So, this year, in preparation for Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house with our whole big family, I will be baking a sweet potato cheesecake. And if the rest of my family is lucky, they might actually get to have a piece of it, before I EAT IT ALL UP.
Yum!
And by THAT time of year, I mean it is time to make the SWEET POTATO CHEESECAKE.
I kind of have an obsession with sweet potatoes. I heart them. They make me so happy with their sweet tubular yummy goodness. I would never eat a real potato again if it wasn't for the fact that Sandusky refuses to eat sweet potatoes.
Because of my sincere devotion to the sweet potato, Thanksgiving is one of my most favorite food holidays of the year.
And every year, I would totally skip the pecan and pumpkin pies and just load up on those marshmallow sweet potatoes that are technically supposed to be a side dish for dinner but which, due to their extreme sweetness, I always used as my dessert.
But there is one problem with that oh so traditional sweet potato Thanksgiving dish. It is, well, how shall I put it---TOO FREAKING SWEET.
There, I said it. Too Sweet. And yes, there is such a thing.
One big helping of those marshmallow sweet potatoes and I spend the next week after Thanksgiving in a diabetic coma.
So, last year, I took my obsession with the sweet potato to a whole new level and decided to try and concoct a simple, easy to make dessert for Thanksgiving dinner involving a sweet potato but that was not so sweet as to prevent you from having MORE THAN ONE HELPING.
Because what is Thanksgiving really, but the Holiday of HOW MANY HELPINGS CAN I CONSUME WITHOUT BURSTING?
And that is one of the things I love about cheesecake--traditional, old fashioned cheesecake has just enough sugar in it to make it sweet, but it is otherwise one of the least sweet desserts out there.
So, I took my most favorite cheesecake recipe--the super, secret, cheesecake to die for recipe that I found years ago and have tweaked various ways over the years---and instead of putting chocolate into the batter as I often do for my marble cheesecake, I boiled one big fat sweet potato, whole, then skinned it and mushed the middle up and mixed it in with the batter.
And OH MY GOD. Can we say "divine!?!?"
Then, just for a little added interest, I took some almonds and pecans and candied them in just a little maple syrup, and toasted them all nice and pretty and mashed some up in the gingersnap crust and put some of the prettier whole ones on top for decoration.
And it was good.
That particular night last October when I first made this dish, we had Sandusky's old roommate over for dinner who also shares my love of all things sweet potato.
He loved the cheesecake and took half of the leftovers home with him. Sandusky tried a little of it and declared that "he didn't hate it" which, for a non-sweet potato lover, I thought was still a positive remark.
So, this year, in preparation for Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house with our whole big family, I will be baking a sweet potato cheesecake. And if the rest of my family is lucky, they might actually get to have a piece of it, before I EAT IT ALL UP.
Yum!
Friday, November 06, 2009
Fall Music
Sandusky just introduced me to some music today that I had not ever heard before and I had to share.
It is just that perfect kind of thoughtful melancholy music for this early Fall time of year.
This song in particular makes me think of driving through fallen orange leaves all over a country road in the late afternoon.
Every once in a great while I hear a piece of music that fills me with the desire to paint a beautiful canvass to try and capture the feeling that the music evokes in me.
Too bad I can't paint.
It is just that perfect kind of thoughtful melancholy music for this early Fall time of year.
This song in particular makes me think of driving through fallen orange leaves all over a country road in the late afternoon.
Every once in a great while I hear a piece of music that fills me with the desire to paint a beautiful canvass to try and capture the feeling that the music evokes in me.
Too bad I can't paint.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
A Fitting Gift
Since Sandusky and I announced that whole "we're getting married" thing about six weeks ago, my mother has had a lot of wedding suggestions.
And by "a lot" I mean she calls me five times a day. Every day. Not kidding.
But that is a whole other blog post.
One of the very first wedding suggestions she had for me was to "decline" wedding presents. Her thought was to include a simple little line in the invitations that said something along the lines of "your present is your presence."
Of course, my first reaction was: WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO TURN DOWN WEDDING PRESENTS? What kind of crazy talk is that!?!?!?!
I mean, seriously. That is like the one time in your life when its perfectly acceptable to put together a list of all the things you always wanted but could never justify buying for yourself and then hand that list out to everyone that you know and have them be HAPPY to buy you things you never really thought you would actually own!
And, clearly, my mother has never tried to brew ten gallons of beer on the kitchen stove top with a one gallon pot. Otherwise she would understand why GIANT STOCK POT is on the top of my wedding presents list.
Besides, I told her, people will buy us gifts for the wedding even if we tell them not to. Because that is what people do. And I would rather have a list of gifts that we want to actually own then to leave my 80 year old Great Aunt in Nebraska to just pick something out that she thinks I would like.
Because, and I am sure this is a surprise, but I do not have the same taste as an 80 year old woman from small town Nebraska. Just sayin'.
But then I started feeling bitchy. I mean, is that wrong of me to be so against the idea of forgoing the wedding presents? I mean, the wedding isn't about presents at all. Or at least not totally.
And then when I started looking around the house, the truth is that there are a hand full of items that we really, truly do need--like dishes. Our dishes are in poor shape, all cracked and broken, and there are only four plates, which, when the kids were here this summer, meant that we had to do dishes after EVERY SINGLE MEAL.
And that, my friends, is more of a pain in the butt than it sounds. And it sounds like a major pain in the butt.
Yet, even with the complete list of the things we really do need and will likely register for, there certainly wasn't a big list of presents that we even wanted. But I couldn't shake the thought that people would get us stuff anyway, whether we asked for it or not, and if that's true, then isn't it better to get something we wanted than something we didn't?
Then my mother had an alternative suggestion to her first thought of just forgoing the presents all together. She suggested that we ask people who want to get us something for our wedding to donate to a charity in our name. She suggested that we pick a cause that we truly believe in.
And that is when the light bulb appeared in the air, floating gently above my head.
Sandusky and I talked about it for a little while and we recently came to an agreement. We do plan on registering at a couple different stores for some of the variety of things that we really, truly do want and need.
But we will also provide a charitable alternative to the traditional wedding gift buying. And there was only one charitable cause that felt truly appropriate for the occasion.
The fact of the matter is that I've been feeling a little guilty. I've just been so happy and excited that I get to marry the man I love.
And I've been sharing that happiness and giddiness with OF, my Oldest Friend, who will also act as my Man of Honor along side BestFriend as my Matron of Honor.
But my giddiness and happiness in getting married has been tempered by the fact that one of my dearest friends who will be sharing the moment with me, standing up there beside me, cannot ever get legally married to his life's love. Just because he is gay.
And this isn't just about OF, either.
Sandusky's own ex-wife, the mother of his two wonderful children, has been in a committed same-sex relationship for more than twice as long as Sandusky and I have been together. The kids refer to their mom's girlfriend as their "other mother." They live with her full time and quite literally grew up with her as a daily figure in their lives.
And yet, I get to legally become their stepmom, but their "other mother" can't. Again, because they are gay.
And that is just total bullshit. Excuse my French.
Marriage is about more than procreation and about more than whether one part of the couple has X chromosomes and the other has Ys.
It has to do with making a public commitment that you, as a couple, are presenting a united front, that you are facing life together, hand in hand, in good times and in bad. Its about who gets to be by your bedside when you are sick and who gets to make legal decisions for you when you are unable to make those decisions for yourself. It is about the day in and day out aspects of life that make living life so much more happier for getting to share it with someone you love.
And we simply think its wrong to say that two people who are in love and are committed to each other should have the right to get married while others should not, based solely on whether the partner that you love happens to be of the same sex as you.
So, while gifts are certainly not in any way, shape, or form expected, if our guests choose to buy us a gift, they will have several options:
1) Pick something out on their own for us,
2) Purchase something off of one of our wedding registries, or
3) Make a charitable donation, in our names, to the Kansas Equality Coalition or to the Human Rights Campaign in support of the fight to legalize gay marriage.
And when it comes right down to it, I don't think I could think of a better, more appropriate wedding gift, than to support the right of everyone to share in our wedded bliss by fighting for the right of those who are near and dear to us to have a little wedded bliss of their own.
And by "a lot" I mean she calls me five times a day. Every day. Not kidding.
But that is a whole other blog post.
One of the very first wedding suggestions she had for me was to "decline" wedding presents. Her thought was to include a simple little line in the invitations that said something along the lines of "your present is your presence."
Of course, my first reaction was: WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO TURN DOWN WEDDING PRESENTS? What kind of crazy talk is that!?!?!?!
I mean, seriously. That is like the one time in your life when its perfectly acceptable to put together a list of all the things you always wanted but could never justify buying for yourself and then hand that list out to everyone that you know and have them be HAPPY to buy you things you never really thought you would actually own!
And, clearly, my mother has never tried to brew ten gallons of beer on the kitchen stove top with a one gallon pot. Otherwise she would understand why GIANT STOCK POT is on the top of my wedding presents list.
Besides, I told her, people will buy us gifts for the wedding even if we tell them not to. Because that is what people do. And I would rather have a list of gifts that we want to actually own then to leave my 80 year old Great Aunt in Nebraska to just pick something out that she thinks I would like.
Because, and I am sure this is a surprise, but I do not have the same taste as an 80 year old woman from small town Nebraska. Just sayin'.
But then I started feeling bitchy. I mean, is that wrong of me to be so against the idea of forgoing the wedding presents? I mean, the wedding isn't about presents at all. Or at least not totally.
And then when I started looking around the house, the truth is that there are a hand full of items that we really, truly do need--like dishes. Our dishes are in poor shape, all cracked and broken, and there are only four plates, which, when the kids were here this summer, meant that we had to do dishes after EVERY SINGLE MEAL.
And that, my friends, is more of a pain in the butt than it sounds. And it sounds like a major pain in the butt.
Yet, even with the complete list of the things we really do need and will likely register for, there certainly wasn't a big list of presents that we even wanted. But I couldn't shake the thought that people would get us stuff anyway, whether we asked for it or not, and if that's true, then isn't it better to get something we wanted than something we didn't?
Then my mother had an alternative suggestion to her first thought of just forgoing the presents all together. She suggested that we ask people who want to get us something for our wedding to donate to a charity in our name. She suggested that we pick a cause that we truly believe in.
And that is when the light bulb appeared in the air, floating gently above my head.
Sandusky and I talked about it for a little while and we recently came to an agreement. We do plan on registering at a couple different stores for some of the variety of things that we really, truly do want and need.
But we will also provide a charitable alternative to the traditional wedding gift buying. And there was only one charitable cause that felt truly appropriate for the occasion.
The fact of the matter is that I've been feeling a little guilty. I've just been so happy and excited that I get to marry the man I love.
And I've been sharing that happiness and giddiness with OF, my Oldest Friend, who will also act as my Man of Honor along side BestFriend as my Matron of Honor.
But my giddiness and happiness in getting married has been tempered by the fact that one of my dearest friends who will be sharing the moment with me, standing up there beside me, cannot ever get legally married to his life's love. Just because he is gay.
And this isn't just about OF, either.
Sandusky's own ex-wife, the mother of his two wonderful children, has been in a committed same-sex relationship for more than twice as long as Sandusky and I have been together. The kids refer to their mom's girlfriend as their "other mother." They live with her full time and quite literally grew up with her as a daily figure in their lives.
And yet, I get to legally become their stepmom, but their "other mother" can't. Again, because they are gay.
And that is just total bullshit. Excuse my French.
Marriage is about more than procreation and about more than whether one part of the couple has X chromosomes and the other has Ys.
It has to do with making a public commitment that you, as a couple, are presenting a united front, that you are facing life together, hand in hand, in good times and in bad. Its about who gets to be by your bedside when you are sick and who gets to make legal decisions for you when you are unable to make those decisions for yourself. It is about the day in and day out aspects of life that make living life so much more happier for getting to share it with someone you love.
And we simply think its wrong to say that two people who are in love and are committed to each other should have the right to get married while others should not, based solely on whether the partner that you love happens to be of the same sex as you.
So, while gifts are certainly not in any way, shape, or form expected, if our guests choose to buy us a gift, they will have several options:
1) Pick something out on their own for us,
2) Purchase something off of one of our wedding registries, or
3) Make a charitable donation, in our names, to the Kansas Equality Coalition or to the Human Rights Campaign in support of the fight to legalize gay marriage.
And when it comes right down to it, I don't think I could think of a better, more appropriate wedding gift, than to support the right of everyone to share in our wedded bliss by fighting for the right of those who are near and dear to us to have a little wedded bliss of their own.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
So Tired
I heart good friends, good fun, and good wine. And now its time for sleep!
(And yes, this is the LAMEST NaBloPoMo post ever. But it still counts. So there. )
(And yes, this is the LAMEST NaBloPoMo post ever. But it still counts. So there. )
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