Friday, January 11, 2008

You Lookin' At Me?

For those of you who do want to read something insightful and of meaning....go away. Just kidding. Here's something that I thought of this morning, that was kind of interesting.

So, on my Google home page, every morning, I have a different bible verse. Usually these just annoy me, because literally, they just randomly select a single verse, whether or not it's in need of context or not. So, sometimes it's like " Now I will break their yoke from your neck, and tear your shackles away." (Nahum 1:13), and sometimes it's like "But when the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles was near," (John 7:2), and sometimes it's like "O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" (Psalm 8:9).

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes it makes perfect sense in the single context of a verse, and sometimes you're left wondering "huh?". Then what??

But today, as I briefly scanned past the CNN.com widget and the Sesame Street Terror Level Indicator (we're still at Bert & Ernie) to see what the verse was, it said this "And this will we do, if God permit." (Hebrews 6:3). I thought to myself, oh great, another out of context verse. What will we do if God permits??

Then it hit me, even in this snippet of a thought, this fragment of a sentence, there is great meaning as to the philosophy of our faith. Everything we do, we do only if God permits. Yes, I'm a Calvinist. I tossed around naming one of my cats Calvin & the other Luther, and then I came to my senses, and named them after famous English poets instead (some senses!)

The thing is, even in something as seemingly random as a verse out of context, God will speak to our hearts, the truth of His nature, and our faith. The word is alive, and powerful, moving and fluid, mercurial even. The very nature of God's word, whether spoken or in writing, is mysterious and awe-inspiring. These are the words of a majestic and holy God that we read, whether on igoogle.com or in church, or at home. Let us never forget how powerful and moving that can be.

So, today, as I look at my life, and at my choices, specifically whether to trust Him this weekend (for gas money, of all things) or to pursue my own, faulty methods and ideas, I realize that even in the mistakes, He is permitting me to make my own choices. All things that I do, are because God permits. Crazy! In light of that graceful truth, how can I help but honor Him through trusting, scary though it may be. Yeah, trust, that's a whole different blog post, for another time.

Friday Update (Aka Things I Did This Week)

Here's the week's update:

Got my hair cut - finally did the short Katie Holmes haircut that I've been admiring for months. LOVE IT!

Spent time with Ana & Josiah, brifely, all too briefly. Was invited to Ikea by my darling, Josiah. I love that kid!

Trained my cats to not be mostly psycho at night (Henry still has a long way to go, Nigel is an angel, however).

Realized there will be no keeping my clothes cat-hair free.

Made cookies for the UCE, and then decided not to send them, because I think he's just not that into me.

Watched the Disney/Pixar Short Films dvd.

Re-watched Ratatouille.

Began my volunteer training at the Christian Recovery Center, so I can finally begin to work with women victims of sexual abuse. I couldn't be more thankful!!

Dislocated a rib. Felt it pop back in.

Committed myself to doing 175 formal invitations for our companies Annual Holiday Gala. Realized I'm out of my mind.

Decided I'm going to uninvite the UCE to the Gala, because, as mentioned before, I think he's not that into me anymore. I'm not quite sure yet, though. I'm working on it.

Yeah, that's about it for me right now. It's been a quiet week, despite incessant meowing on the part of my two new cats, Nigel & Henry. God has been teaching me some interesting lessons about sacrifice this week. Or at least the kind of sacrifice that comes in relationships with other people. Through my cats of all things. Basically He reminded me how much I fear intimacy and committment. Thanks God.

I guess too, if I'm going to put it all out there, I'm really kind of irritated by the way things worked out with the UCE, and how I am kind of kicking myself for giving up my ideals, my standards, etc. I am also irritated by a friend, who though I know won't lord it over me, was right about him. And that pisses me off. I'm tired of her being always right! I just, once, want to prove her wrong.

There's a lot going on in this big noggin' of mine today. This week. Some of I started to share on here, and then discarded. Some of it I know I shouldn't share. I am feeling so out of sorts, with everything, lately. I don't know why. Could be the coffee. I'm feeling pressured, too, to have my blog be about something. Every post being meaningful or about something, when really I'm quite comfortable having the Seinfeld of blogs. It's about nothing really.

So, yeah, there you go. For now, that's all folks. By the way, check it out, I'm trying to give Daniel Day-Lewis a run for his money, in his new film "There Will Be Blood". Which of us do y'all think is more imposing??


Monday, January 07, 2008

Monday Update

So, recently a few friends informd me that they actually read my My Space blog. Who knew? I'm still in denial that anyone reads this thing. Anyway, I have started posting there recently. This is what I wrote there today. It's nothing new.....just saves me from having to write things twice. I actually would prefer people read this blog, since I'm just a wee bit proud of all the work I've done on it. I'd like to add a widget that shows what's on my Netflix queue, however it seems Netflix doesn't have a widget like that, only Blockbuster does. And I'm decidedly anti-Blockbuster. I hate those little cranks.

In any case, today is a whole new day, and don't I love it? I feel so great today, and I think I know why. I look really cute today. The kind of cute I wish I could pull off everyday. I am really proud of the way my outfit pulled together this morning**, and I'm having a good hair day, and my eyelashes are unusually long, which is, well, unusual. Looking good for once, has somehow boosted my self-esteem, and that combined with some funky, sing-along music on the ride into work has me acting like Katrina & The Waves. I even got complimented this morning, as one of the guys here at work commented on general Flintstones vibe of my necklace, and then said it was appropriate for a Betty like me. Wow, I'm a Betty? As if! (Ok, now I'm just channeling Clueless circa 1994, since isn't that like, the last time anyone actually used that phrase?)

Another reason I could be walking on sunshine (Get it? Eh? Eh?) is that someone I have a slight, little office crush on, is actually in the office today. It's one of our outside sales reps, and I have to admit, he's like one of the nicest guys to talk to. I've only met him in person once, but every time he calls in, I'm happy to do whatever he asks, because he's just polite, and nice, and well, a real joy to help. I mean, for all I know he's married, or gay, and he lives halfway across the country, and isn't quite my type anyway. But today I get to see him again in person, and I'm just pleased as punch. I even had a dream about him once, that he was training me in as an outside sales rep, and we were traveling all around Texas in a beat up old Ford pickup, hitting every BBQ joint in the steak, sampling pulled pork wherever we went. Hilarious, and I have no clue as to what it means, but just the fact that he was in it makes me smile.

What else makes me smile? Well, for the first time in months I can say I don't live alone anymore. I have cats. Yes, short of the wacky outfits, and a general disdain for anyone under 18, I am now a crazy cat lady. Emphasis on crazy. I can't believe I did it, but after weeks of hemming & hawing, and vacillating on whether or not this was the right decision for me, I just bit the bullet, and did it. It did happen rather spontaneously (me, spontaneous?? No!), as a friend Facebooked me the other day, mentioning that she had two cats she had to find a home for, or they were going to the shelter that night, and I responded with "I'll take them!". So, now, impetuous me is the mom to two beautiful adult, male cats – Henry & Nigel.

Henry is a little fatty pooch of an orange cat, and just a freaking freak of nature. He is older, about 7 years old, and very affectionate. First thing he did Sunday morning was come crawl up on my bed, and climb up on my chest, and lay directly on my face, which would've been kind of funny, except I like to breathe. By the time I was able to get his poochy, purring self off me, it looked like someone had pooped in my eye (go see Knocked Up). Teary, red & swollen, my poor right eye made me look like another trademark of some crazy cat ladies – stoned. Without the much needed mellowing effect. He's a soft orangish-yellow color with white markings around his neck and little white boots. Generally he reminded me of Henry the 8th, the cranky, old, impotent, womanizing king. I'm sure that if I dressed him up like he was going to the Renaissance Festival, that's what anyone who saw him would say too. So, he got to keep the name he had, Henry, though it makes me sad, because it was one of the names I had preemptively chosen for my future, unborn male child, but, whatever.

Nigel, on the other hand, is the very male name I gave to my as of yet sex-undetermined other cat, previously called Dasher. Dasher, seems to me, a great name for a reindeer, but maybe not the best name for a cat who sit around all day. So, Nigel, meaning "the black one" fits quite appropriately to him/her/whatever. You see, Nigel is quite the antithesis to Henry's down home country ways. He's just an inky black pool of velvety softness, with a full, round face, and piercing yellow-green cat eyes. He is the perfect Halloween black cat, and I just love everything about his regal, quiet nature. As he perches majestically on top of my ottoman, one paw tucked casually underneath him, surveying the living room land, I can't help but think he is truly a descendant of the great, beautiful, big cats. With the soft furriness of a snow leopard, but the coloring of a graceful jaguar, he is just so fun to watch and I want to scoop him up in my arms and snuggle him. He's not terribly affectionate though, but I did get a spark of hope yesterday as he came and climbed in bed with me to take a nap. His beautiful black fur contrasted so beautifully with my white duvet, and I couldn't help but take small pleasure in how pretty a cat he is. Yep, me and my pretty cat, catnapping on a Sunday afternoon. How poignant.

In any case, the decision to adopt these two charmers came rather spontaneously, as I chose to rescue them from impending doom ina shelter. So, though it was in style with my usual impulsive self, I cannot regret it. I am now the proud owner of two great cats. Wow.

Well, all is well that ends well. And as long as I don't get any salad dressing on my shirt today, that should end well. As long as I come home and the cats haven't pooped in my shoes, that should end well too (although they're going to come to their end at the bottom of a well if I find they have). And life goes on. The blog goes on. That's it for me today.


**Cute outfit description: Black wide leg pants with contrasting white stitching, a reddish-orange square neck tissue tee from J.Crew, with a white tank layered underneath, a faded khaki blazer, with interesting pocket detail and nickel hardware buttons (from Banana Republic like three years ago…I need to wear this more often!), black patent leather loafers & a chunky yellow beaded necklace that accents the orange top brilliantly. All together, a really smart outfit that is at once polished & pretty as well as stylish, like I just stepped out of Lucky Magazine.

Currently listening to : Girls and Boys By Ingrid Michaelson

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Am I Too Late To Jump This Bandwagon?

Oh, hell. I’ve been wrestling with this for weeks. Do I jump on the bandwagon? Or in a fit of protest over my individuality, do I abstain from boring my readers (all two of them) with my thoughts on the years “Best Of" whatever?



I know, full well, that I cannot compete with what I consider the master of all "Top Music" lists, so in the spirit of individuality, and well, mainly because I’m flat out of time and have to get some work done, the following are my Top Six Movies of 2007, Along With 4 Honorable Mentions And A Few Others I Could’ve Lived Without. The official term, I believe.

1. Ratatouille – Maybe I’m prejudicial. But it’s my damn blog, and I’ll rant if I want to. And in my opinion, Ratatouille was one of the sweetest, funniest, coolest films of the year, if not “the” one. The fact that it was all about the culinary arts had nothing to do with it, really, I swear.



This was however, for Pixar, on a plane above even my other favorite, Finding Nemo, which till now, really I had never thought they’d top. The plucky tale of a food-obsessed rat with the taste of Julia Child herself was refreshing and surprising. Chock full of both verbal and visual wit, genius comedic timing and enough j’ne sai quos to satisfy even the snootiest Francophile, Ratatouille was as thoroughly pleasing as a slab of St. Andre with apricot preserves, a baguette & a glass of Bordeaux on an autumn picnic. Not to mention that it contained what was probably the best performance of Peter O’Toole’s career (as Anton Ego, the critic from The Grim Eater).


Ratatouille faithfully carried out its thematic elements with a sensitivity and depth that belied its intent as a children’s movie. Touching on the pursuit of excellence over mediocrity and the unavoidability of family differences, it spoke to its audience with such personal insight, that anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider looking in could not help but be touched and moved to their very soul. I almost felt like I was Remy, the little blue rat with the oddly oversized nose and the annoyingly visceral family. Yet, it never gets so sappy that it forgets to infuse its audience with the joy of artistic creation and intuitive partnership that is the basis for the plotline between Remy & Linguine, his human counterpart.


Ratatouille is a kid’s movie that I would be happy to watch over & over again wit the niece & nephew were it not for the fact that at the end I’m always left with a nostalgic wistfulness for a trip to Paris and a hankering for some good Coq Au Vin. Like a perfect broth or stock, it is clearly a winner.


2. No Country For Old Men – the fact that this was a Cormac McCarthy novel scared me a bit at first, as I’m not exactly a fan. Only the uber-talented, creative genius’s, the Coen Bros could’ve done it justice however. And in a tale where justice is relative, it was done well my friend.



The screen seems to be painted with a stark gravity, a merciless sort of poverty really, in this tale of a movie. My only complaint might have been the vaporous ending, but really, McCarthy’s more to blame there, as Joel & Ethan Coen strayed not from his book or his dialogue, lending it breath and vision.



Do I even need to comment on the chilly sort of fear that Javier Bardem imparts, in his bowl haircut, as the most relentless villain of the year? I've not been a big fan of his before, but after this role, even if he played Santa Claus dressed up as Jesus, he could not redeem himself & win my warm affection. Respect, certainly, affection, uh-uh.




3. Gone Baby Gone – To say that this movie was personal to me would be like saying that Ben Affleck loves Boston. And after seeing this movie, any spectator knows one thing for sure. Ben Affleck loves Boston. Hell, Ben Affleck is Boston (though probably one of their more good-looking representatives).



Gone Baby Gone is an adaptation of Dennis Lehane’s breakthrough novel, the first to introduce sleepy PI, Patrick Kenzie, and his razor-tongued assistant/sometimes girlfriend, Angie Gennaro. Years ago, this series was one of my obsessive favorites. Lehane painted the characters in this novel with such rich depth and color, that they seemed to jump off the page and right into my room. I could almost smell the Killians & cigarette smoke.



Therefore, the nervous pessimism that predisposed me to a negative opinion on Affleck’s direction, even before seeing the movie, was heavy (though not as heavy as the stories scenarios and themes). I mean, come on, I’m supposed to believe Daredevil was going to do this justice?



Yet, as the film starts, and the Boston landscape is portrayed in gritty realism, the camera scanning grafitti littered walls with tubby, pasty Bostonians lazily passing time in front of them, it becomes apparent that only someone with a true love for their native land could’ve nailed the accents, the scenery, the general slow summer vibe, the way Affleck did. And I’m still talking Ben here. We won’t even go near how truly affecting Casey Affleck’s performance was. The moral and ethical dilemma’s that his character wrestled with were played out with such moving subtlety and whispery perfection that you almost wanted to crawl through the screen and wrap your arms around him. If this brotherly team doesn’t see Oscar this year, I will be wicked pissed!

4. Stardust - The first thing I could think of when this movie ended was “It’s a Princess Bride for the next generation”. Like it’s legendary predecessor, it had all the necessary elements – a star studded cast, a beautiful heroine, a sometimes gawky, but ultimately handsomely triumphant hero and enough wit and banter to hold even the most cynical viewer transfixed. There is action, swashbuckling swordplay, CGI witchcraft, comedic genius (as Robert DeNiro surprises and delights as the unconventional pirate Shakespeare), sweet romance and adoration (which was my favorite part really) and much, much more. Yep, loaded with colorful, delightful characters, Stardust is a cameo dream and a visual feast.


The story was original enough for a fairy tale, the result of a local Minnesota writer’s imagination. Stardust originally was conceived as Neil Gaiman’s four-book 1997 DC Comics mini-series, which later became a novel, caught attention and was later adapted for the movie, quite well I might add.


As one of the main characters, the usually grating Claire Danes, shines as the impatient, slightly arrogant fallen star, Yvain. The true star, however, was Michelle Pfeiffer, as the embodiment of every wicked, evil, vain stepmother/witch. Next to DeNiro (who you must see to believe) she truly steals the show. She poured into every conniving turn and phrase the passion of a star who relished the opportunity to turn her beauty on its head.


Like an old time variety show, Stardust is an all around great, versatile choice for family, date night or whatever the occasion may be. I really hope that, like Princess Bride, this film ripens richly with age.

5. Once – in a summer awash with Shreks, Spideys, Pirates, Transformers and myriad of other big daddy films ready to squelch anyone in their path, it’s a miracle Once even got noticed, much less made it through.



Its strength was not in its budget, its special effects, its award-winning cast or its massive publicity sprawl – Once found all its strength, and its soul in its music. A unique, low-fi musical that is both a bit scruff around the edges and hauntingly beautiful, Once was touching, soulful and moving. It drew me in and transported me, through its music, to a place where I want to fall in love - Dublin.


I heard one reviewer call Once “not a musical, but a film about music. Once contains some of the best songs you will hear in a film, ever”. I agree. But though it’s the music that makes Once shine with heart and depth, its sweet love story will carry you along as well.

6. Waitress - I wasn’t expecting much from this film. Both low budget, and sporting Keri Russell as the main star, it just didn’t look that promising. The heartbreaking story of the death of its director, Adrienne Shelly, however, was what finally drew me into renting it one night. And I’m glad I did. Sometimes tender, sometimes sobering, funny, witty and touching, Waitress was a little Easter Egg of a surprise.


Ok, like Ratatouille, the fact that this film deals with the culinary world had something to do with its appeal. But that’s not to say I’m an easy sell – after all, I never even wasted my $8 on that Catherine Zeta-Jones/Aaron Eckhart flop earlier in the year, and that was about two chefs.


The hilarious, sometimes ingenious pie names that were inflicted on Jenna’s towering creations were so entertaining and amusing. Take “Pregnant-Miserable-Self-Pitying-Loser Pie” for instance, which boasts dark chocolate and raspberry puree in a towering confection of a pie shell. Or aphrodisiacal “Marshmallow Mermaid Pie”, with its Miami-esque colored marshmallow topping beckoning. Yep, the pie sequences, and the pie song especially, were creative and whimsical in this little gem of a film.

What moved me more, though, was the stark honesty written all over Jenna’s face as she faced some pretty scary, hopeless situations – an unwanted pregnancy in the midst of a very abusive relationship, with her jerk of a husband, Earl (played to a tee by award-worthy Jeremy Sisto). It was the surprising realism of this aspect of the storyline that kept me watching, and eventually broke my heart. Sure, there were parts that were typically predictable. Yet, no one but director Adrienne Shelly could’ve nailed the fear, apprehension and anger that Keri Russell’s character expressed at the coming of a baby she didn’t want, and felt no affection or maternal instinct for. How refreshing to hear her expressing her own hesitation to be a mother, to the baby – so very un-Hollywood! Instead of nailing you with the typical “romantic comedy happy ending” that could’ve brought this film down to the level of say “Sweet Home Alabama”, this film took the risk to show something true, which is always more moving, albeit bittersweet.


I’d call Waitress a chick flick, because nothing blows up in it – but I would also wholeheartedly recommend this film to anyone looking for a sweet human interest movie.


*On a side note, probably the tearjerker moment of the movie, for me, was the closing scene of Keri Russell triumphantly walking away holding, on her hip, her movie daughter, played in real life by Adrienne Shelly’s 3 year old pixie of a daughter. Knowing now about the brutal murder of this innocent independent actress/director, that scene didn’t just bring me to tears, but left me weeping.*


Ok, now it's time for the Honorable Mentions:

7. Atonement - the only thing in this movie prettier than Kiera Knightly, was the movie itself. Even the war scenes were shot so cunningly beautiful that it was hard to ascertain the realistic tragedy of battle, because I was wondering "How'd they do that??" A tragic love story, spanning the decades, with beauty everywhere - in the swirl of cigarette smoke against dinner jackets, and silk dresses, and beautiful coiffed hair and sweeping English landscapes, and refined British accents. Ooooh, it's just so purdy and so damn English!


8. Knocked Up - I love Judd Apatow. I love Seth Rogen (no, really, I really do, that hair, he's big & awkward, my kind of guy!), and even Katherine Heigl was neurotically adorable (till she went and shot her mouth off to Vanity Fair about the stereotypicalness of the roles in this movie - honey, that's what made it enjoyable!). Knocked Up managed to take those same stereotypes and portray them with such biting comedy that I was laughing on the floor. If you didn't love Paul Rudd before, then the scene where he waxes poetic about his imaginary DeLorean over dinner will draw you into a sweet little boy-crush. It probably was my favorite scene in the whole movie, though there were so many great ones, it's hard to pick. Dirty, foulmouthed, with full vaginal birthing shots, Knocked Up sure isn't for everyone, but I happened to love it. Take that Katherine Heigl!!



9. Hot Fuzz - I’m so glad this wasn't Shawn Of The Dead II. Though the trailers, at the time it came out, gave no indication to the towering heights of funny that this film soars over. Taking one of the most ridiculously outlandish genres of film - the action/adventure cop buddy movie - and turning it on its silly little British head, this movie cracked me up in so many ways. It literally made fun of itself at times. With fast sweeping little sequences of amazing sound editing, and one of the best impalement scenes ever (seriously, it was just as good as Brad Pitt getting hit by a car in Meet Joe Black. I rewound it like four times!), Hot Fuzz is definitely worth the rent.




10. 300 - Last but not least, the late winters highly anticipated, grandiose, CGI bloodbath rendition of the battle of Thermopylae. Packed with so many special effects, so much visual candy, I couldn't keep my eyes focused, that was till Gerard Butlers’ thighs entered the scene, and then things became a lot more tranquil in my little world. Fantastical, voluptuous, bloody, ferocious, wow, this movie did not let up for one minute, and retold one of history's most senseless battles in a way that entertained the 13 year old boy in all of us.









And before I go....here are just a few I could've lived without:


The Transformers Movie – Overblown, overly lengthy, overly caffeinated, way too much testosterone (channeling Independence Day), and just, too, too, too much. Shia LeBeouf, however, was charming as always.


30 Days Of Night – Such a classic graphic novel. The very first graphic novel I ever read (yeah, I got into comics kinda late). Just would’ve been better left untouched and pristine as the Alaskan landscape where it was set. The screaming, Eastern European traveling cirque vampires got on my last nerve after a while and I just wanted to plug my ears & bitch slap them.


The Heartbreak Kid – after a healthy dose of Judd Apatow humor this year (with Superbad and Knocked Up) the Farrelly brothers seem to just be overreaching. They were, in my opinion, really just trying too hard to push the envelope, instead of allowing the raunchy comic genius to flow as naturally as it did in Something About Mary. I could’ve done without the Kitty Ring & the Donkey Show, really I could’ve.


Zodiac – Actually, I was really looking forward to this true-crime thriller, for the fact that it’s in my favorite genre, and included three of my favorite hot guy actors, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr. & Jake Gyllenhaal (wow, that’s quite the tall, dark, handsome triple stack!! Highly inappropriate club sandwich references are now running through my head!). The movie, based on real events, however was not able to gracefully meld the crimes and subsequent investigations, into one cohesive story well enough to keep the pace moving or capture my attention for the entire duration of the film. The lengthy pauses between important plot twists, and the lack of any resolution to the events were awkward enough to sully the movie as a whole.


Pirates Of The Caribbean; At Worlds End - Yeah, been there, done that, and the first one still rocked the best. The extended dream like sequence, amongst miles of white sand, and forty CGI Johnny Depps, was surreal, and not in a good Dali clocks kind of way. Probably should’ve just fast forwarded to the very end when Orlando Bloom does the whole Davey Jones thing, and hooks up with Kiera Knightly on the beach. Oh, did I just ruin it? Oh well. ;-)


Ghost Rider – OMG. I’m so embarrassed to say I even watched this. But, I went to high school with Eva Mendes, and though she was a few years ahead of me, I still feel compelled to follow her career with pride. Till now. Oh, and by the way, does Nic Cage just have one method of acting that he does now, despite the script/character? Yet another reason to hate Scientology.


Ok, so just in case you think I have more to say.....let me add, in the great tradition of movies past, that this is........


THE END.

Ya Had To Be There

For those of you who got a kick out of my "I Love Lucy" post a while back.... here's something more to brighten your day, and make you feel more graceful.

I woke up late this morning, so I didn't have time to hit Starbucks for my usual breakfast. I knew this leaving the house, so I grabbed a Mint Mocha Frappucino (disappearing from stores sometime soon) from the fridge, to drink instead. Once I got to work and settled in at the reception desk (I cover the receptionist on her morning break), I began to unwrap the plastic protective layer from the lid of my Frap. That came off pretty easy, so hastily, and without much thought, I shook the Frappupcino bottle to mix it, before taking a sip. I never got that sip.

The minute I began to shake the bottle, the lid flew off, across the desk, and mint mocha frappucino landed everywhere. I mean everywhere. It was all over me, the desk, the floor, my dress, the computer, the papers on the table, down my shirt, in my hair, and generally covering everything like a tiny little Starbucks rainshower. Thank you Seattle, try the veal!

My first reaction was something between a moan and a whine. A long, drawn out, high pitched mwhoane. There I sat, looking at the little puddles and ponds of delicious frappucino, covering everything in a three foot radius, feeling it's wet stickiness drip down into my bra, cold & minty (sorry, TMI!).

As this was all happening, the new IT Director, the new guy, happened to be walking by. As he disappeared quickly up the stairs behind me, as if this kind of klutziness were highly contagious and he needed to scurry, I could hear him say "wow".

Wow. I guess that's a good reaction to something this silly. Wow.

Fifteen minutes later, slightly cleaned up, skirt wet from washing the frap out of it, still uncaffienated, I'm up at my desk, wondering how, and why, these things happen to me. Is it strictly for the entertainment of others? Is God trying to teach me a lesson? Or am I really, just that klutzy??

Maybe once I get some coffee in me, I'll figure out the answer.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Snow, Back Home & Good To Go

I'm sitting at the most charming little Dunn Bros ever. The one up on 3rd & Washington, the two story one with all the brick. The snow is falling outside, the classical strains of violin play in the background, there are people in hats, in scarves, in snow boots, myself included. I'm just glad to be home. I'm glad it's snowing, I'm glad it's Christmas, and I'm glad I'm in a place I love again. Minneapolis.

I can't imagine my life, as the person I am now, back in Los Angeles, not even for one more day. I would love to say that the people I love are all here. But most of them have moved away. And even though there are still plenty of people I love in this town, I have never felt more alone. Maybe it's the holidays. Maybe it's the resonance of family drama still echoing in my soul, trying to convince me I'm not who I really am. Maybe it's the fact that I really am all alone. My MN family is all down in Iowa, seeing their family, forgetting to ask me to come see Grandpa's farm. Close friends have either all moved away or are traveling, and no one I know is around anymore. The friends I have who are here still forget about the single girl when the obligations of family/married life at the holidays come calling. (In all honesty, I can think of one friend, who is probably alone these few days, but at least he has Netflix & a few kids to keep him company.)

In even better news, the guy I'm crazy about (the UCE) is close but so far away. He's here in the cities, doing family stuff, but so busy with all that, that I do believe he has forgotten me, or maybe he's just ignoring me after the massive ass chewing I gave him recently when I found out he lied to me about something. I deserve his silence, I think. But if he keeps it up, he won't get his Christmas gift, and really, it's not every year some girl who thinks you're wonderful bakes you a giant cookie inside an ashtray shaped like a pistol (never used of course!)

I guess, today it's just me and the snow, and you know what? That's ok. I kind of like the snow. It tickles my face and is beautiful and white and when you're in it, it's completely silent. Yeah, I think I kind of like the snow, it has everything a man should be.

This may all sound like one huge complaint, but I swear, it's not. I'm past complaining about being alone. There are times, like today, when I can do whatever I want, and live life according my own schedule, that I rather like it. In all actuality, what sounds like a big complaint, is actually something of a Godsend right now. And what better season to be grateful for all things?

You want a complaint out of me? How about this? I got rear-ended yesterday, at the lightrail tracks on 42nd & Hiawatha, and was pushed onto the tracks. Talk about a scary experience. I'm feeling ok today, but I was exhausted, both mentally and physically last night. I was coming back from the park & ride, where I had left my car and decided to detour onto Hiawatha, in order to return some Redbox movies. And asI approached the light at H55 & 42nd, I noticed that the little white light that signals an approaching train was flashing, and I could hear the train coming closer in the distance. What I didn't notice, however, was the fact that the light itself was still green, and so I stopped, right there, at the green light. Soon, I saw another car approaching behind me, and as I watched in the rearview mirror, I saw that it was not stopping. I must have been in a fog, because I had no reactionary skills at that moment. Suddenly, Boom, the car slammed/plowed right into the back of me, pushing me out onto the tracks, where my little car stalled. In a panic, I looked up and saw that the signal was green, so I drove to the opposite corner of the intersection, where the car followed me. My already cracked bumper is now non-existant. I took his information, but really, am I going to call this guy's insurance over my little bumper? More than anything, I was scared out of my wits!! Welcome home Trinette.

Am I some sort of freaking drama magnet? Because at the moment, I felt like one!!! I know some people seem to think so, but honestly, I don't ask for this kind of stuff to happen. It just does!

Well, hopefully, today will be a thoroughly drama free day, as I do some housecleaning, wrap presents, watch a movie or two, and hit the hay early, in preparation for what a lovely Christmas Eve tomorrow will be. I can only hope it's still snowing. Because as I type this, my fingers moving, as my eyes focus on the falling white flakes outside, nothing would make me happier than my hometown being covered in snow, and experiencing a true White Christmas.

Merry Christmas everyone! In the words of one of my favorite old-timey Christmas songs "Love & Joy come to you, and a Merry Christmas too, and God bless you & send you a Happy New Year. May God send you a Happy New Year!"

Friday, December 07, 2007

A New Poll!

So, I guess this means I'm getting a cat. I don't really like cats much. But I like mice even less. Here are my thoughts on the cat thing:

Things I'm not looking forward to:
Cat hair on my clothes & furniture
Allergies
Being categorized as a cat lover, a huge misconception
Cleaning the kitty litter box

Things that might be good about this cat:
It will keep the mice away, hopefully
It might keep the squirrels/rats/racoons/neighbors away
If I happen to need some affection, it might crawl up on my lap and let me love it.

Notice all the good things about the cat are "maybe"s. Like maybe it will do this, maybe it will do that. That's the crap thing about cats, in the end, they do what they want. And often times that's exactly what you don't want them to do. Cats are much like teenagers or rich women that way.


In any case, I posted a new poll, called "What Should I Name The Stinking Cat?" A friend recently entertained getting a cat, for his daughters, and was going to name it after someone who hates cats vehemently. So, unfortunately that name is out, though it wouldn't be one I'd choose anyways. All my names are kind of fun, and have meaning. I've listed said meanings below, so make sure y'all vote now!


Watson - A faithful companion. To Sherlock Holmes. This name reeks of irony, because I don't hold out much hope that my cat will either be faithful, or a companion. Cats - they're tricksy that way.

Grendel - A male ogre, from the old English poem about Beowulf (which happens to be a movie out right now, no connection I swear!). The ogre was slain. Nice. Maybe my cat will do some slaying instead. Also, Grendel was the puppy from the 80's show, "Thirtysomething", which is now my current age. OMG, I'm "thirtysomething". Oooh, I remember I used to watch that show and think how old they all were. That was back in high school of course, but still. Anways, I digress.

Burt - Since my cat is black, who better to name it for but my favorite Chimney Sweep (from Mary Poppins!)

Nigel - "Were only making plans for Nigel. We only want whats best for him". Remember that song? If I'm going to have a cat, I can pretend he's Brittish, and dignified, and imagine that he's going to talk to me in a Brittish accent. I can! And anyways, Nigel literally means "Black Haired One", and wasn't one of the members of Duran Duran named Nigel??

Brutus - Because this cat is bound to betray me, and my original intent in getting it. He's a cat, it's as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. So, shouldn't I name him after one of history's most famous betrayers? Judas just didn't have the same ring to it.

Samson - Yep, I want this cat to be strong, fierce, a killer of Philistines, I mean mice. A strongman who received his strength from, yes appropriate to a cat, his hair. If it's going to be on everything I own, why not ascribe it some strength?

So, those are my name choices. Check out the picture of the new cat, and let me know what y'all think. I really do listen to the poll results - my new car is now named Sean Preston, the clear leader in my last poll, called "Name My Car". The name has turned out to be so fitting too, I mean if something is going to be slightly beat up and chock full of junk food, it might as well be named Sean Preston right??

A New Pest Problem!

So, can anyone guess what’s worse than the kid who sings the song about wanting a Hippo for Christmas? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Mice. Mice are worse than that kid. Because that kid is slightly intangible. I’ve never met him. I never want to. I will never have to. But mice, mice I met last night. During dinner. And White Christmas. On my living room floor.

Yeah, after work, to avoid traffic, I headed to the mall to get a little Christmas shopping done. After not finding what I needed, I grabbed some cheap Chinese food and headed home.

Tired and weary, I threw on my VS flannell pj’s, the red ones with the hearts and flowers all over them, and grabbed some Sricha sauce to douse my chicken & rice in, and cozily sank into my sofa. I had already popped in a movie (White Christmas), and so, as my day wound down, I began to eat my dinner, and sing along to the movie (not at the same time obviously). Right about the time that the Haynes sisters & Wallace & Davis were singing “Snow, snow, snow snow” on a train, a little brown field mouse scampered out from behind my TV/Entertainment center, and made it about a foot and half before I shrieked in terror and shoved the coffee table at it. It then quickly scurried back behind the TV, disappearing into the radiator hole in the floor, as I hyperventilated on the sofa, chanting “oh no, oh no, oh no!”.

Ten minutes later, as the “oh no, oh no, oh no”’s were winding down, I gathered the courage to untuck my legs from out from under me, and run (literally) to the kitchen to grab my cell phone out of my purse. Scenes from The Parent Trap ran through my head, as I banged the two remote controls against each other along the way, making enough noise to irritate my easily irritated neighbors, in hopes of keeping the mouse from making any more surprise appearances. My biggest fear was that it would decide to run out, just as I was running to the kitchen, and somehow our feet would meet. It’s little clawed, gnarled feet running across my soft, clumsy ones.

I dashed back to the sofa, out of breath more from fear than running. I immediately called my mom, and as soon as she picked up I reverted back to the 6th grade whining that often earned her backhand. I got absolutely no sympathy. So, I called the BFF. She didn’t pick up. So I text messaged the UCE, got no response, till about 1:00 am when he texted me back “Maybe you should get a cat. Hahaha!”.

The fourth person I called was my friend Kelly, who for two weeks has been trying to convince me to take her cat, Elvis and keep him and love him forever. So far my response has been “yeah, because I want kitty litter crumbs traipsed across the bathroom floor and hair over every inch of clothing that I own”. Last night I changed my mind and my new response immediately became “he’s a natural mouser, right?”

OMG. I don’t really want a cat. But I don’t want mice either. Or squirrels in my attic. Or the potential for other fearsome creatures that live downtown. And I definitely don’t want a cat named Elvis. Can I think of a better name before tomorrow morning?? We’ll see.

In the meantime, I pray that I get a good night’s sleep tonight, because I sure didn’t last night. The threat of mice crawling up my cute jammie pants in my sleep kept me up for quite a while. Will the sound of an erratic, nocturnal cat pouncing around all night long be any better? I guess I’ll find out soon. Could be worse, though. I could be the mother of that poor “I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas” kid. That kind of critter problem can’t be solved with just a housecat. You’d need a lion to shut that kid up!

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Three Things About Christmas I Can't Stomach

1. That god awful I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas song. And that obnoxious little kid that sings it. If I were that kid, as soon as I grew up and realized how lame I sounded, I would shoot myself!

2. The Dead Barefoot mom song. Aka The Christmas Shoes song. I cried like a baby the first time. Now I just want to send the kid home with a good scolding, saying "If your mom is dying, why are you out shopping, you little whiner??"

3. Grandma, and her reindeer hoofs on her chest. Or some white trash, half drunk old grampy singing about how he let his wife out of his sight long enough for her to be mauled. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. But I can even take that, more so than the damn Hippopotamus kid.

URGH!

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

The One About The Skirt

Ok, the votes are in, and the skirt is OUT! OMG! In case I didn’t feel self conscious enough about this stupid skirt I’m wearing today, I have had three people comment on it, both positively and negatively in the last hour.

The first one was rather humorous. I was walking past CTB’s (the new acronym for Cute Tech Boy) desk earlier, when I heard him call out “Hey, the gypsy camp called. They want their skirt back”. Ok, now. This is actually funny, since it’s a foray from his usual “Hey, the Senior Home called, some old lady wants her coat back”, which I get every single time I wear my cute Nordstrom coat with the fur on the collar & cuffs.

Secondly, I got up from my desk to get something and I noticed that there is a trail of tiny silver sequins along the path from the copier to where I sit. It’s like a tiny little fashion Hansel & Gretel have been here. Except it’s my skirt. As I was picking them up off the floor, lest anyone else see them and further humiliating comments ensue, the guy who sits across from me said “Yeah, I noticed those earlier. Yeah, your skirt is really, umm, girly”. Good night! When did girly ever get you anywhere in the workplace? Then again when did blogging all day long either?

Third, and lastly. As I was picking up said sequins from in front of the printer, one of the rare nice people from Account Services happened to walk by, and she said “Hey, I like your skirt. I meant to tell you earlier”. Of course, since I’m a “let it all hang out there” kinda person, I replied with “Really? You don’t think I look like I’m channeling Stevie Nicks?” to which she replied (thus causing me to hate my attire & cringe with horror) “Oh, but that’s what I like about it!”

Waaaahhhh! Waaaaahhhh! (In a whiny, crying voice) I look like a circa-80’s Stevie Nicks, but more colorful!!!! Actually, you could say I look like a circa-70’s-80’s-90’s-Present Day Stevie Nicks, because Dear Lord, she hasn’t changed her skirt or hairdo in thirty years!!! This skirt was really fashionable when I bought it!! Two years ago!! Oh no! It’s so going in the Hand-Me-Down bag tonight, although I really don’t have the heart to pass its tragic unfashionableness along to Michelle, because I love her. I couldn’t lead her astray down the path of tackiness that seems to follow this garment like a cloud or a shadow. Maybe I’ll give it to L.S., since its right up her alley (which, without meaning to be, is kind of an insult. Sorry L.S.!)

Anyways, that’s the one about the skirt. I know it’s vapid, shallow, slightly insensitive to L.S., but I had to write it. I had to share my skirt woe. Sigh…..I do digress.

Not Sure What To Title This, So This Will Have To Do.

A thought occurred to me this morning. A horrific, fear inspiring, terrible thought. Something that shook me up with insecurity for probably the rest of the day. Today, I could be mistaken for a homeschooler. OMG! The fear. The terror. The shaaaame!!!

So, what made me come to this terribly painful possibility. Well, today, I caught myself singing to myself, profusely singing to myself. Humming, singing, and Christmas songs nonetheless. That and I’m wearing a skirt, turtleneck and tall boots today, which could either be construed as fashionably warm or plain old Mormon based on the fact that I’m not showing an ounce of skin (yes, I have been watching too much Big Love).

Anyways, I used to know someone who did this very thing. No, not be fashionably warm - sing to herself. All the time. She would hum, or sing, quietly, under her breath, no matter what she was doing. She was just happy. So am I. But she was homeschooled, and though she was a raving liberal, she had the tragic foundation of freaky geekiness that only homeschoolers could fail to hide. Perchance, could I be mistaken for this kind of weird today?

I can’t help it that I hum and sing to myself. It’s freakin’ Christmas time people! The best time of the year! I have family I love so very much. I have a cute little apartment. I’m getting a cat. I have the joy of the Lord for goodness sake, and can I help it if it manifests itself in tone-deaf renditions of “Melikelikimaka” as I do my work? Or “We Three Kings” or “O Come Emmanuel” or “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”. I just love to sing. I love Christmas. I love to sing songs about Christmas.

So, as I was walking through the office, singing quietly to myself, wondering if my outfit really was a step too far on the path of “I’m starting to look my age”, that’s when it hit me. I look like a home schooler (well, not really, I have a hairstyle, and wear makeup). I sing like a homeschooler (I could throw some Kanye in there for good measure). I could be mistaken for this bane of coolness. The antithesis of all things me. Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrggghhhhhh!!

Now, I must admit, not all homeschoolers are freaks of nature. Just 99.98% of them. And I say this with just a tad of caution, since one of my best friends has fallen for a homeschooler (Why, oh why? When I thought you were so wonderfully smart???) I don’t want to offend anyone (Wow, was that ever a lie!). I’m sure there are some exceptions to the rule out there, as in any major group of people who attempt (but sadly fail) to defy classification & stereotype. But, the fact remains, there just is something uniquely “off” about them as a group. And frankly, I want to make a good impression on the Cute Tech Boy at work (who, I caught looking in my direction as I was walking back from the copy machine). And he’s just cool enough to fall into the category called “Common Sense” that recognizes that most of this blissfully ignorant, deprived community (the homeschoolers) are total dorks without a smidge of social aptitude.

I don’t want him to think that about me. At all. Why, why did I wear this skirt today? It’s so last season! Older than that even. It’s two years old. It looks like something I should’ve handed down already. And black tights with brown boots? Thinking no one would notice? Yes, shut up, I am this shallow.

I wonder if I can head up to the mall at work and get brown tights from Target. At least that might assuage some of my (probably unnoticed and unfounded) fears. Ok, this is good, all this unnecessary worrying about my skirt being mistaken as “Made In Utah” has caused me to stop singing. Progress. Progress indeed.

In the meantime, mull over this, one of the songs so ironically stuck in my head this morning: A favorite carol (and a movie with both George Clooney and Mark Wahlburg), “We Three Kings”. Note the references to Easter towards the end. That’s kind of why I like it. It’s more than just “He was born a babe”, it’s the full lifespan in one song.

We Three Kings

We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.

O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.

Born a king on Bethlehem's plain,
Gold I bring to crown Him again,
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign.

Frankincense to offer have I.
Incense owns a Deity nigh.
Prayer and praising all men raising,
Worship Him, God on high.

Myrrh is mine: Its bitter perfume
Breaths a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.

Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Sounds through the earth and skies.

O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light

Monday, December 03, 2007

Merry Christmas Baby!!

So, I'm so excited! What a great weekend. In the words of a sweet friend, I totally owned it. Except for the part where I had to deal with a cranky neighbor looking for his dustpan (I returned it already, I swear), I did exactly everything I wanted to do. Including a nap, some Kill Bill, some cleaning, family Christmas decorating time, a game, and another nap (wow!).

On Friday, I went to a super-fun craft show (not your mama's craft show, actually, kind of my mama's craft show, but she smokes pot, so whatever!), and while I was there, I got sucked into the mass consumerism disguised as artsy eccentricity that somehow has a way of vacuuming me up like an old Hoover.

So, what did I get??? Only patterns for what are going to be the coolest tea towels known to man (Viva Las Vegas, I Love Sushi, Chinatown & Lucha Libre). And a super cool print for my kitchen. And while I was there, I stopped by the booth for a store up in NE that I've been meaning to get to - Crafty Planet. I found out they are way cooler than I could've expected, and I should've visited them a long time ago.

In any case, a good friend, the U.C.E. actually, (who is now someone I maybe have a crush on) went as a Mexican wrestler for Halloween last year, and so in honor of his dedication to new & exciting Halloween costumes, I am making him some tea towels for his apartment with none other than the "Lucha Libre" design on them. Check out the pattern I got to make them. I hope he likes them - I kind of do like him.

Also, at said craft show, another friend turned me on to the super cool art of Adam Turman. Being the comic geek that I am, how could I not love it? Skulls? Pin-ups? Landscapes of my beloved city? Super neat-o! So, this is the print I picked up, as it is a little more than appropriate to how I spent half my summer - bicycling this great city.

Anyways, that was my Friday. Saturday I discovered a new Menards, and as I walked up from my primo parking spot to the front doors flanked by brick columns, the cold winter air nipping at my legs and pushing me forward, it was like a scene from some sci-fi movie. I swear the Mother Ship was calling me home. I love my new Menards. The way people grandparents love their grandchildren, I love this Menards. The way I should love my grandmother - I love this new Menards. Ohhhh, shiver!!

And ironically, all this love amounted to me spending less than $6 there that day. All I really needed was anchors for my shelf. Yeah, I did good.

Did a whole bunch of other stuff this weekend, Came home, put up said shelf and watched in amazement and gratitude as it stayed up on the wall. Put a vase up on it. It still stayed. A picture frame, it stayed. Some candles, it stayed. I didn't push my luck any further.

Watched some TV. Did some dishes. Took a nap. Got up & went over to the Coulons, where they were in full Christmas decorating mode. Josiah and I ate raisins as he put all the ornaments in one spot on the tree. Then Leah & I went for a Chipotle run, and miraculously all of us managed to sit through Hairspray, till it was time to go home.

There was so much more that I did this weekend, I can't even begin to list it. Yesterday was a positive whirlwind of football & the Wheaties (what I call my body's unsavory reaction to too much Gluten).
But now, I have something else on my mind. I'm kind of deflated. I just found out that the UCE went and saw a movie we were supposed to see together, without me. The last time he came into town we hung out and were supposed to go see this one movie together. I was so looking forward to it, because of how wonderful artistic and auteristic it looked (not autistic, you dorks!). But then, that day, I had a super busy time helping out a friend with car troubles. And by the time I got home & started getting ready for what was essentially our date, I was running super late. So, we missed the movie. But he said we'd go see it next time he was down. Now, today, I read that he went to see it already, in his blog. I couldn't be more deflated. Urrrrrrr!

Hmmm, is he tea towel worthy, I'm starting to wonder? In any case, I am having fun embroidering them. And even if he's not completely tea-towel worthy (much different than sponge worthy, trust me!), I'm sure one day I will find someone who is, and hopefully, at that time, the Lucha Libre references will still make sense. After all, if I can't find someone with whom to share Stretchy Pants references, then what good is love at all?

Friday, November 30, 2007

I Love Lucy!

So, prior to this morning, I thought the kind of stuff that has befallen me only happens in movies, or on I Love Lucy. I guess I was wrong. It has been THAT kind of morning. Pretty funny, if it weren't me.

It started off with the ever present squirrels in my attic waking me up, as they dueled. There is some serious Gladiator action going on up there that I would pay big money to see. If it was behind a screen and I was covered head to toe in protective, squirrel-proof gear, I would pay to see it. Seriously though, I can hear them fight, complete with the sound of pounding and thudding as they hit the floor, locked in little mini squirrelly headlocks. I can hear them chattering, arguing back and forth with one another, as they fight. I'm sure somewhere in there are some pretty crude squirrel yo' mama jokes. I just don't want to have to meet any of these street savvy, tough squirrels in a dark alley, or back behind the garbage dumpster.

So, as I'm lying in bed, mildly amused and yet still annoyed that they live up there, I decide to glance into the living room at the clock. 8:08, umm, I love my duvet. I roll over, warm and toasty, tucking my feet under the blanket.....what?? 8:08??? I have to be at work in 22 minutes. OHGOODNIGHT!!!! Yeah, that's how my day started out. I guess this means no Starbucks this morning. Oh sad.

I don't think I've ever flown to work as fast as I did this morning. I am not even going to admit to my average MPH going down 35W, but let's just say if it were years, it'd be a ripe old age. So far so good, though. I mean, I pull into the parking lot, only 6 minutes late technically. As I'm rushing up the walk, purse slung over my shoulder, tall boots under cropped jeans, Gap scarf flying out behind me, I actually could pass for a sophisticated, Type-A New Yorker, on a mission. That is till I miss the handle of the front door, and actually walk into the glass, smack my forehead (which surprises me, because that's not usually the thing on me that gets hit first). I'm standing there, stunned, with what will soon be a lovely little red goose egg on my now throbbing face, rubbing my forehead in pain and shock, as I look inside the glass doors and see three people including the receptionist huddled around the front desk laughing at me. Nice. Thanks guys!!

What was I supposed to do but be cool, open the door calmly, and walk in to face the music? Good morning to me!

So, as I head up to my desk, trying to act cool, thinking I still might actually look cool if no one notices the Pinky & the Brain style boo-boo now developing on my forehead, I pass cute Tech Boy's desk. As I'm walking, I thought I'd wave, kind of nonchalantly, in a devil-may-care fashion that masks the fact that I really do have a crush on him. As I wave casually, and turn my achy head to see him, I am disappointed to find there's no one at his desk. But there is someone standing right next to it, who then proceeds to ask me "Who you waving at??". Ummmmm, just keep walking. Pretend like you didn't hear that.

Now, here's where it really gets good people. We're building up to the grand climax! Get ready, because here we go.

I approach my little cube, finally relieved to be in somewhat familiar and comforting territory. As I set my stuff down at my desk, I think to myself, "Hmm, I probably should make a bathroom run to check out the cranial damage." So, with my purse still in hand, I walk over to the restroom, not expecting anything more can go awry. Boy, was I wrong. I walk into the restroom, and set my purse down on the counter, check out my forehead, reach into my purse for a little powder to cover the redness, use it, put it back in the purse, and as I do, the cuff on my shirtsleeve catches the handle of my purse, and the whole thing drops to the floor, spilling make-up, my phone, my wallet, everything in that kitchen sink, onto the tile.

One item however, quickly becomes the catalyst for mass hilarity. As my belongings spill rapidly out of my purse, onto the floor, my Bare Essenctuals “Warm” blush container hits the wall across from the sinks, the top pops off, and brick colored powder splays itself graffiti style across the whole wall. Then, it hits the floor, and since it’s in a little round container, it spirals across the area in front of the sinks, trailing brown powder in its wake. Spiraling, it continues to the low point in the floor, which happens to be in the handicapped stall, all the while leaving a trail of blush everywhere it touches, like the tail behind a shooting star. As I survey the damage, it looks like someone brought an airbrush gun loaded with burnt sienna paint into the bathroom and opened fire. There is makeup EVERYWHERE! Including all over my jeans leg, and my new boots.

Panicky, I grab a handful of paper towels and hit the floor, trying to mop it up, only spreading it out more, and making a bigger mess. I wet them, and that seems to help. I circle my way around the bathroom, praying no one walks in, and the end of my trail leads me to the handicapped stall. I clean, I scrub, I grab more towels, I wet them down, I scrub some more. And when I’m done, minutes later, I throw them in the toilet (not thinking obviously), and hit flush. Only to watch the toilet water, now a beautiful dark amber color, start to back up, as the toilet begins to overflow.

What could I do? I had to laugh. I just stood there, watching it fill, surveying the stall for a plunger, finding none, and all I could do was chuckle. Ha ha ha ha ha. And then I reached my hand into the toilet bowl, grabbed what paper towels I could and pulled them out, dripping brownish-red toilet water all the way to the garbage dispenser in the other part of the bathroom. My hand dripping, mixing toilet water with makeup on the floor, creating a beautiful brick colored mud that reminded me of Native American paintings.

The mess that begin with a bump to the head has now become a full fledged disaster area. My hand was covered in the murky mess of makeup and toilet water. The floor has a lovely brown tint to it. My head is throbbing. My purse contents are still on the floor in front of the sink. And I’m standing there, in the midst of it all, clocked in, laughing.

That was my morning. After many more minutes of cleaning, with paper towels (that now went into the garbage), and attempting to disinfect my right hand with scalding hot water and Bath & Body Antibacterial Hand Soap, I was able to trudge back to my desk, a slight smirk on my face, and the knowledge of Murphy’s Law on my heart. At least no one walked in on me, which would’ve only added public embarrassment to my already burgeoning sense of shame.

That was my morning. It’s 11:30 now. I’m about to leave for lunch. I am afraid to go outside. I’m afraid to get up from my chair and leave my desk. I’m a hazard to myself. But at least I can laugh about it. It’s been one of those days.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Mmmmm.....

So, I am in a baking mood, no doubt! I just have the urge to go home and make something delicious and pretty and wonderful using either Baileys or Eggnog (the two delicious liquids I have on hand right now).




Sadly, however, when I moved into my new apartment, someone who shall remain nameless, but who's already on my naughty list, dropped my Kitchen-Aid Stand Mixer, and since then it's not working. I just need to take it in to get looked at, but till last week it wasn't a big deal. Then Thanksgiving hit, and with it so did the orders for Gluten Free pies, and boom, I was without a mixer and having to borrow one from none other than the guilty culprit himself. Who then proceeded to ask for it back like his life depended on being within a 5 foot vicinity of an appliance he hasn't used since 2005. Turd!




Urgh, some people just annoy me.




Oh, speaking of which, I just had to turn away some kid trying to raise money for D.A.R.E., and I felt like a total tool. How do you look at some poor kid, straight in the eye and say "No, sorry, we don't allow solicitors in the building" when it's below freezing out and he has puppy dog eyes. I'm so ashamed.




Ok, back to ripping on this person who, I believe I remember, broke my Kitchen-Aid. Yeah, so anyways, as I'm remembering that my mixer is broken, and his is returned, it occurs to me, I can't bake anything sweet & lovely tonight. Without a mixer. I am very disheartened.




That is, till I start thinking of what else I'd like to cook, as I settle in on this chilly night, ready to nest on the sofa, warm & toasty in my favorite blanket, watching more episodes of Big Love.




Risotto. This is perfect Risotto weather.




Risotto is one of those foods that is, by it's very nature, comforting. I mean, to make it right, you have to open a bottle of wine. And the aroma of it cooking is so wonderfully delicious and romantic and heady. It usually contains something savory and herbacious, in tonight's case a little fresh oregano & thyme. The taste of it is melty, and creamy, and always salty enough to satisfy even me. It takes time, so you have to be in the kitchen, stirring, which opens the door to something else that makes me grin - the fact that I can turn on some Christmas music, throw on an apron & with my glass of wine hang out in the kitchen for a while, proving that just because you live alone and eat alone doesn't mean you have to be a Debbie Downer. Waaaw-waaaaaw.




So, that's my plan tonight. I'm excited to head to the grocery store right away after work & get the few things I will need for this delicious concoction. For anyone who may feel inspired, here is my favorite Risotto recipe. It's perfect for a night like this.




Italian Sausage & Mushroom Risotto
Serves 8
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound Italian sweet sausage, casings removed, crumbled into 1/2-inch Pieces
8 ounces portobello mushrooms, stemmed, dark gills scrapedout, caps diced
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano
1 1/2 cups red wine
6 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1 large onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 cups arborio rice (about 13 ounces)
1 cup freshly grated Asiago or Parmesan cheese

Preparation

Heat oil in a heavy, large pot over medium-high heat. (I find that a Le Creuset dutch oven or casserole is perfect for this.) Add sausage and sauté until beginning to brown, about 3 minutes. Add all mushrooms, thyme, and oregano and sauté until mushrooms are tender, about 10 minutes. Remove from pot & set aside.

Add 1/2 cup wine; boil until almost absorbed, about 1 minute. Set aside. Meanwhile, bring stock to simmer in large saucepan; remove from heat and cover to keep hot.

In the same pot as before, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add onion and garlic and sauté until onion is translucent, about 5 minutes.

Reduce heat to medium and add rice; stir 2 minutes. Add remaining 1 cup Madeira; simmer until absorbed, about 2 minutes. Add 1 cup hot stock; simmer until almost absorbed, stirring often, about 3 minutes. Continue to cook until rice is just tender and mixture is creamy, adding more stock by cupfuls, stirring often and allowing most stock to be absorbed before adding more, about 25 minutes.

Just before the last of the stock is stirred in, add and stir in the sausage mixture and ¾ of the cheese. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to serving bowl. Pass the remaining cheese separately.