Weekend Update: Embarrassing T-Shirts, Julie & Julia

Good Last Day of August to you.

I hope you had an enjoyable weekend.

Saturday morning I went to my 2nd-ever cross country meet which I found out is abbreviated by all the cool people as "XC."

My daughter has just started "XC" this year, after giving up many years of dance. So since our son never participated in this sport, I'm still learning so much about it.

Like, there is no regular, obvious way to follow them because, well, it's cross country, not cross asphalt. So they run around cornfields and into woods and around schools and through crowds of screaming parents at various points en route to the "chute" which is not a slide as in "Chutes and Ladders" at all, but the finish lane.

And, all parents of all teams at invitationals wear T-shirts with pithy, sassy sayings on the backs of them, like, and I quote:

XC Parents Need:
No bleachers or chairs, only comfortable shoes.
No announcers, only coaches screaming out splits.
No shelter from rain or shine, only a poncho or umbrella.
No popcorn or hotdogs, only a snack in our pocket.
No cheerleaders or mascots, only a loud voice.
No time outs, only a straight 5k.
And, at the end of the chute, all we need are our runners.

Yes, Jorge and I actually wore shirts with this manifesto on Saturday and will be expected to wear them every Saturday through October. Not to mention that I ordered a size too big for myself, so I'm wearing a frump shirt with all that wise-crackin' talk on the back. I would like to amend mine to say:

Some XC parents need:
Lawn chairs, because we are older than you young parents in skinny jeans, not that we're bitter.
To know what the "split" is that the coach is screaming out. Some of us thought those were things you did in cheerleading.
Shelter because rain makes us cranky.
More than a "snack in our pocket" which should instead say "pockets" because there isn't one giant universal parent pocket, but that's nit picking.
Also, I would like a hot dog, thank you.

I do appreciate that there are not time-outs, though. Time outs are torture, as I remember from our son's sports.

Once again, my intrepid daughter was thrilled that she did not come in last place and that she beat her own time by a few seconds. I always knew she was awesome, and now she has proven it to the universe. She is awesome and very cute, but she doesn't like for me to say those things, so let's just pretend I told you, "My kid is totally average in every respect. More accurately, she is merely one teenager in a nebulous cloud of teenagers."

Saturday night, I went with three friends to see "Julie and Julia," which was a great little entertaining movie, even though, as you know, I cannot cook. J & J contains both funny and sweet moments, but it wouldn't be "Lid the Prude" talking about the movie unless I mentioned that there were also a few bad words and overly sexy scenes in an otherwise pleasant little diversion. I'm sorry, but you just don't need the images of sex and Julia Child within five minutes of each other in any context.

However, Bloggers, this is a movie about blogging among other themes, and I think you will enjoy it. From the time Julie creates her blog to getting her first comments to getting bigger recognition, you will relate and/or fantasize. When tension grows between her husband her because of blogging, you will relate. When she worries about not having a post for her readers, you'll understand her anxiety. When she realizes the narcissistic nature of blogging, you will recognize that truth once again and laugh.

My friends often leaned forward in their seats to see my reactions to the blogging parts of the movie, and I'm sure the row behind us behind us wondered what I must have done to inspire this group action.

This is the first time I've seen blogging featured in a movie. It made me think a lot about why I do this and why you do this and how long it will last for all of us.

Here's a good article on Julie Powell and how her blog "The Julie and Julia Project" inadvertently made her famous, and since I didn't give a true plot synopsis, here is the trailer:



Have a great Monday! Bon appetit!

You Know What Happens When I Get Interested in the Kitchen ...

You know what happens when I get interested in the kitchen.

Look out.

For instance, yesterday I was trying to make a pork loin roast and rice. I spilled rice all over the counter top and floor. After that I was looking for the meat thermometer and spilled wooden skewers all over the floor. And the day before that, I broke a mirror in the kitchen, just passing through. So basically the kitchen has been a mine field for Zoe.

Kitchens are bad.

But I did happen to find this site yesterday that I think was created for people like me and 12 year olds who are beginning to cook.

Just kidding.
No I'm not.

Kathy Maister's startcooking.com was an official honoree in the 2008 Webby Awards for step-by-step tutorial sites, and although not each recipe has an accompanying video, some do, which is a nice plus. Just for fun, I watched the "How to Fry an Egg" video. Not because I needed help, mind you, but just because, well, you know.

OK, I admit it. I was starting out with my skillet too hot. And I was cooking them too long according to this 1 minute video:



Here's a video for Tex-Mex Cheeseburgers, which I will be making soon:



I love the "stop-action" way the videos are shot with tiny little sound effects, like ketchup going, "Phhhhphth."

So this site isn't exhaustive in it's number and scope of recipes, but you should just check it out anyway. It's a lovely site that I'm only slightly envious of.

I need to find my niche, people, and do some cool videos.

You know, where people "see what you're saying." :)

TV is on the blink ... Now what?

First of all, let me say a big THANK YOU to all of you for your kindness yesterday concerning the laundry room unveiling. The comments I received were so sweet and affirming I think I could live on them for a week. You make me want to re-do another room just to get that love again! But then I might lose Jorge's love because I would be spending a lot of money. Sigh. Can't win 'em all. But I just wanted you to know how good you made me feel.

Now, if you read here often, you know that I do like to watch TV. Not to the exclusion of more lofty pursuits like making S'mores, but hey, I've gotta be honest.

And I'm not snooty about having HD or big screens or dozens of channels. I just want some good ol' talent shows, dating shows, weight loss shows, people who didn't know they were pregnant but had babies shows, stranded on an island shows and how to talk to animals shows.

Occasionally I get all high-brow and watch Dateline, but you know, it's not that often. Sometimes I just pretend to watch it to impress Jorge.

And if I'm feeling real, real guilty about all the mindless drivel I've been sopping up, I take in a PBS program, and that cancels out the influence of a week's worth of junk shows.

I think you can see I'm intentional about this pastime.

Lately, our old TV has been on the blink. The 36" sleeps there in its cabinet until we nudge it awake. And then, like a 46 year-old woman, it has to warm up before video and audio are coherent.

For weeks, we have grown used to diagonal technicolor lines and the mysterious voices behind the apoplectic visuals.

Today, though, when I turned it on, this is what I saw, and I knew it was bad:



This, of course, means the same thing as the dreaded Windows "blue screen of death."

Now what?

Well, I will want to buy a new one.

Jorge will drag his feet.

Sticker shock will cause him to faint right there in HH Gregg or wherever.

This is why I always carry a bucket of water whenever I go shopping with him.

Then he will probably want to do some research, and I will get engrossed in whatever's showing on the 30 TV screens there in the store.

To be honest, I really don't like the looks of the flat big screens that just sit there looking stark, like a floating head. They remind me of aliens for some reason. But I'm pretty sure that's almost my only choice now.

And what I dread the most is learning the new system. (As if my life isn't full enough of that at work right now.) I don't want a million channels and split screens and all that jazz, as they say in the rest home.

I just want a plain old TV that I can talk back to when the need arises. That's all the interaction I want.

Nevertheless, I know what's coming. It's going to be complicated.

Do you have any advice? If you really like yours, will you tell me what it is and why? Any warnings?

Remember ... It's Just a Laundry Room

But it's a rockin' laundry room, I think!

Let me say that the color on the walls is not exactly what you see here. It's not hot pink. I tried flash/no flash/flash without overhead lights/no flash backdoor open, etc., and nothing matched the true colors.

It's not exactly watermelon pink, and it's not red. It's coral, which is a pinky red, kind of like salmon. So just keep that in mind. It's not hot pink.

In fact, the walls are more like this color, so keep this in mind:




















And of course, you can click on each picture to see better.

So here is the little room when you walk in:



Here is a sort of corner shot. Note that my ironing board folds out of the wall (to the left of the basket). I love that it doesn't have to stand all of the time or be folded up and put away. Have I mentioned I am lazy?



On top of the cabinets, I put tropical colored baskets and pics of my girlfriends and me on the lake. Summertime fun! I searched everywhere for just the right baskets. Even Hobby Lobby disappointed me. I found these half price at a Jo-Ann's Fabric store. I cannot tell you how excited I was.





OK, here is a feature that I love. A couple of years ago, we vacationed on Anna Maria Island, FL. It was probably the best vacation we ever had. So I had a collage made on the Walmart photo site. I chose the lime green background, the font, and pics, of course. There are actually 30 pictures on here. I LOVE seeing this reminder of Paradise when I throw dirty clothes in the washer. It's therapeutic.




Here is a poster that goes well with the island theme, I think:



Here is a print I found at Hobby Lobby called "Palm with Red Sky." Please note that part of the reason it took me so long to complete the room is that I waited for all frames and prints to go half price.



This is the print that started it all. I wish you could see it in person. The flower in the lower left hand corner cried out to me: "Hey, Pale Island Girl. Wouldn't you like to be on a beach with white sand, sipping a drink and carrying me behind your ear?" And I said, "Why yes, Tropical Flower, I would. I'm going to take you home now." Oh I wish you could see the true color.





Here's the real island girl. This is also sort of her room:



So there you have it, my new laundry Florida room. When slushy, dreary March 2010 rolls around, I may bring a lawn chair in here and just bask in the tropical ambience. All I'll need is a box fan, a cool drink, and a great book. Until the buzzer on the dryer rings!

Not Black Lung, Just Stress

I think I will live. I also think I have developed Acid Reflux, which is better than a heart attack, so I will take it.

I think stress brought the reflux on.

For instance, at work, I am learning a new database system that many churches use called, "Shelby." I have no idea why someone named the product "Shelby," but the one we were using before was called "Regis," which was not in honor of Regis Philbin but a shortened version of "registration."

Anyway, here is what it has been like. This is what I call my "kitchen metaphor," to explain my level of anxiety.

Since I've worked in other databases, I'm a little familiar with what's going on, but this one is new in many ways.

Metaphor: I'm in a great big new kitchen, and I feel lost. I've been in kitchens before (Regis), but not this one. I cannot find a spatula. I cannot find an oven mitt. Maybe this kitchen does not even have an oven mitt.

Sometimes, I pull on cabinet doors with all my might, but they are locked. This makes me think bad thoughts/words, right in a church "kitchen."

There are a couple of people I can ask for help, but sometimes they are out to lunch or do not know the answer. They usually say, "This kitchen is just weird like this; get used to it."

So then I have to get on a phone and call a complete stranger at this kitchen's designer's headquarters. I do not like to do this because I'm not fluent in "kitchenese."

So I call and say, "Hi, I'm Lidna Crow. I can't get this one thing to work. Suggestions?"

And then they want me to give them details.

Sheesh!

I'm finally starting to learn my way around the kitchen, though, so it won't be long until I'm making PopTarts for everyone, which is the equivalent of a report in database talk.

So that's the work stress.

Then today, I came home to find not one but TWO #2's left by Zoe!

I was scrambling around trying to figure out what possessed her to do such a dastardly thing, when I took it all by paper towel into the bathroom to hear the toilet making a funny sound, which I then saw was from a leak!

So I ran outside with the poo and then ran back in and shut off the toilet.

Part of me wanted to run back to work to get away from the house stress and mess--part of me wanted to stay at home and avoid work this week--I was trapped between two parallel universes of frustration!

There is one place I'm enjoying escaping to, however, and you could never guess where. It's my new laundry room, which I'm going to unveil tomorrow. If I could only fit my TV, recliner and elliptical trainer in there, I would make it my stress-free apartment--no databases, no leaking toilets, just paradise. (Winky-wink, hint!--See ya tomorrow!)

It Might Be Black Lung

How was your weekend?

Mine?

Well, you know you've read too much of your Austen-esque novel when the first phrase that comes to mind in answering that question is "I was taken ill."

Yes, there is something physically wrong with me, but I haven't settled on my diagnosis yet.

Symptoms:

Summer cold turned sinus infection. Big, bad headache and lovely drainage.
Dull, aching pain in chest and left arm and hand.
Dry, wimpy cough (like Derek Zoolander: "I think I'm getting the Black Lung, Pop.")
Bored to death.

Taking all of these symptoms into consideration, I believe I could have one of three maladies:

GERD (Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disease) although the word sounds like a combination of gout and cottage cheese (curds): "Cottage Cheese Toe."
walking pneumonia
three day-long heart attack

Only time will tell, I guess.

In spite of my affliction, I went to Kristin's first-ever cross country meet Saturday morning. She was nervous (so was I) before she started, but it all ended quite successfully according to her: "I didn't come in last!"


Here is her mother with Black Lung at the meet having her picture surreptitiously taken by Jorge and Katie. Now what kid wouldn't be encouraged by this display of enthusiasm? Black Lung, black hat, black shirt. Let the good times roll. Go, team.



After the meet, I came home and died. I fell asleep all afternoon and early evening.

Sunday morning: no church, just a day spent in bed reading the novel and watching snippets of movies like "The Firm," "War of the Worlds" and "Dances With Wolves," which is so long that think I faded in and out of sleep several times and "Mystic River," which I was afraid to watch full-out due to violence and heartbreak, so I only sort of watched it from behind my book because I am an emotional weenie.

BTW, why does the volume of commercials always come on way louder than the feature? It got so tedious adjusting the remote and removing/replacing my glasses every time I switched from TV to book to commercial to book back to TV. Very strenuous when you have the Black Lung.

Then, because the show must go on, I had to go to 180.Remix to make sure the new registration system worked correctly (like I would know what to do if it didn't). So I took my black lungs to Oneighty and tried not to infect a whole group of kids and volunteers.

Then I came home and collapsed again, here in this chair to tell you every single exciting detail of the weekend, including lovely drainage.

Now I will leave you with a cliff-hanger: Will She Go to the Doctor or Not?

But back to the first sentence of this post--How was your weekend?

Friday's Fave Five-A Book, A Movie, A Blouse, A Food, A Song(s)

Susanne at Living to Tell the Story continues her highly acclaimed and successful Broadway smash of a meme: Friday's Fave Fives! (Wild applause.)
Here is my list.

1. My Favorite Book This Week

As you probably know, I don't read much fiction. However, I did find a novel recently that I'm waaaay into, as in I'm falling asleep each night reading it and can't wait to pick it up again. It's called An Accomplished Woman by Jude Morgan, St. Martin's Press, 2007.

I like it because the characters are rich and the dialogue is true and the author slips in great witticisms and observations through the characters' thoughts and dialogue. Here's an example of a passage that I stopped and re-read three times.

The passage describes the way the protagonist, Lydia, feels about her mother and then her father:

"Loving her and admiring her, still Lydia had always looked to her father as one looks instinctively at the clock; that must be right. That will tell me where I am."

2. My Favorite Movie This Week:












"Every Girl Should Be Married," 1948, Cary Grant and Betsy Drake. I didn't know until after the movie that Grant and Drake were married for about 10 years.

These classic movies entertain me on several different levels. One of the weirdest ways they engross me is the difference in standard pronunciations from then and now. I don't know what accent it was that they were all using, but it seems like all Hollywood female stars pronounced "girl" "gull."

"Yes, she's a lovely gull, isn't she?"
"Quite."

3. My Favorite Purchase This Week:

A blouse from Maurice's, which is similar to this:















4. My Favorite Food This Week:

It's a repeat, but I LOVES it ...






Pure Protein Peanut Butter Bars. Twenty (20!) grams of protein. It's like a chocolate bar that is good for me. I have about three BOXES of this bar in my cabinet right now. It's a great mid-afternoon chocolate craving snack.

5. The Song That Has Stuck in My Head All Week:

It's a tie:

A. Carrie Ann by the Hollies

B.

Candy girl (sugar, sugar) - Archies

So I hope that leaves on a happy note to start the weekend. Thanks, Susanne!

About August

So on my way to work this morning, I was listening to an NPR essay about how the month of August is morphing from the August we knew into something entirely different.

I feel exactly the same way as commentator Frank DeFord: "So August was a nice respite. We needed August. Then things changed. First, everybody started going back to school before Labor Day. Who'd ever heard of such a thing?"

Ever wish you had written what someone else did? That's me with this DeFord essay.

Anyway, what does August recall to you?

Yesterday I mentioned that it was August 18, 1973 when I went to the Indiana State Fair to finally see Donny Osmond. I believe I was 10 years old. Also, for my entire life, in mid-August, my Fall allergies would set in, and I'd have to take lots of meds and stay in air conditioned rooms a bunch, which was depressing as a kid. This was before most places had central air. I remember the small window unit in my very lavender bedroom and the hum it made as I fell asleep (often trying to breathe) on hot August evenings.

But let's not end on my gasping for air--What are your favorite August memories?





If the audio fails, you can read the commentary at NPR's website.

Donny, Jorge, and the Class of 2013

First of all, I can't believe that yesterday, August 18, passed without my mentioning that it is the anniversary of the first time I saw Donny Osmond at the Indiana State Fair, 1973.

Excuse me? THIRTY SIX YEARS AGO?? I did the math quickly in my head and then wrote it out like a third grader to make sure--yes, 36 years ago. In this context, 36 years is like an eon, which the dictionary says contains two or more eras. Oh, will the oldness ever stop? (Yes, I guess it will at some point!)

And yes, Donny is indeed going to be on DWTS this season (Sept 21), but I'm a little afraid to watch due to the Cloris Leachman Aging Syndrome, which is more painful for the audience than for the afflicted participant.

Speaking of TV, one of my biggest faves, Biggest Loser, premieres Sept. 15, or five weeks from now, to be exact, which is like half an eon, or one era. I cannot wait.

On a completely different subject, it has finally happened: I have called George "Jorge" so much here on the blog (and IRL) that I slipped up at work and signed him up for something as Jorge Crow, which cracked up a co-worker. Me too, because I never thought I'd do that. At least I didn't write "Jorge the Jabanero." My calling him Jorge goes back to when we were in high school. He was in Spanish class; I was in French class. Of course, everyone had appropriate names for those classes, and his was Jorge. It stuck with me and has picked up steam in the last couple of years. Also, sometimes I bellow "Jorge Feliciano!" when I really want his attention.

Finally, Beloit College has released its annual Beloit College Mindset List, which illustrates the cultural differences in the lives of students entering college.

For the class of 2013, here are a few:

* Michael Landon, Dr. Seuss, and Freddie Mercury have always been dead.

* The Green Giant has always been Shrek, not the big guy picking vegetables.

* The KGB has never officially existed.

* They have never had to “shake down” an oral thermometer.

* The European Union has always existed.

* Condoms have always been advertised on television.

* There has always been a Cartoon Network.

* They have always been able to read books on an electronic screen.

* There have always been flat-screen televisions.

* There has always been a Planet Hollywood.

* There has always been blue Jell-O.

You can read the full list here. Can you think of any to add?

More Fish Flakes: Wedding Rings, Michael Vick & Carrie Ann

I did not know that it would be possible to find a picture of a cute fish, one that is real, I mean, not animated. But look at this fish. It is a cute fish. He's kind of smiling.

I think my "empty arms syndrome" [no baby to hold] is getting the better of me, don't you?

Random Flakes:

1. USA Today had a small story about which celebrities do/do not wear wedding rings. Why do people care? The article says that "Seeing stars wear their rings shows that they're open about the status of their relationship."

Last time I checked, most stars are open about everything, including things we wish they wouldn't share.

Anyway, I was just wondering what you all think about not wearing the wedding rings. Do you always wear yours? Does it bother you if married people choose not wear theirs?

2. Michael Vick. Do you have an opinion about his return to the NFL? I am all conflicted. I know that everyone deserves second chances and that he has paid for his crime. I'm just having a hard time letting go of my complete repulsion to this crime. Words fail me.

It seems the older I get, the more sensitive I am to suffering of any kind, even animals. So, having heard just a few details of what this man personally did to dogs (not just his associates, but he himself) I find myself not feeling so full of grace. I'm just being honest.

I don't know, if I were in charge of Michael Vick's life, what I would do with the man as far as a career goes, although I would vengefully like to sentence him to a lifetime of serving dogs. I guess something in me doesn't want him to regain NFL idol status. But I know this is not the majority opinion, nor is it the most biblical. Just keepin' it real and processing feelings out loud here at 2nd Cup. How do you feel about it?

3. Carrie Ann. Speaking of dogs. So one of my co-workers is an extreme dog lover. Make that "X-treme." A few months ago, she adopted a rescued Shih Tzu who had been caged the entire six years of her life in a puppy mill. The dog looks like the one at the left.

The dog's bottom teeth are gone, and her little tongue sticks out as a result, which is adorable. When my co-worker brought her home, the dog did not know how to walk up steps (still prefers ramps) and did not know how to jump up on a bed and did not know what a treat was. Have you ever heard of a dog who didn't know what to do with a "cookie?" Well, I got to meet this little sweetie the other day, and my heart just melted.

That may also be why the Michael Vick thing bothers me so much. Domesticated animals are at our mercy. I hate it when the powerful abuse the weak, no matter what the situation is or who the parties are.

The kicker is, the dog's name is "Carrie Ann," which is ironic, since my co-worker's name is Carrie! She thought about changing it, but it's been the little dog's name for six years, and all things considered, it's pretty sweet. I'm glad she didn't change it.

Summertime, and the Livin' Ain't Easy--Summer Colds, Hot Flashes & Canine Antics

One reason summertime ain't easy right now is that I have a summer cold, which is completely ridiculous and unacceptable. I think this might be why I couldn't sleep the other night.

BTW, you know how I wrote about Zoe watching me and quoted Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me" shower lyrics? Well, within a couple of hours after that, I finished my shower, opened the shower door, and there she sat, staring up at me. It was a case of life imitating the art of my blog, I guess.

Back to the post: another reason it ain't easy is that the hot flashes are back. I had a few last year, and then "poof" they were gone, and now they're back. For those of you who haven't experienced it yet, I can tell you that is the weirdest sensation. I actually start feeling it in my legs first, and then it moves to my trunk and from there radiates enough heat that I could hold a marshmallow in my hand and organically, spontaneously toast it. But how ridiculous. Whoever heard of knees sweating before anything else on a body?

It's also not easy because my running is killing me. It's the heat. I just can't do it. So I try for early morning or late at night, and that's not working so well.

An odd thing happened the other day when I was running which has made running definitely less easy for me. I turned down a street that is not normally on my path, and all of a sudden, not one but two Great Danes started their WOOOFing at me, running until they reached the ends of their chains which jerked them back. Scared me to death. The owner just sat on her front porch, yakking away on her phone while I almost peed my pants.

But that's not the end of it. As soon as my Fight or Flight response settled down, I heard a dog approaching me quickly from the back. He was smaller, because nothing is bigger than a Great Dane, I guess, and he was NOT happy that I was on his turf. His owner was in her yard and watched me stop in my tracks and yell at him, "NO! Go HOME! NO!" while he just ran circles around me barking like a maniac, rabid thing.

So then I would walk a few steps, and he would go bonkers again. Then I'd stop, and he would run circles around me. All the while I'm yelling "No!" which has the same effect as if Jorge yelled "No!" as I reached my hand into a bowl of Peanut M&M's. This spectacle went on for years.

Finally, I turned around to the owner and in a fit of desperate incredulity yelled, "Are you going to come and get your dog??" Like, "Oh, come ON. What is wrong with you? Rescue me, Lady!"

And she replied, "I would if I could!"

???

So I fought this ankle biter all the way to the end of the block. I guess when I turned the corner I left his territory, and I'm sure he felt superior.

I cannot tell you how ANGRY I was at that moment. I wanted to say and do a sundry of mean things.

So I just started praying to calm down, and then I started hypothesizing about what "I would if I could" might mean.

"Perhaps she just had a round of chemo."
"Perhaps she has heart problems."
"Perhaps she is on house arrest."
"Perhaps the dog was initially chained up but he overpowered her, chained her up and ran like the wind."

I was just trying to think of anything to arouse forgiveness.

Also, this last week I have been learning a new software program at work. You can imagine how not fun this is.

Let me finish on one good note, though: My laundry room is almost complete! You will be shocked at what I ended up choosing. It is very "not me." Which can be a good thing.

Insomnia

It's 5:28 am, and I've been awake since 2:00 due to mid-life hormonal power surges and the persistent snore next to me.

So I got up and wrote a draft for Internet Cafe.

Zoe is looking at me. She is quite confused. "This isn't in the routine," is what she is thinking, only in dog language.

She is constantly looking at me. Even when I clean the glass in the front door:


Yes, that is a "Yorkie border" that she is peeking over, designed to keep her from the front part of the house because she is not trustworthy at all, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, her constant observation of me reminds me of Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me," circa 1984.

When I'm in the shower
I'm afraid to wash my hair
'Cause I might open my eyes
And find someone standing there ....

This is Just Funny! A Video About Youth Pastors

Oh, please, anyone who reads this, especially anyone who reads this and happens to employ me, please don't take offense. This is just good clean fun, and I say that while offering you the biggest "Awkward Side Hug!" ever!

The vid:
This is Just Funny!

Cleanin' up the Fish Flakes and First Day of School

Loose ends--who can stand 'em?

Blister yesterday: sorry for the photo. I realize some of you read your blogs early in the a.m., and my blister was a bit too much for you with the delicate early morning stomachs. But it was all I had to post. Seriously. Maybe it's time to consider hiatus when all you have to post is a giant bubbly blister. Anyway, I did a "surgical procedure" on it and ran yesterday afternoon. I'm like a legendary Olympian or something, staying focused, strong, and pushing through the pain. Of a toe blister.

Re-decorating the boss's office: I did not use real paint, although some of you were sweet to worry. I am not crazy. My boss is a man who notices when his paper clips have been moved on his desk, so throwing a Jolly Rancher wrapper on his floor might have pushed him over the edge, let alone painting a wall. By the way--that green? That's the real color of the walls. Our office is wild on color. The wall directly behind me is orange.

Hate Mail: Turns out it wasn't a joke but written as a response from a local person to my newspaper column. I spoke with him personally about it, and he still hates me, but I did try to apologize for being so hate-able, which apparently made me all the more hate-able. Shrug. It's out of my hands now. But you were lovely to surround me like a pack of elephants protecting one from a lion. Some of you elephants had fangs! I felt the love.

What else?

Oh yes, the Sweetness drove herself to school for the first time yesterday; that's why she's holding keys in these pics. She had a pretty good day and didn't starve before lunch like she thought she would, which was her main concern. The apple didn't fall far ....



Despite school starting, I'm dragging out summer as long as I can by enjoying this as often as possible:



And by using Hawaiian Tropic Sunscreen 4 as body lotion. I know it's weird. I know that. But I just want to smell the coconuts, to make the summer linger upon my skin where a tan does not.

How are you making summer last?

Wordless Wednesday: Running's Gift to Feet

Fish Flakes For You

I'm trying to think of another term for "random post," and I'm liking "fish flakes" because I think of the pieces of this post being loosed above the aquarium (by me) and floating gently down to the water (bloggy land) where they disperse and may be consumed by the fishies (you) if they wish.

I know. You AND the fish AND Arnold are all like "Whachoo talkin' 'bout, Lid?' Seriously, doesn't this fish seem to have that same expression?
Nevermind.
Did you know yesterday was national Smores Day? Does that mean we can't celebrate today? I will tell you one thing for sure--do NOT try to toast coconut covered marshmallows on a campfire. The coconut is already toasted, so you just get "Cracklin' Charred Coconut Covered Mallows," which is not nearly as fun as that sounds.

Did you know that some people enjoy making their own marshmallows?

I don't get it. It's like trying to make your own Kleenex or jeans button ... Why? And they are usually square, which precludes shooting them from a marshmallow gun.














I'm taking this one back to school shopping today. Can't believe the baby is a high school junior now. She took the paper work to receive a parking pass for their lot. How is this possible?

This is her smile that says, "Enough with the camera, Mom." Precious. Just precious.

Here she is at 5 wearing a dress I wore when I was little and at 6 in kindergarten. Sigh.

I'm pretty sure she's never going to actually grow all the way up and go away to college and move out and stuff like that because all that is so overrated. I'm sure she just wants to stick by my side and be my little buddy for the rest of her life. Yeah, I'm sure of it.

And for the final fish flake, I need to report that I have finally, officially, received my first hate mail. I don't think it's exaggerating to say someone hates you if he comes right out and says, "I hate you." Yesterday I opened up my email to find a horrible, HORRIBLE message from someone letting me know in no uncertain terms that he/she hates me.

Yes, it was that bad and worse. And I totally cracked up. It was a response to my last column in the newspaper, which was about marriage, and if you read it you can see that there's hardly anything controversial in it at all, unless maybe you don't believe in going to the movies or watching The Bachelorette or something. Anyway, methinks the lady doth protest too much and must secretly love me. I can't really tell if it was written by a male or female. Anyway, I really do feel like a celebrity now. Thanks, Mr./Miss Hater. I could send you an autograph, if you'd like. :)