High Heels and low I.Q. points

Wow, it sure is nice to be home - thanks for all your helpful hints, everyone! Well from the
accordian players to the Grand Canal shops (this is what it looks like at midnight or 2 am, people...way to seriously mess with your circadian rhythms!) to the fine dining, we had a blast!




Some highlights of our trip included:

• Eating an amazing breakfast here at Bouchon (sister resturant to Napa's famous French Laundry)
• Seeing this show!
• The incredible, amazing generousity of The Cupertino Clan. You know who you are - it was amazing and "thank you' doesn't seem to quite cover it.
  
• GrrwrrOOOOWWLLL!
  
• Strolling through Luxors' lobby in The Vegas Shoes. Which ones, you ask?
  
• 
• These here in the foreground are The Vegas shoes. The heel is five inches tall and pencil-thin. I have been saving The Vegas shoes for Vegas since about four years ago. Yes, that is gold chain as "shoe" material. Remainder of the outfit was skirt/tube top/lace short 'sweater' and bronzer. It might have been 30 degrees outside. Maybe. Probably not, though. As I said, it wasn't me who wanted to go out....it was the Vegas Shoes who wanted to go out.
  
• Realizing that there were icesicles on this fountain. Frickin' icecicles.
  
• Spending some casual fun time with The Fam., laughing at/with them.
• Taking an indoor "hot tub" in the bathtub in our room
• Great cheap eats, if you know where to find 'em!
  
• Hard Rock cafe!
  
• Finally having a place to wear my rhinestone belt (as a necklace, to the Hard Rock)
• Pan au chocolat from the Bouchon bakery.
• Excellent security at the Venetian - they check for your key every time you come into the elevators.

Less-than-highpoints:

• Finding out the reason for the excelent security at the Venetian - apparently the staff, 'has a hard time telling the guests from the hookers." Message to Americans: Slutty is not the new black. I do not want to see you do your best Britney Spears imitation.
  
• Finding out that the adult video awards ceremony was held at the Venetian...the night we got there. Ummmm yep, go ahead and don't think to hard on this one.
• Frickin' icecicles, all pools located outside, inability to wear cute outfits without freezing ones' areas off.
• The near-torture that was the knowledge that the season premiere of 24 was on.....not watching...not watching.
  

In Search of

Slightly embarassing truths that will surely come back to haunt me, part the....some...dredth.

1. My deep and unabiding love for Indian/"Bollywood" films knows no bounds. What's not to love about ending every. single. movie. with a mass dance sequence? Also: The Indian culture has an appreciation for curvy women that I can only wish Hollywood would embrace.
   
2. Today, Edie has repeatedly been in "Time-Out" (read: locked in one of the cat carriers) for hissing and growling and generally being mean to Fynn.
   
3. I'd far rather hang out with Jack Black thank Jude Law.
4. Failed to see the point of applying pants thus far today, ate Pop-Tarts for breakfast.
   
5. With regard to Item #2 - Due to said growling/hissing/Fru-its of E-vile noises, I put Edie atop our closet. Approximately three hours ago. She just now jumped down to the couch. Despite being fixed, I swear she still gets the kitty version of P.M.S., the little beetcha.
6. Due to the fact that my teeth have now started to hurt after I drink champers, I am in somewhat desperate search for the accurate recipe for a Suffering Bastard. Heaven forbid I give up drinking altogether, right? You see, there are so many different recipes - starting with this one:
   

   1 1/2 oz rum
   1 oz overproof rum
   3/4 oz Orange Curacao liqueur
   1/2 oz orgeat syrup
   1 oz fresh lime juice
   2 oz fresh orange juice
   And also this one:

OR: 1 part gin,
1 part rum,
1/2 part lime juice,
dash of bitters,
1 part ginger ale,
all served over ice

The one (ok, ok, two) I had at Trader Vic's a couple of weekends ago were garnished with a cucumber spear, mint and half a lime. Apparently, I'm not the only one in search of the true recipe for this tasty libation. Your help in this matter would be truly and deeply appreciated - I'm planning on figuring out how to feed it to Edie the next time she acts up.

Now and Then

A year ago.....

-I'd been reading blogs, and occasionally commenting for about a year.
-I had some absurd vision of somehow writing....get this...for actual cash dollars. Someday.
-It was pouring rain.
-Wedding season was well over, and had slowed down to a bit of a frightening crawl for me.
-My neice was a six month old roly-poly baby. (She's currently cruising around 'her' house, laughing, 'talking' and playing clapping games with us.
-I thought I'd be much, much better at writing if I did it on a regular basis. (I was wrong)
-My bathroom was in a state of dissaray (now worse).
-My yard was torn up (ahem. Still)
-I had two cats, one of which has since passed.
-My husband irritated me (and I him, I'm sure) much more than he does now. We spend much more time together these days....the opposite of what most couples say.
-Three people that we knew were alive have died.
-I was seriously considering inflicting some kind of bodily harm on the next person who asked me The Question. (Hasn't really changed)
-I had no idea how time consuming blogging could be.
-I had now idea how rewarding and heart-warming (even though I haaate that phrase with the fire of a thousand burning suns) it could be.

Thanks for a great year, everyone!

Make it a December to remember

Surprise! A List!

Things I am Looking Forward To Next Month:

• The proliferation of hysterically tacky Christmas paraphernalia, mocking it.
  
• November, and thus the dread of my birthday, being over.
  
• Oscar-worthy films coming out - just in time for sweeps.
• Only a month till our annual Death March!
• Everyone doing crazy year-end lists.
  
• Having the small satisfaction of (slightly) beaten them to it.
  
• Peppermint stick ice cream.
• "Snow" piled on State Street (trucked in from the mountains/produced)
• A tiny bit of rain, having a rainy day at some cozy nook with Scott.
• Purchasing a new knit hat and scarf.
• Boots.
• Needle corduroy.
  
• Thanking goodness we don't celebrate Christmas and have all the craziness that can go with it.
• Post-holiday sales.
• Turkey on sale. Mmmmm turrrkeeeey.
• Satisfaction of being d.o.n.e. with NaBloPoMo.

Love n' Hate

Eight minute blog...

Love: New Yoplait Whips (although the apostrophe IS a bit much) in Chocolate Mousse and Choc. Mint Flavors

Hate: How late it seems with daylight savings time.

Love: Edie's new trick ("Sit"0

Hate: My new need for Synthroid.

Love: Gray's Anatomy

Hate: I think Lost may have jumped the shark.

Love: My husbands' new haircut.

Hate: How early I have to get up tomorrow, my email not working.

Finis.

Quickie

Disneyland = Better with just two people. Better without the crowds, the lines, the heat, the long drive.

Construction outside my house: Still going. Will take pictures soon.

Hair: Serious re-growth (read: roooooots!) action, color still good. I'm taking a poll, should I do two-tone deep red(s) or red and walnut-y dark next time?

Cats: Really happy to see us.

Dinner at Blue Bayou: Good, but you're definitely paying for ambiance.

Weather: Wonderful early winter Santa Ana winds (warm wind, dry heat) blowing in. Highly unusual for this time of year.

Blog Ideas: Few. Here's another poll- What would you like to see more of: Videos? Hand-crafted nonsense? Stories? Bad poetry? I'm planning to do a little 'interview" with Bella and/or Chad as soon as I can, but we'll see about that.

Super 8 nearby Disneyland: Clean enough rooms, but the "hot" tub was STONE. FLIPPING. COLD. Not cool.

Would love your answers in comments...byeee!

Customized Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen of My Favorite Things about Santa Barbara in the Fall:

1. Fewer tourists - Of course, you're all welcome here, but its nice when we locals get to get out and around a bit more without a bunch of people complaining about the one-way streets, asking why the eateries are so small, and (worst of all) saying, "So, you're basically like L.A.?" No. Emphatically NO.
2. Avocado Festival. What's not to love about cheerleaders and a vat of gaucamole?
3. Delightfully brisk evening walks. Christie and I did an 'all-uphill' walk the other night.
4. School back in session, full swing. It cuts down on the number of insane partiers in the down-town region. Notice I said "cuts down", not 'eliminates".
5. Earlier darkness = I'm pleasantly surprised when it seems like midnight and is only ten.
6. Wedding season winding down - a bit of a breather for us. May I stress a BIT, and only in November, if that.
7. Trader Joes' Triple Ginger Snaps - Made with fresh, ground and crystallized ginger.
8. I really appreciate the trees we have that do turn colors. Yes, we do have them.
9. The sky turning a darker blue, crisp outlines of the Channel Islands in the distance.
10. Excuse to eat clam chowder with a sourdough bowl at Brophy's.
11. I can wear my "black sheep": Eight feet of ultra-soft, black chunky-knit lambs' wool that is sooo soft, and so very warm. Scott bought it for me, and while I shrink from even touching it in the summer, I'm looking forward to it being "cold*" enough to wear it (with a tank top and sandals or a cute dress, of course) now. *Cold = 55 degrees Farenheight
12. The light during the time between two and five pm is pure amber.
13. Other people's fireplaces, nostalgia semi-acceptable.

The Answers

First can I say this? I love, love, love Trader Joe's black taper candles. They illuminate without drawing any attention to themselves at all. Next, I have devised a set of the Answers that I would like to have printed up on pretty, pretty paper with a cool font and borders...possibly by Joy? They should be small and tear off, about like a raffle ticket. I'd like a roll of them to carry around with me at all times. Here they are, in no particular order:

-Congratulations! You are 10, 57_th person to meddle in my personal life! See bottom for prize details.
-No Womb in Here. (Or: Not Just an Empty Womb)
-Child-Free, not Child-less.
-Maybe you can suggest how exactly we should be doing it for "optimal results".
-Accepting contributions for adoption fees. Visa or MasterCard?
-Because my heart is made of coal.
-Just as soon as you reverse your cranio-rectal inversion.
-Far too depressed over missing the deadline for bearing the 300 millionth American
-As soon as you can explain to me how exactly that is your concern.
-Far to Selfish. (Totally O.k. with that.)
-When I figure it out, you'll be the 47th one to know.
-Fertile with Ideas.
-Haven't got our parenting license in the mail yet.
-My Hips Do Lie.
-Because I broke my egg-baby in seventh grade.

Your snarky additions welcome.

If it wouldn't all come back and bite me in the @$$...

Things I'd Write About for NaBloPoMo if I didn't know better:

• The simply annoying wedding fantasies I have for my sisters - and my well-founded concerns that they will not come true. That would actually make for two posts, and your eyes would likely fall out of their sockets with the boring.
  
• My shame in realizing that an 'old' friend has become a former friend, not due to any lack of effort on my part, but because our lives are so different that a chasm of silence the size of Waimea Valley now stands between us, thinly bridged only by a string of shared memories.
  
• Absurd ins and outs of a recent conversation I had; how utterly frustrated, helpless, etc it made me feel. (Pertains, in part, to this bit of bat-**** insanity:
  
• How conflicted I feel about being a cog in the giant machine that is the "Wedding Industry" - a multi-million (billion?) dollar industry that wraps thousands of absurd 'extras' in pretty packaging and sells them as "Must-Haves" to hapless individuals who simply do not know any better.
  
• How scared I am of Jim Carey's plastic-y face, chicklet teeth and enormous chin.
  
• The nagging worry at the back of my head about...actually, I totally canNOT write about that, in case it ACTUALLY COMES/IS TRUE. Paranoia IS my middle name. Suffice it to say I'm a tad bit freaked out about their intense interest in my tenants' apartment.
• Various Family Matters of a completely un-bloggable nature. Well...duuuuh.
  

I'm guessing Martha Stewart would call these a "Bad Thing" for a dinner party

The Good Part of my weekend, via the magic of a list.

How to have a lovely dinner party, in Sixteen Simple Steps:

1. Infuse two bottles of vodka with fresh ginger, rosemary for a week. Mmmmm
2. Purchase gorgeous (cream brocade= tablecloth), (chocolate brown velvet = runner, other items), (champagne satin = napkins) and other fabrics at a couple of discount stores.
3. Set the table with the good silver and china, lavendar tucked in the napkins, magenta dahlias floating in a pretty dish.
4. Make ginger and nectarine/grapefruit simple syrups, cool in the freezer and store in pretty labeled bottles.
5. Purchase champagne, salad and split-pea soup makings and dessert bites at Trader Joe's, quiches at Costco.
6. Spend far, far to long doing the following: Making oversized namecards for you and eight of your friends (attached with velvet to chairs, natch), perfecting your Rosemary Lemon Drop/Ginger Nip mixology (sampling results), teaching your friend to how to do a pocket fold* with a napkin.
7. Add a heavy dose of candles (different kinds on every surface). Bonus points for not showing any irritation/comforting child when your friends' kid smashes the hell out of a candle/container on an outside stairway. Drink champagne to self-soothe when friends' husband shows you the enormous tarantula he caught at work. The one he was keeping in the bathroom in an open topped five-gallon bucket with live crickets.... until an hour prior to the party, without your knowledge. Where you dried your hair and applied your makeup.
8. Re-style bathroom, furniture, pictures, etc everywhere that shows to good advantage. Drink champagne to cool down.
9. Take seven minute shower, rub makeup and eyeliner on, apply Little Black Dress and heels, 'brush' hair. Sample martini.
10. Quickly pan-sear garlic, large shrimp (stuffed with red peppers and herbed goat cheese) and wrap in proscuitto. Sip martini, mix drinks for guests. Glance outside nervously in the direction of G.T.
11. Greet guests, offer excellent appetizers, ply them with drinks (sip yours), accept accolades on appearance of house. Note that enormous tarantula is being handled by a six year old. Scan for ice packs, spider bite kit.
12. Be married to/friends with someone who plays guitar quite well. Make sure they bring their amp. and new 'dj light', as well as iPod Nano/speaker-things. (This is key, of course. Without this ingredient, you may as well bring out the board games.)
13. Serve soup (homemade), accept lavish praise. Same with salad (candied pecans, onions, green apple, baby herbs *NOT SPINACH!!* Stilton, dried cherries) and quiche (Costco special). Sip martini. Tell witty wedding-related anecdote.
14. Retire to living room with your drink and friends, be entertained by singing/playing of Entertainment d' Nuit. Notice that male guests are quite enraptured with Giant Tarantula, go outside to see what the fuss is about. Timidly stroke G.T., suppress a shudder.
15. Make Entertainment Person continue to play songs on guitar and 'DJ" for you, sip drinks, dance with friends, serve dessert. Completely block Giant Taruantula from your mind.
16. Oh, yeah, here's the other key tip: Have said Dinner Party at your friends' house. Success is yours.

How to do a Pocket Fold: (I realize you have like, totally known that since, like, second graaade, duuhhhhhhh! but figured, just in case there was one of you out there....well, here you go.)

• Start with a square-ish napkin spread out flat.
• Fold top about four inches down (A to B)
  
• Fold bottom up (C to D) so there is a generous edge that laps over the outside edge that came from the top (A)
  
• Fold "D" edge (bottom that came up) over/down about an inch. Repeat. You should now be looking at two approximately equal-sized folded 'flaps' with a little inch-wide strip going across the middle of them. There should not be any top/bottom edges showing.
  
• Holding the 'middle roll' firmly so it doesn't unfold, flip the entire thing over, fold it in thirds.
  
• You should now be able to slip a flower/silverware/Small Tarantula into your 'pocket'. Now go practice. The first one's always sloppy.
  

Wrong Side of the Bed

Ways and Places that are Generally Bad to Wake Up:

• In the midst of a natural disaster (typhoon, flood, stampede of rabid wildabeest)*
  
• With a bat, rodent or other undesirable animal tangled in your hair
• On the wrong bus/in the wrong country
  
• Far too early or late* (many times)
• With a sudden fright due to the loud ringing of your phone in your ear at an ungodly hour, because you assume that any time it rings that early, someone is maimed/dead.*
  
• To the dulcet tones of a backhoe in dire need of oil, just outside your window*(this a.m.)
• The roof.
  
• With a fresh whiff of cat dingleberries near your face, whereopon you leap out of bed, strip the sheets off, only to discover said dingleberries stuck to felines' behind as it ran through the house.*
  
• To the sickening realization that you chose.....poorly.
• Smelling smoke and ash from the inferno that burns nearby your house.*
• Brass band seranade
  
• With a tree in your driveway.*
• Eye-to-eye with the beast that tormented your childhood dreams.
• In a sinking ship.
• North Dakota, wintertime.
• In a parallel universe.
  
• Next to Tom Cruise without your special "vitamins".
  
• With a hot-coffee wet willy*
• With a head full of lists.*

Those marked with an asterisk = Have happened to me.

I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning

Or, more correctly, the cloying bouquet of the "naturally clove-scented" wasp killing spray that now lingers in the air every time I step out my back door. We've all got our battles to fight, I suppose - Desiree's got a war on cheese sticks, Dubya's got his "war on terror" and the brave Heather and Jessica keep up their war on bad taste, thank goodness. Every summer we go through the same song and dance - I see a few big wasps hovering around our outer eaves, go into rabid freak-out mode, and we knock down a few small nests.

This year, it got personal - the little beasties decided to move in and invite all their friends. In the last three days, we've* had to spray the hell out of no fewer than ten nests. The smallest one was as big as the palm of my hand (read: home to probably thirty-plus wasps), none of which bodes well for our future. I'm comtemplating putting a big sign up somewhere outside warning anyone allergic to stings to "Run Away Now! Wasps are Attempting to Commandeer This House!", but haven't been able to locate one yet.

*The expression "we've" here means: Scott, because I am far too afraid of both getting stung and accidentally spraying myself in the face with bug spray, thereby causing my eyeballs and face to do this: Which would be a bad look for me, don't you agree?

Fortunately, we came up with a really effective solution to this plaugue; I call it the "Tag Team Tennis Racket" method (Trademark pending). First, we attire ourselves correctly (put on shoes) and creep slowly out the kitchen door, armed with bug spray. Next, we hover in the entryway, behind the door, nervously timing when I'll throw the door open and push him out the steps. Third, he reminds me to be "ready to open that door," as though I'm going to leave him outside at the mercy of a horde of angry, dying insects and watch him be stung, all the while rubbing my hands in evil delight. Fourth, I fling the door open, he leaps out the door like he's going for a tackle, shoots a stream of poison at them and is back behind the outer door looking through the window before I know what happened. Fifth, we cower and watch the bodies of our enemy drop from their nests and die, die, die! for their rash and imprudent choice of home location.

As a final preventative measure, he prowls our grounds with a tennis racket, swatting down the survivors with all the rage of Venus Williams with PMS. 'Tis a wonder to behold, let me tell you. Originally, we thought we'd vanquished them with a few squirts at the first two nests we found - but they kept buzzzing around our doorway, taunting us, making me scared to go and get the laundry. I found three new nests yesterday and he found about five more round the back of the house today. I came outside and found him lightly coated in sweat and atomized agent Orange for bugs, swinging his tennis racket and leaping around our driveway like a sprite. I'm fairly confident that for now, we're winning the war...but please remember to bring your Epi-Pens to the house if you stop by.
_______________________________________________________
And now a list, wholly and totally unrelated to the above topic, to satisfy the fierce list-making mania that preys on me day by day. Background on this list: While we were in a meeting the other night, I asked him what he wanted for dinner - he responded with the ever-popular, "What do you want to make?" I thought about that for a minute and wrote down the following.

Things I Would Rather Make Than Dinner (Please Note that Number 7 is a Joke)

1. Fun*
2. A mess
3. A rule that no one can call before 9 am, ever.
4. The cats pick up their own poo.
5. Noise.
6. A cake.
7. A baby, so people will finally stop asking me when, whennn, wheeeennnnn I'm going to have one, already.

*Use your imagination.

Bullet (points) in the Blue Sky

In the last few days, I've discovered a few things:

-A newfound skill at making proper picnics. I picnic, you could say. In the park, with wine, champagne and proper glasses, a variety of cheeses and crackers, macadamia nuts, hummus, chocolates, delicately quartered clementines, strawberries and many other things, like pretty napkins, lime juice and paper cups for the kids, and of course a citronella candle and a guitar player. Last Sundays' edition went far, far into the night and was rife with half-sung versions of Velvet Underground, Oasis, U2, Echo and the Bunnymen, and Weezer songs. The kids (Bella and Chad) were asking us if it 'was hometime now?' I believe we now have a new Sunday tradition...and I have a feeling it better be followed by a new Monday tradition: The half-marathon and a side serving of Ephedra.

-I've got a new and frightening paradox: The medication I'm taking (again) for my thyroid and its' stubborn, Southern California Edison-like attitude of "noo... I will not help you...I...will instead cause you to weigh three hundred pounds, you hideous creature" attitude is making my mouth taste of salt at all times. Consequently, I'm doing my best not to give into my craving for...something sweet in my mouth at all times. So the equation is thus: Body rebels and makes me want to be fat. Medicine treats bodies' imbalance, but causes mouth to irrationally crave sweets, thus making me .... fat. So its a bit of a Catch-22 situation, I'm trying my best to resist.

-I've finally grown into Elliot - I'm reading Middlemarch right now and am very much enjoying it, despite my distaste for the ladies' priggish tendencies thus far. Did I ever mention how much I love to read? That I'm usually immersed in two or five books at a time? That the items I brought most of when I moved in were...books?

-My new love for Dove cucumber-green tea solid deodorant knoweth no bounds. It absolutely does not leave white marks. Seeing as I wear black nine days out of ten and have actually turned my shirts inside out to test their claims, I am one satisfied customer.

-A way to instantly sap any urge to write/kill any good peices you might have had in mind: Proclaim loudly, and with hubris, that you are going to Write About Something Important for the next ten posts. Follow up with a random list of things including deodorant, English literature and picnic baskets.

Countdown

I just realized that I have ten, well, nine, counting this entry...more entries to go until I hit 200. I'd really like to make them meaningful, or at least interesting and witty - so I'm trying to choose some really great topics. Heaven forbid I peak too soon what with the cat and falling-out-of-the-car stories, right?

As it happens, I'm also in the midst of some fairly involved events, ('tis the season, you know) which are conspiring to suck a lot of the creative energy right out of me. Being self-employed is funny that way, I find - I work a lot harder and for longer hours for myself and my clients than I did for any of my former employers. Note to former employers (and ye who read at The Office, especially): I'm not saying that I didn't put my full efforts into all the jobs I ever did, no not at all. What I find is this: When you add passion and intense creative deadlines to a job, the results are always going to be better than just plain old hard work.

I'm also having a few technical issues (Blogger? Firefox? Safari? WTH, man?) of late - I find that I can't see comments in Safari, I can't see my new posts in Firefox, and I have no idea why. To this order, I'm stealing a page out of Molly's (Molly from Les Cadeaux) book and posting questions for you. Fire away in comments, ok?

-What age did you most love/hate, and why?
-Did you have a good time in high school?
-What was your first job?
-What has been (or is) your favorite job?
-Why did you start blogging, and what could (potentially) cause you to quit? (No fair using the word "dooced")
-What should I change about this blog (please keep in mind I'm sooooo not HTML savvy)
-How do you like your marshmellows cooked?

Here are my answers:

-I really loved being 17-19 - I was out of school, working enough to (almost) stay out of trouble, but still had plenty of time for fun, and weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of 115 pounds. I hated ages 12 and 23, for very different reasons - 12 because I was perpetually grounded, in a school system that did NOT work for me, and had a fairly humiliating wardrobe...but seriously, who loooved Jr. High, huh?

-Had a lovely time, for the most part, in high school. I wouldn't say I 'maximized my educational potential', but I got on well with almost everyone, made some great friends, and figured out very early that high school was... just high school, and I should hurry up and do something interesting already.

-First job (that I had to go to more than twice a week): Office help and shop assistant at an opticians' office. I loved my boss and the lady that worked for him, and would have stayed longer but for his overly charitable habits. The man gives away almost everything, is generous to a fault - he doesn't even own a car and he actually lived in the back of the shop. I hope someday some of the many kids he's fostered comes round with a million (or two, or three) dollars and plunks it down in front of him. He'd probably donate it and go right on with what he's doing.

-Favorite job: Mine! Least favorite boss: Me (slave-driving perfectionist)

-I started blogging for two reasons: It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I wanted a way to keep in touch with my family - a laughable reason when you consider many of them can barely turn a computer on. I think I'd quit if I lost a reason to write, or it stopped being fun.

-Can't answer this one, sure you can.

-Love marshmellows dark golden brown, pull off 'skin', cook slimy outer layer, repeat until down to sticky nub. With chocolate and grahams over a bonfire, please.

Hungry for Trouble

Items Edie has Attempted to Ingest in the Past Twenty-Four Hours, in bullet points for your viewing pleasure:

• Rubber band, large
• Dime (retrieved out of Scotts' change bag with the deft use of paws)
• Piece of curly gift-wrapping string
• Nickel (see above)
• Band-Aid wrapper, retrieved from trash
• Fluffy, feathery cat toy
• Bit of....special paper (clean, people, clean)
  
• Phone charger cord
• Her brothers' ear, nose and throat
• My hair
• Corner bit of my hallway carpet
• All of her food, all of her brothers' food that he did not actually hover over and eat in quick, furtive gulps. Keep in mind that he outweighs her by probably four pounds (two-thirds her weight)
• Oh, yeah...and she attempted a guitar string as well.
  

Can someone please tell me how in the world this animal only weighs six pounds? No, she does not have a tapeworm.

In Honor of 25 Peeps...

25 Things About Me (Because One Hundred would take far too long)

1. I was born at home to parents who swear they weren't hippies. Riiiiiight.
2. I don't eat beef (or pork), not for any altruistic reason, but because I realized at about ten, that every time we had a barbeque, I'd get a horribly sore stomach.
3. Even though my job is all about being organized, and I'm good at it, I'm a bit of a disaster at home.
4. When I was a little girl, I used to say that I wanted a "little, yellow house with glass doorknobs." My husband and I own a little California cottage built in 1933, and while things about it drive me crazy (ie closets the size of Post-It notes, one tiny bathroom with no vent) I love the following: I just happened to pick yellow paint for the inside, and it has the original glass doorknobs, hardwood floors and built-in bar. Coincidence? I think so.
5. I have never got around to getting my drivers' license. This is far less of a problem than you'd think.
6. I firmly believe, not in karma, but what goes around comes around. I'm still waiting for some things to come around in my direction.
7. I don't like to cook. At all. (I still do, but I'm just sayin' ... no likee) I wish I did.
8. I have a lot of ideas for my yard, but currently am a little short of the fundage to do so.
9. I have two Black Thumbs (other people have Green Thumbs, mine are both black.)
10. I am deeply offended by racial epithets, and would probably find myself in a mess of trouble if I were ever to venture south of the Mason-Dixon line.
11. I only dated my husband for three weeks, we were married two months after he proposed.
12. I really, really loved our wedding, but I'd never let any of my clients have one like it.
13. I used to read the dictionary when I was little. Not surprisingly, my friend who remembers this still teases me mercilessly about it.
14. I really, truly, deeply do not understand the reality tv craze.
15. I live only fifteen miles from the house I was born in, and I never want to move.
16. I do, however, really love to travel.
17. I've been to England, Costa Rica (twice, actually!), Hawaii, Finland, Denmark, Australia and New York ... but am far from quenching my wanderlust.
18. I used to play beach volleyball quite well, despite being far too short, at five foot four, for the sport.
19. I was probably good at volleyball because my arms are freakishly long - normally your 'wingspan' is your height, but my arms measure out at five feet, seven inches. This makes long sleeves a bit of a problem for me.
20. It would make me really, really happy if people would grow a clue and stop asking me when "I'm gonna have a baaayyyyybeeee!", as if I am the sole decision-maker about our reproductive life.
21. I hate anything pickled, with vinegar, mayo, eggs and salmon. Please do not make me try them.
22. My favorite foods are either Indian or Thai - basically anything heavy on the garlic.
23. I haven't had short hair since I was one.
24. I love the beach beyond all reason, and will find any excuse to go.
25. I'm a confirmed skinny-dipper. It's genetic - after all, what do you expect of the offspring of two people named, "The Naked Hippies"?

Seven Times the Fun

First, a cautionary note: This is an official Schmoopie Alert. Now, onward.

I am so happy my husband is home - he's been gone since Saturday, and I swear, it seems like these last three days have just... dragged. This fact seems a bit odd, since I've been really busy with new (potential) clients and had all kinds of other things to do. Like what?

• Late evening picnic with Christy and her family. Stilton with apricots, fresh mangos and strawberries, a bottle of wine and thou, my friends. I told them this story, they loved it.
  
• Making up funny walks, a la the Ministry of Silly Walks with the kids on the way home from the picnic.
  
• Rum and lime cocktails, watching a newbie go on The Swing
• Watched a Glorious stand-up on BBC America (that reference especially for Desiree, so that she knows that I don't take her dislike of Steinbeck personally :-)
  
• Worked for my old office - (read: IM'd my sister for an hour or two, chatted with my ex-boss, old co-workers and clients)
  
• Tried to keep the cats from sharpening their claws on my new coral/pink/orange dust ruffle (mostly successful).
• Tried to sleep alone - by "alone", I mean "with two semi-nocturnal cats" - this was mostly unsuccessful, so I am taaaared now.
  
• Sent slightly saucy picture messages to Mr. Mooshi (don't you just love technology?)
  
• Became "auntie" to a darling new "nephew" my sister, the Crazy Cat Lady got her new, biteable puppy. His "papered name" is Johnny Cash Sings the Blues - and he's called Cash for day-to-day times. What a cutie! His little mug currently adorns my cell phone screen - there will be pictures soon, I'm told.
  
• Got back on the meds for my thyroid....sigh.
  
• Avoiding Fiesta - this year, I just didn't get in the spirit.
  

As a side note: Please stop by Chiada's place and wish her Happy Seventh Anniversary - its been quite a ride, my friends, quite a ride. I'm so happy for you two - So here's my story of what I was doing seven years ago today: I'd worked the wedding (flowers, keeping the day running smoothly, fetched refreshments for the fainting bridesmaid, etc) all day, and I was both tired and wired. Clad in a black dress that I'd embroidered up and down the leg slit with tiny white flowers, garden bugs and a beaded hummingbird, I was ready for almost anything. Note: I still have it, and may go and try it on, just for fun.

Since my boyfriend at the time was out of town, I turned to one of my buddies and said, "Wanna go out?" Shortly thereafter, I was hanging out in what is now our rental studio with Scott and another friend and a nice, strong screwdriver. (Note: Yeah, I know- trust me, after the amount of work I did and stress that had coursed through my body, it was in order. To this day, I still come home from weddings and require a drink.) Later we strolled around downtown in the middle of Fiesta with a few thousand other people and a bottle of Patron silver (shhh! don't read that if you're related to me!) and had a lovely dinner at The Palace.

In retrospect: We had no idea that we'd be married to each other less than a year later, but a friend did comment to Scott (unbeknownst to me) "Dude, that girl is going to be your wife someday." Good one, Al... I'm so glad you were right, even though you were probably just joking. Welcome home, dear. We've missed you.

Going Ape

The other morning, I awoke at six in the morning, eyes-wide-open, no-sleeping-now awake. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and let my mind wander as it would. Naturally, it seized, hawk-like onto a phrase and stuck there. The phrase? "Going Dutch"

Why Dutch? Are the Dutch so liberal-minded that they split everything down the middle? I was thinking about this, and made up a list of what "Going ______" (a bunch of different countries) would be. Here goes:

Going Australian: Six pints of Victoria Bitters and a game of pool.
Going Belgian - A stack of waffles, a box of chocolate, and you.
Going Costa Rican - Walk through the jungle and two shots of guarro.
Going Egyptian - Visit your local mosque, sign an engagement contract.
Going Greek - Stuffed grape leaves, ouzo and both of your families.
Going Hawaiian - Hit the beach, do the huki-lau.
Going Italian - Bring your friends, eat some pasta. Or polenta. Or pesce.
Going Japanese - Everything done using advanced electronics.
Going Mexican - Listen to some mariachis, drink tequila.
Going Norweigan - Hike up a mountain, hike back down. Repeat.
Going Peruvian - Wear a cool hat, ride a llama.
Going Russian - Drink vodka. Drink more vodka. Dance. Drink vodka.
Going South African - Swim with sharks, drink wine.
Going Thai - Get a massage, eat a curry.

Of Love and Bedclothes

You know, sometimes you feel like a nut...sometimes...you don't! What I mean by that: This post is going to be a bit of a mish-mash, mmmkay?

First of all, I'd like to post another GIANT SHOUT-OUT of DELIGHT and CONGRATULATIONS to Karen over at the Naked Ovary; she's going to be heading off to China to pick up her daughter, Maya, at the beginning of September. I couldn't be any more excited for someone if I knew them in real life, honestly. Please go over and give her your congratulations, she deserves them.

Secondly; I'd like to give a huuuuge round of applause and "You can dooo eeeeeet!" out to my girl Chiada. Her blog, although it details some of the many things she does, doesn't do justice to two vital facts: One, the girl works soooo hard - she just goes, goes, goes. No wonder she's tired! Two: She is such a sweet, fun, lovely person, she deserves everything she has and so much more. Do you know what she's doing right now, on top of two jobs, two dogs, and being a far, far more neat and organized human than I will ever be? She's studying for her Real Estate test.

There are also a few Things Afoot around Casa de Meepers that I won't be blogging about, likely, but suffice it to say that Life is Complicated right now. Sorry for being such a tease, but some things are sacred, you know?

I'm going back to the doctor today (I know, how fuuun!) - he wanted to "see you about your bloodwork, for your thyroid", so that should be loads of fun. My little (middle) sister, the one who looks like Uma Thurman but with a better butt, called me this morning to give me a chiropracter that uses the same method as her boss, hopefully he'll be of some help sometime soon. She gets her puppy on Saturday, the little booger looks so. de.li.cious.ly. cute I can barely stand it. Look at his little rounded head and nose and those blue, blue eyes! I can almost smell the puppy breath. She's trying to think what to call him, so anyone with any suggestions, please chime in and drop her a comment.

Yesterday was the first day in over two weeks that I left the house for anything other than to go to the doctor or to my old office. I cannot adequately explain my pure, unadulterated joy at the following things:

• Doing all of our laundry at the same time. Yes, it's nice that we have our little mini washer and dryer at home, but I looove the laundromat, those lovely triple-loaders and the big, fluffy dryers. The smells of bleach and detergent and talking with Pepe, the owner about everything from politics to infertility. Did you know all the Mexican presidents except Vincente Fox have been Masons? Pepe claims that Dubya and some of the other big Masons have some kind of disgusting annual blood-drinking ritual... I don't know if that's literally true, but think of the blood that's been shed in the name of oil and 'freedom'. Ugh. Regarding the infertility bit: Pepe and his wife tried for ten years and spent somewhere in the range of sixty thousand dollars, and almost split up before they had their daughter, Jasmine (now almost ten). Nowadays, they radiate the kind of contentment that truly happy families bask in, sitting in their simple laundromat together, snacking on pulled pork, Mexican 'pan' (bread) and 'crema', chatting with their regulars.
  
• Watching light filter through Edie's tiny, transluscent tummy - since her recent operation, she's got that funny shaved underbelly. At only six and a half pounds and with her pinky-white skin, she's a tiny specimen of cathood, despite her monster appetite. Fortunately, she makes up in personality what she lacks in size.
• The joy that comes from a new bed set - Check this out, shoppers (skip, everyone else)... I got the following for just over a hundred bucks: -Tangerine sherbert colored bedspread, bright pink pillow cases and flat sheet, fitted sheet with matching bright pink/pale pink/china blue/crimson/white in a funky striped pattern, (all from Tommy Hilfiger) and a killer satin-y bedskirt in a great pinky-orange sharkskin - that last piece was $3.99. Plus a nice heavy woven-rush laundry hamper with velcro in/out liner and two compartments, and (yes, there's an and) two beautiful matching oval baskets that came with it. My love for shopping at Ross? Knows no bounds. Our bedroom? Can now only be looked at in indirect light, or with sunglasses. There may be pictures, so you can share in the fun of having your eyes bleed with me.
  
• Having a beer with lunch (this would be my first drink of any kind for over two weeks, so a little exciting, no?). Having an appetite, however small, for lunch. Having a buy-one, get-one gift card for La Salsa come in the mail unexpectedly. Having time to eat lunch with my husband and chat about absolutely nothing.
• Sharing a bottle of champagne (see above re: no drinks for two weeks plus..) with my girl Christy and taking a lovely long nighttime walk together, our first in weeks. We may not have burned the caloric value of what we drank with the walking, but surely the laughter was good for us.
• Having an idea for a new video that may be funny, if somewhat random, at six-thirty am today; not acting on it yet, but letting it develop in my head.
  
• Yet another lovely luncheon with my husband at the Pascucci's in Goleta; being pleasantly surprised that their cute decor and, most importantly, food quality, didn't go down with their expansion. Discovering that one of our boys at The Cutest and Most Helpful Post Office ever stumbled over here to Chock Late; my husbands' mild chagrin/dismay over this fact.
  
• Meeting with the doctor (for the last time! yeeeeahhh!) and having him say, "Oh wow! You look so much better than the last time you were in here!". The fact that he spent more than six seconds speaking with, not at, me and also let me read my charts and went through the labs with me, actually explaining what all those numbers were? Heartening in view of modern medicine.
  

So... that's my little list of Things I am Thankful for .... what makes your list?

The Rules

Last weekend, when I was half out of my head with fever, the man who had the table just behind us spent quite some time telling me I needed to go immediately and read "The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands". I nodded, smiled, and murmured something to the effect of "Aahhh Haaa! I'll definitely look into that... isn't Dr. Laura? I used to come home from third grade and make my mother cry with laughter by making fun of her radio show.." He also informed me of the following: I do not, can not, and will never understand men, due to the facts of my family (no brothers), my job (mostly concerned with women) and my interests. He then proceeded to explain how his wife also didn't understand men, and that "thirty years later, she never will..." I just tried to back away from the crazy.

The other day, I talked about breaking the Eighth Commandment of Wifedom. I got to thinking about that, and wondered to myself, So...where are the rest of the Commandments? What are they? How many of them are there? Here's a rough draft of them, by me:

1. Thou shalt not do everything for thine husband, thereby making him into a large child and you into his mother, and causing much frustration all around.
   
2. Thou shalt not cease caring about thine general appearance, be it removing hair from anywhere it ought not be, getting some excercise or having a facial. However the reason thou shalt care about these things shall be because thou hast respect for oneself and desireth not to look like a bag lady.
   
3. Thou shalt not hint at what one would like done around the house, bedroom or other areas of life. Thou shalt ask directly, more than once if need be.
   
4. Thou shall save much of thine complaints about thine husband for the ear of a single, trusted friend, and not thy parents, thy in-laws, the internet (overmuch) or, heaven forbid, thy husband.
   
5. Thou shall have other interests, seperate friends, and activities, and bank accounts (at least savings) and thine own line of credit. Furthermore, thou shalt encourage thy husband to pursue his own interests, friends and activities, and thou shalt not complain when he wishes to go camping with his friends for a week. That way, the both of ye shall savor those activities which ye do together, and additionally he will not be able to complain when you want to go somewhere for a weekend with your girlfriends.
   
6. Thou shalt make the first move, more than once per annum. Thou shalt also make moves two through ...whatever if need be.
   
7. Thou shalt try to conquer thine own personal issues with fat, clutter, children, skinny-legged pants, substance abuse (cheeses, alcohol, fabric), and too many projects. However, failure at any of these maketh not a bad wife, so do not berate thine self overmuch.
   
8. Thou shalt not disturb the watching of a sporting television program, on penalty of much painful whinging, yea verily, that it may go well with ye and ye shall not have to hear complaining all night about how you do not taketh care of thine husband. Even tho' you haveth the DVR and he doth not misseth a second, you have broken this, the Eighth Commandment of Wifedom, and are therefore doomed to watch ESPN or SportCenter forever and ever, amen.
9. Thou shalt not crush his tender spirit by laughing overly loud when thine husband sings aloud, dances funny, or does strange impersonations. No, but thou shalt instead either applaud or join in. Additionally, thou shall help him to feel good about himself by any means neccessary, be it by coloring his hair, making him take a walk, annointing him with cologne or telling him how adorable he looketh in those clothes.
   
10. Moderation in moderation: Screaming into pillows is perfectly acceptable under the right circumstances, as is retail therapy, three-martini happy hours, and sudden changes in hair style. Under the right circumstances, of course. Taking a walk, of course, would have been wiser.

What say you? Add your rules, make suggestions, challenge me.