Coffee and Drivel, please...

July.

2009-07-04T13:36:00.002-05:00

Can it really be July 4th? It seems like the days flow out from under me too fast, regardless of my efforts to slow them down. In 26 days, Isaac will be nine. NINE!

I won't get too sentimental, but it is impossible to think that nine years could have passed in such a seemingly short time. If I logically untangle the years, I can see the vast ways that both he and I have changed... but the gloriously mixed up prism of memories has him playing Thomas Trains, ecstatically jumping in his johnny jump up in the kitchen doorway... coloring Transformers and playing his toy guitar.

Now, we discuss global warming and play Wii. He draws Phineas and Pherb and takes guitar lessons. Afternoons find him lazing about, reading voraciously... quite my son.

I am humbled and infinitely fortunate to have my children--but I will never again be unaware of the swift hand of time.

As the dust settles...

2009-01-01T20:04:00.002-05:00

...this new year comes on tennis shoed feet, the parade of boxes and bags and the motley mix of furniture and random stuff that used to be my home.

I am apprehensive, excited: ready? Yes. But taking deep breaths all the same.

The kids are a mix, as varied as my things. S. is of course ecstatic--ready for the new. I. is more reluctant, clinging to the only home he has ever known.

Tonight I sit amid... nothing and everything, the memories of the past beaten back to faint lurkers in my mind. Bits of tinsel litter the wood floor; endless stray legos lie amid the newspaper and forgotten piles.

How do you pack up an old life? In jumbled boxes, in bits and pieces. In bags and crates and baskets. The reconfiguration is the release, the renewal.

I am happy and sad and it is okay: the new year begins.

Almost Thanksgiving...really? And other musings...

2008-11-16T18:26:00.003-05:00

As I watched the kids playing with sharpened sticks and kicking up the multitude of leaves, I had one of those gripping thoughts: Another year has come and gone. Here are my babies, one with shaggy hair and a penchant for Harry Potter; the other a pipsqueak powerhouse, her singsong voice telling tales of mermaids and castles as she colors and draws.

Isaac asked me today: "Will I be sixteen when you're forty?"

Yes, baby. You will.

Tucking Sophia in on Friday night, I sang as I picked up toys--"Turn around, and you're two, turn around, and you're four... turn around, and you're a young girl, walking out of my door." That song gets me every time. I remember my own mother singing it, and the forlorn tone of it both captivated and puzzled me. Isn't the point of life to get older, grow wiser, move on? And yet, my mothering heart understands: how quickly pass the years.

Behold: PROMETHEA!

2008-10-30T17:56:00.005-05:00

Well. I did it. Or rather, my sister did it. I finally achieved Promethea, minus her caduceus. A goddess worthy time was had, if I do say so. My sister went golden as well, channeling her inner Artemis, minus the bow. We figure our glitter was enough to make up for our lack of weaponry.

To see the "real" incarnation of Promethea, check out Alan Moore's "Promethea," from America's Best Comics.

It's a Blanket! WITH SLEEVES!

2008-09-20T07:52:00.003-05:00

So, while, watching The Soup last night, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a blanket... but not just any blanket, my friends. Blankets themselves are troublesome; difficult. Using one might mean accidentally uncovering your feet or exposing an arm while you fumble with the remote. You might have to--gasp--get up off your cozy ass and walk to the kitchen for a snack.

But now you don't have to. Yep. That's right. And I can't say it any better than geekologie.

Here's the commerical:

AND YOU GET A PRESS AND OPEN BOOK LIGHT! Gee whiz, Betty, let's order today!

Of course, this is not a new level of laziness. I am always creeped out by the grown up "sleeper sacks."
Some have little cuffed feet, like the "Couch Sacks" from Fleece Corner. Nothing says sexy like the words "Couch" and "Sack" combined into one plaid fleece garment. Rrrrrrrr.

Hogwarts Happenings...

2008-08-03T14:40:00.003-05:00

10 kids, six boys sleeping over, and a roomful of popcorn kernels later, I's Harry Potter Party was officially a hit.

Granted, I feel like I've been hit by the Hogwarts Express, but then, motherhood involves martyrdom, eh?

Party highlights: Most of the kids came dressed up in robes or witch hats, which was adorable... we had a "Potions Class" that involved Exploding Potion, Swirling Prismatic Potion, and Bouncing Black Beetles Potion. (The first: vinegar, food color, and baking soda...the second, milk with food color and a drop of dish soap, and lastly, craisins and Sprite.) They LOVED it--and thank god we did the activities outside! It was a glorious, foamy, vinegar-y mess. My hands still smell like I dyed a vat of easter eggs.
The boys had a "Bertie Botts Challenge" that involved closing their eyes, chosing a bean from the bag, and eating it, sight unseen. One boy cried, it tasted so awful... and I have to say, having played a similar game with my first box of beans, Jelly Belly has accurately captured some truly horrific flavors... soap being foul and long lasting, much like the real thing... and vomit making one feel, well, like vomiting. Earthworm has a lingering, dry, dirt taste that is only masked by eating something equally intense, like grape jelly. Thank the gods for the jelly and tuti fruitti mixed in!

I. requested a golden snitch cake, so S. and I obliged. We also had "Mexican Muggle Meat" (our HP version of tacos) and "Pumpkin Juice" (orange Koolaid dipped out of a tureen whilst dry ice bubbled and fogged below).

Now, the aftermath:

streamers and stickiness and the filth that occurs when your house is filled with 7-9 year old boys. Lucky me!

SHOUT AT THE DEVIL

2008-07-06T21:20:00.003-05:00

Yep. I went to Crue Fest. And I am not ashamed to say it.

Yes. I got my picture taken with some shirtless tattooed drunk guy who reeked of sweat and cigarettes (so sexy) and who nearly tripped on me and my friend.

Yes, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. I think I'm still recovering.

Indie girl that I am, content to bob gently with the bass and nurse my imported beer, this was quite a new experience.

I sloshed american beer in a plastic cup and screamed along with the rest of the drunken, shirtless rednecks.

I kept my shirt on.

I have to admit, it was kind of a novelty to see fireworks and flames onstage... and I truly enjoyed their video screen accompaniment. When they played Same Old Situation, it was a medley of Bush, girl bush, and guns... images of war and explosions and oral sex. It was fairly political, which I didn't expect.

It was a very short set. I am used to the long encore, but they came back and played one song and they were done. D-O-N-E. I think Vince Neil was about to pass out from the sheer exertion of wearing those pants and trying to reach those notes, poor guy. Living a life of debauchery is hard on a fellow.

And, in case you're hankering for a little taste of the crue, enjoy this (via the impeccably tasteful Mr. Jones):

Holding on...

2008-05-10T07:38:00.004-05:00

Complete immersion in the busyness of my life has left me worn, tired... barely treading water at times. UGG. This morning I got up, let the dog out, looked out on the back yard--the sun lit the top of the maple tree and the grass was still wet from the storms the night before... am I present in this moment? In this time? Sometimes I think I"m just managing to hold on, until... until I get it figured out, until school lets out in June, until I can juggle everything effectively to the standard I crave...

So. very. tired.

So I make cookies and mix tapes and drink too much coffee. Far too much diet Dr. Pepper. And I hope...

Meanwhile: EARWIGS ARE LIVING IN MY SCREEN DOOR. EGAD. I opened the door to put mail in the mailbox and a shower of huge, slick and crawly earwigs dropped on my head. ON MY HEAD!!! I still feel disgusting.

There IS a God!

2008-03-17T20:27:00.004-05:00

Lo and behold, Bob Odenkirk and David Cross (of the legendary Mr. Show, which still warms the cockles of my heart when I wax nostalgic on the young Jack Black...sigh) are reuniting and filming a pilot sitcom for HBO, tentatively titled "David's Situation."

You can read the rest of the juicy news here at Paste Magazine, just like I did.

appropriate for the season...

Did you know that there are more than 7 deadly sins?

2008-03-16T22:06:00.003-05:00

So, apparently the doctrine that inspired everyone from Dante to the run of the mill penitent has been revised for the new age: the seven deadly sins just got a heck of a lot longer.

Formally, the BIG seven--LUST, GLUTTONY, AVARICE, SLOTH, WRATH, ENVY, and PRIDE--could land you in boiling oil, freezing water, or with a mouthful of rats and snakes for all of eternity. Now, eternal damnation, like gramma's old sofa, has been repurposed for a new generation of sinners.

"The Vatican has overhauled its list of mortal sins, adding several more to cope with the age of globalisation.

The new sins take aim at those who undermine society in far reaching ways, including by taking or dealing in drugs, polluting the environment, and engaging in "manipulative" genetic science, The Times of London reports.

Also new to the list are paedophilia, abortion, and social injustices that cause poverty or 'the excessive accumulation of wealth by a few'." (via the age, via mark morford)

Catching Up...

2008-01-29T16:51:00.003-05:00

SAW: Without giving too much away, let me just say that I thoroughly enjoyed the quirky sweetness of > Juno. The characters were too perfectly drawn to be real, but the fairytale-like self awareness of the film was endearing. With a stellar cast, the film is a true pleasure to watch both for performance and appearance... I loved the repeated theme of runners, the dark confines of the suburban homes, and the pristine innoculation of yuppiedom.

So worth a view, even if I weren't teaching pregnant teens and debating whether or not I'm too old to wear band t-shirts. ;)

HEARD: Can't get enough of Stars. Go buy some!

DID: I've got to say, being back in the classroom is both a blessing and a curse... but I love the individual spirit of some of my students. It makes up for the crap that I put up with on a day to day basis (can you move the sheet on the overhead? What page? I didn't know it was due! Can I have one more day? What are we doing? ARRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH)

ATE: You've got to eat the new Hershey's Nuggets Special Dark Truffles. Egad. Bliss in a tiny mouthful...

Indulgent Little Thing...

2008-01-14T18:28:00.000-05:00

So, thanks to Lorri... I am now analyzing my personality via the (http://kevan.org/johari?name=AmberEB) Johari Window. Check it out. You can choose words to describe me (ahem). THAT'S FROM A SET LIST, mind you. ;)

Get Behind me Satan

2007-12-30T14:02:00.000-05:00

Nothing says merry christmas like getting rid of your devilish area code number, eh? Myself, I love calling the local Papa John's because the last part of the phone number? 666. SATAN'S PIZZA! No wonder it tastes so dang good, all covered with the mark of the beast...

We briefly looked at a house for sale with the house number "666"... we decided against it because, cute as a button, it was built out of asbestos. Nope. Even though I'm sure that would provide ample protection against the hellfire and brimstone, I was not interested in living in a possible carcinogenic abode. Recently, though, I drove by and noticed that the new owners had had the number changed to 669. Hmm. Interesting choice, is it not? Apparently Satan was no good, but spicy sexual practices? Right on.

Anyway, I was listening to the BBC the other night and heard this report about a town in Louisiana that struggled for FORTY years to get their area code changed from the dreaded prefix "666." Now residents can opt for the placid, non-Antichrist summoning "749." Yawn.

Their mayor explained that after four failed attempts, they are just so glad to have the new number because ""This is a good town. ... We're good Christian people.".

Happy Holidays

2007-12-24T08:45:00.000-05:00

Christmas memories...
...lying under the Christmas tree, staring up into the branches and thinking it was like a little forest of lights, a magical world...
...the painful burn of hot peanut brittle under my hands as I stretched it, pulled it, making thin little threads of sugary goodness...
...dim-bright mornings, waiting for my sister to finish putting on her makeup so that we could open our presents...
...the first year I played Santa, staying up till 3 am wrapping and getting everything ready... and my son's eyes when he saw all the presents...
...candles in church, the hot wax dripping onto the circular cardboard protecter...

I hope you have a wonderful holiday.

Sweaters should not light up. No.

2007-11-18T21:15:00.001-05:00

Ewww. As if the dreaded Christmas sweater couldn't get any worse: Now they light up.

Frickin' battery pack sweaters, with visions of migraines dancing in my head... I hoped the image would magically twinkle with lit up goodness... no suck luck. Imagine those presents dancing amid little battery flashes of light. Isn't that festive? Don't you want one?

ACK! I stumbled upon them in the Steinmart flyer... but had to settle for this equally monstrous example from thesepurveyors of crap.

Wine with Everything, Please.

2007-11-18T18:08:00.000-05:00

Since I drive the back roads of the county at wee morning hours, I have been craving something contemplative and lovely... and thus began my current obsession with Iron and Wine. I can't stop listening to Our Endless Numbered Days. I love the Calexico collaboration, In the Reins. The melancholy steadiness of that EP runs through my veins like a throbbing caffeine substitute... how strange to find clarity and awareness in what is essentially contemplative. In the past, I woke to the screams of Frank Black or the tongue twisting lyrical imperative of Steven Malkmus.

Somehow the gentle lullaby of Sam Beam permeates my darkened car and calls out the morning from the inevitable mist. Yawn. Coming awake in a quiet consciousness.

And so I picked up Shepherd's Dog this weekend...

Still listening, still absorbing... the groove of sound is very similar and yet wildly more layered, more intricate.

I love this album as a whole entity: Each song leads into the next, building and creating a contemplative mood. "Carousel" hearkens back, sound wise, to Our Endless Numbered Days. "House by the Sea" is a steady building groove that details some Odysseus-like lover's triangle.
My favorite tracks are "Resurrection Fern" and "Flightless Bird, American Mouth." In the first, Beam weaves a melancholy story of two lovers, their lives apparently dried up and dead, living like ghosts...but underneath the outward appearance is the promise of resurrection, the unfurling of life returned.
"In our days we will live like our ghosts will live/pitching glass at the cornfield crows and folding clothes(....)" And we’ll undress beside the ashes of the fire/Both our tender bellies wound in baling wire/All the more a pair of underwater pearls/Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern"

"Flightless Bird, American Mouth" has a soaring quality that brings a catch to my throat no matter how often I hear it... just lovely. The progression of the music carries it from a quiet, introspective start into a blossoming ballad, the lyrics underlined by the instruments. It's the perfect closing song; cryptic, longing, and melodic. Sigh. I could listen to Sam Beam breathe (ala "Cinder and Smoke") and be happy.

Now I’m a fat house cat/Cursing my sore blunt tongue / Watching the warm poison rats/ Curl through the wide white fence cracks/ Kissing on magazine photos/ Those fishing lures thrown in the cold and clean/ Blood of Christ mountain stream/ Have I found you?/ Flightless bird, brown hair bleeding / Or lost you? / American mouth/ Big bill, stuck going down

(lyrics from www.sing365.com)

The Sound of Silence

2007-11-04T11:38:00.000-05:00

"As cellphone use has skyrocketed, making it hard to avoid hearing half a conversation in many public places, a small but growing band of rebels is turning to a blunt countermeasure: the cellphone jammer, a gadget that renders nearby mobile devices impotent."

(New York Times Technology: "Devices Enforce Cellular Silence, Sweet but Illegal")

Apparently, many people, fed up with the constant onslaught of private conversations in public space, have resorted to purchasing illegal "jammers, " a device that sends out a powerful radio signal that renders nearby cell phones incapable of communicating with cell towers. Basically, you hit a button and the neighboring phones go dead. Some of the more expensive jammers can be left on to create a cell phone dead zone.

Though I understand the desire to instantaneously cut off people's self absorbed cell phone conversations, I also find it equally self absorbed to assume that by vigilante "jamming" you are somehow providing a public service of sorts. Umm, no... instead of tolerating others' rudeness, you are asserting your own agenda front and center.

I hate hearing other people's inane chats. But at the same time, cutting off phone function seems harsh...downright invasive, and bordering on tyrannical. Who are you to decide if someone's phone conversation is superfluous?

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

2007-10-29T05:04:00.001-05:00

In honor of Halloween, I just have to give a nod to the incomparable Elizabeth Montgomery. SIGH.

Possible Insanity

2007-10-20T12:22:00.001-05:00

For those of you who are interested to know what's filling my time as of late (because I know you just sit around, waiting for me to ramble on about some mindless crap in my head): I am teaching again. I may be crazy. I may never surface from under a stack of Scarlet Letter copies. I may end up sniffing overhead pens and slowly, rhythmically banging my head into a concrete wall...

or hey, it might not be so bad. My optimism is boundless, is it not?

We DO NOT spank, shake, bite, pinch, push, pull, slap, etc.

2007-10-16T21:08:00.000-05:00

So, I'm filling out forms for after school care for my son when I come across the sheet on "Discipline and Behavior Management Policy."

These are real, people. I had to sign this form. There was a benign, touchy feely section on the things they "DO"--ie, listen to the children, praise, reward, stay consistent, etc. The opposite side was thus:

WE:
1. DO NOT spank, shake, bite, pinch, push, pull, slap, or otherwise physically punish the children.

2. DO NOT make fun of, yell at, threaten, make sarcastic remarks about, use profanity, or otherwise verbally abuse the children

3. DO NOT shame or punish the children when bathroom accidents occur.

4. DO NOT deny food or rest as punishment.

5.DO NOT relate discipline to eating, resting, or sleeping.

6.DO NOT leave the children alone, unattended, or without adult supervision.

7.DO NOT place the children in locked rooms, closets, or boxes as punishment.

8.DO NOT allow discipline of children by children.

9.DO NOT criticize, make fun of, or otherwise belittle children's parents, families, or ethnic groups.

Umm. Okay. Doesn't this stuff go without saying? I mean, BOXES?!

However, they are missing my mother's crucial behavioral device: the venerable FLYSWATTER.

Adventures in Children's Books

2007-10-03T18:40:00.000-05:00

Lately, going to the library with Miss S. has been an adventure in controlling my temper. She is just so THRILLED to be surrounded by books, she can't contain herself... or her urge to push them off the shelf, grab them out and flip through them, or bounce about on the little book stool as if it were some kind of trampoline. SIGH. She is still learning library etiquette (although she does say "Shhhhh!" in a dramatic stage whisper when we reach the children's room).

So sometimes we get well chosen, age appropriate tomes with lovely illustrations and thoughtful stories. Other times we just get whatever crap we can and get out of there as quickly as possible.
Today was a lesson in survival; we ended up with Laurent De Brunhoff's Babar's Little Girl.

Now, I didn't grow up with Babar the Elephant. As I recall, I checked out one Babar story when I. was a baby and was disturbed that Babar marries his cousin, Celeste. Nice. Incestuous elephants. The perfect bedtime story!

So I wasn't expecting much in the way of charm when I brought this one home. Still, I wasn't expecting creepy, vaguely penile child molester camel characters to appear and "play" with Babar's precious little runaway daughter, Isabelle.
The story, condensed:

The book opens with big ole pregnant Celeste lying in the forest. A baby appears beside her: Isabelle. Everyone loves Isabelle because she is just so charming and active and darling. One day, she comes across a turtle stuck under a very large hippopotamus. She and her siblings ask the hippo to move, and when he refuses, they push him away, saving the grateful turtle. Awww. Isabelle has a big birthday party and gets headphones and roller skates. Yay. She takes off on her skates, finds a kitten, and doesn't come home for dinner, earning her the admonishment to not run off again. Woo. Then, one day, while the family is in the forest, little Isabelle wanders off on her own. She finds an old man in a boat and asks him to give her a ride; he obliges. Then, she marches up to a large house and knocks on the door of two weird old men who look strangely penile and imposing. Boover and Picardee can't wait to "play hide and seek" with Isabelle and she entertains herself in a room that is covered in mirrors. Um, okay? Then she does yoga with the two dudes, after which they decide to teach little innocent Isabelle how to play poker. Yeah. Nothing is more refreshing than a jazz trio and a little tap dancing, so they do that, too. Finally, they watch tv in their basement and there is Babar onscreen, pleading for the safe return of his daughter. Since the two men are having their car fixed, they decide to hang glide Isabelle back to her palace. Yep, hang glide. Both men kiss her goodbye and make excuses and leave quickly before meeting her parents. Isabelle is the envy of her siblings because of her marvelous adventure. The end.

Umm. This book is so wrong on so many levels. I felt creepy just thinking about these pedaphile men wanting to hang out with some strange, lost little girl, and the message of the book is, Look what a fabulous life Isabelle has, running off from home and doing her own thing! How cute she is! How adventurous! (Now, according to Amazon, these creepy men are "old family friends." Hmm. The book is definitely not a stand alone piece, then!)

Leg on a Grill

2007-09-29T00:05:00.000-05:00

Only in North Carolina: segment #216 in a laundry list of news of the NC weird:

MAIDEN,NORTH CAROLINA:

"Shannon Whisnant purchased the grill during an auction Tuesday at Maiden Plaza Mini Storage. Lawing’s company lawfully auctions off items stored in the units of delinquent renters if they do not collect the items or pay rent. About 100 people showed up for the auction.
After buying the grill, Whisnant took the large cooker home and began cleaning it, said Maiden Police Capt. Tracy Ledford. When Whisnant lifted the top, he found a human leg from the shin to the toes. Dissatisfied with his new purchase, the freaked-out Whisnant brought the mummified leg back to Maiden Plaza Mini Storage."--Hickory Daily Record
And just why was this disembodied leg mummified and stuffed in a grill? Well, the original owner kept it for "religious reasons." Shoot; why not get it bronzed?

Dreaming; Reading

2007-09-24T10:06:00.000-05:00

While rinsing my coffee cup this morning, a swirl of golden leaves jettied through our backyard, catching in the Japanese maple and polka-dotting the brown grass. Fall is coming, even if the heat is still unbearable.

* * *

The other night, I came across some old dream journals. Reading through the bizarre filters of my subconscious, I thought about how long it has been since I actively kept up with the elaborate alterworld of my dreams.

All of my life, I have dreamt vivid, often ritualistic dreams, with reoccurring characters and adventures on a grand scope... Kind of like a free mini-series in my very own head.

Since having children, however, I have focused more on the sleep itself than the dreams that harbor there. Still, I figure it's worth a try to revisit the old habit of pen and paper at the bedside.

* * *

In other alternate realities, I just finished Gaiman's American Gods and I have to say, I truly enjoyed it. Pulpy and a bit overblown, it is a fun read that delves into mythology and the nature of America. I did wish for pictures, however.

Now I'm knee deep (or is it skin deep?) into Alex Kuczynski's Beauty Junkies, an eye opening (lifting?) exploration of the fervor for cosmetic surgery. Well researched and insightful, I am in the chapter on the nature of beauty and this quote struck me:

"Yet beauty speaks to such basic, deep longings, that our search for it remains the most insistent force in our lives. It is an expression of the divine, a symbol we hold up against the inevitable humiliations of mortality." (p. 115)

Washes your Brain as Well as your Dishes!

2007-09-17T07:13:00.000-05:00

As if we didn't have enough products headed directly for a landfill:

Still, I was completely baffled by the new product I saw this weekend: Dawn Simple Pleasures with Air Freshener Base. Umm, why? It's dish detergent! It's an air freshener! It's BOTH!

Seems like a bad idea, to me. For one, the air freshener is on the base of the bottle, where it will inevitably get wet. Secondly, why? Are dishes so stinky? Does the drain need cleaning? Have people never heard of baking soda?

I read the company website and was surprised at how fiercely devoted Dawn purchasers are. These people are hardcore, professing that they will (and I quote):"Love Love Love It! The smell is great, cleaning power is great, overall, GREAT! I Deffiantly will buy over and over again. Reccomended to all my family and friends! A product that always be in my kitchen!"

Yeah, lady. You go ahead and defiantly buy your fake-o smelling dish soap. Or how about this enthusiastic reviewer in Alabama:
"This product far exceeds my expectations.Wonderful,functional idea but the simple pleasures in life are really what gets us through the day.Every time I go into my kitchen I pick up the bottle of dawn simple pleasures and enjoy it's design and aroma.Aromatherapy really works.Thank you,Dawn for giving me simple pleasures plus satisfaction that I have a quality product in my home that thinks of new ways to indulge me.This product ,for me,is a neccesity and a luxury."

Oh, to have dish soap that "gets us through the day!" Egad. These people don't need dish soap, they need a therapist!

Holy Milk Prices, Housewives!

2007-09-13T22:09:00.001-05:00

Guess I'm having sticker shock at the dairy case... but since when did hormone filled, run of the mill cow's milk warrant a 6 dollar and 13 cent price tag? Gasp. Groan.

(And yeah, I bought the store version instead. Oh: and it was Walmart. Curse me as you will.)

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!

2007-09-08T18:49:00.001-05:00

In my pursuit of the perfect Glinda the Good Witch costume (a seemingly unending quest, as women apparently don't routinely purchase elaborate pink ball gowns with puffy sleeves and then donate them to Goodwill... and much is the shame!), I keep thinking about the Land of Oz Theme Park, a quirky and defunct tourist attraction once atop Beech Mountain, NC.

The Land of Oz was exactly what it sounds like: a theme park based on the movie, with a yellow brick road, Dorothy's house, and various movie and book themed vignettes, like the Emerald City (no longer there) and the witch's castle (still there). It was in operation from 1970-1980, but it eventually fell into ruin. People looted and vandalized, and it wasn't until 1990 that there was a local push to preserve and restore what was left of this once magical mountain kitsch.

I first encountered the idea of the place in high school, when a friend showed me photos of his parents on their honeymoon to--where else?--the Land of Oz. Having always loved the film, it captured my imagination. Several years later, I visited the "remains" that are housed at the Appalachian Cultural Museum in Boone, NC--there were some leftover concrete mushrooms, segments of the yellow brick road, and a history of the local attraction.

Now the park is only open 2 days a year, the first weekend in October. The park has food stands, memorabilia galore, and of course, people in costume. Every year, someone from the original film is a guest of honor, though there are no details on this year's guest. Though I've never been, there are some pretty thorough descriptions on Roadside America (how I love that site!). Thousands of people come and stand in long lines for the opportunity to walk the yellow brick road. I'm twisting my husband's arm even as I type!

Bonus fun: Any time of the year, you can rent Dorothy's House and stay atop Emerald Mountain...

(photo from www.emeraldmtn.com/oz)

Privette and his Privates: or, how many times can I use a cock related word in a blog entry?

2007-09-03T16:57:00.000-05:00

Good grief. One of the things about living in a small town is that you get used to the same, self righteous candidates repeatedly winning offices that they should have vacated decades ago. Case in point: Coy C. Privette. He's the kind of politician that southern stereotypes are built on: former state legislator, retired Baptist preacher, and current county commissioner, he is self righteous, unabashedly right wing, and full of cockiness (as you'll see), never afraid to condemn others for failing to agree with his views.

Apparently he was more cocky than previously believed. Privette was caught with his pants down, so to speak, when the prostitute he gave BLANK checks to tried to cash them. Concocting some cockamamie story about how his wallet was stolen and he had "no idea" who the person, Tiffany Summers, was, Privette initially tried to brush off the indiscretion. Unfortunately for Privette, Summers had a camera phone, with pics of the two of them.

The short and long of it is this, viaThe Independent Tribune:Privette on two occasions allegedly paid the prostitute with checks then reported those checks as stolen, officials said. He then backpedaled and pled guilty to "six counts of aiding and abetting prostitution."

His punishment? Via local blogger, Left on 49:

Rowan County district attorney Bill Kenerly agreed to defer prosecution which means if Privette meets the conditions of the court orders, the charges against him will be dismissed. Those conditions include supervised probation for the next year, completing 48 hours of community service, paying court fees and continuing psychological counseling that he had already initiated (some people might say there are other republicans who also might benefit from psychological treatment).

Of course, the biggest news of all is that Coy Privette thinks his privates are well, private. He thinks people will just "forget" about the fact that he had sex with a prostitute six times. In fact, he plans to continue to serve the constituents of Cabarrus County as commissioner, despite the fact that area newspapers, the Republican Party of NC, the Cabarrus County Republican Commission, and fellow County Commissioners have called for his resignation. Any reasonable thinking person would conclude that the man needs to focus on his personal problems and repairing his reputation more than he needs to strut around local meetings and barbecue joints. Seriously, who wants this politician dandling their baby on his knee? Lord knows what else he's been dandling.

Will Coy Privette do the decent thing and step down? Unbelievably, there is no law in place to force him to do so, so it is ultimately his decision. Guess we'll see what happens--but knowing Privette's attitude in local politics, I can't see him leaving willingly.

Great Expectations

2007-08-30T21:08:00.000-05:00

So. It's a long weekend, perfect for kicking back and... doing home projects. ACK! My better half and I are tackling a new task this labor day: re-taping our ceilings. Since we moved in seven years ago, we've said, "Wouldn't the ceilings look better if they were re-taped and painted?" Now, the moment of truth. As with anyone who lives in an old house, you become well versed in stuff you never thought you'd know how to do (i.e, I can patch a hole in plaster like nobody's business). So, we'll learn by doing, and I'm certain that by the time we get to the last room, we'll be pros. Right? Right. (I'm trying some positive thinking here, people!) Meanwhile, lord help us as we try to finagle fiberglass tape across wallboard joists.

In other news:

DO NOT BUY THE NEW RENTALS EP, "The Last Little Life." I REPEAT: DO NOT BUY IT. Sure, you might be like me, nostalgic about the two gems that Matt Sharp gave to the world, "The Return of the Rentals" and "Seven More Minutes." Yes, my son heard that stuff in utero, the pounding beats of "Hello, Hello" ushering in the millennium and a completely new path in my life. Suffice it to say: those days are gone. Over. As irretrievable as the garnet ring I once left on a dorm room sink. "The Last Little Life?" Well, the title is telling; they've managed to squeeze the last little life left in their musical ability into a small, embarrassingly awful turd of an album. Matt Sharp needs to hang it up and go home.

Getting Sentimental...err... STAYING sentimental.

2007-08-21T08:44:00.000-05:00

Woke up this morning with an old Doors' song stuck in my head: "Summer's almost gone..."

Where did our summer go? Last weekend, we were in VA and inadvertently ended up in the rush of VA Tech students outfitting their dorms/apts. Egad. Target was crawling with impossibly young people, carts piled high with rubbermaid totes and cheap kitchen gear. M. and I were shopping for Pokemon t shirts (no, they don't carry them) but instead were caught up in the flood of freshman. Did we ever look so green, so lanky? Can it really be so many years since that was me, stupid and scared and impossibly excited about my first foray into the world outside my parents' domain?

Next Monday, our once tiny baby boy will enter second grade. It seems shocking, really. Shocking in that I AM THE MOTHER OF A SEVEN YEAR OLD and shocking in that the time has passed so quickly. I don't really know how we got here; from Ben Folds Five to TMBG's Here Come the ABCs!

Still, I'm beginning to settle into this thirties thing. I can no longer pretend I'm "just out of college," particularly with a resume that includes seven (count 'em) years of stay at home motherdom. Suddenly, I reference things like an old person--oh, that was only a few years ago! I say, only to reconsider and realize that it was over a decade ago.

Summer's almost gone. Man, time passes.

Chomp on This

2007-08-09T13:52:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to share a picture of I's birthday pinata: a Mario Party Seven Chain Chomp. We spent the better part of the week before his party putting it together, but he loved it. Wish I had pictures of its demise... it ripped in half and was worn as a headdress, but of course.

Vomit, Revisited.

2007-08-06T18:56:00.000-05:00

Meg and Jack White, circa crazy
(This pic's from Paste. Is that really the White Stripes, or are they some extras from a Harry Potter film?)

I know I said I hated it, but like a dog returneth to its own vomit...
I keep listening to The White Stripes newest, Icky Thump, and trying to figure out how it can be a White Stripes album. Some of it has grown on me, much like mold grows on a wet tile. Some of it remains problematic.

The Pretty Good:

There are some songs that were easy to enjoy: the title track thumps along (lovely pun, eh) in that White Stripes way, full of energy and catchy lyrics. On first listen I liked the campy "Conquest" and its silly story. Repeated listens make me feel like I'm listening to some sort of ridiculous mariachi/emo tune, and yet that's not necessarily a bad thing. Hmmm. "Bone Broke" is classic White Stripes. Screamy Jack White, pounding Meg, and enough crafting to carry the song (ie, there's a melody and a chorus!). "Little Cream Soda" is just great. I would have put it much earlier in the album, to keep people listening for gawd's sake. Oh well, oh well, oh well!
I love the guitar throughout the album... especially on "Catch Hell Blues."

The Hard Worn Maybes:

However, some of the tracks that I really loathed at first have grown on me(or maybe I'm just getting worn down at this point). "You Don't Know What Love Is--You Just Do as You're Told" is so syrupy that it's pleasant enough, but essentially like a B side, fun thing... not the second song on an album.
Initially, I was underwhelmed with "300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues." It felt insufferably long and tedious, an indulgent Jack White bluesy bit. However, the more I've listened to it, the more I've enjoyed the languid mood it illicits. Kind of a moody little groove that suits driving.
"Prickly Thorn but Sweetly Worn" is out of left field. The whole bagpipe thing is bizarre. I can't decide if I'm having a Sting moment or if someone slipped some Jethro Tull in the stereo when I wasn't looking.
Rag and Bone" is so silly that I truly enjoy it. It seems like a hidden track, though. Again, the placement of songs on this album is baffling. I love the spoken word aspect of the lyrics.
"Effect and Cause" is kind of fun. Not great, but fun. It rolls along with its clever words, making me think of "I'm Lonely (but I ain't that Lonely yet)" off of Get Behind me Satan.

The Mold (not Bob):

I hate "Baby Brother". It makes me think of Jerry Lee Lewis meets Rev. Horton Heat with a heavy dose of Brian Setzer hairgel thrown in for good measure. It's frantically rockabilly and ridiculous. Bleh.
"St. Andrew(This Battle is in the Air)"? Ugg. I don't understand. I read an interview with The White Stripes in this month's Paste and Meg White explained how, in constructing this song, Jack wrote a string of things down and then had her read them aloud at random. Fair enough. But why the silly distorted voice? It's embarrassing to listen to.

Obviously,I need something new to listen to. Yes. But I's new Pokemon cd is just not cutting it. (One song raps the Pokemon names, and I'm paranoid that I'm going to bust out with some Jigglypuff.)

Repave Paradise, Put up a Starbucks

2007-07-25T22:31:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my sister, I ended the evening on a sour note:

Joni Mitchell signs with Starbucks.

How can the woman who sang about the proliferation of asphalt condone the company that opens Starbucks inside of every strip mall, kiosk, and bathroom stall (okay, that's an exaggeration) across America? Egad. If we are stardust and golden, then I guess we're also caffeine and sleep deprived.

Of course, I nearly choked on my home brewed coffee (thank you very much) when I read about SONIC YOUTH...frickin' SONIC YOUTH releasing a compilation album on the Starbucks label.
Still, at least Sonic Youth's is just a compilation... not a full fledged record. There's something just infinitely odd to me about the death of independent record stores and the apparent fortune to be made in the mass market appeal of coffee beans, decorative mugs, and oh, yeah... music cds. Maybe I'm being a stick in the mud (quite likely), but it seems so incredibly wrong for Joni Mitchell, folk singer extrordinaire, to be peddling her album at what is essentially the McDonald's of coffee shops. Shouldn't she be writing a song lambasting Paul McCartney for doing such a thing? Granted, her albums haven't been edgy since...oh, the seventies? But Turbulent Indigo was pretty good stuff (especially viewed alongside the horror of her eighties albums... the misery!).
It comes out in September. Guess I'll buy it alongside a cafe mocha and a big ass brownie. I'll need something to drown my disbelief.

The Darjeeling Limited

2007-07-25T12:14:00.000-05:00

After Ken made me wax nostalgic over my Jason Schwartzman obsession, I had to pop on over to imdb.com to see what might be in store for he of the mostly-bad-film-choices-and-yet-god-love-him actor.

Turns out Wes Anderson's latest film opens September 29th. Sigh. It's like a double dose of happiness... or make that quadruple dose, with Adrien Brody and Owen Wilson thrown in as well.

You can see the trailer here: The Darjeeling Limited.

Silly Rabbit, Trix aren't for kids?

2007-07-18T08:02:00.000-05:00

"Trying to persuade critics the industry does not need government regulation, 11 big food companies, including McDonald’s, Campbell Soup and PepsiCo, have agreed to stop advertising to children under 12 products that do not meet certain nutritional standards. Some of the companies, like Coca-Cola, have already withdrawn all such commercials or are in the process of doing so. Others, like General Mills, said they would withdraw them over the next year or so, while a handful agreed to expand their self-imposed bans to radio, print and Internet advertising."
--Brooks Barnes, The New York Times: "Limiting Ads of Junk Food to Children" July 18, 2007

Gee, if it weren't for the friendly people down at Kellogg and General Mills, I would never have guessed that Pop Tarts, Trix, and Froot Loops weren't good for kids. I mean, if something comes in a color wheel unknown to natural food and tastes like pure sugar, it can't possibly be bad for you, right? Why bother looking at those annoying little boxes filled with nutritional information...the kiddies like it, so it must be wholesome!

Are people losing their minds? Do we really think that junk cereal is the key to childhood obesity?

Child Advocacy groups apparently think so. The folks over at Commercial Free Childhood feel that there is a link between what children see on tv and what they put in their mouths. In a study of 152 kids between the age of 5 and 11, the participants were involved in two different experiments. In the first study, they watched ten toy ads followed by a cartoon. Afterward, they were allowed to graze from a table of snacks. Two weeks later, they watched ten food ads followed by a cartoon and allowed to snack.

"Notably, in the study of older children, kids who were overweight or obese not only ate more after viewing food ads, but they were more likely to eat sugary and high-fat foods. “This suggests that overweight and obese children are more susceptible to the messages they are exposed to through food advertising on television,” says Emma J. Boyland, an author on both studies and researcher at the University of Liverpool’s Human Ingestive Behaviour Laboratory."

Hmmm. I'm no ingestive behaviour researcher, but I am not certain that obesity is that clear cut. The children they are referring to are at the upper end of the ages they studied--9 to 11 year olds. By that age, habits are deeply ingrained. I would find the study more provocative if they showed a comparison between how much the children consumed after simply watching tv with no ads. I am a woman who will work out for 45 minutes and then go eat 2 decadent chocolate brownies. It doesn't matter that I've been watching fit tv where all the ads are for forlorn diet foods and weight loss pills. Given an array of foods on a table, I go for the chocolate. Might these children simply be exercising their right to choose what they like and are used to?

Growing up, I ate junky cereals...about once a year. Every summer, one of the highlights of visiting my aunt in Ohio was the stash of Coco Puffs and Flav-o Ice, two items that my mother banned from our own home. I would eat two or three bowls of chocolately goodness at a time, reveling in the fact that my morning breakfast cereal produced a bowl of chocolate milk. YUM.

Even in the ancient days of the 1980's, morning cartoons were filled with commercials for crappy food items. I longed to eat Cookie Crisp, but my mom merely scoffed at the idea of cookies for breakfast. The thought--! Instead, I ate boring, slightly more nutritious cereals like Honey Nut Cheerios or Frosted Mini Wheats. Yes, the commercials were seductive. The key opponent to this aggressive advertising was my mom. She didn't hold any stock in serving sweets for breakfast, so she exercised a simple right: she didn't buy it. Consequently, I didn't eat it.

Eliminating junk cereal commercials from children's programming does not eliminate the more pressing fact that SOMEONE IS BUYING THIS STUFF FOR THEIR KIDS AND LETTING THEM EAT IT. We don't need to legislate or push for social action on the part of companies; we need to push for parents to do their job and keep an eye on what and how much their kids are eating. No one can pretend they thought Trix was healthy; come on! Wringing our hands as if television has more impact on our kids than we do is relinquishing the power we have as consumers and parents to make choices for our families. Perhaps it is because confronting our own, darker issues with food consumption, nostalgia, and the inability to stick to our guns in the face of a whining child is a lot harder than pointing the finger at Big Bad Cap'n Crunch.

Moon Child or something like that.

2007-07-10T07:43:00.001-05:00

Last night we introduced I. and the cousins to the magic of The Neverending Story. Sitting on the couch, cuddled up with the kids, I realized just how long it's been since I saw the film, and what an impact it had on me way back when I first saw it in... 1984?

While watching, I kept thinking of how the film had imbued itself in my brain, and I was also surprised at its similarities to other films/books in the genre. For instance, when Atreyu ends up falling off the luck dragon and landing in a crumbling castle on the outskirts of The Nothing, he discovers murals depicting his recent past and, most importantly, what is about to happen. Amid the rock walls and the trailing ivy, the setting was remarkably reminiscent of the scene in The Dark Crystal where Jen and Kira read the stone walls and learn the role of the gelflings in the crystal's prophecy. Additionally, when Atreyu then stabs the the wolf G'mork, I thought of the scene in C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, when Peter must kill the wolf and take his place as a warrior and man. Something about the Empress's scenes, filmed so dreamily and with the light emanating from her, were reminiscent of The Wizard of Oz, when Glinda the Good Witch tells Dorothy she's always had the power to return home. Here, the Empress calls out to Bastian that he, in fact, has had the power to save Fantasia all along.

The first fantasy film that I can remember seeing is The Wizard of Oz, with The Dark Crystal being a close second. Chalk that up as my first non-human crush, because I was smitten with Jen. (Even at the tender age of 7 I was a little embarrassed to be hung up on a puppet, but there you go...it explains a lot about my future with men hung up on comics, Babylon 5, and the like.) Gelflings became a favorite game between me and my best friend, and we spent many a summer afternoon re-enacting scenes and creating our own. (Note: this was not a form of fan fiction, I swear. I was a kid, for goodness sake!) Coupled with Star Wars philosophy, I ended up with a very eighties insight into the grey areas of good and evil, the interwoven nature of our best and worst instincts. No wonder I became a frickin' English major...but I digress.

So now we're on an eighties fantasy kick, at least within the realm of what an almost 7 year old should see. Next on the list is Labyrinth, with the stellar casting of David Bowie and a jail bait Jennifer Connelly.

As for the these millennium kids and their opinion on The Neverending Story? They loved Falkor and the Rock Biter and, as my eight year old nephew put it, "I wish The Neverending Story really was never ending... because then it wouldn't be over!"

(picture from www.theneverendingstory.com)

and the pee goes on...

2007-07-02T12:04:00.000-05:00

Just in case you ever wondered about the glamorous side of staying home with your kids, let me give you a little inside peek at the marvelous fun of 24 hour days with your darlings:

Potty training a 2 1/2 year old, in a few easy steps!

Step one: Buy potty at age 18 months and allow child to play with it, hoping it will spark interest. Ditto with the potty training books, pants, and dolls. Watch child lose interest in about 4.5 minutes. Exhale and regroup.

Step two: After weeks of appearing nonchalant while secretly biting fingernails in hopes of actual success, watch child successfully use potty for both pee and poo and then promptly lose interest for the next 6 months! This part is loads of fun, I promise!

Step three: Wait for summer to arrive. Invest in good beer and a chocolate stash. Wax nostalgic about Sisyphean tasks.

Step four: Roll up rugs, cover bed in waterproof pads, and break out the super cute butterfly panties specially chosen by said 2 1/2 year old... and STAY HOME. Indefinitely.

Step four: Amidst the cabin fever, develop incredible biceps from wiping up pee accidents all over the house. Wash clothes umpteen times. Clean bathroom religiously. Pray.

Wait, there's supposed to be an end to this training? Yeah, well... I'll get back to you on that one.

The run down...

2007-07-01T20:34:00.000-05:00

Rented:

Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest: Nah. It's been so interminably long since I watched the first film that this one was hard to follow. It was full of things rolling around, which may have looked okay on the big screen but looked super-fake on the small one... and our netflix copy kept skipping full minutes, which, though normally problematic, was no big loss in this case. The only reason to see the film? Johnny Depp, of course. He doesn't even have to act--I could just look at him in eyeliner and rings and be happy.

Listened to:

The White Stripes newest, Icky Thump--try as I might, I can't get into this album. Three or four songs are memorable, with the rest seeming so on the fly as to be indulgent. The hooks are lean, the lyrics are lugubrious, and after The Raconteurs debut, how can this shite pass? It begs the description: Icky Thump is just plain icky. Oh well oh well oh well!

Read:

The Memory Keeper's Daughter: Save me from another trite emotional girl book filled with alcohol, depression, and broken families full of secrets. This one has the added bonus of random third person omniscient statements about time period, lest one forget that "It was 1964. Women didn't question their husbands" or some heavy handed editorializing statement about lactation or Down's syndrome. And yet, I can't put it down... the conflict! I am one of those people who has to read from start to finish, no matter the muck I may encounter in the middle. This one's pretty mucky, but I'm drawn in all the same... must be my trite emotional girl hormones kicking in, eh?

alli? more like foe

2007-06-25T20:48:00.001-05:00

Thanks to my dear friend Lorri for sending me to angryaussie.wordpress.com where I proceded to laugh my ass off at his discussion of the "treatment effects" of the new diet pill, alli. Apparently, and I kid you not, alli helps you lose weight by negative reinforcement; ie, if you eat fatty foods, you fart oil or, if you're really lucky, completely crap your pants. Yep, that's some "treatment effect."

Boot Camp for God

2007-06-18T13:16:00.000-05:00

On the last leg of our drive home from the Midwest, we rolled the windows down. The soft breeze lifted the evening heat, filling the car with the sense of summer and the soft sounds of traffic and birdsong. I lazily laid my head on the window frame, staring out at our town. M. broke my reverie and pointed to a huge banner framing the entry to a local church: "Army Adventure Camp! It's fun to be in the army of the Son!"

Welcome home, y'all.

My mind immediately flew to the idea of Jesus Camp (which, if you haven't seen, is well worth viewing simply for the shock value of seeing kids in camo waving flags for Jesus, as well as the priceless shots of Ted Haggard before his meth and homosexuality scandal broke and he fell from grace). Still, most publishers have website teasers for their VBS curriculum, so I thought I'd investigate this Army of God propaganda, er, theme.

Apparently this theme goes under several titles, from "Army of God" (hopefully not to be mistaken with the ultra right wing terrorist group, Army of God) to "Army Adventure Camp," and, as near as I can tell, is published by Walk by Faith Press (www.walkbyfaithpress.com) which try as I might, would not load. Awww. I had to read examples on another site, which sums up the program thus: "Army Adventure Camp will train, prepare, and equip your soldiers to stand firm in their faith and fight the good fight in the battle against sin."

Gee, it's good to know that the innocents of our community are being brainwashed in some kind of pseudo boot camp of religious dogma.

The Dream of Losing Teeth: on your wrist

2007-06-08T20:39:00.001-05:00

Okay, ya'll... just wanted to put in a plug for a very dear friend who makes amazing jewelry. The stuff is all handmade, with meticulous care in each piece (as well as a hefty dose of wit).

Check out the lovelies here: nonferrous.

One Big EYE!

2007-06-06T21:38:00.000-05:00

Okay. I just read Mark Morford's latest and I had to share... so go read I Can See Your Thong from Here: Isn't that you, outside your house, with a joint and a hooker? Google Street Views sees all.

If bad things happen, you deserve it?

2007-06-05T07:11:00.000-05:00

Over morning coffee this morning, I read this in the opinion page:

"When I battled breast cancer, I was frequently told that God would not take a person as good and loving as I. It might be a nice thing to believe: I was a churchgoer. I'd worked in a soup kitchen, collected for Toys for Tots. I was not Mother Teresa, but then virtue doesn't make one immortal; Mother Teresa died, just like everyone else."

--COLLEEN SHADDOX
Washington Post

Shaddox's column reiterates and retaliates against a popular thought process that is truly one of my pet peeves. Essentially, the thought process goes like this: if you think positive/write it down/visualize it/confess it/pray for it/believe it, it WILL happen! This pervasive belief is perpetuated by fundamentalists and new agers alike, and by many a well meaning person who doesn't seem to see the elements of hocus pocus within their philosophy.

One person told me that, "It's not like God is a candy machine, but if you ask him for specific things and pray vigilantly, he will answer your prayer. It says so in the Bible!" This particular person was praying for shoes for her daughter. I guess I just don't understand prayer in that way. To me, prayer is not about receiving material goods. The inverse of this "good things happen to good people" is that if you are poor,sick, or struggling, it is your own fault for not being a good enough Christian.

When my mom was dying of cancer, several people implied that she must have internalized pain or unresolved stress and brought it on herself. One person gave her a book on how she could heal herself, if she just tried hard enough (the implication being that it's your own damn fault if you die). I guess these callous jerks were trying to compartmentalize her pain into a cause and effect situation so that they could fool themselves into believing that somehow they themselves would never be in her place. If cancer is preventable by diet, meditation, regular checkups, etc, then somehow we feel like the great question mark is lifted--we have ensured our safety, our longevity. No one wants to admit that no amount of broccoli or positive thinking can keep you from cancer. We don't always know why people get incurable diseases. We can't wrap ourselves in a protective bubble and eliminate risk from our lives.

I'm not discrediting the power of positive thinking. It is essential to try to view our lives with a measure of possibility and hope. I'm certainly not advocating that we not try to envision success or happiness in our lives, but I think that when we forget that our attitude is that: an attitude, and not a magic bullet for all that ails our lives, we lose sight of the complexity of the human experience. Often, bad things are not avoidable or punishment for our lack of some prescribed behavior. They are simply bad things.

Gettin' Emotional...

2007-05-31T14:54:00.000-05:00

Okay, I have to put in a plug for my new favorite CD: Emotionalism. The Avett Brothers have busted out with a remarkably gorgeous album, with lilting harmonies and unabashed, well, emotionalism. The album resonates with the thematic elements of loss, regret, intensity and love... an amalgam of mixed emotions that somehow translate into the most polished album they've released to date. It is gorgeous and adventurous, not afraid to be silly in its honesty. Does it all work perfectly? No. But it gels as a whole piece, which is a new thing for their sound.

As personal as the songs feel, they also feel universal, as if somehow they peeked into your old diary and discovered the regrets of lovers past. It is this intimacy that gives the album its banjo speckled wings. Musically they've stepped up, and it feels like Emotionalism is their first full fledged, cohesive album.

"Each scar makes it harder for me to hurt again."

Snoopy Sno-Cones!!!

2007-05-24T14:11:00.000-05:00

Wow--they've reissued the 1979 fun summer toy, Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine.

I have to admit, my old one was hanging around the attic for the past 20 some years... but inoperable, of course. I finally threw it out about three years ago... CHANGE IS HARD, okay?

Ahh, but the sno-cone gods have accepted my landfill offering and lo, now I can buy a brand new one!

In Pursuit of the Hall of Foam, or: Strep on the Beach

2007-05-21T14:55:00.000-05:00

We just got back from a lovely vacation, albeit one in which I developed a nasty case of strep throat and had to eat Dora the Explorer chicken noodle soup and sip tea while the rest of the family noshed on fresh grouper and margaritas. SIGH. I read a really terrible novel by Anne Rivers Siddons that I discovered on the second floor bookshelf and I slept without dreaming in a penicillin laced haze.
All that aside, coastal North Carolina is one of the most restorative places I can imagine and it was fabulous just to be at the beach, with the house open and the wind
rushing in (and man was it windy!). All the storms the week before had done a number on the beach, so in leui of stairs, we tumbled up and down the impromptu dune, pelicans overhead and myriad fishing boats bobbing on the choppy waves just past the sandbar.

But enough of that. The real meat of this story is my quest for root beer. Yes, root beer. Because last year, when I discovered the signs for Dr. Rootbeer's Hall of Foam in Snead's Ferry, NC (home of the Shrimp Festival! Go here to hear their song!!!) I was smitten with desire. (Wait, can you be smitten with desire, or does smitten already imply desire? Anyway...)
So, this year, I read up about it, got I. all whipped into a frenzy for a gosh darn homemade root beer float (he wanted a black cow, but of course), and even rallied the inlaws to take the trek for a hotdog amid root beer memorabilia. So, we cleaned up, loaded up, and took ourselves on a wild sassafras chase, so to speak.

(photo from HomegrownHandmade which is a pretty interesting site with links to art and farm spots throughout NC)
We wound up and around and down a little ways, past an ancient looking skatin' rink and down toward the water and there it sat, a garishly painted concrete building emblazoned with the promise of hot dogs, pot roast sandwiches, and, naturally, ROOT BEER! It bore one other decoration, however: a puny taped up sign that told us to visit them at their new location in frickin' Barefoot Landing in Myrtle Beach.

Sigh. So I might actually have to haul the family down to Myrtle sometime, simply for secret recipe root beer.

Beans. Turkish Style.

2007-05-10T22:10:00.000-05:00

Okay. I can't stop looking at this food and salivating. I love me some bean dishes (who knew? Long ago when I was a midwestern kid eating pot roasts and steaks in A-1 I would never have imagined going ga-ga over garbanzos, but there you go...) and I stumbled across this site this afternoon: Almost Turkish Recipes.

I especially like the look of those green lentils...

Spidey Girl

2007-05-03T16:14:00.000-05:00

Okay, fellow geeks: you know what I'm doing this weekend. It's Spiderman 3 weekend, y'all! But of course, we are too old and curmudgeoned to make the midnight showing, so the weekend will have to suffice.

Though I could pretend that we aren't a comic book lovin' household, why bother?

ROBOT PARADE

2007-05-01T16:22:00.000-05:00

Today's blog is brought to you by the incomparable Henry Eudy and the letter "W." "W" as in What's that Robot reading? Answer: WALDEN.
To see more of Henry's work, go here: www.xanga.com/otherbrotherdarrell

(And yeah. I had to change my dang template in order for you to view this in all its glory.)

Lizard Porn!

2007-04-27T14:42:00.000-05:00

Nothing says good friday afternoon like checking on the peonies and nearly bumping into this:

My son wanted to know if he could touch them. I said, "Not now honey, I think they're busy."

World's Largest Coconut Orchestra

2007-04-23T21:40:00.000-05:00

In all the somber news of the past week, what better to focus on than this little tidbit:

5,567 people "clip-clopping" in time to the Python classic, "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life."
And yep, they set a new Guinness World Record.

Cottage Eye Candy

2007-04-17T12:13:00.000-05:00

Attention male readers:
You might just want to skip this one.

I like to look at other people's houses. I do. I love peeking behind shower curtains, opening medicine cabinets, etc. Yeah. I'm not proud. Over the years I've learned to refrain at times(like when I might be discovered), but I still think about it. But it's not just the hidden stuff behind closed doors--I love to look at how people put things together, at the decor of their home and the innovative (or not) things they've done to put their stamp on their place.

So, I love when magazines feature real homes, little peeks into what people actually do with all the crap they buy and drag home. I love looking on ebay or real estate sites and looking at the virtual tours of other people's houses. Voyeuristic? Yes.

The other day I stumbled across this website,The Old Painted Cottage, which features cottage/shabby chic stuff for the home (which, given my penchant for the 1970's, is a style I can appreciate but certainly never do myself). What intrigued me was the whole section of "Cottage of the Month" photos. Ooo. Peeking into people's personal spaces, seeing how they arrange things and what colors they use--even if it is not how I envision my own space--I love seeing it. I get ideas and also the ever present thought: "These people must not have children, dogs, or tipsy house guests. All that McCoy pottery would be shattered if they did." (If you do happen to look at the section, be sure to scroll to the very end of the page, where there is a photo archive for the past year.)

Chastity Chic?

2007-04-12T15:16:00.000-05:00

You know, having a daughter means you start think about all sorts of things that you might do together--reading girly stuff, painting nails, playing Barbies, having a tea party,etc. Still, it would never occur to me to plan for a Purity Ball. No. Not going to happen.

(FIRST: GO HERE AND WATCH THE VIDEO. DO IT.

Okay. You saw it, didn't you? The girls in ballet dresses floating around a white draped cross? Okay. Now continue reading.)

I first read about these occasions in O magazine and was both repelled and intrigued by the phallic imagery of fathers holding swords over their daughters heads whilst pledging to protect their chastity until the proper beau came along. The idea of virginity as a father's possession seems archaic--and yet apparently, many people find this patriarchal idea appealing because, as the Generations of Light Ministry website (the originators of the first ball in 1998) states, "The whole point of the covenant is about the purpose from a father's heart," Lisa Wilson said. "It's about is responsibility as a father in his heart and mind to model a righteous standard to his daughter, a standard of integrity, honesty, wisdom and discretion." (as quoted from The Gazette, 2001.) Hmmm. I can understand the desire for fathers to be positive role models to their daughters. Sure. But this is no simple father-daughter bonding activity if you ask me. The girls wear elaborate gowns and attend a fancy ceremony where they are given rings by their fathers, rings that symbolize that their virginity belongs to their father alone. They sign contracts to seal this pledge, and then they celebrate by dancing and eating WEDDING CAKE. Umm, is it just me, or does this sound sick and rather incestuous?

The girls are as young as 10 or 11, but some are teenage to early twenties. Most are home schooled and some even vow to never even kiss a boy before marriage. There's a great article from Glamour (yeah, quit smirking) that details the movement and has this disturbing insight into some of the young participants:

"Randy Wilson’s 19-year-old, Khrystian, is typical: She works at her church, spends most weekends at home with her family and has never danced with a male other than her father or brother. Emily Smith, an 18-year-old I meet, says that even kissing is out for her. “I made a promise to myself when I was younger,” she says, “to save my first kiss for my wedding day.” A tenet of the abstinence movement is that having lovers before marriage often leads to divorce. In the Wilsons’ community, young women hope to meet suitors at church, at college or through family connections."

You can read the rest of the article here:Jennifer Baumgardner's Would you pledge your virginity to your father?.
Essentially, these girls are expected to enter into father arranged marriages with nothing more than their pure thoughts to guide them... which sounds to me like it could lead to divorce pretty quickly.

So, what about these mysterious boys who are supposed to appear out of the proverbial woodwork (or pew, be it as it may) and sweep Daddy's little princess off to the hardcore reality of the marriage bed? I guess they don't need to worry about their purity... at least not until they are Daddies themselves and want to control and stunt their little girl's journey into adulthood.

In Praise of Mini-Eggs

2007-03-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

An Ode (of sorts) to my favorite Easter Candy:

Cadbury Mini Eggs. Rather dull in name, you might overlook the purple package amid all the tasty Easter candies filling the holiday aisle. Plus, the name "Cadbury Egg" conjures up images of a miniature version of the hardcore cadbury egg (complete with egg yolk oozy goodness!). Yet, Cadbury Mini Eggs bear no resemblance to the famed egg, nor do they taste anything like it.
Small, poppable, and pastel, they have that satisfying crackle-thin layer of delicate candy coating that gives way to incredibly smooth, sweet cadbury chocolate. SIGH. They are, in fact, one of my all time favorite candies. When my son was inutero, I often ate them for breakfast (must explain his sweet tooth... or perhaps my 60+ pound weight gain that pregnancy... hmmm) accompanied with some half and half coffee (half real/half crap decaf). They are only sold at Easter time, so there is that sense of scarcity that somehow enriches the whole candy feasting experience... eat up, for tomorrow they'll be 75% off and we can hoard them up for the next few months!
My mother used to buy me three or four bags at a time... family sized bags, mind you. I could usually manage to stretch them until... May. Sure, Hershey makes a mini egg that seems similar but don't be fooled. I like hershey eggs. I do. They are reliably hershey kiss-like with a thick candy shell like some kind of m&m proportioned quail egg. Yes. I eat them. But are they in the same league as Cadbury Mini Eggs? Hell no!
Hershey eggs are coarse, shiny things that cheapen the palate. Cadbury eggs are dusky, matte finished, and speckled like REAL EGGS (if real eggs were not only white but blue, pink, and yellow, too...). And the clincher is that they now come in

(drumroll... salivation ensues... clasped hands unfurl to reveal...)
DARK CHOCOLATE!!!

Royal Dark Chocolate, no less. Sigh.

My new sin

2007-03-06T19:43:00.000-05:00

Okay. I know I've been on a religious thing as of late, what with coffins, pentacostal hair and the like, but my friend L. sent me a link to this crazy beta site: www. godtube.com where I watched this:

The whole time I kept envisioning this segment set to Wiggles music, complete with Dorothy the Dinosaur dancing to "Do the Monkey" and tossing banana peels hither and thither, but that might just be because I'm the mother of a 2 year old.

Anyway. I guess youtube was just too dang secular for these folks, so they've started their own video sharing site... with such gems as this parody of Baby got Back that may leave you...speechless.

Baby got it goin' on like the wife in Proverbs 31...

God help us.

Avoiding that Preacher's Wife Look... you know what I mean

2007-03-02T12:46:00.000-05:00

Okay... I can't believe these are real suggestions. I have long hair, which I almost always wear up because in that completely illogical way, I prefer my hair long but not touching my face if I can help it. This drives my hair stylist crazy because she cuts these beautiful styles that I then yank up into a ponytail or braid, style be damned. Consequently, I like to figure out new ways to wear my hair up so that it doesn't look quite so much like a pentacostal preacher's wife (though that may be a lost cause). Today I bought this giant bobby pin stick thing and I wanted to see how to use it (impromptu lock picking aside) so I began perusing the www.scunci.com webpage, clicking on the euphemistically titled section "Effortless Beauty." Lo and behold, they have such innovative suggestions as putting your hair into a ponytail at the nape of your neck, braiding the ends, and then pinning it with bobbypins. Umm, that's so difficult to think of that it required a webpage?

Or how about this one: the aforementioned Scrunchie Out on the Town". If that's "out on the town" than I must be kicking it every night, my hair in that same damn hairdo while I nosh on popcorn and m&m's and watch tivoed episodes of One Life to Life. It goes especially well with my evening attire--jammie pants and a tank top, which I'm sure will be all the rage at socialite parties this season. Sheez. Everyone knows you never wear scrunchies out in public because that hasn't been acceptable since...oh, since 1992 or so. They are handy and don't cause damage but style wise, they have been a fashion don't for over a decade.

This one is even more fun, as it must be the "thrifty" style for those who are into economy. Come on, Scunci... do you really think that people are busting the bank when they buy any of your products? The most expensive I've ever seen was no more than 8 bucks, and it was a prommy-thing with rhinestones (the like of which will cost 25 or more at the mall). Satsify your need for cheap by recreating this:

This marvelously cheap hairstyle is made by twisting two sections of hair and securing it with one (count 'em!) mini jawclip. Isn't that amazing?! For ONLY 40 cents you can look like you twisted your hair and clipped it with a minjaw clip! AMAZING! Nevermind that that shit would pop out of my hair and break in a matter of seconds. Not too thrifty for me, eh, Scunci?

You could always just go for the Heidi with ADD look. Everyone knows that Heidi braids are done by having one on EACH side of the head... poor girl. She tries, but she just can't stay focused:

Shoot. I might as well just throw in the towel and dress to match the hair. Not to knock on anyone's beliefs, but I have spent more time than I care to admit looking at really awful clothes that are designed to fulfill the biblically "based" modesty movement. They have whole sections of jumpers! Jumpers, people! Twist on your scrunchie, slip into your not-sexy jumper, tie on some sensible tennies and go, woman! Egad. And of course... they've got you covered: Never fear, freaky modest women. Scunci has an emergency quick fix for that, I'm sure... and it probably involves a fileted scrunchie and some trusty bobby pins.

Rock, Scissors, Paper Coffins!

2007-03-01T18:58:00.000-05:00

Looking for that special oomph that will give your gift presence and style? I knew you were. When you have something mediocre, why not present it with a bit of macabre elegance? Yep, that candy necklace will seem like a fine jewelry store item once it's nestled in a smart little coffin.
These would have been perfect for all the flies I buried as a child...SIGH. My early obsession with death led to a little fly cemetery, tucked in beside our woodpile. Imagine if it had included actual burial vessels...! What authenticity! Instead, I had to make due with tearful visits from my dollhouse people and the solemn lone "monument," a plastic white cross on a simple brown base that stood in the center of the grouping. (One Lent, I saved money for world hunger just so I could earn that baby and put it out in my graveyard! Ahh, my early religious training!)

I mean, really, who doesn't need a little paper coffin in their lives? Or, if you're really feeling crafty, you can construct your own 13 piece Hearse Playset. I mean, really, isn't that just the cutest thing ever? (All toys are courtesy www.ravensblight.com, by Ray O'Bannon.)

Who Knew? Playing video games makes for a better surgeon?!

2007-02-20T22:29:00.000-05:00

Hmm. Now how can a mother argue with more game time if it might make the kid a better surgeon? Granted, I don't think Star Wars Legos is going to help perfect techniques in laparoscopic surgery...but apparently Super Monkey Ball 2 will! Read about the study via the Charlotte Observer.

Tips for Living

2007-02-15T16:12:00.000-05:00

Just a thought: Don't attempt to bleach your bathtub when you have a massive head cold.

That is all. I will now go attempt to rest whilst listening the the Wiggles cd for the umpteenth time. Ahh. Willabee Wallabee Woe is Me...

Flying mice, squirrel cam, and David Lynch

2007-02-07T14:54:00.000-05:00

So, I'm reading about the new David Lynch... 3 hours of dream sequence, non-linear driftings and...rabbits. Do I want to see it? Damn straight. Does it sound like a train wreck of metaphors and stuff that should have hit the cutting room floor? Of course!

You can read about "Inland Empire" here,
or simply watch the trailer:

Procrastination... and Toilet Paper.

2007-02-01T16:44:00.000-05:00

You know, when it's snowy outside and you're sitting inside, cozy and sipping a cup of tea, the mind turns to the history of toilet paper. Yeah, that's right. Toilet paper. Because I am procrastinating in the great rearrangement of our ENTIRE HOUSE, I am instead perusing the hallowed exhibit halls of the aptly named "Virtual Toilet Paper Museum."

Yes, I really did just waste time looking at pictures of toilet paper packages, and let me tell you, it wasn't all a waste (pardon the pun that I know you're thinking of!). I did learn something, like toilet paper as we know it was not invented until about 1880 (meaning on a roll). See? The edification factor alone is enough to make you want to look at products with names like "Good Day"* and "Lucky Dutchman*." Sigh. I found this useless museum via another fun timewaster where you can find directions to make things like a farting poodle. Ahh, ingenuity!
(*Photos are from said museum)

Waxing Nostalgic

2007-01-25T20:17:00.000-05:00

(This is the general store, circa 1960 via this link)

So, I've been steeping myself in tea, folksy stuff like morel hunting, and my father's childhood marble games. For whatever reason, the call of my redneck past (there are a hundred ways to cover it) pulls like old style taffy, like I saw in a candy store my aunt took me to when I was far too old to have never seen taffy pulled but I was fascinated all the same. Suddenly I've been writing again, with my heart checking in and my inner critic checking out, and it has been bliss. The tangled stories of my past and present make a boring blog but here is one of the more memorable things I've been toying with:

Remembering a long walk on the parkway that turned into getting lost in the middle of the Blue Ridge, stuck on a dirt road that seemingly led to nowhere but in fact led to a town not unlike the dreamy one in Big Fish... a strange, forgotten piece of backwardness known as Edgemont. There was literally a church, an open air pavilion for picnics and revivals, and a stark white general store that was, as luck would have it, closed. No one was nearby. It was eerily deserted, as if everyone walked out in 1960 and never came back. Luckily for us, someone did, in a beat up old pickup truck that seemed doubtful but was our ticket out of the backwoods. I rode in the back with my dog, longing for nothing more than a drink of water and a paved road.

You can read about the history of the place here. After looking at the pictures of the interior, I am immensely sad that I didn't get a chance to go inside and buy a glass bottled Coke. Heck, I bet they have Cheerwine.

Sour Patch Kids vs. Gummy Bears: aka LOTR geekdom

2007-01-15T14:44:00.000-05:00

Okay, I know I'm going all prolific as of late, but I just had to post a link to this incredible recreation of the Battle of Helm's Deep (that's from Tolkien's "The Two Towers" for all you none LOTR geeks out there):
CANDY SCALE REPLICA OF THE BATTLE OF HELM'S DEEP .

Love the nerd pathways. Love the tootsie pop catapults. Sigh. I found this, of course, via that portal of all sugary goodness, www.candyaddict.com.

T-Ball on Whole Wheat

2007-01-15T07:55:00.000-05:00

While perusing an issue of Parents, I found this gem of wisdom: "Give kids older than 2 some early T-ball practice by playing catch with stuff like a roll of paper towels, a package of napkins, or a loaf of bread" (February 2007, pg. 77). Yep, you read that correctly. A loaf of bread. Doesn't everyone want to toss around a loaf of bread with their toddler? Supposedly, this "soft" catch is a good way to put away your groceries. Ahem. Has anyone at Parents ever soft caught a loaf of bread themselves? My children are not like golden retrievers, designed with soft grasps capable of leaving the bread shaped and intact. No, unless we want our grilled cheese on bread squished half the size, I'll be putting the bread up myself, Parents.

I'll have my cake and eat it, too!

2007-01-11T20:06:00.000-05:00

Okay... I feel a rant coming on. In light of the new year, what with the glut of good intentions to scale back, pare down, or any other euphemism you want to use for lose weight, I get irritated. Not about people wanting to diet or exercise--that's their personal business. No, it is all the hubbub that accompanies it that gets my goat. "Oh, I couldn't possibly eat that... it's too rich," is the response to a chocolate brownie, while something like a fruit pastry/pound cake/white cake with frosting/pudding/apple pie/oatmeal raisin cookie/chocolate chip muffin/gingerbread etc. is somehow seen as a "lighter" alternative. What? Just because something is not dark and decadent looking, it somehow escapes censure? The lack of cocoa somehow makes it less fat and calorie laden? There is no end to the times when I have been out to dinner with others and they look askance at my chocolate dessert, lamenting how they can't eat that kind of thing, whilst they've consumed a plateful of appetizers, several alcoholic drinks, the entire content of a bread basket, and an oversized entree... but they can't fathom how I can eat chocolate? Hmmm.
I purposely eat less of my meal so that I can have the whole damn piece of cake, calories and all. It's just priorities, people!

Two year old theology

2007-01-07T15:10:00.000-05:00

Recent theological progression in the life of a two year old:

S. calls her new baby doll "the baby Jesus." This illicits such comments as, "Mama! Where da baby Jesus go?!" or "Baby Jesus need diaper change." Ahem. Right now, Baby Jesus is crumpled up in a dolly bed with her tights off...so there you go.

quickie review to begin the new year...

2007-01-02T10:50:00.000-05:00

I could blather on about new year's resolutions, with staunch declarations of how grateful I am for the last year and how disciplined I will be in the new one--but none of that is interesting or particularly true (as far as discipline goes!). Instead, here's a briefing on what I've been seeing/listening to since the Christmas gifting frenzy ensued:

Listening:
Death Cab for Cutie--Plans. Bleh. I am so disappointed, I can hardly talk about it. I finally got this album (since I adore Transatlanticism) and what a letdown. Trite, uninspired... should I go on?

Yo La Tengo--I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass. Wow. Lovely as always and infinitely good for afternoon listening, coffee in hand. Not a title to leave around for the little ones to discover, however. (Mommy, what does this mean? "Beat your ass?")

The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society. Still listening... but definitely a sixties album, when recording could go off on a tangent and travel there for a while with no thought to radioplay. Of course,there's the poppy stuff that glues it together, too (title track, Picture Book, etc.).

Watched:

The Prestige-- We finally saw it! I was a little disappointed (can't discuss unless you've seen it) but I really loved how it was woven together, an illusion about an illusion about an illusion. We love Christopher Nolan...just put "Insomnia" in our queue.

Danny Deckchair--Silly, formulaic, and wonderfully sweet. It is a fun romp, where you know what happens and it's stilted but you like it anyway.

Happy Feet--good but not as fabulous as expected. The big surprise is that Robin Williams is actually bearable!

Clerks II--already beaten to death (no jokes, please...you know who you are) in other blogs, but I listed it here for posterity. Yeah, it sucked, but we had to see it regardless. Rest in peace, Dante and Randall.

Fish N' Flush!!!

2006-12-17T21:49:00.000-05:00

Ahh, just when you thought bathrooms couldn't get any more multi-functional:

The Fish N' Flush.

Sigh. Just think, you can poop among the fishes! Read the newspaper whilst Nemo looks over your backside!
Billed as a "conversation piece that will appeal to most everyone," it is apparently a full functioning toilet as well as salt or freshwater aquarium. Safe for kids, even! All around, it's apparently "a fun-fashion statement for the homeowner who wants to have something unique in the bathroom."

Why, you ask, should you purchase said toilet? Why, for these reasons (and I quote!), of course!

Why Choose Fish 'n Flush?

• Maximize Space
• Entertainment
• Excitement

Yeah, I so want one.

Excellence in Education?

2006-12-15T10:00:00.000-05:00

Just the thing to read over your morning coffee:

16 INCIDENTS REPORTED IN 2005-06
Cabarrus schools atop sex-crimes data
District officials say tally skewed by 1 incident counted 4 times; larger CMS system totaled 9

If you want to read the rest of the article, it can be seen in all it's glory here.

All hail the great and illustrious Cabarrus County school district. Gee, it's good to be known for something, right?

Tangle-wouldn't

2006-12-10T12:27:00.001-05:00

The name sounded slightly rustic and magical: Tanglewood Festival of Lights. So. We wanted to have a fun, memorable holiday evening, complete with Harry Connick on the player and bright eyed kids enraptured by the wonderment of Christmas lights. Sounds idyllic, right? Okay, okay, so that's a stretch... but it at least sounds sweet, like a family memory to treasure as the years pass.
We started off in good spirits, caravaning with my sister and stopping off for what we thought would be a quick bite to eat at the local Bob Evans. Interminable amounts of time passed as we waited and waited for food that was then barely palatable. S. wouldn't stay in her seat. C. was sick with the chills and kept crawling his eight year old self onto his parents' laps. J. was ravenous as always. The adults? We were bleary eyed and irritated by the time we finally got the check and left the place (and good riddance).

We clipped along to Winston-Salem in record time, only to discover that our computer printed directions were incorrect. The official website recommended exit was closed. So, we took the next exit, stopped at a gas station, and got alternate directions. At this point, it was around 8 in the evening. I rolled my window down to get last minute instructions from my brother-in-law and then, it wouldn't roll up. I pushed the button. Nothing. We turned off the radio--not even a sound of a weak gear grinding into action... silence. Cold air blew in and S. started to cry. It was frickin' cold, my damn window was stuck, and our jaunty little holiday light trip had turned not so jaunty.

Finally, ten minutes into the traffic jam, I wedged my fingernail into the button and got the damn window up. Happiness ensued. We put on the White Stripes (loud) and sang as we inched along. A few houses along the route were done up in Christmas lights and S. was thrilled.

Hours passed. Really. We crept and crawled along, idling away half a tank of gas on a 3 1/2 hour wait JUST TO GET IN THE GATES. S. was asleep. M and I were cranky and tired,in desperate need of a caffeine jolt. NOt so merry, we blared the Polyphonic Spree in hopes of resuscitation. Not effective. We were just too cranky. Merry frickin' Christmas, we muttered, sitting helpless as cars deliberately kept us from merging.

On top of the stir craziness of sitting for so long, I needed to pee. Of course! This is no surprise--I peed twice at the gas station in preparation for a long wait, but 3 1/2 hours is just too long for my peanut sized bladder. Glancing longingly at the woods, I considered hopping out, ducking into the tangled woods and relieving myself. I'm sure the car would not have moved more than an inch in the time it would have taken me to do so. I kept thinking, surely we'll get in there, soon... but finally, I took drastic measures. Scouring the van yielded a sippy cup and a soda bottle. I chose the sippy cup. Nothing says Christmas cheer like pee in a Nemo cup, eh?

Still, 13 bucks later, we were slowly rolling through a landscape dotted with huge, blinking snowflakes suspended over the road... past candles that seemed to flicker and flashing squirrels that darted overhead. Across a pond, a sea monster writhed and a pirate ship stood docked, while a blonde mermaid flipped her tail. It really was magical. We listened to John Denver and the Muppets. We put in Harry Connick, Jr. S. woke up and her face broke into a giant grin, her eyes wide.

Guess we got our holiday memory after all... it just didn't come in the usual package.

Who is Bob Hutton on Jeopardy?

2006-12-04T21:55:00.000-05:00

Holy Crap. Bob Hutton, resident noise maker, random snippet sayer, and all around bizzaro who made my college years more interesting, just frickin' won Jeopardy. You can click on his name to see a little video of Bob on the show's webpage.

Tune in on Tuesday to see him in action.

Making Christmas, making Christmas...

2006-11-29T08:01:00.000-05:00

I'm on a brain drain this week... snippets of songs in my head, the slow recovery of too much turkey and an extended weekend with inlaws...

*yawn*

So, what have I been thinking lately? All about Christmas. Yep. What gifts to buy, which cards to send, what to bake... I'm wavering between bah-humbug and over the top joyous goodwill. It is exhausting. The juxtaposition of elation and dread would wear anyone out, I think. I wish I could stay even keel but this Christmas Eve marks the eighth year of my mother's death... I'd like to say it is easier but in reality, it is just weird...different...less sharp, maybe?

So... this is what I'm thinking. I'm compiling my baking list, and I wondered if anyone has any recipes/suggestions of what makes a Christmas cookie tray complete?
I think you need something spicy, like gingerbread men or the like... something almond, like a crescent, and of course, something CHOCOLATE because I frickin' live for chocolate. But what else?
So far I'm making:
peanut blossoms (in honor of my stomach and Marcus, who I always think of when I'm making them)
almond crescents
toffee
peppermint bark
chocolate cappuccino cookies

Suggestions welcome. Recipes are even better.

Visible from orbit...

2006-11-16T20:13:00.000-05:00

Okay, this time Frayed One has me thinking about giant things to view from outer space. Ahh. I have been in the vicinity of this sacred spot several times, but I have yet to make the (ahem) pilgrimage...
Yep, those are giant "tablets" of the TEN COMMANDMENTS. I got that picture from the endlessly entertaining site,Roadside America. You can wile away many an hour with their vivacious copy detailing downright corny/creepy roadside attractions across the US of A. Anyway, these mammoth words of God are located in Murphy, NC (of course!) and are supposed to be visible all the way to... heaven, perhaps?

For a more detailed view, you can check out the official wacko site, Fields of the Wood Bible Park. They have 300 (count 'em) photos, with more coming! Ahem. If the pictures alone don't convince you to trek to the middle of nowhere to reenact rolling away the stone, maybe this impassioned description will (and I quote): "You’ll not find the Ten Commandments pulled down and in some closet here at Fields Of The Wood Bible Park, in fact, they are PROUDLY displayed in four feet wide by 5 feet high concrete letters/numerals on the entire slope of Ten Commandments Mountain! Atop Ten Commandments Mountain is what is believed as being the world’s largest New Testament, a thirty foot high, fifty foot wide Bible with a 50 person overlook atop of it, which you climb up to using stairs within the structure! PS: If you don't want to tackle the steps to the top, there is a paved road up to it! (Lots of parking at top, and even a concrete table!"

Road trip, anyone?

(Giant 30 ft high Bible via the field of the wood website)

My favorite new phrase...

2006-11-15T23:30:00.000-05:00

Okay, thanks to Ayzair, I have been researching phrases and reading about the origin of expressions. I ended up on this site. Most of them are pretty much par for the course, but this one caught my eye (and I quote):

Sucking hind tit
Meaning: Not getting a fair share.
Example: Since the introduction of Windows 95, Apple Computer has been sucking hind tit.
Origin: Many female mammals have multiple rows of breasts, for example dogs. Typically the rear most pair of breasts is smaller and less developed than the rest. Hence a pup nursing from the rear most breast is likely to receive less milk than other nursing pups. Hind means rear most. Tit is slang for breast.

Well then. I simply have to work that one into casual conversation.

Innate Morality?

2006-11-06T14:04:00.000-05:00

Okay... this is a fascinating proposition, and it is merely a hypothesis... but what an intriguing one:An Evolutionary Theory of Right and Wrong. Much like Chomsky's idea of an innate, universal knowledge for grammar, Harvard biologist Marc D. Hauser Dr. proposes the idea of an underlying moral grammar system that is shaped by the culture in which we live. (The book is called "Moral Minds.")

(article via What's in Rebecca's Pocket?)

Going to (read at) the chapel

2006-11-03T23:09:00.000-05:00

Okay, guys...

I need your help. A friend of mine is reading at a wedding and she wants something romantic but still witty, intellectual but also sweet, etc. The catch: she needs it pronto (the wedding is next week). So, what would you suggest in the way of poem, excerpt, etc...? Thanks!

Which Witch is Which?

2006-10-31T20:20:00.000-05:00

Okay...
Halloween news of the weird: a man dressed in solid black, looking much like a jazz musician, wandered up to us mid downtown candy crawl and accosted Mr. I. "What are you?" he asked, leaning down into his face, all too close, and slipping something from his pocket into I's candy basket. "I never even heard of no power ranger!" he guffawed, and moseyed on, laughing at...nothing?
Well, just to be safe, I checked out the basket to make sure there wasn't anything off in there (like a wadded up kleenex or vitamin or even lint) and what did I discover? Three Ricola cranberry cough drops. Happy Halloween, little buddy.

Put a kork in it

2006-10-13T13:30:00.000-05:00

Okay, not being an aficionado of bow culture, I recently stumbled across the name of the impossibly big and squiggly hair accessories found perched on little girls' heads throughout the country. Korker bows. Egad. Not only do they sound like a slang statement that one would make when smelling something best not smelled, as in: "That's a korker for sure, that one" with a wrinkle of the nose... or, heaven forbid, a slang term for something vaguely sexual, as in, "I'd kork 'er," they also are ridiculously unattractive. Case in point: you can view pictures of said korkers by simply typing in "korker bow" on a google search, or you can look here at the Sweet Baby Bowtique, purveyors of particularly gargantuan headgear. Be sure to check out their (ahem) "Funky" bows.

These behemoth bows are the rage in our area, according to the creepy woman who accosted me at the local secondhand shop. There I was, my daughter in arms, flipping through the rack of overpriced, worn out clothes and thinking, these people must be crazy, when this very blonde, very scary southern woman accosted me and proved me right. "Oh can I hug her?" she gushed and proceeded to do just that (do I need to remind you that I was holding Miss S. while this was going on? Eww! Personal space, lady!). Then she reared back, lifted her head to stare ( through her imaginary bifocals? her third eye?) at the petite, tasteful navy blue bow clipped in S's hair. "Oh." she said. "Oh." I wondered if there was something wrong. Then she launched into her spiel: "We have bows. Exclusive bows. They are only sold at two other boutiques in Charlotte,"(which makes them not exclusive but I didn't want to mince the finer points) she paused, licked her lips eagerly, and continued. "But we have them here and they are just the cutest things. My granddaughter... she's 18 months. Well her hair is straight as a stick and my daughter in law had her at church last night (BINGO: Southern Baptist or Pentecostal... at this point I got really antsy) and she had two of those bows clipped on her ponytails and the hair was sticking out like straw and it was just so cute... they're curly ones, they're corkscrew bows. Exclusive." Somewhere in between her rapid eye blinks I managed to escape the store with my daughter's apparently offensively uncurled and forlorn bow intact.

Some imagined backstory:

It's like two women were out walking with their kids in their impossibly expensive status strollers and someone said, "Hey Allison, you know what I think would be really cute? A bow bigger than her head. No really... TWO bows bigger than her head, combined into one hairdo. That would be awesome!!! Then her inane companion, head perched to one side, had her own a-ha moment (her last being sometime mid 1986, with the release of A-Ha's "Take On Me," but I digress). "Omigod Christy let's make them in multicolors to match every outfit! It will be just like being a cheerleader/sorority queen/elementary school teacher/etc. all over again! We can even give them cutsie names and match them to overpriced boutique clothing lines! Let's do it!" Thus, a cottage industry was born, with little girls soon bedecked in hair accessories with enough yardage to stuff a small occasional pillow.

Soft focus glow back to my present day rant:

Now, I put bows on my girl. Of course I do. It's the south, for chrissake. She even has a tiny psuedo korker bow that I bought at (gasp!) Gymboree on deep discount. But I do not (repeat)DO NOT put bows on her head that fight for their own zip code. She's a beautiful little girl with great, wild hair and I'm not going to dwarf it in some freakish Marie Antoinette scale hairbow made of grosgrain ribbon and rickrack.

Playtime

2006-10-10T19:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, file this under things I wish someone would pay me to study:
KIDS NEED UNSTRUCTURED PLAYTIME. Well slap me and call me Sally but who in their right mind thinks over scheduled, over-flash carded, super programmed kids are the way to go? Swings and tree forts and dollhouses, man. A little fairy dust made in the sandbox goes a lot further than the organized playdate at Build-a-Bear Workshop.

According to the report, unstructured play helps children become creative, lets them discover their own passions, helps them develop problem-solving skills and teaches them how to relate to others.

(via the Charlotte Observer)

You can read further about this massively groundbreaking study (ahem)here.

Seriously, though, it is nice to have some statistical backing when it comes to the insane pressure to superparent your kids out of a childhood. Just the kind of ammunition you need, sadly enough, when you're going up against Baby Einstein wielding, preschool placement grubbing, test prepping parents...
And the best part of all? It's FREE.

Welcome October!

2006-10-01T18:55:00.000-05:00

My favorite month begins... did I mention October is my favorite of all months? The weather, the trees, and of course... Halloween. Sigh.

Now... to finalize my costume... in the midst of researching costume ideas, I've discovered how to make gelatin elf ears (courtesy of LOTR Costume.) No kidding! This site is INDEPTH, people. They ain't kidding around. Yeah, I'm not too proud to admit that I'd like to dress up as Arwen. However, I am certainly not willing to go to this level of authenticity. I do however, like the suggestion that one should go about making gelatin elf ears whilst topless. Hee.

Right now I'm deciding between Glinda the Good Witch (all glitter and pinkness, my dear!) and perhaps my own version of Promethea... my requirement for any superhero is that I not need be clad in a catsuit or some impossibly tiny bottom... ugg.

Any suggestions? So far the only legitimate one was that I parade the downtown streets dressed as a giant white, fluffy bunny. Hmm. Still considering that one.

Mix Tape's a masterpiece....

2006-09-25T20:46:00.000-05:00

...had to share this nifty project: The Art of the Mix on Weekend America. Be sure to listen to the audio file of the excerpt from the show. Basically, 12 strangers became part of a mix cd club, with the only requirement being to make one mix cd, decorate the cover, and mail 11 copies out to the other club members. New clubs are forming--the email link is at the end of the article. I love the idea of how we form opinions of one another, sometimes surprisingly accurate opinions, based on our musical tastes. It is often a window into someone's deeper inclinations (or not so deep... or possibly even embarrassing...). Conversely, we often latch on to the similarities in another's musical taste, often making assumptions that are mere projections of our own reasons for enjoying the sound/lyrics, without necessarily understanding the other person at all.

Anyway, I love the idea of inflicting my musical leanings on 11 poor souls in return for a crapload of hopefully new music...

(by the way, the title's from "Kate" by Ben Folds Five... but you knew that already, didn't you?)

Unzipped

2006-09-12T13:10:00.000-05:00

Guess what I did at the county fair? Go on, take a wild guess! Oh, of course I saw the typical trashy fare of the fair... one girl with incredibly good legs wearing hot pants and stilettos caught my eye, but hey, who am I to judge? Why not wear six inch heels on the tilt-a-whirl? Your business, honey, not mine. Still haven't guessed, have you...
Well, let's just say I was facing a demon and the demon won.

Some back story: Long ago, as little hapless girls in pigtails and windbreakers, my sister and I went to a fair to support the rebuilding of an insane asylum. Yep, you read that correctly. The original building was not much more than a shell of wooden floors and crumbling brick and was basically destroyed in a devastating fire. So, what better tribute to this scene of tragedy than to host a fair on the very grounds, with all proceeds going to the reconstruction? Great idea. I received my first roach clip and wore it as a barrette (!)for years... it was trimmed with suede strings,beads, and grey feathers. I don't think my parents realized what it was for, or at least I hope they didn't, since I wore the thing to elementary school on at least one occasion. Anyway, we decided to ride the Zipper ride that was there for all to see, a hilarious good time of careening back and forth, round and round, over and over...

apparently full fledged, stomach churning merriment for a mere ticket or two.

We gladly paid up and then clutched our cage in fear--my sister laughing uncontrollably and me crying uncontrollably, both transfixed with terror. The carnie laughed a good laugh and kept pushing the lever, waving at us as we spun by, our screams sucked out by the endless motion. When he finally decided to stop the ride, he acted like he'd done us a big favor, letting us ride for so long. Bastard. I remember clinging to the ground in relief, terrorized but free and vowing never to ride such a thing again.

Fast forward to the county fair, circa 2006. M and I decide we will ride said beast, the much bigger, more rickety Zipper that beckoned like a glittering beacon, the belts and gears still dripping water from a momentary rain shower earlier that evening. We stood in line, noticing the dazed looks of riders as they stumbled out onto the midway, and we both steeled our nerves. We were riding it. It's only a ride, after all, and a few minutes later, we could laugh, ridiculing our fear. And that's how it felt, at first...we were okay with the momentary stomach jerking tilt of the thing, the fluttery tip of the cage as it mounted the top of the frame and then cascaded back down, spinning. Then hell began. The Zipper really got going then, with full banging shaking thumping gear burning stench, the lights firing past our eyes as we turned over and over, thrown violently up and down and back around again. Every muscle tensed, I decided that this was one of the more stupid moments of my adulthood. M concurred.

Afterward, I could barely walk. I limped my way to a folding chair and sat down in defeat. M got our kids and got me a little closer to a bathroom, where I promptly staggered in and vomited. Nice. I later knelt in the wet dirt of the county office parking lot and vomited in the grass, disturbing a beetle who scurried away from my regurgitated funnel cake. Ahh. The ride home was hell. I finally bolted into the house, puked hard and fast, and fell into bed. Who knew? (Shh, honey, mommy got too dizzy on the Zipper ride and now she's comatose... Daddy will get you to bed). Aww. I am the poster child for motion sickness, apparently. Score two for the Zipper demon. I'm willing to lose.

(By the way, I ended up reading some interesting stuff about the history of The Zipper atthis guy's blog. Pretty interesting stuff.)

Better than a Magic 8 Ball

2006-08-31T18:31:00.000-05:00

Come! See! Let the amazing Salmon divine your future! That's right, step right up (or mouse over to...) to the Soothsaying Salmonand you, too, can find out such gems of wisdom as: "You are someone who enjoys being different...just like millions of other people all over the world. A bowling tournament is in your near future. Dress accordingly."

A Night of NAUSICAA

2006-08-27T19:48:00.000-05:00

Much obliged to Pylgrim X for sharing his remastered copy of Miyazaki's
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. It was a lovely, engrossing story that kept us up late with no regard for the time. I keep thinking back to it, to the glimmering posionous spores of the jungle drifting down like a gorgeous snow of death...to the watercolor washed, insect-like cargo planes that carried the warring tribes of humans above the earth's toxic fumes...to the transcendent relationship that united human and insect, feared and fearful, the dichotomy bridged by a young girl who thought outside the lines. Anyway, it made me want to see more... M. and I saw "Spirited Away" in the theatre and were blown away--methinks it's time to fill our queue on Netflix.

Yes, I would like fries with that...

2006-08-20T19:03:00.000-05:00

Back from vacation and on the way home we stopped in at a little diner (we've been completely hooked on Feasting on Asphalt, which makes me drool for burgers made the old fashioned way)in Mebane, NC... The Blue Ribbon Diner. Dear lord it was good. Old fashioned malts, charcoal chuckburgers smothered in heart attack friendly cheese and crispy bacon... and tender yet decidedly not limp (yay!) french fries. And sweet tea, of course...did I mention it was delicious? The decor made me think of Mel's in Boone... all fifties (but of course)and bustling. The place was packed, and with good reason. Yum.

BOOKS A GO-GO

2006-08-08T21:25:00.000-05:00

1. One book that changed your life?

As a child, my passion for L. M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott (especially A Rose in Bloom) and Frances Hodgson Burnett (A Little Princess was my favorite) made me quite the melodramatic little girl. At 15, I read The Great Gatsby and my love affair with literature began...

2. One book you have read more than once?

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis. Loved it. The whole underground thing fascinated me... and it had all the markings of a somewhat inverted fairy tale, with the beautiful and cruel temptress keeping the lovely boy captive in her lair...

3. One book you would want on a desert island?

Hmmm...I'd have to have something with a lot of authors, like an anthology... something to keep me aware of other view points (and hopefully a good dose of humor!).

4. One book that made you laugh?

I absolutely adored A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. Too funny, and sad, and poignant... laughed until I cried when he was trying to scatter ashes...

5. One book that made you cry?

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Yes. I wept.

6. One book you wish had been written?

A nice book on how to identify ephemera and repair it... I have far too many things that are simply lost to time because everyone has either forgotten or is unavailable to tell me how to use the damn thing.

7. One book you wish had never been written?

Hmmm... There are many that I wish I had never had to read... like The Red Badge of Courage... ugg.

8. One book you are currently reading?

Change Me Into Zeus's Daughter by Barbara Robinette Moss for my book club. So far I'm not really into it. Rather a downer, I'm afraid. There's only so much alcoholic abusive father and dirt poor kids in the south autobiography that one can take.

9. One book you have been meaning to read?

Ahh... too many to count! But I am really interested in finally reading (insert embarrassed grin here) The Power of Myth and tackling Egger's second novel.

10. Now tag five people.

Hmmm. This is hard since I have so few readers, but here goes... I'll tag a few of ya'll, at least... MAC, Matt, and Sissy, have at it. Bonus points to Trev, Bryan, or Brian if they manage to mosey across this post. :)

Coming Clean

2006-08-07T16:21:00.000-05:00

Hmmm. Reality check no. 2,343 provided by adorable 19 month old:

You know you need to sweep when your baby points to a hairball and says, "Eww, Mama..dwirty!" and waits for you to clean it up.

She may be in for a rough road ahead with me as her mother.

What do you get with a glut of tv?

2006-08-02T08:03:00.000-05:00

Okay, time to drag out my not-so-dusty soapbox (and hope that I don't step on any toes in the process...*nervous grin*). M. came home on Monday and directed me to npr for this compelling series on kids and the media. It is definitely worth a listen and a read... especially the excerpt from Consuming Kids and the article on Barbie.
First off, let me state that when it comes to television and babies, I have the entire American Academy of Pediatrics behind me, and I quote: "Until more research is done about the effects of TV on very young children, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) does not recommend television for children age 2 or younger. For older children, the Academy recommends no more than 1 to 2 hours per day of educational, nonviolent programs." In light of that recommendation, I don't know why on earth nearly 1/3 of children 6 and under have a television in their own room. Their own tv!!! Holy crap. I didn't have a tv in my bedroom until I went to COLLEGE!
I do not allow television watching for my kids until they are two. End of story. If you heard the kind of responses that choice elicits, you would think M and I were members of some radical fringe parenting school. Just like any other hot button issue, no one wants to call into question his or her own dependence or overuse of television and would rather hotly justify the status quo viewing habits of the average family than delve into the possible side effects of so much damn tv. Don't get me wrong; you know I love me some soaps and I am quite the Daily Show addict. However, I am an adult with the mental processing in place (I hope) to filter through the endless junk that accompanies my favorite programs. With the average kid viewing between 20,000-40,000 commercials a year (there were conflicting numbers on the aap website), it is hard to argue that television's effect is innocuous.
As for the second npr installment, sexuality and tweens, you simply have to read the article on Barbie's diluted threat. Having had a son first, I went through the humdrum routine of buying passibly attractive outfits for his chubby physique. Now, with my daughter, I am astounded at the full on array of clothes that are available. She can look like a little whore in training before she's even in training pants! Egad. I'm not suggesting that M. and I are going to turn Pentecostal and dress only in modest clothing choices, but I do think it is a bizarre day when OshKosh, purveyors of bib overalls and flannel shirts, sell drop shouldered, sparkly tees with the words "sweetie" emblazoned across the chest.

The Return of the Dark Side...

2006-07-20T12:03:00.000-05:00

Chocolate lovers of the world unite: Dark Chocolate M&M's are being re-released! After guiltily stockpiling them during the whole Revenge of the Sith Star Wars dark side campaign, I can now hold my head up, take my place among the legions of others who devoured mass quantities of the addictive little things, and replenish my stash. Dear Lord they're good... perfect for munching mindlessly whilst reading the paper, tasty mixed with a swig of coffee, and excellent when tossed into a dense brownie recipe.
Sigh. They come in a purple package, so be on the lookout!

Jelly time

2006-07-14T14:11:00.000-05:00

Okay. I just canned three batches of blackberry jelly and I'm here to tell you, I am so glad that I live in modern times. My poor foremothers! I love canning, but I am glad that I don't have to rely on it for survival. The Ball Blue Book logically describes each step of the process, with sterile illustrations and soft focus photos of artfully posed, quilted glass jars of canned jelly. What this idyllic picture leaves out is the rivers of sweat it takes to stand over the stove for three hours, either your hands in very scalding hot water or your face over the steam from the canner... honey, I earn my jelly. It is delicious,though, all warm and slightly tart, a gorgeous deep burgundy... and sure to make me a toast eater for the next while.

It's Plastic! Made from Corn!

2006-07-06T16:45:00.000-05:00

It must be the midwestern girl in me... I was waxing nostalgic about a pen I once devoured (once being a nibbler of pens, a trait that often unknowingly left me with ink stained lips...nice) that was made from corn plastic. Yep, that's right: plastic made from corn instead of oil. So I decided to do a little learnin' on the subject and discovered that you can buy all sorts of nifty crap made from corn plastic... check these silly items out: corn crap!!!
I guess you can get a walkman made from corn, and Versace makes clothes out of a corn polymer that mimics silk... Apparently corn plastic has a long way to go, though. Environmentalists worry that it is made from genetically modified corn, while traditionalists think the products will biodegrade too quickly. Ahh, well. At least we can order corn keggers!

Climb every mountain

2006-06-28T14:32:00.000-05:00

Ahh... is she a sleepwalker or a table dancer? All mama knows is that she keeps me on my toes...

Quest for Optimus

2006-06-19T18:58:00.000-05:00

The things you'll do to see your child's eyes light up... Never in my life did I imagine I would travel to seven stores in search of a toy, but here I am, grown up and admitting it: we are that kind of parents. I know the troubled history of the hotwheels acceleracers rival gangs (a little creepy and adolescent, truly)...much to my chagrin I know crap that I never wanted to know about Pokemon and their evolutions... I know how to finagle legos into all sorts of Star Wars recreations... I know which weapons belong to Flash and how to fit Spiderman into his dorky webglider...and of course, I am now the mother who can reattach Starscream's foot or find the elusive Leobreaker's tail (note to Hasbro: make those damn things stay on!). That's it, people... my son is a Transformers devotee. Of course, his Daddy made him that way, bequeathing him a rather sizable collection before he was old enough to start saving his own money for a fleet of autobots.

But before you think he's terribly spoiled, let me tell you the backstory: Little one gets an allowance every week, which he has been squirreling away for months, doing extra jobs and selling toys in a yard sale, all to save for the 40 dollar Cybertron Optimus Prime. This weekend he counted his money and lo and behold, he had enough, even to cover tax! So we headed down to Target to reinforce his good lesson of saving for what you want instead of blowing your money on less desirable crap (gee, I wish I could learn that lesson!), only to discover that there was not an Optimus in sight... so we drove to Walmart. Then another Target. Then another Target. Then another Walmart (I think you get the picture). Not even Toys R Us had it, and Amazon said it was no longer available... turns out it's been discontinued, to make way for some new crappy paint job and umpteenth reissue in August.

But... all is not lost! We enlisted Gramma in the search and wouldn't you know it, she found it on the first try. It was kind of anticlimactic, really. Here we were all tired out from our Transformers Quest and she waltzes into the store and finds it first thing. Geez.

Southern Fried

2006-06-04T11:27:00.000-05:00

Kudos to Grace for turning us on to our latest obsession: Paula's Home Cooking on Food Network. Sigh... There is nothing like watching someone who loves to eat make really decadent, sinful stuff that she then eats in front of you, complete with smacking lips and joyful abandon. Paula Deen is utterly divine. Consider our recent viewing, in which she made deep fried hungry jack biscuits, mixed up a squirt bottle of honey butter, and injected those little fat laden lovelies until they were fairly bursting with delicious, gooey sauce... YUM. Those were snacks, mind you... she made a trip to Krispy Kreme and then concocted a bread pudding out of 2 dozen chopped up glazed doughnuts, fruit cocktail, raisins, and sweetened condensed milk. After baking, she topped it with a sticky mass of creamy icing made from rum and powdered sugar... because you know those doughnuts weren't sweet enough, ya'll. Hee.

I. loves it. He loves to watch cooking shows with Mama, and so we park ourselves in front of truly southern Paula and throw calories to the wind. Now I'm thinking we may have to make a pilgrimage to Savannah...

Wheels Churning

2006-05-25T21:12:00.000-05:00

Busy, busy, busy... for whatever reason the creativity bug has bitten me once more and I am twitching like a taut wire to get started on my various projects in waiting... There are yard chairs to be painted, walls to be patched and primed, and recipes to try. Sometimes it is as if the world unfolds anew, with a different view that transforms the everyday into possibility... simply put, I'm out of my slump.
Now, if I could just stay focused on one thing rather than flitting about with nervous energy, trying my hand here and there...

Friends of P and a little Goethe thrown in

2006-05-16T08:03:00.000-05:00

Okay... for all you squeamish stomachs out there, I thought I'd move along to a new topic. Right now I'm currently waxing nostalgic over Matt Sharp and his recent announcement that The Rentals are reforming, putting on concerts, and will record a new album... ! Ahh, sweetness (and tenderness!)... Matt's solo stuff, quite frankly, sucked... I mean, Visions of Anna did make me cry but come on, man... his long, painfully slow and somber music was so melancholy even I couldn't get into it. It was, however, useful on car trips for putting the kiddos to sleep. Hee.
In other music adventures, I finally picked up a Belle and Sebastian album (their latest,The Life Pursuit) and I love it, love it... Quite a fun album, with plenty of 70's references and clever phrasing...
As for reading, I just finished The Sorrows of Young Werther and now I'm thinking I'll finally read Faust in its entirety... this is what happens when you start picking books off the shelf and thinking, "What? I've still not read this? I've only had it for say, TEN YEARS???!"
And in my tv junkiedom--Denny died! I mean, we knew he was going to, but man... how I love serial drama.

Salary, you say?

2006-05-05T12:09:00.000-05:00

Keep on dreaming, ladies...

Here's a handy little tool from Salary.com to calculate a stay at home mom's income (assuming that one were paid for all the things she does at home and around the community): the-you-must-be- dreaming-fantasy income for the SAHM can be found here.
Speaking of being a stay at home mother, I got up this morning to a crib full of black bean poo. Ewww. Somehow, Miss S. had gotten fecal matter everywhere--including her hair. Talk about the moments when you wish you could have some financial compensation! Suffice it to say, it was a major feat simply getting her out of the crib, relatively wiped down, and into the tub without me getting covered in the foul stuff myself. BLEH.

Ahh well. Nothing like cleaning crap off a crib to make you think seriously about birth control. Hee. Honestly, most of the time I enjoy the decision I've made but there are times where I'd like to have a day off... or have a paycheck of my own to blow (okay, it would probably go to bills, but if this is fantasy, let me fantasize!).

Holy Sex Toys, Batman!!!

2006-04-26T20:09:00.000-05:00

Feeling stuck in a rut? Tired of the same old, same old... looking for a new twist on your Judeo-Christian sex life? Then have I got a site for you! As their tagline reads:

"Products and Advice celebrating God's fantastic gift of sex within Christian marriage,"

www.WhollyLove.co.uk offers all sorts of goodies, perfect for spicing up your ho-hum humdrum bedroom antics. Ahem. I'll leave the finer points to your perusal... (link courtesy of Rebecca's Pocket)

HAPPY EASTER (and chocolate gorging, be it as it may)

2006-04-12T09:58:00.000-05:00

Okay... just a quick note to wish you and yours a Happy Easter (or happy fertile springtime, all you pagans)... I wish you many peeps in your basket and chocolate by the handfuls. In honor of the holiday, you can look again at The Fellowship of the Peeps (see marshmallow peeps reenact LOTR scenes!) or consider making a swanky dessert that will impress all your friends... chocolate fondue with marshmallow peeps for dipping. Yum.

Drink Up!

2006-04-05T14:04:00.000-05:00

Could it be... that aspartame is not as evil as we once thought? Please, please let it be true! I am lovin' me some Diet Cherry Vanilla Coke as of late... and my fruity-tangy-efferevescent romance with Fresca has always been tinged with the shameful guilt of *gulp* just how dang artificial it is. Of course, now Fresca comes in THREE (count 'em!) flavors, and has a slick little webpage, graced with Stacy London (of What not to Wear, which I adore and watch religiously albeit with periods of paganism when I turn instead to The Secret Life of... or Unwrapped... how I love to watch perfect little lines of food make their way down conveyor belts and slip under curtains of chocolate or glaze or whatnot in the enrober....sigh) in a Fresca-esque outfit and a ridiculous game thing where you can create your very own frescascape...and though I have questions for why one would want to...I created one anyway. Pretty dull, honestly. Watching citrus slices float over a desert landscape is not exactly something I crave or understand, to be honest. Still... it's fricking FRESCA, man!!! Now, with NOT CANCER CAUSING ASPARTAME! *sigh*

Anyway, in other news, our stove died and I'm currently cooking with a bit of hope, prayer, and a trusty little match. Ugg. Hopefully I won't ignite the entire kitchen before the weekend, when we get the arduous task of finding a new stove that has all the high end features I want without the high end price tag. Dang I hate having champagne tastes! Right now, though, I'd settle for a stove that won't blow our house up. It's the little things, eh?

Tissues and Tea...

2006-03-24T13:35:00.000-05:00

Okay... I've been drowning in sinus nastiness for weeks now, and it seems to have affected my brain. Formulating complete thoughts is a struggle, and simply schlepping from the couch to the computer has been enough to wear me out. Ugg. I've been on a bit of a 1950's kick, what with reading The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio and perusing an old McCall's magazine (one ad reads, eat something baker made EVERY meal! with pictures of tasty doughnuts, danishes, pound cake, etc. above it... oh how I wish we still lived in a time that called sugar and eggs wholesome and good for you!).

In other news, my sister's kids spent the night last night and everyone was well rested and rowdy this morning. I stepped into the living room in my robe, lectured them on being quiet, and ended the sentence with something about not wanting to hear any more of their brouhaha. I could see the wheels turning in the oldest's head--he was mentally storing that funny word away for use at another time. Ahh, how my sister and I are creating little verbal geeks, like it or not.

Off to make a pot of tea and stave off my inevitable desire to demolish the last of the brownies... for some reason, no matter how incapable of taste or smell I may be, chocolate never loses its allure. *SIGH*