Easter Egg

A few years back the employee committee at the seed lab thought it would be fun to have an egg decorating contest. You know, celebrate spring and Easter and our various artistic talents as well as sponsor a general sense of rabid competition among the staff. This was my offering. Needless to say, I did not win. I thought a decorated fried egg would be an interesting twist on the traditional decorated egg. But a true artist is never recognized while they are still alive. Sigh. 

Joy of Phenethylamine

It's a very, very, very extremely fine line that exists between the big romantic gesture and stalking. I expect the difference is determined by whether or not a restraining order is involved. Love is, after all, a form of insanity. One that is celebrated in movies, writing, and song. Let's all have some chocolate and at least feel like we're in love.

It's a Boy!

On another Easter weekend, twenty-five years ago, we found ourselves in Wisconsin. It was the end of a two week road trip that had included the states of North Carolina and the cities of Washington, DC and Atlanta, Georgia and many points in between. I know it was twenty-five years ago. I was pregnant. It was the dark days, boys and girls, we knew not the sex of our nascent child. Luckily for us, our then 8yo niece Megan had devised her own method of divining this information. She approached me with a grin on her face, an impish gleam in her eyes and her hands behind her back. Stopping just in front of my enormous belly she extended her closed hands toward me and instructed me to choose. So I did. Megan rotated her fist and her fingers opened like a flower, revealing a Hershey's chocolate kiss wrapped in blue foil. That means your baby is a boy, she announced with fervent authority. In her other hand was a pink foil wrapped kiss, that had I chosen it would have indicated I was carrying a girl in my womb. Three months later Michael was born. I still have the blue kiss. Megan recently became a mother herself for the first time. Earlier this month Miriam Catherine was born. I really should send a pink kiss in honor of her arrival. It only seems fitting.

Milestone

First jean jacket day of the spring! Hello, faded blue denim jacket! It's been a long winter. I have missed you.

Music For a Full Moon Night

I know, I know, Lucinda Williams wrote it. But MCC, as far as I'm concerned, delivers the definitive performance. Let's all go out and howl at the moon!

Full Moon Wednesday

1. Met with my insurance lady this afternoon. The good news is, Reid will be 21 in two months and his car insurance rate drops. Considerably. Yessssss!

2. I made my bed today. 

3. I seriously love this basement tape a friend gave to me. Of him playing along with a friend of his in the mid-70's. It's cd in format, but was actually recorded in a basement on a reel-to-reel.

4. If any of you don't know what a reel-to-reel is, you may be too young to be consuming the content here.

5. Black Box chardonnay is very delicious. Buttery and fruity. 

6. Referring to item 5, yes, delicious wine can now be found packaged in a box. Deal with it.

7. I may have made the absolutely best chicken alfredo ever in my life tonight. 

8. The chicken alfredo not only contains a cup of the Black Box chardonnay, the wine is also a wonderful accompaniment to it.

9. For the first time in this long, drawn out lawsuit process, a collection agency called me this evening. I referred him to my lawyer. It was fun.

10. Come on over for a glass of chardonnay and the best alfredo ever. Really. I'll pause The West Wing. Just for you.

Excuse #54

Ever so sorry, I was not able to make my bed this morning. I suppose I could have later but I remained so completely overwhelmed by the memory of lounging kitties that I simply could not do it even though they had moved. At this point it would just be silly to make up the bed since I'll be returning to it soon. Tomorrow is another day.
    

You're Welcome!

Landing in my GMail inbox recently was a resounding Thank You! from Midwest Living magazine. For my order of two issues of their publication. I don't remember ordering two issues of Midwest Living even though they were priced quite reasonably at half a cent each. What a relief to know that my bill is paid in full. They say I should keep the email for important information contained in it, like my account number. Am I sleep-surfing the internet for bargain priced periodicals? I'm going to blame it on the cats for now. 

Namesake

Okay, so Ty, Inc didn't actually name her after me. But it would seem that my whining over having no one or anything cool bearing my name, often not even a souvenir keychain, filtered down into some creative person's psyche. Because here she is, teenie Beanie Bopper Caring Carla. I've had her for at least ten years, her tiny heart shaped tag says her birthday is October 10 but no year is divulged. As far as I'm concerned, they didn't get her hair color correct. I never have been nor ever likely shall be a blonde. But they did get the wacky curls right, of this I most heartily approve. I did do a little body modification on her right away, though. I pierced her ears. Three on the left and two on the right, just like moi. I do like that she's wearing pink. And that she's clearly a star. Caring Carla. Reminding me that I don't have to be the jaded lady all the time. Definitely some of the time. But not all. One more thing. No freaking way am I a Libra.

Ponderable

I believe this would fall under the heading we shall refer to as Reading Too Much Into This But Maybe Not, Oy Vey Iz Mir. I can't promise you will find this tidbit of information the least bit interesting. But it has occurred to me. So I'm sharing it. This is what y'all show up for, right? Oy. 

The person who heartily encouraged me to join Facebook to begin with is the one and very same person whose actions caused me to take a vacation from said social networking website.

No Tonsils, Please

How can I possibly dislike spam when Anonymous wishes me a very awesome holiday penis advantage Saturday or Sunday. I have no idea what this means but I must say I am mostly supportive of what sounds like a pleasant yet decadent activity that involves a holiday, the weekend and a penis. With any luck the penis is attached to someone I am attracted to as well as like. No others need apply. Advantage goes to the man who shows up with pastry. Preferably an orange scone (ala Panera), chocolate croissant or pie. If the pie is sour cream raisin you will be immediately disqualified. This is much too much to process before breakfast.

Just for clarification, what follows is the entirety of the comment left on yesterday's post, sans links. And for those of you who are not up on your German, lesezeichen means bookmark.  

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Living Dangerously

Good morning, Vernal Equinox. Come on in. It is 2 degrees outside. To celebrate spring, I'm going out with wet hair. 

Rewind

Last night Reid and I were discussing time travel. Alternate time lines and other possibilities to right wrongs or to go back and get another shot at getting something right. I assured him he is young and he has time to explore many possibilities. And that no one in their right mind wants to redo high school. Seriously. Then he said, what if we could go back to before your hands got hurt. Yes. Indeed. If only.

Three Weeks, Three Days

1. As the title indicates, I have been Facebook free for three weeks and this is the third day of the fourth week. 

2. Withdrawal symptoms from this Facebook free interlude have completely subsided.

3. Considering item 2, I suppose I could go back any time I want to. That is, if I want to.

4. I played foosball for the very first time on Friday night. 

5. I was pretty good at foosball.

6. Further consideration of item 5 means I had consumed some alcohol. Enough so my hands felt normal.

7. I swiped a Kyle Knutson poster on my way out of the Old Market. 

8. Referring to item 7, it's not like they were going to reuse them, they were dated, for heaven's sake, so I felt a certain duty in taking one home with me.

9. Yes, since you asked, I do have a collection of swiped posters.

10. And yes again as to whether any of them are autographed.

Plumb Good Advice

This is not the sort of bathtub faucet you want. Trust me. Wrong, wrong, wrong type of controls! The knobs are a no, no, no thank you.

This definitely is the sort of bathtub faucet you want. Because when you're lounging back in a tubfull of fragrant, steamy bubbles, you don't want to have to sit up and slide forward to adjust the water flow or temperature.

You absolutely do want to be able to make those adjustments with your toes. Yes, I know this is unbelievably lazy. But soaking in the tub is all about relaxation and laziness and decadence. This is its purpose! Particularly if you have a glass of wine sitting on the edge of the tub. We know if you were all in a hurry and efficient, you'd be taking a shower anyway.

VultureCat

Einstein displaying his remarkable ability to perch his little fanny pretty much anywhere. Here he sits atop the scratching post. Probably waiting for his brother to wander by. So he can swipe at Newton's tail. As my Mom would say, pee in a bottle, shit in a hat. 

Bloomin' Cactus

This series of photos following the progress of my cactus in bloom was taken over a period of two weeks with the final one taken earlier today. Around the end of November it set dozens of buds but none of them opened. Each day I'd check on it and one by one the tiny pink buds dried up and dropped off. Then just a little over a month ago this solitary gigantic bud appeared. And it has opened! While I've been watching my hoya with great scrutiny, it seems that there will be no blossoms again this year. In years past it was covered with flowers for most of the month of March and then a second bloom toward the middle of the summer. While I'm a little disappointed that feeling didn't last for long while observing this beautiful flower slowly open its petals. Down in the basement we have a riot of blooms on all three New Guinea Impatiens plants as well a couple of surprise lavender flowers popping up on the vinca vine. The Vernal Equinox may not arrive until this Wednesday, but it feels like spring in the house!

3.14

Not doing my usual pi day celebration today. I know, I've adopted this orphan holiday to spread cheer with pies I have baked. But this year it seemed more like I would spread disease rather than cheer so I'm playing it safe. Though, yes, thank you, I am feeling better today. Much better. I might even feel somewhere near normal in another couple of days. While I continue on this mending trend, enjoy pi(e) from the past, though not necessarily pi day pie. 

ThreeOneThreeOneThree

I love today's date. 3-13-13. It's a numerical palindrome. 31313. It looks prettier without the pesky dashes. 31313. You're also more likely to pronounce it threeonethreeonethree instead of threethirteenthirteen. Which is slightly musical, if in a siren-ish sort of way. Which is actually a good thing, unless you happen to be a hapless sailor lured into certain peril by the Siren's haunting song. Threeonethreeonethree! Say it out loud! Sing it! You know you want to.

Pain Management

I'm pretty sure I have bruised cartilage in the area of my right lower ribs. I remember what this feels like from the time when I crashed on my bike when I was twelve or so and took the handlebars in the ribs. Though this time it's the result of my nasty cough. It hurts. To cough. Laugh. Sneeze. If I have enough warning that any of these things is about to occur, I have found that hugging my right thigh firmly against my rib cage and abdomen almost completely alleviates the pain. I am grateful for the degree of flexibility I possess that makes this work. Although I feel a little silly for dropping into what looks like an obscure yoga position for no ascertainable reason at a moment's notice. Not to outdo my dear mother, who actually broke a rib from severe coughing. This happened about thirty years ago when she was suffering from a bronchial infection that was on the verge of pneumonia. I'm not sure, but she may have quit smoking for a couple of days. I'm pretty certain that Jack Daniels was part of her pain management tool kit. I've never had a problem with medicinally purposed substances that also possess entertainment value. Pardon me while I check the tequila supply.
  

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Seriously, if I drink one more cup of this herb tea with honey I will absolutely barf! Bring me pizza and beer! If I start behaving like a well person I will be a well person! Really. But I'd like to keep the Sudafed and my blanky for one more day. Thank you.

Feeling Flu-ish

I don't do this sick thing well. That sounds odd. I doubt that anyone does. Or that anyone enjoys it. The thing is, except for this dumb thing with my hands, I'm pretty darn healthy. Robust, even. I swear I haven't been sick like this for five years. And this is the third time this winter my fanny has been seriously kicked by some nasty virus. Just over a week was dedicated to a tummy thing in December. Then in January a severe cold had me resting in bed for a day or two. February was infection free, but only lasted 28 days. As soon as March rolled in I was losing my voice for three days followed by me living in a Sudafed induced haze since Friday. I'm staying hydrated and have been on a West Wing viewing marathon. As soon as I'm feeling better I'm disinfecting the whole house. 

Springing Forward

1. Welcome to day 16 of my Facebook absence. I thought I might go back today except for the fact that the spring forward into DST has already robbed me of an hour today.

2. The only reason I knew the time switch happened was because when I woke up the time on my alarm clock and cell phone did not match.

3. Momentarily confused by item 2, I remembered that my cell phone automatically takes care of these little adjustments.

4. Since I'm still a bit discombobulated over item 2, it was clear that my newest blog post needed to be a list of unrelated yet mildly interesting thoughts.

5. As far as item 4 is concerned, me labeling this post as unrelated items was slightly premature, seeing that so far they all  have to do with the time change.

6. Surprisingly, spell check liked the word discombobulated. 

7. The second half of my bacon-mushroom-cheeseburger from last night made a lovely breakfast.

8. My voice is mostly functional once more though it retains a hint of frogginess.

9. I won't miss this cough if it ever goes away.

10. Again referring to item 4, mildly interesting was an overly optimistic goal.

Call Me CJ

It's the last few episodes of season three of The West Wing. CJ Cregg is on the receiving end of death threats from some maniac who wears a heavy overcoat in May. She is assigned one Simon Donovan, Secret Service Special Agent, to ensure her personal safety. Special Agent Donovan is played by cutie-pie blue eyed Mark Harmon. While there is nothing the least bit romantic about death threats, I would be most happy, if not ecstatic, to allow Mark Harmon to shadow me throughout the day. Or night if necessary. So. Call me CJ. Which is, after all, accurate. Even if all I'm suffering from is a hangnail. 

Cosmo Cosmos

Last night I entered the Cosmo Cosmos for a brief couple of hours. It was heavenly and delicious. Not to mention the health benefits of that splash of cranberry juice in each and every cocktail. But I expect I will not be going back any time soon. Upon waking this morning I was reminded with a certain vengeance that vodka gives me one mean freaking headache. I can't remember the last time I drank vodka, probably over twenty years ago. Damn. I can tell you with Absolut(e) certainty that there are at least a couple of things I would vastly prefer to wake up with than a raging vodka induced headache. While the Advil settles in, I shall be mourning the fact that I shall never return to the Cosmo Cosmos. It was lovely while it lasted.

iWant My iTunes

I dropped off my old mostly dead laptop with the professional geeks once again last week. Because I couldn't locate my iTunes library amongst the information gleaned from my hard drive, now downloaded to an external hard drive for my convenience. I really hope it's there. Because I have about five billion cd's uploaded into it. And I simply do not have the patience to accomplish that particular task again. At least not tonight I don't. So let's hope that bright and early tomorrow morning when I plug in that cute little gadget that I find my iTunes rather than merely the desktop icon that was a link to it. But if I must reconstruct the darn thing, I suppose that's what I could be doing with the hour I'm not on Facebook every day. You'd think I would learn that if gleeful feelings in January over being under budget led to expensive computer fixes that maybe being smug over gaining some time every day while absent from Facebook might just lead to repeating a time sucking task screaming at me to be accomplished. Well! Screw losing this last seven pounds so I'll look fabulous in my Liz Claiborne Petites sundress I want to wear for that wedding the first week in May! I'll be eating cookies. Thank you.

Spider Insider

It is with no small amount of trepidation that I return to this room and sit at this desk. Last night I vacated so swiftly I didn't shut down my computer. Out of the corner of my eye I spied the biggest freaking spider I've seen in this basement. Ever. It appeared out of nowhere and was creeping about on a stack of notebooks just to the left of where my computer sits. Then it disappeared. So I left and came back armed with the vacuum cleaner and a small plastic cup. If the little eight-legged bastard is too close to other small objects that I consider too valuable to be vacuumed into oblivion, which is my preferred method of dispatching marauding arachnids, my second choice is to pop a plastic cup over him creating a tiny spider jail cell. The spider has not returned. But he could be lurking anywhere. I stand, or actually sit, ready! If you ask me, this is a job for Newton and Einstein. But they're napping upstairs. I hate spiders. Maybe I just need to find that old lady who swallowed the fly and ask her if she's ready for the second course.
    

The Great Lamp Shuffle

It all started when I found this navy blue lamp shade on clearance at World Market on Saturday. I thought it would work on a specific lamp at home, but it didn't. Turns out it works beautifully on this lamp, which used to be downstairs topped with a fancy red shade. Of course, this bumped the lamp that used to be on this table to another spot. 

This is the fancy red shade that used to be on the lamp that is now wearing the new navy blue shade. This lamp used to have an ivory fringy shade and was in the corner of the living room. So much better in my bedroom! As you'll soon see, the lamp that was formerly in this spot has moved downstairs.

This is the lamp that was bumped from the sofa table by the navy shaded lamp and is now in the corner of the living room where the lamp now in my bedroom used to be. Isn't this fun?

Now we're downstairs. The lamp in the top photo used to be here, wearing the fancy red shade. Now this lamp, which got bumped from the table at the bottom of the stairs, is in the same room as its matching one! 

See? Isn't this special? Really, there are two of them. I didn't just photograph the same lamp in two different spots to mess with you. Really!

This little black iron lamp used to be in my bedroom, but I think it looks a lot better here with this metallic framed mirror just above it. Also here we find the fancy fringy shade that used to be on the lamp currently in my bedroom now with the red shade that used to be on the table in the corner of the living room. It's an orphan lamp shade now. Don't be sad. This fancy fringy shade is much too, well, fancy and fringy to stay out of commission for long. I'm so glad I got this out of my system. This way I won't even consider rearranging the furniture any time soon.

Joy of Laryngitis

There is either a very tiny ho(a)rse or a plethora of frogs that has taken up residence near my voice box. Rendering it nearly impossible for moi to utter much of anything that can be understood. I have resorted to orange spice herb tea with honey and the restorative powers of chicken soup. Please text rather than call for the next couple of days. Thank you.

Day 9

Welcome to the ninth day of my self-imposed Facebook hiatus. I miss it a little, but it's not horrible. Not like the dreaded caffeine withdrawal headache that darkens your door when you give up coffee. I feel a bit of a kinship with those more pious than me as this is the Lenten season. Where people give up things they love as an act of sacrifice hoping they'll learn something from the conscious denial of pleasure. I had a friend who regularly gave up sourkraut for Lent. But she didn't love sourkraut. So she didn't suffer. Kind of missing the whole point but she was dead serious about it. Maybe Methodist Lent is different that way. I must say I don't love Facebook so this isn't an enormous sacrifice on my part, either. I think I have regained something over an hour each day but I can't say I use it wisely or in any constructive manner. I do enjoy how easy it is to stay in contact with many people, and the pages I have liked provide links to news stories that interest me. I expect I'll stay away for another week but probably not in excess of a month. My hope is that it will be fun again after some time away. Funny how one incident of a friend meddling where they ought not can alter your outlook. But I have always felt that relationships of any kind are like that. You can go on for years and years sometimes and things remain pleasant. And then there's that one day when something happens that makes you question your ties to another person. Maybe it's a dealbreaker, maybe it's just the first straw that eventually devolves into the last. Nothing lasts forever. So I think it's imperative that we spend the time we do have with those whose company is a positive, enriching and joyous experience. And that applies to Facebook as well as the real world.

Mmmmmm! B Haskett

Mimosas. Yes. With crepes. I love brunch. And while seconds on the mimosa is just a little bit excessive, one and one third each is just perfect. That's AndiBean demonstrating her expert pouring skills. 

Me in the middle of the AndiGirls, with a baguette. Let's go shopping, now, shall we? Saturday always flies by much too quickly.