McForrest Gumpfly

In my ongoing effort to educate the younger son by exposing him to the finest in film comedies, earlier this week we viewed Back to the Future. I forgot how funny it is! As well as how eminently quotable. There were several times when we looked at each other with weird facial expressions over the plot point concerning Marty meeting up with the teenage version of his mother. Director and co-writer Robert Zemeckis handled this tricky near incestuous encounter with deft comic timing and sensitivity. Otherwise Reid and I would likely have been squirming in discomfort rather than laughing. Last night I was reminded during the opening credits of Forrest Gump that Zemeckis helmed this film as well. Interesting that both movies examine the intricacies of the mother/son relationship, a rich and layered familial tie that isn't mined for cinematic exposition often enough. But I say that as a mother of sons so I may not be entirely objective on this point. Watch these movies anyway. Even if you're not a mother. 
  

Stats

As if I weren't amazed enough by the fortune cookie post topping out at just over 130 views, it appears that sixty of you have perused my profile in the last three weeks. Maybe I should make myself sound more interesting. Pad my profile with fancier facts. As if that would fool anyone who reads regularly. Best to stick to the accurate and oh so fascinating details of my enviable life. Like tree foofing. And cat pictures. 

The Foofed and the Unfoofed

As you can see, there is a great deal of difference between the foofed tree, on the left, as if I needed to specify, and the unfoofed tree on the right.

The two larger trees have been suitably foofed at this point, leaving just the smallest of the tree-o unfoofed.

A fully foofed tree-o awaiting lights and shiny things. to complicate matters, this set of trees arrived pre-lit. With clear lights. Meaning the pre-lit feature, which I did not want but paid for, had to be removed. Which means that I now have three additional strings of clear lights available for use. I'm not complaining, okay, well I sort of am, but I got the trees for such a ridiculously low price I won't complain loudly and vigorously and unendingly. Not even if you are entertained by such carryings on. The foofing process was rendered much less tedious by having Forrest Gump playing in the background. And that's all I have to say about that.

Prime!

It seems that there are other people out there who are obsessed with oddball and interesting numerical thingys. Like this guy. I wonder if he bakes pie on March 14th. I really must get back to tree foofing.

Throwaway

I'll be honest with you. This post is something of a throwaway. I am behind on my commitment to blog in what averages out to be on a daily basis. In an effort to be disciplined, I have told myself that I may not under any circumstances be allowed to indulge in the earliest bits of Christmas decorating until I catch up on blogging! And y'all know how much I enjoy holiday decorating. In an odd twist, I have listened to myself and am complying with my own demands. I can be such a bitch sometimes. Pardon me, I am off to foof* some trees.

*Foof is a word that describes the activity of fluffing out the branches on squished-down-for-storage artificial holiday greenery. I'm certain foof has other suitable applications but this is what I'm doing now. Foofing trees. Feel free to use this word in your own holiday decorating activities. This is how the dictionary grows. 

Homey Notes

After months of setbacks and all kinds of necessary property improvements and delays, I am happy to announce that son Michael and Darling DiL Liz have taken up residence in their new home! They are no longer apartment dwellers! By Sunday they will have internet access and I shall be taken on a video tour. This is going to be so much fun. On a completely different note, son Reid is serenading me on the ukulele. And whistling along. He has tuned it in the manner of a rearranged banjo. I love how my life is odd and entertaining at the same time.

The Other Pie Day

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. My contribution to dinner was pie. Pecan and classic pumpkin. And wine. Not wine pie, I also brought wine. And in a wise move that could become a tradition, some of us had pie before dinner. Just in case we might find ourselves too full to appreciate dessert after turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes & gravy, scalloped corn, green beans and buns. Dessert first. Something I am thankful for.

Thank You, Mr. Tyson

I'm pretty sure he wasn't an English major. But this does not exclude him from brilliant wordsmithing! Now that the season is upon us, allow me to share Neil deGrasse Tyson's take on those who might be offended when wished happy holidays...  

"Holiday derives from Holy Day. So it's etymologically under-informed to assert that Happy Holidays does not reference God."

This isn't rocket science, people! It's common sense. And me being in agreeance with him on this particular point has nothing to do with my mild crush on him. And if you choose to be offended by such minor little details of life, how are you going to know what you might actually ought to expend the effort and energy to be genuinely offended by? When someone truly has insulted you! I don't know about you, but I think that existing in a state of perpetual indignation would be exhausting. Lighten up. Oh, and Happy Holidays!

Daisy, Daisy

This is Daisy. Miss Pam gave her to me. I honestly didn't know her name was Daisy until just this moment when I typed it. Here she is looking all mysterious with low mood lighting.

And here she is with more light showing off those baby blues. And, no, I'm not buying her a bicycle built for two. She's only a head, for heaven's sake. Isn't that just like a cat, though, expecting her staff to do all the work. And her eyes kinda follow me around the room. I can just tell I'm going to sleep well tonight.

I've Scene it All, But Was Probably Paying More Attention to the Dialog, Or Maybe Just Looking at John Cusack

To answer a recently noticed comment question here, I actually don't know. Part of me feels as though I should be able to pop right up with it. It's in my brain somewhere, people, or I have wasted probably half a day of my life with repeat viewings of this most favorite movie for nothing. It's in my top five. Seriously. I'll likely blow another 113 minutes of my life watching it again. Probably sooner than later. And share the answer. 

Fortunate

I continue to be astonished. And mystified and amazed. This post is showing more than a hundred views. Apparently I should ponder over the meaning of fortune cookie fortunes more often.

New Oil for Old!

Like I always say, the best kind of oil change is a free oil change. Who can argue with that. Well, okay, maybe a free oil change at the 3 Stooges Garage might not be such a good idea. And what's the best thing to do while your free oil change is underway? Have lunch with Jill at Tre, of course. Especially when she picks you up and brings you back. Then I drove off with fresh oil coursing through my Outback's engine. A Friday afternoon just doesn't get much better than this.

Butterflies, Orchids and Frogs, Oh My!

I know you are sharp and on top of things all the time, so you may already have noticed that these photos are of butterflies and orchids. No frogs.

The frogs got an earlier post all to themselves. Please forgive the title, sometimes I'm just on a roll and have abandoned any semblance of self control I normally possess. These were all taken in the butterfly house at the Tucson Botanical Garden. And yes, the butterflies in the third photo are doing precisely what you think they are doing. I'm now engaging in the production of butterfly porn. Shocking. I can't speak as to what they may have been eating. As for me, I swear I'll never eat Chili Cheese Fritos again. Unless I end up doing what the butterflies are doing. Then they shall become a staple of my diet. Just to clarify, the Fritos, not the butterflies. 

More Pics From My Tucson Trip

Bear and Blink wait patiently for a drink.

Advice from a snake could be wise to take.

Art on a wall for appreciation from all.

Fond I have grown of this bench made of stone.

 A garden statue saint, remember his name I just cain't.

She looks to the sky, for what reason I know not why.

And now look who couldn't help but do it, too.

A fountain with tile. We stopped for a while.

Stained glass, see here, with my sisters about!

And now, so you see, just the glass, sisters without.

Blink. Napping in the sink.

I apologize for the abysmally bad rhyming. The first one was a completely random thing and then I just could not stop myself. This is what happens when you eat Chili Cheese Fritos for dinner. I can't wait to see what sort of dreams I experience tonight.

Fortunate, Chinese or Otherwise

Either some freakish adbot has taken a liking to this post or it is actually so popular it has had over 60 viewings since it published! This is double the traffic I normally get for a post so I find this bit of news pretty darn exciting. I can just feel a book deal offer out there. Personally, I remain clueless as to what sort of subject matter attracts so many views. I just randomly write about what is on my mind at the moment. And as it often goes, when I think I'm being really clever and click on publish with a gleam in my eye, traffic is low and not a single comment is generated. Even if I somehow knew what y'all wanted, I'm not the pandering sort. If it's a day when I feel like posting adorable cat pics that's precisely what I will do. And totally inadvertently drive you away. I know. It's a gift. Never question a gift.

Edna's Garden

In the old days, children, when the Tucson Botanical Garden was a family home and business, a woman named Edna worked for the family. She helped care for the family's three daughters and grew a herb and vegetable garden. This potting shed has been preserved in her memory. So it was only fitting that my sisters and I posed for a photo here in memory of our mother, also named Edna. 

And this is mom and me on a much earlier visit to the TBG. It was on this outing that I learned of Edna's garden. Mom always complained that her name was seldom used in songs or much else in a flattering manner. And she was never a gardener, I inherited my brownish thumb directly from her. But she liked the idea of a garden with her name on it. So do I.

Lost in Translation

Or, the dubious wisdom contained inside a Chinese fortune cookie. I know, these little slips of paper rarely contain more than the obvious and mundane, so expectations are not high. Okay, expectations are low to middling. Which, coincidentally, is where my personal expectations are for the food quality at your average, midwestern college town Chinese all-day buffet. But the fortune my son brought home last evening and shared with me is just plain inscrutable.

When the moment comes, take the one from the right.

A little context would be helpful. Are we talking being assailed by ninjas in a dark alleyway and how to best defend yourself? take the one from the right Perhaps a method to choose which door the million bucks is behind on a game show? take the one from the right Are we talking right as opposed to left handed? Right as opposed to left politically? Right as opposed to wrong morally? Right-side-up as opposed to upside-down? As far as I'm concerned, there are too many options for this sage advice to be the least bit helpful. Taking a look at the flip side of the fortune, we have an opportunity to learn the Chinese word for dish. And we have Lucky Numbers. Which aren't in ascending numerical order, which sort of bugs me. 54, 20, 21, 17, 11, 19. To simplify, when asked anything today, even if a numerical response isn't appropriate or reasonable, I'm saying 19. take the one from the right Don't begin to try to take advantage of this situation by approaching me and asking how many vacations I will finance for you or how many drinks I will buy you or for how many years will I agree to be your indentured servant. The statute of limitations on this offer expires in 19 minutes.

Verdict: Treasure

If it may please the court, I am an idiot. Reparations have been made and trust has been restored. Still, I must admit that what I wrote yesterday was heartfelt and pretty damn eloquent. At the same time, I'm not a bottom line kind of girl. Meaning that the end does not always justify the means. In retrospect I would prefer to have been heartfelt and eloquent without the being an idiot part. I accept and embrace the fact that sometimes a window to greater grokking is given an assist in getting wrenched open by a little unpleasantness. I am, after all, a work in progress. I make every effort not to do the same dumb thing more than once. Usually not twice. Please, don't even begin to go to three times. I like to find new dumb things to do. Facilitating new and different learning opportunities that I can then write about. Sometimes eloquently. I just know that's why y'all show up here.

Trash or Treasure?

Even when you don't know someone terribly well, and when I say you I mean me, there is a certain familiar something that you establish together, and it is as unique as the two individuals involved. There is a phrase I use to describe the interactions between two people that result in a sort of bond, and I call that bond the we of you and I. It occurs in all sorts of relationships. Friendship, romantic involvement, familial ties, business and organizational associations. Regardless of the depth, from the expedient and superficial to soul deep sharing, one thing is clear. When one of the individuals has violated the bond, the result can be painful and confusing. Destructive even. What can hide safely within a text message is laid bare face to face. The body language, the eyes, the tone of voice. Something is awry. All you know is that something has changed and you're not sure what. Or why. And wonder if the rift can be repaired, or if that work is worth the effort. Sometimes it seems all too fragile, but maybe the reality is that the we of you and I is more resilient than I might think. I'm drawing no conclusions at this hour. Maybe tonight was a betrayal that will leave this nascent duprass dead in the water. Regrettable for how optimistic and profound, significant and trusting our bond had become. I expect what is crucial to recognize at this time is the possibility that tonight was a gift. That maybe despite the disappointment I have been relieved of investing more time and effort and energy into someone who is undeserving. A bitter pill for sure, but better now than later.

11-12-13

It's a consecutive sort of day, boys and girls. So let's do things in the right order, shall we? Keep the horse before the cart and all that. If you can't save dessert for the end of the meal, at least make an effort by somehow lumping it in with your entree. Resulting in perhaps an odd mix, like French silk pie on top of your waffles*. After all, new and unexpected and unpredictable combinations can turn out to be the best ever. As far as I'm concerned, consecutive is still consecutive when interpreted in a fresh, nonrigid manner. I'm certain there's even a mathematical exception to the rule.


*Credit for the French silk pie/waffles combo goes to JT Phlaan, who I believe is the most courageous man ever for the mixing up of random refrigerator leftovers. Not for the faint of heart. Truly.

I Now Pronounce You Maiden & Codger, Crone & BoyToy

If after three weeks of searching for a source and not being able to locate it, I always say it's time to wing it and write about it anyway. If for no other reason than to get the thought out of my crowded head so I can think about other stuff. So. I like scifi. Good and bad. Reading and watching it on either the large or the small screen. Robert Heinlein is a scifi author I enjoy, and it is a concept from his writing, at least I'm pretty sure it's his, if it isn't that may explain why I have not been able to locate it. Neither on the internets nor in my own tiny library. This is what I remember. Speaking through one of his characters, perhaps Lazarus Long, Heinlein proposed an idea for human pairing off that I thought made a great deal of sense. The main thrust of this postulation is that men and women of a similar age should not engage in coupling. That older men should join with younger women to form families that produce children. The advantage being that a more mature man makes a much better father and can provide for a more stable home than a younger man is able to do. When the younger wife is inevitably widowed, at middle age she in turn would take on a considerably younger man as a husband. By virtue of her life experience and knowledge, she would then be able to impart to him her acquired wisdom, so that when she passes, he would then be ready to take on the role of the elder half of the couple. Sort of a self-perpetuating cycle to help ensure that somebody has their head on straight, thereby creating a more stable family unit that theoretically has greater benefits for any children involved. Certainly it addresses the issue of men and women having mismatched windows of opportunity as far as fertility goes. I must admit that in theory this makes great sense as a social model. And not just because I would now be in the market for a much younger man. Though I do find that aspect appealing. It also challenges the growing older together model that assumes you will marry young and remain married to one person your entire adult life. The over fifty percent divorce rate already makes this concept seem highly unlikely. Maybe the idea that you would eventually have more than one life mate could make staying in a partnership more tolerable. The only flaw I can find is the across-the-board generalization that greater age equals greater wisdom. We are, after all, individuals with different learning curves to mastering any particular facet of a coupled relationship. That might be very different if we were socialized from birth to the early marriage/later marriage concept rather than the random marry-for-love/finding your soulmate model that has a fifty percent failure rate. Lately I've come to believe that there is more than one person who speaks to your soul, and that person who appeals to you is likely very different at the age of twenty-five compared to you at fifty. I remain firm in the belief that my first husband was the right one to choose as the father of my children. And I hope that I will eventually find an old soul in a younger man's body to be with in this second half of my life. And not just because it would be great for me. I truly believe it would be pretty darn terrific for him, too.

One of the Seven Deadlies

We drank it all up. Martine and Pam and me. It was delicious. The 2009 vintage zin appellation from the Michael David Winery. I don't as yet have plans for what I might do with the embroidered patch. Maybe just stick it on my forehead and wear my new red shoes and stay at home and vacuum. Envy my life.

Insert Punchline, Please

A cow, a milkmaid and a kittycat walk into a bar...

Drusilla. Maybe.

I have not yet named her. She is my new witch, currently packed away for the next Halloween season. She has kind of an old school Hollywood look about her, doesn't she?

Totally ready for her close-up.

Ruby Slippers

Okay, fine. So the red Bandolino heels spoke to me and I had to bring them home. Okay, fine, they didn't merely speak to me, they seriously screamed at me from the black dot 70% off clearance shelf. I had no strength with which to resist such an onslaught. 

Grand Wisdom

A favorite quote from Lawrence Kasdan's Grand Canyon. Uttered by Steve Martin's character, Davis, a producer of schlocky, violent movies, to Mac, played by Kevin Kline, the thoughtful everyman.  

That's part of your problem, you know. You haven't seen enough movies. All of life's riddles are answered in the movies.

I now implore of Davis, please, please do share with me what movies I must view in order to have answers to my current riddles! Be a swell guy and at least narrow down the list!! And should I wear my ruby slippers whilst watching these movies? Will that enhance my understanding? Clearly I have rationalized a weekend of sitting on my butt watching movies.

The Case of the Slippery Licker

Before

After

I'm not one to name names. Nor do I tend to lean toward the tattle-tale end of the gossip spectrum. I don't judge people who love their dessert so much that they lick the plate. Even if they indulge in such behavior out in public. This photo evidence does leave me wondering if a tongue print is as individual and distinct as a fingerprint. But no matter. This plate has likely been washed and used many times since last week. You can't make me talk. What happens at Carrabba's stays at Carrabba's.

  

Confection Revelation

Open your mind and let go of any preconceived notions you might harbor concerning the mixing of adult beverages with leftover Halloween candy. Last night at trivia Brandi plopped a bag of treats in the middle of the table. After rummaging through the assortment my hand closed in on a treat-sized package of Whoppers. As I held the pleasantly crinkly package containing three malted milk balls I wasn't thinking so much of eating them as I was curious as to whether they might float. Since there was a pint of Sam Adam's Oktoberfest right in front of me, and yes, it was my drink not someone else's, puh-lease give me just a tiny bit of credit, it seemed reasonable to give it a try. Not only did they float, but after coming in contact with the cold beer they became even crunchier! And I must say that the chocolate and malt candy nicely complimented the Oktoberfest style beer. A whole new way of playing with your food. Try this at home! Fun activities that are also delicious are hard to beat.

Lint Rant

Hello, lovely and luxurious and impossibly fluffy bath towels! Over the last year you have served me well. You weren't terribly expensive and have held up nicely. But here's the thing. Despite the fact that you have been laundered numerous times you still leave fuzz on me! I look as if I have been peppered after drying off! Please, do me a favor and shed the linty stuff in the dryer where it is much more manageable. Then selfishly hang on to it while being used. Thank you.
  

Questionable Photo Op

The public bathroom sisters floating head selfie. No more needs to be said.