Lucky Thirteen

Thirteen years ago today I sat down at a different computer in a different town and state and thought, hey, my laundry is just as funny and entertaining and weird and interesting as the rest of the stuff out there. So I started writing this blog. In well over 3000 posts I have shared recipes and cat pics, my joys and my sorrows, my setbacks and achievements, what I love and what I disdain. I am grateful for the nearly 600,000 page views and for most of the over 2000 comments. I say most because if you have spammed me or been nasty you have been deleted or verbally slapped up, perhaps both. Making me the unquestionable Queen of this space. Queen, goddess, poe-tay-toe, poe-tah-toe. Thanks for showing up, and I'll continue to try to do the same.   

The Magic Ians

Minding my own business and watching an episode of The Magicians. Reid enters the room. I pause. He either needs to talk to me about something or wishes to inform me that he is about to make noise that may interfere with me being able to hear the tv. He says something like, "Oh, The Magic Ians! So, are all the characters named Ian? And they all have magical powers? Cool!" Needless to say, but I'm saying it anyway, his observation is now stuck in my brain. This does not diminish my enjoyment of the series but now I think Magic Ians every single time I see the title. I'm thinking my son should go into politics, perhaps marketing. He's adept at planting ideas into unsuspecting heads. And no, there is no character named Ian. Not so far, anyway.

Mantra for Today

¡Salud!

Sometimes you're sitting in your big comfy chair watching David Letterman interview George Clooney. Their conversation is wide-ranging. At one point they discuss George's business venture distilling tequila. You make a mental note of this because you are a fan of that particular adult beverage. Another time you might find yourself in a bar in Omaha and you ask Jeremy if it's a tequila night, he responds yes, and the bartender gets down a bottle of Casamigos and proceeds to pour. And you notice, by golly, that George's signature is emblazoned across the lower left corner of the label. You are about to drink his booze! It was tasty. Next time I wish to procure a bottle of tequila I'll have to look for it in the liquor store conveniently located on my block. Yes. The block on which I live. But first I have to finish the Patron. Pardon me while I check the kitchen for limes and that smoked sea salt.

Beer = Bread Smoothie

Yes

Asking For a Friend

How many hair washings are required to remove the lingering stench from spending an evening in a cigar bar? Or perhaps shampoo won't accomplish this miracle? Tomato juice? Vinegar? Give up and shave your head? I'm willing to give almost anything a shot at this point.

Trying Desperately To Not Sound Like a Bad Romance Novel*

There was definitely a spark, just not a fiery, desperately urgent one. It started slow, a warm swell that spread from her center out to her extremities. Like being wrapped in a cozy blanket by familiar trusted hands that knew just what to do. You see, she hadn't been kissed by a man that she liked in a very long time. And she had liked this particular man for years. She was beginning to see him in a way that she had never considered before. It felt like home in the sense that home isn't merely a location, but also an emotion. This kiss was the X marking the spot at the end of one journey where another was beginning to take shape. While she felt no rush to proceed on this new path, she knew she was ready to embark. The question remained, was he? 

*This is what a bad romance novel does sound like.

Gettin' All Resolute

At just over three weeks into 2020 all I can say is I haven't failed yet. I recently learned that most people who made resolutions for the new year have already failed. Only 8% of those resolute folks make it through the next twelve months successfully. Which makes it easier to get into Harvard, your chances stand at 16% for gaining entry into that prestigious school when you apply. So. I tend to make whimsical resolutions, if any at all, and for this year I have made three of them. Firstly, to sing every day. Before the move to Colorado, I had people that I sang with frequently, and lacking that now, my voice has become a bit froggy and flabby. It needs exercise, so I'm just doin' it. If I need to randomly burst into song at some point, I want to be ready. Secondly, to blog every day. And for me that counts as long as I have posts equaling the number of days in the month at the end of each month. I've fallen a bit off the blogwagon the last couple of years and I want to rectify that. The third one is not as easy as you might think. Repeat after me. I resolve to not argue with idiots about politics on social media. There. I have to remind myself of this on a daily basis, but I have to say that I'm much happier now that I'm avoiding this sinkhole of abysmal pointlessness. I do have a few friends who are very smart and I am letting them do this for me, even if they aren't aware that they are helping me keep a resolution. I prefer to let them edify the idiot masses while I observe and cheer them on. There you have it! Three resolutions that I'm thus far managing quite well. Good luck with yours! Failing that, I suggest you apply to Harvard.

Information Please

I've been following historian Heather Cox Richardson on Facebook. In these turbulent times I find she brings great insight and candor into the political arena. She is a professor of history at Boston College and has written five books on the subject of American history. In her daily roundup of the impeachment trial she lays out the facts in a reasonable, understandable fashion that reflects her deep knowledge of history and the political process. She's a voice of calm in the midst of all the hoopla and bullshit, which I greatly appreciate. If you ask me, I'd say you should follow her, too. Get on it!  

Sorry, Mom

Newt wouldn't let me make the bed today.

Thank You, George

The only way this PSA could be improved is to remove the bleeps.

You John, Me Jane

I am currently watching Season 6 of Grace and Frankie, just finished Episode 2. At the end we are treated to seeing Grace, played by Jane Fonda, seated on the toilet. Rather tastefully, wearing striped, notch collar, and probably silk pajamas. Which seemed oddly familiar. Then I remembered in the movie Fun With Dick and Jane (1977) that we also get to see Ms Fonda perched upon the potty. I think she and husband Dick (George Segal) were beginning to hatch a plan to greatly improve their diminished financial situation. if you can come up with more occasions of seeing Jane on the john, please comment. I would have posted an image but Googling such a sensitive subject might have had truly nasty results.

In Remembrance

I lost a number of people last year. I felt at the time I should write about them here but the words did not come to me. Now that I have had some time to reflect I will, soon I hope. Until then, this absolutely perfect poem, written by W.H. Auden and delivered by John Hannah with such raw yet restrained emotion, will have to do. And if you haven't seen Four Weddings and a Funeral, go rent it or find it streaming somewhere. You'll be glad you did. 

Absolutely Brilliant

Old House Love

I follow a Facebook page called For The Love of Old Houses. They feature all sorts of old houses, on and off the market, all over the world. Some of them are beautifully restored with gorgeous landscaping, some have great bones but look pretty neglected and decrepit. It's always fun to click through the photos and I especially love when floor plans or even blueprints are shared. I try not to read the comments as they often are critical, even downright mean, concerning the decorating taste of the owners. Whatever. If you bought the house, you could pull down those heavy draperies and paint the rooms whatever color you choose. I always think you need to look beyond the surface details and appreciate things like natural light and the arrangement of the rooms and what it would be like to live in the house. There is a woman who comments frequently who simply lists numerous details of a room and how much she loves them. Among her loves are built-ins, light fixtures, wood floors with wide planks, and the color the room is painted. There are three things I laugh out loud about because they are so predictable. One concerns Christmas trees and their placement. That one would be perfect in front of those windows/in that little nook/next to that staircase/by the fireplace. I can just feel from my first glance at a photo that there will be a Christmas tree comment. The other is an ongoing difference of opinion on the location of the kitchen sink. The it absolutely must be in front of a window or that it doesn't need to be in front of a window. I have to say that it doesn't matter much to me. In my current home, I do have a window over the sink. I like it for one simple reason. It makes watering the plants on the sill very easy and obvious. I do feel a little exposed if I'm doing up a few dishes after dark since there is no curtain, just a valance, but it's not a big deal. My backyard is pretty private. The window is frequently spotty because washing pots and pans is a messy, splashy process. And that's kind of whatever for me as well. Windows get polished when they get polished, not on a schedule. My previous home did not have a window above the sink and that was just fine, too. I was probably looking at whatever kitchen sink task I was doing rather than enjoying the view. I am amused over this hotly contested controversy. Another kitchen controversy is the island with seating vs a table and chairs. There is no compromise on this issue, all those who comment are firmly ensconced in their camp. You are either an island person or a table and chairs person, there is no middle ground. If you ask me, anyone who has Christmas tree or kitchen sink placement or island/table and chairs requirements as a dealbreaker for buying a home, I hope you aren't married to someone who has conflicting views. 

Singin' The Blues About Red

Really, there is a group of people who wish to annex Weld County, Colorado onto Wyoming. They have a facebook page. They are selling tshirts. I live in Weld County! I do not find this amusing. All I have to say is, I did not move to a purple-leaning-blue state from a red state only to be unceremoniously plunged back into a red state.

Of Course, It's Pink

The case for my new phone arrived a few days ago. It's a two part case! A grippy sleeve that fits around the phone and a neat wallet with a clasp to go around it. Lot's of little pockets for things like ID, a debit or credit card, perhaps a little cash. 

And look at this! One fits neatly inside the other!

Last but not least, the cover closes over the phone and is held shut by a little clasp. To protect the screen from my general lack of gracefulness as well as the wilds of the inside of my purse. What will they think of next.

TaDa!

When I first read Ms Parker's poem a couple of weeks ago I immediately thought a printed copy of The Little Old Lady In Lavender Silk deserved an honored place in my home. On Saturday I got busy with the the printer and my inventory of fancy paper, an exacto knife, and photo mounting squares. Yesterday I painted an old frame to surround the finished product. 

This empty spot on my bedroom wall seemed like the most appropriate space for display.

I don't know if you noticed, but if you'll scroll up to the first photo, you will see that I incorporated a couple of crows into the design. Of course I did! Making Dorothy's poem fit in just so with the rest of the murderous wall. Murder in the sense that it's a grouping of crows. Numerous crows. I do adore them ever so much. 

Feeling Crafty

Miss Dorothy Parker inspired me a couple of weeks ago. I have to let inspiration rattle around in my brain for a few days so it's ripe and ready to be acted upon. So yesterday I accomplished phase one. Phase two is pictured above and the final product shall be revealed tomorrow. Isn't this fun?

I Heart Tomatoes

I have made a major executive gardening decision. This year it will be tomatoes. Only tomatoes. I asked myself what I love more than any other garden produce and the answer was tomatoes. I am putting in another raised bed just for strawberries and I do hope the raspberries have a good upcoming season. But as far as planting and pampering goes, it's going to be tomatoes. 

Nostalgia

Don't play the games! Both of my sons have told me these words of wisdom.

But sometimes I just can't help it. Now I need to watch Footloose. And think about how cool it would be if John Lithgow was my father. Not a preacher, though, an alien. And ponder the possibility of obtaining red boots.

Half My Life Ago

I love, love, loved thirtysomething and watched it regularly during its 1987-91 run on ABC. I have the first season on dvd, but that didn't quell my sadness when it dropped off Netflix. I was also mystified as to why all the episodes were not available for streaming. I was told that it had to do with music clearance or somesuch licensing nonsense. But I digress. It seems that ABC is developing a sequel series based on the lives of the Steadman and Weston offspring, perhaps even dear departed Gary's daughter Emma. If I recall correctly, it was hinted that Melissa would have a child as well. Original series stars Ken Olin, Mel Harris, Patricia Wettig, and Timothy Busfield will appear in the reboot! I'm trying so hard not to expect much from this, but the creators and producers of the original are involved so that gives me hope. I was pregnant with my firstborn when thirtysomething debuted and felt so much in common with the characters who were struggling with the same issues I was. Critics called it angst among the thin and attractive but I didn't care. Parenting, career hurdles, marriage issues, and relationships with parents are things we all negotiate. I can't wait to see this!

Best. Cover. Ever.

Like the Wilson sisters, Ann and Nancy of Heart, I was born in the fifties and grew up in a time of phenomenal rock and roll. Ann is a total powerhouse of emotion when she sings and Nancy is an underrated guitarist. I always thought it was interesting that they embodied two of the primary elements of the emerging rock video era. Beautiful women who could play and sing! No need for hired guns or models. Together they bring new elements and layers to this classic Led Zeppelin tune. Just for fun, note audience members Barack and Michelle Obama, Bonnie Raitt, and Debbie Allen seriously enjoying this tribute. I feel the same way they do! 

Little or no Self-Discipline

I know. I'm binging through season four of Outlander at far too brisk a pace. Technical difficulties prevented me from getting my Jamie fix during my lunch break today. Starz was kind annoying enough to let me view the season five trailer at least four times as I attempted to resolve the issue. I had to run downstairs and restart the router but that didn't help. All I got was the loading icon continuing to circle the drain. Then my lunch was consumed and I came to the conclusion the greater universe was denying me my Jamie fix telling me to get on with other things. So I am. I can't complain about the 57 degree sunny day out there, particularly since it's January, so a few errands will be pleasant to attend to. It could be worse. I could have to wait until February 16th for any new episodes. 

A Tale of Two Weddings

My parents. January 1955 in Denver, getting married for the first time. I believe they got divorced in 1974, that time was a bit blurry for me. A self-involved teenager who was, well, self-involved.

Same parents, this time July 1980, in Brookings, South Dakota. The second time around lasted less than two years. They didn't give it a third try. Though I doubt in their case that three would have been charmed. I feel like more should be said, but in this case I think the pictures speak for themselves

Outlander, Season 4

Starz said, $19.99 for six months! I said yes. I downloaded the app for my smart tv. I whipped out my credit card. Those eyes! That tousled mop of ginger hair! The accent! The likelihood that he may remove some clothing at any time! Always appropriate for the story line, naturally. Pardon me while I spend the rest of the evening getting my Jamie fix. 

Rug Fuzz and Cat Hair and Smudges, Oh My

The first photo taken with my smartphone. It has a pretty decent camera. I was quite impressed with the detail and how clear it was even when seriously zoomed in. Note to self: In the future when snapping photos with your phone, vacuum and polish things up a bit first. You'll be happy you did.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

The new resident on the bar is an artsy metal wine bottle holder in the shape of a cat! Does it really ever get any better than that? My sister Pam finds the best gifts! Merry Christmas to me! The bottle of wine was also a gift from my friend Jill, who is in the habit of sending a lovely wine & goodies gift basket this time of year. Sisters who are friends and friends who are like sisters are the very best gift of all.

Is My Cat an Asshole, or is he Merely Hungry?

Both, but not necessarily at the same time? Though simultaneous hunger and assholery cannot be ruled out. Case in point, starting at around 5am today. Newton is purring loudly and doing laps around the perimeter of my bed, occasionally stopping to poke his cold little nose in my ear and step on my hair. I hear a noise that sounds a lot like something falling over, but I am not fully awake so I'm not sure. Some time later, maybe just seconds, I swear I'm hearing a dripping noise. Like water. Water? Shit! I feel around in the dark for the switch and turn on the lamp on my nightstand. Shit! Newton had toppled the vase containing a few red sweetheart roses and some Solstice night gathered-from-the-yard greenery. Irritated, I crawl out of my cozy cocoon, now mostly awake and locate a rag to wipe up the water, most of which has already found its way to the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. Fortunately my little tablet was situated on top of the book I am currently reading and has stayed perfectly dry. Shit again! My book is smackdab in the middle of a puddle! This is how I found myself in the wee hours of this morning sitting in my bathroom blowdrying the mooshy pages of Neil Gaiman's brilliant Norse Mythology. Which is a book totally worth saving. Particularly because it was the last third of the book that was drenched, and since I read as most people do, front to back, those were the pages I hadn't gotten to yet. Turns out Newt's food dish was empty. So I'm a horrible pet mom. He only does shitty middle-of-the-night annoying things if he's out of food and/or water. And when I don't have seasonal flowers in a vase on my nightstand, he usually just tips over the trash and proceeds to chase whatever he finds in it all over the place until I turn on the lights and check his dishes. It's my fault his food was gone. But was he truly hungry? Or just being a jerk? If you ask me, Newton will do just about anything to be the subject of a blog post. 

Kicking Off 2020