Thank You Taylor Swift

 Vote your conscience.

Dear Zooey

It has been brought to my attention that we bear a certain resemblance to one another. Beyond the fab glasses and the bangs, I really don't see it but find it enormously flattering. Ms Deschanel, I have been a fan of yours since your film debut in Lawrence Kasdan's Mumford. If you think we look a teensy bit alike, I have a request for you. If you need a woman with acting experience to portray your mother in a film, I'm your girl. I know that Frances McDormand* played your mother in Almost Famous and it would be an honor if I ended up having this tiny thing in common with her even though I'm not the least bit worthy. Should the occasion arise, please contact me through this blog. And thanks for your consideration.

*We are the same age, born just days apart in the summer of 1957.

I Love Zenni!

Someday I'll figure out the selfie. Until then, just focus* on my new glasses! Aren't they fabulous? After my eye exam two weeks ago there wasn't a huge change in my prescription so my out of the house glasses are still fine. What I needed was a new pair of at-home glasses that correct my mid-range. Perfect for computer use, tv watching, and whatever else when hanging out at home. The new specs are comfortable and everything is bright and clear again. If you ask me, if you have to wear glasses, you might as well be stylish. 

*intentional pun
 

A Beautiful Witch

 Original Art OOAK Painting by Terri Foss

We Are Notorious!

 We must carry on with the wisdom and strength she taught us.

Outside Inside

It looks like this outside today. Along with the snow came a ridiculously early plunge in temps to those dreaded below zero digits. Which makes me very happy that I finished the sanding and repair prep on the last batch of kitchen cabinet doors. That's outdoor work.

The extreme cold turned the garage overnight into an unwelcoming environment for painting. So the paint and the doors came inside. The dining room is now my paint shop. The seemingly neverending kitchen project drags on. 

Asexual Week Begins

My friend Courtney happens to be asexual. In the spirit of spreading understanding and education about this letter on the LGBTQIA rainbow, I am sharing her video that is an excellent primer. Courtney describes herself as a Disabled Asexual Weirdo and she's my favorite DAW, even if she's the only one I am acquainted with. That doesn't make her any less fabulous. Watch the video!

With Butter and Jam, Please

It's snowing. It feels like winter. Since I can't do anything about that, I baked something. Buttermilk scones, the Julia Child recipe. This is about as yummy as it gets on a Sunday morning around here. Full-on buttermilk scone bliss has been achieved.

Frankenstein Rocks Again

 

Frankenstein Rocks

 

Windbag-In-Chief

When you can't find a meme, sometimes you have to make one yourself.

 

Martha Stewart Wannabe

 

I Bet You Do This, Too

While watching this fabulous, heartwarming, and very funny show, when the opening title screen pops up, I make a little finger motion that makes the shiny spark appear above the dollar sign. 

And at the very end of the credits crawl, I make a very sweeping and dramatic gesture that turns this company logo into a poof of dispersing smoke. I never fail to amuse myself.

Drunk Stories

Completely out of the blue, because, after all, isn't that where the best ideas come from, I had an idea for a short story collection. The theme is the shit things that happen when we drink alcohol. Too much, just enough, for courage or for drowning our miseries. Good, unfortunate, bad, sad, revealing stories. All the adjectives. I asked famous playwright cousin Cory how many stories he thought I would need for such a collection and he responded with twelve. A dozen. And I have a dozen* ideas, a couple of them have already been fleshed out a bit in my head. So. Be careful when you have a zany idea and then retain someone to keep you on task. Because he will. Cory will poke and prod and generally annoy me to the point that writing is going to seem fun and easy. If I've ever gotten drunk with you, you just might recognize yourself in one of these stories. The names will be changed to protect any and all identities. Especially mine. 

*Now a baker's dozen...

Sad Pumpkin

Are we really this far into October? I thought so. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm just too tired to do Halloween fun stuff this year. Tired isn't the word that best describes my current state of mind, but there it is. I'm tired. Sort of like Lili Von Shtupp in Blazing Saddles. An advanced case of ennui that has removed some of the enthusiasm from my existence has settled in. The joy shall return, I'm certain, and I hope sooner rather than later. I just don't have the spirit within me to dig out all of my beloved witches and ghosties and other spooky things. Particularly with less than two weeks to enjoy them once they are out on display. I tend to put up seasonal decorations in stages, it's a process. The Halloween hall-decking requires three days or so to accomplish, and right now I feel like that energy and effort would be better applied to other things. I do love Halloween, I just won't be so obvious about it this year.   
 

My Apocalypse Outfit

Google your first name + Apocalypse Outfit. The first image is you! I must say this is terribly fashion forward. I tend to over-accessorize and as you can see, so does apocalypse me. From the hair to the boots, the scarf to the bandolier, this girl is stylin'. Are those lederhosen? I'm in!

Senator Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island

 In regard to this, here is the Senator's speech from yesterday.

Sad Update

I was looking back through some posts of years gone by to try and determine when my last eye exam was and ran across this one. As if it didn't feel shitty enough to overhear that conversation, it made me remember something even shittier that happened a few short years after those uncomfortable moments in my optician's office. That marriage ended badly. So badly, in fact, that I saw a notice of a crowdfunding account set up for her and her children. I don't know any more specifics about the situation and I truly don't want more details. All I know is, I was deeply saddened by their plight. A bit puzzled, too, since I had been aware that both members of this couple had pretty good jobs. Still, real men don't leave their families in the lurch. There are two sides to every story and all I have are a few morsels of information from the wife's side. Adults ought to be able to separate from each other causing the least damage humanly possible to the children involved. We shouldn't need a perfect world for that to happen. And if you have to crowd-source financial security for the children, something is very, very wrong. 

Follow the Money

 

The Most Dangerous Drug

This, children, is one of the most addictive substances known to man. Even their advertising strategy that started in the early sixties claimed that they were so good you can't eat just one. I give to you, Lay's Classic Potato Chips. They deserve to be listed as a Schedule 1 controlled substance. More so than cannabis. And if it weren't for the fact that stoned people need this sort of food, I would propose that potato chips be added.
 

The Best Argument for Single Payer, M4All I have Seen

 

We Have a Rider Down

 Marking myself safe. My ride is parked in the garage.

Newman Speaks

 

Hobbes Acquires a Hobby

Babs and Ken were in need of a photographer to capture their special day. Hobbes is always looking for something new to try and portrait photography seems to suit him well. Handy that he doesn't need a flash.

A Song For Wednesday

 

When Your Horoscope Slaps You Up

CANCER (June 22-July 22). When you like someone a lot, you want to know that they like you, too. So, you test the waters. You push buttons. You watch their reaction and determine whether you're deep enough under their skin to have an effect.

Miserable, Self-Involved & Ungrateful

 

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

On the back of this photo, in Grandma Esther's handwriting, it says that this is Knut's birthday, October 5, 1962. Five year old me is sitting in Grandpa's lap, and older brother Scott is standing by holding what I presume is a birthday cake. Even though it looks like a hat. What I remember about my grandfather is a bit sketchy. It was difficult to talk to him because his hearing was failing and he would often turn off his hearing aids when there were lots of people in the room. I do remember him sitting in his recliner with a cloud of blue cigarette smoke surrounding him. When I was older, I realized he had a wonderful sense of humor. I remember his funeral. And that he loved Planter's dry roasted peanuts. He would have been 121 years old today. 

Contrast

It occurred to her that they were much like the individual houses that they occupied. His was dark and closed in with a stony entrance that could feel cold and foreboding, even though there was warmth and comfort within. Hers was bright and sunny and open with overflowing flower pots on the front step. His had many doors and passageways and thus was labyrinthine. A shortcut to the living room from the porch, she thought, and returned through the dining room and kitchen to find him where she left him, stretched out and leaning back in his chair with his sandaled feet up on the table. Her house was far more straight forward. Once you entered, the living room was to the left and the dining room to the right. You could see beyond the sunroom to the deck in the backyard from where you stood near the front door. As they chatted online she could picture him in his office with the large window that faced the street. A deep and cozy room with a fireplace and a pair of wing chairs. She wondered if he was imagining her in a similar fashion, seated at her computer in her office on the high-backed fuchsia office chair. A vivid and cheery room packed with toys and mementos that was decorated haphazardly in every color of the rainbow.

Believe...

...that you deserve the best love there is.

 

Three Rabbits

 Architecture Edition