Isn't she terrifying? She's even scarier in live action:
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Isn't she terrifying? She's even scarier in live action:
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I value diplomacy in a person. My husband is very diplomatic, but also honest. This is a difficult balance to strike, because sometimes there really isn't anything nice to say, so he has to say the nicest thing possible. For instance, when he called me Old Thunder Sides while I was pregnant, I knew that comparing me to a WWII battleship was the kindest epithet I could expect because it came from Bryan, who loves me but whose instinct is to call'em like he sees'em. Needless to say, I have a thicker skin now than I did before we met.
He really is a treasure.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Today a few things happened.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I'm reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows right now, so I can't talk long.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I spent this afternoon at my grandmother's house looking for a rotary phone. Never mind why I need a rotary phone--I didn't find one, not because there wasn't one there, but because I was looking in Virginia's house, where the tenets of String Theory apply more perceptibly and dependably than they do anywhere else in the Universe. I'm serious--they should send physicists out there to study her closets. If you know any physicists, I'm happy to give them her address.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Anyway, I thought I was going to talk about cheese, but it's 11:26, and I'm too sleepy to muster up the energy required to do justice to the brave Pecorino, the soft, temperate Coulommiers, and her majesty, the 4 year old aged Gouda with the little crunchy crystals in embedded within. However, know that this blog post was written in the spirit of cheese, for the benefit of cheeses everywhere.
And with that, bonsoir.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Almost a year ago, Bryan and I bought a house that was too small for our stuff. We decided we needed to move out of our elderly and palatial duplex apartment, which had one bedroom, into a cramped and rather dumpy two bedroom house because we needed more space for Odessa, who was but an adolescent possum-sized lump in my abdomen at the time.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I'm never going shopping again without Jessica Sterling. I know: we will get old and perhaps Jessica Sterling will die or move away or become the President of the United States, and therefore have very little time to spend helping me pick out a sweater with a suitable synthetic to natural fiber content ratio. In any event, if Jessica Sterling forsakes me, I'll just have to rely on my mother to pick things out for me at Christmas. I'll wear my bathrobe and will most likely have an assortment of floral corduroy jumpers to look forward to.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Please answer the following questions as honestly as possible:
1. What have been the strengths of Kerry and Jesslyn's friendship so far?
2. What have been the weaknesses of this friendship so far?
3. What part of the friendship has been most interesting/least interesting/most helpful/least helpful?
4. Do you have any further comments or suggestions?
Now, that's classy.
Kerry gets glowing friend reviews because she thinks up delicate, friendly little compliments like this.
I love to evaluate things because that's the kind of girl I am. I like when I go into a restaurant or crematory and there's a little box that says "TELL US HOW WE'RE DOING!" I also really like it when I'm driving on the interstate and there's a tractor trailer truck with a diamond-shaped sticker on the rear door that says "HOW'S MY DRIVING? 1-800-555-5555" It's times like this that I turn to Bryan and say "Now, that's a good trucker. I'm totally not calling that trucker in." Or "That crematory is totally not partially incinerating my Grampa's corpse and then hauling the rest of it out into the woods to rot."
I believe in the necessity and the wisdom in a good evaluation. I believe that if someone truly believes "Jesslyn has hit rock bottom and has begun to dig," that we need to talk, because there must be some kind of misunderstanding.
I bring all this up because about seven months ago, I got an email from a long-time friend. This email was waiting in my in box when I got home from the hospital, having just birthed Odessa. This friend lived about and hour and a half away from me at the time, and had kindly picked up her quill/keyboard to say:
Because of X, Y and Z, we can no longer be friends. Good luck with your new baby! I know you'll be great!
Love, Your Ex-Friend
So, I'm going to give you a hint: "Y" was that I forgot her birthday, which certainly is a glaring offense, but not so glaring as "X" and "Z," which were slightly more unfortunate. However, in my defense, they were sins of omission rather than sins of commission. It was my bad--it's true. But the problem is that, had there been an evaluation process, I wouldn't currently be beginning stories like this:
Anyway, my point is that if all of us sent each other evaluations from time to time, we would know exactly what we needed to do to make each other happy. Feel free to send Kerry's evaluation form to your loved ones. She said it was okay.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
I'm not someone who enjoys being horrified. Some people like it, and so they go see horror movies. I saw a horror movie once, and I can no longer meet identical twins without nearly peeing myself. I saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when I was seven, and I had nightmares until I was 15. (Yes, I consider Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom to be in the horror genera. Laugh if you must.)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
- Several other gerunds I forget
- Eloping in Las Vegas on Halloween
- Dog Bones
- Napping Bunnies
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
This is a real life Ralph Lauren ad. I'ma give you a minute.
I know; it's a little hard to process. I saw this today and sat at the computer for a couple seconds thinking, "Wait, so, what---? I mean, uhm.... Well, maybe they're... But look at the--!"
This photo was so weird that there's really only one explanation for it. Well, two explanations:
1. This was generated by a person who lives in a monastery and has never seen a woman before (much like the 15th century Russian monks who drew Little Baby Jesus looking like a weird, skinny little man because there weren't a lot of little babies in 15th c. Russian monasteries).
2. This was generated by a person who had been sitting in front of a computer at 2:30 in the morning, futzing around with a picture for much longer than was necessary, vacillating between Mello Yello and Starbucks Mocha Frappuccinos for sustanence. And he clearly didn't look at the original photo before he sent this off...but to whom? Who saw this and said "Gorgeous! Print it!" How did this end up in a magazine? I've eaten with a fork that had more realistic human proportions.
A screw up like this makes me aware of all those people who spend their days at desks, tinkering with images of other people. Their problem makes sense to me: when I've Photoshopped my own pictures, by the end of an hour I can't really tell if they even look normal anymore ("Is my daughter green? I can't remember...."). The poor Photoshoppers have to do it for 8 hours every day. But then again, I can't have too much sympathy for them because PHOTOSHOP IS THEIR JOB, and in order for something to be your job, you kind of have to be good at it. I imagine the guy who "touched up" this photo was completely competent, only he probably took a cigarette break about 15 minutes in, but ended up watching a David Lynch film which took a couple hours, and then was pushing deadline, so he just finished it up in a hurry. By the end he was like, "waist that could be spanned by a cat collar: check. Octopus arms: check. Easter Island head: check! I think we're done here! Good work!
Okay, a week later, and I just saw this:
Ralph Lauren is officially EFFing with me.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I'm reading a book right now called Possession by A.S. Byatt. It's good--I've been meaning to read it for ages because several of my loved ones have recommended it over the years. It's name is actually "Possession: A Romance," which I think is a little bit silly because it's a "Romance" kind of like Jim Lehrer is an "Entertainer." Technically yes, many, many people watch The NewsHour on PBS every Sunday, and they enjoy it. But it's not entertaining, per sey. "Enriching" might be a better word. What I'm trying to say is that Possession is a "Romance" if you call endless talk about literary criticism romantic.
But enough about that.
What lead me to write about this is that last night I started thinking, "what is this book about? Because it's sure as sugar not very romantic." And as far as I can tell, Possession is really about Bathrooms. Every character's bathroom is described in the minutest detail. And Boy Howdy are there some fabulous bathrooms! My favorite is the bathroom in the castle with the mahogany toilet seat, hand carved and painted with woodland flowers--swoon! Anyway, once I discovered that the book should be called Possession: Some Bathrooms, I got really into it, because I love bathrooms.
I believe that in a bathroom, you glimpse the interior of a soul. Strong language, I know, but in my mind, taking a look around someone's loo is as telling as going through their garbage. What is their toothpaste management system? Do they clean their bathtub regularly? Close their shower curtain? Do they leave their toiletries out or squirrel them away in a drawer? Products can tell you a lot about how beautiful someone thinks they are vs. how beautiful they believe they may potentially become. A closed toilet seat means they might have pets.
So, thank you A.S. Byatt for validating my long-held belief that you get to know a person--really get to know them--through their bathroom. And as far as Romance is concerned, on a grey day in January, I begin to have romantic feelings about my bathtub, too.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I think I'm a pretty average sort of lady, into sort of average lady things. For instance, here are some of my interests:
- Sparkling water
- Pride and Prejudice
- Long talks with other ladies
- Butter cream frosting
- Expensive haircuts
- Being admired
However, because I'm a pretty average sort of lady, I am a perfect candidate for having my Ladyhood shoved up my nose to distract me while my purse is rifled though and $9 is extracted from my wallet. This is called a Romantic Comedy, and unfortunately, if you like Lady Stuff and you like movies, you end up seeing a lot of these. Romantic Comedies, unlike Lady-Targeted Period Pieces (which I'll get to in a minute), are basically a 112 minute advertisement for things like Diet Coke, The Gym, J. Crew, Makeup, and Hawaii. The point is partly to take your $9, but ALSO to take your self confidence (imagine your keys) and chuck it far, far out into a bluish, crystalline tropical sea. And then they smile at you and say, "Well shoot, Girl! That's going to be a bitch to get back. Luckily, we happen to know about some products that can help..."
The Lady-Targeted Period Piece is a little different, and not quite as lucrative, so they don't make quite so many of them. Basically, there's always a unbearably gorgeous man with a surprisingly updated haircut and eyes like a dairy cow's, wearing a top hat and breeches. He can't live without the heroine, etc etc, and you usually leave the movie feeling wistful, harboring a vague notion that Kiera Knightly is a complete hag.
Anyway, my point is this: I went to the movies this weekend, and was pleasantly surprised to find myself walking out of the theater feeling...well, really good. Like it was fine that I was wearing yoga pants and a button down shirt that fit me before I started lactating, but now, not so much. It made me feel kind of...cool, I think.
So, go see Whip It before Matthew McConaughey finds out women are feeling good about themselves and they shut the thing down.
Monday, October 5, 2009
My grandmother Virgina is 91 and loud, imperious, opinionated and completely awesome except when you want her to keep a secret, and then you're like "No she did NOT!" Oh yes. She did.
Virginia doesn't cook much anymore, but she used to when I was little. She's got these great big leathery hands like a frontierswoman, and when she prepares food, she uses Serious Cooking Implements like the old meat grinder her mother used to use back in like 1890, with which she creates her signature orange cranberry sauce. This is done by feeding whole cranberries and entire oranges (peels and all) into the grinder, which she cranks with her big, muscly hands until it comes out the end looking like Brontosaurus puke. If you ever go to her house on a holiday, please heed this warning: avoid the orange cranberry sauce. It will CUT you.
All this is to say, my people cook like cave people. Spaghetti tossed in butter, granulated Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. Blackeyed peas and collard greens on New Years. Cornbread made with that kind of crunchy yellow cornmeal--no sugar. Tomato sandwiches in the summer; in the winter, tomato-based vegetable soup with hamburger meat floating around in it. Nothing fancy.
Which is why I have a natural and completely lunatic disdain for "fancy food." Does it take more than a half hour to prepare? Does it contain more than 5 ingredients? Does it require a Cuisinart? A flour sifter? An electric mixer? Well, I bet you cook all your pet's food too, own a pair of bamboo underpants and you probably bought a $90 Patagonia fleece for your 3 month old baby last week, DIDN'T YOU?
See? I just snapped. That was me snapping.
Anyway, I need to get over it. Because I wish I had a pair of bamboo underpants (have you felt that bamboo fabric? It's like the most delicate meringue...), and I actually think cooking your dog's food would probably be pretty cool if anyone other than crazy people did it. Plus, I would totally put my daughter in a $90 fleece if it was like $20. And I love to eat fancy food. I love it, but don't want to cook it.
So, tonight, I'm bucking my heritage, girding my loins and making Cremini mushroom and gorgonzola privilege dumplings. Also known as Ravioli. With a pasta maker: a Swiss watch next to Virginia's meat grinder. Wish me luck.
PS. Hank Green took this photo of Virginia with her cane. Google him! He's internet famous!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Well, I'll be. For some reason, I now have a weblog. I woke up this morning and didn't have a blog, and now I do. My best friend's 70 year old father has a blog, and now I have a blog. Blog.