Maxwell the Tattooed Boy and Other Astounding Joys

Strange Road Kill Day on Highway 14

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 16:20:00 +0000

I commute twenty miles to work each weekday; it's a straight shot down a lovely roadway we like to call Highway 14. Since it is an easy drive, I find myself paying attention to little details. Details like the profusion of small to medium former animals resting in the road. Today there was a large number of these unfortunates, a few of which I really had to watch in order to avoid further running over. I counted a possum, a raccoon, an armadillo (there's ALWAYS an armadillo - are these guys slower than they think they are or just suicidal??) and I think a former dog. BUT. And here's where it gets really weird. Upon entering the town of my destination, I started noticing odder stuff stuck in the middle of the road. First a lone shoe, then several yards down the road, its mate. Then another shoe, and another. All in all, about five pairs, some matched, some lonely and alone. Has Imelda Marcos cleaned out her closet? Is today throw your shoes out the window of your car day? Barefoot Freedom for All? Hmmmm. Shoes in the road. Makes you wonder.

From The Department of Redundancy Department

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 04:16:00 +0000

See that red car? I followed that red car for several miles up the road today. See that ever so carefully photographed (through my windshield) white blob on the upper right bumper area of the red car? It is a lovingly made bumper blob - larger than a sticker, more like a sheet of paper, adhesive backed, landscape oriented, laser printed. I so wanted to get a photo to show you, dear Internets, for you know of my obsession with grammar, spelling and word usage. Okay. I took the picture because this bumper blob says:

Save An Animal
EUTHANIZE
A Child Pedophile

I promise.

Haunted By The Folder, Or Birth Mother Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 19:44:00 +0000

A while ago, while rummaging in my file drawer, I came across The Folder. This is an old dog-eared manila job stuffed full of papers, notes scribbled in and outside. It's the folder I started when I started to look for my birth mother and the son I gave up. You remember the story of my teenage heartbreak and pregnancy, you'll find it here.

Anyway, The Folder. Several years ago, I decided it was time to make the search, to see what information I could find about my birth family, and reconnect if that was in the stars. I put my name into all the Triad search websites, wrote the requisite letter to the agency in New Orleans, started poking and prodding around. I received non-essential information provided by my birth mother at the time of her confinement in St. Vincent's (I used to think that terminology for pregnant women was so sexist, but this time, it truly fit...) I found out her ethnic heritage, some sketchy family information, and that was about it.

And then I found Fran. Fran was a private investigator, who for a fee, attained my adoption papers and Christopher's, and read them to me over the phone. I got names, birth dates, cities of origin, more family details. I was set. Or not. I hemmed, hawed and generally procrastinated about it. You see, on one side of the equation, I was sure. I had a plan, a timetable, some good energy. I knew the circumstances and I knew more or less where my son came from, and where he'd be coming from now. On the other side, the antecedent was a blank. I never felt energy, didn't know what had happened to this woman who gave me life and then gave me up.

As a child, I fantasized about my origins -- I used to imagine a long limo pulling up in front of our modest New Orleans suburban house, and Elizabeth Taylor emerging to claim me as her own lost child. Or Julie Andrews. I alternated the two, mainly because with my dark blonde pixie cut and blue eyes, people would say I resembled Ms. Andrews. Liz Taylor was much more glamourous and dramatic. The Liz fantasies I usually used when I was pissed off over something my mother wanted me to do or not do (i.e. cleaning my room or hitting my brother) and I felt my style cramped by this OUTRAGEOUS maternal request. I'd show her, I'd be whisked off to Hollywood with my REAL mother (Liz or Julie) and NEVER have to clean my room or SEE that horrid evil little brother EVER again. Obviously, that worked out well. My mother never knew just how close she came to losing me FOREVER and continued the raising, nurturing and loving blissfully unaware.

I still have that faded Hollywood fantasy to draw from now, although I love my mom and wouldn't have had it any other way, limo notwithstanding. Perhaps I dwell on the negative aspect of the search now more than I did as a child. I mean, what if she's not up to my fantasies? What if she doesn't want to know me? What if she's terribly ill? What if she's crazy? What if she's dead? I think that if I'd had any indication that she searched for me (and I have left huge drifts of breadcrumbs wherever I could to facilitate that search) I would feel differently.

Now that I work at the library, I have more genealogy resources at my disposal. As a matter of fact, the genealogy room is at my back at the reference desk. Just behind me is a vast treasure trove of public record info, computers with search engines and databases and the like. I've made a few haphazard stabs at looking around, and the only results kinda scared me. I found a woman, approximately my birth mother's age, mentioned in an article because she had a mentally ill son in trouble in the prison system in California. I poked a bit more, but her background information didn't quite jive with the information I had already. Talk about mixed feelings there, disappointed that the search must go on, but relieved that I don't have a crazy half-brother in jail being abused.

I still hold on to The Folder. It has grown fatter slowly over the years, my mother contributing things she's come across - a wedding announcement from a bride she thought looked like me, some phone numbers of people with my birth mother's last name from her home town, notes I've written as I've looked around. Perhaps one day, my phone will ring, or I'll answer the door, and I'll be able to chunk it. For now, I'm just a little haunted by it all.

bing -- Stream of Semi-Consciousness

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 09:52:00 +0000

Is it just me? Am I the only one who is startled, embarrassed and insulted by these new bing.com ads? Being a child of media and a writer and producer of same, I understand the concept. I get that search engines sometimes lead us down a disassociated yet strangely linked path, a rabbit's hole of information -- but that happens only in front of the computer. Not in the middle of the rest of our lives. Oh, Microsoft, tell me it ain't so. Yes, I see the attempt at humor. No, I don't REALLY ever think we'll get to be such search engine junkies that these non-conversations would actually happen. But I just think it is so insulting to the intelligence of your intended audience to even suggest this as reality, as a problem that can be solved by bing.com that you lost me. I won't try it, not until you come up with something else to spark my brain. Am I an audience research panel of one?

Four Foods on Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 17:02:00 +0000

Love love the Friday for many reasons, not the least of which is Four Foods on Friday, brought to us again by Valerie at Fun Crafts and Recipes. Here are this week’s four questions.

#1. Clair’s question. What’s the biggest kitchen blunder you’ve made?
This one came early in my cooking life. I was about twelve, and my mother and I attempted to make that very cool braided Easter bread that you put the dyed Easter Eggs onto. Well. It was one of the few yeast bread recipes we'd ever tried. We either did something too much or not enough. It was nasty, heavy and resembled a doorstop when baked. Cured me of trying to bake with yeast for years after that. I didn't really get it until I got my bread machine.

#2. What’s your favorite snow day beverage?
Snow day? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Actually, we in South Louisiana did have a snow day this past winter. We drank about a half gallon of hot chocolate, the recipe off the cocoa tin.

#3. What’s your favorite way to eat celery?
Tuna Salad, with onion, dill pickle, a little curry and garlic and a couple shots of tabasco, light mayonnaise and lemon juice.

#4. What’s the most most unappealing looking food you can think of?
Probably I'd vote for geoduck, that giant clam thing they find off the upper West Coast. Blech.

Rain. We Need. Big Time. Please Send. Amen.

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 03:16:00 +0000

As I crossed my front lawn, heading to retrieve two days' worth of mail (I don't know what it IS about these male people I live with. Neither of them craves real, tactical contact with the outside world. They're content to sit in the AC and Xbox their brains out, while politicians wander off into Argentina and stuff. Ahem. I digress....)anyway, as I crossed, I noticed this strange crunching noise. It was coming from the soon-to-be-former St. Augustine grass so thickly covering the lawn. It is downright crackly. Man. Do we need some rain.

It has been over 100 heat index for the last four days. The Cub Scouts, hearty souls they are, have even been sending the boys home from day camp hours early. Of course, if you saw the venue for this BB gun shooting, archery bowing, whinging dog food through a slingshot all day adventure, you'd send them home early as well. It is a rodeo arena. Max has fondly dubbed it, The Poo Place. As in, OH NO, we are NOT having Cub Scout Camp in The Poo Place AGAIN! Yes, my precious son, you are. And you're going. And you'll come home again in the afternoon and need to be immediately hosed down before you get near my sofa. So none of the Poo from the Place gets into MY HOUSE. It is even worse with the lack of rain, as the dust just bowls up and permeates sweaty cub scouts. I'm wondering if boiling him would get it all OUT.

Now, this rainless condition has affected my procrastinated tomatoes which I missed putting in the garden on time. I did haphazardly stick three plants into pots on the patio, and I have been saying novenas while watering each evening after work. I've dumped a huge amount of Osmocote into each pot, and stuck a ginormous tomato cage on each pot. These poor plants look like they've gone to the vet and come back in a scratch collar. But. I've been talking ever so sweetly to them, in between novenas, and I still have hope for a mid-summer crop. There are flowers on two of the three plants and they've seemingly gotten past the heat wilt stage that snaps the flower off before the fruit begins to form. With a little luck and not too many cutworms, I may even have a homegrown tomato or two before it really fries in August. But man, we could really use some rain.

Four Foods on Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 16:15:00 +0000

Here's my fave Friday meme, courtesy of Valerie of Fun Crafts and Recipes. This week’s four questions:

#1. bestmomma’s question. If you could copy the cooking expertise and ability of one person, who would it be?
My ultimate would be Julia Child. She was fearless and fun, the first woman to break into the 'serious' chef world. Bon apetit!

#2. What’s the first red food that comes to your mind?
Strawberries!

#3. How do you eat your strawberries?
Right out of the carton, or just cored and sliced with a little sugar or Splenda sprinkled on them. Max can eat his weight in strawberries like that.

#4. Share a recipe that uses cherries.
Hmmmm can't think of one. My favorite way to eat cherries: Get fresh cherries, chill in fridge, wash and pop into mouth one by one. Pretend you're Michelle Pfeiffer in "The Witches of Eastwick."

Cat On Kitchen Chair Attempting to Look Innocent

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 16:07:00 +0000

What? Steal your pork chop when you drop the napkin? MOI? PERISH the thought. Just do me a favor - don't put the nasty BBQ sauce on it. I don't li- uh- it's not good for you, all that sodium.

On Being Petunia: A Young Cat Looks at the World

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 14:38:00 +0000

I watch the cat on a daily basis. She's hilarious, as she makes her way from goofy awkward girlie kitten to giant sleek black princess of the feline and human world. As a matter of fact, were our relationship not pet and human, it might be said that I stalk the cat. But it's only fair, for sometimes. she stalks me. I see the telltale tall black almost bunny ears peeking around thresholds, just making sure I'm not doing something that the cat should supervise. Mostly those car supervision activities center around the kitchen and laundry room, ahem, that is, the cat's suite. She's got to keep a sharp eye out, otherwise, I might forget to feed the cat. Or not put the right percentage of pouch-to-dry food, or forget to make those amusing gagging noises while dealing with that pouch cat food. She thinks it most amusing that I gag the most at the most delicious kinds. Those disappear first, with the cat hurrying back to breathe the deliciousness into the human's face, causing even more amusing gagging. Oh the joy of cat love.

I see her learning things on a daily basis. Things like:
1. Spiders are much more fun to play with with all their wiggly things attached. Without them, all you can do is eat them.
2. Going outside at noon on a sunny June day as a furry black animal is much better in theory than practice.
3. Little brown bunnies are much faster than they look.
4. Stinkbugs should. be. left. alone.
5. If you bring your jingly ball to the feet of the human, she will throw it and throw it again and again. Then, when you've tired of the whole business, she'll still want to throw it. Very annoying. Humans may be related to :::shudder::: dogs.
6. Enhance the flavor of your water by the introduction of one or two morsels of dry cat food. It also improves the taste of the cat food. The annoying human may take the water and flush it out, but if you are patient and persist, you can train her to just let the cat food be. Patience and persistence are the keys. That and jumping out from the behind the door in full claw and fang mode when the human comes to change the water yet again. The tableau that follows is quite amusing, if you're into that human dramedy thing. Hurry and hide under the coffee table and snicker silently for a while following the performance. Besides, there will be cat food and water to clean up and wounds to bandage. You want no part in that.

Yes, she's getting more catly by the moment. She is also perfecting the waiting for the humans to fall asleep then pouncing onto their unsuspecting toes to stop the snoring noise, and the climbing up onto the table while avoiding the squirt bottle dance. Oh, and the watching the birds through the window while making covetous scary cat hunting noises. And she thinks I'M hilarious!

Four Foods on Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 02:25:00 +0000

Time again for that little ditty we call (okay, Valerie calls...) Four Foods on Friday. We address one of my favorite obsessions, FOOD! You know you love it -- and you should join us crazed foodies, just hop on over to Fun, Crafts and Recipes and play. Here are this week's questions.

#1. Mashed potatoes. Do you usually buy the boxes, the frozen or make from scratch.
Once upon a time, I'd stick my potato snob nose daintily into the air and claim ONLY made from scratch, but I do admit the boxes have found their way into my pantry. So much less work for an exhausted librarian, and with this bunch, they really don't care. When I want them, I will make them from scratch.

#2. Cottage cheese. What kind do you like? (large curd, small curd, 2%, 4%, no salt, etc)
Cottage cheese. Nope. You can have mine. It's that crazy texture thing.

#3. Is there a food that you are brand loyal to?
Heinz ketchup. Nothing else tastes the same, although I'd love to know where Whataburger gets theirs!

#4. When cooking do you usually use fresh onions or the ones from the spice aisle that are chopped or powdered?
I do only use fresh onions when I cook. Reminds me, gotta put them on the list for tomorrow's big groceries.

Back on the Soggy Kleenex Trail

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 15:00:00 +0000

Through the recent increased involvement with the general public I've had, I have managed to get a summer cold. Ah, loveliness. The region just past my hard palate has been designated a disaster area. Large green goo balls are building a retirement home there and I find my life being completely fogged up as a result. I can feel the breath I force out of my nostrils unpleasantly warm on my upper lip. I am using kleenex and hand sanitizer at an alarming rate. My eyes feel alternately goopy and sticky, like I have some pointy icky thing lodged there. I find myself a tad under the weather, so to speak. I need a bag over my head, preferably mentholatum-infused.

This morning, I barely found my way into the shower, through the hovering mists of Nyquil-induced sleep. (Side note: does anyone else find they snore like a snot-covered runaway train on Nyquil, or am I the only goober affected as such? My husband gets a huge jolly over this particular phenomenon. Just wait until he finds a video of his NORMAL rattling snore on YouTube for all to enjoy. Did I mention that Nyquil also makes me mean and vengeful?)

On yeah, back to the shower. I get there, I locate the hot water etc., I step in, enjoying the brief respite of warm flowing waters on my sore parts. I grab the bath scrunchie, and proceed to cover it in shampoo. Yes, shampoo. I watched myself do this from somewhere outside my body apparently, for it wasn't until I'd made a thorough swirl completely dousing the thing that I realized just what I'd done. I mean, what is a poor stopped-up girl to do? Waste $1.50 worth of salon-recommended mild but effective moisturizing stuff just because coherent thoughts can't make their way through the goo in the front of my face? I think not. So my body will be shiny, full of bounce and texture and will definitely hold its color until next shampoo. None of those annoying flyaways floating off my elbows and knees, even. Ah.

So I shall slog through my day and hope for the best. I'm armed with saline nose gel and cold meds, my kleenex cozily tucked in nooks and crannies about the universe. Later this evening if you should hear loud noises like a passing freight train, don't worry, it's not an F5 tornado, that will just be me and my Nyquil.

Hello from the Li-Berry

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 29 May 2009 21:56:00 +0000

This, dear readers, is the view from my desk. They have me at the Reference Desk, you see, and that in itself is hilarious, because if someone asks me a question, I have to go elsewhere to find the answer. Look, someone has the blog on their computer! What a coincidence.

And THIS, dear readers, is the cool Summer Reading poster they let me draw. Myths and Legends is the Young Adult theme, and that is my interpretation of the cover of Brsingr. Ah, we love the Briar Patch, we do! I do not miss TV.

Four Foods on Friday #77

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 29 May 2009 20:15:00 +0000

Woo, two weeks in a row, must be back on the wagon firmly. After all, I do love Four Foods on Friday so, and this week's questions are even more interesting than usual. You really ought to play this -- go to Fun, Crafts and Recipes, and get yourself meme-ing! Here are this week’s four questions.

#1. Anele’s question. Do you have a natural ability to cook or do you feel you just “get by?”
I think I'm a natural cook, I think about food and new flavor combinations and recipes a bit more than just getting by I imagine, plus I live in Louisiana, where it takes a pretty good cook to 'just get by' anyway!

#2. Why do you buy the size eggs that you buy?
I buy large eggs, because it seems that's what I've always done, and most recipes I see call for large if they call for specific egg size. Oh, and did I just dream it, or has Alton Brown recommended large eggs as well? (I'd paint myself green and jump into the reservoir if Alton Brown suggested it...)

#3. Do you have any cooking “rules”?
Um, never eat anything directly off the kitchen floor. Never reheat French bread in the microwave. I think that's about it. My kitchen's sort of a Wild West kinda place to be...

#4. Fresh corn. Yellow, white or bicolored?
Fresh corn. Yes, yes, oh yes. All of the above. This reminds me, I have two ears begging for light steaming followed by butter and salt right now in my fridge. I may take them up on the proposition for dinner tonight. Strangely, I am the only human in the house who likes and will eat corn on the cob. Fine with me, bring it on!

ZOMG. There are girls. Calling my house. Calling MY HOUSE!

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 22 May 2009 18:44:00 +0000

So the Medium Boy comes home from the last day of school yesterday, a fist full of scraps of paper getting grungy in his hand. Phone numbers, he informs me, of girls. Girls who freely gave him their phone numbers. Number one on the list, Jada. Jada who already has a stated boyfriend, Samuel, but has forked out the number to my poor deluded runner up to toy with his affections and drop him like a hot potato as some future date. Max says he thinks she is his girlfriend now, because he called her last night and left the message to call if she was his girlfriend. Lo and behold, the little hussy was on the line bright and early in the AM. I had dissuaded the MB from calling every fifteen minutes after he left the original message last evening. I'd listened with one ear when he called, not wanting to completely invade his almost-ten-year-old privacy but also being The Mom. Girls calling my house. Little two-timing on Samuel hussy girls! I am so not ready for all this. This summer is already way too interesting, and it isn't even 24 hours old. I'd better go hide the spare car keys.

Four Foods on Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 22 May 2009 18:31:00 +0000

Here is my attempt to get back on the FFoF wagon... always a fun thing from Valerie at Fun, Crafts and Recipes. Here are this week’s four questions, all courtesy of Anele.

#1. Do you celebrate Memorial Day with a picnic, cookout, road trip or some other way?
Memorial Day is usually practice for summer routine -- we either hang out and maybe go to friends' to swim, or just chill 'n' grill at home. The grocery had beautiful ribeyes on sale, so that's a big possibility for Monday!

#2. What are staples at your summer time cookouts?
Baked beans, a big green salad, sometimes corn or potato salad.

#3. What drink do you find most refreshing on a hot summer day?
Iced tea, homemade, or SF Country Time lemonade with lemon slices and mint! Cool!

#4. Share a recipe for a picnic side dish.
Okay, this is how I doctor up a can of Bush's Vegetarian Baked Beans. First, drain most of the liquid from the can. Then, add a tablespoon or two of brown sugar, 2 TBSP each ketchup and mustard, 2 teaspoons Picka Peppa sauce, a dollop of the BBQ sauce you're putting on the meat, and for a fresh twist, about 1/2 tsp grated ginger (I have some I LOVE that comes in a tube) Either stir it all together until heated on the stove, medium heat, or if you have time, bake 20 mins in the oven, or fastest way: zap it together for three minutes in the microwave. The oven beans come out best, but the microwave kind ain't bad in a pinch either!

The Latest Greatest Job News

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Wed, 20 May 2009 12:25:00 +0000

So, we all remember the recent non-employment unpleasantness, brought about by unspecified and non-discussed corporate shenanigans. Nuff said, the unnamed evil corporate lawyers lurking ever-vigilant, I suppose. (the new Big Brother, armed with Juris Doctorates ... shudder) And then, there were the Weeks of Trying Not To Worry and Get Free Lance Work. Moderately successful, thanks to friends' swift reaction to my clinging to their ankles and whimpering...

I am happy to report that this time period has ended, thanks to some really good referencing from my friend Bren, who has been My Own Personal Job Placement Service and Cheerleader (you can take the girl out of pompoms, can't take the pompoms outta the girl...)and I am not only gainfully employed yet again, but also at One of My List of Dream Jobs. (No, not Skywalker Ranch yet, anybody put in a good word for me with Lucas? I'm in possession of a nine-year-old with total recall of every scene of every Star Wars movie... plus maddening writing skillz) I am working at the library. The. Library. Where they keep all the books. The ones you can read for free. And not only the books, the DVD's, the CD's. I can learn German for free. I can sit in a serene environment and hear myself think. I can collaborate with a troupe of like-minded literate and (two days' experience, here, just a first impression) very nice and funny and great people who come there every day too. I will continue to seek and accept free lance work, as the Dream Job also happens to be non-profit, which means the pay is not quite Skywalker Ranch scale either, but hey. I get to work in the Library.

What I Really Want...

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Sat, 09 May 2009 09:55:00 +0000

I've been blithely skating around some reality here. I mean really, WHO in their right blogging mind decides that publishing What Your Butt Says About You is vitally important? Okay, it is ultimately just about everybody, and perhaps the whole blogging thing is just something to do when you wake up in the middle of the night after a pizza-and-strawberry mojito-induced night sweat. It's either this or endless rounds of Farm Town on Facebook. I am a bad farmer girl, I let a vineyard full of grapes go to waste. Phhhht. No Ernest and Julio for me! When they say four hours, you better not wait five.

Ahem. Off with the skates. Here it is. The plucky TV job has been recalled. Retracted. Done away with by Evil Corporate Attorneys. Evil Corporate Attorneys who made me sign a paper to get my Generous Severance Package (cough, sputter, Say No More) saying I'd say Nothing about it all. (makes that annoying zip the lip, turn key and toss over shoulder gesture.) So I'm casting about for the next assignment, trying not to get all flopsweaty and worried and panicky. Through the intervention and influence of my lovely, talented and supportive friends, I've been making progress at an alarming rate. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for listening, for being there and for talking me up so embarrassingly wonderfully. This has been restorative to my bruised ego and my spirit. Know that you have my love and support right back atcha, always.

The other side of this running about like a crazy unemployed woman is that I am having some valuable face time with the Large Vampire Boy. We went to lunch together and actually to a movie together, by ourselves, like grownups with popcorn and everything. Side note: RUN, don't walk, to see the new Star Trek movie. Warning, it does get a tidge cheezy but hey, I LIKE Cheez. I mean, we're even having conversations. I suddenly can see what he looks like. By the light of day, not just as a large blanket covered lump in the LED of the alarm clock. And I still think he's cute. Yay.

So there. It's out in the open. I feel a bit better, and not at all like posting anything any other body parts of mine have to say about me. I reiterate, the butt LIES.

All This Time, Talking Behind My Back...

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 08 May 2009 23:21:00 +0000

NOW they've done it. The Ultimate Train Wreck Quiz of All Quizzes. Angelika started it, so of course, I had to steal it from her. BTW, I don't agree with some of the things my butt is saying... maybe we're just on different sides of the uh, jeans.

Your Butt Says You're Competitive

You are a powerful, assertive person. You are a go-getter in all aspects of your life.

You are not afraid to flirt and show off what you've got. At times, you can be a bit full of yourself.

You find close relationships and romance difficult. You don't feel like you'll ever meet your true soulmate.

You are outgoing and confident. You are proud of who you are, and you are brutally honest.

You tend to be a serious, straight laced kind of person. It takes you a while to warm up and let loose.

What Does Your Butt Say About You?

Now We Know Where All the Green Paint Went

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Tue, 05 May 2009 11:15:00 +0000

And, eventually a serious amount of my favorite face cleanser. The Medium Boy had Some Fun at Fun Day at school. Can't they ever have Fun Day at work?

Public Display of Julie Andrews in Antwerp

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 03:50:00 +0000

Wow.

Call the Maytag Repairman, the Washer's Making a Strange Purring Noise!

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 03:43:00 +0000

Ms. Petunia Blackjack Scary Cat has been in rare form lately. She has been especially naughty, caught with Spring Fever, I fear. (Of course, it just may be belated retribution for her hysterectomy, but too bad.) She's been dancing lightly across the tops of the curtain rods, snagging the glass curtains. She's been stealing Kleenex from the box and Max's bath scrunchie from his tub, parading around the house with these purloined objects boldly. If a cat could manage nanny-nanny-boo-boo with her mouth full of bath scrunchie, this, gentle readers, is what the crazy fuzzy cat would say. This afternoon, I noticed there had been no Petunia sighting for at least ten minutes, highly unusual in these parts. She'd managed to escape out the front door somehow and was waiting patiently on the front porch to come back in to civilization.

So, was I surprised to hear a strangely familiar cat-sized thunk from the laundry room? Not particularly. I WAS surprised that she was not freaked out at all. She sat calmly in the basket of the washer, purring and occasionally rubbing her cheek against the agitator. The bottom was even slightly damp from the load of clothes done earlier, no biggie. Crazy loon kitty! Please ignore the fuzz lump in the Downy cup. I never thought of it until I took a picture of it. Ew.

Bacon Grease, Brown Sugar and Skittles, Oh My.

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 15:38:00 +0000

The happiest of spring holidays to you and yours. Easter is in full force here, baskets have been discovered and squealed over and seriously dented and my house is bursting at the seams with amazing food. The Bacon-Wrapped Smokies with Brown Sugar here suggested by my friend Bluesleepy are to die for, and should be the new Glade aroma... mmmm, bacon. Also made some artichoke balls, an oldie but goodie in my circle. We leave in a while to go to my sister's in-laws' for an Egg Hunt and BBQ feast. In between, we've paused to remember what Easter means to us: renewal, redemption, the tender new beginnings of the earth, baby chicks and bunnies, buds on plants and trees, all that good springy stuff. Have a lovely holiday, tomorrow it's back to the grind!

The Fierce Warrior Folk Who Inhabit My House

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 22:10:00 +0000

The Sunday afternoon jousting tournament, no doubt. On bicycle or ripstick. Please notice the LSU crocs, oh, and I don't think you get the full effect of the white stick behind the warrior's back, which is actually a cafe curtain rod with a blue star on the end. I believe this will be confiscated by the Queen Mother before Sir Knight receives the other competitors.

And I Would Like to Thank the Academy...

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 16:25:00 +0000

My friend Bluesleepy gave me the Premios Dardos award on her blog! Premio Dardos means “prize darts” in Italian and is awarded for recognition of cultural, ethical, literary and personal values in the form of creative and original writing. The rules are as follows:

1. Accept the award by pasting the graphic on your blog along with the name of the person who granted the award and a link to his/her blog.

2. Pass the award to up to 15 blogs that are worthy of acknowledgment, remembering to contact each blogger so they know they have been selected.

OK, I'll pass this happily along to several of my favorites.

1. I'll Tell You What It Shwas. Suzi is the mother and mentor of my blog, and she does daily life with flair, humor and finesse. She also makes up words that totally should be in the language. Firstively, indeed!

2. Les Becker. You will not find a better storyteller ANYWHERE.

3. Cardiogirl. She's funny, she's irreverent, she's insightful and the writing on her blog snaps and crackles - like raw electricity, not rice krispies. Okay, only like rice krispies if she WANTS it to.

4. Project Subrosa. I've loved Cate's writing since the GS days, and now that she's all married and out in the open and posting pictures and all, the story just gets richer and more wonderful.

5. The Junk Drawer. Kathy keeps her readers in stitches over the mundane and the ridiculous -- for example, she does reports about the plastic bag caught in a tree near her office, tenderly named Windy. Go. Read. Laugh!

Well, to be honest, all those blogs down there and to the right, the ones I hang out with and keep up with on a regular basis, are totally worthy of this award. I'm just too elderly and full of homemade meatballs and spaghetti (I'd thought about making them all week, and there's several more meals YUM) to type and link any more. My winners and I'm sticking to 'em!

Chick Fil-A

noreply@blogger.com (Elle) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 19:40:00 +0000

Don't ever let me tell you I don't love my job. While desperately surfing the net after receiving a rather cryptic note from the sales folks, blah blah, fresh milkshakes, blah blah three locations, which I was to turn into my usual rhapsodic :30 persuasive we-must-go-to-Chick Fil-A what a great idea live TV copy, I found this gem.

I love Tim Hawkins! And I'm in love with Chick Fil-Aaaaaay! I still have to write the copy.