A Room of One's Own

I never thought it would happen to me.

I just watched an entire episode of Sandra Lee's Semi-Homemade Cooking. I vowed that I would never do that but I have clearly moved into the Food Network portion of my sick day. Once the show came on, I was like a deer in the headlights. I just couldn't stop staring.

She is like an 8th grade cheerleader. She had Reggie, who was runner up on The Next Food Network Star, and is totally gay. Sandra Lee and a big black gay guy. I was fully amused. I mean, she was bouncing around. Literally. The amount of pet names being thrown around was more sweetening than the sweet potato pie with pecan topping. Wow.

Now, my dad has a bit of a crush on Sandra Lee. I like to tease him about it. What kills me about it is that my dad does not cheat at all when it comes to cooking. Store bought anything just simply will not do. Yes, I know, the apple did not fall far from that tree. I think my whole opposition is that Sandra takes all the fun out of cokking by doing the cheating. I understand that many people don't have the time or inclination to do lots of prep work. I am not one of those people. To me, there is a weird zen to chopping vegetables. It's my favorite part of making anything. I'm not happy unless I get to play with knives. Why onEarth would I want to buy a bag of chopped shit? Seriously? It's unnatural.

I wish I would have started taking count of each time she mentioned cocktail time. Sandra Lee's love of the cocktail is about the only thing that makes me even like her. I hate the food she makes but I would SO have one of her cocktails. As a matter of fact, I may start a new drinking game in which I invite friends over and we make one of her cocktails and then watch her show. Everytime she says "cocktail time" or even just the word cocktail, we drink. We would be under the table by the end of the show! Let me know if you want in...

Good for you guys!

I am home sick! And, I have to say that strep throat is my new favorite illness! No joke, it's marvelous! I woke up yesterday and felt like death. I could not swallow, even tea, or talk at all. So I head to the doctor for some anitbiotics and am told I will be contagious for 2-3 days. Fabulous! Why? Because the antibiotics worked immediately and I feel much better but I have to stay home as to not be Typhoid Vanessa. Excellent.

So I am doing a little work from home. I can't get away completely can I? It's 10:20 and I'm still in bed. Currently, I am watching Regis and Kelly after having watched all three hours of the Today Show. I must say, I think I missed my calling. I would like to be Kelly Rippa. She's pretty darn snarky. I like her. And, of course she is wearing padded pushup underwear today and being completely obnoxious about it. I could so do that! Easily!

I also started a new knitting project and hope to get lots done today. It also means that I will most likely be watching a good amount of entertaining television that I would otherwise never watch. This will compell me to provide you with random and totally nonsensical postings throughout the day as to what is going on in the world of trash TV. Aren't you excited!?! Checkback often. I get bored very easily...

I guess it was time

It's been a little over a year since my friendship with someone I held very dear ended. It ended very abuptly and under troubling and confusing circumstances. As it turned out, Kate was not what she seemed. She had spun herself a web of deceit and lies, from a glossed over criminal record to the made up history of a mutual friend. What resulted was a lot of hurt and anger. I have spent over a year being too mad at Kate to even feel any shred of sadness over the loss of the friend I thought I had. I had such a hard time believing what of Kate's friendship was real to feel sad for it not being there anymore.

I forced her out of my mind and whenever somethng came up I brushed right by it. And a lot comes up. Kate and I shared many late night phone calls, emails, and a great East Coast trip including a fabulous 36 hours in Manhattan. That 36 hours made enough memories to make it seem like a week. We got on the wrong train heading to Ground Zero from Midtown and ended up in Brooklyn. We sat across from each other on the N train with the same look on our face that said, "Bitch, we are NOT supposed to be crossing the East River." We didn't say a word. We didn't have to.

Kate was drama personified. Every week was something else. Her mom. Her boyfriend. Her job. Her diabetes. Her living arrangement. Her friends. Her uterus. Her finances. But Kate could be very fun. Kate could shine when she wanted to. What has disturbed me after the shit hit the proverbial fan was how much of her was real and was what illusion?

Today is the first day I feel like I've felt any kind of sadness. I think there are other emotions in there but I'm not sure what they are. I still feel betrayed, taken advantage of, and angry. So why now? Why am I finally acknowledging it? A stupid movie. I've been sitting here just knitting and have been happy as a clam listening to my music. Joni Mitchell's Both Side Now came one. Admittedly, one of my favorite songs ever. It is also in Love Actually, which both Kate and I love. The first few lines of Love Actually are so meritous that I have nearly posted them a dozen times. I never had because Kate beat me to it on her blog and, well, I can't have that. But the song made me think of the movie, and the movie made me think of Kate and I just really gave myself a good long time to sit and think about it.

I don't think I can ever forgive Kate for what she did to all of us. To me. I was a good friend to her and I deserved so much better. She is a major contributor to the reason I find it so hard to trust people. She has made me leary of others and their intentions. Forgiveness is the greatest gift we can give another person. Second to that is the act of apology itself. Genuine apology. Those sweet words of "I was wrong and I'm sorry and I'm going to make it right." Given kindly, selflessly. For no one else's benefit than the recipient. The reciprocity of the gift of forgiveness is up to the person who was done wrong. I have never been given the choice.

So observations on Scooby Doo

Scooby is THE greatest thing in the world according to my daughter. When she wanted a Scooby movie, I was happy to oblige. I did a very good job of trying to convince her that she wanted the old school Scooby. Yes, completely for MY entertainment value. If you have not seen Scooby Doo in a few decades I highly recommend it. I've seen this DVD about 395 times and have made a few observations I thought I might share.

Velma has a remarkable ability to state the obvious. She is supposed to be the smart one but really, she just beats everyone to the punch. For example, Daphne holds up a big huge key and and Velma says, "Hey! I bet it unlocks a door in the castle!" No shit, Sherlock!

Spekaing of Daphne, once she got a little bit older, she starred in horror films where she was the girl who would run away from the crazy killer in her nightgown and inevitably trip over some hidden sprinkler and fall to the ground only to be chopped to bits. True story. You can see it happening. Sister is more accident probe than me and that's saying something.

Fred and Daphne were totally doing it. Big time. Every single time the group divides off into two teams, Fred always takes Daphne. You have to know what they were sneaking off for because notice that they never find anything. The action always follows Shaggy and Scooby (Velma gets lost because she routinely drops her glasses) and Shaggy and Scooby find all the next clues. Then they go find Fred and Daphne who are never too eager to set out to find their friends. Do they lack initiative or are they having a boff fest. You be the judge.

Shaggy was smoking doobies. It's the only way you can explain chocolate covered hot dogs.

I think Scooby was playing the system. Every single time they want him to do something, he acts really scared and then they give him dog treats. Maybe I'm the only one that would devise such a diabolical plan, but if those assholes are going to give me all the grunt work you bet I'm going to work it. I'll act scared every time and collect those treats. Mama didn't raise no fool. Scooby was a big faker.

Just put one DVD in you Netflix que just for fun. I am certain if you Google it, there's a drinking game. If there's not, let me know, I'll invent it.

Tech Support - the necessary evil

I hate that tech support is necessary for me. But let's face it, I have the technological skills of a root vegetable. They are non-existent. This is partially the reason why my DirecTV HD receiver has turned into more of a tabletop for DVD's that a usable piece of technology equipment. Tonight, after realizing that I've not watched the Food Channel in three weeks, I decided to do something about it. I called tech support. Mind you, I'm still actually on the phone with them. I am certain the guy I'm talking to is doing a crossword. We're spending some quality time together.

Let's talk about my companion for a minute, shall we? From the sound of his voice he sounds like a late 20's fellow with slightly disheveled dirty blonde hair. He is visibly chubby and looks like he is retaining a good amount of water, mostly in his face. The very high sodium Cheddar Flavored Ruffles Big Grab he had with lunch is not helping this situation. He's wearing a red t-shirt and baggy jeans. Picture Ralphie May only not funny. Not that I know any of this to be fact but I've spent a good deal of time with this guy today (I don't even know his name, I feel so cheap). In fact, I think that in some third world countries, we may be married by now.

My problem is that my HD Receiver is trying to act like it doesn't exist. There is no sign of life in there. At all. So my buddy here is is having me try all kinds of things to get it to spring to life. This is electronic CPR and I have NO certifications to make me capable here. Let's say I have crawled behind my TV (which fits tightly into a little nook) and unplugged and replugged shit about 13 times. In between the plugging and the unplugging I am waiting for various items to power up and reset themselves as if to magically solve all the world's issues. Iraq? Just unplug it, wait 30 seconds, and plug it back in. Avian flu? Same thing.

I have tried to remain patient here but my last round of plugging and unplugging required me to move my HD receiver to another outlet somewhere in the house all together and plugging it in there to see if the light goes on. OH HELL NO! If I unplug anything beyond a power cord I will be on the phone for 3 subsequent hours trying to get it all to work again. Hell no. So there I am fishing around in my garage in the dark. Yes, my garage light is out and I have not replaced that either. It may require unhinging something and it freaks me out. I'm searching for an extension cord at this point. After swearing 14 times because I'm trying to find the cord and hold a cell phone on speaker (why am I this stupid?) I head back inside and feel no sense of hope. None. And rightfully so. It doesn't work.

So, I am now told that I need a new receiver. Ya' think? And it is free of charge save the $19.95 for shipping and handling. And the tax on the shipping and handling. Greaaaaaat. I should have it next week. Fabulous. I thank my friend, Randy as it turns out, for the last 32 minutes of my life and I'm done. I thought I was done but now I realize that I am going to need to hook my Tivo back up to the new receiver. If they send me a different model receiver, I am certain I am totally screwed and will have to call Randy back. "Randy, hi. I know you said we were through, but really, I'm lacking closure and any suitable way to record Throwdown with Bobby Flay. I need you."

My solid place as a domestic goddess

I have always been exceptionally domestic. This puzzles many people that first meet me as there is a thick cloud of snarkiness that enveils me at all times. So basically, I'll bake you brownies but if you don't like them, I'll kick your ass. Wanna come over for dessert?

I've made several moves in solidifying myself as a solid domestic goddess. Mind you, this does not mean there will be a kindler gentler Vanessa running around out there. I quite enjoy mixing sass and serenity. Case in point: I bought the MOST darling apron you will ever see in your entire life.

I have been using your standard white bib apron for years now. This is a fine choice but, I'll tell you, my mom uses her mother's apron and mine just pales in comparison. Is it weird that of all the things that could be handed down to me that I don't care about my mothers vast amount of jewelry? I want the damn apron! It's scared, I'm sure in some weird Italian way. Anyway, I digress. Let me tell you about what I bought online last night.

It's a little ditty designed by a lady named Jessie Steele. I'm certain she's no relationship to Danielle but I've not researched it. I don't want any indication of the contray to tarnish our love. I can't wait for it to show up. I got it on sale. Look! I'm a thrifty cooking fashionista! It's a light pink bib apron with black trim, delicate little black bows on the pockets and and tiny Eiffel Towers all over it. Perfect for baking and listening to Edith Piaf. As soon as it arrives at my house, I will be dropping everything and immediately begin making absurd amounts of strawberry jam.

There implications to an apron that fabulous. It is not to be reckoned with. This is not simply something that you throw on over your jammies with your hair a mess. It deserves some respect and I can't imagine that I could utilizes this without curling my hair in the very least. It only seems proper.

You might think I have ADD

But really, I don't have anything of length to report about one matter but a few items to note on a couple. So, I give up a blog of blurbs.

Yesterday I had a HUGE meeting. One of my volunteers comes in the office to drop something off prior to the meeting. Norm is an old guy but very sweet. When you ask him how he is, he always says, "Fantastic, but I'll get better!" See how cute he is!? I go to give him a hug and he kisses me on the cheek and says, "Do you know how much I appreciate you? Do you feel appreciated?" I felt very appreciated and I honestly think the entire exchange is responsible for my attitdue adjustment that made the meeting go so well. I went into it thinking that no matter how bad it may have been, Norm kissed me on the cheek today and told me he appreciated me. That was all I needed.

You know how shopping hungry at the grocery store is just trouble? Bad news. Yeah, well the same can be said for shopping hungry while surfing Amazon.com. I just bought three movies, two of which completely focus on food. I got Big Night and Like Water for Chocolate. I must watch them after I eat. I also threw in Il Postino. Not becasue it has anything to do with food but because it has everything to do with Pablo Neruda, who I love almost as much as food.

There are many creepy men out there! Many of them!I dont' understand creepy. Can someone please explain creepy to me? Do these guys know they're being creepy? Is it intentional? Were they raised by wolves? What? What lead them astray so severly? I just want some answers folks!

In praise of Mark Darcy

I adore Mark Darcy. If you have no idea who Mark Darcy is, he's the guy Bridget Jones ends up with at the end of Bridget Jones Diary. Played delightfully by Colin Firth in the movie. It has nothing to do with the fact that Colin Firth is just yummy. Well, maybe a little.

The best part of the movie is when he finally plants one on her at the end. She has a history of dating awful men who are not very nice and says to him, "Nice boys don't kiss like that." In utter perfection, he just looks at her and says, "Oh yes they fucking do," and kisses her again. I love this.

My point? I have met a nice boy. He is absolutely and without a doubt nice. Just very nice. The first time he kissed me, it was very much remniscent of Mark Darcy and a very good thing. We adore Mark Darcy. And we generally think very highly of this new nice boy.

My house of woeful neglect

When I was younger and would spend my Saturday mornings putting off my chores for as long as possible, my mom always would try to nudge me into motion with the same phrase. "Get thy shit together, girl." I have no idea why it was put in such Biblical phrasing but that's how my mom rolls. Today, I am getting thy shit together.

As you can clearly see, it has been a horrendous week. My house is in complete chaos as I've been way too tired to do damn near anything beofre going to bed. As a result, I have a pile of clothes that have accumulated on the armchair in my bedroom, major laundry that needs to be done, two bathrooms to clean and a whole long list of other things I have to do.

Really I don't mind cleaning. It's actually kind of pleasant, especially the oiling of the furniture. There are two things I hate more than anything in the world. Folding laundry and cleaning floors. My floors need a good cleaning as my dog is a complete asshole, hell bent on making a mess of the place. And I'm not just transferring blame here, people. He's an asshole.

Today also starts the month long project of overhauling my backyard. If I was a considerate blogger, I would take some before pictures today. It probably wont's happen. You know how I have a penchant for laziness. If all goes well, by the end of the day, I will have a whole array of potted delights on my back patio and two raised planter beds: one for herbs, one for vegetables. I'm building them myself today and all should go swimmingly, save me sawing off one of my own limbs. It could happen.

It's been a long time since I have had the inclination or the funds to go spoil myself at Home Depot. I know how weird that sounds. You don't have to tell me. I haven't been this excited since my first house I bought 7 years ago and redid the backyard there. What can I say? I still like to play in the dirt.

Taking a breath

I had a near two hour breakfast meeting with my former boss this morning. She has talked me mostly out of my tree. I would also like to say that all major meetings should happen while drinking fabulous coffee and eating buckwheat pancakes with dried blueberries, honey butter and maple bacon. It's a must.

I'm going to attempt to move on here and I've just been given a little help. My assistant just handed me a copy of Michael Jackson's Number Ones. Yeah. I had no idea I liked Michael. But I do. It's like Green Eggs and Ham with music.

I think I need a mantra

I dropped my basket today. I am so freaking exhausted as I write this, I barely feel like keeping my eyes open. I have hit the end of my rope with my job.

I used to love my job. It used to be such a major source of happiness and pride and accomplishment for me. I felt in control of my surroundings, smart, innovative and useful. Now I just feel like shit. Instead of answering to one person, which is totally sane, I now answer to a Board of Directors, none of which have ever actually done my job or have the expertise I have. Like Peter is Office Space, I have 7 bosses. This is no bueno.

I spent a good portion of my afternoon being henpecked by three of them. I couldn't even understand why the hell they're being that nit picky. Worse yet, since my job has changed in the last year, I don't even know what's legitimately in my job scope as far as what I'm supposed to accomplish.

Nothing seems certain anymore. I have no idea what I'm doing or supposed to be doing or what to expect or what is expected of me. I just keep working until someone tells me to stop and do it a different way. So much of my time and energy on a daily basis is wasted. My job satisfaction is a negative 4 on a scale of 1 to 10.

Sadly, I've figured out what I have to do for at least a year of so. Suck it up. I have to play the game. I have to let them do whatever the want and do exactly what they tell me. No more, no less. Just what they say. i can't care if it's the right thing to do. I can't care how I would do it. Essentially, I need to not care. Period. Come in at 8. Leave at 5. Work in between. This is not my passion and there is no wayy my job is going to change so that I become really exctied and jazzed about it. But, that's not to say something else won't come along some other time. Until then, I am fresh out of give a shit.

Signs you've taught your child well

I don't care what happens from here. I have just had one of those moments where I am completely sure that I am doing right by my child.

She wanted a straw for her juice. She is currently standing on a chair she dragged from the kitchen table to the panty. She is getting her own straw while singing Rosemary Clooney (Mambo Italiano).

I've done well.

Rollerderby, flying insects and a total freak

A few months ago, a had been looking for local hiking groups so I could have some company while I hiked, or at least witnesses to slipping and falling on my ass. I found a website called meetup.com and in a valient effort to jump start my social life joined a few hiking groups, a social group, a wine tasting group, a writing group. I love the idea of someone else planning events and all I have to do is just so up. Beautiful. Last night I went to a rollerderby with the social group. Yes, all girl rollerderby. Skating pirates against skating nurses. You can only imagine my delight!

I live by the rollerderby rink so I got there right before it started. There was a group of us, about 25, but I only saw one guy I knew. I sat down next to a very awesome chick named Melissa as all seats next to Matt were taken. I now totally adore her. I made quick friends with the guys who ended up sitting behind me, one of which, David, I already knew. Then there was the guy sitting to my left. We'll call him Creepy McCreeperson.

He was sitting very close to me. And he was a close talker. I hate close talkers. If you're going to come that close to my face you had better be either Rob Lowe or a martini. Period. This man was totally devoid of social graces. He would periodically ask me the most generic questions you could imagine as though he had a list in his pocket of shit to ask. "Is this your first meetup?" "Have you lived here long?" "What kind of music do you like?" "What do you do for fun?" Mixed in are some very dumb questions. "Have you been to a concert?" Like, ever? I am quite annoyed. And when he asks them, he leans in. There is no way I can even turn my head because the mere thought is too frightening. I can feel his creepy breath on me when he asks these questions. Eww. I am trying to look completely enthralled in rollerderby and answer with one word responses. It is not working. He keeps asking me things. Then he starts a chain of questions that take a very bad turn. Very bad. Into dark heinous places.

Creepy McCreeperson: "What other meetups are you part of?"

Me: "Oh, a few. I don't really remember."

Creepy: "Did you know there's one for group sex? Yeah, I joined but then I realized it was mostly all men so I unjoined."

Me: (rendered speechless)

What the fuck?!?!?!? At what point in a casual situation does a complete stranger decide it is an okay thing to do to mention a general liking of orgies? Oh. My. God. Now I want to run far far away. I am mortified and yet paralyzed. I am now using every piece of my existence to will him to leave. I am trying to conjure a plague of locusts, anything. I just want him gone. I am now wholly dependent on Melissa to save me and she went to the bathroom! I am just sitting there trying to figure out why God hates me. I'm a nice person. I don't kick puppies. I was never so happy to see someone as when Melissa came back.

Creepy decides that he hates rollerderby and leaves. I finally breathe and then turn to my cohorts and inform them of the last few goings on. "You need a panic face," says my friend David. No shit, dude! We're having a great laugh. I tell them I am going to quit the meetup and join again under an assumed name so when new member Matilda RSVPs for stuff, it's me. Then the plague of locusts show up.

We are now under attack by the largest flying insects you could imagine. We'll talking Gregor Samsa with wings. I am certain one of them was so large, it had landing gear. Melissa is very afraid. Rightfully so. These things are gnarly. She finally looks at us and just says in such a pathetic sweet little voice, "Why can't they look like kittens?" I don't think I have heard a roar of laughter quite as loud as the response to that. I am still cracking up over it. After a few minutes we settle back down and I'm chatting with the nice non-creepy guy who moved down and took Creepy's space and one of these things lands on my hair! I have very thick hair and I do not notice! The people around me are freakng out and then I only feel a slight tickle. I just cringed thinking about it again. Insects the size of bats and now I've touched one.

We went to a pub afterwards and had a great time and I got home shortly after midnight and stayed up rather late just laughing at my whole night. Certainly, you could not have predicted such a night upon leaving the house.   

Day late and a few eggs short

So, we just got done coloring Easter eggs. Yes, I am fully aware of the fact that it is March 29th and six whole days after Easter. Remember that you're dealing with a woman here who went to great lengths to pick out darling Christmas cards, write them out and address them all according to Martha Stewart's prescribed schedule in the December 2007 issue of Martha Stewart Living only to put them in her car to mail them and never get that accomplished. Yes, they are still in the side console of my car as I type this. Mental note: mail soon.

I have decided that dyeing Easter eggs is just one more in a long line of activities that have been created for the sole purpose of driving parents ape shit. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a very cute little concept and my daughter sure did have a good time. But the whole thing is just a pain in the ass. I never remember that you should rinse off or at the very least wipe off the egg dipper before putting a different egg in a different color. Okay, I remembered but, true to my slacker mom nature, completely disregarded this rule.  All of our eggs have a little halo around their tops that hint to the color that they sat next to.

Also, I have laminate counter tops. Oh, how I wish that were not so. But, alas, this is my current lot in life. It also bears mentioning that the laminate counter tops are beige. This is better than green but it does mean that post egg dyeing this morning, they are actually speckled. Again, I stood there dropping the eggs into the dye and thinking, "Really, I should have put something under these cups." Did I? Of course not. I even threw caution so heavily toward the wind that half way through I figure the egg dropper was too much of a burden to bear and started just plunking those bad boys right into the cups, which I had also over filled.

Now it's just me an my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. I might have to admit that part of the reason I didn't care that we got dye everywhere is that it gave me an excuse to use the Magic Eraser. Sick. I know. It's just that I'm fascinated with that thing. I am not kidding, I have had many a guest at the house who has had to endure an infomercial-like demonstration of it's remarkable abilities. I truly enjoy the shocked look on people faces when I write an obscenity on my beige laminate counter tops only to amaze them with the wiping of it clean. 

We return to your regularly scheduled programming

Seriously, I started writing the previous post and my computer did this nifty little trick where it would kept shutting the window. I was not pleased. Where was I?

The light at the end of the tunnel? Yep. Okay. And I don't think it was a train. That was like getting a punchline of a joke two days later...

I'm taking guitar lessons! Yes, I am on my way to becoming a certified rock star. I have a totally cool guitar teacher named Gal (pronouced Gaul). Nevermind that his house smells funny. He's an excellent teacher and has me doing all kinds of cool things like the Pentatonic Scale. Very fun. I wish I had more time to practice. I actually have time to practice but if I make it look like I'm too busy to practice I feel better about not actually practicing when I should. Oh the tangled webs I weave.

I have started making new friends! I feel so 4th grade. I joined a few clubs on meetup.com for hiking and socializing and such and have meet many cool people. On Saturday night, I'm going to a roller derby with one group. Seriously, watching people dressed up as pirates versus people dressed up like nurses. All on roller skates. Could you think of anything more fun? No, you can't. Don't try.

Speaking of meeting new people, I have a delightful man I'm not dating. Yes, you read that right. At this point we are friends. We met on match.com and through one of the meetups. Don't know if it will develop to another stage or not. We're just kind of hanging. There may be a pupa stage. There may not be. Either way, I'm perfectly happy. He fun, very sweet and cute as hell.

I knit a peret. I can't really expound on that. It's cute and I feel so very French in it. Yes, it is raspberry colored. I had to...

I'm getting a ginnormous tax return. Big enough to pay off all of my credit card debt, cover the cost of a trip to Mexico with my sister and brother-in-law, and a trip to Austin with the grls to hand out at my friend Ashley's new house, AND redo my backyard. Freedom from debt is a glorious thing but I am so excited about the backyard. My irrigation system is finally fixed! Wow!

That's pretty much it for right now. I will solemnly swear to never neglect you again. Feel free to chastise me for being negligent. I deserve it. And yes, I missed you too.