AI and PR

I've been working my short little fingers to the bone this week, so in terms of exciting news to report? I have nothing. So far this week, I've been collapsing on the couch around 7:00 or 8:00, watching a little TV, and then going back to work for another hour or two. I'm unduly excited about the variation in this routine planned for tonight. Kevin decreed we're spending the evening upstairs putting away piles of laundry he's washed, cleaning the bathroom, and generally straightening up. Few people see the upstairs, so I tend to neglect it, but the general chaos up there is getting on both our nerves.
I'll spare you the whining and complaining about lazy, incoherent authors and move on to the TV watching. American Idol aired its "Best of the Rest" episode last night, and I was unimpressed, except for Ryan being so familiar with Dolly Parton songs. Watching him sing "Islands in the Stream" and doing a little dance with the auditioner's mom was pretty much worth the time I wasted on that episode. Ryan's such a tiny little man that it was like watching a wee leprechaun caper around.
What else? Oh, Project Runway, of course! SASHA, if you haven't watched yet, STOP READING.
Ricky, the designer who's been sobbing all season at the drop of a hat? Tell him he's awful, and he cries, but tell him he's good--yep, he cries then, too. And he's been weeping and wailing in every episode while wearing the most godawful hats I've ever seen. So last night when he was eliminated, I was bracing myself for the inevitable waterworks. Not one tear, however. What the . . . ? Maybe his Greek fisherman's cap made from mesh (why??) consoled him.

I thought I had a few good years left

Would you believe I haven't continued reading that stupid Cornwell book? Well, yes, you probably can. I finally gave up and turned to the end of the book to find out who the killer is. I know. I'm just like Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally, minus the fear of commitment, the wit, the neurotic self-obsession, and the skill at imitating "white man overbite." Other than that, I'm just like him, though!

Recently, Miz S wrote about one of the most devastating effects of aging: Noun Loss. Her description was spot-on and, sadly, all too familiar. You see, I've been suffering in silence for several months about my struggle to pluck the noun I need out of my brain's word soup. Verbs and I play together nicely, and I'm still master of my adjective domain, but nouns and I? We're becoming strangers to one another.

For a person who makes her living with words, this development is upsetting, as you can imagine. Worse, it's embarrassing. I used to laugh, smug in the knowledge I'd never have this problem, when Kevin told me about common exchanges with his mom, which went something like this:

"Kevin, get the thing from my bedroom. It's under the thing."

"Uh, Mom? What thing?"

"You know! Goddammit, the thing. It's under the thing."

If I can remember what letter the word starts with, at least I can reel off several possibilities, as Miz S did when searching for "smoothie." Sometimes, however, the entire word is simply gone, with no clue as to what it starts with or sounds like. A couple of weeks ago, I wanted Kevin to give me the remote because he has no idea how to work it, and it takes him longer than three seconds to find the volume control, and with my patience issues, I can't abide the wait.

ANYway, I started with "Would you please hand over the . . . " and then went blank. I stared at the object of my desire, hoping its name would come to me, but nothing. In desperation, I mimed clutching the remote and pressing buttons on it, but apparently I'm not destined for success in charades because Kevin guessed "The lobster?? You want me to give you the lobster?" I'd like to point out that with a guess like that, Kevin's not about to take the charades crown, either. He's begun referring to the remote as "the lobster," which does amuse us. See? I can still laugh about my . . . uh, the thing that's wrong with me.

Not a meme in sight!

I figured John Edwards would be dropping out soon, but I'm sorry to see it's this soon. He was a gentlemanly candidate, and I believe he's sincere about issues such as poverty and health care. I'll miss him in debates--and with him gone, who's going to keep Hillary and Barack from coming to blows? (Kidding. I know they'll save slap fights for a more private venue.)

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Patricia Cornwell is going to do me in. To be more precise, her inept writing is going to kill me. I read a few of her early books because I'm twisted enough to be fascinated by serial killers and forensics procedures; oddly enough, I don't watch any of the CSI shows, though. Anyway, those books were fast-paced and had enough plot twists to keep my interest. I picked up a more recent book of hers at the grocery store the other day. Is it just me, or is she churning out so many books that she's given up on even attempting to write well? I'm going to quote a passage from this book as an example:

"Nice of you to let me know," Marino says angrily as he angrily digs through a saddlebag for his tire-plug kit as he angrily thinks of Joe Amos, getting angrier with each thought."

Just a guess, but do you think Marino was upset about something? Gah. I don't know whether I can finish this book because I want to throw it across it the room. I hate not finishing a book I've started, but she's driving me to thoughts of homicide. "Angry thoughts," I think angrily.

######

Last night proved to me that Indiana has the most bizarre weather in the entire country. Here's what happened: Yesterday afternoon, the temperature was a balmy 54 degrees. Around 8:30 p.m., there was a bad thunderstorm with heavy rain. By 9:00, there was a tornado warning followed by hail. An hour later? It was snowing with near-blizzard-force winds! Needless to say, the temperature plummeted like a rock; I think it was around zero this morning. I'm changing outfits as often as a chorus girl in a musical revue here. Maybe I'll go read some more of that damn Cornwell book. My anger will keep me warm.

More questions! Now with pictures!

Man, Janet wasn't kidding when she said this meme is time consuming! I did have fun seeing what images popped up, though. The instructions said to use Photobucket to search for images, but I don't have an account, so I used Google Image. Anyway, here are the instructions:

1. Type your answer to each question into Photobucket's (or Google Image's) search box.
2. Choose a picture from the first page of results and post it with the answer.
3. You can't copy the pictures the person who posted before you used.

1. The age you will be on your next birthday:
49











2. A place you'd like to travel to:
Provence






















3. Your favorite place:
Right now? My couch.
















4. Your favorite object:
I have so many, so I picked a little piece of rough opal Daniel gave me for Christmas. Opal is my birthstone, and I was amazed he remembered that!











5. Your favorite food:
Chocolate (but then I saw this picture of a chocolate cake and thought "Ooooo, cake!")




















6. Your favorite animal:
Chihuahua



















7. Your favorite color:
Turquoise


















8. Your hometown:
I don't have a "real" hometown. I was born in Macon, Georgia.
















9. The state in which you live:
Indiana




















10. The name of a past pet:
Buddy






















11. A dream come true:
I wouldn't call this a dream exactly, but my first thought was "a clean house."















12. Your nickname:
I've never had many nicknames, but sometimes Kevin calls me "Daisy Mae" because of my habit of running around barefoot.


















13. Your middle name:
Michelle (a picture of Hurricane Michelle--ha!)






















14. Your last name:
I felt a little odd answering this question (even though almost everyone who reads here probably knows it). Most of the image results I got were related to a famous movie trilogy, though.

15. Your bad habit:
Laziness

















16. Your first job:
I painted ceramic Christmas tree ornaments in a woman's basement, which was less like a sweatshop than it sounds, really. After some dithering, I came up with "ceramic painter" as a job title of sorts.






















17. Your grandmother's name:
Inez

AI chatter and some questions

Oh, my God. A Freecycle message I got this morning offered "2 Small miniature full blooded datsun's (weiner dogs)." Good thing she clarified in parentheses--for a second, my poor brain almost exploded trying to figure out what a full-blooded Datsun might be. And "small miniature" wins the Department of Redundancy Department prize.

######

I have a pile o' work waiting for me, so I'm talking a little American Idol, throwing up a questionnaire, and calling it an entry. So, AI first. I think I've detected this season's theme: chastity. So far in auditions, I've seen the Boy Who's Never Been Kissed (because he made a pledge to his creepy father, and the two of them wear matching lockets as a symbol of his pledge, aaaaaaand it was exactly as disturbing as you think it seems); Nanny Who's Never Seen an R-Rated Movie (and she's married and in her 20s); a crazed-looking man who sang his own composition, "No Sex Allowed"; and Abstinence "Whatevs!" Chick, a 17-year-old girl who preaches perkily and annoyingly to her classmates about the benefits of waiting for marriage to have sex. (Meanwhile, she's captain of the dance team and shakes her booty in an extremely short skirt. Uh, a little more consistency, please?)

######

I saw this questionnaire at Sasha's:

When you walk in your front door, which room do you enter?

I refer to it as the "entryway," but it's more room-sized than that term implies. I have two big bookcases in there, and in the corner, between two windows, is Daniel's reading chair and a lamp.

Do you have a dishwasher?

Yes, thank the Lord.

Is your living room carpeted or does it have hardwood floors?

Hardwood, after I ripped up the hideous beige carpet several years ago.

Do you keep your kitchen knives on the counter or in a drawer?

On the counter in a block, but I'm slowly the replacing the not-very-good knives that came with the block.

House, apartment, duplex, or trailer?

House.

How many bedrooms?

Three upstairs, but one is the art room/music room/Kevin's cave.

Gas or electric stove?

Gas.

Do you have a yard?

Yes, but I wish it were fenced. I'd love to be able to open the back door and turn the dogs loose out there.

What size TV is in the living room?

30-something inches? I think?

Are your plates in the same cupboard as your cups?

Nope. I don't have cups that match my dishes; I keep all the coffee mugs in a cabinet above the coffeemaker.

Is there a coffeemaker sitting on your kitchen counter?

Have we met? Of course!

What room is your computer in?

In my office, which was intended as this house's dining room. It's midway between the bathroom and the kitchen, so it's placed perfectly for me.

Are there pictures hanging in your living room?

Yes, and probably too many. One of my favorites, I actually found in the trash! The man who lived across the alley from my apartment in Oak Park died, and his children threw out an enormous pile of perfectly good stuff. This picture is a watercolor, possibly Victorian era, of a young woman sitting in a rowboat with her head bowed. She could be melancholy or just tired, but I like imagining what she's thinking about.

Are there any themes found in your home?

I don't go for obsessive themes, I guess. I have a few things with pictures of chubby chefs on them in my kitchen, but I wouldn't say it's a theme. Other than that, I'd have to echo Sasha's answer: "Yeah, that would be the Dogs and Cats Own This House We Just Live Here theme."

What kind of laundry detergent do you use?

I have no idea because Kevin does the laundry.

Do you use dryer sheets?

As a matter of fact, I think he switched from fabric softener to dryer sheets recently.

Do you have any curtains in your home?

Yes, because I'm too lazy to dust blinds as often as they need it.

What color is your fridge?

White.

Is your house clean?

I intended to lie like a rug when answering this question, but I feel guilty doing that. I'd say my house is reasonably clean but cluttered, with pockets of chaos (my office, the basement, etc.)

What room is the most neglected?

Usually, it's my office, but I'm slowly making progress on straightening it up. I guess Daniel's room is the most neglected now because he isn't living in it.

Are the dishes in your sink/dishwasher clean or dirty?

I have clean dishes in my dishwasher waiting to be put away so that I can load the dirty dishes in the sink.

How long have you lived in your home?

Since 1995. (Please do the math for me. Thank you.)

Where did you live before?

In a duplex in Indianapolis.

Do you have one of those fluffy toilet lid covers on your toilet?

No (shudder).

Do you have a scale anywhere in your house?

Yes, in the bathroom. It's dusty, if that tells you anything.

How many mirrors are in your house?

Seven: an antique mirror propped up on a kitchen counter, a candle sconce in the living room with a mirror behind the candle, downstairs bathroom mirror, an antique black-framed mirror in the entryway, two in the upstairs bathroom, and the round mirror attached to my antique vanity in the bedroom. Could I say "antique" more in this answer? I think not.

Look up. What do you see?

On top of the hutch over my desk: a Magic-8 ball, my dictionary, a cardboard standing Einstein, a little statue of John Lennon, two small red-and-black silk Japanese boxes, and assorted framed photos and pictures.

Do you have a garage?

Yes, a detached garage at the far end of the back yard.

Everyone needs a sludge hammer

After the responses to my plea for dinner ideas ("Yeah, dinner. Whatever. A bowl of cereal is filling! Can we talk about American Idol now?" Heh.), I think I know what my problem is. It's not hatred of cooking; actually, I love to cook--occasionally. What I hate is the daily-ness of cooking dinner. You do it one day, and damn it, you have to do it again the next day, and the next, and the next, etc., etc. Bring on the Soylent Green tablets!

I do get inspired by watching the Food Network, however, and searching the Web site always gives me ideas, especially if I have an ingredient and don't know what the hell to do with it, too--a pack of chicken breasts, for example. What I should do is make a regular-sized recipe and freeze half of it, right? But that involves having freezer containers with matching lids. Oy. Face it: Dinner is just a pain in the ass. That bowl of cereal is sounding better all the time.

######

About a month ago, I joined my local Freecycle group. My first experience making an offer wasn't a good one because the woman who claimed she was "so excited" about getting my book of knitting patterns never showed up and wouldn't reply to my e-mails. I was discouraged, but I've been keeping a box of items to give away, and I'll give it another go soon.

I get the group e-mails in a daily digest, and I have to say that I'm dismayed (and snottily amused) at the near-illiterate messages. Isn't there a spell-check feature for messages to Yahoo groups? Clearly, no one uses it. The grammar and punctuation are just as appalling. I sound overly picky, don't I? Because I'm hateful, I'm copying a few here to show you I'm really NOT that picky. Some are unintentionally funny, too:

"i have over 50 jars of baby food that need gone to day!!"

"Im in need of a sweeper if you have one you no longer use please let me know. i Can pick up anytime."

"THIS IS REALLY CUTE. IT IS WINNIE HANGING ON A BLUE BALLOON AND YOU PULL IT DOWN AND IT PLAYS MUSIC. IT IS KIND OF LIKE A MOBILE BUT IT DOESN'T SPEND." (I applaud Winnie's frugality.)

"I'm Looking for an outdoor fire pit for next summer my fiance gets really cold easy and I like to sit outside with the kids during the evening and I figured since it was the winter someone may be getting a new one next year and I could take the old one off there hands!"

"ALSO ON SOME OF THE CLOTHS THERE ARE STAINS, FOR SOME REASON EVERYBODY BUT ME CAN GET STAINS OUT OF CLOTHS...HA HA."

"Offer: A sack full of paring knifes."

"As it seems my very comfy office chair that I have for my computer chair. Has seen its better days, my hubby gotta love him tried to fix it..Its broke on the bottom of the arm. Now if you happen to not to know and lean back it will come apart or just throw you out of the chair." (Maybe her husband meant to make the chair throw her out?)

Her next message: " I forgotten to put down that I live in [next town over] and that I can pick up..Goodness I forgotten to put that in."

"These chairs are metal, kind of have a roth iron look to them. They are from the 70's or 80's not sure. They still have some good life left in them. And they do swivel."

"i AM LOOKING FOR A DRESSER MY SONS IS HAD AND WE NEED A BETTER ONE FOR HIM. I AM ALSO LOOKING FOR SOME CURTAINS THEY DON'T NEED TO BE NOTHING SPECIAL I JUST DON'T HAVE NONE AND ARE NEEDING SOME FOR THE HOUSE. i AM ALSO LOOKING FOR A RECLINER THAT ROCKS BUT DOESN'T HAVE TOO."

Sasha has seen requests for some unusual items on her Freecycle list: "wemens clothes" and a "sludge hammer," for example. Sasha, what was the other one that was so funny?

I saw this CD Cover Meme at Alicia's and had to try it. Here are the instructions:

1. Go here. The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. Go here. The last four words of the last quote are the title of your album.

3. Go here. The third picture, no matter what it is, is your album cover.

Here are my results:

"Applying the Wrong Remedy" is a great album title, isn't it?

##########

I need dinner help. Since Kevin started working full-time again, I offered to make dinner during the week. I'm at home all day, so it should be no big deal, right? Kevin cooks on the weekends, which gives me a break, but I'm stymied by cooking for only two people. I don't think it's the math of cutting recipes in half that bugs me. I might be a math moron, but even I can do that. I could make full-size recipes, too, because leftovers are handy for Kevin to take to work for lunch and for me to heat up the next day.

I guess I got used to cooking for three, and I haven't adjusted to the notion that Daniel isn't here for dinner? Whatever. I'm feeling decidedly UNcreative, and I'm bored to tears with making the same thing over and over. Suggestions?