This Post Doesn't Even Have a Title

I wish I were going to write something beautiful and insightful tonight, but yeah, I don't think that's happening. It's Derby Week in the Hall of Justice, which means light dockets and lots of leaving early. Last week was kind of a hard week, both work-wise and social-commitment-wise, so I'm taking it easy this week.

Here are some things I am loving this week:

Yoga. Believe it or not, I like it, and I think it's even exercise.

Korean food. Had it for the first time tonight, and it was mighty tasty. I ate a fermented black bean, and I would totally do it again.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season Two. I'm rewatching, since I got Seasons One and Two for my birthday. Ahh, the good old days, when Angel was hot, Buffy was a virgin, and Spike was still deliciously bad.

Dollhouse. Oh, Joss Whedon, how I love you. You have made me love yet another show, even though you made the poor choice of Eliza Dushku as the star.

My new air popcorn-popper. I haven't tried it out yet, but I'm super excited about it, since I'm a weirdo who likes neither butter, oil, or salt on my popcorn.

I Think Someone Stole My Saturday

Oh, for pete's sake, it's Monday. I don't know how that happens so FAST! Here's some randomness for you and your own personal Monday . . .

1. At my Weight Watchers meeting tonight, I lost 1.2 pounds. Todd cannot understand the misery that comes with being told you have lost 1.2 pounds when you hoped for, at minimum, 2.2 pounds, which would put you into a "new" set of numbers, or, even better, 4 pounds, which would earn you another five pound gold sticker.

2. I have discovered that there is a strong inverse relationship between how hard I practice the violin and how happy I am with my playing during the week and how much I suck at my actual lesson. (Or is that a direct correlation? Anyway, if I do good during the week, I suck ass at the lesson.)

3. I have officially given up on finishing Todd's Christmas scarf this winter. Goodbye, poor beautiful, cable- and bobble-filled scarf, I will see you in the Fall and you will be ready for Christmas 2009, I swear.

4. Edgar Sawtelle never did start to suck. It was beautiful and heartbreaking right until the end. I balanced out all the heartbreak with the latest in a fabulous werecat series. Ah, trashy supernatural romance novels, how I love you.

5. In organizing some files at work this afternoon, I realized that I have been prosecuting the priest-stalker since August 2006. When I started her case, I wasn't even married yet. Sheesh, priest-stalker, can't you give me a break?

6. This Friday, the latest Joss Whedon show debuts on Fox. Who is Joss Whedon, you ask? He's ONLY the creator of the best TV show in the history of TV shows, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So I am sure you can imagine my excitement.

7. Little and I went to a "Solve the Sherlock Holmes Mystery" event thingy at the Frazier Historical Museum a few weeks ago. We failed utterly at solving it. I felt so guilty about our performance that I'm reading some Sherlock Holmes stories for the first time ever. He was a wee bit pompous, wasn't he?

8. After making fun of them mercilessly on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve, I am listen to The Ting Tings incessantly. They make me want to put on my blue wig and dance.

8. I have a new dress from Old Navy that I got for $9.99, and it's totally cool. (Told you this post was going to be random.)

It's That Dreamy Edward Cullen, Again

Well, we did it -- Little and I went to see Twilight today, along with just about every female between the ages of 10 and 35. It was just lovely, I have to say.

I've been thinking way too much about the popularity of these books. They are not classic literature, for sure, but oh, so compelling. This boy is quite simply the fantasy boyfriend, the boy that every adolescent girl dreams of. One who loves you obsessively and protectively, who would face down beasties and meanies and even PARENTS for you.

Oh, yeah . . . and he's a bit stalker-ish. I said he was the fantasy of ADOLESCENT girls, didn't I?

Anywho. If you are a girl who's an adolescent, or a woman who used to be a girl who was an adolescent, go see the movie -- better yet, read the books. Books are ALWAYS better than the movie, don't you know.

I Can't Believe I Read the WHOLE Thing

I had grand plans of super-cleaning my house this weekend in preparation for the Greatest Halloween Party Ever, but since Todd was feeling kind of sickly, I couldn't be bustling around the house making a lot of noise, could I? Of COURSE not. What kind of wife do you think I am?

So, instead of cleaning, I finished up Breaking Dawn, which concluded my whirlwind reading of the ENTIRE Twilight series, which I started on Tuesday. As in, five days before I finished them. All four books.

I feel vaguely embarassed by this, like I spent the weekend doing something shameful. Like surfing the 'net for porn, or campaigning for McCain or something.

But I have to say this: I loved, loved, LOVED those darn books. The teenage angst! The overly dramatic heartbreak! The barely-hidden message of morality! The vampires! The werewolves!

Oh, and I wish I was named Bella. I may have a child soon, just to name her Bella.

Now I'm totally all geeked-up and anxious for the movie, which comes out November 21, not that I checked or anything. I am SO making Little go with me for opening night. I might even wear fangs.



And in case you thought I spent the whole weekend with no intellectual stimulation, never fear, I rounded out my Sunday with The Incredible Hulk, Edward Norton version. And as much as I love me some Edward Norton, it still doesn't stand up to the wonderful Eddie's father himself, Bill Bixby.

Crap, I guess I have to go back to being an adult tomorrow.

Someday I'll Write a Real Post Again

Ack. Forgot to post. Here's an update:

1. Dropped off my Ky State Fair entries on Sunday, and am anxiously awaiting the results. I have high hopes for that blasted Christmas stocking.

2. Been totally captivated by the Olympics in the past few days. Seriously, is there anything cuter than that men's gymnastics team? So wholesome, so disgustingly all-American.

3. Changed my haircolor. Again. This change prompted the following conversation with one of my Sunday School students:
Him: Didn't your hair used to be black and white?
Me: Yep.
Him: Do you know that now it's black and purple?
Me: Yep.
Him: Why don't you have kids?

4. Signed up for Facebook. Apparently, I don't have any more high school and college friends than I did . . . well, when I was in high school and college.

5. Saw The Dark Knight and it was totally depressing. Heath Ledger's dead, Morgan Freeman's divorced, and Christian Bale is a DV perp. Saw Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants with Little, and it was much happier.

6. Finally gave into the summer reading temptation of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter novels. And, now I'm hooked. Darn those fascinating vampires!

7. Broken things around here are multiplying at an alarming rate: Both digital cameras -- broke. Laptop -- broke. Car -- broke. Sunglasses -- broke. (Okay, so that last one I broke myself in a snit when I lost my car keys AGAIN. None of the rest are my fault.)

Monday Recommendations

Just a quickie today, as I find that Monday has worn me out so much that I am hardly coherent and have read the same page of a new library book five times and still couldn't tell you what the blazes that book is about.

1. Speaking of books, Todd and I had one of our rare occasions of reading the same book over the past few weeks. (Since he only reads books that are true, and I only read those that are the loveliest of lies, we don't converge in our reading material very often. The Testament of Gideon Mack turned out to be quite a thought-provoker, and I highly recommend it. But only if you're okay with feeling sorry for the Devil.

2. Little and I saw the new Narnia movie yesterday, and I highly recommend it, too. (See? You think reading this blog doesn't get you anything, but that's two recommendations in one post.) I totally jumped out of my skin a few times, and gasped, and covered my mouth and cried at the end. What more could a person ask for in a movie?

3. I had my first ever pedicure last weekend, and guess what? I highly recommend it. (That makes three.) Perfect for when you need to feel extra girly.

4. You know what else I recommend? Voting tomorrow, assuming you're in Kentucky. It's one of the few rights you have left.

Paulina said it, Not me

Well, color me tickled! My favorite guilty pleasure, America's Next Top Model, ended tonight with my favorite finale ever.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's a dumb show, and I know Tyra is clueless, but I can never resist all the fashion and makeup talk. I'm not going to lie, I'm not above doing a few runway walks across my living room floor.

And then there's THIS reason to watch:


Quite the hottie, that Nigel.

On tonight's finale, ANTM finally joined the world of real live women who eat, and picked the lovely, voluptuous, Whitney as this year's winner:


Of course, they made her blonde before she could win, but STILL! The first ever ANTM plus-size winner. Putting aside the fact that this is not a woman who would be called plus-size anywhere but in the modeling industry, I'm pleased as punch.

I also loved the quote from skinny-bitch judge Paulina, who obviously was NOT on board with a winning model who has eaten a sandwich and lived to tell about it: "Whitney is the woman every man would want in his bedroom, but Anya is who the women would buy a dress from."

I think I can live with that, Paulina. I think that is just A-Okay.

What Can I Say, I Feel Random . . .

I had a blessed, state-sanctioned day off on Monday, for Martin Luther King, Jr., and then I took a blessed, my-boss-sanctioned day off on Tuesday for . . . well, just for me. So, that means that today is really Monday, which means it really has only been a few short days since my last blog post. Got it? (I think we've been through this before.)

It being Monday and all, I can only offer you some randomness . . .

Random Thing #1: After some big-time knitting over my long weekend, Clapotis is SO close to being done. I plan to wear it all next weekend with my shiny red quilted vest I got for Christmas. It just seems like a guarantee of a good weekend to go around wearing a red vest with a pink and purple scarf. The only thing that could make it better would be red cowboy boots.

Random Thing #2: I rode the bus to work today for the first time in awhile, and wouldn't you know, I picked the seat right behind the very, very mentally ill woman who kind of freaked me out staring at me and shaking her head and waving her arms. Then, she let out a big SHREWF (sort of a cross between a sneeze and a yell -- it sounded like a "shrewf" to me) on the guy in front her. He was a really uptight-looking dude (who is actually an attorney with my office, he just works in a different location), and he turned around, gave her this ridiculous looking shocked stare, and huffed off to another seat. It was one of the huffiest huff-offs I've ever seen, and quite amusing. I should start filming this stuff, really.

Random Thing #3: Yesterday I had an appointment with a trainer dude at the Y, to "set me up" on their computer program so I can track workouts, set goals, yada, yada, yada. (Or, "whoo, whoo, whoo" in courthouse-speak.) Things were going fine, until he asked me if I knew my current weight. I nodded, and we stared at each other for a minute, until he finally said, "oh, sorry," and turned his back so I could enter it in the computer. He was like, "really, I do this all the time," and I was like, "Dude, there are things even my HUSBAND doesn't know, and if I told you, I'd SO have to kill you and there are lots of big ol' weights around here with which to do so." That shut him right the heck up.

Random Thing #4: I've been meaning to blog about this for awhile, and was going to give it it's own post, but the Academy Award Nominations reminded me of it. If you haven't seen Juno yet, get thee to a movie theater STAT. I mean really. I know it's kind of chick-flicky, but it was so, so good, and if it doesn't make you laugh out loud at least once, well, then, you probably need to go eat a bran muffin or huff off with that guy from random thing #2, because I can't imagine what kind of person you are. I could get over my baby-ambivalence lickety-split if I could have a daughter just like Juno, and I'd want to be just like her parents. I've already invited Ellen Page to come live with us anytime, or just come over for dinner, so I will feel cool. (I'm sure she'll RSVP any time now.)

Random Thing #5: I just finished a terrific book, actually the second of a series, and I desperately want someone to talk to about it. Truthfully, I need someone to explain some of it to me. So if you or anyone you know is a big sci-fi/fantasy geek and has read Elizabeth Bear's Whiskey and Water, please send them my way. I'm a trifle confused.

Here's hoping for a quick return of the weekend!

If You Have the Technology, You Can SO Rebuild Me

Okay, here's the question: if you had the chance, would you let yourself be made "bionic?"

I watched the series premiere tonight of the new "Bionic Woman." It's pretty hard for me to put aside my nostalgic love for the original (and seriously, how sad is it that the Bionic Woman now sells mattresses on TV infomercials?) but I have to say, I'm kind of liking this new show.

So, anyway -- would YOU become bionic? Because the new Jaimie Sommers is not at all happy about it. I spent the first half of the show saying, "what the heck is HER problem?"

Todd was feeling pretty sympathetic to ol' Jaimie, I think, until I pointed out that the alternative to the bionics was being a triple amputee with a bum ear who was blind in one eye.

"Oh, yeah," he said.

Overall, I think I'm in favor of super powers. I heard once about a personality test which asks you to choose between being able to fly and being invisible. Something about people who choose to be invisible are sneaky and stuff, and they like . . . well, being invisible.

Okay, so maybe I don't really remember what the results of that particular personality test were supposed to be. But it's big fun to think about, isn't it? To me, it's no contest at all. I would choose flying.

No more waiting for the bus or paying to park. No more searching around for the cheapest airline. Nope, not me. I'd just fly myself on vacation. Cool.

I feel like such an adult these days -- I've started telling Todd my wishes in the event of some life tragedy:

1) No airbrushed t-shirts saying "RIP Kara", and

2) If the opportunity should arise, he should TOTALLY make me bionic.

The Perils of Monday Night Television

I freely admit that I am addicted to watching TLC television.

"Little People, Big World?" I'm there. "What Not to Wear?" SO there.

So I really don't think I can be blamed for being sucked into the show that was on last night about the Duggar Family.

Have you heard about these people? An Arkansas family, some variety of conservative fundamentalist Christian, who have . . .

(Oh, Lord, I can't even type it without taking a deep breath first.)

. . . seventeen children.

I'M TOTALLY NOT KIDDING. SEVENTEEN CHILDREN.

People, I have seen hell, and it is the Duggar Family. Imagine: seventeen children, two sets of twins, dressed in uniformly bad clothing, all with NAMES THAT BEGIN WITH J.

Oh, and the father's name is Jim Bob. And he has served as an Arkansas state legislator. You guess at the party affiliation. Go on, guess!

I used to think that Saw was the most disturbing thing I had ever seen, but after watching this show, I had to huddle under the dining room table for an hour, rocking back and forth, holding on to my Ortho-Novum for dear life.

Their justification for single-handedly ensuring the survival of the Republican Party? They asked God to bless them with as many children as He saw fit. Mom Michelle (who has, without a doubt, the worst hair I have ever seen, and since I'm from Henry County, AND work in warrant court every day, that's saying something) says, "Children are like flowers, how could you ever have too many?"

Well, hells bells, Michelle, have a flower garden, then, but STOP with the children! Even Angelina Jolie is appalled!

Does God want ANYONE to have seventeen children? I mean, God knows me pretty well, I think, and I'm not sure that He is willing to trust me with even one. I think he's waiting to see how Penny the Wonder Puppy turns out.

And I can't help but think about all the resources going into the upkeep of seventeen baby Duggars, and what could be done with all that money. I mean, I suppose people have a right to make their own decisions about whether to have children or not, and how many, but doesn't seventeen seem a bit . . . well . . . irresponsible?

Not to mention . . . OUCH.

Say it with me ladies: OW-FREAKING-CH.

Just Another Random Monday

Do you know any of those people who use the word "literally" alot?

As in, the classic: "I was literally scared to death. TO DEATH, I tell you."

Sheesh. Can't we just delete the poor word from the dictionary and put it out of its misery?

But I have to say, this weekend was a pain in the neck.

Literally.

I woke up on Saturday, full of resolve to swim laps and reward myself with a trip to the Farmer's Market, tried to do something outrageous -- like look to the right -- and HURT MY NECK.

Seriously, how stupid is that? I spent most of Saturday laying on the couch and whining about how I couldn't move my head.

(Which reminds me of a friend of mine who once thought her dog had had a stroke, but in fact, he had just strained his neck. Why that cracks me up today, I do not know.)

People, I'm here to tell you, you do not appreciate the normal range of motion you have with your neck. Necks are marvelous things, and I will never, ever, take mine for granted again. I'm going to give it a little grateful pat right now, just for good measure.

It IS getting better, now, thank you very much. But still -- SHEESH.

I tried to drown my sorrows with a new batch of banana ice cream, this time with toffee chips. The lesson I learned from this experiment: Toffee chips are mostly SUGAR and therefore will DISSOLVE if left to sit in the ice cream mixture to chill.

So the banana ice cream was just plain banana ice cream with a mild toffee flavor. Scrumptious nonetheless, particularly with a bit of butterscotch ice cream topping. Boy howdy.

And since I could quite easily look straight forward, Todd and I watched a movie on Saturday, too: Factory Girl. I had never even heard of Edie Sedgwick before this, but now I am totally obsessed with whether I would have been "mod" or "hippy" had I been alive in the 60's.

I've always said that I would have been a hippy anti-war activist, but that was before I had fully appreciated the makeup that the Edie Sedgwick-types wore.

Have you SEEN that makeup? The dark, dark eyeshadow, the thick eyeliner, and the FALSE EYELASHES?!? It makes me swoon. And the earrings? Man, oh man. Give me some thigh-high boots and a polka-dotted minidress and I would be perfectly happy. Shoot, I think I could make my hair look mod right now, with the cut I so fortuitously already have.



And yes, now that you mention it, I DO think I would steer clear of the propensity to jam heroin filled syringes into my ass THROUGH MY CLOTHES. No need to go overboard, people.

The 48-Hour Marriage

This weekend Todd and I "escaped" from normal life to enjoy a day together. Because it was supposed to be the rainiest of rainy days (which it totally wasn't, after all), we didn't make any outdoor plans and instead cooked a fabulous dinner and watched not one, but two movies.

Movie #1 was Babel. I resisted this movie for a long time because I am currently in an anti-Brad Pitt phase of my life. (Dude, you can't dump Rachel and not expect some fallout.) All I have to say about it now is if you absolutely must watch it, at least make sure you are up to date on your chosen anti-depressant. Because if you combined that movie with the song "Yesterday," you would have a big-time global weapon on your hands. Mass suicides would ensue.

Happily, our Movie #2 was one of my old favorites, Same Time Next Year. I don't think it was as well-received around the house as I had hoped, though, and I've been doing some thinking about why.

I fell in love with this movie in a past life when I was very unhappily married. At that time, the story of two people, both married to others, carrying out a 25-year affair one weekend of every year, seemed like the most romantic thing ever. I was convinced that was the best I could ever hope for -- a really great guy on the side.

But now, in my current life, I have that great guy as the main course, every single day. I don't have to wait for one weekend a year. So the whole adultery thing isn't quite so attractive.

And the whole we-have-such-a-wonderful-relationship-that-we-can-sustain-it-in-only-one-weekend-a-year thing? It just seems like cheating.

No, not just cheating on their respective spouses, but cheating as in that's-not-a-real-relationship-at-all kind of cheating.

Because really, who couldn't sustain that kind of attraction for 48 hours out of a year? Think of all the things that don't have to clog up those 48 hours: laundry, badly behaved pets, conversations about money, cleaning the bathroom, summertime colds, etc., etc. It's easy to envy them, in a way, seeing as how they've essentially cut out all the steamed broccoli of life and cut right to the chocolate cake.

But then there are the other things that won't be in those 48 hours: long lazy Saturday evenings on the couch, cooking dinner together, teaching the dog to give hugs, earnest conversations about life, falling asleep by a campfire, explaining to your niece that she's descended from monkeys, etc., etc. All those "broccoli" things.

And I think that what I know now is that without the broccoli to hold you together, one of you might end up with chocolate cake and the other with banana pudding or something. Or you might both end up with chocolate cake, but one has suddenly developed some kind of chocolate allergy and the other is . . .

Okay, maybe the cake analogy can only go so far. What I mean is, the great thing about a 365-day marriage is that you and your chosen honey can grow and change and have adventures TOGETHER, not just talk about your adventures once a year.

Now, don't get me wrong, I still love the movie. Those two are so cute together you'll need to eat a potato chip after watching it. But I don't envy them anymore. (I mean, aside from Ellen Burstyn's fabulous skin. That woman can't ever have had a zit in her life.)

I'll keep my 365-day marriage, thank you very much. Broccoli and all.

Rising Above My Inner Buffer (or, Self-Improvement's a Bitch!)

Ack. That pretty much sums up my week.

I think I've mentioned on here before that I've been watching The Riches on Monday nights. Suddenly, I've realized that it is actually the only thing I'm watching these days. (I even let the series finale of Gilmore Girls get by me . . . )

If you're not watching this show, you should be. The premise is that a group of itinerant scam artists, through an appropriately wacky series of events, begin impersonating a wealthy family and trying to live their lives. Hilarity, of course, ensues, but so do the moral quandries.

What moral quandry, you ask? Not whether it is okay to "steal the American dream," but whether you are wrong for wanting that dream in the first place. The Malloys (now known as the Riches) refer to "normal" people living on the grid as "buffers." This late in the TV season, they are discovering that, slowly but surely, they are becoming more like buffers than they would like.

I'm a buffer. I've never been anything but a buffer, and I guess that's what I'll always be. But, while I don't plan to become an itinerant scam artist anytime soon, I'm beginning to wonder if buffer-dom is all there is.

I think a mentioned a few posts back that I am currently reading two different self-improvement-type books these days. The programs involve a lot of stream-of-consciousness writing and meditating. I'm realizing that my mind, on any average day, is cluttered up with a lot of crap. Pure buffer crap.

Bills, household chores, cooking, work issues, weight issues -- this is the stuff that goes meandering through my head all the time. Seriously -- ALL THE TIME. People, my brain is not a very interesting place to be. I'm quite bored with it, if you want to know the truth.

So . . . where was I going with this? I don't know. I guess the goal at the moment is to clear out the ol' noggin -- much like a spring gutter cleaning -- and try to fill it up with some better stuff. Some less buffer stuff.

Or maybe just less stuff, period.

Do you ever wonder what your brain would do if it had the space and the time? If it was just left alone FOR FIVE MINUTES without worrying about the minutae of everyday life.

You might solve world hunger.

Develop the power of telekenesis.

Write the great American novel.

Heck, you might actually hear an answer to all those frantic prayers you send up a hundred times a day.

It's just a thought, I suppose. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to meditate. For 8 whole minutes.