A Good Sport

Most of you know that I work a few weekends a month with the body that sanctions mixed martial arts, boxing, and tough man competitions across the state. I hear it all the time, “I can’t believe you like watching something so barbaric.” I know it’s hard to believe that someone who has never broken a bone or been into playing competitive sports would want to spend her weekends with people who fight for fun. Normally, I'm a girly girl, into heels, pearls, and playing well with others, but I confess that I do love MMA. And if I’m violating some sort of rule by blogging about this part-time job, please tell me quickly so I can remove this blog post haste!

First, let me go on the record to say this about mixed martial arts (MMA): Yes, they fight but it’s not about fighting. It’s about precision, skill, competition, and strategy. And, hands down, the fighters and seconds (trainers and coaches who do their thing in the corner of the ring or cage) are probably some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They are humble, friendly, and focused, and they follow directions without a hassle. They make my job easy.

MMA is different from other sports; the rivalries you find in other arenas just don’t seem to exist here. I supposed they do when fighters get to “the big time”, but from what I’ve seen, since the sport is relatively new to NC, the fighters are all of the mindset that they’re working together to make a good name for the sport and to provide quality entertainment for the fans.  It’s not at all unusual to see fighters, once they leave the cage, working together in the back on holds and escapes, learning from whatever just happened in the ring. It’s not out of the ordinary to see large groups of “opposing teams” praying together before a fight and making plans to meet at Waffle House after. The sportsmanship and camaraderie is, I would venture to say, unparalleled by any other sport. It’s pretty amazing.

Not too long ago, I had the opportunity to work a fight in the western part of the state. It was a slugfest and both men were battered and banged up by the end of the second round. In the third round, the crowd favorite unleashed a monster jab to his opponent’s head, splitting at least a 2 inch gash in his noggin, effectively ending the fight. To say it was nasty doesn’t begin to do it justice.

The crowd went wild and the hometown boy had another mark in his win column. No one was supposed to care about the bloody pulp of a loser, right? Wrong.

I was in the back with the defeated fighter when Mr. Hometown Proud immediately walked over, and meekly said, “Man, you need stitches. My corner can sew you up.” And he did. The coach came over and sewed up the loser while the winner, who could have been out taking photos with the fans or watching the next fight, sat right there with him, encouraging and supporting him during this impromptu surgery (which was pretty fascinating to watch, if I do say so myself). As much as the loser congratulated the winner, the winner consoled the loser and apologized for his pain. In that moment, it didn’t matter who won and who lost. They weren’t opponents; they weren’t enemies. They were warriors, nursing their wounds and sharing a love of the sport, appreciating the camaraderie and determination it takes to enter the octagon and come out the other side. It’s fighters like that, who display this remarkable level of sportsmanship on a continual basis, that make this girly girl proud to be an MMA fan.

Monday Music Review- Matt Nathanson

Monday Music Review on Sunday? Yes, because Monday comes quickly and I want you to be prepared in the morning when you roll out of bed in need of coffee and a good tune to get you moving. So, for this blog, the Monday Music Review (which may become a regular feature) comes a day early because it’s my party. And that’s the way I want it.

A few weeks ago, I introduced you to Jensen Ackles and I told you he was the eye candy on a few YouTube videos. While surfing around for some of Jensen’s songs I hadn’t yet heard, I happened upon a great song entitled Just You. The video was Jensen’s photos but the comments included a heated discussion about whether Jensen or Matt Nathanson was singing the song. That reminded me that Matt Nathanson had crossed my musical radar before. Oh hello, Matt Nathanson, nice to see you again.

I first heard his name on Sugarland’s Love on the Inside album (2008), as Jennifer Nettles said the bonus song Come on Get Higher was written by Matt. Matt’s version of the song helped send his album Some Mad Hope platinum; you probably heard it on mainstream radio since they played it constantly.

Matt’s music is a blend of folk and rock; and the reviewers make a huge deal about the fact that his lyrics are supported by a twelve-string acoustic guitar. I don’t really know much about guitars but apparently, more strings equals more difficult and more amazing.

Matt’s songs tell stories but they are written in such a magical way that you have no difficulty following along and putting your own life’s story into the video in your mind. Every Matt Nathanson song reminds me of someone who is now, or who used to be, in my life. That makes me happy and sad at the very same moment. Not a lot of artists can hit you on both ends of your emotional spectrum like that. Those are the kinds of artists, though, that I like to keep on my playlist.

Matt has a great sound and even better lyrics; he’s got the words for everything you want to say even when you didn't know you wanted to say anything. It’s as if Matt is pouring all of his confusion, heartbreak, and hope out on paper. In the moments when misery loves company, Matt Nathanson will be your friend with Bulletproof Weeks. With the lyrics, “talking to what’s left of you, and watching what I say... you sit on your bed, just waiting for right words to come”, I can picture one of those break-ups where one person is trying too hard to fix what’s broken and the other is walking away for a reason they can’t even express. It’s a painful confusion that’s familiar, at one point in life or another, to each of us, yet after Matt gets hold of it and gives it words, you feel like you would have missed something if you’d not been in that struggle for love. Not that you would want to do it again, but that you look back on it differently somehow. It takes an incredibly gifted songwriter to reframe a memory and still make it applicable to the masses; Matt Nathanson has done this remarkably well.

With great tunes like Wedding Dress, Still, Gone, and Sooner Surrender, and Falling Apart, Matt Nathanson’s Some Mad Hope should be in your music collection. And, he has a new album coming out in the Spring 2011 so stay tuned.

Curly Customer Service

For anyone who has curly hair, be it a blessing or a curse in your mind, you know the challenges of the maintenance. If you look great at home, and there’s humidity, you will not look great by the time you get to work. If you clip it up in the morning, you are bound to that clip all day. There is no changing the style from day to evening. If you find a product that works great, it will either stop working in a few months or they will stop making it. And good luck finding a hairdresser that understands that thinning shears aren’t the answer, that layers will not always work, and that when it dries, it will be shorter so you can’t cut to the length you see, you cut to the length you anticipate.

A few years ago, I found a company that understood the curly dilemma and I’ve been a loyal Ouidad customer ever since. This company trains stylists and let me assure you, they are well compensated for this specialized training. I have been known to drive to Pineville, which makes a haircut an all day experience.  They have a fantastic line of products that, after three years of continual use, still work like day one (and let me assure you, they are a bit pricey but are worth their weight in gold to this curly girl). This week, on top of the fact that they donate a portion of their proceeds to charities that support cancer survivors, I found yet another reason to love Ouidad.

I placed an on-line order (which, by the way, was not cheap) and there was a glitch in the system so somehow, I placed two on-line orders. While I’m willing to drive far enough to consider a haircut a day trip and abandon all rules of frugality to get the products, this duplicate order was a considerable blow to the already stretched budget. So, did I call to cancel or did I just hang on to the second order and use it when I got around to it? I pondered. And decided I’d decide after lunch. I always think more clearly on a full stomach. Within 30 minutes, the phone rang and it was a Ouidad customer service representative who noticed my duplicate order and was verifying that this was really what I meant to order. I explained my computer glitch and she immediately cancelled one order. I was happily back within my budget and Ouidad gets massive points for having proactive customer service.

In this day and age of terrible customer service, and rest assured I have those experiences too, it’s nice to know that there are still companies that are paying attention, that care about their customers, and that are looking out for the curly girls. We need all the help we can get J

What's Up, Weather Channel?

As a general rule, I don’t watch the news. I’m either not at home or I’m doing other things or I’m just not interested in hearing about all of the negative things going on in the world. I do, however, like to know what’s going on in the world of weather. Well, let me clarify that. Not all things weather; I really don’t care about how the Jet is Streaming or what effect the Lake Effect Snow is having. And, I’m sure I’m not the only one who would happily forego the colored ozone warnings and the Doppler radar loops to get right to the “important” information, the numbers that hold the answer the question- is it too cold for a skirt or should I wear pants? Because really, don’t we watch the weather simply to know what to wear? In a deliberate effort to skip all of the other news and speed up this decision-making (and subsequent ironing) process, I hop on over to the Weather Channel, which is supposed to give me Weather on the 8s and a running scroll at the bottom of my screen with the high/lows and extended forecast for my area towns. Simple. Easy. WRONG.

In true ‘never where I need to be when I need to be there’ fashion, I’m never on the Weather Channel on an 8 so I’m stuck watching either A. a story about a group of guys in a pick-up truck that are trying to track down a tornado or B. the forecast for some far-away place that I have about a snowball’s chance of ever visiting. And since I know my patience will not survive until an 8, I count on the scroll. And what a handy dandy thing that should be. BUT ISN’T. When my town appears, it tells me the temperature NOW is a degree in the teens (because it’s somewhere around 5:45 a.m.). Fine. No problem. The next thing it tells me is tomorrow’s high. WHAT? Did I blink? What about today’s high? This morning, the scroll took me from ‘now’ to Saturday and on through the predicted highs until next Wednesday. And then we went through four or five other cities in the same format- now, tomorrow… to Wednesday, before coming back to mine and again, today’s high was nowhere to be seen. And then we went to commercials, lots of commercials. By the time we got back from that break, we were at an 8 and I thought, “Yahoo, finally weather!” But NOOOOOO. I had to watch the radar loop a few times from a few different angles AND the colored ozone warnings (particulates in the air today, friends, breath with caution), AND the travel forecast for a ski slope in WVA I’d never heard of, AND the historical almanac of last year versus yesterday BEFORE I learned that long-sleeves (without a coat, if I walked fast) would be fine for today. And by this time, my hair was starting to frizz and I was on the verge of being late for work. I think “I was waiting on the weather” probably ranks up there with “the dog ate my homework” as far as excuses go but what can you do, right? 

I would really like to call The Weather Channel and find out 1. Why the scroll skips over the most crucial piece of information and 2. Who decided on the order of the slides in the Weather on the 8s feature because it’s really not working for me. I bet if I called they wouldn’t talk to me. They, after all, are probably too busy chasing down a tornado to worry about a little thing like the weather.

Which Way to the Which Wich?

One day this week, the co-workers and I headed out for lunch at a place we don’t too often frequent. It’s funny that when we do go there, someone always asks, “Why don’t we come here more often?” and we never have a good answer. I think that because it’s a little out of the way, we almost forget it’s there. But it does make my day when someone says, “Which way to the Which Wich?”

Which Wich is a “superior sandwich shop” that takes brown bagging to a whole other level.

(Photo taken from the Which Wich website. Let's hope this disclaimer keeps me out of copyright infringement jail.)

How it works: Let’s say you want a buffalo chicken sandwich (which is, by the way, which wich I had and it was yummy!). You check the menu and see that the chicken sandwiches are category 4. So, you go to the metal bin labeled 4 and pull out a pre-printed bag that lists all the chicken sandwiches (plain, buffalo, chicken parm, etc.), condiments, and available cheeses and other toppings. Beside each item is a circle, very much like the SAT’s bubble score sheet. Once you're over the high school flashbacks, grab a marker and fill in the bubbles next to your desired sandwich type and toppings. You write your name (or some other clever phrase) on the bag, hand it to the cashier and pay. You get excited when you realize your receipt has a coupon for a free cookie on your next visit. You fill up your cup and wait until they call your name. They hand you the bag and off you go. Ta da! You have a Which Wich!

Why it works: Which Wich works for several reasons. One, there are about 50 sandwich options so if you can’t find a Which Wich you like, you probably have a whole other set of issues. (If you’re not a lunch person, they have breakfast wiches too.) Two, you can see all of your options printed right there on your bag so you don’t miss a topping you didn’t realize they had. Because, let’s face it, fewer things are more annoying than getting to your table and realizing you could have had pepper jack cheese instead of cheddar. Three, no one around you knows what you ordered. It’s like a sandwich privacy clause, and sometimes, if you have “special tastes”, you might need that. Not everyone likes announcing to the world what they’re eating (says the girl who spent all of the third grade (and one night last week) eating peanut butter and dill pickle sandwiches).  Four, the prices are reasonable. And last but not least, the Which Wich is just across Lake Boone Trail from Rex Hospital so there’s usually some Dr. Cutie McWich eating there as well. And let’s face it, half the reason for going out to lunch is the scenery. J

So the next time someone asks you what’s for lunch, grab your purse ((and your receipt from last time- free cookie, remember?) and ask, “Which way to the Which Wich?”

A Year Later...

“Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.”  ~Lamartine

One year ago today, the phone rang and time stood still. My grandfather had joined the ranks of the angels in Heaven and my world was suddenly and irrevocably depopulated.

He’d been in the hospital for a few weeks and we knew things weren’t good but nothing prepares you for the moment of that phone call. In the same way, I’ve learned, nothing prepares you for how to move on from that moment. I’m not sure that I’ve done it very well; in all honesty, I’m almost glad I haven’t. That the heartache still lingers tells me that the very special place he held in my heart is still there. And will remain.

In the years between my grandmother’s passing and his journey home, we worried that he would be lonely or that he wouldn’t fair well living alone. What started out as a little mission to keep tabs on things turned into some of my most cherished memories.

Thursday nights, 8:00 sharp, I’d call him. If I didn’t call him, my phone was ringing by 8:02. Everyone who spent any time with me knew that time slot was taken, no exceptions. Sometimes we’d talk for 5 minutes, sometimes 45. And if there were an occasional glitch in my schedule, I always found a substitute (and rumor has it, when he realized it wasn’t me on the line, there was a disappointed “oh, where is she?”). I always knew he loved me best! J

We’d play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire over the phone. We’d play Are You Smarter than a 5^th Grader? (He was; me, not so much. Come to find out, when we’d play, it was a rerun of the day’s earlier episode… that he’d already watched! Sneaky fella, my grandpa!) We’d talk about the weather and if there’s a man on the planet who knows more weather trivia than he, I’d really like to meet him. We’d talk about current events and news. Between the two of us, we had some great solutions for most of the world’s problems. We’d talk about family members I’d never met. He’d tell me about things from the past- his travels square dancing with my grandma, his work at the plant, or more recent things- the week’s trips around town, visits to the turtle pond with a friend, or this or that. Nothing that really mattered yet everything that really matters. And every call ended the same way:

Me: “I’ll call you next week.”

Him: “Not if I call you first.”

Me: “I love you.”

Him: “I love you, too.”

I learned more about him in the last few years of his life than I did in the first 30 of mine. That, as I look back, saddens me. I have kicked myself 10,000 times for not initiating the Thursday night phone call earlier, while both he and my grandmother were around. I’d give nearly anything under the sun to have one more call but then again, the difficult thing about having such a profound tradition is finding a new normal when it’s gone. I'm not quite there yet.

Because I leave for work in the dark and I get back home in the dark, I took some time this weekend to celebrate the life of my grandfather by releasing balloons in his honor. I’m pretty sure there’s room in his mansion in Heaven for them. I imagine that the view from his window looks out over my house and that he keeps an eye on me… when he’s not brushing up on his trivia for Millionaire and 5^th Grader. I’m also absolutely certain that he checks his watch at 8:00 sharp on Thursday nights up there, just the same way I do down here.

Miss you madly. Think of you always. Love you forever.

Midweek Movie Review- The Town

I know what you’re thinking, “It’s not Wednesday. Why are we having the midweek movie review a day early?” Well, because we can! And don’t you think that sometimes Tuesday is as much of a hump day as Wednesday?

So, here we go. Welcome to The Town. 

Doug (played by Ben Affleck who coincidentally wrote the screenplay and directed this film) and his three best friends are a band of smooth operating bank robbers. Things are going well until they take bank manager Claire hostage but let her go unharmed. James, who can’t afford a third strike, worries about leaving a witness so Doug volunteers to “take care of it”. But when he meets her, it’s not that simple. I suppose no one told Doug that the number one rule of being a bank robber is do not fall in love with the one woman who can send you to prison. So Doug’s left to choose between his boys and his girl, his “family” and his future.

There are three, well maybe four, reasons I really liked The Town.

1-      Boston: Having traveled to Boston, it was fun to see some landmarks and familiar places. I don’t know about you but I love watching movies filmed in places I’ve been. It makes me feel like some sort of jet-setting world traveler.

2-      This conversation between Doug and James:

Doug: I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people.

James: ...Whose car we takin'?

I think everyone needs one of these forever friends, you know, one of those people who has your back, who would go anywhere with you, no matter what. Not that I'd invite a forever friend to go with me to beat someone up, but somehow it makes me feel better to know that I could if I wanted to.

3-      The car chase. It was as good as the one in Vantage Point. Almost.

4-      Ben Affleck- talented actor, seasoned screenwriter, up-and-coming director, and exceptional wearer of t-shirts and shades. That Jennifer Garner is one lucky lady.

The Town would be a fun date night movie, guns (the semi-automatic kind), green, and greed for the guys; guns (the bicep kind), romance and a very sweet voice-over letter for the girls.

Check out The Town and when the armored truck runs into the souvenir shop outside the ball park, think of me. I bought a Red Sox shirt there. I love Boston.

Flipping the Switch

I consider myself to be fairly intelligent. I like logic, structure, and reason. While I don’t always claim to have a hefty supply of common sense, some things just completely escape my understanding. And I’m not talking about big things. I don’t understand global warming and that doesn’t bother me too much. I don’t keep up with politics and I haven’t read the health care reform laws; these things don’t fret me.

But there are things that keep me up at night, things that other people probably never notice or if they do notice, they don’t think twice about them. Prime example: the light switches in my house. Bet that’s not what you thought I’d say. I’ll give you a second to get on the same page with me.

There are three bathrooms in my home, two of which have light switches by the door with two switches on the plate- one for the lights, one for the fan. In one bathroom, the switch controlling the light is closer to the door; in the other, the fan’s switch is closer to the door. And I ask myself often, usually when I flip the wrong switch, “Why aren’t they the same?”

Why wouldn’t there be a standard system? The light switch should be nearer to the door, or the fan switch should be, it doesn’t really matter which, I just want them to be the same. Consistency, logic, reason. I can’t control much of what goes on in my life; I should be able to get a little consistency in something as small and trivial as switches. And if consistency can’t be obtained, I’d really like a logical reason for it. I think I would sleep better at night if this little electrical mystery were solved.

In the same vein, my kitchen and dining area share essentially one big room. The double switch plate in the middle controls both areas. And, wouldn’t you know it, the switch closer to the kitchen controls the light fixture (chandelier, if you’re being fancy) over the dining table and the switch closer to the table controls the light in the kitchen. In what world does it make sense that the switches wouldn’t be near to the things they control? Again, I think I’d sleep better if I knew this answer.

Was the electrician just not thinking clearly? Was he just trying to add some whimsy or keep me on my toes? Were these mistakes or is there some perfectly electrifying and wonderfully logical reason for this cross-wiring and flip switching?  

If anyone knows the answers to these questions, please let me know. You know where to find me… I’ll be right here waiting on you to get back from checking your own bathroom switches to see if the one closer to the door controls the fan or the light.

Monday Music Review- Jason Manns

Monday Music Review on Sunday? Yes, because Monday comes quickly and I want you to be prepared in the morning when you roll out of bed in need of coffee and a good tune to get you moving. So, for this blog, the Monday Music Review comes a day early because it’s my party. And that’s the way I want it.

Welcome to my world, Jason Manns. If we were playing that fun game of “Who would you want to be trapped with in an elevator?”, I believe you'd make my short list.

Jason collaborated with Jensen Ackles on Crazy Love, a remake of the Van Morrison classic (and I believe that Michael Buble did a version too but don’t hold me to that). This song is simple, sweet, and makes you want to slow dance in your kitchen. If you have someone to dance with, that is; please don’t slow dance in your kitchen alone. People talk about people who do that. J

Crazy Love piqued my interest so I did a little research and found several more fantastic songs.  Jason Manns has a sound all his own and he sticks to what he knows, giving the listener a steady romantic vibe yet somehow working in enough variety that the songs don't all sound alike. 

When you need some romantic words, look no further than any Jason Manns song. Your Song, Journey, and Without You have Hallmark-worthy phrases and just take a look at these lines from Vision: “Next to you, everyone else disappears… I look into the room but all I see is you. I’m not complaining, it’s a beautiful view.” Let’s say it together: awwwwww.

I can picture Jason singing in small, intimate acoustic shows rather than large stage shows. He doesn’t seem to be interested in fame or name recognition, Jason clearly just loves to sing and I just love to listen.

A Novel Idea

Why is it that 4-day work weeks feel like they last forever? And was it just me or was this week just strange all the way around? I’m on day three of blaming the full moon. Tonight, to hide from the week I’ve had, I’m spending a few hours with someone who makes me feel smart, and successful, and like I have absolutely everything under control.

Stephanie Plum, the brainchild of author Janet Evanovich, works as an “apprehension agent” AKA bounty hunter for her cousin Vinnie’s bail company in Trenton, New Jersey. Stephanie has no formal training but since bounty hunters only get paid when they bring in their skip, Stephanie is gung-ho to get the job done. She is, after all, behind on rent and facing eviction… again. To say she goes off half-cocked would be an understatement because she usually leaves her gun, unloaded of course, in the cookie jar at her apartment, an apartment that is guarded only by Rex the hamster, who spends more time hiding in his soup can than standing guard over the place.

Stephanie is smart enough to know that every super heroine needs a sidekick or two. Sadly, though, they chose her instead of the other way around. Enter Lula- a former prostitute who has given up her call girl ways but not her call girl wardrobe. Lula’s 300 pound frame, always squeezed into something neon and spandex, is matched only by her 300 pound attitude. And then we have Grandma Mazur. The biggest thing about Grandma Mazur is her purse and the hand cannon she keeps in it.

Stephanie is also smart enough to sometimes know that she’s in over her head. And lucky for her, she has two men ready to bail her out. Jo Morelli, the handsome Italian police detective who Stephanie hates to love and loves to hate. Their on-again, off-again relationship has been going on since high school. And then there’s Ranger. Oh, Ranger. Everyone needs a Ranger- a hardcore superhero of a bounty hunter who seems to always show up at the exact right moment. Morelli and Ranger fight each other as much as they fight to save Stephanie from the troubles she finds herself in.

And, I haven’t even begun to tell you about the cast of hilarious, larger than life characters that live in Trenton and cross Stephanie’s path.

Let me just say, don’t read a Plum novel with a drink. If you do, one of three things will happen, guaranteed.

1. You will laugh so hard that drink will come out your nose.
2. You will laugh so hard that you will spit your drink all over your couch.
3. You will laugh so hard that you will pee your pants.

Don't say I didn't warn you!

Stephanie and the gang will take you on countless adventures in the 16 or so novels of the Stephanie Plum Series, which are all conveniently titled with a number (One for the Money, Two for the Dough, Three to Get Deadly, well, you get the idea). While reading them in order is recommended by the author, you don’t really have to; there’s enough recap in the beginnings to catch you up on anything you missed.

So, give Stephanie Plum a read and give me a call; we’ll talk about the rumored movie and who should be cast as whom.

It Must Have Been the Moon

What in the world is wrong with people? I realize there’s been a full moon this week but has anyone else noticed that we seem to be in some sort of alternate universe where common courtesy and decency have gone flying right out of the proverbial window?

Prepare to be amazed, and not in a good way.

A little background: I’m a creature of habit. My mornings are the same; I do things in the same order (probably because if I didn’t, I’d forget something important like mascara). To get a fill-up, I stop at the same gas station and pull up to the same pump. It doesn’t have my name on it or anything but it’s my pump. And you can have it… when I’m not there.

So, yesterday, as I’m pulling into my favorite gas station (that is always well-lit and populated, safety first so my dad won’t worry quite so much!), I see this huge pick-up truck barreling through the parking lot. He drove past empty pumps, past five sets of pumps in total to pull up to my pump. MY pump. At 6 a.m. BEFORE I’ve finished my can of diet Dew. So, I huffed and puffed and probably gave him my very best evil look. I might have even said something ugly in the privacy of my vehicle but I took the high road, backed up, and drove down three pumps to an empty one. An empty one that is not mine, mind you. The OCD in me was flaring up! So, a bit annoyed, I get out to pump the gas.

And, any guesses on what happened next?

Without getting his gas, he struts three pumps down to ask me, “Do you have a problem?” Oh, big mistake buddy. You do not ask a girl running on half-caff whose pump you just stole if she has a problem. Because, oh yeah, she does. And it’s you. He then told me he didn’t like my attitude. At that moment, my “attitude” wanted to introduce him to my pepper spray but luckily for me, the Deputy Sheriff who was pumping gas nearby suggested that Mr. Psycho Pumpstealer find his way back to his vehicle and leave me alone.

So, now I wonder what in the world would possess someone (and by someone, I mean a 6 foot tall MAN) to act like that? I mean, who speeds through a relatively crowded (by 6 a.m. standards of crowded) parking lot, passes empty pumps, gets the pump he wants, doesn’t even hook up to the pump, and then walks three pumps down to confront a lady about the pump he got but apparently didn’t really want to use? Who does that? Psycho Pumpstealers do that.

It must be the full moon.  

Oh, and, thank you, Mr. Deputy, for saving Mr. Psycho Pumpstealer from the half-caff’d gas pumper with the bad attitude. I’m sure he appreciates it.

Midweek Movie Review- The Departed

Usually we save the indulgences for the weekends. We stay up late on Friday or Saturday nights, we eat junky stuff and swear we'll get back in the gym on Monday. We do all the things we don't make time for during the week. I think we should start indulging on Wednesdays, to get us over the hump and motivate us for the rest of the week. Tonight, I left the dishes in the sink and the laundry in the dryer, put on my favorite bumming around outfit, popped some corn, and settled into my favorite spot on the couch to watch....

So let me get this straight. Colin Sullivan (played by the distractingly hot Matt Damon) grew up under the wing of Irish-American mobster Frank Costello (played by the always creepy Jack Nicholson) and has infiltrated the state police to keep the mob one step ahead of the boys in blue. Billy Costigan (played by cutie Leonardo DiCaprio) is an undercover cop who has infiltrated the mob to keep the badges one step ahead of the bad guys. Colin and Billy get absorbed in their double lives and things are going well…. until both sides realize there’s a mole in the midst and then the crossing, double crossing, uncrossing, and every other kind of crossing begins. Oh, and did I mention, they’re both seeing the same woman? That’s crossed up on a whole other level. And, a note to viewers who live with little ears- 237 F bombs in this film. So many that they start to get a little ridiculous and then you tune them out and then you wonder if any word can be hyphenated around an F bomb, sort of like a little F bomb word sandwich...

The Departed is a tangled up hot mess, made a bit warmer by a fantastic cast that also includes Mark Wahlberg (who, by the way, has a terrible haircut but looks dang fine in a shoulder holster), Martin Sheen, and Alex Baldwin. At 2.5 hours, this movie twists and turns more than the Loch Ness Monster roller coaster at Busch Gardens. Once you hit Play, don’t get up because if you do, you’ll miss something and be forever lost. You’ll check your watch with about 20 minutes left and wonder how Director Martin Scorsese could possibly tie up all the loose ends. And then when he does, you’ll be surprised that two gripping hours of cat and mouse can end that way. And, you'll have one final lingering question, or at least I did. 

I don’t know if it was the day I had today or the intensity in which I had to focus my attention on this movie but friends, I’m exhausted. I didn’t realize that a good guy pretending to be a bad guy and a bad guy pretending to be a good guy could be so much to keep up with.

Pull Up a Chair.... at The Flying Biscuit Cafe

There are certain messages that pop into my email (or facebook inbox, as the case may be) that never fail to bring a smile to my face and a quick clearing to my calendar. These emails come from a phenomenal friend who has taken on the role of master scheduler for The Funky Lunch Bunch, a group of old friends and new friends who meet for lunch, laughter, and usually (but not today) one fifth each of a fantastic dessert.

Today’s FLB adventure was to The Flying Biscuit Cafe, a cute little place tucked quaintly under a bright orange awning in Cameron Village. There are hot air balloons painted on one wall and an eclectic assortment of signs and other wall hangings dot the others. Kitschy, but in an adorable little way. The Flying Biscuit Café is open from 7a.m. to 10p.m. and serves breakfast all day long. While you wait for your order, the friendly wait staff brings you brightly colored plates of sugar-sprinkled biscuits and apple butter. Yum!

I’d like to tell you all about the lunch I had at The Flying Biscuit Café today but in all honesty, I had breakfast. We all did, well, 4 out of 5 of us did… and I was too preoccupied with the tales being told at our table to ask the one who ordered a real lunch how it was. But, I think he left a clean plate so it must have been pretty good. (Follow-up: I’ve confirmed that the 3B Chicken Sandwich was a hit!)

I had a pancake, scrambled eggs, chicken sausage, and “creamy, dreamy” grits… and the aforementioned while-you-wait biscuit. There were several times I thought, “I should stop eating but it is all so good”. That thought quickly turned into, “I’m going to have to do extra Zumba to make up for this” and finally, “I wish I’d worn elastic-waist pants… do I even own elastic-waist pants?”

And we talked, and more than that, we laughed… a lot. We laughed to the point that the people at adjoining tables wanted to join us. We’re fun, we’re friendly, we are the Funky Lunch Bunch. And in the middle of the day, in the middle of a stressful workweek, that’s even better than a flying biscuit.

So, if you see the Funky Lunch Bunch while you’re out and about, come over and say hello; chances are we’ll invite you to pull up a chair and join us. But you’ll probably have to get your own dessert; one-fifth is about as much as I’m willing to share!

Being Responsible

A few days after starting this blog, I fell victim to a frivolous purchase of a magazine with the headline “What’s Your Next Chapter?” I thought it would have all the answers, or at least a few good ideas for blog posts. As you can imagine, the magazine didn’t live up to my expectation of telling me what path my life should take over the next 12 months but it did reveal a thought-provoking morsel of goodness… a quote taken from My Stroke of Insight, a novel by Jill Bolte Taylor. Ms. Taylor, a stroke survivor, after realizing the impact the attitudes of her nurses and caregivers were having on her recovery, requested a sign be placed on the door to her room.

And it said, “Please be responsible for the energy you bring into this room.”

I pause. I read that again. I tear out the page.

“Please be responsible for the energy you bring into this room.”

In elementary science, we learned that no two objects can occupy the same space; as we get older we learn that no two attitudes can either. As two outlooks collide, one will push the other. You have the ability to propel someone toward a better day. You have an opportunity to leave the world, or a single person, a little better than you found them. Being responsible for your energy means that you recognize the weight of your power and that you make a conscious choice to use your influence wisely; if you can’t use it wisely, I hope you choose to not use it at all, and that you never abuse your influential privilege by pushing someone toward a place worse than you found them.

This, for me, was a great reminder today to be contagious and infectious, to contaminate those around me with some positive energy. I might not save the world, I might not make history, but I just might make my happy little corner of the world… Something More.

Monday Music Review- Jensen Ackles

Monday Music Review on Sunday? Yes, because Monday comes quickly and I want you to be prepared in the morning when you roll out of bed in need of coffee and a good tune to get you moving. So, for this blog, the Monday Music Review (which may become a regular feature) comes a day early because it’s my party. And that’s the way I want it.

Hello there, Jensen Ackles. Where did you come from and better yet, how long can you stay?

Let’s recap: Christian Kane led us to Steve Carlson. Steve Carlson has now led us to Jensen Ackles. Steve and Jensen, from what I can determine, collaborated to write a few songs including Wasted Jamie which, as it turns out, was a song about a failed blind date set-up between Steve Carlson and a girl in Vegas who turned out years later to be one of Tiger Wood’s “friends” and Where My River Flows which is quickly turning into one of my favorite songs. Jensen collaborated with some other artists too but we’ll get to those connections in the upcoming weeks. (I keep expecting Kevin Bacon to pop as these degrees of separation progress…)

Jensen Ackles had roles in Supernatural, Smallville, and Dawson’s Creek. He was also in Dark Angel and Days of Our Lives and yet, he was not on my radar. Remind me first thing in the morning to get that thing checked; it’s obviously broken.

If you YouTube Jensen, you’ll find lots of videos that have him as the eye candy but other singers as the vocals. I believe, in the above link to Where My River Flows, Jensen wrote it but Steve Carlson sings it (so you know it's gonna be good!) In his biographical information, not much is mentioned about him as a songwriter or singer but Jensen Ackles may be an up-and-comer who will be on the major league music scene soon. In the meantime, take a moment and enjoy the Jensen view. You’ll be glad you did.

Money Well Spent- Purse Hook

Not so long ago, I went out to dinner with some friends. I got up to go to the salad bar (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) and CRASH! I turned back toward to table to see that my chair had toppled over.... from the weight of my purse. My lipstick flew over here. My car keys slid over there. I am one of those people who keep everything from pepper spray to a screwdriver to gum to a sewing kit in her purse and to put it plainly, this grown-up girl scout's bag of everything was everywhere. Can we all say it together? Mortified.

But, what's a girl to do? If you're in a chair, you run the risk of ultimate humiliation. If the chair has a rounded back, you're out of luck because a purse won't hang there anyway. If you're in a booth, you could put it on the seat but then you're taking up valuable sitting space. You could put it on the floor but who know what germs or other assorted nastiness you might pick up from the place where the bottoms of people's shoes have been? You could put it in your lap but who wants to eat with a bag heavy enough to topple a chair in her lap?

The solution is so simple. It's a definite "Why didn't I think of that?" item. A purse hook. This nifty gadget was designed to fit on the edge of any table and holds your purse safely and securely. Your purse stays off the floor, is in easy reach if you need something, and is in constant sight (for those of us who have nightmares of purse snatchers.) The purse hook is light weight (so it doesn't add much weight to your already weighty purse), it folds flat for easy storage, and holds up to 20 pounds (and let me assure you, it will happily hold a purse that weighs enough to topple a chair.)

I saw purse hooks a while back but I didn't buy one. I regretted it almost immediately. Then, as all things go, I couldn't find them anymore. Right before Christmas, I sent out the search parties and found purse hooks at Hallmark, Personality Plus, and other Swoozie-esque type stores that stock all those cute monogrammed cups and hair bows and such. They come in fun designs (mine is a sassy zebra print high heel) and at around seven dollars, the purse hook is an investment in your health and your security, and it may just save you from having to crawl under someone else's table to retrieve your favorite tube of runaway lipstick.

The Gateway Mystery

In most offices, there’s a little group of people who go to lunch together and while they’re out, you wonder what they do because they come back and they’ve solved all the world’s problems, they are full of bright ideas, and they have determined whether or not the latest office rumor is fact or fiction. You might be lucky enough to get invited sometimes, or even most of the time, to the standard lunch hotspots. Around here, there’s a surefire way to know that you’re finally a member of “the group”. The words I’d waited so long to hear, the words that would tell me that I was finally “in”, came to me sometime last year and they’ve come again a few times since then. And they never fail to excite me!

“Do you want to go to Gateway?”

Oh boy! An invitation to Gateway is the equivalent to being given the secret handshake or the special knock on an always-closed door. Gateway was the holy grail of lunchtime mystery. Or so I thought…  

As it turns out, Gateway is a quaint, family-run diner tucked in a strip mall just off of Capital Boulevard on Crabtree Boulevard in Raleigh. If you didn’t know it was there, not only would you miss it but you’d be missing out.

Gateway is one of those places where everyone knows your name, and where the food is fantastic and reasonably priced. Once you’ve been a time or two, Martina, our favorite waitress and the owner, will probably know your order without you having to place it. Service is friendly (as long as you don’t try to order the Tuesday special on a day other than Tuesday) and your meal, along with cornbread sticks and rolls, comes to your table quickly. Styrofoam plates and plastic utensils are the Gateway standard but with food this good and people at neighboring tables quickly becoming friends, you won’t even notice. In a space that probably doesn’t have 20 tables and booths, Gateway doesn’t feel like a restaurant; it feels like home, where everyone’s gathered around for a good story, a great laugh, and a hearty meal.

And believe me, hearty is an understatement. If you leave Gateway with a clean plate, you must have skipped breakfast and are planning to skip supper too. If you leave Gateway hungry, as my grandfather would say, “it’s your own fault.” And, if you’re taking suggestions, I’d highly recommend the macaroni and cheese and okra.

So, the mystery has been solved. Gateway is a secret only because if we tell everyone, it’ll get crowded and the regulars will not be able to get to sit in the same booth they sit in every day, to get the same consistent favorites they get (without ordering) every day. Open from 6-2 Monday through Friday and 6-noon on Saturdays, Gateway offers a selection that includes daily specials (one meat and two veggies) as well as everyday items and lighter fare like sandwiches and burgers (the grilled ham and cheese is quite tasty!)

Give it a try, let me know what you think, and if it’s crowded when we get there, scoot over and make room for us at your booth. Martina won’t mind.

My Superhero

I have never seen the cape and tights but I’m fairly certain that my dad is a real live superhero.

He can fix anything and is willing to teach me. Because of dad, I know how to change a tire, make a perfect grilled cheese sandwich, and shoot 10 rounds in a three-inch circle. He explains things in ways I understand but has the patience of Job when I don’t.

He can diagnose car, refrigerator, and plumbing problems over the phone based on a re-enactment of the sound. He has saved me from sheer panic more times than I can count by reminding me to “start with the simplest thing first”.

Dad is the busiest person I know yet he’s never told me he doesn’t have time to listen, to talk, and to be there for me. I can’t remember a dance recital, football game performance, or special occasion that he’s missed. I never have to wonder where he’ll be because he’s always right there beside me.

Dad gave me roots; teaching me to be truthful to myself and to others, to leave things better than I found them, and to never sit around watching while other people are working.

Dad gave me wings; encouraging me to try new things, to take risks, and to stretch beyond my perceived potential to be more than what I imagined. He taught me to be a leader and, whether there are followers or not, to blaze a trail that I believe in, one that ends in contentment.

He prays for me every day. He tells me he loves me every time we talk. Sometimes, he calls just to tell me that. And that means more than he'll ever know.

He makes me laugh but he always has a handkerchief for when the tears come. He is proud of me and thinks I'm beautiful; I know because he tells me.

I hope today, on his birthday, that he knows how grateful I am for all the things he’s taught me, all the unconditional love he’s shown me, and all the unending support he's given me. I hope he knows just a few of the reasons why he’ll always be who I look to for guidance, inspiration, and encouragement. I hope he knows just how proud I am to be his daughter.

I love you, dad. (oh, and Happy Birthday!)

Midweek Movie- The Professional

Usually we save the indulgences for the weekends. We stay up late on Friday or Saturday nights, we eat junky stuff and swear we'll get back in the gym on Monday. We do all the things we don't make time for during the week. I think we should start indulging on Wednesdays, to get us over the hump and motivate us for the rest of the week. Tonight, I left the dishes in the sink and the laundry in the dryer, put on my favorite bumming around outfit, popped some corn, and settled into my favorite spot on the couch to watch....

Well hello, Leon. Tall, dark, handsome, brooding Leon.  Leon is a Cleaner, a loaner hitman who unintentionally befriends Matilda (played by Natalie Portman), a 12-year old neighbor girl whose family is killed by a rogue unit of the DEA. Matilda wants revenge and wants Leon to teach her how to get it. Leon wants his simple life back but settles into the role of protecting Matilda from Norman Stansfield (Gary Oldman), head of the rogue unit that is looking to destroy the only remaining witness to her family's murder. And then, it gets complicated....

You will forget to breathe. You will need a tissue. You will yell at the TV. You will cheer. You will need another tissue. You will remind yourself again to breathe. You will hide your eyes with a pillow. You will forget you have popcorn in your lap, jump up, and spill it on the couch. You will yell again. You will want five more minutes of Leon and Matilda when the credits roll. You will wonder if you have time before bed to watch it again.

The tagline of this movie, according to IMDB is: "A perfect assassin. An innocent girl. They have nothing left to lose except each other." And I promise, you will get lost in them too.

Ramesses Revisited

In elementary school, the Academically Gifted class (shocker, I’ve been a nerd since way back when) was scheduled to take a trip to see the Ramesses exhibit at Discovery Place in Charlotte. I don’t recall being particularly interested in Egyptian Pharaohs or hieroglyphics or mummies but I remember being OVER THE MOON excited about this field trip. It was not just any regular field trip, a short jaunt on the blue school bus to somewhere we’d already been. This field trip was all the way to Charlotte, which is practically on the other side of the planet from the small town I was raised in, on a charter bus. A charter bus?? How cool! I looked forward to it for weeks!

And then it snowed and the roads were covered with ice and the trip was cancelled. And I was DEVASTATED. There may or may not have been tears.

Today was Ramesses revisited.  

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a love for all things Christian Kane. He was the inaugural Monday Music Review on this site. His movies are at the top of my Netflix queue. His CDs are in my house, in my car, and at my desk. A montage calendar, made by fellow Kaniac and friend Melissa, hangs in my office (complete with a post-it t-shirt because one my co-workers complained that CK didn’t have a shirt on in one photo. Instead of taking Christian down, I covered him up (a little)… and yes, in case you wondered, the post-it t-shirt says “I Heart MaryB” in I Heart NY fashion). Youtube is bookmarked and Kane classics play in my office all day long. And, not too long ago I got tickets to the Stout Pull at Coyote Joe’s in Charlotte for tonight, where Christian Kane is joining Jarrod Niemann, Josh Thompson, and Jake Owen for an acoustic showdown.

A concert on a weeknight? A drive to Charlotte for something other than work? Totally out of my element, right? Right! But 2011 is my year for adventures. I was, just like in 5^th grade, OVER THE MOON excited about this concert. And then it snowed. Or rather iced and I spent the better part of my day researching road and weather conditions between here and the Queen City, looking up flight information (Christian was flying in from Oklahoma where he, by the way, played at the Governor’s Inauguration Ball last night- how cool!),  calling co-workers stationed in Greensboro, Hickory, and Charlotte to get their take on the roads (because, let me assure you, if an officer won’t drive it, you shouldn’t either). They all said “Don’t go.” So, I kept calling around in hopes of finding one single solitary voice that would make my 2.5 hour slide into Coyote Joe’s OK. And I could find none. And so, with the concert on GO, and Christian Kane in my sights, I decided not to go. And I was DEVASTATED. There may or may not have been tears.

But I have plans to see Christian Kane again in a few weeks so why was this one night such a big deal? Where was all this devastation coming from?

Although I adore Christian Kane and will watch, listen, and drool over anything he does, he was not the reason (well, not the sole reason) for my heartbreak today. This is about something bigger. Bigger than my Kane addiction? Hard to believe, I know, but yes.

This was supposed to be my year of adventure yet the first chance I get to be spontaneous, to take a day off work to go to a frivolous concert, to stay up really late on a work night, to be marginally irresponsible, what do I do? I opt for common sense and stay home. My first big chance to step outside of my box and I hide in the corner. My first chance in a long time to be wild and crazy and I choose to be reserved and cautious. I’m not as much disappointed in missing the concert as I am disappointed in myself. For all my talk about growing, reaching, and expanding, the core of me is still grounded in being responsible. I think about the potential consequences. I worry about the possibilities. I fret over the finances. For as much as I want to fly by the seat of my pants tonight and not worry about the rest until tomorrow, I’m just not quite there. I guess I have all year to work on it. So, instead of dancing on a bar into the wee hours of the morning with Christian Kane and the band tonight, I’ll be here, at home. Maybe I’ll crank up The House Rules, sing at the top of my lungs and dance around my kitchen. Maybe I’ll eat some ice cream out of the bucket. Yep, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a wild and crazy night.

PS- And, by the way, just got a Tweet from Christian- he’s stuck in Dallas and can’t get to Charlotte either so maybe I didn’t miss much after all.

But It's on the List

It seems that everywhere I go, someone's talking about the Zero Day Project. The what? Not enjoying my position in the dark on this thing everyone else seemed to be excited about, I did a little research and I found a dream come true for someone interested in enriching their lives, which is what we said we're doing here, right?

The Zero Day Project is a self-imposed bucket list of sorts- 101 goals to be completed in 1001 days. Judging from facebook posts, fan forums, and lists posted on the internet, the Zero Day Project lists cover goals designed to inspire creativity, expand boundaries, stretch limits, blow the roof (and sides) off the box you live in. Basically, your imagination is your only limitation. It seems everyone has a ZDP list; everyone, that is, except me... until now. And, wow, if you think coming up with 101 goals is easy, give it a try. It's not nearly as simple as you think.

It occurs to me that if you have an interest or a wild idea, you can get away with it if you call it a Project. If you dedicate yourself, write it down, and share it with friends, you somehow feel empowered to actually complete the task. If you really want to swing on a trapeze but are afraid people will laugh at you, or if you secretly want to have lunch with a homeless person but are scared of the reaction, or if you've spent time wondering what your hair would look like with Crayola red highlights, this might be your chance (or your excuse, if you feel you need one) to step outside of your box, to try something brave, to be a little wacky. Your list doesn't have to be 101 items, it doesn't have to take you 1001 days... but a list might do you a little good. It might help you to find that Something More.

Monday Music Review- Steve Carlson

Monday Music Review on Sunday? Yes, because Monday comes quickly and I want you to be prepared in the morning when you roll out of bed in need of coffee and a good tune to get you moving. So, for this blog, the Monday Music Review (which may become a regular feature) comes a day early because it’s my party. And that’s the way I want it.

Meet Steve Carlson.

I found Steve on the Kane (as in Christian Kane) Acoustic Live in London album. Turns out, Steve is a member of Christian’s band but he also has a solo career that has about six albums including a Christmas CD. When I’m in the mood for something peppy but reflective, Steve Carlson is my new go-to guy.

Steve Carlson is a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic and, if his songs are any indication, he’s been both on the giving and receiving ends of heartache but yet he writes about the trials and tribulations of love without making you feel sad. He’s captured the essence of “don’t cry because I’m gone; smile because I was once here”. He's found a way to marry heartache with subtle revenge, to balance the meaning of the memories with the motive to move on. With lyrics like “Stay on your side of town and keep your crowd away from mine... but don’t worry, baby doll, I won’t say everything between you and me”, Steve's Between You and Me reminds us that relationships can end without the airing of dirty laundry (but that holding that dirty laundry over their head for a little while is perfectly acceptable). Pinata Novia details the struggle to love someone who can’t love you back in the way you need them to, and haven’t we all felt like a piñata from time to time? 

Perhaps my favorite Steve Carlson song (thus far) is I Believe which was actually written to be the theme song for the Sher Institute for Reproductive Medicine, a facility that helps couples struggling to become families. A beautifully written duet sung by Carlson and friend Rosalee, the lyrics include “I believe a change is around the corner and in a world that’s out of order, we still have time.” The premise of the song and the video is clearly fertility but the lyrics could be for anyone who struggles and needs to hear that better times are quickly approaching on the horizon.

Steve Carlson is a great artist to have playing at your desk or when you’re working and need some background melodies. These ballads are of loss but aren’t sad; they are peppy but not distracting and have instrumental sections that will make you sorry, very very sorry, you weren't more dedicated to your piano lessons in elementary school.

Steve Carlson's music can be found on the discography section of the link and on YouTube. Happy listening, everyone!

A Novel Idea

What’s better than curling up on the couch with a good mystery? Curling up on the couch with a good mystery and a good snack, of course! With Joanne Fluke, you get both!

Meet Hannah Swensen, owner of The Cookie Jar bakery in Lake Eden, Minnesota. In this small town, The Cookie Jar is where you go to get your sweet treats and your gossip. Hannah, with her penchant for baking, also seems to have a penchant for finding dead bodies. She inevitably embarks on her own investigation of the crime further complicating her already complicated dating relationship with Mike, the lead detective at the Sheriff’s Department, who tells her to “let the police be the police” but who invariably asks for her help along the way. Sounds like a pretty standard mystery novel plot line, right? Wrong!

The best part about having Hannah, baker extraordinaire, as your main character? Her recipes are in the book!

As Hannah embarks on investigating the murder of flirty fitness instructor Ronni Ward in Cream Puff Murder, I decided to conduct a little investigation of my own. Are The Cookie Jar’s recipes as tasty as the small town folks of Lake Eden say they are or are these recipes just made up to enhance the feel of the books? Let’s find out.

I probably should have baked the title treat of this novel but I opted for Carrot Cake Cookies because they have carrots. And carrots are veggies. And veggies equals “good for me” so it’ll be OK if I eat too many. And then I borrowed a little brilliance from my friend Rebecca (author of I Wanna Be A Domestic Goddess) and I made sandwich cookies with cream cheese frosting/filling and a sprinkling of pecans...

And the result- YUM and FUN! Moist and fluffy, not too sweet, and with a little crunch.

Cream Puff Murder is one of about 16 novels in Fluke’s Hannah Swensen Mystery with Recipes series and I highly recommend them if you need a quick read, a fun mystery, and a few new ideas for tasty treats!

It all starts with the S word

He said the S word. I couldn't believe it but I heard it with my own ears. Greg Fishel said the S word. He said SNOW... and I did what we do. I went to Wal-Mart for "bread and milk" even though that's not at all what I bought. I bought pop-tarts because they require zero effort, Diet Mt. Dew because we know that not even a blizzard will stand between me and the requisite levels of caffeine, and some baking ingredients for a little theory I'm testing. As I'm standing in line, in one of the three lines that is actually open at my twenty-something checkout station Wal-Mart, with 300 of my closest friends, I do that other thing we do. I scope out my neighbor's carts.

I confess: I'm a cart stalker. I'm a conveyor belt snooper. In my defense, as I'm stalking, I offer coupons to people when I can. That makes it OK, right?

I just love to see what other people are buying. I like to see what new products I might have missed but this snooping always leads to the same end. I wonder, "What are you making with THAT?"

And today was no exception. The obviously single man (and no, I didn't hit on him) in line in front of me had in his cart: 3 bags of tortilla chips (though not the same brand), frozen shrimp, fresh basil leaves, some potted meat, and a bag of candy bars. I have cookbooks. I actually read them. I watch Food Network and would take a road trip with Guy Fieri if he asked. But I can't for the life of me figure out how this man came to posess this cart of items. Was he breaking the cardinal rule of shopping (Do not shop while hungry)? Was he researching tortilla chips? Was this stuff actually for a meal? Was he filling in the missing ingredients on several meals? I wanted to know. I needed to know. I pondered it. I mulled it over. He was checking out. I was running out of time. I had to know! I took a deep breath. And...

Did I ask? Did I figure it out? Nope. I let him get away. A perfectly good mystery vanish unsolved out the sliding glass doors and into the night. Bummer.

Disappointed in my lack of initiative, I turned to cart stalk the guy behind me. Beer and frozen pizza. No mystery there. Single man staples. You can't really blame him; after all, Greg Fishel did say the S word.  

Hello, my name is...

Friends, I’ve reached a new low. I might need some sort of advanced assistance.

Last night, after the midweek movie, I was working on some things and realized it was well after midnight, which is a wee bit past this princess’ bedtime. I did my cursory walk around the house, checking the doors, making sure everything’s off; you know the drill. I loaded into my arms the shoes that rarely make it back to the closet, some books I’d used for research, and my phone, you know, all the things that needed to find their way upstairs before the producers of Hoarders showed up to film the clutter. I get to my room and realize I’ve brought along an unopened can of Diet Mt. Dew, which, as you probably know, is the only thing that makes me remotely human in the mornings. And, did I think, “Why did I bring that? Silly me.”

Of course not.

My thought was, “Cool! I don’t have to walk back downstairs in the morning before my shower. Why don’t I bring a drink up every night?” It’s a sad, sad state of affairs, my friends, and a whole new level of lazy when you realize you don’t want to walk down a few stairs to get a drink. I know this. And yet, I’ll probably do it again… tonight.

I wish I could be one of those girls who leaps out of bed in the morning looking like a runway model, who drinks only water, always eats good-for-you food, and loves to work out. Sadly, I only leap out of bed when I hear the garbage truck and realize I forgot to take the can to the curb. And then I hope I beat the garbage truck to the curb so as to not frighten the workers. I detest the boring necessity that is water and I firmly believe that cold pizza and brownies are the makings of a perfect breakfast. I’ve tried almost every workout known to woman in a never-ending quest to find something that I actually enjoy (and I’ve found a few really fun things but I’ll save them for other blogs).

Why am I telling you this? I’m telling you this because as much as I’m going to try to be a positive voice on this blog, there will be days that just won’t happen. I’m just a regular gal and you’ll learn that I do regular gal things. I work full time in a job I love most of the time with people who make me laugh all of the time. I have a few part time jobs that you’ll hear about along the way. I’m dating and the tales of those disasters will show up here eventually, I’m sure. I don’t have children but I hope to someday; currently, I have a houseplant, Eliot, and that’s working just fine for me. In some respects, it’s a pretty simple little life.

But in all the simply wonderful vanilla that is my world, I throw in some sprinkles. I wear red heels to work on Fridays (when the boss isn’t there- and if you could not mention it to him, that'd be OK with me!). I’ve never broken a bone but I spend some part of almost every weekend with people who fight for fun. When I go somewhere, I pack pearls and heat. I scrapbook while yelling at the quarterback on TV. I sing in the shower like I think I’m Reba McIntyre but I hate getting up in front of groups. I’m a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a whole lot of things I’ve not tried yet. Maybe I’m still finding myself? Or maybe I’ve already found me in a million tiny places.

I write this blog because “my words are plentiful and need room to breathe” (Steve Carlson) and I thank you for taking time out of your day to read it. Sweet dreams, friends, and may you have a brownie breakfast awaiting you when you rise and shine tomorrow.

Midweek Movies

Usually we save the indulgences for the weekends. We stay up late on Friday or Saturday nights, we eat junky stuff and swear we'll get back in the gym on Monday. We do all the things we don't make time for during the week. I think we should start indulging on Wednesdays, to get us over the hump and motivate us for the rest of the week. Tonight, I left the dishes in the sink and the laundry in the dryer, put on my favorite bumming around outfit, popped some corn, and settled into my favorite spot on the couch to watch....

Secondhand Lions, released in 2003, stars Haley Joel Osment as Walter, an introverted 13-year old boy whose mom (played by Kyra Sedgwick) drops him off with his great uncles Hub (Robert Duvall) and Garth (Michael Kaine) for the summer while she pursues "court reporter school" which is apparently the new code word for "a glitzy, glamorous life in Vegas without a kid to slow me down". As the grouchy and eccentric uncles warm up to Walter and Walter learns that sometimes adults can be trusted, they, and a used lion, form a familyship which is a happy little hybrid of family and friendship.

To explain strong, silent Hub to Walter, Garth regales him with stories of adventure that will remind you somewhat of The Princess Bride- there's sword fighting and swashbuckling (oh, and a tiny bit of romance thrown in for good measure but no 6-fingered man on a quest to find a killer.) There's treasure and a bad guy and seamlessly, the lessons of how to be a good man are weaved in.

If you haven't seen it, or it's been a while, I won't spoil the ending for you, but the best line is "They really lived. They went out with their boots on." And that is what I wish for you today- to really live- to have a life that includes a giraffe, a lion on the loose, a hidden stash of rainy day money, a great tale of adventure, and an even better tale of love.... or something like that.