kerewin's whine cellar

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Pinot Time

Right after a full work day I drive down to Oregon for IPNC. Don't be jealous, I am working 12 hours days. All the volunteers are staying at Linfield College and hopefully there will be some sort of internet connection to be found. Alas, I won't have my laptop so I will have to find an internet café of some sort. If you hear from me, you do.

I was going to be really on the ball and write 3 days worth of posts ahead of time. HA! Yeah that didn't happen. How not surprised are you?

Maybe He's Just Gay (Not That There Is Anything Wrong With That)

Because of this, I looked at this.

I suggested to a friend that he is probably gay and since you aren't allowed to be homosexual AND Mormon, he is probably keeping it to himself. After watching the movie they have posted on that site about the first time he saw the billboard, she said, "Oh, he has a Christian vibe more than a gay one." (I thought that was the point in Utah.)

What kind of friends does this guy have? Why isn't it acceptable to be single? I am catching a similar tone from some of my friends, and acquaintances. It isn't that they think I should be married, because, let's face it, I am married. They think I should want kids. In fact today at work someone said to me, "Congratulations!" this woman thought I had been promoted. Instead, someone with a very similar name to mine was promoted. A coworker overheard her and said, "Oh! Are you pregnant?"

I replied, "Yes, and I drank heavily after finding out."

In this society not wanting kids is practically unacceptable. When you tell people that you don't want kids they ALWAYS say, "Oh yes you do," or, "Don't worry, you will!" I don't hate kids, I think they are fun and great! I just don't want any of my own.

All I have to say is, "Good luck, Lance!" I hope you find the friends of your dreams, the ones who don't put their own expectations upon you.

(and yes, Darryl, I did need you to post the last post, too! Thank you!!! You're a saviour.)

Five to Seven Business Days

Apparently my computer is fully covered. That also means that it has to be shipped to Apple and that means 5 to 7 business days. Don't these people know that I get all my work email through that? Don't they understand that I obsessively check lots of peoples' websites every. single. day?

Also, and this is lovely, the web server is behind the firewall. Which I happen to be using while my computer is gone, and it seems to get hung up on the posting of new blog posts. Yesterday I had to have a friend log on and hit update for me! On the other hand I get to watch a lot more television than I was watching before. I just watched the old Bad News Bears and currently The Odd Couple is on. That Walter Matthau is a scream!

By the way, whenever I tell people that I don't want to see the new Bad News Bears, because the previews seem so innappropriate and meanminded, I get this reponse,"But the old one was exactly the same!" After seeing the old one all I can say is, "Bullshit." Yes there was beer swilling and mean behavior to children, but hardly any swearing and it had a good heart.

While I was being facetious about good ol' Walt earlier, after watching the first 30 minutes or so of the Odd Couple I do have to say that I think he was a brilliant actor.

Now please excuse me while I go and throw up as a friend is asking me whether I backed up any info on my computer and since I didn't, now I have to puke.

Why I Am Pissy

I got a delightful surprise tonight, my new(ish) laptop's monitor died! Yay! Goodbye any info I saved that I might need for IPNC this weekend. Goodbye anything I was working on for work paperwork. Goodbye any saved emails I might not have memorized. Goodbye taking laptop down to Oregon this weekend in the hopes that I might catch an internet signal.

The upside? This is day 89 of a 90 day warranty on parts and equipment. Although we didn't take delivery of said part for another week. So if it came down to brass tacks, the Hub would get to get on the phone and be pissy (that's his gift).

Luckily I can use the iMac we use as a server for this site to check email via the web and apparently post to my blog. However, because it is behind the firewall I can't see what said post looks like on my site, which is where I catch 90% of typos. And really, who wants to step back an OS?

God, I am whiny. Someone slap me.

This American Life

I was discussing podcasts with someone last night and admitted that I wasn't really into them, that I didn't quite get it. I had looked up info on podcasts when iTunes went and added that to their iPod list and I just wasn't sure it was anything I was ready for. I guess I didn't see anything there that I wanted to listen to.

One thing I do know for sure is that I WILL be into them.

There is only one radio show I would like to hear, even when I am not in my car and that day that I looked up the info, I went to that site and tried to find if they did podcasts. Nope. Therefore, I wasn't ready. So I mentioned this to the friend who was into podcasts. I said, "When T.A.L. starts doing podcasts, that is when I am going to get into it."

He didn't know from "This American Life" so I sent him the link and he responded, "But they do have podcasts, right there on the right side, under consumables." Oops. But I am still not ready for podcasts, although that show for this week looks interesting.....hmmm those guys look familiar.

Holy shit! I went to high school with that guy! The one on the right. We were really good friends. We even went to a Sadie Hawkins dance together. I wonder if I threw that picture out? Okay, okay this isn't the first time I found out that Terry's other half is Dan Savage, but I am just not accustomed to seeing people I went to High School with on the main page of "THIS AMERICAN LIFE!"

I ran into Terry and Dan several years back and had such a nice conversation with Terry, this was soon after the 10 year reunion which he didn't go to, and I told him he didn't miss much. I was kinda sad that we walked different directions and didn't exchange numbers or anything, but that is life. In fact this is the exact kind of topic that ends up on "This American Life" all the time!

I googled his name after seeing this picture and he is an artist with a studio and several shows mentioned in the papers on a regular basis. He looks happy in that picture (and HOT! Gosh, he wasn't that hot in H.S. Thank god for growing up, right?). Congrats Terry, hope your life is going great.

Baba Ganoush

Back when I first moved to Seattle to go to the University of Washington I lived close to a natural food store. Because I didn't have a car it was easy to go there and had the upside of making me feel good about myself. I also got to explore all sorts of food I never tasted before.

Like baba ganoush. The second I tried it, I knew I wasn't in SpoKansas anymore. Smoky and rich, it should be a holy food. I could eat it every day.

Since the ingredients are fairly basic (garlic, roasted eggplant, tahini, lemon juice, and parsley) I always wanted to make it. But something stopped me. Fear. Making baba ganoush from scratch was alien to me and I was afraid to screw it up. I feel the same way about cooking duck. So the other night I was flipping through channels and got stuck on the Food Network (not surprising, is it?) and Emeril Lagasse. He was making "Food On The Go." He roasted eggplant and made a spread very close to baba ganoush. However, it didn't have any tahini and looked rather runny. So I decided to make it myself, because I was sure I could do better. And I think I did.

The first run on the baba ganoush was good, but not perfect. It was too lemon-y and I put in too much tahini. Who knew that 1/2th of a cup would be too much? Sesame paste is some strong shit, yo! Anyway for those interested, this is the basic recipe (I did adjust the tahini and the lemon):

1 medium sized eggplant
2 cloves garlic
juice from one small lemon
1/4th cup tahini
fresh parsley, cleaned and finely chopped
salt and pepper to taste

I used the grill to roast the eggplant but the stove works just as well. Roast on medium for about 45 minutes turning periodically, until the skin is blackened. Remove from heat, cool for a few minutes and pull skin off, it will peel right off. Chop into largeish cubes and drain in a colander until room temperature. Put all the ingredients into a food processor and blend. I went to finely belnded but next time I want it a bit chunkier and will probably pulse. Garnish with some more fresh chopped parsley and drizzle with olive oil, serve with pita chips.

I can't believe I had to rely on Emeril to show me I could easily, and cheaply make baba ganoush, the food of the gods! Now that I have the power people, look out!

(An aside, how is it that Al Roker gets a kitchen/food show AFTER he loses all that weight????? Didn't he get there by NOT eating?)

And just in case you aren't totally annoyed by singing and dancing creatures on the net: Peanut Butter Jelly Time (thanks to N.E.D., that punk)

40 Grand In The Hole

When will I love someone?
When will someone be mine?
40 grand in the hole
I’m gonna open it up and let my yearning shine

The first song that I could become seriously addicted to during my iTrip music fest today.

New Toy

Now I don't have to make cds of the music I buy on iTunes! I don't have to listen to a single radio commercial ever again. I can listen to the David Sedaris book I bought while I drive around all day. Very exciting.

Over a decade ago a fling introduced me to Soul Coughing. The next boyfriend I had, I introduced him. Amazing music that also allowed me to pretend to have some sort of street cred. We broke up, but I still had Soul Coughing. When I met the-now-husband I got him into Soul Coughing, also. We even saw them play live at the Showbox in Seattle in 1997. So I was pretty sad when after only three albums, the group broke up. A fourth album was released after their breakup.

So I was very glad this weekend to discover, via KEXP, that former-lead singer Mike Doughty has a solo album out. Apparently he also has an LP out on iTunes exclusively. I haven't really had a chance to listen to it, yet. So tomorrow, LOOK OUT, it is going to be Mike Doughty, all day and all night (oh wait, I won't be driving then, good thing we have a radio in the house!).

I could drown in his voice, it is just so lovely and unique. Maybe that's why Mike hung around through three relationships.

oh lordy, he even has a blog

The Carrot and The Stick

Billy Bob Thornton was on 'The Daily Show With Jon Stewart' this week and after watching the show I said something about dear Billy I haven't ever said before. "Wow, that guy is normal. He's even CUTE. He laughs and has attractive ways about him."

Billy being hot

I mean, he almost had me buying tickets to the 'guaranteed to be badder than you'd want' Bad News Bears. He's so cute!

Then he had to go and do this: "There may be this swarthy, little, five-foot-two stocky woman who just has sex (written) all over her." (Courtesy of Fussy) I guess women are just about the sex and nothing more. Granted, I think the idealogy behind it is supposed to be about beauty being only skin deep. However, I can't even put my finger on it, it is just rude and sexist. I might have to go back to thinking he's a major league dickwad (pun not intended, but will take for wit).

Billy, why you gotta go and do that? I suppose when he decides to go after the super dogs that I should email him my picture and number.

Speaking of dogs, PUGS!

When you get bored of that here is a silly game. (Courtesy of Freud.)

Action!

Today I was wounded in the line of duty. I had a supplier in my car while making my rounds, and he just HAD to bring a bunch of different Champagnes for us to show (and try!). Damn, I hate that. Because it is Summer and all, and it has been mid 80s-low 90s, I knew it was important to keep those suckers chilled. So last night I filled up all the ice trays and this morning went to put all the ice in a small ice chest, just like the kind your favorite alcoholic relative brings along to every gathering – charming!

Anyway, I was twisting an ice tray and must have made a weird turn or something, my wrist totally screamed out in agony. Each and every second of the day it hurt more. To the point that every time I turned the steering wheel or picked up the bag of wine to show, I had to wimper and then complain. Okay, that might not be anything new, but this time it really hurt!

All I have been doing since I got home from work at 8pm (more whining) is icing my poor, painful, swollen wrist. In fact, it hurts to even type this post. Do you suppose I can apply for workers' comp?

By the way, is it ironic of merely pathetic that I have to ice a wound I received from an ice tray?

As Far As Overstepping Your Boundaries

So my little incident at the spaghetti house isn't the only time I have let my mouth move ahead of my brain. In fact, it isn't even the most spectacular example. Much later in my career I worked at a steak house that was nearby the Symphony Hall. This was the kind of restaurant where you had to pay your dues in the bar and the patio before moving into the back dining room. The irony being, of course, that the bar and patio were much harder sections to work, for less money.

I had worked at that restaurant for over 2 years and had pretty much my pick of back dining room shifts but I took pity on a newbie and picked up a shift on the patio so that she could go do something fun. It was the last night of the Symphony and the beginning of Summer. The place was packed, but because of the symphony the usual first-come-first-served patio was completely reserved. That was a major bonus as it meant a lot more money. When I saw the host come over and start putting tables together to make a six-top (party of six, and no, I have no idea why they don't just say, "table for six" if it made sense, it wouldn't be lingo) I was overjoyed.

I rarely ever used the auto-gratuity option but it was nice to fall back on. Upon seeing the six extremely rich and extremely homosexual men sit down, I knew I wouldn't need it. From the get go, they were awesome. Very lewd, heavy drinking, and quite funny, they knew what they wanted. The kind of table you can give a little sass and not only have them like it, but have it increase your tip. Because of the amount of people in the restaurant and the additional outdoor seating the kitchen was a little slow. Knowing that ahead of time gives you all the power you need, though. (Simply put in the order for the entrees first, knowing you have a 40 minute wait for food, then 5 minutes later, put in the appetizer order and then when the app is almost ready, you put in the salads. Tends to work like magic, and the people never know their food took so long.)

Usually even with the most fun party there is always one diner who is the party pooper. I certainly had mine at this table. He was ordering refills on his drinks when they first arrived at the table and was generally pissy. He waffled over whether to order the prawns or the pepper steak and pretty much held me ransom at the table for a good five minutes while he decided. I told him the prawns were my favorite because of the exquisite saffron, morel mushroom, brandy cream sauce that accompanied them. The sides were usually whatever green was in season and the always lovely mashed potatoes (it is very rare for a kitchen to be able to make an order of mash at 4pm that still tastes good at 9pm, but this one did.). How could anyone resist such mouth-watering food? He went with the prawns.

For the next 30 minutes every time I was near that table the boys ordered another round of call martinis, and Mr. Party Pooper also managed to complain to me about the white linen napkins we used.

"You need to talk to your manager about getting different linen."

Turns out he was wearing black linen slacks and the two like materials had an affinity for one another. "This white linen is getting all over my pants. I want you to go and get me a black linen napkin, this is ridiculous."

What I thought was ridiculous was that someone would actually think that a restaurant should change its linen for one single person. Every server will tell you they have their stock phrases that get them out of sticky situations. I certainly had mine. If told, "I am sorry we didn't order that," when the bill came, I always said back in the most pleasant tone, "It is the one thing that actually comes with the meal." If some old man called me "honey" and felt like he had the right to put his hands on me I always said, "You can just call me Karri, for short." However, when it came to the issue of linen I was just stumped. This man is sitting outside in lovely weather in a city not well known for such a thing, surrounded by good friends, cocktails, and food. He was about to enjoy a lovely cultural experience and all he could think about was the small white threads on his black pants that no one would see once he was in the dark hall.

It just came out. I said, "I happen to know for certain," dramatic pause, "that they use paper napkins at the Old Spaghetti Factory, maybe I could call down there and have them hold you a table." He got bright red in the face while the other five men laughed their asses off.

"She sure got you!" they howled.

Meanwhile, I was shitting my pants and desperately trying to think of a way to backpedal. I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Those better be the best prawns of your life, hadn't they?"

"Damn right! And I don't want to see your face until our food gets here," he told me.

I certainly didn't have to be told twice and skedaddled. Holy SHIT, what was going through my mind? I was not only throwing good money away, I was probably going to get into a butt load of trouble with my boss. I felt sick to my stomach. So, I spent my time making sure the rest of my tables wouldn't also have cause to tell the manager to fire me. Interestingly enough, just a few minutes later Mr. Poopy Pants called me over. "I know I told you not to come back but my friend here really needs another dirty Grey Goose martini, and while you're going to the bar, maybe you could bring one back for me?"

Thankful for the lovely reprieve I was more than happy to do so. Their food came soon after and I was nothing but the biggest ass-kisser you ever saw. Even then, I was sure they were going to stiff me and also ask to speak to the manager on their way out. And rightfully so. Once again lucky, I received a 30% gratuity. I can only surmise that the rest of the cool gents knew what a pain in the arse their friend was and maybe thought he got a little justice.

editor

Why I never was one, why I need one:

Errors

And for controversial reading while I attempt to get my "regular" 11 hours of sleep this evening:

The goal of the program, said Mr. Smid, who said he was once gay but now renounces homosexual behavior, is not necessarily to turn gays into practicing heterosexuals, but to "put guardrails" on their sexual impulses.

Sounds gay to me. Not gaytarded by any stretch, but straight up, gay. So to speak.

And just an aside, Benny Hill sucks ass.

**Another addition from my editor: Because the music is from Benny Hill

Overbooked

I must be fighting a sinus infection, I lay* down for a quick cat nap last night at 9 p.m. and woke up this morning at 8 a.m. I feel like I could lay down a sleep a few more hours.

Too bad I am overbooked. Going to a kitchen demo of a favorite chef today and then have to drive immediately South for a couple of hours to a family reunion/bbq, then back home. Maybe I will sleep for 11 hours again tonight. Ugh.

* I have been corrected. You haven't "layed" down for a quick nap

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

My first wait job ever was at one of those spaghetti houses. Each meal came with a salad (french, italian, blue cheese, thousand island, and creamy pesto), bread, a beverage (milk, coffee, or tea), and ice cream at the end. The most expensive meal on the menu was $8.99. As you can imagine it was a popular spot for families and large groups. Interesting policy the restaurant had, there was never added gratuity and they wouldn't seat a party until it was complete.

That last rule lead a lot of people down the path to dishonesty. "They went to the bathroom," people would explain of the empty chairs. Or my favorite, "They are parking the car!" Uh huh, some 30 minutes away so that they can practice for that 10k they are doing next week.

One Sunday afternoon I was working (the dreaded post-church service shift) and I was seated with a group of 14. Clearly a couple of families dining together. Very nice, sweet even. Except that there were only about 8 of them there. Ok, fine, no biggie I wasn't swamped.

"Hey there, how is everyone? I see you are waiting for a few, is there a beverage I can bring you while you wait?"

They start ordering tea, coffee, etc. One guy asks for soda, I tell him that unfortunately, only coffee, tea, and milk are the complimentary beverages. Everything else is extra, but refillable. He asks how much it is for the soda and when I tell him, "seventy-five cents," he tells me that milk will do just fine, then.

I don't know just where it came from. It was out of my mouth and hanging in the air before I ever had a chance to realize I was thinking it, but I instantly said, "Yeah, that seventy-five cents is really going to set you back, isn't it?"

The eight people at the table all turned instantly quiet and looked at me. I paused, warm breath still in the air from the last comment. I wanted to die on the spot.

"Heh, he, umm hee hee hee," was my response, instead. For some reason they all laughed a little and I walked away wondering about my future with the company and the possibility of getting fired on a Sunday afternoon. The rest of the time that table was there I kissed their asses so very mightily. You never saw such bread, soda and water refills. Service was quick and friendly (of course it was always so). I even managed to keep my smartass mouth shut. When they left, I was just glad they didn't ask to speak to a manager.

The tip? Around 20%.

I was very, very lucky that day and I remember that each and every time I tell that story.

What Do I Think Now?

Any man who doesn't understand why a woman wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in a house with windows left open all night probably thinks that women have detachable vaginas that they can stash in a safety deposit box.

Alabama

(This is the kind of story that should be an audio file, because with the accents, it is far funnier.)

I used to work in a restaurant that had captain's chairs along the display kitchen so that patrons could dine and watch the chefs at work. It is kind of a silly idea, but people LOVED it. The waitstaff that had to work those sections had to work behind the line. That is, the walked up and down the stoves, fryers, ovens, open flames and all the sweaty chefs. This created a great relationship between the back of house (kitchen staff) and front of house (everyone else). One of the cooks was from Alabama and he worked the cold side (salads, apps, desserts) on a night when I was regularly scheduled to wait tables in that same section.

His name was (is?) McDavid and because that isn't your typical Pacific NW name, we all called him 'Bama. He had such a cute southern accent and you couldn't help but pick it up when talking to him. Also he was short and had the greatest goatee, kinda like a yard gnome, but much, much, much cuter. Once when I was working it was kind of a slow night and we got to talking. It was hot so 'Bama rolled up his sleeves and I noticed how incredibly hairy he was and I just couldn't help but comment.

"Wow, 'Bama, that's a lot of hair!"

"Yeah, my cousin used to say to me, 'If your Mama ever had another baby, it woulda been a hairball.'"

"McDavid! That's just awful! What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, I got him back. I said, 'Yeah? Well, if your Mama had another baby it just woulda been dumb.'"

Um hmmm, yeah. Now THAT'S a comeback.

A + B = C

This:

Ok, we haven't trimmed that at ALL the five years we lived here, poor thing looks naked. Also, I never realized how the flowers as they died rubbed on the house and made it all smeared with black. Plus the huge pile of leaves. We aren't ghetto, I swear. Ok, maybe a little.

Plus This:

You can't even tell how much we chopped this up, but I have the scabs to prove it!

Equals This:

I couldn't get an angle on that to show that there are ten yard waste bags there.

Plus some bonus photos:

Ixtapa under the blanket. Weirdly she doesn't usualy dig under the blankets unless it is winter. Those do happen to be the new pillows, I can't even begin to explain how addicted I am to them. Also, that is our Summer comforter that I got back in high school. We don't live in Florida. Really. I SWEAR! The winter duvet cover is waaaaaaaaaaaaay cooler.

Oso loves to lay on clothes that we have worn. He even manages to knock them out of the laundry basket, as you can see.

This is THE chair. The new one, that just looks so right even though it is in a completely odd spot. Now it looks like I will have to swap that picture frame out for one that matches.

The other chair (clearly).

Yet more yard work that I did a week ago. We think those cars may have been stolen and parked in front of our house. They appeared about a week ago.

The Hub really wants to grow all plants and no grass. This is his first venture into actually digging up the lawn and putting in something that will hopefully grow so large that grass can't grow. I think I took it pretty easy on him. He only had to dig two holes.

Perhaps I should weed and trim trees more often than 2 weekends out of the year?

When Pigs Fly

If I were not so tired I would get out the digital camera and take a picture of one of the antique chairs we just bought today. We got them home and tried to figure out where to put them, as our house is tiny and we haven't gotten rid of anything to make way. I put one of the chairs along the walkway between our kitchen and dining room/living room because I had nowhere else to put it while making space. However, it looked so RIGHT. The rest of the night as I was in the kitchen making dinner, or in the living room watching tv, I just kept looking at it. It belongs. It is also probably the coolest looking piece we got for the house.

That combined with a healthy social calendar this weekend, serious yard work (again, I need to take pictures) and my having to get up early tomorrow for work (how the hell is it already 11p?) has led me to a serious time crunch as far as posting is concerned. We are going to a friends' house for dinner tomorrow so chances are you won't see changes until Tuesday.

Damn my arms are tired from clipping trees. I need a weekend from my weekend.

What I Think

If men had periods then tampons would be part of a delivery service. This would probably be covered by insurance.

Just In Case You Wondered

I know some of you were mystified when you couldn't find your favorite show on the television tonight in its normal time slot. Unfortunately "PWT Neighbors" was moved to an onsite location in my neighborhood. We apologize and hope that regularly scheduled programs will be back on the network tomorrow.

London Calling

Click on the picture for one of the many stories the BBC has on their website about the bombings.

Not a day for jokes or funny family stories. My heart and thoughts go out to everyone in London right now.

The Funny Bone

An email I received in response to the previous entry:

Kerewin,
I just read your blog, and I can't believe it--when I went to see Smoke Signals with my friend Mona, and a friend of hers, HER FRIEND WOULD NOT STOP TALKING!!! She talked through the whole movie. Mona said it was just as bad as going to a movie with her grandmother.

Ironic, isn't it, that smoke signals are a silent form of communication, but our two experiences with the movie were so verbal! What is it about that movie?

Good to see you last night--looking forward to IPNC!

Monika

(names were changed to protect the innocent)

Wednesday is the day I visit one of my favorite accounts and as I was having a bit of a grumpy day to that point they managed to cheer me up, as usual. Because they ordered a case of sparkling wine from me the week before I brought them two miniature champagne buckets. The buckets were just adorable as all the girls were saying.

Then one of them asked, "Why is that girls think that anything done in a smaller size is just so cute?"

Without missing a beat, the owner of the restaurant (male) said, "Because men have trained them to."

pause...

thank you very much, I'll be here all week, don't forget to tip your server!

And in case that didn't make you laugh here's something just extremely creepy. (thanks Freud!)

Smoke Signals

Tonight I was at a meeting. A planning meeting for the International Pinot Noir Celebration that I volunteered to help with (can you imagine I was asked to volunteer????? Dude, I was practically BEGGING.). This here blog was mentioned (hi Monika!) and I had to explain that I am not so good at the fiction. I mean. I am not funny in fiction. I go to write a fictional story and people die or are really fucked up or have fucked up families. Gosh, where do you think that came from? But when it comes to reality, somehow the better thing is to laugh.

So back in 1999, the Hub and I went to see a movie at the Crest (that would be the second-run theater up north from here). Smoke Signals. It was amazing, and not just because it had a lot of scenes from Spokane that I recognized. However, when we first sat down we were behind a couple and their child. This was the 10pm show and the kid was about 4 and would NOT STOP TALKING. I was seriously more than annoyed. We ended up moving so that we could watch the show in peace. Somehow the image stuck with me and when I went home I was so moved by the movie that I had to write something. This is what came of it:

Theater
by Karri Norton © 1999

My best memories of childhood revolve around the neighborhood movie theater. My parents, practically children themselves, had very little extra money. No Saturday night babysitters for them. Instead we would all pile into the white Ford station wagon and head on down to the second-run movie theater that was a few miles away. Mom would grab Ralph, my best friend and stuffed dog. Dad would make sure we didn't forget my lucky blanket Starry. Grandma made it for me for Christmas one year, it was so soft and covered with stars.
To this day I love the smell of popcorn. And, the movie posters, wow - I never saw such beautiful people or amazing places. With a box of jujubes and a root beer clutched in my chubby little hands off we tromped to the seats. Oh, the darkness and the salty, tangy smell in the air. My own private cathedral. If current day evangelists could incorporate some of the carnival scents into their congregations then I swear they would save twice as many souls.
Mom and Dad, on either side, would cuddle me into the seat with Starry and Ralph. I would happily chomp away, fingers sticky, in hog heaven. When the lights dimmed it was the cue for Mom and Dad to hold hands over the top of my seat.
I am sure I asked all kinds of silly questions. My poor parents. Thinking back I want to tell my younger self to be nicer, sweeter. I supose that children just possess sweetness even when they are awful.
"When will the movie start?"

"What is that guy doing over there?"

"Can I have some more pop?"

"Why is that lady staring at us?"

These questions received the standard answers.
"Shhhhhhhh!"

"Be quiet!"

"Would you please stop kicking the chair ahead of you?"

I know in my heart that more than one couple was caused to relocate, so as to better enjoy the movie.
Then somewhere between the trailers and the opening credits I would drift happily off to sleep, secure in the knowledge of my parents' love for each other. To this day, the movie credits are my favorite part of going to see a movie, simply because it was the only thing I saw all of at a movie. My parents probably ran bets with each other as to how quickly I would fall asleep.
What cheap babysitting they discovered. A couple of lovely hours fantasy time for them. Then when they get home, no paying the babysitter. No fighting over who is going to drive the unlucky little girl home. How simple. How wonderful.

(the end)

Ok, so how did that happen? Sweet and loving and kind. And let me tell you, I was the youngest of three, there was no way in HELL my parents took me to a movie at 10pm, they had free babysitting in my siblings! How did I go from completely annoyed at those irresponsible little brats for parents to this? No idea, really.

Just remember what you think is totally, horribly annoying might be someone's best memory. AHAHhahHAHahAHAHAhahahahah. Right. That's bullshit.

A Story From When I Was Eight

With very little on my mind to write about, Nefariously Evil Darryl (N.E.D.) suggested I write something about when I was eight. The Summer I was eight the Goodyear Blimp came to Spokane. They were camped out near the airport and were in town for a couple of weeks. I am not really certain WHY they were in town, maybe they just travel all around the country when not doing sporting events.

Anyway, my Father was fascinated. At the time he was working as a salesperson for a company that sold popcorn machines, candy cotton machines, candy bar machines, basically all the sorts of things that kids loved. So we would go out to see the crew each evening and watch the blimp take off with people from Spokane that had a lot more money and influence than we would ever have. We ended up forming friendships with all the crew and just hanging out with them. They were superb, really, really nice poeple. When we went my dad would bring along those HUGE bags of popcorn that you see minimum wage high schoolers dump into the heaters at movie theaters. Some we ate, but mostly we left for the Blimp Crew.

It was a very exciting Summer for a girl between 2nd and 3rd grade. There was one crew member, Steve, who was....ah, he was a lot like the blond guy in Dukes of Hazzard. I had SUCH a crush. On one of the last nights we went out to see the blimp crew they had a huge surprise for us. They gave us each pieces of blimp, signed, a statue, and a picture signed by the entire crew and........................A RIDE ON THE BLIMP FOR THE ENTIRE FAMILY!

So the next day, in our best clothes we troop out there for the last time. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. We all got on with our favorite pilot, Corky (years later, my Father would be very careful to listen to the crew flying the blimp for major sports events and CHEER if Corky's name was called). I don't remember much, it was VERY loud on takeoff and then rather floaty. It seemed very small and very high up, as you can imagine it was rather amazing. Then the unimaginable happened, Corky got up and had my DAD fly the blimp! We even flew over our house and looked down upon it. Truly amazing.

In Third grade when we all got up to tell what we did that Summer, I sure had an amazing story to tell. I even had all my blimp props to prove it. Oh the power of popcorn.

Speaking of N.E.D. I was trying to figure out which Duke brother was blond and NED sent me this link. Jesus, that sausage is, um, fake? I never remember seeing that at the tender age of eight.

UPDATE: here's N.E.D.'s reponse: A Story From When I Was Eight

Baby Crack

Watching the horrible One Hit Wonder show "Hit Me Baby 1 More Time" is a lot like tequila shots at the end of a big party night with friends. You just KNOW you are going to feel like shit after, and probably throw up the entire next day, but somehow you can't stop yourself.

I mean, how bloody fake is this show? The crowd is filled with people who weren't even alive when the songs that are being played were originally on the radio, yet they know ALL the words? Supposedly the audience votes, but they never show the totals. The Hub and I mostly fast forwarded through the five episodes that constituted this late-season replacement show and came to the conclusion that not even ONCE did the right person win. And just who the hell is this Vernon Kay person? He is extra annoying, as well as being about twelve years old.

May I also add that any title of a show that has a number in it in place of a word is likely to suck the great swamp water? It is miraculous, however, that someone managed to make a Britney Spears song look like poetry in comparison. Please, please, PLEASE let this show die into the infamy of just five episodes! I won't even link to the show's site because I don't want to raise any of their stats. SUCK, suck, sucky. Any show that awards Vanilla Ice over Howard Jones should die, die, die!

And now to erase those nasty images from my mind, I am going to share a picture of my next husband, Peter.

To Sum

I spent 4 hours working in the yard, which is about as much as I spent yesterday and let's just say I probably spent 4 other hours working earlier in the week. So why then are there so many g-damn weeds? Well because the yardwork I speak of requires no toxic chemicals on the lawn. The trouble is that the more hours I spend pulling out grass and putting in plants (and damn that shit requires a lot of weeding!) the more grass I want to pull out.

Yet, I have no plan. I have no idea what I want the end result to look like. That alone prevents me from going any further. Oh yeah, and the fact that Nurseries are DAMN SPENDY.

Anyway, I think I am menstrual, and at the very least extremely cranky. I have a 3 day weekend but no plans with ANYONE. How is that even possible? We don't even have any plans for the 4th. I better just go bury my head under a pillow and sleep some more.

The Perfect Cure

It is very easy to cure insomnia, I have found. Simply have a day off, with no action items or personal issues to get in the way of your sleep. Now if only I could find something for the other 3.9 weeks of the month.

In other news, tonight at the cheap seats we saw Kung Fu Hustle tonight. It was Hi-frickin-larious.