Monday, December 17, 2007
Okey-dokey.
I don't generally go in for clubby, herd-type peace/love/unity crap, but this one sounded sorta nice, and hey - it's Cwisbus, so why not? Anyhoo, it's called BlooggersUntie, and it's a day for dyxlesic bloggers to -- no? Not? Uh, er. OK.
Do-over:
Bloggersunite er somesuch. Something wherein we'll toot our own horns about unsolicited acts of kindness.
I hit upon something earlier this year that helped me through lots of stressful moments and sort of lessened the impact of more than a few dookie-events bent on derailing me utterly and the taking down of pegs. Now, if you've read more than a couple minutes' worth of my navel-gazing writing here, you know I worked very hard to climb up on my high horse, and I don't appreciate being lowered in station. I've always been a bit of a stationery (high quality paper)/pen (fountain, thank you) freak, and one particularly nasty day I had an epiphany: "This bad situation is not my entire job. This job is not my entire life. In fact, the good folks I deal with vastly outnumber the ne'er-do-wells-- who can I think of to send a thank-you card to?"
So there it started - whenever the excreta hied to the rapidly-spinning aeration device, I'd commence to turn my energy from the bad situation and instead think of someone beside myself and other than the bad person.™ I got very much better, very quickly. Not too much later, every so often, someone would mention to me that they were so surprised and delighted to get a lovely little note. A couple people even said it made their day. One person told me she got home from work, alone, feeling unloved, and that she walked to her mailbox thinking "why bother? It's just bills," and to her surprise, my little note let her know someone had thought of her, out of the blue. That touched my heart, because what started as a (selfish) re-focusing exercise turned into a way to express genuine warmth for other people and maybe brighten their days.
Call me a cornball. See if I care. Just don't remind me of it next time I'm donning my bitch gear. I don't want anyone getting the ideer I'm just a softie, or anything.
__________________________________
While we're on the subject of doing nice things for others:
Prolly lots of y'all have already chosen and contributed to various charities in your area and the world over by now. I'd like to tell you about my favorite. I cannot say enough good things about Soldiers' Angels, but I'll make a tiny effort in that direction. 85-90% of every donated dollar is applied directly to helping the men and women of our military, and that's an exceptionally high ratio. Donations go to provide care packages, assistance for soldiers' families, and when I first became aware of this organization, they were providing laptops for soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital--many of these laptops were specially adapted so that soldiers missing part or all of their fingers/hands could still use their computer for its many applications such as remaining connected with the outside world via the internet. Also at that site, you may choose to adopt a soldier and to send friendly note of support and encouragement to one of our men or women overseas, as well as the occasional package.
I believe the most important contributions any of us can make are in our own families and communities, but it's also important to reach a little further afield occasionally, and I think this is a great way to help folks who may not be in our own back yards, but to whom we all are related in some small way, and to whom we are indebted. I hope you'll consider adding this to your list of important charities.
I don't generally go in for clubby, herd-type peace/love/unity crap, but this one sounded sorta nice, and hey - it's Cwisbus, so why not? Anyhoo, it's called BlooggersUntie, and it's a day for dyxlesic bloggers to -- no? Not? Uh, er. OK.
Do-over:
Bloggersunite er somesuch. Something wherein we'll toot our own horns about unsolicited acts of kindness.
I hit upon something earlier this year that helped me through lots of stressful moments and sort of lessened the impact of more than a few dookie-events bent on derailing me utterly and the taking down of pegs. Now, if you've read more than a couple minutes' worth of my navel-gazing writing here, you know I worked very hard to climb up on my high horse, and I don't appreciate being lowered in station. I've always been a bit of a stationery (high quality paper)/pen (fountain, thank you) freak, and one particularly nasty day I had an epiphany: "This bad situation is not my entire job. This job is not my entire life. In fact, the good folks I deal with vastly outnumber the ne'er-do-wells-- who can I think of to send a thank-you card to?"
So there it started - whenever the excreta hied to the rapidly-spinning aeration device, I'd commence to turn my energy from the bad situation and instead think of someone beside myself and other than the bad person.™ I got very much better, very quickly. Not too much later, every so often, someone would mention to me that they were so surprised and delighted to get a lovely little note. A couple people even said it made their day. One person told me she got home from work, alone, feeling unloved, and that she walked to her mailbox thinking "why bother? It's just bills," and to her surprise, my little note let her know someone had thought of her, out of the blue. That touched my heart, because what started as a (selfish) re-focusing exercise turned into a way to express genuine warmth for other people and maybe brighten their days.
Call me a cornball. See if I care. Just don't remind me of it next time I'm donning my bitch gear. I don't want anyone getting the ideer I'm just a softie, or anything.
__________________________________
While we're on the subject of doing nice things for others:
Prolly lots of y'all have already chosen and contributed to various charities in your area and the world over by now. I'd like to tell you about my favorite. I cannot say enough good things about Soldiers' Angels, but I'll make a tiny effort in that direction. 85-90% of every donated dollar is applied directly to helping the men and women of our military, and that's an exceptionally high ratio. Donations go to provide care packages, assistance for soldiers' families, and when I first became aware of this organization, they were providing laptops for soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital--many of these laptops were specially adapted so that soldiers missing part or all of their fingers/hands could still use their computer for its many applications such as remaining connected with the outside world via the internet. Also at that site, you may choose to adopt a soldier and to send friendly note of support and encouragement to one of our men or women overseas, as well as the occasional package.
I believe the most important contributions any of us can make are in our own families and communities, but it's also important to reach a little further afield occasionally, and I think this is a great way to help folks who may not be in our own back yards, but to whom we all are related in some small way, and to whom we are indebted. I hope you'll consider adding this to your list of important charities.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Um - I've been super-busy lately, so I've not had time to respond to many of the comments you lovely people have been leaving. I aspire to remedy this breach of etiquette by mid-week, hopefully, and also to begin making more regular blog-rounds by that point.
I owe a few email responses to some folks on the blogroll. HollyB told me last week that email she has sent me has been bouncing back to her account for the past few weeks. This is most vexing, considering she is on my list of contacts in that very email account. Anyway, if you've written me and the email has bounced back, please send me a note via comments, which I won't post. It may be time to switch email accounts, or somesuch. They say you get what you pay for, and I've had that account on hotmail for about 10 years, all free. Oh well. Easy come...
I owe a few email responses to some folks on the blogroll. HollyB told me last week that email she has sent me has been bouncing back to her account for the past few weeks. This is most vexing, considering she is on my list of contacts in that very email account. Anyway, if you've written me and the email has bounced back, please send me a note via comments, which I won't post. It may be time to switch email accounts, or somesuch. They say you get what you pay for, and I've had that account on hotmail for about 10 years, all free. Oh well. Easy come...
Man gets put on a sex offender list for 3 years for interfering with a bicycle sexually. (I'm not making this up. This is a real, true story - click on the link for details.)
So that's what the men in those oogy outfits get up to. Yuck.
bicycles have feelings too, ya know. I wonder if they did a rape kit thingie on the bike.
I don't know what's more disturbing-- that this guy made nice to a bike, or that someone actually prosecuted him for having done so.
So, he didn't harm another human being or an animal, and he didn't commit any public weirdness? I say he should be left to his own devices.
So that's what the men in those oogy outfits get up to. Yuck.
bicycles have feelings too, ya know. I wonder if they did a rape kit thingie on the bike.
I don't know what's more disturbing-- that this guy made nice to a bike, or that someone actually prosecuted him for having done so.
So, he didn't harm another human being or an animal, and he didn't commit any public weirdness? I say he should be left to his own devices.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Don't be messin' with Rita Moreno.
She's bad.
She's at least two nations wide.
---------------
ADDENDUM --
OMG! It gets even better:
I was thinking "damn, Rita is smokin' hot in this video, must've been about 40-ish", so, I poked around tha Intarw3bz and found out she was at or near 50 in this video! She is the only Puerto Rican actress to have won an Oscar, Golden Globe, a Tony and an Emmy-- she's a triple-threat power-house performer. And gosh, isn't it awesome to see a naturally lovely (i.e., unenhanced) rack on a female performer? Alert the media!
Of course, she was in West Side Story in 1961 when she was 30, but the film producers really tried to dowdy her up so she wouldn't compete for ingenue status with non-latin co-star Natalie Wood. Whatevs.
Rita Moreno is fierce. Animal knew what he was talking about!
Friday, December 14, 2007
I have to say that while working at Neiman-Marcus is a great gig (incredible employee discounts, private employee sales, etc.), it's a huge error to allow being surrounded by luxury items and the People Who Can Afford Them Before They Are Marked Down™ to turn one's life into an endless parade of envy. Yes, it's nice to have wonderful things, but it's idiotic to let the green-eyed monster cause one to lose sight of savoring life's true treasures which we all know money can't buy. It's also moronic to try to keep up with the fashionistas who have an indulgence budget of more money than most of us plebs earn in a year. There be dragons.
Fashion is illusory and trends are designed to delineate the haves from the have-nots. I say this is illusory, because there is a huge gulf between fashion and style. Fashion is all trends and turn-on-a-dime fads that one day will be regarded with the red-faced embarrassment they richly deserve, whereas style is a classic sensibility and not mutable or tarnishable by the fickle whims of popular culture. Fashion must buy the new thing and always be the first to wear that new thing, whereas style can put a new scarf with a nice, older handbag and a $6 skirt from a Wal-Mart markdown rack and look fresh and original all at the same time.
The great thing about style is its limitless applications - be it in the cut of a suit or the cut of a jib or the way you cut donuts in a snowy parking lot. A savvy person doesn't need evidence of an expensive label to recognize true quality, either.
I have my own style, a very few very nice things, and the rest is the bits wot I cobble together to emboss my own little chop-mark on my existence here. Very often, having that strong sense of self and timing comes of having a parent who knows how and when to garland the occasion with a distinctive flourish.
Here, from my archives (april 2006), is a bit I wrote about Dad and Mom which I felt the need to post again:
So that's part of it-- they can't bottle it and you can't come by that sensibility any way but honestly, so say I.
I was driving somewhere Thursday and heard on the news on the radio that a guy working security at the NorthPark Mall Neiman Marcus in Dallas was arrested for stealing something like $400,000 worth of jewelry. In 2004 and 2005, Manuel Alvarez stole at least 400 jewelry items and handed them off to accomplices who sold them on ebay. The irony here is manifold: you can't sell anything remotely related to firearms on ebay, but you can sell about a half mil of stolen luxury goods. Um, ok. Also, I'm betting that as a security guard(a relative had this gig, once), he made in the neighborhood of $40,000-ish/year. He's in jail for 10 years now, so whatever his friends made off that crap on ebay and then split with him, you know he didn't walk away from the whole deal with enough to justify the risk.
If there is any joy to be had--however fleeting-- from possessing fine things or a lot of money, what good is it to you if you know you did not earn same on your own merit? I would be embarrassed, unable to savor such bitter prizes. Better to have a life of simple, spartan appointments than to wallow in excess at the expense of one's good character.
To wrap this all up in a little bow, I'll finish by saying that style has everything to do with personal zest and enjoying life and exactly nothing to do with wealth. Remember that person I derided for the tiedye thingie about a week ago? Well, good on him- he liked what he had on, and what I think is utterly unimportant for his life. As for that NM guy who ruined his life over a few dollars, if exposure to all those mega-wealthy people did not teach him that mega-wealth is not a desireable thing in this life, then he just wasn't paying attention.
Fashion is illusory and trends are designed to delineate the haves from the have-nots. I say this is illusory, because there is a huge gulf between fashion and style. Fashion is all trends and turn-on-a-dime fads that one day will be regarded with the red-faced embarrassment they richly deserve, whereas style is a classic sensibility and not mutable or tarnishable by the fickle whims of popular culture. Fashion must buy the new thing and always be the first to wear that new thing, whereas style can put a new scarf with a nice, older handbag and a $6 skirt from a Wal-Mart markdown rack and look fresh and original all at the same time.
The great thing about style is its limitless applications - be it in the cut of a suit or the cut of a jib or the way you cut donuts in a snowy parking lot. A savvy person doesn't need evidence of an expensive label to recognize true quality, either.
I have my own style, a very few very nice things, and the rest is the bits wot I cobble together to emboss my own little chop-mark on my existence here. Very often, having that strong sense of self and timing comes of having a parent who knows how and when to garland the occasion with a distinctive flourish.
Here, from my archives (april 2006), is a bit I wrote about Dad and Mom which I felt the need to post again:
One of my favorite mom & dad stories is when I was a kid and we lived in West Memphis, Arkansas. A friend of dad's called up in the middle of the night - passing through town with a desperate car problem. Dad told him to come over and he'd fix it. Now, it just happened to be one of the most brutally cold nights of my life - the ground outside was completely frozen with an even colder wind chill. The next day, we were scheduled to get new carpet, but the guy with the car problem didn't know that. When he arrived, dad looked at the vehicle, figured out what needed to be done, and went back into the house with the guy.
Mom was up, probably sitting in a 3am haze. Knowing her, she was shooting eyeball daggers at this demanding inconsiderate lout for disturbing the household. Mom didn't so much as bat an eye as dad pulled out a box cutter and cut a huge square out of the living room carpet on which to lay on the ground under the car. Meanwhile, the guy is shitting himself, thinking that dad just butchered the nice family carpet to help him out, and boy didn't he feel like a jerk? He was sputtering and apologizing profusely to my mom, and she just stared at him intently. I don't think they ever told the guy, but I don't think he ever called in the middle of the night again. Wicked wit and a flair for drama. Yup, my folks have STYLE.
So that's part of it-- they can't bottle it and you can't come by that sensibility any way but honestly, so say I.
I was driving somewhere Thursday and heard on the news on the radio that a guy working security at the NorthPark Mall Neiman Marcus in Dallas was arrested for stealing something like $400,000 worth of jewelry. In 2004 and 2005, Manuel Alvarez stole at least 400 jewelry items and handed them off to accomplices who sold them on ebay. The irony here is manifold: you can't sell anything remotely related to firearms on ebay, but you can sell about a half mil of stolen luxury goods. Um, ok. Also, I'm betting that as a security guard(a relative had this gig, once), he made in the neighborhood of $40,000-ish/year. He's in jail for 10 years now, so whatever his friends made off that crap on ebay and then split with him, you know he didn't walk away from the whole deal with enough to justify the risk.
If there is any joy to be had--however fleeting-- from possessing fine things or a lot of money, what good is it to you if you know you did not earn same on your own merit? I would be embarrassed, unable to savor such bitter prizes. Better to have a life of simple, spartan appointments than to wallow in excess at the expense of one's good character.
To wrap this all up in a little bow, I'll finish by saying that style has everything to do with personal zest and enjoying life and exactly nothing to do with wealth. Remember that person I derided for the tiedye thingie about a week ago? Well, good on him- he liked what he had on, and what I think is utterly unimportant for his life. As for that NM guy who ruined his life over a few dollars, if exposure to all those mega-wealthy people did not teach him that mega-wealth is not a desireable thing in this life, then he just wasn't paying attention.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Okay, so this 64 year old dude from Dresden was trying to board a plane at the Nuremberg airport when he was told he'd have to buy extra luggage stowage for his 2 liter bottle of vodka, or hand it over to airport flunkies due to limits on carry-on liquids. What to do? He'd been on vacation in Alexandria Egypt, and I suppose he purchased the vodka in the duty-free, or some such, but anyway, at 64, he was addled enough to think the best solution was to chug-a-lug the wodka. Apparently 64 years of life on the planet has not done that guy much good if he doesn't know by now that it's not a good ideer to drink a liter of straight hard liquor. Besides that, um, isn't Dresden closer to the Russian source of (most) vodka than Egypt, anyway?
So, anyway, almost immediately, he was suffering from alcohol poisoning and was taken to a clinic in Nuremberg which, of course, meant that he still didn't get on his plane.
What a maroon!
So, anyway, almost immediately, he was suffering from alcohol poisoning and was taken to a clinic in Nuremberg which, of course, meant that he still didn't get on his plane.
What a maroon!
By the way, I have no idea what this keytag says, but I like it. A lot. Want one.
______________________
For what it's worth, I think I'm falling in love with Greebo. How is this possible? Secretly suspect the author wants to be Greebo.
I normally wouldn't do this sort of thing(post a joke, particularly one sports-related), but I had to make an exception because this is so deliciously illustrative of the humility and modesty of Dallas Cowboys fans. Then again, as I always say: it ain't braggin' if it's true. Careful not to let any foamy flying spittle sully your lapels, kids.
Brett Favre, after living a full life, died. When he got to heaven, God was showing him around. They came to a modest little house with a faded Packers' flag in the window.
"This house is yours for eternity, Brett," said God. "This is very special; not everyone gets a house up here."
Brett felt special, indeed, and walked up to his house.
On his way up the porch, he noticed another house just around the corner. It was a 3-story mansion with a blue and silver sidewalk, a 50 foot tall flagpole with an enormous Dallas Cowboys' flag, and in every window a Cowboys silver star.
Brett looked at God and said, "God, I'm not trying to be ungrateful, but I have a question. I was an all-pro QB, I won 2 Super Bowls, and I even went to the Hall of Fame."
God said, "So what do you want to know, Brett?"
"Well, why does Tony Romo get a better house than me?"
God chuckled and said, "Brett, that's not Tony Romo's house; it's mine."
...and speaking of things sports-- if team names connote bad-assery and sheer staying power, why haven't there been teams named Pigeons, Grackles and Cockroaches? They're the real success stories on our planet, after all...
Brett Favre, after living a full life, died. When he got to heaven, God was showing him around. They came to a modest little house with a faded Packers' flag in the window.
"This house is yours for eternity, Brett," said God. "This is very special; not everyone gets a house up here."
Brett felt special, indeed, and walked up to his house.
On his way up the porch, he noticed another house just around the corner. It was a 3-story mansion with a blue and silver sidewalk, a 50 foot tall flagpole with an enormous Dallas Cowboys' flag, and in every window a Cowboys silver star.
Brett looked at God and said, "God, I'm not trying to be ungrateful, but I have a question. I was an all-pro QB, I won 2 Super Bowls, and I even went to the Hall of Fame."
God said, "So what do you want to know, Brett?"
"Well, why does Tony Romo get a better house than me?"
God chuckled and said, "Brett, that's not Tony Romo's house; it's mine."
...and speaking of things sports-- if team names connote bad-assery and sheer staying power, why haven't there been teams named Pigeons, Grackles and Cockroaches? They're the real success stories on our planet, after all...
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
At play in the fields of the weird...
Goober lawyer came into my office last week looking for his lawyer friend who lives on property. A true Social Inept, I could tell he thought he was going to do the big-swinging-lawyer routine for the dumb office-wench since he doesn't get around civilian females much and rarer still gets the chance to flex his superior brain-power. He picked up a publication from my table and started yammering about the election next year. In a sneeringly smug and pedantic monotone he made statements to the effect of I'm-regurgitating-the-minced-baloney-talking-points-we-all-got-from-Als-FrankenGore-because-enlightened-people-be-democrats-of-course and I just sat there. *blink*blink* When he ran out of breath at the end of his one-note samba about the idiocy of electing Republicans, he finally paused to ask me what I thought. I said, well, I'm actually more Libertarian than anything and he shot back with "why would you vote for Giuliani?" and I said "I wouldn't(and here's where I was off-to-the-races), and frankly, I can't imagine why liberal democrats have been so unhappy with George W Bush when he's been more liberal than Clinton and he's grown the government like a drunken-- well, like a Kennedy, and he's WAY too liberal." I said more, but I'm boring myself here.
Then he decided to retreat to a safe corner by saying "And what was with calling Reagan the great communicator? I just don't get that at all." The funny thing is that with each new tack he took, I could tell he was using what he thought were the sure-fire popular-with-the-ladies talking points, and he looked shocked. With the patience one uses to explain to a 2-year-old that the potty is, indeed, a chair they get to shit in, I splained him that after the bumbling international embarrassment of the Carter presidency, Reagan's bright-eyed optimism was a breath of fresh air and that he never lost that sheen, that he --like most Americans-- believed the greatness of America was not merely a thing of the past, and if you simply hammer people with a negative message constantly, eventually you will lose your audience entirely and Reagan was the antidote to that fire-and-brimstone political crap. I pointed out also that a lot of Dems were so stirred by RR's sincerity that they actually crossed the aisle.
He asked what I thought of Bush as a person and I said he seems likeable to me, and that I thought it was ironic that Dems accuse him of being so devious and sinister that he plotted 9/11 and yet they turn around and call him names and say he's a puppet for Cheney and you can't have it both ways-- simultaneously the dumbest and most canny person on earth. He said "I just don't like Cheney - something about him - he's so, so, so cynical."
I said "that's funny. You strike me as an extremely cynical person yourself-- do you think it's okay for you to be cynical but Cheney, having been vilified because people simply don't like him has no cause to be cynical?" Dude started sorta sputtering and I was done. I let him dribble all over himself as I stared very hard at words on a page and he finally sorta shuffled out the door.
Next time I have to go through that crap, though, I'm going to make it interesting for myself. I'm going to don my best apocalyptic-white-trash persona and in what might fairly be called the rape of the Engrish language, I'm going to find the most ignernt way of agreeing with them as possible and going one step beyond. I'll suggest concentration camps for conservatives and that we inspect everyone's home to make sure no one has the old-style lightbulbs or polluted indoor air or lead paint. I want them to question what is so very wrong with liberal Democrats that my unschooled ass could be one. Because straight-up logic simply doesn't work, obviously, and no doubt he's completely convinced of my ignorance now.
I prefer harmonious interaction with people (even those with whom I disagree as well as the occasional monkey) and I intensely dislike conflict, but if someone will keep pushing and not reading these obvious signals, then they'd better come correct, because I'm bringing my A-game and I'm not in the custom of losing arguments, not even to platitude-spouting attorneys.
Sorry. Another one of my rambles. I forgive myself, and hope you will as well.
Anyhoo. Have a great day.
Goober lawyer came into my office last week looking for his lawyer friend who lives on property. A true Social Inept, I could tell he thought he was going to do the big-swinging-lawyer routine for the dumb office-wench since he doesn't get around civilian females much and rarer still gets the chance to flex his superior brain-power. He picked up a publication from my table and started yammering about the election next year. In a sneeringly smug and pedantic monotone he made statements to the effect of I'm-regurgitating-the-minced-baloney-talking-points-we-all-got-from-Als-FrankenGore-because-enlightened-people-be-democrats-of-course and I just sat there. *blink*blink* When he ran out of breath at the end of his one-note samba about the idiocy of electing Republicans, he finally paused to ask me what I thought. I said, well, I'm actually more Libertarian than anything and he shot back with "why would you vote for Giuliani?" and I said "I wouldn't(and here's where I was off-to-the-races), and frankly, I can't imagine why liberal democrats have been so unhappy with George W Bush when he's been more liberal than Clinton and he's grown the government like a drunken-- well, like a Kennedy, and he's WAY too liberal." I said more, but I'm boring myself here.
Then he decided to retreat to a safe corner by saying "And what was with calling Reagan the great communicator? I just don't get that at all." The funny thing is that with each new tack he took, I could tell he was using what he thought were the sure-fire popular-with-the-ladies talking points, and he looked shocked. With the patience one uses to explain to a 2-year-old that the potty is, indeed, a chair they get to shit in, I splained him that after the bumbling international embarrassment of the Carter presidency, Reagan's bright-eyed optimism was a breath of fresh air and that he never lost that sheen, that he --like most Americans-- believed the greatness of America was not merely a thing of the past, and if you simply hammer people with a negative message constantly, eventually you will lose your audience entirely and Reagan was the antidote to that fire-and-brimstone political crap. I pointed out also that a lot of Dems were so stirred by RR's sincerity that they actually crossed the aisle.
He asked what I thought of Bush as a person and I said he seems likeable to me, and that I thought it was ironic that Dems accuse him of being so devious and sinister that he plotted 9/11 and yet they turn around and call him names and say he's a puppet for Cheney and you can't have it both ways-- simultaneously the dumbest and most canny person on earth. He said "I just don't like Cheney - something about him - he's so, so, so cynical."
I said "that's funny. You strike me as an extremely cynical person yourself-- do you think it's okay for you to be cynical but Cheney, having been vilified because people simply don't like him has no cause to be cynical?" Dude started sorta sputtering and I was done. I let him dribble all over himself as I stared very hard at words on a page and he finally sorta shuffled out the door.
Next time I have to go through that crap, though, I'm going to make it interesting for myself. I'm going to don my best apocalyptic-white-trash persona and in what might fairly be called the rape of the Engrish language, I'm going to find the most ignernt way of agreeing with them as possible and going one step beyond. I'll suggest concentration camps for conservatives and that we inspect everyone's home to make sure no one has the old-style lightbulbs or polluted indoor air or lead paint. I want them to question what is so very wrong with liberal Democrats that my unschooled ass could be one. Because straight-up logic simply doesn't work, obviously, and no doubt he's completely convinced of my ignorance now.
I prefer harmonious interaction with people (even those with whom I disagree as well as the occasional monkey) and I intensely dislike conflict, but if someone will keep pushing and not reading these obvious signals, then they'd better come correct, because I'm bringing my A-game and I'm not in the custom of losing arguments, not even to platitude-spouting attorneys.
Sorry. Another one of my rambles. I forgive myself, and hope you will as well.
Anyhoo. Have a great day.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Dear Holly:I'm thinking of you today as you have
your knee interefered with surgically.
Speedy recovery, darling!
Love,
Phlegmmy
HOUSECLEANING:This is a seed necklace I made for Dianne, Kimmer's mom. Turquoise, pineapple quartz, glass, carnelian carved leaves, weird seeds (I have no idea what kind of seeds these are). I love making wonky mixes of stuff like this. I'm jumping back into the beadwork/beadmaking with a vengeance. (which, for me, doing something with a vengeance means I'll think about it every once in a while, so wish me luck.) When I get some more stuff run up and get my art glass gallery in Dallas re-stocked with stuff, then I'll list some of this crap on etsy.com.
WOOHOO!
Commerce. Ain't it grand?
________________
I would like to personally bitch-slap any person who applies makeup whilst driving. Hey, jerk: get up 5 minutes earlier and make yourself cute at home and try not to endanger the rest of us any more than is absolutely unavoidable.
________________
Gave my little dog a bath tonight. She's a short-haired terrier and really doesn't need a bath very often, but she's been seeming a little funky lately. Poor thing. And now it's so cold. I hope she'll forgive me.
I just mopped the entire living room before her bath, and now she's christened it.
Bitch.
________________
Haven't turned the heat on once yet this year, but if tomorrow is like today, I may break down and flip on the switch. Brrrr. Now if it rained and I could stay in bed a couple days with a book, life would be bliss.
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About midday Sunday I got a wild hankering for chiles relleno from Ma
tt's Rancho Martinez in Dallas. They are at 6332 La Vista right next to the art deco Lakewood theater, where Gaston/Columbia/and Abrams all meet. Anyhoo, I'd been puttering around the house before and got a teeny bit of a shock when I stopped for gas and realized how bitterly cold it was outside. (nice!) Perfect weather for Mexican food.
tt's Rancho Martinez in Dallas. They are at 6332 La Vista right next to the art deco Lakewood theater, where Gaston/Columbia/and Abrams all meet. Anyhoo, I'd been puttering around the house before and got a teeny bit of a shock when I stopped for gas and realized how bitterly cold it was outside. (nice!) Perfect weather for Mexican food. I'm not a fiend for Mexican food, but I do love rellenos, so when they are on the menu, that's almost always what I choose. A relleno is a poblano pepper (or sometimes an Anaheim) roasted just enough so the skin peels off the outside and so the membranes (where the heat is in this pepper) pull out easily. Then the pepper is stuffed with a mild white cheese, pre-cooked chicken or beef (I always get the cheese). The next step is where many differ on relleno preparation. My favorites do a really light batter in which this little pocket of paradise is fried for a little bit. Another method is to beat egg whites until stiff, lay a pad of the eggwhite onto the hot
grease, then carefully lay the pepper atop, finally covering that with another layer of the frothy eggwhite. Then, once that little gem is fried, you lay it on a plate and top it with shredded white cheese and some people like a red ranchero sauce, but I like a green tomatillo sauce. For those of you not blessed to already know about tomatillos, they are little green Mexican tomatoes which are a little bitter and not sweet like a conventional red tomato. They have a marvelous flavor, though, and a good tomatillo sauce can really make a dish, in my opinion.
Anyway, Matt's also puts pecans and raisins on top of the shredded cheese. Then it's served with refried beans and Spanish rice. Yum. I think I could eat one again.
Have a great week!
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