4.30.2008

Sing. Sing a Song. NOW, y'all.

It was a long night for Choir Director Miss Jane.

"Miss Jane, I don't like this song. I'm not going to sing it."

"Miss Jane, I have to go potty. NOW."

"Miss Jane, my dog's name is Juicy."

"Miss Jane, Conrad (not his real name -- are you kidding?) hit me with his rhythm stick."

And that was just in the first 15 minutes.

This photo, taken after the Little Rascals had scampered off to parts unknown and away from me, sums it all up:

That's the floor. And those are stickers. Attached to the floor. With self-adhesive. What little nails I had going in to tonight are now completely destroyed.

Not without irony, I just took this test:
17



I'll be ready for next week. Bring. It. On.

A Word from the English Major

Literally. A word.

One that is new to me, believe it or not.

gimcrack
\JIM-krak\
noun: A showy but useless or worthless object; a gewgaw.

adjective: Tastelessly showy; cheap; gaudy.

Where has this bit of locutious genius been all my life?

I'm now making it my mission to use this at least once in a sentence.

Any suggestions would be welcome...

4.29.2008

Cheese of the Week

Village People. "Sex Over the Phone."

It really doesn't get any better than this. Seriously.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

(PS: This one's rather NSFW -- and not just because of the mockability factor either...)

Where's Marlon Perkins when you need him...

A tale straight from the annuls of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom... just click play!



Mobile post sent by citizenjane using Utterz. Replies. mp3



Live Long and Prosper. It's TMI Tuesday.

1. Early bird or night owl?
While in my soul, I’m a night owl, in reality, I’m an early bird. A really early bird, thanks to this damn insomnia that I wrestle with. Ugh. I’d like to blame my bladder for it, but in reality I wake up in the wee small hours regardless of whatever my urinary system tells me. It’s genetic, this thing. My mom also wakes up at odd hours -- always has. She calls it her “spooking around time.” What that entails, I'm never been quite sure. Me -- I either watch the telly (thank goodness for TV Land) or get on the net. Whee.

2. Where was the first place you ever had sex?
HA! This wins the Most TMI Question of the Week as far as my details are concerned.

Under my parents’ Christmas tree.

Top that, y’all. Jingle my bells, baby.

3. On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you? (1 is lowest, 10 is highest)
Let’s just put me at a firm 5. Some days, it’s higher. Some days, it’s lower. Gotta go with the average, because nothing in this arena is stagnant with me.

4. Are you more submissive or dominant?
Everyday life: personality/mouthiness/control issues = dominant. Can’t help it.
However, I suspect there are some arenas in which that submissive thing would come to the forefront... and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

5. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Yes. Hopeless romantic. Sometimes, you just know. And once or twice in the past, I have known immediately. BAM! Sigh.

Bonus (as in optional): Describe your bed time habits. What side do you sleep on? What do you usually wear? Any night time rituals?
Before getting into bed: brush teeth; wash face; every two-three days, use this thingy; slather on night cream. Once in bed: moisturize with lotion all appendages and feet; apply lip balm. Sometimes I watch the telly, sometimes I read. (on the nightstand now: Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72. Go McGovern!)

What I wear to bed varies: nightie, t-shirt and panties; pj pants and a camisole. It totally depends. I sleep on the right side of the bed, closest to the door and to Will’s room. Which is important because we’re a dynamic duo during the week and I need to be able to hear him should he need me. Although truth be told, I tend to sleep all over the bed when it’s just me. When the mister’s home, I at least start the night on the right side -- even though I sometimes forget to stay in my space and end up doing the across-the-bed sprawl. Which doesn’t go over very well, as you might imagine.

Oh -- and I must have a fan on. Need that air circulating. Also -- even in the dead of winter (which here in Florida isn't really winter at all, but it's all I've got, so work with me here...) I sleep barefoot with my feet poked out from under the covers. I'm hard on a made bed. Bed Chaos, I call it. Nothing stays tucked. Ever.

Fun fact about me: I can pretty much fall asleep anywhere. I've nodded off in a bowling alley before, as well as in the stadium during the big homecoming pep rally/show extravaganza at the University of Florida. Movie theatres are a danger zone for me -- cold and dark. When I say that I've seen parts of a movie, this right here is the main reason why.

What can I say... it's a gift.

4.28.2008

Paging Dr. Gonzo...

I can't help it -- j'adore these lolcatz things. HA!

PS: Wear some golf shoes,
otherwise we'll never get out of this place alive.

Just Because

I think I'd like this embroidered on a pillow...
and is that a caftan/muumuu underneath the mink?
Awesome.



My daily dilemna...

You know I'm gonna deploy this as soon as possible...

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, baby...

Sighting

This is the current blurb on the marquee of my neighborhood elementary school. (Note: it's NOT the one Will attends.)



I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

I'm learning towards the latter.

DJ Will Presents Music Monday Madness!

Everybody dance!

(Pssst... for more musical musings, check out Soccer Mom in Denial.
You'll be glad you did!)

It's no secret that Will loves music. You can just have met him and chances are he'll have broken into song within minutes. Sometimes, I'm lucky and he'll sing something benign and age-appropriate, like "Itsy Bitsy Spider" or "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schimidt" (boy, did that guy's parents not like him -- what a mouthful of a name. I like to think that he's named after grandfathers -- ergo all the monikers). But more often than not, he'll sing a slightly more grown-up tune. Like the other day, walking into the building where his classroom is, he shared the chorus of Pete Townshend's "Slit Skirts" with one of the neighboring teachers.

Way to go, buddy.

Actually, I was just thankful it wasn't the last song he heard on the radio: "Take Me Home Tonight" by Eddie Money.

(Again, remember to vote for me for Mother of the Year. Balloting is still open...)

So without further ado, here's a small sample (and I'm SO not kidding on that -- kid's a human jukebox) of Will's favorite songs. You'll note that many of them stem from the decade of the 1980s. Guess the alterna-pop apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

4.27.2008

Garbo Speaks!

OK, it's not really Miss Garbo. It's me. But I got your attention, didn't I...

Anyhoo -- check this out... it's a mobile audio blog entry from moi! What a marvel is modern technology...

Mobile post sent by citizenjane using Utterz. . mp3

You too can share your dulcet tones with the rest of the world: just go to Utterz and sign up.

I'll be listening for you...

4.26.2008

Cotización

We'd have a writing lesson,
we'd make love
and then go to lunch in
whatever order that might be...


~ Carole Mallory, longtime mistress of Norman Mailer





Throw in a sporting event on the telly and you have my idea of a perfect day.

(smooches to Sprezzatura for bringing this to my appreciative attention)

I think my midlife crisis is here: I'm pondering getting a

tattoo.


For the scoop on Singular Saturdays,
check out Jen in Holland's fab blog.

4.24.2008

Killin' Time...

and taking quizzes to avoid the abundance of laundry staring me in the face. Hey, I can waste time with the best of them.

In the words of that great philosopher, Gomer Pyle:
Surprise, surprise, surprise.

Not.




Your Political Profile:



Overall: 10% Conservative, 90% Liberal



Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal



Personal Responsibility: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal



Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal



Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal



Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal



~~~~~~~~~~

Who knew? I'll take this...




You Are Confident Sexy



You're one sexy chica, and you know it.

You've got the confidence to strut your stuff...

And approach any man who happens to catch your eye.

You may make a guys run away, but the true men will appreciate your moxie.



~~~~~~~~~~

Shocking.





You Go For Brains!



You want a guy with a big... brain.

And of course it would be nice if he were a total hottie, but you're not counting on it.

What's on the inside is what counts for you. (Besides, you can always change the outside later!)



~~~~~~~~~~

Natch. And Duh.




You Are a Mac



You are creative, stylish, and super trendy.

You demand the best - even if it costs an arm and a leg.

Make mine a White Russian

4.23.2008

Public Service Announcement

This weekend, hundreds, nay thousands of people will be pounding the pavement to raise money for an amazing cause... the March of Dimes. The leading nonprofit organization for pregnancy and baby health, MOD is dedicated to improving the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth and infant mortality.

I'm all for helping out charities and philanthropic efforts in any way possible. It's important and imperative for me to give something back to our world and to help those who need it. It's just how I'm programmed.

However, this one is different. It's personal. Deeply and painfully so.

Will owes his life in some part to the research that March of Dimes helps to fund. Plain and simple.

I won't prattle on about the details of his amazing, wacky and complicated health history -- I've downloaded my psyche (or at least the part I'm cognizant of -- there's still more angst to mine, I think) about this already in what I call The Will Chronicles. But -- this is the first time that I've been able to post pictures of his earliest days. It's not the "able physically" part that was the roadblock -- I've got the hang of the scan/edit/post thing down pat. It's the "able emotionally" part that held me up. Still isn't easy to look at them nearly seven years removed. The scar tissue on my soul is still shockingly fresh, the memories still hauntingly vibrant.

Here are some facts, just to give you an idea of what the March of Dimes is tackling...

Educational Minute: One out of every eight babies is born prematurely in the United States. That's approximately half a million little ones every year.

Most pregnancies last around 40 weeks. Babies born between 37 and 42 completed weeks of pregnancy are called full term. Babies born before 37 completed weeks of pregnancy are called premature.

Premature birth is a serious health problem. Premature babies are at increased risk for newborn health complications, as well as lasting disabilities, such as mental handicaps, cerebral palsy, lung and gastrointestinal problems, vision and hearing loss, and even death. Many premature babies require care in a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), which has specialized medical staff and equipment that can deal with the multiple problems faced by premature infants.

Most premature babies (71.2 percent) are born between 34 and 36 weeks of gestation. These are called late preterm births. Almost 13 percent of premature babies are born between 32 and 33 weeks of gestation, about 10 percent between 28 and 31 weeks, and about 6 percent at less than 28 weeks of gestation.


Will was in that last, very scary 6 percent, coming into the world at 25 weeks gestation. And yes, he still wrestles with a number of those conditions common to micropreemies.

Despite statistics and odds and brushes with mortality, he's thriving, bringing joy, pride and wonderful standard kid annoyance to me every single day. If you ever want to see a living, breathing miracle in action, I'll be happy to bring him over and let him share his infectious personality with you.

He is amazing.

Unfortunately, we're not going to be participating in the physical part of the March for Babies this year -- time and schedules and life just got in the way. But we'll be there in spirit.

I'm blathering on about this just as a PSA to ask that if you are approached by someone to donate to this unbelievably worthy cause -- please seriously consider it. And don't be surprised if this time next year, I'll have hit y'all up to help out. I'm not shy when it comes to matters affecting my baby. Yes, he's almost seven. But he's still my baby, no matter how much he protests to the contrary.


They do good work, these March of Dimes folks.

I should know.

Time Waster Wednesday

I'm sleep-deprived, preoccupied and bleary-eyed.

These quizzes, from Blogthings.com, suit my frame of mind. I can think without having to work too hard. Perfect.

~~~~~~~~

I totally knew how this one was going to turn out,
even before I took it...




You Are Miss Piggy



A total princess and diva, you're totally in charge - even if people don't know it.

You want to be loved, adored, and worshiped. And you won't settle for anything less.

You're going to be a total star, and you won't let any of the "little people" get in your way.

Just remember, piggy, never eat more than you can lift!



~~~~~~~~~
Hmmm. This one is interesting.
Not sure I agree with it totally, but it's food for thought...




You Should Be a Joke Writer



You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation.

Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life...

You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.

You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.



~~~~~~~~~

OK. This I'll take...



People Envy Your Ingenuity



You're a person with unique ideas, big plans, and a zany outlook on life. Many people look to you for inspiration.

People envy your creativity and "who cares?" attitude. They feel very ordinary next to you - and they usually are!



~~~~~~~~

BOO-YAH!



Your 80s Theme Song Is:



You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC




~~~~~~~~
Guess it's my favorite color for a reason...



Your Mind is Purple



Of all the mind types, yours is the most idealistic.

You tend to think wild, amazing thoughts. Your dreams and fantasies are intense.

Your thoughts are creative, inventive, and without boundaries.



You tend to spend a lot of time thinking of fictional people and places - or a very different life for yourself.

4.22.2008

TMI Tuesday: Full of Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams

1. Pancakes or waffles? With or without toppings?
Hmmmm. Good question. If I had my druthers, I'd go with (C)French toast. Regardless of which sweet morning-starting treat I chose, it would be totally without toppings. Maple syrup and butter only. None of this chocolate chip or whipped cream or flavored syrups stuff for me.

2. They say, "Way to a man's heart is through his stomach." What is the way to your heart?

All together now -- it's through my brain. Yada yada yada.

Although a little massage, some sweet and/or naughty whispers in my ear and a little intimate caress (especially if it's done slightly subversively while we're in a public place) also work. Very well, I might add.

3. Have you ever gone to a topless/clothing optional beach? If yes, did you participate?
No. Never have even had the opportunity. However, that's not to say I wouldn't consider it should said opportunity present itself...

4. What song(s) reminds you of a previous relationship (for good or bad)?
"Out of Touch" ~ Hall and Oates
"Piano in the Dark" ~ Brenda Russell
"Start Me Up" ~ Rolling Stones

I'll save the stories for another time...

5. When, where and with who was your best kiss ever?
When: Fall, 1984, immediately following the Florida Gators' securing the SEC Championship after a win over the Kentucky Wildcats

Where: The bedroom of the house in which my galpal's boyfriend resided

Who: Said galpal's boyfriend

Yeah, sadly and shamefully, I was that girl who messed around with my friend's fellow. And it turned out just as you might imagine it would -- ugly and painful and sad, as I lost a friend in the process.

However, I still remember a kiss we shared before secrets went public. The Gators had just won their first conference championship ever -- and a bunch of us were at a watching party at galpal's boyfriend's house. After the game was over, I went into GPBF's room to call my dad so we could have a little celebration on the phone. As I picked up the phone, GPBF came into the room, presumably to get something or other, took me by the waist, pulled me to him and kissed me with such passion that I felt my knees go weak. Perhaps it was the emotion; perhaps it was the exciting illicitness of a such a moment. Regardless... it's been well over 20 years and I still remember the feelings I had like it was yesterday.

Bonus: Does anyone not currently in a relationship with you have pictures or you or your body part(s) that you would prefer that other people not see?

No. Frickin'. Way. I don't even like to have my picture made fully clothed. So there you are.

Waving the white flag

I give up.

I surrender.

I'm over it.

Something weird and wacky is going on with the layout of the blog. My sidebar items keep rolling down below the main text block and I'll be dammed if I can figure out why.

Ugh. Any suggestions are appreciated. As would be the name of a good psychic/soothsayer/hippie to help exorcise whatever mischievous little sprite is playing loose and fast with the code and my sanity. A voodoo doll would also work.

4.21.2008

Welcome to Music Monday. We're on a mission from God.

Hit it.

(Pssst... for more musical musings, check out Soccer Mom in Denial. You'll be glad you did!)

Hey, kids! Let's put on a show!

~ Judy Garland & Mickey Rooney

Deep inside me, beneath the layers of motherhood and culture vulture and cook and bookworm and sports nut, lies a bone. A single bone on its own.

A ham bone.

I admit it -- I'm a total Pavolvian bitch when it comes to the smell of greasepaint and the roar of the crowd. I like being on stage -- not so much for the accolades as for the creative outlet and the entertainment value. Don't get the opportunity to show this side of me very often -- the occasional karaoke night not withstanding.

But when opportunity knocks on my dressing room door and tells me that it's five minutes to curtain, I answer.

One such moment came back in the early '90s, when lip synching was still the rage. It was a fundraiser for the youth group at church. A lip synch contest. And I was all in.

My pal Carole and I labored over what to perform. We entertained the idea of Diana Ross and the Supremes, but couldn't find our Florence Ballard. Sonny and Cher -- nah. The Judds -- are you kidding me?

Finally, one Saturday afternoon, it came to me. We would be Elwood and Jake. The Brothers Blues. Perfect.

And so we watched the movie and took copious notes and practiced our moves on Carole's back patio. Tracked down hats and glasses and skinny ties. Used a heavy hand with the eyebrow pencil to give us that bit of facial hair mirage.

I don't remember us winning the contest that night -- it being a church thing, I'm sure everyone was deemed a winner. However, we were indeed hot and more than a little fantasic, if I do say so myself. And we looked great... check us out! (That's me on the right.)


I sadly don't have any video evidence of our performance that night -- so the original will have to do, featuring the genius of Ackroyd and Belushi. It's pretty good. ;-) Enjoy!

(you tube removed while I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on with the code in the blog.)

Under Construction

True to form, I bit off more than I could chew this morning when I decided to tinker with the layout and header of the blog.

After three hours of disaster, I now have to go do the therapy thing with Will.

So here it is, ugly and horrible.

At least on the outside, anyway.

Feel free to laugh. I am -- if just to keep from crying over my ineptitude.

Cotización

From last night's episode of "Brothers & Sisters":

"Maybe we should just continue this examination in the bedroom."

"Ugggh. You're such a Republican. If we were Democrats, we'd be doing it here on the couch."

And there you are.

4.19.2008

After working out this week, my muscles are sore but my spirit is

soaring.


For the scoop on Singular Saturdays,
check out Jen in Holland's fab blog.

4.17.2008

This just in...

I just witnessed one of those little things that is considered very basic in the development of standard issue kids, but not so much in the evolution of my little boy.

Will took a bite of a vanilla wafer, chewed a bit, and then swallowed it.

Didn't spit it out. Didn't gag. Didn't choke.

This. Is. HUGE.

Huge.

Tears are rolling down my face as I write this. We have struggled mightily with his oral defensiveness issues and his unwillingness and basic fear to masticate food. This situation is not uncommon in micropreemies like Will who spent a while on a ventilator.

When Will first began feeding therapy several years ago, his then-therapist told me that this would be a long and arduous process. She wasn't kidding. Will is still on a soft food diet, although he does, for the most part, feed himself. (Tell me that wasn't a red letter day when he got all independent and picked up the spoon without being prompted...)

I long for the day when we can go out for a meal as a family and Will actually eat something off the menu. We're not there yet by any means. But it also took him a while to get the hang of walking by himself, and now he's into everything on foot. So I wear my optimism as a cloak, protecting and supporting me.

The timing and accomplishment on such things is all up to him -- his strong will, which sustained him through the darkest of dark days in the NICU, hasn't lessened any now that he's older. When he's ready to make strides, he will. Just part of who he is. Which is frustrating as hell (just ask his therapists) but a piece of the package.

Today, he took one figurative step forward. Out of the blue.

A bite of cookie. My boy took a bite of a cookie.

And it's a wonderful thing.

Pimp Corner: I love this show so much I'm going to take it out behind the middle school and get it pregnant

Tonight. 8:30 EDT/7:30 Central.

What are you doing?

The answer had better be "watching 30 Rock."

I won't bore you with my poetic waxing about my favorite show on TV right now... but I will just say that if you're NOT watching, you need to. Seriously. I mean it. Not kidding.

Here's a synopsis of tonight's epi, just to whet your appetite (thanks, TV Guide!):

On tonight's episode of 30 Rock, The Beeper King meets Lord Stanley. Dennis Duffy (Dean Winters), the beeper-salesman ex-boyfriend of Tina Fey's Liz Lemon, returns as a newly minted subway hero. Enjoying the media spotlight from his fame, he recruits the Stanley Cup in an unfortunate campaign against illiteracy. "It and me will fight illiteracy," he tells Liz of his silver sidekick, the NHL's championship trophy. (And no, the appearance isn't a corporate-mandated move to boost NBC Sports' coverage of the NHL. Some of the 30 Rock producers and writers just happen to be hockey fans.)

So please. Make me feel better. Watch this tonight. Seriously.

Have I made my point? Good.

"We're On the Radio!"

Walked through the living room just now to find That Thing You Do! on -- and in a lovely serendipity, it was right at the point with my favorite scene in the whole movie. Actually, it's one of my favorite movie scenes ever.

Total exemplified joy.

4.16.2008

Tomorrow, at jane's Y...

... we'll be doing this.



HA!

4.15.2008

Socialist Butterfly

No wonder I get all farklempt and riled up when I read The Grapes of Wrath...

You are a

Social Liberal
(73% permissive)

and an...

Economic Liberal
(16% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Socialist




Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid.com: Free Online Dating
Also : The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Here it is, your moment of Zen. Courtesy of TMI Tuesday.

1. If you were to face the Wizard of Oz, would you want more courage, more brains, or more heart?
Gotta go with courage. I’m fierce when it comes to standing up for my loved ones -- the mama bear instinct, I call it -- but not so much when it comes to myself. I also need a good dose of the kind of courage necessary to take the first step into uncharted waters, especially when it comes to putting myself and my presumed talents out there. Prime example being my writing and actually doing something with it, rather than just talking about doing something with it. I’m all for lip service -- but the smoochy-smoochy kind, rather than the wishy-washy variety.

2. Have you ever gone to court for anything? What for?
No. Never even been called for jury duty. Believe it or not. But I do watch a lot of Boston Legal (Denny Crane.) and Law & Order (Linus Roche, who plays the new DA on original recipe L&O, is my new TV crush... sexysmartintense is he.) Does that count?

3. What was the last thing you did that you previously told yourself you wouldn't do?
Eat out of that bag of Twizzlers that I bought for Will’s feeding therapy. This is a recurring theme with me. My NutriResolve is kind of a slut when it comes to stuff like this. Unfortunately.

4. Did you ever have a summer fling while on vacation?

Does church camp as a teenager qualify as a vacation? If so, than yes. My first big makeout session happened on one of those trips -- with a boy I met at the local Hardee’s who I sucked face with in the dugout of the baseball field next to where we were staying after sneaking out past curfew. My high school cruddy buddy Robin was a co-conspirator in this little adventure, having made the acquaintance of her own local fellow. I’m rolling my eyes just thinking about it.

I also had a fling with a Brit who was visiting our local beaches on his holiday. In an interesting twist, he was traveling with his girlfriend and her parents. We made acquaintance in the hot tub of my friend's time share condo complex, where they were also staying. A quick, subversive walk on the beach for a makeout session was the result. God Save the Queen, y'all.

5. Have you ever done anything sexual with someone whose name you never knew?

No. Always got the first name of the fellow before things commenced.

Whether I remember them now is an entirely different story.

Bonus (as in optional): What is the best way to mend a broken heart?
A pint or three of Ben & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby; repeated listenings to a sad songs mixtape (updated to a playlist these days); a romantic movie film festival (When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle and Pillow Talk are the usual featured flicks); some meaningless rebound action. That usually helps to assuage things. Oh -- and a really, really good cry.

4.14.2008

Put your hands together for Music Monday, people! Whoo!

Rock on -- it's Music Monday, y'all.

(Pssst... for more musical musings, check out Soccer Mom in Denial. You'll be glad you did!)

~~~~~~

So you want to be a rock n roll star?
Well listen now, hear what I say
Just get an electric guitar
Take some time
And learn how to play

~ The Byrds

Picture it... 1988, a club -- dark, smoky, kinetic. Electric. Air sticky with sweat, cigarettes, hair spray, pot, Drakkar Noir, Obsession.

New York, maybe.

No. Definitely.

New York.

A band takes the stage. Keyboards. Guitars. Drums.

The drummer counts off the beat. Instruments start to move, creating sound. Breaking into the density of the air. Cutting off the murmuring conversations.

Out of the darkness comes a voice. Low, husky, strong. Sexy. Attitude dripping from every syllable.

Midnight gettin' uptight
Where are you
You said you'd meet me now it's quarter to two
I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you...


Joan Jett?

La Benatar?

Patty Smythe?

Nah.

It’s me.

Albeit only in my dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~

True confessions: Deep down, in the most private places of my imagination, I've always wanted to be a rock chick.

With an ass and hips that demand to be clad in black leather. (Definitely in my imagination. Treadmill, it's you and me, babe, on this one...)

A discreet tattoo. Located someplace that’s for me to know and you to find out. Or maybe a piercing. (I have a trip coming up to Vegas, where tattoos and piercings and dreams are always possible. 24/7. Hmmm...)

Dark, wild and wavy fabulous hair. (Ooooh, check! This I have already.)

Lots of black eyeliner. Layers of mascara. Deep purple lips. (Hell, I can do that easy-peasy...)

Tambourine in hand, keeping time on my rhythmic hip.

Soulful intonations into a microphone. Being in synch with the music and its players.

Part of a whole.

Yet still individual.

Oh yeah.

Rock on.

Wait. Better think about the vocals. The real foundation of a chick singer in a rock-and-roll-band. The thing without which all the physical trappings would be for naught. The reason I’m up on that stage in the first place.

Consider, if you will...

...the dramatic delivery of Grace Slick

When the truth is found to be lies
and all the joys within you dies
Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love
Wouldn't you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love

~~~~~~~~~~~

...the edge of Chrissie Hynde

In the middle of the road
Is trying to find me
I'm standing in the middle of life with my plans behind me
But, I got a smile
For everyone I meet
Long as you don't try dragging my bay
Or dropping a bomb on the street

~~~~~~~~~~~

...the soulfulness of Cass Elliott

But you've gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind of music
Even if nobody else sings along

~~~~~~~~~~~

...the raw emotion of Liz Phair

Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you
It's inevitable... it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it
So tell me...
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you

~~~~~~~~~~~

...the pureness of Karen Carpenter

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old
Sometimes I'd like to quit
Nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin' around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down

~~~~~~~~~~~

...the attitude of Debbie Harry

One way or another, I'm gonna find ya'
I'm gonna get ya', get ya', get ya', get ya'
One way or another, I'm gonna win ya'
I'm gonna get ya', get ya' ,get ya', get ya'

~~~~~~~~~~~

... the sheer majesty of Pat Benatar

Well you're the real tough cookie with the long history
Of breaking little hearts, like the one in me
Before I put another notch in my lipstick case
You better make sure you put me in my place


In reality -- my voice is nowhere near the caliber of a Benatar or Mama Cass or the divine Karen Carpenter. (Hey now! I can actually carry a tune pretty well. I’ll sing something for you sometime to prove it... just ask me.) But here, in this fantastical context, I can sound like any one I damn well please.

So why in the world have I been sporting this fantasy for so damn long -- even now, into my Woman of a Certain Age years?

Maybe it’s because it’s something radically different for me -- from the way I’ve lived my life and am living my life.

Maybe it’s because this image of myself as a Rock Chick brings to the surface elements of who I want to be. And who I am, somewhere deep within.

Maybe it’s because even in fantasy, the rush of such an experience is exhilerating, heady, seductive. Hot.

It’s rather nice to know that the girl who sang into her hairbrush, harmonizing with Tom Petty on “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” is still around. A little older, a bit wiser -- but still finding the rhythm around her intoxicating and infectious.

I’ll likely never make it on stage with a live band. Closest I’ll get will probably be a drunken night of karaoke. But you damn well better bet that although I’ll be crooning into a mike in front of some more-than-slightly intoxicated friends -- in my mind, it’s CBGBs, baby. Standing room only. And I’m the featured attraction.

Music is the traveler crossing our world
Meeting so many people bridging the seas
I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band.
We're just the singers in a rock and roll band.
I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band...

~ The Moody Blues

4.12.2008

A Word from the Domestic Goddess

I have a Saturday morning ritual. One that I've adhered to, time and schedule allowing, for years. It goes a little something like this:

Wake up. Read paper. Find Will. Make breakfast. Read paper. Turn the TV off of the Disney Channel to the Food Network. And settle in for a morning-long cooking lesson.

Actually, ever since I've been on The NutriSystem, it's been more like a morning of food porn... but I digress.

More often than not, if something catches my fancy during my cooking school time, it will end up on the dinner table that evening. While I like to think of this as being impulsive, it's really more about me not being organized enough to plan the weekend meals ahead of time. However, I have this now down to a science. My inability to plan has evolved into an actual plan. Go figure.

Tonight's dinner is a rerun, taken from that cute Tyler Florence -- his ultimate beef tacos.

And he's not being presumptuous with the name, either. These things are damn good.

Tacos made not from your standard ground beef, but rather from a lovely pot roast which dances and grinds and grooves slow-cook style in a melenage of tomato and spices and onion and garlic and wine. It's amazing. And while you do have to plan ahead, (unlike what that nutcase Jan did the other night on The Office
-- starting osso buco when your guests hit the door. Good grief. But I loved her red Le Crueset. Who knew she had such good taste in cookware...) the prep time is ridiculously easy and smooth. And while the meat cooks, you can prep the salsa and guac. And mix an agave margarita. Or two. See. Easy-peasy.

So here you go. Enjoy. I have a feeling you will.

2 pounds beef shoulder
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1 large onion, sliced
1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes, (recommended: San Marzano)
1 cup red wine
1 tablespoon ancho chile powder
1 tablespoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon ground cumin
3 bay leaves

Vegetable oil, for deep frying
6 fresh medium corn tortillas
Kosher salt
3 cups finely shredded white cabbage
Guacamole, recipe follows
1/4 bunch fresh cilantro leaves

For the simple salsa:
1 (28-ounce) can whole tomatoes, drained, reserving the juice (recommended: San Marzano)
1 small red onion, roughly chopped
1 Serrano chile
1 garlic clove, roughly chopped
2 limes, juiced
1/2 cup chopped cilantro leaves
Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling

Season all sides of the beef with a fair amount of salt and pepper. In a large Dutch oven, or other heavy pot that has a tight cover, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over moderately high heat. Add the garlic and the beef to the pot, browning the meat on all sides, taking the time to get a nice crust on the outside. Add the onion and allow to lightly brown, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the crushed tomatoes, plus 1 tomato can of water, wine and spices; season with salt and pepper, to taste, and add enough water to cover the meat. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer with a lid for 3 hours until the meat is fork tender. Let meat cool in the liquid. Shred meat and set aside.

Heat a large pot of oil over medium heat. When oil reaches 350 degrees F, fry the corn tortillas 1 at a time. Place the tortilla in the oil and wait about 30 seconds. Then use the handle of a wooden spoon to press down into the center of the tortilla and fold it in the middle. Hold down for a few seconds waiting for the tortilla to form into taco shell and then drain on paper towels. Season with salt.

For the simple salsa:
To make salsa, pulse all the ingredients, except the tomato juice, in a food processor. Add the reserved tomato juice if the salsa is too thick. Drizzle salsa with olive oil, cover with plastic wrap and set aside, allowing the flavors to marry.

To assemble the tacos:
Lay some shredded cabbage as a base. Top with some shredded beef. Serve alongside Guacamole and salsa. Garnish with fresh cilantro leaves.
leaves.

Guacamole:
6 ripe avocados
3 limes, juiced
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, smashed then minced
2 serrano chiles, cut into rounds
1 big handful fresh cilantro with stems, about 1/2 cup, finely chopped
Extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Halve and pit the avocados. With a tablespoon, scoop out the flesh into a mixing bowl. Mash the avocados using either a fork or potato masher, leaving them still a bit chunky. Add the remaining ingredients, and fold everything together. Drizzle with a little olive oil, adjust seasoning with salt and pepper and give it 1 final mix with a fork.

Lay a piece of plastic wrap tight on the surface of the guacamole so it doesn't brown and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving.

Yield: about 4 cups

The Real Final Rewind

I just stumbled across what I think is the final installment of my long-ago posts called The Will Chronicles. And thought I'd share it.

It was interesting to read this piece, nearly two years removed from writing it and six years removed from living it. Seems so long ago. Seems like yesterday.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time May Change Me/But I Can't Trace Time

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'

~ Bob Dylan

Once Will was born, the times, for me, as a person and as a mother, had indeed changed. Constantly. Unpredictably. Markedly. Moments marched on, marking the days, weeks, months of Will’s stay in the NICU. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years came, were acknowledged, went. We rang in the advent of 2002 with apple juice along with other parents and hospital personnel in quiet celebration so as not to wake our sleeping darlings.

But... the more things stayed the same, the more they changed in Will’s world. And he knew nothing else but change.

Some days, there was no news -- which was always good news.

Some days, there was so-so news, with information about a necessary procedure or blip on the proverbial radar screen.

Some days, there was great news about weight gain or a clear chest X-ray or decrease in medication.

I was never able to completely and solidly rest in any of this information, for it could turn on a dime. While I was never complacent, I was never completely comfortable either. Coming face to face with the mortality of one’s child has an unsettling and lingering effect on a parent. That other shoe hung perilously on the tips of my toes, waiting to drop at any moment.

Still does.

Every night, I check on Will as he sleeps, even to this day, holding my hand lightly on his back to feel for the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. And any change in his demeanor or good health -- fever, runny nose, cough-- instantly makes me clench inside. For while it’s usually symptomatic of normal, regular childhood stuff, there’s always a chance that it’s a precursor to something more serious. A recent upset tummy sent us racing to the Emergency Room, as that is a first sign of a shunt malfunction. False alarm -- just a stomach bug. Who knew?

It’s still hard to determine what’s a regular kid issue or what’s a uniquely (and more serious) Will issue -- I sometimes feel like the quarterback in the game of Will’s life, often making a play change based on what I see on the field while the clock ticks down.

Normal is indeed all relative.

While my life as the mother of a NICU baby was the product of One Big-Ass Change, it was the little things that stealthily made their way into my life fabric -- things I never even considered before...

...I became a devotee of hand cream (L’Occitane Shea Butter -- nothing better), as the three-minute washings with Super Hospital Soap and the Nifty Scrub Brush required before entering Will’s room wrecked havoc on my skin. And, as a Woman of a Certain Age, it's become a necessity.

...I took to wearing button-down shirts, in the event that it would be a day where Will and I could have some Kangaroo time and he could snuggle on my chest. Like the Girl Scouts say -- always be prepared...

...I knew what days would be good ones to eat in the cafeteria, having become all too familiar with the menu rotation (stay away from the Cream of Broccoli soup...)

My husband and I became amateur, more-than-slightly overinvested neonatologists. Infections, breathing issues, low heart rate, head taps -- all prime topics of conversation. As time progressed, we were able to analyze the numbers and actions on the monitor that kept track of Will’s most vital signs. We knew when an IV tube was not working properly, and how to re-set the timer that regulated the flow of medicine. We read X-rays, assessed blood test results, and evaluated medicinal reports. Much of this we picked up by osmosis, simply by being attuned to our environment and asking questions of absolutely everyone. But we also acquired information on our own (Google is my life-long friend) so that we could not only understand what was happening to our child, but also so we could be the best possible advocates for him.

My world had shrunk to a microcosm of its former self. Everything rose, set, ebbed and flowed within that bunker tucked inside the hospital. Our neighbors, comrades, supporters were the parents of Will’s roommates; we got to know one another through the experiences of our children. We spoke the same language, felt the same emotions, understood the same thoughts. Not that the other people in our lives weren't important -- because they were. They helped to keep us grounded. But these bonds -- the ones formed over isolettes or in the breast pumping room -- were those that were created from a common, shared experience. We were all walking the same mile in the same shoes, albeit perhaps on different routes.

Our prayers soon expanded to include the needs of Will’s friends and their parents. It was actually a liberating experience when we were able to focus on the needs of others, in addition to our own. Progress forward.

But for every little milestone we celebrated, every blessing we received, every success we cheered, there was always something to remind us to never take anything for granted. Out of the blue, right after the turn of the year, we received a very sobering reminder of just how precious and delicate life can be, as one of Will’s little roommates passed away. He too had experienced so many of the ups and downs that Will had, due to his own precarious health situation.

So many mixed emotions accompany such a tragedy -- heartache for the family; sobering realization that there but for the grace of God go I; guilt that my child is surviving. I wish I could say that this was a unique situation, an isolated incident -- but it wasn’t. And it sucks. Big time. Parents should never outlive their children. My little brush with Will’s mortality was as much of a taste of that as I ever want.

But damned if I still don’t remember every bitter nuance of what it does taste like.

Yuck.

Ptooey.

Never underestimate a mother’s sense memory. Even a hypothetical one.

And that is a permanent change. That I can never shake. No matter how hard I try.

Motherhood has a very humanizing effect. Everything gets reduced to essentials.

~ Meryl Streep

Trying to condense my myriad thoughts into one word for this great exercise is proving to be a task most

onerous.

For the scoop on Singular Saturdays (and to read the thoughts of people much more brilliantly concise than I),
check out Jenn in Holland's fab blog.

Cotización

(pssst... that's "quote" in Spanish, y'all)

Quote of the day, and quite possibly the year, as found in New York magazine:

In response to the question "What do you think of the Governor Patterson scandals?"

Why did he go to a Days Inn? I mean, I know he's blind and didn't know any better, but his dates should have! If someone took me to a Days Inn, I would never put out.
~ Carson Kressley

4.11.2008

I've got friends in low places...

...why aren't I there with them. Dammit.

Two of my nearest (in my heart -- alas, not geographically) and dearest gal pals were each enjoying some adult beverages this afternoon in their respective corners of the world... and I got to talk to them both on the phone in the throes of their alcoholic fun.

What a riot.

They were adorable.

And I'm jealous, not only because I'm not drinking tonight -- I'm actually reorganzing shit around the house and deploying some new slimline hangers to try and save space in my 1950s storage-challeged bedroom closet (yes, I live a life of unparalleled glamour. Please try to control your envy.), but because I'm not hanging out with either of them.

However, my NC galpal arrives here on Sunday for a week. Hooray! And I'm going to see my MD galpal next month. Hooray again!

But for a girl who thrives on instant gratification, this isn't really cutting it for me. I'm about to dip into my wine coolers (shut. up.) to help sustain me during my domestic frenzy tonight. And who knows... I might get spirited enough to partake in my favorite drunk communication pasttimes: drunk dialing and, best of all, drunk IMing.

You've been warned.

Cheers!

Fine Wine of the Week

Mudcrutch. "Scare Easy."

What the hell is Mudcrutch, you say...

Mudcrutch was a rock band from Gainesville, FL (home of THE University of Florida) and was basically the forerunner of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Per info from Mudcrutch Farm, a TP & the HB fan community, there was an actual Mudcrutch Farm where some band members lived -- it was located in a patch of woods off North 13th Street in Gainesville near Dub's bar, where the band was a regular act.

(My pal and fellow '80s apologist Steve Spears has a great Dub's anecdote. It's far more interesting than my Dub's story about blowing off packing to go home for the summer in order to see Bo Diddley play live... but I digress.)

Anyhoo.

Mudcrutch has reformed and is releasing an album the end of this month -- with "Scare Easy" as the first cut. It's country-jangly-and-
slightly-spooky Petty... which to me, is Petty at his best.

Listen and enjoy.

Excellent.

humorous pictures
see more crazy cat pics

From the all-rodent remake of Say Anything. The Ione Skye part is played by a cute little hamster in a dark wig. In case you were wondering.

4.10.2008

The Horror! The Horror!

The glorious, divine and fabulous thombeau displayed this gem on Planet Fabulon -- and it was so close-to-home for me that I had to share it here:

I swear to you that could be me, as I've had this very same reaction -- that "Mistah Kurtz, he dead" horrified silent scream -- to the discovery of an empty Grey Goose bottle in the freezer.

Sigh.

My Fat Ass. Is Totally Badass.

On today's agenda:

* An hour on the treadmill. 450 calories burned. Done.

You can probably smell me from wherever you are. I'm one schvitzy chica. But, damn, do I feel good.

* Take a load of clothes that are TOO BIG to Goodwill. To do.

Boo-yah, baby. The problem is that I've been doing some shopping to supplement the items I've been giving away. Being a fitness sex goddess is an expensive responsibility. HA!

* Continually shake my groove thing, which is just a bit smaller.

Might even let you cop a feel.

Oh. Yeah.

Here's a bit of what runs through my head while I'm doing time on the treadmill at the Y... I listen to this, breaking up the tunes with some classic podcasts about my favorite decade. It's a good mix -- works for me.



Somehow, this makes my NutriMeals taste just a little more satifying. Mmmmm.

Tell your gay mom thanks for the flowers!

My life is set to get a whole lot better tonight about 8:29 pm EDT.

New episodes of 30 Rock hit the airwaves at that time.

And I am giddy with anticipation.

I will probably wax poetically in the 'morrow about it (the episode is entitled "MILF Island" -- c'mon. How can I not love something with that moniker...) but until then, here's a snippet of goodness to either tide you over or get you acquainted with the genius of this program.



PS: This is brilliant, but embedding is a no-no. Go watch anyway. There'll be a quiz later... so I'll know if you actually tuned in:
Great Moments from 30 Rock. Seriously.

PPS: Never go with a hippie to a second location.

A Moment... A Good Moment

My cynical, snarky heart was put to the test last night during American Idol's big phianthropic extravaganza, Idol Gives Back. With testimony after testimony focusing on the heart-wrenching needs of people around the world juxtaposed with production numbers and sparkle, it was alternately touching and bizarre.

My DVR cut out before the end number, so I didn't get a chance to see the big finish until now. And I'm glad I did. Color this church-goin' girl surprised to hear her favorite praise song, "Shout to the Lord". Rather cool, actually. Sure, the words were changed a bit for the telecast to make things a little more globally appropriate. I get it and totally understand -- and applaud this change. But as far as an inspirational song goes, you won't find a better one. At least not in my book.

PS: My AI boyfriend, one David Cook, is amazing in this...