You were probably wondering if you had anything else to learn about me, weren't you... never fear, more useless information is here!

1. Do you like blue cheese?
It’s bleu. And yes. Mmmmmm.

2. Have you ever been drunk?
Please. Have we just met?

3. Do you own a gun?
No way.

4. What flavor of Kool Aid was your favorite?
Grape, baby

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
Yep

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
Best at a ball park – ketchup and ‘kraut. With a beer.

7. Favorite Christmas movie?
“White Christmas” and “Love Actually” since “A Charlie Brown Christmas” cannot be considered a movie.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Milk; iced tea. But never together.

9. Can you do push ups?
Modified, but yes. Just did some the other day.

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?
Tiffany ball necklace and earrings

11. Favorite hobby?
Tie: cooking and writing. Although I’m working on making one of these more than just a hobby.

12. Do you have A.D.D.?
Just a smidge… oooh – is that something shiny?

13. What's your favorite shoe?
Tie: Black Chucks and black clogs

14. Middle name?
Elizabeth

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?
*I’m really sick of Kashi cereal for breakfast
*Am I ready for Will’s parent/teacher conference this afternoon?
*I’d rather have a root canal than listen to Barry Manilow’s new album of love songs. Good lord, it’s awful.

16. Name three drinks you regularly drink?
Water, iced tea, Grey Goose

17. Current worry?
Will. As always.

18. Current hate right now?
My challenges with organization.

As a young lass, Saturday mornings meant time with my favorite member of the family Leporidae and his crazy – dare I say loony – pals.

Yep. Talkin’ bout Bugs. Bugs Bunny.

These days, The Rabbit is tough to find on the telly. And while my Saturday mornings are now devoted to watching chefs wield their knives and home improvement experts sharing their craft, I often miss just sitting down to watch some Bugs antics.

It occurred to me that while Bugs and the gang were always good for a laugh, they had lessons to impart as well…

Charm goes a long way, especially when one is trying to negotiate tricky situations with itinerant prospectors, earnest hunters and Tasmanian devils.

The Fudd. Always foiled. Never deterred. A role model for the ages.

When literally face-to-face with a shotgun, sticking your finger in the barrel of said gun is the best defense.

Adding the word “le” in front of everything makes you a passable speaker of ze French. Le mew. Le purrrrrrr. Le pussy ferocious. (which may be my new stripper name, replacing Clams Casino.)

Rabbit stew is an international, time-tested favorite. Now, WHERE’S MY HASSENPFFFER!?!

Space aliens. Kind of douchebaggy.

Cross-dressing. Stylish and effective. In any situation.

There is no tragedy in life that you cannot get up and walk away from. Running off a cliff. Sticks of dynamite going off in your hand. Being crushed by an anvil.

When you step off a cliff, there is always a two-second delay before you fall.

ACME. Your source for just about everything.

Sometimes business is really just business. The sheepdog and the wolf went to work together, clocked in, did their respective jobs antagonizing each other, clocked out, went and had a beer.

Look to your right. Then look to your left. Then look to the left of the guy on your left. Chances are three of you probably have a speech impediment. And people neither notice, nor particularly care.

Classical music is teh awesome. And there are some pieces that had previously little-known lyrics and unusual used – songs about rabbit homicide and tunes to be sung while hairstyling are just two examples.

Grannys can be badasses when they need to be. Never underestimate an old lady – especially one wielding an umbrella.

Rabbits are great at time travel. They can jump from sitting with the Knights of the Round Table to hanging with Robin Hood and his Merry Men to causing havoc on the fields and war rooms of WWII.

Taking a left turn at Albukoikee can solve a plethora of issues.

And when you think about it, all we really need in life is to have someone hug us and pet us and squeeze us and call us George.

That right there is the best tidbit of all.

George.

It’s Day Three in my grand “Damn, I’m a Hot Mess” self-remodel plan. Yesterday, I took some notes (put 'em in MS Word so I wouldn’t lose them. Yes, I even remembered to hit save periodically...) on the organizationally-challenging moments during my day. This is just a snapshot of them – I hit the highlights.

Please save your applause for the end of the presentation. There will be a chance to ask questions and make comments then.

Over the course of the day, I…

…worked diligently to remember to call Will’s neurologist for a follow-up appointment to the hospital visit. When I finally connected memory and phone, it was after the office closed for the day – they keep a short day on Wednesdays.

… made a list for the grocery store. Good. Helpful
Forgot the list on my desk. Came home with all but one thing on the list, but working so hard wandering back and forth across the store as items popped into my head made me 10 minutes to collect Will from school.

…spent 10 minutes looking for my keys. They were on the shelf in the bathroom. No, I don’t have any idea why either.

…had to wear my brown Chucks with my jeans/black top because I could only find one of my black Chucks. It’s around here someplace.

…did some think-planning about a long-germinating project I want to kick start. Finally. Did I write any of my brilliant ideas down? Guess…

(However, I **did** do something about this today, putting out feelers and coercing possible partners. So there’s that.)

…was mildly proud of myself for being on time for the Choir Urchins. Or at least leaving on time. This was, alas, a temporary thing. Not my fault I was late because a traffic signal was out at a major intersection. However, the jury’s still out on why I couldn’t find the CD with the new music on it that I sent along with my pal last week when I had to miss because of Will’s health issues.

…half packed about five boxes in different rooms of the house. Got distracted each time I started…oooh look! Shiny!

There’s no question I need some help. Or a personal assistant. Preferably one named Jean Paul who will go shopping with me, split a pitcher of sangria and then go dancing.

However, the likelihood of that is about as much as Jon Gosselin trading in his Ed Hardy wear for a Brooks Brothers look. Onto Plan B…

I’ve started reading “Organizing for the Creative Person” and so far, I’ve learned that I have very strong right brained tendencies.

Shocking. Knock me over with a maribou feather.

In the book’s defense, I’m only through chapter two, so there’s undoubtedly more information and helpful hints to be gleaned. One would think. Right?

Meanwhile, I need to go figure out where I left my reader glasses (I’m not going to tell you how many pairs I own, because then this little revelation would be REALLY embarrassing), handle some logistics for the new house and figure out what’s left to do that I need to do during the rest of the day.

Suggestions welcome.

One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.
~ Friedrich Nietzsche

True confession: I am organizationally challenged. Always have been.

And while my piles of papers make sense to me and my post-it notes on my computer screen are lovely little reminders of to-do items and the running lists I have in my head are always changing and the pile of shoes under my desk works as storage, most of the time – it’s getting exhausting. It ain’t easy being me to begin with. The extra challenges of being organizationally challenged (damn, that’s a lot of challenges) are becoming, well, a lot like me. A little old.

So, here’s the question: can you teach a mature, slightly stubborn and privately scared dog at least one new trick?

I’d like to find out.

Some people I respect a lot adhere to and are experts in organizational stuff -- their system, called Personal Kanban is good. Really good.

But here’s my dirty little secret: I don’t think I’m savvy enough to implement this for myself. My issues are different than the average Kanban user, from what I can tell – I’m not in the public workplace. My life is weird. And truth be told, I really don’t think I’m smart enough to handle it. Call me intimidated. Really intimidated. Shhh...

It’s this way for me with pretty much every organizational system I’ve ever looked at or attempted. Day Timer. Day Runner. Runner Time. Day Day. You name it, I’ve at least looked at it. Maybe it’s the systems. More likely it’s me. I just don’t get it. My hyper-developed right brained self rejects lists – actually, I lose lists. I write calendar dates down AFTER the fact. I procrastinate. I know (or think I know) exactly how much time I need to complete a project. That worked in college. These days, sometimes it’s a hit. Sometimes it’s a miss. I get bored with order. I change my mind midstream on every single project I’ve ever attempted. In fact, my mind never ever shuts down. Which, in itself makes me tired just thinking about it. Damn viscous circle.

There is a huge stress with disorganization and there is also a cost to being disorganized.
~ Carolee Cannata

Yay! More useless information about me! Wheee!


do you get regular massages?: No. But how lovely would that be?
do you have an answering machine?: Nope. Voice mail. Which I’m always forgetting to check. Even though there’s that weird dial tone that indicates we’ve got messages.

what cuss word do you use the most?: Shit, crap, fuck, damn. Yeah. I know.
are you underweight or overweight?: I prefer “curvy”
can you see your veins?: No, actually. But I had to look.


Favorite...
soap?: Ivory for the basics, but I LOVE Neutrogena cocoa butter body wash

fruit?: Banana
. Or maybe apple. Oooh no -- fig.
kind of red meat?: either a filet or a burger. Both prime cut. Both cooked rare.
fish?: Swedish

candy bar?: Zero bar.

Have you ever
...
eaten a whole bag of potato chips?: Please. Have we just met?
eaten lobster?: Yep. Prefer crab, but lobster’s not bad
climbed a mountain?: Indeed I have. NC mountains. The view will take your breath away.

been skydiving?: Heck no.

been water skiing?: No, believe it or not. Odd for a native of the F-L-A.

Do you
...
wish you could change something about your life?: Yes. Yes I do. And we'll leave it at that.
like your nose?: It’s not bad.

like salt and vinegar chips?: YUM! YES!
eat salsa?: But of course.
own a boat?: Does a 30 year old canoe count?

What is
 a small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences?: 
Hmmmm…

I like these questions today -- they're all over the board. Kinda like me. Plus, it's Arctic-like outside in the F-L-A. I'm chilled and a little random... ooooh look! Shiny!

1. Do you have a former lover who you feel is “the one who got away”?
Yeah. I do. He’s the one I always go to that “what if” place in my mind whenever I happen to think of him. Which, thank goodness, isn’t as often as it used to be.

2. Do you have a nickname? If yes, do you like it?
Where do I start? There's Janey, which I adore -- along with the variation Miss Janey, used most frequently by the Choir Urchins. My pops calls me Girlie. And then there's the whole "full name" thing involving my first and middle names. Jane Elizabeth. Which is used more than you think. But only certain people can get away with calling me that...

Lord Almighty,
I feel my temperature rising
Higher higher
It's burning through to my soul

Picture it… North Georgia. The early ‘90s.

For some reason which completely escapes me now, my mother (aka The Belle) and I went on a road trip one fine spring to spend time with my cousin and his wife at their house on Lake Lanier, between Gainesville and Cumming.

Yeah. I know. I laugh every time I reference that town.

Anyway.

Aside from doing the usual family-visiting-family things – sitting around drinking and telling old stories; going out to eat; telling more stories; drinking – my cousin always liked to throw something fun in to the mix. A very genteel Southern gent, he would have been a city slicker out of water in his country environment had it not been for his natural and unassuming charm. One summer visit when I was a young lass, that “something fun” involved catching several hundred dollars worth of fish at a trout farm. My younger cousins and I just kept catching the bloody things and before our host realized it, we had acquired fish for days. The real fun, though, happened later that evening when The Belle and my other cousin’s wife (don’t try to keep up with the family relationships – even I get confused) after consuming several “Silver Bullets” (aka martinis) tried to package the filleted trout into little freezer bags. It’s been over 30 years and I still recall the hilarity that ensued.

So.

The “something fun” for this visit involved a trip to a place called the Lantern Inn. An inauspicious rural Southern joint where the menu was fried and the draught was cold and plentiful. The place had entertainment! – not usual for this sort of establishment. A brother/sister duo.

She was a Patsy Cline impersonator.

And as for the bro -- he took on the icon. The King. The One and Only.

Elvis.

Let's rock, everybody, let's rock.
Everybody in the whole cell block
was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock.

The best part of this whole thing was that these two were multi-talented and multi-taskers. Patsy was a waitress. And Elvis – well, Elvis was the fry cook.

We opted not to eat dinner there the night we went -- if I recall correctly, we’d hit a catfish fry earlier in the evening at the VFW. Amazing hush puppies. So after supper, The Belle, my cousin’s wife and I headed off for an evening of beer and entertainment.

We had plenty of both.

Patsy Cline was meh – not a bad voice, but really – no one can come close to the original voice of silk and heartache.

And then there was Elvis. Wearing the While Jumpsuit. With the moves and the vocal affectations.

Awesome.

By the time he hit the stage, our little crew was well into the long neck Buds. By the time he segued into “All Shook Up” we were dancing on the floor. And by the time he finished up with “Burning Love” we were atop the picnic table we’d been sitting at, shaking our groove things. Even The Belle. Oh yeah.

Little sister, don't you
Little sister, don't you
Little sister, don't you kiss me once or twice
Then say it's very nice
And then you run

Little sister, don't you
Do what your big sister done

After his set, he didn’t retreat to a dressing room to recover and recoop. Nope. There were French fries to cook and some chicken to tend to. The Belle, fueled with Bud and bravado, wandered into the kitchen to extend her appreciation and spent some time with him, still clad in the White Jumpsuit, TCB, baby. That’s Taking Care of Business in Elvis-speak, y’all.

Somewhere in a photo box, I have a pic of us three ladies with Elvis, his parting gift of scarves ripped – literally – from cheap red rayon and autographed “Love, Mike Jones as Elvis”, draped around our necks. Hoping to unearth it sometime during the move.

So today, which would have been Elvis’ 75th birthday, I think not only of the King and his music and his tacky-fabulous-white trash taste, but also of Mike Jones as Elvis. And my One Night with The King.

Uh huh ohh, ohh, yeah, yeah!


I'm all shook up!

Welcome to another installment of The Wonderful World of Janey's Musical Mind.

Today we're playing Word Association -- what’s the first musical thing that these words bring to mind.

Here goes...

Snow: "Snowbird" ~ Anne Murray



Bitter: "She F&$^ing Hates Me" ~ Puddle of Mudd


Cold: “She’s So Cold” ~ Rolling Stones


Snuggle: “Love Song”~ The Cure


Kind: “Cruel to be Kind” ~ Nick Lowe



Tree: “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree” ~ Tony Orlando and Dawn


or

“Feed the Tree” ~ Belly


Dark: “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning” ~ Frank Sinatra


Long: “Long Time Gone” ~ Dixie Chicks


Candy: “Sex and Candy” ~ Marcy Playground


Special: “Saturday Night Special” ~ Lynard Skynyrd

Yeah. Day Two of the New Year and I'm doing a meme. I know.

Wait. You're reading it. Seems now we're rather in the same boat. So hush.

(Check out the Saturday 9 for more people's take on these fun questions)

1. What celebrity would you just want to shake some sense into?
Where do I start… Charlie Sheen. Tiger. Courtney Love. Whitney. La Lohan. Anyone who shows their tuchus in an unflattering, stupid light. A big, bright, movie-premiere sized spotlight.

Oh – either Mr. Hamm or Mr. Clooney for not realizing that they were meant to be with me.

2. What do you think comes after death?
Good question. As a Christian, I have very specific ideas about life after death. Let’s just leave it at that.

3. What is the first book that you can remember reading by yourself as a child?
Little Women in about third grade. Loved that book. Still do.

4. What was the first rock concert that you attended?
Chicago. November, 1982. Gainesville, FL. Yeah. I was living on the edge in those days…

5. If you were to suddenly become famous, would you choose a stage name? If yes, what would it be?
Hell yeah! I’d use my middle name as my first name and a family name as my last. Elizabeth Glisson. That might make a good nome de plume, now that I think about it.

6. What is the one thing that you wish the media would stop talking about?
Tim Tebow (love him like it's my job, but c'mon people. Leave him alone.) Tiger Woods. Those #(&$#%^ Gosselins. OK, that’s more than one. My blog, my rules.

7. If you could be part of any band, which one would it be and who would you be and why?
Hmmm. Let’s see…

The Go-Gos. Singer.
The Bangles. Singer.
Luscious Jackson. Singer.

Bodacious.

Main Entry: bo·da·cious
Function: adjective
Etymology: probably blend of bold and audacious
Date: 1832
1. outright, unmistakable

2. remarkable, noteworthy
3. sexy, voluptuous

It’s rather a funny word, though, isn’t it – bodacious. Albeit with some great meanings across the board – yep, even the sexy and voluptuous part. Can’t be noble and upright all the time. (insert lascivious eyebrow raise here)

That’s what I’ve declared the next 365 days to be for me. Full of bodacious living.

How I’m going to be.
How I want the path I follow to be.
How I want the footsteps I leave behind to be.

Bodacious.

I asked some friends to give me one word they would like to see describe their 2010. Here’s what they told me:

Skinnier
Prosperous
Fulfilling
Awesome
Amazing
Improved
Success
Happy
Patriotic
Love
Happy
Lessons
Contentment
Ausgezeichnet
Employed
Lighter
Orgasmic
Opportunistic
Calm
Happier
Plurific
Peaceful
Non-Craptastic
Bacony
Excitement

That works, dontcha think? Got a word to add? Leave it in the comments. I’m curious to see what’s on your psyche.

What is it about the genesis of a new year – a series of days, hours, minutes, moments – that causes the collective humanity to assess themselves and set upon some course of self-improvement at the least and self-awareness ideally.

You got me.

I know, though, that come Monday, my gym will be full of people on a mission. Cigarettes abandoned. Calories counted. Order sought. Calendars streamlined.

Whether anyone will be able to maintain his or her personal quest for the next 525,600 minutes is one of those great unknowns. I’d like to think so. But just as the human condition prompts us to engage in self-improvement activity, it also gives us reason to stop, whether of our own doing or from the doing of outside, unavoidable forces.

At least we mean well.

So what am I going to do with myself here in the shiny and new framework known as the year MMX? So glad you asked…

Have better posture and engage my core CONSTANTLY
Be more sassy
Do unto others…
Laugh every day
Engage in self-confidence, not self-defeat
Make a difference
Make a joyful noise
Pray more
Praise more
Thank more
Trust more
Run that half-marathon
Make my new house a home, with an open door, full glass and engaging heart
Write, dammit – WRITE!

Most of all, though is that I want is to let 2010 be a year of sustained passion – for creative ventures, relationships, myself and life as a whole and to cultivate the belief that passion translates to success by any and all definitions.

Let’s go do this thing called life, y’all, in the year Twenty Ten.

You ready?