Top Design starts tonight! Wheee! Honestly, a big part of the appeal for me is that the Project Rungay guys are blogging it. They're hilarious. Set aside an afternoon and read their archives, you'll pee. Here's the Project Runway blog, they've been going back in their fabulous way-back machine to visit previous seasons. And here's the Top Design site. They link to a interview with Jonathon Adler and Tim Gunn (crossing myself as I type that). "Good Lord, Jonathan, sit like a lady! It's an interview, not a bris!" I love them.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
The one time I'll let you watch local news
Look! My kids are on TV and it's not on Nanny 911 or Wifeswap! A local news guy came over to interview the heads of Small Angels about a grant we got for neutering guinea pigs. blah blah blah. But look! It's my kids! And my piggers!
Watch the video
The "watch" button is up under the title. You need to hear this guy's Stephen Colbert delivery. "...the cute tiny pets their kids....just have to have." He also implies that Gypsy and Rosie are foster pigs. They are not. You can't have them. So shut up. The best part about having the TV camera here? I cleaned a little. One less day in squalor, one less week of therapy I'll have to pay for later.
Watch the video
The "watch" button is up under the title. You need to hear this guy's Stephen Colbert delivery. "...the cute tiny pets their kids....just have to have." He also implies that Gypsy and Rosie are foster pigs. They are not. You can't have them. So shut up. The best part about having the TV camera here? I cleaned a little. One less day in squalor, one less week of therapy I'll have to pay for later.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Report from the WV Book Club
There were more teeth and fewer chickens than I expected, but they still picked a crappy book. One for the Money by Janet Evanovich. I tried to read one of these once, I'd heard from several otherwise reputable sources that I'd love the main character. I never got a chance to find out b/c the writing was so horrid. It was really self-conscious and stagey. I was never able to forget I was reading a book, you know? I'll try again, though, since I want to give the group a go.
It's quite a different crowd than I'm accustomed to. Several older women, several people who spoke of Tuesdays with Morrie in approving, rather than scornful, tones. The host, though, is just batshit crazy. Probably harmless, but utterly bonkers. She gave this kind of talk to open the meeting. Told us about how she'd had a book club in Texas and how much she'd loved it, but coming to WV she couldn't find one. So she had started keeping journals. At this point, she produced said journals. She'd write a couple of pages about each book, research the author, print and clip reviews...and paste it all into the book along with cutesy little scrapbooking stickers. Seriously? My jaw dropped. I didn't realize that people like this roamed, unmedicated. My first clue should have been when I walked into the house and there was a Playmobil castle set up. Intact. Wholly un-sacked. No evidence of it being strewn around the room, ever. That's just...unfathomable with a 4 year old in the house. So she told us that she decided she didn't want to be like this anymore. That she wanted to talk to real people about books. So she gathered us together. She staged her own intervention. Now THAT's a control freak.
On the way home, Lara and I gossiped and she told me that Ginger (the host, who kept joking that she had OTC, the hell?) had strict rules about the toys. Each sort of toy is kept in a bin and only one bin can be open at a time. There will be no mixing of trains and blocks, my friends. That way lies madness! I started fantasizing about locking her in Ben's room: (and this photo is B.L. [before the coming of our Holy Legos]):
She'd be beating on the door within minutes, "I can't breathe!! Let me out!! Chaos. Closing. In!" Or she'd clean it. Either way, I win.
In other news: yesterday, Caroline gave Lily some of Rhiannon's hand-me-downs. One of them was a much-coveted two piece bathing suit. Lily pulled it out and exclaimed, "Look! A zukini!"
It's quite a different crowd than I'm accustomed to. Several older women, several people who spoke of Tuesdays with Morrie in approving, rather than scornful, tones. The host, though, is just batshit crazy. Probably harmless, but utterly bonkers. She gave this kind of talk to open the meeting. Told us about how she'd had a book club in Texas and how much she'd loved it, but coming to WV she couldn't find one. So she had started keeping journals. At this point, she produced said journals. She'd write a couple of pages about each book, research the author, print and clip reviews...and paste it all into the book along with cutesy little scrapbooking stickers. Seriously? My jaw dropped. I didn't realize that people like this roamed, unmedicated. My first clue should have been when I walked into the house and there was a Playmobil castle set up. Intact. Wholly un-sacked. No evidence of it being strewn around the room, ever. That's just...unfathomable with a 4 year old in the house. So she told us that she decided she didn't want to be like this anymore. That she wanted to talk to real people about books. So she gathered us together. She staged her own intervention. Now THAT's a control freak.
On the way home, Lara and I gossiped and she told me that Ginger (the host, who kept joking that she had OTC, the hell?) had strict rules about the toys. Each sort of toy is kept in a bin and only one bin can be open at a time. There will be no mixing of trains and blocks, my friends. That way lies madness! I started fantasizing about locking her in Ben's room: (and this photo is B.L. [before the coming of our Holy Legos]):
She'd be beating on the door within minutes, "I can't breathe!! Let me out!! Chaos. Closing. In!" Or she'd clean it. Either way, I win.
In other news: yesterday, Caroline gave Lily some of Rhiannon's hand-me-downs. One of them was a much-coveted two piece bathing suit. Lily pulled it out and exclaimed, "Look! A zukini!"
Sunday, January 28, 2007
For this, he will pay.
From Andi, who is--as I noted in the side bar--too cool for my brother:
I said, "Brent, what the hell?"
Brent, "What? I looked good!"
Me, "The stache? Those sunglasses? White shirt on white pants?"
Brent, "How good do you look in your pictures from back then?"
Me, "What year did Deana graduate?"
Brent, "I don't know, '72?"
Uh huh. First of all, the shirt is a delicate shade of pink, not white. We'll let you draw your own conclusions based on a pink shirt and a mustache. And a deep and abiding love of musical theater. And small dogs that fit into purses. And a huge poster of Tim Gunn in the bathroom. Just sayin.
'89 for the record. A fine year for anti-apartheid Tshirts and giant sweaters from third world countries. Oh, and lacey dresses worn with an above the wrist bone watch.
In other news, I'm off to the first meeting of my West Virgina book club. My friend Lara's mom is co-hosting it and I'm totally joining it just so that I can say I'm in a WV book club. We gon' git alll the way through One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish this time. I only made it to Two Fish before. Other than the humor value, I'm apprehensive. I'm a really picky reader. My time is precious and I'm not wasting it reading something with a martini on the cover or the word "shop" in the title. My hard-and-fast rules are simple and number only three:
1. No chick lit
2. No dead children
3. Must have a sense of humor. It doesn't have to roll about in hilarity, but it cannot take itself too seriously.
But I've been in a reading slump. I haven't read a fiction book in months, other than the ones I read aloud to STeve or the kids. I'm hoping to pull out of it. But what are book clubs FOR? I mean, we read the book. Fine. "I liked it." "me too." "It sucked." "You're wrong." That's the best case scenario, isn't it? They seldom come to fisticuffs, as far as I can tell. And if it's just to get out of the house and talk to other people, I'd rather do something I can WIN, like Trivial Pursuit. (oh, so '89)
I said, "Brent, what the hell?"
Brent, "What? I looked good!"
Me, "The stache? Those sunglasses? White shirt on white pants?"
Brent, "How good do you look in your pictures from back then?"
Me, "What year did Deana graduate?"
Brent, "I don't know, '72?"
Uh huh. First of all, the shirt is a delicate shade of pink, not white. We'll let you draw your own conclusions based on a pink shirt and a mustache. And a deep and abiding love of musical theater. And small dogs that fit into purses. And a huge poster of Tim Gunn in the bathroom. Just sayin.
'89 for the record. A fine year for anti-apartheid Tshirts and giant sweaters from third world countries. Oh, and lacey dresses worn with an above the wrist bone watch.
In other news, I'm off to the first meeting of my West Virgina book club. My friend Lara's mom is co-hosting it and I'm totally joining it just so that I can say I'm in a WV book club. We gon' git alll the way through One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish this time. I only made it to Two Fish before. Other than the humor value, I'm apprehensive. I'm a really picky reader. My time is precious and I'm not wasting it reading something with a martini on the cover or the word "shop" in the title. My hard-and-fast rules are simple and number only three:
1. No chick lit
2. No dead children
3. Must have a sense of humor. It doesn't have to roll about in hilarity, but it cannot take itself too seriously.
But I've been in a reading slump. I haven't read a fiction book in months, other than the ones I read aloud to STeve or the kids. I'm hoping to pull out of it. But what are book clubs FOR? I mean, we read the book. Fine. "I liked it." "me too." "It sucked." "You're wrong." That's the best case scenario, isn't it? They seldom come to fisticuffs, as far as I can tell. And if it's just to get out of the house and talk to other people, I'd rather do something I can WIN, like Trivial Pursuit. (oh, so '89)
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Sisterly birthday wishes
My li'l baby sister turned 30 today! She's now closer to 40 than 20. Just like me!
Here she is at my college graduation. Sporting one HECK of a cool dress.
While we're mocking. Oh, didn't I mention this was for mocking? It is. While we're mocking, check out ol' brother Brent. Rockin' that mustache.
I, however, am adorable. Just like now.
Happy birthday, LaTasha Jo!
Here she is at my college graduation. Sporting one HECK of a cool dress.
While we're mocking. Oh, didn't I mention this was for mocking? It is. While we're mocking, check out ol' brother Brent. Rockin' that mustache.
I, however, am adorable. Just like now.
Happy birthday, LaTasha Jo!
Friday, January 26, 2007
From the Squidink mailroom
Auntie Andi writes:
1. Bean. You don't even have to OWN her. You can just foster her, like you do with the guinea pigs. She's totally trained not to run out the door anymore.
2. Take a look at the people who have dreamcatchers hanging from their rearview mirrors. Really look at them. Not to stereotype (hint: I'm totally about to stereotype), but these are people who rely on daydreaming to get them through the day. They really don't want to lose those daydreams.
3. www.henspa.com. The Hen Chalet on Stilts is effing adorable.
Imaginary Christine writes:
Awww... crap.... I didn't know about Fredo. That sucks. I assume from what's here that he got hit by a car(?) That's what happened to our family's first dog. Breaks my heart.
I hate to say it, but my kids only REALLY got past it when we got another dog and installed an electric fence. Just sayin'
Okay. You maybe didn't notice in your rush to read my next post. I know how it is. But the title of said post was "But we're still not getting a dog." We're not. Fredo was a sweet boy (yes, hit by a car, last August) but my life is measurably easier without a dog. the kids will just have to console themselves with the umpteen other critters in our house. And maybe a new kitten.
I've noticed that dreamcatchers in the front of the car often mean stuffed animals (usually sun-faded) in the back window.
Yeah, I've seen the henspa. You know I want it. I also want 2 thousand dollars. And probably wouldn't spend it on a chicken house if I had it. Send Brent down here to make me one. I'm sure he owes me for something.
And while I'm here...Why is it so frickin' hard to buy snow boots and snow pants in January? HMMM? I got a pair for Julianna at Target, and granted they were super cheap, but damn they're ugly. So ugly I had to get a pair for me as well to give her solidarity. Heinous. I also got her the ugliest snow pants in the world. Poor thing. I keep telling how cool this willmake her when she's a grown-up (hello knock-off Topsiders from KMart!), but she ain't buyin' it. There was not a single pair of boots to fit either Ben or Lily. I got them the last remaining Land's End boots in their sizes at Sears. And they were more expensive, on sale, than the heinous granny boots were full price at Target. Bathing suits? Oh yes, lots of those. And flip flops. Grr.
1. Bean. You don't even have to OWN her. You can just foster her, like you do with the guinea pigs. She's totally trained not to run out the door anymore.
2. Take a look at the people who have dreamcatchers hanging from their rearview mirrors. Really look at them. Not to stereotype (hint: I'm totally about to stereotype), but these are people who rely on daydreaming to get them through the day. They really don't want to lose those daydreams.
3. www.henspa.com. The Hen Chalet on Stilts is effing adorable.
Imaginary Christine writes:
Awww... crap.... I didn't know about Fredo. That sucks. I assume from what's here that he got hit by a car(?) That's what happened to our family's first dog. Breaks my heart.
I hate to say it, but my kids only REALLY got past it when we got another dog and installed an electric fence. Just sayin'
Okay. You maybe didn't notice in your rush to read my next post. I know how it is. But the title of said post was "But we're still not getting a dog." We're not. Fredo was a sweet boy (yes, hit by a car, last August) but my life is measurably easier without a dog. the kids will just have to console themselves with the umpteen other critters in our house. And maybe a new kitten.
I've noticed that dreamcatchers in the front of the car often mean stuffed animals (usually sun-faded) in the back window.
Yeah, I've seen the henspa. You know I want it. I also want 2 thousand dollars. And probably wouldn't spend it on a chicken house if I had it. Send Brent down here to make me one. I'm sure he owes me for something.
And while I'm here...Why is it so frickin' hard to buy snow boots and snow pants in January? HMMM? I got a pair for Julianna at Target, and granted they were super cheap, but damn they're ugly. So ugly I had to get a pair for me as well to give her solidarity. Heinous. I also got her the ugliest snow pants in the world. Poor thing. I keep telling how cool this willmake her when she's a grown-up (hello knock-off Topsiders from KMart!), but she ain't buyin' it. There was not a single pair of boots to fit either Ben or Lily. I got them the last remaining Land's End boots in their sizes at Sears. And they were more expensive, on sale, than the heinous granny boots were full price at Target. Bathing suits? Oh yes, lots of those. And flip flops. Grr.
But we're still not getting a dog
Last night in bed, Lily just started crying. "What's wrong?" "I miss Fredo so MUCH!" (she's sobbing all of this out) "I know he's always beside me [something her friend Brooke told her] but that's imaginary and I can't touch him! I been wanting to touch him for free days!" This from the girl who danced around as he was being buried and chirped to anyone who would listen that Fredo had "bwood on his tongue and it hung out like dis!"
Also: why do people have dreamcatchers hanging from their rear view mirrors? Shouldn't the driver be awake and thus immune to nightmares? I'm worried.
Mildred has started laying eggs! And yes, she's still away at boarding school. It's finally cold enough that I can claim that the weather is keeping me from building a coop...
Also: why do people have dreamcatchers hanging from their rear view mirrors? Shouldn't the driver be awake and thus immune to nightmares? I'm worried.
Mildred has started laying eggs! And yes, she's still away at boarding school. It's finally cold enough that I can claim that the weather is keeping me from building a coop...
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