Friday, May 6, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Power of Facebook
I'm a little disappointed with myself. I'm back on the Facebook bandwagon that I was so determined to avoid. Eh. People like Facebook. And I want to see pictures. I reactivated my profile for the express purpose of seeing these pictures from the lovely Miss Hannah Ligon. Thank you so much for spending the sweaty day with us in your beautiful city.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Mister Rogers
I'm obsessing about Mr. Rogers this morning. What a fantastic fella.
"Each one of us can be used in perfectly wonderful ways."
"The best teacher in the world is somebody who loves what he or she does and just loves it in front of you."
"The best thing you can do for anybody is offer one more honest adult in their lives."
"We're all fancy on the inside."
"Deep & simple are far more important than shallow & complicated."
"Each one of us can be used in perfectly wonderful ways."
"The best teacher in the world is somebody who loves what he or she does and just loves it in front of you."
"The best thing you can do for anybody is offer one more honest adult in their lives."
"We're all fancy on the inside."
"Deep & simple are far more important than shallow & complicated."
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Tank Farm Road (Take One)
I’m trying to work through making this experience into a short story, so this is going to be draft one...a partial draft. It is actually a bit of a brainstorm that needs to be deposited somewhere to collect interest and grow. I might post it multiple times with various changes, as I find that I only write well if I know there is a possibility of someone reading it.
This is an absolutely true story. Any similarity to actual people alive or dead is intended and desired. I haven’t ever written it down and don’t actually tell it to many people, but it has and continues to shape my life.
Tank Farm Road
I was playing in the back yard when I heard the sirens. They were obviously coming from somewhere on Princeton Road or near Calumet Refinery. I didn’t think anything of them. I kept playing. I don’t know what kind of playing I was doing-- I just know that’s what I was doing. The phone rang from inside the house; shortly after my mom came outside and told me to come in. She called my sister and told her to come home from her boyfriend’s house immediately. She needed us there, with her. We locked the doors to be safe. The woods held danger. The woods held our home.
We weren’t as rich as some people, but we had more money than a lot of people. Upper middle class would probably be the best way to describe my family. We had an average sized home, multiple cars, good clothes, and help. Our help was in the form of a few different permanent people and a variety of transient souls who needed a little money here and there. Helen was our help, our maid. She was not of the Alice variety, nor did she have a bedroom off our laundry room. Helen came once a week and stayed all day. My parents paid her twenty-five dollars a week to make our lives easier. They could have afforded more, and Helen could have used more. Neither party involved felt it necessary to change the status quo.
I loved when Helen would come. We prepared for Helen by picking up our rooms so that she could dust, vacuum, sweep, mop, and do any other chore that was necessary to keep our house clean. I liked the way she called me Mistuh Jason and my sister Miss Jennifer. I never thought anything of it. It was just was she called us. She was the only person that wasn’t a blood relative who ever looked after me. Her job wasn’t to babysit me, but my sister and I did get to stay at home with Helen when she was at our house. She loved us and we loved her.
Helen was terrified of snakes and was a good Christian woman. She had false teeth but never wore them to our house. She always wore a wig, but I didn’t know about it until later. I always thought her hair was real. Her skin was dark brown and smooth. Her age was a mystery, and she liked to keep it that way. She went about the day doing her job at a steady pace. I went about the day trying to find things that looked like snakes that I could hide in various places. The goal was to scare Helen. I didn’t do it out of meanness, as my family enjoys picking. It’s how you know you’re part of us. You get picked on. Being the baby, I learned the ins and outs of picking and take great pride in my ability to do so. Helen was the recipient of my picking in the form of pieces of old rope hidden in the laundry basket, a section of water hose curling out from under the stove, or an actual rubber snake tucked under my pillow. I would place the serpentine element in the desired location and wait. Sometimes I would have to wait for several minutes, even waiting so long that I would forget and go on to something else. Being in the immediate vicinity of the prank was desired but not necessary because Helen was terrified of snakes. She would scream. She would cuss. She had a script.
“Oh, shit! Ooooooh, Mistuh Jason you done made me cuss. You knows I’s afraid uh snakes.” She would let out a squeal and make me come remove the offending article. I generally only scared her once per visit, but it was always a good one.
...more to come
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A Place to Call Home
I'm an animal lover. While sitting on the pot reading a little David Sedaris, I loved the way he described his sister as the type of person who would see a terrible car accident and first hope they didn't have a dog in the back seat. Screw the people.
I'm not quite that bad, but I do find myself rooting for the animals more than the people in life. I can watch tv and movie people die from every horrible disease known to man and hardly shed a tear, but I try to avoid watching movies where the dog dies. I don't even mind viewing the body at funerals. Truth be known, I find bodies in caskets somewhat fascinating and can stare for a bit longer than your normal person. It didn't even bother me so much as a child. This is not a blog post about death or funerals or the fact that I find the clothing choices of the deceased and the eternal makeup applied to their skin intriguing. This is about my stray cat, Miss Kitty.
I'm sure you think the name Miss Kitty is stupid, but I never intended on naming her. She was not to be a possession. "Well, Hi, Miss Kitty!" the first few random times she showed up on my porch gradually morphed into the name on her imaginary birth certificate in my head. While I do not own her, she is mine. Well, I am hers. I'm the only human who scratches her ears, pets her back, and provides her with food and water. I didn't go to PetSmart and pick her out but was, instead, chosen by her. Yeah, maybe she only chose me because I'm the kind of person who is saddened more by my relative's chihuahuas who died when her house burned down than I was when my piano teacher's sister died in her house fire. I'm on the side of the animals. Actually, it probably was the fact that I shared some of my indoor cat, Ollie's, food with her. It has nearly been a year since I first fed her. She used to show up every couple of days, might not see her for a week at a time. Now, though, she is waiting on my front step every afternoon. She waits for my voice, my touch, yes, my food. I look for her to be there. She needs me and I need her.
My house has windows across the front, so I have a view of the street and the lives of everyone who fits in the 15 foot wide expanse of disclosure those windows provide. Just a few moments ago I noticed Miss Kitty walking across the street. No rules or boundaries for her. She was going to check out a car that had pulled in the driveway over there. The owner of the car went inside and came back to the car. Miss Kitty walked away and began to spray her mark on one of the bushes by the lady's driveway. As soon as the car started Miss Kitty bolted across the street back to my driveway. Back to her home. Back to her safe place. Back to where she has chosen to be.
I'm not quite that bad, but I do find myself rooting for the animals more than the people in life. I can watch tv and movie people die from every horrible disease known to man and hardly shed a tear, but I try to avoid watching movies where the dog dies. I don't even mind viewing the body at funerals. Truth be known, I find bodies in caskets somewhat fascinating and can stare for a bit longer than your normal person. It didn't even bother me so much as a child. This is not a blog post about death or funerals or the fact that I find the clothing choices of the deceased and the eternal makeup applied to their skin intriguing. This is about my stray cat, Miss Kitty.
I'm sure you think the name Miss Kitty is stupid, but I never intended on naming her. She was not to be a possession. "Well, Hi, Miss Kitty!" the first few random times she showed up on my porch gradually morphed into the name on her imaginary birth certificate in my head. While I do not own her, she is mine. Well, I am hers. I'm the only human who scratches her ears, pets her back, and provides her with food and water. I didn't go to PetSmart and pick her out but was, instead, chosen by her. Yeah, maybe she only chose me because I'm the kind of person who is saddened more by my relative's chihuahuas who died when her house burned down than I was when my piano teacher's sister died in her house fire. I'm on the side of the animals. Actually, it probably was the fact that I shared some of my indoor cat, Ollie's, food with her. It has nearly been a year since I first fed her. She used to show up every couple of days, might not see her for a week at a time. Now, though, she is waiting on my front step every afternoon. She waits for my voice, my touch, yes, my food. I look for her to be there. She needs me and I need her.
My house has windows across the front, so I have a view of the street and the lives of everyone who fits in the 15 foot wide expanse of disclosure those windows provide. Just a few moments ago I noticed Miss Kitty walking across the street. No rules or boundaries for her. She was going to check out a car that had pulled in the driveway over there. The owner of the car went inside and came back to the car. Miss Kitty walked away and began to spray her mark on one of the bushes by the lady's driveway. As soon as the car started Miss Kitty bolted across the street back to my driveway. Back to her home. Back to her safe place. Back to where she has chosen to be.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Junior High School Never Ends
Here's a haiku I thought of while watching HBO.
Smiles inside each time
Watching cable movie start
N for nudity
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Try as You May, I Will Not Give Up
I'm currently on hold with customer service for Overnightprints.com and truly believe they want me to hang up the phone and not bother to have the issues with my order corrected. Why? Because they are playing some obnoxious tune that is the most popular track on Spanish Sounds by The Super Mario Brothers. They are also playing it at a volume that would only be appropriate for Helen Keller; in fact, Helen Keller must work there and must have been responsible for filling my order, an order that included 8,000 envelopes that were the wrong size. Yep, some warehouse d-bag packed 16 boxes of notecards and envelopes with 8-tuh-thousand envelopes that are too big for the notecards. I'm sitting on hold so Anna can get clearance to overnight the envelopes to me, as I need the sets of notecards to go out on Monday and have students ready to pack 1,000 notecard boxes tomorrow. I called and spoke to Wanette yesterday, and she didn't know what size the envelopes should be and told me to call back after my entire order came in. I spoke to Nevin today, and he told me the same...but actually took the time to find out the size of the envelopes I should be expecting. Anna has kept me on hold...wait.....
(listening to Anna tell me about how busy her supervisor is and that she can't make a decision....call you later...email the decision...yada yada yada...hang up)
So, I'm stuck waiting again.
I hate waiting. I hate people who wait uneccessarily (I can't spell that word and refuse to look it up at the moment, so please correct me in a comment if it bothers you to no end). There are parents at my school who get in the carpool line as early as 1:30...some used to be in line at 12:45, when carpool doesn't let out until 2:45pm. They are intent on not getting stuck waiting in the carpool line, so they wait at the front (or in 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or 5th place) for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. I want to walk down the line and hit these stupid people in the head with a golf club. Carpool line starts at 2:45pm and ends at 3:00pm...sometimes before. Why in baby Jesus' name would you want to sit in a hot (or cold) car that long when you could come get your kid at 3:00 and not even have to wait in line. Stupid....just like Helen Wanettte Nevin Anna Keller who is responsible for making me wait and wait and wait...
(listening to Anna tell me about how busy her supervisor is and that she can't make a decision....call you later...email the decision...yada yada yada...hang up)
So, I'm stuck waiting again.
I hate waiting. I hate people who wait uneccessarily (I can't spell that word and refuse to look it up at the moment, so please correct me in a comment if it bothers you to no end). There are parents at my school who get in the carpool line as early as 1:30...some used to be in line at 12:45, when carpool doesn't let out until 2:45pm. They are intent on not getting stuck waiting in the carpool line, so they wait at the front (or in 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or 5th place) for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. I want to walk down the line and hit these stupid people in the head with a golf club. Carpool line starts at 2:45pm and ends at 3:00pm...sometimes before. Why in baby Jesus' name would you want to sit in a hot (or cold) car that long when you could come get your kid at 3:00 and not even have to wait in line. Stupid....just like Helen Wanettte Nevin Anna Keller who is responsible for making me wait and wait and wait...
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hannah's Comin' to Town
So in a couple weeks I will be in New Orleans. That means I'll be only 3.5 hours away from you, Miss Lucy. I left my boyfriend Adrian in Korea, and we broke up and all because long distance is stupid, but we can't seem to properly separate. So he booked a flight to come and stay with me in New Orleans for the second half of February. I'm saying all this to say that I want to bring him to Pineville at some point when he's here, and I want him to meet you and hang at the pub with us. I'm real sweet on him.
I also want to meet this fella you're marrying and generally hug you too much in public while overindulging in vodka tonics. You haven't like, settled down and stopped going to the pub, have you?
I also want to meet this fella you're marrying and generally hug you too much in public while overindulging in vodka tonics. You haven't like, settled down and stopped going to the pub, have you?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Finishing a Book
I love to read books, but I find myself taking forever to finish them. I get distracted by other books while reading and end up having three or four books going at the same time; therefore, I am rarely giving my full attention to a particular book. It usually takes getting through two-thirds of a book before it gets to take center stage and be finished.
I just finished a book. I wish I could say I loved it, but I can't. I can't say I didn't like it either; I also can't say it wasn't a good book. Amy Tan is hard for me to read, as she takes a very Asiany, long time to get to the little nuggets of wisdom that pepper the pages of her stories. The book I just finished is Saving Fish from Drowning. It was on the dollar rack at Books-a-Million a few months ago and pulled me in with this quote that was written on the page before the title page. Does anyone know what that is called? I just googled it and found more information than I could take in, so that is a mystery I will solve at a later date. Go to this link to read some fascinating information about books, though: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book.
Ah, back to the quote:
"A pious man explained to his followers: 'It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fishes. I place the fishes on the bank, where they flop and twirl. "Don't be scared, " I tell those fishes. "I am saving you from downing." Soon enough, the fishes grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fishes expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fishes to the market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I receive, I buy more nets so I can save more fishes."
-Anonymous
I don't know who this Mr. Anonymous (or Ms. Anonymous, or Dr. Anonymous, or Terry Anonymous...) is, but he sure does say some great things. I wish I knew someone who has read this book and wants to talk about it.
Anyway, I thought is was an appropriate follow-up to Lucy's swimming escapades. No, I will not buy you a swimsuit, but thanks for offering all of us the chance to make you more streamlined.
I just finished a book. I wish I could say I loved it, but I can't. I can't say I didn't like it either; I also can't say it wasn't a good book. Amy Tan is hard for me to read, as she takes a very Asiany, long time to get to the little nuggets of wisdom that pepper the pages of her stories. The book I just finished is Saving Fish from Drowning. It was on the dollar rack at Books-a-Million a few months ago and pulled me in with this quote that was written on the page before the title page. Does anyone know what that is called? I just googled it and found more information than I could take in, so that is a mystery I will solve at a later date. Go to this link to read some fascinating information about books, though: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book.
Ah, back to the quote:
"A pious man explained to his followers: 'It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fishes. I place the fishes on the bank, where they flop and twirl. "Don't be scared, " I tell those fishes. "I am saving you from downing." Soon enough, the fishes grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fishes expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fishes to the market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I receive, I buy more nets so I can save more fishes."
-Anonymous
I don't know who this Mr. Anonymous (or Ms. Anonymous, or Dr. Anonymous, or Terry Anonymous...) is, but he sure does say some great things. I wish I knew someone who has read this book and wants to talk about it.
Anyway, I thought is was an appropriate follow-up to Lucy's swimming escapades. No, I will not buy you a swimsuit, but thanks for offering all of us the chance to make you more streamlined.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Aunt Alma
My mom sent me this last week. I like it:
I found this picture of Aunt Alma [the one in the blue dress]. I tagged her as you. My daddy and Alma were so very close and visited every week. We played dominoes with them and she always had her knitting/crochet with her. She also kept a chihuahua in the house. I remember her place smelling like dog. when our dogs get to smelling like dogs, it reminds me of visits to Aunt Alma's. That's funny isn't it. My momma used to cut her hair all the time. I swear you are mix of my mom and Aunt Alma. You even look like her a bit in the face. Check it out. I love you.....
I found this picture of Aunt Alma [the one in the blue dress]. I tagged her as you. My daddy and Alma were so very close and visited every week. We played dominoes with them and she always had her knitting/crochet with her. She also kept a chihuahua in the house. I remember her place smelling like dog. when our dogs get to smelling like dogs, it reminds me of visits to Aunt Alma's. That's funny isn't it. My momma used to cut her hair all the time. I swear you are mix of my mom and Aunt Alma. You even look like her a bit in the face. Check it out. I love you.....
mom
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Check, Check
That last entry from was a little sloppy. I was experimenting with submitting entries via email. I'll go back and fix it soon.
I did go swimming yesterday and I did not drop my goggles at the 12 foot mark. But I barely lasted 15 minutes. At least I'm trying, right?
Stay tuned for fun facts about George Washington and the Freemasons, bullet-point style. (If that's not gonna keep you on the edge of your seat, I don't know what will.)
Where are my other bloggers? Bring it on, please.
(I attached a jpg to this email to see if the blog would load it...)
I did go swimming yesterday and I did not drop my goggles at the 12 foot mark. But I barely lasted 15 minutes. At least I'm trying, right?
Stay tuned for fun facts about George Washington and the Freemasons, bullet-point style. (If that's not gonna keep you on the edge of your seat, I don't know what will.)
Where are my other bloggers? Bring it on, please.
(I attached a jpg to this email to see if the blog would load it...)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Tricky
I'm going swimming today after work. Last Tuesday I swam for the first time in over a year and the first thing I did was drop my goggles at the 12 foot mark. Spent 15 minutes wrestling with a 13 foot pole trying to get the suckers out. It was quite a scene. So today will be my second time to go. I will not drop my goggles this time. It's also time for a new bathing suit, so if you'd like to get me one, here's what I want. Size 18, please. I'm a biggun.
Last year, I discovered that I don't really know how to swim properly. I always feel so silly next to people who were on the swim team in high school. I don't know how to breathe properly or move through the water without great bit splashes. It's embarrassing. But I press on. So in preparing for this afternoon's swim, I had a lesson with Jimmy.
Last year, I discovered that I don't really know how to swim properly. I always feel so silly next to people who were on the swim team in high school. I don't know how to breathe properly or move through the water without great bit splashes. It's embarrassing. But I press on. So in preparing for this afternoon's swim, I had a lesson with Jimmy.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Teen Wolf Chicken Pot Pie
You know that dinner I was bragging about earlier?
See how this is like Facebook?
This is what we're watching:
See how this is like Facebook?
Maw Maw
The house I live in was my grandmother's. I'm starting to do things that my grandmother did.
We play board games around the dining room table with our friends. I remember my grandparents playing Aggravation with my great aunt & uncle when I was a kid. We still have the game they played but we haven't cracked it out yet. We will.
When I first moved in, I listened to old country music obsessively. After a little research, I found out that my grandma loved country music. But I don't know how much truth there is to that as all I ever heard her humming/singing was hymns...which was nice.
Tonight, I was sitting on the back porch when my parents got home and they backed into their carport. I thought there was a chance that they went to town and bought a big new fancy television to go with their brand new shiny Blu-ray player. So I called.
Me: I saw you backed into your carport.
We play board games around the dining room table with our friends. I remember my grandparents playing Aggravation with my great aunt & uncle when I was a kid. We still have the game they played but we haven't cracked it out yet. We will.
When I first moved in, I listened to old country music obsessively. After a little research, I found out that my grandma loved country music. But I don't know how much truth there is to that as all I ever heard her humming/singing was hymns...which was nice.
Tonight, I was sitting on the back porch when my parents got home and they backed into their carport. I thought there was a chance that they went to town and bought a big new fancy television to go with their brand new shiny Blu-ray player. So I called.
Me: I saw you backed into your carport.
Mom: You sound just like Maw Maw.
The More You Know
I know a lot of things. Mostly because I sit in a cubicle all day everyday with Wikipedia as my oyster. Here's a few nuggets for today. Maybe I've shared some of these things with you before but I think those of you who know me enjoy it when I repeat myself. (That's some Facebook-style arrogance, right there.)
Did you know that Rasputin's penis allegedly had magical powers and may possibly be stored in a jar of formaldehyde somewhere? There used to be a Wikipedia page about his penis, but in searching for it right now, I've found that it must have been removed. Never fear, curious readers! Here's a lovely shot of it. There's one other photo floating around online that shows things a little more clearly, but let's be honest. Do I really need to add another photo of R's schlong?
Did you know that Rasputin's penis allegedly had magical powers and may possibly be stored in a jar of formaldehyde somewhere? There used to be a Wikipedia page about his penis, but in searching for it right now, I've found that it must have been removed. Never fear, curious readers! Here's a lovely shot of it. There's one other photo floating around online that shows things a little more clearly, but let's be honest. Do I really need to add another photo of R's schlong?
Did you know that Layne Staley's body only weighed 86 pounds when it was discovered nearly two weeks after his death. 86 POUNDS! "The coroner estimated that Staley died on April 5, 2002, which is the same presumed date that fellow Seattle musician Kurt Cobain died in 1994," says the ever-reliable Wikipedia article. Do you even know who Layne Staley is? I didn't before I met Matt.
Did you know the Billie Holiday had a pretty serious alcohol and drug abuse problem which probably contributed greatly to her distinct voice and early death at age 44? She was even arrested in the hospital room where she was on her death bed for possession of narcotics. Heroin was Lady Day's drug of choice. When none was available, she hit the hooch.
Did you know that Nat King Cole was a heavy smoker? He smoked Kools, up to three packs a day, believing that smoking made his voice lower and richer. He died from lung cancer when he was only 45.
I know that you're dying to know more about things I've read on the internet. But I'm veering to the musical direction after starting with Rasputin's junk so I'm gonna go ahead and stop now so things stay random. You're welcome.
Ding Dong Ding
Matt and I have big plans of doing absolutely nothing tonight. "Absolutely nothing" includes the following things:
- cooking something delicious and posting pictures of it here
- knitting to get a few late Christmas presents finished
- gluing flowers together
- possibly playing Clue
- laundry
Matt did a beautiful job. He sprinkled brown sugar on the bacon while it was frying...we'll never cook bacon without it again. I almost cried. Really. I'm sure you'll get to see pictures of whatever fabulous thing we make tonight.
On a different note, here's a nice song I just ran across for the wedding reception (see "Hallelujah!" entry):
buy one get one free
This makes me happy...almost gettin' a chub kinda happy. You could create a blog on nearly any blogging site and I would be able to log in with my username and password because I have started blogs on all of them. I love to start things, but finishing is just too much for me. You can critique a finished product-- in the works, though...you can just shut the hell up 'cause I'm not finished.
I'm all about jumping on a bandwagon. Could someone out there actually start a bandwagon for me to jump on? The only mobile instruments I can play are the dulcimer and the radio. I doubt the dulcimer would be heard over the rolling wheels of the bandwagon and don't really like the radio, so maybe i could just ride along and fix drinks.
I hate R&B or anything that sounds like african-american baby-making music. I'm not racist. I'm good with most everyone....BTW, I took a detour to R&B because I'm watching some kind of hot bodies videos countdown on Fuse and am wondering why am I being forced to look at this black man's sweaty belly button, when all I really wanted was about 30 minutes of Justin Timberlake and Enrique Iglesias. Apparently the planners of the show didn't get my post-it note.
Thank you for starting this blog, Lucy. I want to work on flowers but totally left your house without the supplies. I think I underestimated the effects of the Hydrocodone and ridiculously big, lovely glasses of box wine. Who am I kidding? I have the short term memory of a tsetse fly. It had nothing to do with hydrocodo-box-o-vino-phoria. It's just fun to blame.
so, here is the video I was talking about. It is by D'Angelo. That is pronounced D-comma-to-tha-top-angelo. Thanks for playing.
I'm all about jumping on a bandwagon. Could someone out there actually start a bandwagon for me to jump on? The only mobile instruments I can play are the dulcimer and the radio. I doubt the dulcimer would be heard over the rolling wheels of the bandwagon and don't really like the radio, so maybe i could just ride along and fix drinks.
I hate R&B or anything that sounds like african-american baby-making music. I'm not racist. I'm good with most everyone....BTW, I took a detour to R&B because I'm watching some kind of hot bodies videos countdown on Fuse and am wondering why am I being forced to look at this black man's sweaty belly button, when all I really wanted was about 30 minutes of Justin Timberlake and Enrique Iglesias. Apparently the planners of the show didn't get my post-it note.
Thank you for starting this blog, Lucy. I want to work on flowers but totally left your house without the supplies. I think I underestimated the effects of the Hydrocodone and ridiculously big, lovely glasses of box wine. Who am I kidding? I have the short term memory of a tsetse fly. It had nothing to do with hydrocodo-box-o-vino-phoria. It's just fun to blame.
so, here is the video I was talking about. It is by D'Angelo. That is pronounced D-comma-to-tha-top-angelo. Thanks for playing.
Hallelujah!
I'd like to give you all some homework. You saw that we're getting married, right (not me and you, but me and Matt Martin)? Not only do we need people to fold flowers, we need some suggestions.
The reception for our wedding will not have a DJ as I have more music than most DJs do. After a quick surf through my favorite things, I've decided to play mostly music from 1930-1960 at the reception. I'd like to focus on the Ella Fitzgerald-Louis Armstrong-Duke Ellington-Billie Holiday sound (that means Harry Connick, Jr. will slide in perfectly).
I have a small collection of these songs, but most of them are main stream and over-played. I will not be playing "What A Wonderful World" but will play "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" (both Satch). So your assignment is to do some research and expose us to some fun old songs. These songs are labeled with many genre's: Big Band, Jazz, Swing, Standards, Easy Listening, etc. But I've found that my Ella Fitzgerald station on Pandora to be right on the money. So your mission if you choose to accept it: Find us some songs! Artist & Song Title, please.
The reception for our wedding will not have a DJ as I have more music than most DJs do. After a quick surf through my favorite things, I've decided to play mostly music from 1930-1960 at the reception. I'd like to focus on the Ella Fitzgerald-Louis Armstrong-Duke Ellington-Billie Holiday sound (that means Harry Connick, Jr. will slide in perfectly).
I have a small collection of these songs, but most of them are main stream and over-played. I will not be playing "What A Wonderful World" but will play "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" (both Satch). So your assignment is to do some research and expose us to some fun old songs. These songs are labeled with many genre's: Big Band, Jazz, Swing, Standards, Easy Listening, etc. But I've found that my Ella Fitzgerald station on Pandora to be right on the money. So your mission if you choose to accept it: Find us some songs! Artist & Song Title, please.
Ridiculous
Can I substitute this blog for Facebook activity?
I've been on a Facebook strike for about 2 months now. I have no desire to log in at all. But I do think of things that I want to post. I have a very loud inner dialogue that had a legible voice on Facebook. But I don't like what Facebook has turned into for me...so can't I just slap up the things I want in a blog and call it done? Only people who are interested will see. I won't show up in someone's feed. You won't see that I'm playing Mafia Wars.
It's a common idea that all this "social networking" is nothing more than an exercise in ego. I believe that. Why would you want to know what I had for lunch and how good it looked? You don't. But I think that my daily mundane activities are so interesting to you that I should let you know every time I have a cup of coffee.
By the way, I'm drinking coffee right now. See? Here's a picture of my coffee. You like that, don't you?
Julie Landry Poole sent me that coffee mug in a care package one year and if this were Facebook, I'd tag her.
We're gonna take web-based ego-stroking to a whole new level, ladies and gentlemen. You'll get to hear all about how fabulous my life is and you will want to be me. OR I will complain and bitch about a new thing every day and you will be glad that you're nothing like me. Either way, it's all about me and what's going on with me. I know you're interested.
I've added other contributors to this blog, so maybe it won't just be about me. Maybe you'll get insights into all the mundane details of my friends lives as well!!
Stay tuned for pictures and detailed ramblings about the exciting dinner Sarah is cooking tomorrow night for our viewings of Cinderella II & III...
Raccoon!
With the help of Miss Halbert, the blog has been renamed!
www.raccoonwithaspoon.com
Now I just need to get to writing...
And now for the random Saturday morning kid in you:
www.raccoonwithaspoon.com
Now I just need to get to writing...
And now for the random Saturday morning kid in you:
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Attempted Triumphant Return
I'm constantly having ideas for a new blog which, I realize, is a little lame seeing as how I can't follow through with much. And if I do follow through, I don't stick to it very long. I wanted to start a restaurant tour of Alexandria, to become some sort of vigilante critic but that hasn't panned out as I am lazy and poor.
I want to write a blog about hosting parties (a la Amy Sedaris' "I Like You"), but the idea was quickly dismissed because I knew I would forget about it.
I got the bright idea that I wanted buy a url and manage it like a blog and a photo gallery so it would be more accessible, but that cost around $50 for two years and quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
Speaking of commitment, for those of you who don't know...I'm getting married! I'm marrying Mr. Matt Martin on October 1, 2011 in Alexandria. We're very excited and doing lots of planning.
We're making origami flowers for the whole shindig (table decorations, bouquets, hanging from the ceiling, etc.) If you'd like to get in on this folding and gluing action, let me know. As of now, the origami army is only two strong (Sarah Halbert and me) but I'd like to get more people on board. However, I'm having a hard time keeping up with Sarah's mad folding skills. But still, recruits are needed. Please apply at lucinda.parker@gmail.com. Ha.
So this blog needs to be renamed. No more internet dating, obviously. And there's not really a theme. When I get the bright idea that I want to start a blog about something, I'll write an entry or two about that thing (or as many as I can hammer out) and then move on to my next fascination. Any suggestions on a new name?
PS: The second to last paragraph in the entry "Next" is about Matt, my fella. Neat, huh?
PS: The second to last paragraph in the entry "Next" is about Matt, my fella. Neat, huh?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)