Archives for September 2006

In Which I Dot The I’s

1. The Sassy Pants:

Because I AM ALL ABOUT THE BLOGGY SACRIFICE, people, I snapped a picture at an incredibly awkward angle right before choir practice the other night, even though others must have thought me to be slightly insane. What with me taking a picture of my pants leg and all.

And seriously: aren’t they sassy?

2. The Wri- Thing: Yeah, you know, whatever. Emailed one person with “connections.” Doubted myself seven hundred and sixty one times. Regretted emailing connected person and felt very presumptuous. Received two firm but loving and encouraging “talking-tos” from Daph and Laura re: wri- confidence. Vowed to be more proactive. Realized wri- confidence is a helpful prerequisite for “proactivity.” Praying about that. A lot.

Also: overusing “quotations.” “A lot.”

3. I’ve gotten several sweet emails over the last month from people asking if I mind if they plan some sort of “tour” for their blog. I think people probably don’t want to use the tour idea without my permission, which is really kind and thoughtful but TOTALLY unnecessary.

So let me just say this: if you want to plan a Tour of Faucets, a Tour of Master Bathrooms With Double Sinks, a Tour of Basements, whatever – HAVE AT IT. :-) Seriously. I would’ve never done Tour of Homes if Shannon and Carol hadn’t suggested it to me, so feel free to TOUR IT UP on your own blogs if you want.

Which reminds me: I’m waivering about doing the Christmas Tour of Homes, because I think that people could probably use a break from Bloggity Extravaganzas that involve me (like I told Chilihead: since I’m sort of sick of me, I can’t imagine that everyone else isn’t, too). I’ll try to decide something for sure in the next few weeks. I guess I’m sort of wondering if it wouldn’t be one more obligation for people during an already busy time of year? I’d love your feedback….

4. D’s going out of town in a couple of weeks. I’m relaying this information because a) I want prowlers to have plenty of advance notice and b) I want to make an announcement.

So here it is: I’m going to TRY to watch this thing they call “Grey’s Anatomy” while he’s gone. Yep, I’m gonna jump right up on the bandwagon even though it goes against my longstanding no-bandwagon-jumping TV watching principle. HAPPY, DAPHNE AND ADDIE?

5. And in the completely unrelated department (not that this post is the model of narrative coherence or anything): is it possible to freeze salsa? If so, in what kind of container?

Thank you for your time. Have a lovely weekend.

An Eye-Opener Is What It Is

So I got home from a little Mama-party tonight (it was WILD, I tell you – we ooh’d and aah’d over cooking utensils and then drank way too much ginger ale with raspberries while we perused catalogs with even more cooking utensils – WILD!) and visited with the family and got Alex tucked into bed and then came downstairs to check Bloglines.

And there were maybe two new posts as opposed to the normal eleventy hundred new posts.

And I thought, well, um, that’s strange.

But then I remembered: Grey’s Anatomy. Season premiere.

Now I don’t watch the show [she says, ducking for cover], but I have a newfound appreciation for it because Cutie McPretty or Dr. McDreamy or whatever his name is can flat shut down blogland for a couple of hours. THAT’S impressive. Really. I believe I have badly underestimated the loyalty and fervor that you people have for this seemingly-addictive television program that I have never seen.

So I hope you enjoyed it.

In other television news, D and I enjoyed “The Office” season premiere tonight. At least I did until I got on the phone with Merritt and quit watching. But then she made me laugh so hard that I wet my pants. And I enjoyed that, too (the laughing. not so much the other).

See y’all tomorrow.

The Irony, It Astounds Me

As a child, I would come thisclose to rolling my eyes whenever my daddy turned the radio dial to the country station that had a Southern Gospel Hour on Sunday mornings.

WHO LISTENS TO THIS STUFF, I wondered.

Well, as it turns out: me.

And as an adult, I can’t hear a Southern gospel song without singing along – and as D and Sister will attest, whether or not I know the words is of very little consequence. I will just hum harmony if need be. Or, in some cases, “harmony,” because I tend to be a smidge off-key.

These days poor Alex is the one subjected to the Southern Gospel Hour on Sunday mornings, and – I KID YOU NOT – he puts those little gospel-esque harmonic tags at the end of everything he sings (“ALLLL THROUGH THE TOOOOOOOOOO-OWN” or, better yet, “Next time won’t you sing with SIIIIIING WIIIIIIIIIITH MEEEEEEEEEEEEE”).

Clearly, I have ruined him.

So anyway, it’s a gorgeous day and God is good and I just felt like hearing a little Southern gospel music this morning. Thought I’d share.

Happy Thursday!

On The Cutting Edge, As Always

Today I put on some Sassy Pants that I got a couple of years ago. I had forgotten about them until I cleaned out my closet recently and rediscovered them, and oh, I could not wait until the first cool breeze hit this part of the country so that I could don said pants and be funky fresh for fall.

Now when I initially got the pants, they fit okay, but I knew they’d fit better if I lost about ten pounds. I planned to get right on that weight loss project and clearly could lose ten pounds in the span of mere days if I just set my mind to it.

Clearly.

Ahem.

A-HEM.

And two years later, minus approximately zero extra poundage, I found that I could not resist the siren call of the Sassy Pants when I got dressed today. The fact that they only fit okay seemed perfectly acceptable in light of the Sheer Cuteness Factor, a factor that outweighs just about any element in the fashion equation, with the exception of uncomfortable shoes, which I can’t even start talking about now or we’ll be here until next Tuesday.

Because here’s how cute the pants are: they have this wild, colorful print on the front of the legs, and the back of the legs is solid brown, except for the wild print on the back pockets. And I will NOT be showing you a picture the back pockets, lest you run screaming from the computer at the sight of my ample posterior (frankly, it would be too much for any individual to bear, and I’m just not putting you through that because I care deeply about you and your mental well-being).

Anyway, the point (OH, there’s a POINT?) is that Sassy Pants are adorable and comfortable. When I’m standing up.

But when I sit down? After about five minutes? They get a little, um, restrictive. I’ve found myself saying “WHEW” a whole lot today, then shifting around, trying to find a more comfortable sitting position. I’ve also found myself standing for long periods of time for no good reason other than to keep my blood circulating properly (according to the “experts,” “circulation” is a fairly critical component in order to “breathe” and “live,” but I beg to differ since I’ve spent a good portion of the day with Considerable Numbness in the Waistband Area).

However, I’m nothing if not determined, and I am resolved to finish my daily obligations (yes, even choir practice) in the Sassy Pants.

Which is becoming increasingly problematic since I am, at this very moment, sitting and typing this post with the waistband of my Sassy Pants rolled down past my stomach.

Oh yes MA’AM.

LOOKING GOOD!

Think they’ll mind at choir?

I think it could be a Hot Trend for fall, don’t you?

Look! Another Tour!

Lauren at Created for HIS Glory is hosting a very special bloggy tour on October 1st.

You can read all the details here.

Mark your calendars!

What About Prom, Blane? WHAT ABOUT PROM?

A few days ago I saw some girls who were obviously in the middle of a terribly important discussion. They were about fourteen, totally into their conversation except for the occasional necessity of reading a text message or replying to one. I couldn’t help but think about when I was their age, and really, I shudder a little bit when I remember the sheer awkwardness that was the hallmark of my early teenage years. The braces, the frizzy hair, the utter lack of confidence around those alien creatures called boys – just about all of it makes me cringe.

Of course, like so many teenage girls, I thought that I knew it all, thought that I was covered in coolness, but in retrospect I was completely naïve and overly earnest and annoyingly self-absorbed. Actually, unbeknownst to me, I was a nerdy version of a drama queen: even though I was well-aware of all the gossip and “scandal” at our junior high, I only stayed involved in that stuff for about five minutes before I retreated into my Piles Of Books. Honestly, who needed junior high drama when the sophisticated, self-assured girls in the Sweet Valley High novels were dealing with, like, MA-JOR stuff?

I mean, GAH!

I can’t tell you how many 1980-something nights I sat in my bedroom with my hair in sponge curlers, incessantly wiping my face with a cotton ball soaked in Sea Breeze, talking on my yellow Princess-style push-button phone while adjusting the rubber bands on my braces, putting one cassette after another into my jam box, thinking that clearly no one had ever understood The Plight Of The Teenage Heart better than Mr. Phil Collins. I mean, who doesn’t remember this classic?

“You called me from the room in your hotel
All full of romance for someone that you met
And telling me how sorry you were, leaving so soon
And that you miss me sometimes when you’re alone in your room
Do I feel lonely too?

You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
We can’t go on just holding on to time
Now that we’re living separate lives.”

Never you mind that I’d never had a boyfriend. I still knew deep in my heart of hearts the agony, the heart-wrenching grief of true love.

And I knew those things, of course, because of John Hughes movies.

In fact, reading those lyrics makes me want to watch “Night Tracks” on WTBS out of Atlanta and record all the best videos (Dexy’s Midnight Runners singing “Come On, Eileen,” anyone?) on a VCR with its remote attached by a wire.

While tinkering with MS-DOS until the amber letters on the monitor make my eyes cross.

While drinking Pepsi Free.