Happy New Year (almost)!

Here is a not-to-do list, via Kiddley, a site that makes me feel like I have way too much I ought to be doing...regardless, enjoy and use this as a guide to help you make your New Year's resolutions. Mine is not, sadly, to blog more. It was to give up trans fats a la New York City, but today I had the most delish fries at Cloos' Coney Island so I might give up all the other foods so as to enjoy the fries. I do that at Five Guys anyway - no meat, but an entire bag of peanut-y fried goodness.

So maybe I'll resolve to enjoy myself more. I've decided that I'm my favorite person and so why not spend a little more time together? I might just take myself out for some one-on-one time. Listen to my inner thoughts more. Get to know me that much better.

Either that or keep on not smoking.

TO LISTEN:

Many, many songs are traditional spirit-boosters in our household...the classic Wynton Marsalis Crescent City Christmas Card is an all-time favorite. We love anything jazzy pretty much, and have even embraced Diana Krall's seasonal recording. That isn't to say we don't explore indie rock Christmas...and this year there was nothing more fun than Sufjan Stevens' collection of the gifts he gave his friends over the years.
(full disclosure: I don't own it, but am kind of hoping I do by Tuesday afternoon.)

But if you are in the mood for something lighter, may I recommend the Justin Timberlake guest spot on SNL's newest digital short?
TURN THE VOLUME DOWN IF THE INLAWS ARE AROUND!

TO LAUGH:

My brother, who loves a little fart humour, sent me two funny links today. This is the easy way out, but I'm taking it: I think my twelve days of Christmas feature are going to amount to about six...but I will be back at it on the Eve or Day. And I'll go til the Epiphany. So we'll see. In the meantime:

Try a couple of holiday favorites on the fartsichord. You know you wanna. This was more fun than I thought it would be. I enjoyed typing in "mount reindeer" and "grab self".

Do you think this is for reals??? (via Trent)

TO DONATE:

This time of year is the hardest financially for many of us, but the more you give the more you'll feel better about the state of our sorry world. I promise. And, if you give now, you get the tax deduction for '06. That's why I love to just dole it out this week and next.

Online, you can visit fun, easy sites for the children to help start discussing philanthropy, including the Salvation Army's SnowDays site. To be honest, this could be a sham, but it is kind of fun. And don't forget to drop your change in the bucket on your way out of the Teeter.

Shaw University's jazzy Christmas tunes are a great cause. Visit their web site to listen and click on "pledge form" to donate.

We give to the church this time of year because that is how we were raised. Now that I work there a bit, I actually see the good that area churches really do. From hosting homeless families to paying electric bills for strangers to providing support for me and my rich white friends when life sucks....well, organized religion has its merits.

On a global scale, it is most glamourous (and holiday-appropriate) to go RED....I love all that stuff. Can't wait to see my sister-in-law's red iPod Mini.

Mostly, just look out for you and yours. Selflessness is not always fun, but it makes life better for all of us. So suck it up.

FOR THE SWEDES:

My husband is one quarter Chilean, making him dark, sexy, and full of machismo. Another quarter is South Georgian, making him a lover of collard greens and fried meats. Yet another quarter is midwestern, which is why I love him. And the final quarter is Swedish. The Swedes love them some Christmas. So in celebration of Jul, we'll go over some of the fun traditions of that cold and blustery? land. (Hell, I don't know the weather. I do know Hanna Andersson though.

First, you'll want to make a Santa Lucia crown and hat. Santa Lucia died on the 13th and folks celebrate this Italian saint by letting blonde-haired children walk around with candles in their hair. It's all very special.

Our Swedish relatives enjoy glogg, but not enough to actually drink it...maybe because they are too busy drinking coffee, which they do all day. Real Swedish coffee involves eggs, but I won't discuss that in case bad memories of the Great Salmonella Incident of ought 6 come up. The relatives love to push the lutfisk on you, no matter what time of year. I am sorry I never got to experience the evil fish crap on Christmas Eve, but I have had potato sausage and damn is it good.

I also lurve lingonberries, on everything, especially Swedish pancakes.

Finally, to finish out your Swedish holiday, I recommend you go to a Lutheran church and greet your people. Not a bad group of folk, Lutherans. Garrison is their poster child.

Ok, enough Swedish! I have to get on the ball. I've given you only four or five days of a Whilst Christmas...but there's more to come. Assuming I survive tonight's alcoholic onslaught.

TO EAT:

It wouldn't be Christmas without my tasty Whole Foods truffles, available in the preferable chocolate or the cappuccino flavors. About $4.99 a box at WF. Now they are making the truffled roasted walnuts too, but those have not stayed in the house long enough for me to form an opinion. Obviously SOMEONE likes them.

North Cackalacky represent! Don't let your holiday season slip by without the wholesome Salem goodness finding a place on your table.

My husband's favorite recipe involving the amazing Indian River grapefruit and oranges we get this time of year, thanks to the high school's fundraiser, is a red wine/dijon vinaigrette poured over blanched asparagus, orange or grapefruit sections, and avocado slices. So festive! From one of our many Nathalie Dupree cookbooks - she is Georgia's answer to Paula Deen. Oh wait, Paula Deen is from Georgia, too.

There is no better appetizer this time of year than Olive Balls. I can personally guarantee their success at your holiday event...especially if any member of this family is invited.

The other Whilst traditions at Christmas involve a fun coffee cake that my mother makes...but to get that recipe would mean she is dead and I just don't want that at this point. Of course we always indulge in the Georgia tasty Fresh Air barbecue treat (no web site for the Macon location) no matter where we are...turkey be damned! And I hate my friend Brooke for introducing me to the whole concept of sugared peanuts. WHY??? Why did you do it? My new morning meal is the evil peanuts, with a smattering of red and green M&Ms, and half a grapefruit. Breakfast of Champions.

We'll return to my Twelve Days Whilst Christmas Approaches feature, but I was interested to learn that Muhammed Yunus went to Oslo to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. SEE? I'm not just a Justin Timberlake-obsessed female with mommy blogging tendencies! Anyway, I've been reading an article on microfinance in the New Yorker. I've not finished the article, and I've been reading it for two weeks now, but I'm getting the idea. Provide monies to the poor, and in many cases (especially in Latin America) to women, and charge them interest and give a payment schedule, and entrepreneurship may win the day. The success stories in the article are modest, but they are successes nonetheless, and I hope to get to the end of the article with a better idea of a new kind of charity...a pro-commerce kind.

The magazine is in the bathroom...but now that the Prize has been awarded, I've decided to upgrade it to the bedside table.

How does a microcredit bank or loans to the very poor compare to the feel-good and splashy charity of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition"? And does Ebay really signal a chance for people the world over to finally trust one another and become players in the global economy on their own scale? Discuss amongst yourselves.

My family finds it hard to be trendsetters, but thus is the burden we bear. I hope they had a very nice time of it. We sure did.

TO VISIT:

Boylan Heights Arts Walk. Sadly, you missed it. By far, my favorite artwork was in Rebus Works, open year-round. So you are in luck.

Extreme Makeover Home Edition house in progress.
This is all very exciting. This is taking place three doors up from my husband's old apartment. And this freaks me the hell out. I'm sad they tore down a 1920s bungalow. I'm very very sad for the neighbors next door to the family who will have to see the awesome structure all the time. I'm heartbroken about the deli worker in the grocery store today who stopped one of the men in blue Extreme Makeover shirts and thanked him and told him it was her favorite show, etc. and that she hoped one day HER house was chosen.

So if it is your thing, go on by. The family is certainly deserving. (Along with the most of the rest of the neighborhood)

Governor's Mansion tours. Hours vary, though I think this week is the only open week. I can't find anything worthy on the web to direct you to, but if you live here go on by: the Carolina Hurricanes Christmas decorations shouldn't be missed!

TO WATCH:

Here is the best listing of the tv specials that I could find on quick notice. We missed Charlie Brown, but that is because they showed it in early June and we just weren't prepared. Sheesh. At least wait until December! I guess network can't compete with cable.

I'm not necessarily a big fan of the famous Christmas movies. I've never even seen "It's a Wonderful Life" all the way through. "Bad Santa" is up on my Netflix queue, though. A classic in the making?

If anything, I remember Christmas scenes in movies that aren't necessarily Christmas-y. Harry Potter always has something festive in his films. "Little Women" has a lovely Christmas moment. All the Austen films have some Michaelmas talk. There is the Christmas tension in movies like in "Ordinary People" and "About a Boy" and that thing with Sarah Jessica Parker that I saw last year...that looked funny and then Diane Keaton dies.

The big debate in my household is whether to let the children see "The Polar Express" or not...I've heard it can plant the seeds of doubt. And there is already a sprig growing here. We also are dubious about "The Nightmare Before Christmas". My son would love it, because he is just that sort of death-obsessed violent freako that Tim Burton would enjoy as a dinner guest. But my daughter is a sensitive flower...we'll just have to see.

One can hope. This guy is from Macon, GA so he really was dreaming.

And thus begins the 12 Days of My Kind of Christmas, or Jingle Belle, or A Concerted Effort to Keep Organized and Not Too Anxious This Here Holiday Season.

TO DRINK:

The Fresh Market's "Christmas Traditions" coffee is a favorite from way back. They call it "Christmas Blend" now, due to some trademark issue, but it still tastes the same. Even people who don't like flavoured coffees like this one. Even girls who gave up coffee because of salmonella poisoning and its ongoing health problems will be brewing some come December 1.

Whilst the Slate reviewer hates it, I still think Silk Nog is the bomb. I like making French toast with it, and I feel good about serving it to my family versus pouring up a glass of high fructose corn syrup + nutmeg. Available at local grocers.

I had this Prosecco with my Thanksgiving turkey, and think it will be just great with all the other holiday goodies too. Maybe too good to mix with POM.

And because I am now a tea snob, I have to give a shout-out to a tea that has been good to me even during the years I was strung out on coffee. I found this tea in England yea many years ago...but saw it just the other day at Southern Season and boy was that nostalgic and fun. The tea is called Spiced Christmas tea, and it is yummy and orangey and all things Brit.

(If you need a tea ball, consider the charming and locally produced tea stick).

My body failed me a bit this Thanksgiving...as it has many times before (see salmonella episode of summmer '06, and seizure disorder of the Furman U. years). I had cramps, a bad cold, and a thrown-out back all in one week. Surely some of it was due to the stress of traveling 8 hours to GA with the youngsters (though they were very easy), then 5 hours to the mountains with my mom (though she was pleasant company), and then 5 hours back after a few days with all the relatives (though the warm and stunning mountain setting offset most of the tension).

My mind didn't fail me. My new liquor and coffee-free self was not quite as anxiety-ridden. And I was able, with only one exception, to observe the family drama and not participate in it. One wonderful night I immersed myself in the attentions of my oldest friend and her gorgeous, enticing family, and after he arrived, in my husband's affections. I reveled in my not-empty bank account - a definite bonus from the stress of working outside the home. I thoroughly enjoyed a lovely prosecco that my buddy and I purchased at the mecca of foodie goods. I watched my children act lovingly and appropriately and I played games with them and talked to them about issues big and small. I slept in. Twice. And I didn't see all of it, but I got to watch the first half of "My Fair Lady", which is something I did on one memorable Thanksgiving. Together with my hubby, I re-read my wedding vows, which were spoken on the Saturday after Thanksgiving 14 years ago.

Now on to the holiday rush. I plan to give you, my adoring public, all kinds of holiday tips and festive Internet finds in between running the Christmas pageant and shopping and decorating. But I wanted to stop for a minute and remember Thanksgiving. I didn't fail to be thankful.

I never have gotten to attend my local Stitch n' Bitch group's meetings here in town, but I like their vibe and I certainly enjoy their free tips. Their new cause is aboycott of "Sew Fast Sew Easy". Seems like the knitting world is always full of angst...

That said, I made some headway today in my knitting. Didn't finish my daughter's halter top, which at this point is so big it could fit me and my "girls", if only they weren't really really droopy, like overripe eggplants or..ok, you get the picture. But I did look into my hostess gift idea for the holidays, and I bought mySELF some yarn, by God! I will make myself something for once. A light blue scarf - perhaps a small rib, extra long and cozy. Yay. Thrice yay.

I really tire of the phrase "not your father's" this or that. Or sometimes "not your grandfather's" or "not your mother's". It is over people. Newsweek uses it at least twice in every issue. I saw it today in the freaking Times. What demographic do they suppose that phrase speaks to at this point? I remember the commercial. We all do, now that it will live on in perpetuity in the American lexicon.

Grrrr.

The juries are in, and Borat is a hit (though maybe Tim Allen will conquer the weekend box office receipts with that Santa movie), but more importantly my boy Sacha Baron Cohen is finally a star. Madonna saw him first, but we were quick to jump on the Ali G bandwagon. Borat was always our favorite character. The New York Times goes on and on about the brilliance of the satire and his poke-funedness and how Cohen's Jewish background comes into play. I'm sure I'll be able to to wax on all that after I see it, but I am just eager to laugh my ass off and weep tears of happiness into my Mr. Pibb.

My husband told me that the buzz is that if Borat does huge box office this weekend that the Academy won't recognize Cohen...but he is so revered that just maybe he'll get a nod for Best Supporting Actor. And why not? In the (somewhat garbled) words of Jean Girard, "you taste of America".

This has been out for a while, but it made me happy today, for four minutes or so. Some yummy pomme frites and walnut-encrusted duck leg made me happy for almost an hour!

"Consider earphones a social cue.
Wearing earphones is like hanging a “do not disturb” sign off your nose. Like an engrossing novel, they help you avoid interactions with annoying strangers on airplanes or subways. Unfortunately, they send the same go-away message at work. That’s useful if you wear them only when you’re on deadline, but your iPod is more likely to irritate co-workers if you hide behind it eight hours a day." - from The Morning News' correspondent Margaret Mason's article on iPod etiquette. I've posted on iPod etiquette before, I believe it was after I found out my friend Lynn wore hers TO THE DENTIST. I like this choice in concept. After all, who really enjoys the strange, controlled, one-sided discussions you have at the dentist? The brief spurts of talking between spits. But in practice, wearing the iPod during the teeth cleaning sends a message that seems a bit hurtful to the very kind dental hygenist and/or dentist on whom your pain management depends. And that is dangerous.

In other news, Halloween was fun, on the whole. Pumpkin carving and eating witch-shaped pasta and trick-or-treating were highlights. Right before Halloween we were "Phantomed", which is a new neighborhood "game". That I hate. Like her. I agree that it shares qualities with a pyramid scheme, or even worse, a chain letter. After a chiding phone call from a Mrs. Robin Guard-Davis who said she was chair of the Phantom Commmittee, and that I was officially on Phantom Probation for lying to my children (only for a day or two - I finally gave in and told them) and for not making homemade snacks, I tried to lighten up and enjoy the Phantom ride. (Mrs. Guard-Davis, as you may have guessed, is a pseudonym for an equally vitrolic and non-domestic neighbor who thought it very funny that I didn't tell my children we had been Phantomed. ) I swear - each holiday becomes more and more tiresome the closer we get to it, and that, folks, means something has to give. I can't take my children out of school, I can't avoid the church anymore than I already do, and I'm already seen as a bizarre mom who - gasp - likes to just hang with my family and play games....so the answer lies somewhere else. Where? I'll keep you posted.

It's no fun at all, but I haven't any time to post right now. And this, in the middle of NaBloPoMo! Yet, priorities are just that...and in my constant battle to put my family first, I am currently fighting small insurgencies of extra-curricular activities along with sniper-like seasonal events. So blogging must take a back seat.

That said, my daughter's homework was excellent the other night. (In general, her entire school experience has been excellent. This year in particular has been stellar super scrumptious excellent.) She was asked to fill in a chart for a Mrs. Chen, giving her a schedule of all of her errands, and how much time she would have to do them before meeting the young Chens at the bus. For example, if Mrs. Chen left the mall at 1:15 after having spent 50 minutes shopping, and it takes her seven minutes to reach the grocers, how long can she stay at the grocery store before needing to leave to get to the bus stop (time to drive from grocery store to bus stop=ten minutes). LOVE IT! I was so happy that I understood the homework and could actually assist my daughter should she need help, and that here was a real-life lesson that would serve her well down the road, and mainly that I felt much more effective than Mrs. Chen that day! She only went to the mall, the grocery store, and the auto repair shop. Please. I can nail all that in an hour.

Good Girls Go Bad, for a Day - New York Times: not an indictment, but a little essay on the sexy Halloween costumes my generation of women, and beyond, seem to favor.

As an adult, my costumes have been: Bruce Springsteen circa "Born in the U.S.A.", a baby with a diaper, a fly fisherwoman, and a K&W server, complete with hairnet.

Some of us don't need a flippin' pagan holiday to exude a little heat. Rawwrr!

You know I wanna piece of that pie! Listen all the way through - the bridge is SICK.

You all are just going to have to ride out my fascination with JT.

Also today: Gramps' birthday, Friday the 13th, the school Fall Festival aka Event Causing Belle's First Fall Meltdown Due to Too Many People and Fall Treats Such As Cotton Candy (Meltdown #2 to follow next week), Lemony Snicket's End, and prep for our trek to the coast to celebrate friends' impending adoption of their daughter. They travel to China next month. Happy times.

My yard has three yard signs in it now. One for a guy who we know who is running for judge, one for a judge who is running for reelection and was STRONGLY ENDORSED(by my husband's boss), and one for a County Commissioner candidate who is far better than the alternative. Soon, a sign promoting the local bond issue will join the happy patch of signs. I am not alone - everyone in our 'hood and all around us have signs. I particularly enjoy how our stretch of lawn offers high-visibility for our chosen endorsees.

But today, we drove by my brother's house, far north of here (I mean, not like Quebec City, but it seems really far away) and saw no signs. Actually, we saw one. Just one. And very few bumper stickers aside from the occasional "W", but those seem to be disappearing quicker than you can send an IM message.

What is up? Is it that these folks are too busy to care? Are there neighborhood ordinances forbidding signage? Are my neighbors and me too precious and really shouldn't promote various candidates so much? I could probably make some gross, and sort of mean, generalizations here. But I've gotten in trouble doing that, so I won't to keep life simpler. I'll just report the facts and then see if any of you can help me figure out why my fellow city dwellers don't seem to be getting involved.

Whoa!! this reminds me of the great Sharpie innovations of 2002!

Halloween - not my favorite holiday for years, until I discovered that if I sent my children out with their Dad, I could stay home, drink wine, dole out candy to the few visitors we have, and watch "ET". Now things are getting dicier. My daughter wants to go trick or treating alone, and she wants to dress like agirly whore. I've never bought into the whole "women have to look campy and hot" thing for Halloween, and I really don't want her starting all this crap at her tender young age. Then again, she doesn't ask for much, she's very good and sweet, and my son is going to wear an eye patch, carry a sword and call it a day. So I have some cash to spare.

If she wears that get-up, she ain't going alone, though.

Like me, the country cannot heal until the Irishmen, Bono & Co., come to make everything right. They did it in grand style the other night - and the Falcons got routed. Coincidence?? Watch Green Day & U2 cover "The Saints Are Coming" and you decide.

I kind of understand the impulse...my fall knitting project could set me back $150!

Our household watched a replay of Clinton's Fox News interview, and most members felt a wave of excitement and relief that someone had enough power to successfully take on what sometimes seems like an unbeatable opponent....a feeling shared across the Internets. But my son complained that the interview lasted FOREVER (Then go outside and shoot hoops! Is your political analysis gene kicking in? There is little chance you avoided inheriting a love of policy wonk goodness but you don't have to fall prisoner to it so early, dude!). And he got critical too - he thought Clinton was mean and nasty and "a bad President". The kid's not alone, but things seemed a bit more even-handed yesterday. Just a bit.

This morning I pulled a "BAW" move and fell on my cute, bronze, slingbacks. At church. In front of others. My dress was ok, but my foot? It hurts. And I think I have torn ligaments or sprained something or something. So yet again my husband is having to do everything and we are having to cancel stuff and rearrange schedules. Maybe the grand design is in place to slow me down?

I really lurved seeing The Lion King - Tour...sometimes I am just a sucker for musical theahtur...and I think that Julie Taymor is a genius, and "The Circle Of Life" is one of those inexplicable tear-jerker songs for me, so all in all a good evening. My son only slept through the final scene and woke in time to see the big finale with Simba, Jr. showing up on Pride Rock. My daughter was bummed about the big death scene, but better Disney to educate her about that than me.

Fall is in full swing here and I could not be more stressed out or overwhelmed. I'm trying to remember the lessons of The Salmonella and just take life one day at a time and treasure the special down time with my three big priorities. It's hard, though. I need to keep remembering my motto: September Sucks.

Bad enough that I ate a bunch of these golden nuggets of goodness in the grocery store, before paying for them. Worse still was being busted by her skinny, elegant self in aisle 10. (That would be the cleaning products aisle. Nary a food stuff in her cart.)

THE BEST OF SUMMER as seen & enjoyed by me.

Books: "Blood Done Sign My Name" by my fellow Southerner (so proud to say that), Timothy Tyson, "Drop City" by an old favorite, T.C. Boyle, and "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane" by Kate DiCamillo

DVDs: "High School Musical", "Inside Man" and "Elizabeth 1"

Movies: "Who Killed the Electric Car" (if only because we saw it at a hippy theatre in Hippyville, aka Asheville - the perfect venue!) and "Stick It" and "Little Miss Sunshine" (I will not link to this due to the annoyingly ubiquitous marketing of this film).

Vacations: Fallingwater and Ocracoke

Web sites: No end of snarky fun, and
way too hip for me, and you know how I really just want to be able to bake all day.

Music: Thommy York, Alan and Elvis, and well, you know...Justin...

Though 9/6 is the day he was born, that particular anniversary has rarely been kind to my husband. He shares his birthday with my mom - not a bad thing, but it detracts from his moment. People forget his birthday religiously. Including his own family every now and again. One year we woke up on September 6th after a really, really bad nightmare...to destruction the likes of which I had never seen before, and never saw again til the tsunami and Katrina hit. One memorable birthday I woke up at five a.m. not to celebrate my husband, but to mourn a complete stranger.

September the sixth is an amazing day, despite it all. Just think, honey! You and the new heir to the Japanese throne share something in common now. And Suri Cruise has been revealed to the world - ON YOUR BIRTHDAY. This modest, humble, slyly and strangely funny guy really deserves better...but it doesn't seem likely this year, anyway, since he is deep in the middle of a trial and is putting in 16 hour + days, including today. My strategy will thus be to try and make every day feel like his birthday...and even if I don't succeed, it is a worthy goal.

I could not be more proud of my boy Andre. Seems like I'm not alone in this. Go have fun with Steffi and the kiddos.

I don't like Bob Dylan. Or the Beatles. You knew that going into this relationship, so don't start throwing it in my face now, dammit. But I am so freaking intrigued that Cate Blanchett (among a ton of others) is playing Dylan that I might just someday pay to see the biopic. Link via Stereogum.

We are currently experiencing a tropical storm here in the third world country where I reside. Again.

I've had three job offers in two days.

I turned down one.

I'm mulling over the other two.

I'd really just rather be a mommy.

I told a couple of people about this blog just yesterday. It was sort of liberating to admit that the "Proud 6", as I call my readership, are those I know and love.

Of course, I have loads of ways of drawing in a bigger audience. But, I chose not to do so....I instead hope to please my adoring, but small public as best I can with my limited and poorly-written posts.

AGAIN with my china! I had no idea it was so hip.

And, as you might add, again with the burritoes.

It's been Weezer Week here at Whilst. First, "Island in the Sun" has a random prominence in our Netflixed children's movie, "Aquamarine" (don't bother unless you want to see Emma Roberts now to compare to later, when she is a big star). Then my son puts "Don't Let Go" on his "Awesome Rock Songs" iMix (just after "Gold Digger" by Ludacris and just before "Daft Punk" by LCD Soundsytem). And upon surfing the Internets I find out they've broken up and I'm so sad.

But they haven't! See? And better yet, they have my china! I think maybe Rivers got married along the way, maybe even in '92 - '94 like we did.

Eagerly awaiting the next Weezer moment.

Last night I wanted a quick, easy and light dinner. I decided to split a chicken adobe burrito with my son from Whole Foods. I glanced at the nutrition information. BIG MISTAKE. The thing has 900 calories! With 45 grams of fat! What in the WORLD???

I tried to research the Whole Foods burritoes but came up short using only the Internets. Here is one of my ideal scenarios at Chipotle, though, and note that it is sans tortilla! Once you eat this, your day's allotment of calories is about gone my friend. I've had a rude burrito awakening:

Chipotle Nutrition Facts Serving Size: 1 Burrito Bol Amount Per Serving Calories 1004 Calories from Fat 410 % DV* Total Fat 45g Saturated Fat 12.5g Cholesterol 136mg Sodium 2859mg Total Carbohydrate 100g Dietary Fiber 16.5g Sugars 9g Protein 50g Vitamin A 128% Vitamin C 74% Calcium 14% Iron 14%

Chipotle Nutrition Results provided by:
Chipotle Fan.com

Family game day has been expanded to include THE GAME OF LIFE...and I enjoy it. I'm only slightly impatient - much more than during Battleship and a lot less than during checkers. I will own to getting down if I have to pay a lot of taxes and my heart sank a bit when today I adopted twins immediately after giving birth to a bouncing baby plastic blue boy...the day care square was not far behind. My children eagerly go for the high salary and the glamour careers - while I toil away, buying up stocks and making sure I have full auto and home coverage. I didn't buy the beach house, prompting my two to call me crazy, and I found no joy in drawing a LIFE card giving me forty grand for winning the Pulitzer, since that just isn't gonna happen.

Life. When did it get so boring?

There is a bit of a catfight going on in mi casa.

Beyonce vs. Xtina

Here is exhibit A - I do hope you'll side with me. Ms. Aguilera has the pipes but the WW2-era stuff isn't quite doing it for me.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly: Summer 2006. Well, that should be the title anyway. After my transmission went defunct, and my husband's lovely grandmother died, and various other little things (always the little things) made us sad or mad or frustrated, we were able to get away to the OBX and see things we'd not seen and relax and enjoy time that passed almost too slowly - a novelty and a fantastic one. On the way back we ate at Wilbur's BBQ, an Eastern NC institution. I'm not sure if this is where it happened, but it might have been, and what happened is I picked up a bit of a salmonella infection.

Good. Lord. In. Heaven. Almighty.

I'm still having post-traumatic stress syndrome from the full week of hell that I endured. A bright spot is the weight loss but I do not, repeat, do not recommend the diet. My children were scared, my husband was the picture of patience and support, my parents came to the rescue, and I basically laid in bed unable to take fluids much less jello or a cracker and focusing on the intense pain 24 hours a day for days that seemed to never end. And then the nights. Oh God the nights.

I'm better now. Better enough. A proud moment was taking the children to our first (and only) Bulls game of the season and seeing Kevin Witt hit a lefty homer into our section to clinch the win. I've also attempted the farmer's market and gotten hold of some good ole okra and fragrant peaches. Today we might just venture downtown and see what's what.

The summer is slipping away and I'm pissed I missed a whole week of it. But I'm back in the saddle now and plan to ride this baby out til the bitter end.

Beach reading:

Never Let Me Go by Ishiguro

The Tongues of Angels by Reynolds Price

Blink by Gladwell

And a ton of magazines.

S/FJ has an interesting running record of people weighing in on record stores, their employees, and their sicko tactics to make any kind of money at all. I haven't read all of the entries but I get the feeling this is like a time-capsule sort of exercise: one day, record stores will be no more and Sasha's blog will provide a quaint remembrance of a time gone by.

At any rate, it should not surprise regular readers of Whilst (aka my friends and family) that I worked at a record store. This was during Christmas break, probably 1987, and my mom thought a job would cheer me up from the crushing depression I was experiencing due to a horrid bout with pneumonia and the funk brought on my heavy doses of my anti-convulsant. She was right. I can't even remember the name of the store...it was across from the mall and not in it, of course there were no c.d.s, and I was the only girl in the shop. I have never looked as hip as my music taste and especially not that year with my big ole hair and blue eyeshadow. But I knew a lot and I impressed the boys at the store. The management, inspired by my sales, challenged the employees to hit a fairly high goal that Christmas. We would be rewarded with a FREE TAPE! We made it, and I got my first Stevie Ray Vaughan.

The store had Beastie Boys and U2 and even some Lone Justice (my GOD Maria - please get it together!!! You have such talent, dear!), but it was heavy on R&B, in keeping with the 'hood of its location's preferences. My favorite customer interaction was with the guy who was looking for a record that he could play whilst making love to his girlfriend. My various suggestions (Sade? Jody Whatley? Cameo?) were met with scorn and laughter. He finally admonished me that "you ain't sleeping with a brother worthy of you, baby" because "none of those records lasts NEAR as long as me!". I acknowledged that this was definitely the case...and I sold him a long-ass LeVert record and wistfully sent him on his way.

Sometimes I tear up at the weirdest times, like when we approached this house on Sunday.

I didn't tear up when in the same room with my friend and her baby who had just died.

I sobbed later, though.

There was a time when we were at the church a whole bunch. The children were small, I was desperate for activities, and my husband was enjoying the intellectual theology discussions in our Sunday School class. That time has passed, due in large part to severe burn-out from saying YES too much. And due to an influx of not-very-intellectual religious people who, as my theory goes, joined to be with their Bush-loving peoples. Or to assuage their fears after 9/11...whatever. And to a feeling that God, should he or she care, would really prefer for me to have precious family time instead of shipping my children off to craft hour whilst I decide what casserole to take to someone with yet another new baby.

But we do go occasionally, and I love our preacher's style and substance, and the church thing is calming in the way that many rituals are. I'm glad to be part of a community and since I believe, a la Middlemarch, that we are put on this Earth to help one another, a church is not a bad place to appear in every now and again.

There are tons of baptisms at our church each week - thanks to the aforementioned preacher and maybe the listed reasons for our congregation's explosion - and the children saw one this week. Now, they have set up an entire day care center in our home for around 36 stuffed animals/dolls. The day care center features a chapel, where all of their bibles (you get free ones at church) are piled on a stool and a bucket filled with water stands nearby. My son in particular seems keen on putting hands and water on each animal. So last night I snapped a shot of him as he had Baby Li-Li, a tiny stuffed panda, in his arms and was making a cross (well, more of an x or something) on its tiny head, saying, "I baptize you the name of the Father, the man, and the spirit". While the boy continues his baptizing, I have noticed that the girl has been filling out report cards. Power Ranger got a negative 5 rating, but Blue Bunny is up to a four. In the meantime, our house is not open for guests or visits and my husband cusses every time he trips over something on the way to the bathroom, but my children, they have found religion.

Katie Mayer it use calamus!

What do the spammers think they are going to accomplish with such subject lines?

A fun summer week here. Some commitments, and one that is sad and bad and tragic, but I am put on earth to help my fellow humans so there it is, and also the occasional doc/dentist outing, but mostly happy urchins and not-too-busy husband and good books, and health! And plans for travel upcoming and interesting movies and books and ripening tomatoes and air conditioning.

www.myspace.com/justintimberlake is playing SexyBack!

I know, I know. Here I am getting all excited about Justin's new single when I saw perhaps the single most maddeningly talented performer since Prince whip a crowd into a crazed frenzy last night with a sick mix of jazz, rock, hip-hop, strange covers (The White Stripes' "7 Nation Army" AND Pussycat Girls??), manic energy, slick dance moves, annoyingly pretty guitar playing and adept drumming, clever on-stage banter, fun sing-alongs, gracious praise for fellow band-mates and audience-love, and of course audacious piano playing.

I'm just that way. Plus, Justin has been around longer. But I'm hopeful for Jamie's future.

As for the phone saga, I don't have any heart or energy to type any more about it. Suffice to say that many dollars were spent and even more time (around 3.5 hours on the phone) just to get us to a point where we will have our phone and number back safely at BellSouth. In ten days.

We're changing our email address too. I'm kind of excited about that. Sort of like dropping 20 lbs or dyeing your hair blond, right?

And before any more time passes, let these pages reflect the passing of a most amazing lady. My husband's grandmother died at age 92 last week. We are all sad, and that is saying something - that my children had a relationship with a great grandparent, that she adopted me as her own granddaughter (literally - she even sent "Happy Birthday, Granddaughter" cards along with very generous checks until just recently), that she was such a meaningful presence in my husband's life, that we all felt so close to her despite her living in the great wild plains of America's midwest.

Grandma lived through some hard times, including the hardest time I could possibly imagine for myself or any mother. We sought to honor her struggle by naming our son after someone she loved. I think she was pleased. I hope we will find many other ways to remember her and her energetic, loving, accepting, and family-centered life.

Day three or four or whatever it is...and no phone. I'm using my cell exclusively. I signed up for a mack-daddy package with BellSouth - JUST because they assured me I would have a phone by midnight yesterday...which didn't happen. I was also lured by unlimited long distance and I thought we might as well ditch Earthlink altogether. Part of me also hoped that by changing my email address I might get fewer emails. I need more free time - I have a new commitment to be creative this year and that means getting my ass out of the computer chair a bit more than it is currently.

Creativity is very stymied, however, by this day-to-day, rote crap called life. Sheesh. Hopefully tomorrow will bring a dial tone.

We tried a little digital phone experiment with Earthlink - that lasted a day. I know we are babes in the technology woods, but the phone didn't sound good, I couldn't use but one of our three phones, and I started getting scared once I did a little research. Filled with fear of upwards of $175 in "early termination fees" and warnings that I would be strongly encouraged not to quit the service, a la the AOL sitch,
I called tonight and canceled. I was honest, I was a bit meek, I played the "my children and I are alone and need a phone service we can rely on" card, I repeated again and again my desires and what I was understanding was what was going to happen. I got my service canceled to the tune of around $100....$50 of which we may or may not get back...but I also got some good advice and tips from my friendly Earthlink representative. I've reinstated our local phone service (another $50 or so) and now the waiting begins. I'm to call them back on Wednesday...we'll see what happens. Regardless, and regardless of how few of you read this, I'm reporting back. The little gals and guys need to keep people aware on the Internets of the horrors of cancelation, and indeed, the customer service world in general (reg req'd).

HOLY SHIT! OH MY GOD! SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!!

I really needed this right now. Thanks, boys. Since 1995, I've been waiting for one of my teams to win something, anything...and the Stanley Cup has proved as sweet a reward as any I've known. And Cam Ward was our pick for the Conn Smythe. Completely deserved.

Back to celebrating! DAMN!

If, like me, you were wondering what all the fuss over the Red Hot Chili Peppers' song is, and you are a Tom Petty fan from way back, and you just needed the basic facts, check here.

Sounds kind of dubious to me. I really want to still like the RHCP but after a meidocre concert experience (during which I had to watch humping, smoking, doping by the crowd, and a BORING PERFORMANCE by the artists) I've lost interest.

"parenting is a really fucking hard job," she says, "one that certainly makes me insecure. So we all slog through this job wondering if we're doing the right thing and always feeling terrified that we're not, and then when we encounter someone who has done some other thing, made some different decision, we take that insecure energy and turn it into judgmental hate." Source

Maybe it is o.k. that the children are at Camp Grandma this week. You know, so I can avoid the hate thrown my way.

Find your own pose!

Thanks to 2 Fussy for this link.

I love to sleep. About the only thing my husband would consent to spending money on in our married life (well, besides fly fishing and beer making equipment) is on fine sleeping materials. Our bed, bedding, mattress and pillows cost more than our entire suite of living room furniture. Plus the major appliances in the kitchen. Our bed is legend - even with the new mattress (bought because of wailing complaints about the crappy lumpy mattress in the guest room - so they got our older, perfect one and we are having to break in one that will soon be perfect).

You know I love the Unisom and the drink, and I also love the floor fan blowing on me, but what I had forgotten til last night is the sleeping effect of an evening's swim. After a healthy, homemade supper (the last one for 2 weeks since husband is out of town and then children go out of town), we went to the pool. We were the only ones there and though the weather was coolish, I got in. (And then got out, which was brutal, but made getting BACK in more pleasant). I treaded water and swam some laps with the children (I can barely remember the days of holding one to float whilst the other one was strapped in a moldy Baby Bjorn) and splashed about.

Back home, after a shower, I read books to them and woke up an hour later, book on my face. I cleaned up, got the house ready for nighttime, watched a Frasier re-run whilst waiting on a load of laundry, and raced back to my cool sheets, my lovely floor fan, my perfect pillows, and the deep sleep brought on by my time in the water.

Soccer ended for another year today (not really, but part of it did) and again we realize that the bookish intellectuals playing Dungeons and Dragons over steaming cups of black coffee are not going to be these children of ours....we have young children who like sports and lots of them and fight hard to be good at them. I'm not sure if I'm competitve or not, I'm not sure if I'm an old softie or more of a hard-ass, and I'm not sure EVER if I'm saying or doing the right thing when she's out on the field or after a game. My daughter makes sure we know when we've upset her, which is good, I think. But I don't really know what goes on in her head and won't ever. Ultimately, I want her to have fun out there and to love her teammates and play like part of a team and to respect authority. Along the way if she wants to take some names and run up some scores, more power to her and more fun for us! I have some learning to do - I need to learn a few key parenting guidelines as we follow her lead into this game she loves. And it would really, really help if I could learn the rules of the damn sport.

I used to give my friend Lynn a word of the day - not long after we started taking "The New Yorker". These were words like peripatetic and anfractuosity. You know, "New Yorker" words. Now that I read blogs more regularly than magazines, I have come across a whole new set of words...and not just abbreviations, YKWIM? Here is the one used the most frequently in my fave blogs that has taken me a while to get the hang of: enjoy!

Most of what I am doing is pretty boring these days - boring for me but INCREDIBLY FUN AND DYNAMIC for the children. So I'm trying to spice up the end-of-year party planning and transfer ironing-on and field day volunteer scheduling with some Kulture.

We saw the gay cowboy movie. And I was gratified that in the behind-the-scenes extras, Jake Gyllenhal actually mentions the words "gay" and "cowboy". I loved the film, I cried a few extra tears than my usual amount just to honor its historic contribution to American cinema. I especially loved Heath - he had me at his first muffled "hullo".

I re-read the short story, too. Many, many years have gone by since I first read it and I had forgotten a lot about it. Turns out that the movie is beyond faithful to the story. Who knew. I loved that they were able to film images that are sooooo Annie Proulx (like the sheep herd heading over the mountain like a stream of dirty water) in "Brokeback Mountain".

I'm way into Flannery O'C. for my book club. As it turns out, we'll be attending our first bris the night of book club, and I should totally skip out, but I think I can get there late to lecture all the ladies on what I find the finest writing anywhere. Sheesh. That woman puts down prose like a house afire.

And finally, I took a guitar lesson, a birthday gift from back in March. This was big fun, and completely confusing, but inspiring, and I have a little announcement, and that would be to Madonna.

Madonna: I have always envied you many things, the least of which is your ability to play a bar chord. I understand that you had a staff of twelve gay guitarists who taught you this skill, but deep down I just thought you were stronger and had longer fingers than me, you know, because of the yoga and Pilates and stuff. But Madonna, guess what - I played a bar chord today! I played LOTS of them! And it hurt, but not quite as badly as I thought! And I plan to play more of them. I even bought another capo (my "Lourdes" and "Rocco" destroyed my other one) so I could continue on with the whole fretting and transposing thing.

I hope to learn something from your cannon, perhaps "La Isla Bonita". Thank you much - Belle

Thank God for the Carolina Hurricanes! (Such a funny team name in a way - just because it is ice hockey - it is like the Wichita Wave sailing team or something) (Then again, I love the red motif and the image of a hurricane is so suitably scary to us Carolinians, and now to the nation...and they blow a weather siren when the boys score - ok, I like it)

My poor husband - the Deacons had a crappy year and he basically blew off college basketball most of the season. I won't comment more on that because the gravity of the situation demands delicacy. Then we both got excited about the Braves...for no reason. Well, I have one reason, but it is not so much about his baseball playing abilities. Though those are really great for his Baby Brave status. Then my hubby decided that Barbaro would win the Preakness and thus, the Triple Crown.

Ok. So you see where I am headed.

But the hockey team! The team currently playing in the middle of a spring heat wave in Raleigh - they are doing great! And making us proud, and providing all kinds of exciting sports moments. I am gainly trying to learn about checking (which I hate) and hat tricks (which seem highly unlikely) and in the meantime hoping that this bunch of scrappy skaters lift my sports-hungry husband's spirits.

WHO IS THAT????

I have just realized that we are supposed to attend a going-away party Wednesday night for a couple I haven't even SEEN, much less talked with, in months. This being the very night of the LOST season finale (that begins at a very family-unfriendly 8 p.m.). Even though we haven't seen much of this couple, they deserve a proper send-off to their new state, right? OR NOT. Where are my priorities, you might ask? Uh, they are on the island, apparently, cause I am wondering if I have a "scratchy throat" or perhaps the "tummy bug" right now.

Tonight is the 24 season finale, also at the witching hour. I'm going to run my children ragged prior to start time and hope they crash early with no requests for water or another book or anything, so that we can watch our tiny screen carefully and with much anticipation.

Will Jack get killed tonight? I wonder. Maybe Kiefer didn't really sign another contract.

I should be following news like this far more closely, and I will...but I have to get through the little fight we are having with our school board right now.

One part of the fight will be over in hours. Maybe minutes. Then on to educating the electorate about education.

If I've learned anything during this fight, it is that people can be very proprietary, incredibly mean, and completely unsupportive. And you? You just have to carry on regardless.

Could it be that the lessons I've hoped to learn when I'm 40 are kicking in now? That I shouldn't or don't have to care what other people think? Or that regardless of what they think, what I think is important? And that I am completely fabulous and who gives a shit if people are mean cause they are just jealous?

Thirty-eight is feeling pretty good right about now.

Many things to fret and worry about - year-round schools (and our lack of desire to attend one), a new job (just for a few weeks and then I can think about next year), husband out-of-town (but we're doing fine), all the crazed Mom beyotches in town (I have got to find some thicker skin), a/c unit leaking (NOT FREAKING AGAIN!!! HOW CAN THIS BE???).

Many things to enjoy, too. Rain. And lots of it, to alleviate our drought conditions and help our tiny family garden to sprout at last. Funny comments from the children - from my son, telling his sister that "You're really too pretty to be cute". And my daughter telling me to "live life day-by-day and take it as it comes". When I asked her where she got this philosophy, her answer was not very surprising. Tball and soccer games, spring views and smells, good books and music, and our trip to New York. Typing it all out helps me remember and helps me shake off the yicky, sticky coating of evil from the aforementioned concerns.

I consider myself to be the new Renaissance woman. Why, just yesterday I dined on a pineapple boat with chicken salad at a country club that denies entry to those dressed in denim. Not long before, I taught music to hordes of munchkins at a private cooperative preschool, careful not to sing about the aged ("This Old Man") or, God forbid, God ("Kum Bah Yah"). Not long after the luncheon, I hauled my children about in my minivan to t-ball and gymnastics practice. And later that evening I prepared a hot meal for my family that included a delightful, fresh gourmet salad.

Today, though, all bets are off. I'm going camping. Again. I know you can't believe I would head back out after last fall's experience in the landing path of the airport. I'm taking my son and I'm taking two other ladies...one a girl scout, the other a novice. There will be drinking, oh yes, there will be drinking...but more importantly, there will be sleeping. Bears, thunderstorms, and Iraqui war veterans blasting Van Halen across the camp site be damned, I will sleep tonight. Thank you LORD.

I spent my Saturday night enjoying quiet, pleasant pursuits like growling and drinking and laughing at my husband and in-laws. My children, on the other hand, were worked up into a heavy-duty froth over Jack Black and his hosting duties for the 2006 Kid's Choice Awards. It was all good, clean fun, especially when Will Smith admonished children to hang out with good kids and when Pink sang about stupid girls, but aren't I glad we weren't standing in the mosh pit!

My inlaws and I tried to tell my daughter that Lindsay Lohan isn't the best role model. She seems unkind, disloyal, and really, really into blow. And, as seen above, doesn't wear underwear at public appearances. Our admonishments fell on ears deafened by the hum of Herbie the Love Bug, but then again, how noble is it of we adults to even know these things about Lindsay Lohan? Or even to care? Lesson learned.

Forgetting the (ridiculous) pro-life sentiments this piece of art is trying to put across, I still can't look at this thing seriously at all. I mean, ew. The bearskin rug. Also the serene expression whilst the cooter is thrust into the air (note there are no rear views of the sculpture). I do love my Britney. But there are no words for this thing. Where are her P.R. people? WHO is telling her these things are a good idea??

In the art of shameless self-promotion, I am your basic Picasso. And I can also shamelessly promote others I find worthy. Or others with whom my life has been completely and joyfully entangled. Speaking of entangled, go watch.

While I agree that little girls' outfits make them look like tiny teen Abercrombie sluts, I think that this website may be one of the scarier ones I've encountered in a while. Off to peruse it further! Bring on the pain!

There are days it is hard to be a mom, and there are days when I am so glad I had children. Children are incredibly useful, or they are at the age mine have reached, when it comes to certain tasks and basic human needs. For example, I came home yesterday having spent more than planned on the first bathing suit that held in my goods with some degree of support and modesty. (I wanna look cute at the pool, but not so cute, and not Anna Nicole Smith cute, and I wanna be able to swim and walk around and be somewhat decent.) I decided that if the fam liked the suit, it would be worth the money just to have the 2006 summer suit purchase taken care of so early. I hate shopping and I could tick this off my list.

So I tried on the suit. Red. One-piece. Interesting neckline. Good support for the goods. Perhaps a bit short on the bottom but my husband likes that. Upon seeing the suit he gave a nod of approval and has been chasing me around the house ever since...so, success. My daughter rushed up with her happy face: "Oh! Mommy, it's SO cute! I really love it." After a hug, she patted my goods. Maybe they look pat-able, not such a bad thing, yes? Into my son's room where his big blue eyes lit up, his warmest smile overtook his little face, and his sweet voice whispered, "You. Look. Beautiful."

Sold.

I'm trying really, really hard to hold it together today....

Gad. And now I am pretty much convinced Tony is going to bite it as he saves the remaining CTU employees and offs Henderson in the doing - thus creating major problems for Jack in finding the remaining canisters of SINTEX NERVE GAS (or whatever it is).

I watch so little television, and perhaps this deep depression I am currently experiencing is why.

My Oscar picks, as I sent them to an old college friend for his 12th annual contest (I won once, have come in 2nd a few times, and last year was just a disgrace.)

PIC: Crash
DIRECTOR: Haggis (I now think Ang Lee can pull this out, but I'm sticking with Crash for Best Picture)
ACTOR: Hoffman
ACTRESS: Witherspoon
SUPPORTING 'OR: Clooney Baby
SUPPORTING 'ESS: Michelle Williams (I now am wondering if Rachel Weisz is not the winner...I think my husband voted for her - so hopefully we'll get the cash regardless of my choices)

I may not watch the whole kit and caboodle, but I will more than likely tune into Isaac.

I'm singing in a choir again, for the first time in 15 years. Maybe my life is just going to be one re-run after another....volunteering, a job, school?, reuniting with old friends, d.j.ing for college radio...don't laugh, it could happen. For now, I need to brush up. My diaphragm is not in good shape for singing.

Now THIS is rock and roll! Via Stereogum.

But while we're on that topic yet again, damn that Diet Coke....then again, I agree that it is nice he is still making cash.

Today's post brought to you by my son. His first report! And I must say, it is brevity itself: full of drama and angst, glory and victory.

Enjoy!

"Abraham Lincoln was born in a log cabin in 1809. He did not like people having slaves. He was a lawyer.* President Lincoln was elected twice. He went to a play and someone shot him in the head.**"

* There was no influence given by Daddy for this fact. None.

** We had a very hard time convincing our son that there should be other facts beyond this violent one.

Canadian or not, I really wish these people were real. And I'm starting to hold off on the Canadian-hatin'. I like some real Canadians, and I think Rachel McAdams is real pretty. (I prefer her with dark hair). (Like Madonna).

And I love cartoons and For Better or For Worse is the one with the nicest and most real people. I read tons of them, including Mutts, my daughter's latest obsession. I also read Foxtrot, Baby Blues, Jump Start, Zits, LuAnn, Boondocks, Rhymes with Orange, Sally Forth, Bizarro, and occasionally some other dribble. My day is not complete without them. I admit it, and there it is.

It has been a weird day, full of pap smears and character smears and also love and sweets, but perhaps best described by saying that I heard a song by this completely unlikely band on the Muzak recording at the Bojangles, where I stopped to get my (un)sweet tea on.

That, in addition to the new Motorolla Razr phone ad is making me jaded.

Your Winter Olympics Moment: Last night, when watching the luge event, and thereby exposing my children to a sport that if they ever had a chance to actually do, would probably maime them, we heard a competitor announced as "The Speeding White Sausage". Mr. Georg Hackl, I decided, is probably known in his native land as something more like Der Speedin Bratwurst. But my meat-loving husband put me to right: he would be Der Speedin Knockwurst. Fine. I'll try to brush up on my German deli meats.

I have another blog that you don't know about, one I keep with a friend and is full of all kinds of kinky secrets and funny things that you will never know of nor see, but we do have a meme going, and here are my answers. The meme originated with the blogging glitterati such as the DOOCE and the FUSSY and all them.

FOUR JOBS I HAVE HAD:

1. Printing business salesgirl. One Toyota Corolla ('76), tons of flowy skirts, around 75 downtown businesses, and 104 degrees. I brought in lots of business for that company - perhaps due to the flowy skirts and the sweaty glow?

2. Head Counselor. I was so happy to get that freaking job - I got to sleep in a cushy double bed (versus cot), got to talk with adults (versus 9 y.olds), and was able to call Future Husband in Raleigh whenever I wanted (versus writing letters...which in retrospect was kind of romantic anyway).

3. Phone Friend. Involved dressing as a sexless, orange, fuzzy beast and walking in parades in Wake Forest and Garner.

4. Temp employee for the wealthiest and happeninist real estate company in the Triangle. They offered me full time employment and I turned it down to work in the non-profit do-gooder sector. Which got me to job #3. Hmmm.

FOUR MOVIES I CAN WATCH OVER AND OVER

1. The Philadelphia Story. Hepburn. Grant. Stewart. Yar.

2. Babe. I love the talking animals, yessir.

3. Moonstruck. I feel personally responsible for Nick Cage's success. That is another post for another day.

4. A Room With a View. You knew I was a Merchant-Ivory girl, so don't act so surprised.

FOUR PLACES I HAVE LIVED

1. Here

2. There (Macon, GA)

3. College (Greenville, SC)

4. The Mountains

FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE

1. 24

2. Lost

3. The Colbert Report/The Daily Show

4. (south park)


FOUR PLACES I HAVE VACATIONED

1. Derbyshire, England (Mr. Darcy!)

2. Digby, Nova Scotia (famous for scallops?)

3. Tulum, Mexico (now we enter the vacationing with children category)

4. Disneyworld (repeat visit? I DON'T THINK SO.)

FOUR OF MY FAVORITE THINGS TO EAT

1. Salad

2. Fries

3. Cheesecake

4. Noodles

FOUR SITES I VISIT DAILY

1. Trent

2. WRAL.COM Doppler Radar

3. NYTimes online

4. Bob Mould's online diary

Senora Carranza, we hardly knew ye...rest in peace.

Britney, God help you. The coverage has been thorough, but Stereogum's caption on the story was my favorite: "DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE". I am truly hopeful that there is a really, really good reason for this.

I myself have never even unbuckled my children from their car seats, though I have a. not buckled them in the first place, oops, and b. left them in the back seat instead of taking them to day care (that was really my husband) and c. nursed in a moving car. That last maneuver really only proves how endowed I am and also that I will do anything to keep the car rolling down the road.

Honey, make sure the managing partners aren't walking by before you see this early Valentine's treat.

My hubby read books to my daughter's class today, and will do this for my son's class later in the week. What a good Daddy. If only they knew his dark obsession with the star of "Match Point".

Today's post brought to you my daughter, who has written a report that I find fascinating if only for its persuasive tactics. It is about Emperor penguins.

"My penguin is called the Emperor Penguin. It's the largest penguin int he world! It weighs up to ninety pounds and grows up to four feet tall.

I think penguins are so cute and feathery. They always know exactly what to do. Emperor penguins eat a variety of fish and squid. Their main predators are the sea lion, and the killer whales. That's cool! Emperor penguins look like a king penguin but bigger.

Isn't that interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

For some readon Emperor penguins are the most popular penguin for kids. Emperor penguins keep their young under a bit of fat.

Emperor penguins live in Antartica OF COURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!** If you've been wondering they communicate with songs of chirps."

* approximate number of exclamation points

** exact number of exclamation points

As if you didn't know, today is the 100th day of school replete with thousands, nay, one hundred activities. Imagine my surprise today when I arrived at a kindergarten classroom to help out and found a sign that read "We Are Scientists!". Kindergarten is SO indie rock....

It's time for my annual "why the hell do I have to be so old, broke, and boring" rant....we'll get there someday.

The times are, I hope, a'changin'. I think that there is going to be a not-too-distant mecca when gas-guzzling vehicles are frowned upon, and the government will take responsibility for irresponsible environmental policies and corporate incentives that produce the same. Here is an article the likes of which we will be seeing a lot of in the coming days...if we're lucky: Climate Expert Says NASA Tried to Silence Him - New York Times

I always talk about Oprah in January, a sure sign that I am in a slump and feeling woeful...but I've maintained a no-watch policy from day one of her nationally syndicated, hugely successful, major barometer of nationals moods talk show. But I do read the magazine. Don't buy it, mind you, but I read it. And I like it. And I think it helps me. And now: my daughter has picked her subject for her Black History Month report. GUESS WHO?

Yeah, I've seen this phenomenon....I actually believed that most of the kids (much younger than me) were letting their friends hear the concert, and of course some are taking pix...of each other no less....but I digress. Stereogum's commenters reveal that sometimes the effect is lovely - as in U2's shows when the uberglows of cell phones look like so many stars in the stadium seating. BUT I WOULDN'T KNOW AS I MISSED THIS TOUR. AGAIN.

But again I digress. I was annoyed as fuck by the cell phone calls and picture taking and this old bag would like to see them banned from all shows. Who's with me?

I ain't sophi-ti-cated or nothin' but I know whats I likes. So here is a great tip for my legions of reading faithful. I enjoyed a bottle with my neighbor, a great appreciator of wine who had a recent switch to vodka (it wasn't my fault! Ok, yes it was). Peppery, yummy, dare I say even tobaccoey? It was not fruity nor a bit presumptious. I loved it and will happily shell out the ungodly sum it costs to get some more.

Party season is almost over... and I couldn't be happier. It has been suggested that I throw a party - but I don't feel like shelling out the cash and the energy. Ideas?

You all know how much seeing a Beyonce video in the mornings can just start your day off the right way...there is a newish one out and her milkshake is better than mine and yours (click on "Check on It" to view). I'm really not a lesbian, though I would play one on tv, and I am a big fan of gay marriage, too - just a big fan of marriage in general.

In my own marriage, my lesbianistic tendencies were challenged last night. Whilst watching my show, I mentioned to my husband that Evangeline Lily has joined the short but distinctive lists of folks for whom, should they visit our fair town, be available, and want me, he should step aside. He countered with a calm and thoughtful, "Actually, I think we could just all live together and make the thing work just fine." O.K.!

Have I mentioned my yoga class? It has been mentally beneficial and somewhat physically so...I definitely have more upper-body strength, though I continue to laugh inside every time the instructor calmly tells us to put our hand, leg, foot, or hip somewhere crazy. I'm getting a little less shocked after 5 months with this woman, but not much.

This woman is just lovely. I have such a crush on her -she's so pretty and lithe, and she tells me to calm my mind and be in the moment and not judge my own practice. I can't do or not do any of those things without her. I've seen her in the real world twice and once she jokingly? accused me of stalking her. I laughed maniacally as of course I would love to stalk her!!! But I won't. She needs to keep learning and growing as an instructor and I would be an annoyance.

The employees at my health club where I take yoga are evil and mean, and a woman at class today accused me of crowding her (one cannot scowl or even yell "BITCH" at a complaining fellow classmate - that is wayyyy too much negative energy in the room). Still, I look forward to seeing my instructor each time and I feel a bit lost without yoga at least once a week. How lucky am I that I can do yoga...and breathe and laugh and have sex and eat good food and see sunshine and pretty clouds and be with people I love. Lucky, appreciative and aware. That's me.

My seven year-old loves it.... it seemed like a skewed, freaky thing - very Todd Solondz but without feces and incest (although there seemed to be some tension between Kip and Rico).

She's pretty hip, this daughter o' mine, but I have kind of a weird feeling after seeing this flick.