Settle In With Some Fries And Let's Ketch...Er, Catch Up

It would seem I'm a Terrible Virtual Friend and Correspondent. So many days have drifted by and here we are with nothing more wonderful than a Catch-Up Post from me.

Get it?  Catch Up--Ketchup?

Oh well...I tried.

Spring Has Sprung! As I tap away on my keyboard, it is a Blissfully Sunny 75 degrees outdoors. My windows are open, I feel uplifted, and I'm even barefoot right now. My walk was sprightly and pleasant. Crocuses are smiling at the sun, buds are on trees, and the guy down the street was out mowing his lawn. As I leaned over our neighbor's fence to give treats to their dogs (The Boys, as I call them), I took note of their forsythia just beginning to show bright yellow blossoms. My chives are up and ready to be snipped for baked potatoes tonight, and my oregano and tarragon are starting to come on. And, looking closely, I spot a fine sprinkling of dill which has nudged up through the mulch. Hooray!

I Am The Champion! After a grueling season rife with injuries to my marquee players, my perseverance paid off and I beat Sam in the Championship Round of our NBA Fantasy League. I had an impressive record of 18-3 with an 11-game win streak. And I was the only woman in the 10-team league. My knowledge of the NBA is bordering on the obsessive at this point. Once a student, always a student.

Undecorator Update. As of today, very few Christmas Decoration Sloths in my orbit have taken down their decorations, most egregious being the Nativity Wreck on my street and the mailbox wreath three blocks north. I've decided to Be Grateful that none of the offending decor is an inflatable.

Knitting Pathology. I started a mitred square blanket with the intention of A) using up a lot of yarn that was given to me and that I had bits and pieces of; B) focusing on Knitting As Therapy, and; C) having an ongoing small and easy project that wouldn't give me fits and didn't have a date certain for necessary completion. It all sounds Just Perfect, right? Well, baloney to that.

First, I found little mini-skeins of very pretty yarn on sale that I thought, "Oh, that would be so lovely to fill in squares on the blanket project" so I bought a load of them. Then I knitted a couple of different projects that used bulkier yarn, and I really loved that, so when I found a bunch of it at a ridiculously low price, I bought that. And then I decided that I would set A Square A Day as a Knitting Assignment for myself, which is completely reasonable, and then every day I keep an eye on the clock, wondering when I'm going to have some unbroken time to sit down and knit my square. All of which is Completely Counter to what my Original Intentions were. I swear, I am a Horrible Project most of the time.

Looking Forward. Last Saturday, our mail was exciting! In it was an invitation to a release party being thrown by our favourite winemaker in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario. We were verbally invited last October, but hadn't given it much thought again until the invitation showed up. Luckily, we were able to book a room at our usual inn, and we can't wait to go and taste the new wines before they are released to the general public. We've developed some very nice relationships with so many of the wineries and winemakers there that every time we open a bottle, it's like reliving a memory.

I do so hope that Spring has shown up where you are.  We here in NEO will be back to the 40s and low 50s in just a couple of days, but this gift of Fleeting Spring has been a much-needed tonic.  And that is, after all, what Spring is all about:  rejuvenation, reward, and renewal.  I'm storing this up until Spring comes again To Stay.


original ketchup image
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In Which I Either Lose Perspective Or Highlight It. Either Way, Here's This Instead Of An Alphabet Post (Which Will Resume Later).

Sweating out whether or not George Hill, a game-time decision, will be playing on my fantasy basketball team Sunday night:

Nance: George Hill is really screwing up my lineup.
Rick: You're winning this week. It doesn't matter.
Nance: I want a decisive victory. George Hill needs to put on his big boy pants and get out there.
Rick: The other team has only one player going.
Nance: And I may or may not have George Hill.

(several hours later, after checking Rotoworld, a fantasy sports news site)

Nance: (dismissively, with snark) That's right, George Hill, you'd better be playing! (reading news item) George Hill, sore right toe, will play Sunday. What a load of bullshit! Do you know how many American workers are on the job right now with bigger problems than a sore right toe? How many go to work sick with the flu or worse? George Hill, women go to work six weeks or less after having an entire human being come out of their bodies! And many of them go on to pump their breasts at work every few hours for months afterwards. And you want to sit on the bench and collect your millions for a goddamn sore toe? Hell yes you'd better get off that bench and play tonight!
Rick: (carefully looks up from his pasta) I'm glad he heard you.
Nance: So is he.

End scene.

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Oddments And Doodads And Road, Oh My!

In lieu of a lobotomy, let's see if an offload of brain litter might help me get rid of some of the Distraction and Scatter that I feel in my head lately. Honestly, I can't even read a book anymore, and it is with Great Sadness and Terrible Alarm that I confide that to you. Naturally, I'm going to pin all of it on that handy Scapegoat, The Menopause, even though technically, I'm probably done with it. But humour me and let's Go With It, shall we?

Oh, thank you.

~*~THERE'S A DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE. Rick and I were on the way to our Dinner Date (!), and my omnipresent GPS suddenly displayed, ever so helpfully, this:

O-Kay,  I am grateful, however, that this selfsame GPS never had a bout of The Menopause like this as it navigated me past Washington, D.C. (ugh, the Capital Beltway!) or through The Traveler's Oasis (how I hate the Breezewood exchange on the PA Turnpike!). Or any other routes I have driven, so I will forgive it this minor Episode.  (For the record, Road had a name, and we were, in fact actually ON it, not askew between the river and ... whatever.)  Yikes.

~*~HOW SOON WE FORGET. So, I chopped all of my hair off in a fit of boredom and faux bravado. Oh, yes I did--all of it. I have one of those spiky pixy dos and I am now thoroughly disenchanted with it, but oh well. It's not that I dislike it, exactly, but it's a case of "Okay, I did that, so...can it be over now?" Why I didn't read all of my old posts from the last time I cut off my hair, I really don't know. What I should have done is asked my mother, who came right out and told me just a few months ago, when I cut my hair like this

that she didn't like it. I think her exact words were, "Nance! You cut your hair! Why? I guess I just liked it better the other way." For the record, this time, with the pixy, she keeps staring at it and saying, "It's very attractive." I think word got back to her about the last time.
(P.S. Mariska is still on My List.)

~*~WHAT'S IN A NAME? Oh, everything when it comes to my Fantasy Basketball Team. Previously, it has been named the West Egg Gatsbys and then, after a tragically mediocre draft, I renamed it the Puppycats. This year, I'm in mourning after losing Paul George of the Indiana Pacers to a horrific injury (Seriously, don't even watch it when you Google it unless you have a very strong stomach.) during the summer league. I'm trying to decide whether to go back to the original name, keep Puppycats, or get a new name. Last year, I named one of Sam's fantasy football teams The Fluffy Bunnies. He went on to be the most fearsome, most dominant team in the league and won the championship. Imagine the men sitting at home, setting their lineups and saying, "Damn, the Fluffy Bunnies are kicking ass, and I have to play them this week" or "You got the Fluffy Bunnies this week, Craig? Good Luck!" or "I hate those effing Fluffy Bunnies!"

~*~HEY, GREAT JOB! My Maryland buddy Leanne, fabric hoarder and quilter extraordinaire, recently received this confirmation of her shipment of fabric from the Missouri Star Quilt Company. I don't sew at all, but I might drop them a line just to express my admiration for their Wonderfulness. Or to ask for a job. Here, read:

Thanks for your order at the Missouri Star Quilt Company!

We just want to let you know that your quilting supplies have been meticulously gathered, placed on a red velvet pillow, and delicately escorted by 25 of our finest employees to our shipping department. Our master shipper has dutifully performed his craft, lovingly packing your order in the finest materials known to man.

Our team gathered to give your package the proper send-off it deserved. Tears of joy were shed, speeches were given, and there was even a farewell cake. Following the festivities, the whole group, led by our local high school marching band playing the song Leaving on a Jet Plane, ushered your order through downtown Hamilton, Missouri. No, we don't own a Jet Plane, but your package was placed in the care of a roguishly handsome man who is riding in a majestic horse-drawn carriage which is on its way to your home as you read this.

Although the products you've ordered will be sorely missed here at MSQC, we are overjoyed that they have found a good home. Take care of them, treasure them, and when you make something beautiful with them, make sure you share it with us on facebook, twitter, or just send us an email; we love to see what you make!

*Note: the above is a slight dramatization of what actually happened with your order, but seriously, we did ship it, and here is the tracking info:

Holy crap. I want so much to meet that person, that one employee who is making his/her job so much more awesome than it has to be. That person right there is A Difference Maker.

~*~FOLLOW THAT CAR. I'm not a bumper sticker person; I wouldn't put one on my car unless it was an election year and I wanted to make a very specific statement politically. I do enjoy, however, other people's statements on the back of their cars, and I'm entertained by so many of them. Today I was actually moved by one that I saw. I had been listening to NPR's guest, who was giving a very dismal assessment of things in the Middle East, and suddenly, this car pulled ahead of me in the next lane.

I wanted very, very much to believe it, but at the very least, it reminded me that while there are chaos and ugliness in the world, and violence and brutality, so, too are there paintings and literature, sculpture and architecture, poetry and music.  I took a deep breath and changed the station to something lighter and poppier, feeling a twinge of gratitude for the woman in the black Honda Accord.  (Coincidentally, 90.3 is NEO's NPR affiliate station.)  She was, for me, A Difference Maker.

Brainwash

Mariska
thanks to Leanne for the shipment email

This Post Is The By-Product Of NEO's Freezing Temperatures: Doing My Part To Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle

Right this minute, my house is so clean that I am afraid to move in it.  This is what days of frigid temperatures and snow will do:  force me into Domestic Activity.  I even did a few things that were Not Pressing, such as:

1.  Polish a silver tray.
2.  Finally take all of my high heels up to the spare closet.
3.  Update a few pictures in the picture frames.

My fantasy basketball team is falling apart due to injury.  I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that this week, no amount of research and tinkering will get me the win.  My big men are all hurt; my lineups are decimated.  I've decided to take the week off from the NBA.  Instead, I've found all kinds of interesting things on the Interwebs as I try to forget the fact that the West Egg Gatsbys are losers.

1.  I found out that Ferrero Rocher, those lovely chocolate hazelnut candy orbs, exist because the company that manufactures Nutella wanted to do something with the byproducts remaining from making their signature product.

2.  Do you have a cat?  Do you live in New Zealand?  If you answered yes to both of these questions, you might have a problem because NZ is considering a ban on cats.  An economist, Gareth Morgan, is concerned that cats there may wipe out native species of birds and rodents.  He characterizes cats as "neighborhood serial killers."  Sigh.  In my town of 53000 residents, there are supposedly 14000 feral cats.  How anyone arrived at that number (quoted once in an out-of-state publication), I have no idea.  I see the same two or three stray cats every week.  They drive Piper and Marlowe crazy.  The only killing I've seen is when Marlowe killed a mouse from our basement.  I was thrilled.

3.   John Boehner said recently,"Given what we heard yesterday about the president's vision for his second term, it's pretty clear to me that he knows he can't do any of that as long as the House is controlled by Republicans. So we're expecting over the next 22 months to be the focus of this administration as they attempt to annihilate the Republican Party. And let me just tell you, I do believe that is their goal -- to just shove us into the dustbin of history." Wow. He sounds bitter and upset.  But it reminds me of...what was it now?  "Our top political priority over the next two years should be to deny President Obama a second term."--Mitch McConnell.  I'll let My Dear Readers come up with the line for this one.

4.  Does/Should anyone care whether Beyonce lip-synced the National Anthem?  I didn't think so.  There are other things far more worthy of our distress.  Besides, if Aretha says to back off, that's good enough for me.

5.  I found this quote about Aging.  The fact that it came from a goofy article about what happens when hot girls get old, where they mistakenly attributed it to Hunter S. Thompson, dulls it in my esteem (if only it came from Dorothy Parker instead!), but I still like it:

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming 'WOO HOO what a ride!'"

Those who know me know that I cannot even pretend to be the "skidding in sideways" type, but I like the idea of the whole thing anyway. 

6.  Finally, Jared sent me this ridiculously silly viddy clip.  He loves to send me Interwebs Inanity, and this one made me laugh and laugh and laugh.  I hope it gets to you that way, too.

What silly/interesting/fun things do you have to talk about?  And did you laugh at the viddy?

In Which I Leave A Note, Write A List, Have A Laugh, And Make A Plea Against Nevermore

January is over!  Now where did the time go?  Finish taking down those Christmas decorations, (You know who you are!  Honestly, how can you stand yourselves?) and I'll see what little Leftover Thoughtlets are leaping around.

##Here is a note I left for my husband last week when I went out to dinner with one of my ladyfriends:  If Rondo doesn't go, move Iguodala to Rondo's spot at Guard; move Noah up to Forward (Iguodala's spot)!  Sigh. I know, right? On the one hand, some of you are in awe--and rightfully so--at my awesome fantasy roster!  On the other hand, the rest of you are shaking your heads and saying, "Holy crap.  What the hell is wrong with her?" and plotting a massive Virtual Friends Support Network Rescue Project wherein you will each agree to have me live with you for a week until I remember that I should be acting far more loftily and artsy, not worrying over Rajon Rondo's extended wrist injury and the fact that his absence is killing the West Egg Gatsbys' lineup right now.

##How hilarious are the republicans right now?  I know...who?  We have one Serial Adulterer endorsing another (after he inexplicably endorsed "We, The People" on the dais with a real Comedy Channel candidate), and the party that espouses capitalism and big business and tax breaks and keeping your own money is ripping into the candidate who is the Poster Child for all those things.  I don't know about you, but I'm waiting for Michele Bachmann to endorse.  After all, she said God told her to run for political office.  Now, I'm not sure how He felt about her quitting and all--do you think He weighed in on that, or was that totally her call?--but I'd love to hear who He thinks should be President now that He's changed His mind about her.  (Hey, maybe Mitt can use that as an example of why his own flip-flopping is really okay.  Even God is a flip-flopper!  There ya go, Mitt.  You can have that.)

##Marlowe moved to the top of the Most Favoured Cat list.  Admittedly, this is a short list and subject to caprice and fits of snark by its originator.  Earlier this month as Rick was in the shower and I was in the kitchen, she emerged through the cat door from the basement.  She trotted very proudly toward me with something in her mouth.  My eyes grew wide.  I hollered in to Rick, "Rick!  Rick!  Marlowe caught a mouse!"  She had, indeed, caught a very large brown field mouse in the basement.  Good heavens, who am I kidding?  The thing was huge.  And dead. Really, really dead.  Marlowe was so proud, and Piper was mildly interested. Rick finally came out of the bathroom, completely unclothed, and calmly took a paper plate, said, "Okay, Marlowe, I'll take over from here," and took it out to the trash.  I proceeded to lavish treats on the cat and only later did I realize what it all meant:  There was at least one mouse in my home. 

##Nancy, longtime reader and commenter, sent me a terribly sad news item that I wanted to share.  Knowing my fondness for all things Edgar Allan Poe, and my championing for his legacy, she knew that I'd want to know of the apparent end of the Poe Toaster tradition.  This is the third year in a row that the mysterious visitor to the author's grave did not appear with the usual cognac and rose.  That did not move me anywhere near as much as this part of the article did:  "Baltimore recently cut funding for the museum at the rowhouse where Poe lived with relatives from 1832 to 1835, before he found fame as a writer. It must close if it does not become self-sustaining by June."  I find this heartbreaking.  In 1875 a local schoolteacher started a campaign called "Pennies for Poe" in order to fund a dignified and suitable monument for this important writer who was wrongly characterized, vilified by his worst enemy in an obituary and biography which stood as the only sources for this man's life story for a generation.  The Pennies for Poe campaign has been revived on a small scale; I'm saddened that the president of the Poe Society hasn't hit up the big name horror authors who have credited Edgar with inspiring them; perhaps he will. All the same, he sounds like he's given up already.  I'm adding a link to the campaign to my sidebar.  I don't think Baltimore having a football team named the Ravens is enough of a remembrance to Edgar and his legacy.

Now that's a real sports fantasy.

Seeing Double--This Is What You've Driven Me To: The Blogpost Equivalent Of The Gameshow Channel. I Hope You're Happy.

Been a while since I did one of these silly little posts. Seems like it's been tough throughout the blogosphere to generate any interest in anything lately, so I'm going to take it easy and toss off a little cyberfluff.

If you watch Project Runway, you probably sighed a little this week when they let designer hottie Logan go. It was time--he was starting to get all "I think I'm rocker edgy, but really, all I can do is black and sleeveless, and I know I need to mix it up...somehow"--so he made a Judy Jetson waitress outfit. (last outfit shown) That Fashion Don't got him Auf'd. But do not despair! If you need a Quickie Logan Fix, just tune in to House. His twin, Jesse Spencer, works there playing Dr. Robert Chase. Don't believe me? Take a look:


Okay, as if I haven't already put my Sad, Pathetic Television Addiction out there, here's another one. Have you been watching Top Chef Las Vegas? I'm putting my money on chef Kevin Gillespie, who is a very nice guy who can cook, unlike the cutthroat and cyberbot-esque Voltaggio brothers. (Those guys give Sibling Rivalry a whole new meaning.) Anyway, see what you think about this:


There's just NO WAY the guy cannot be merry! His lookalikes star in TWO Christmas specials!

Next, all four of you Dept. readers know of my Breakup with David Gregory. But that has nothing to do with this. I used to laud DG for his bold cravatical choices in the past, especially his unabashed Wearing Of Pink. Lately, however, David has Fallen From Fashion Grace with a bigass thud. I have no idea what has happened. Anyone who still soldiers on and endures Meet the Press knows this is true, and when David appears on The NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, I am forced to reckon with Mr. Gregory's newfound sartorial predilections, which seem to be akin to none other than Bill the Butcher:


Those of you who have been watching with any regularity at all know this to be absolutely true. His propensity for mixing patterns has become a disease. Ugh.

Finally, some of you may be aware of my vast and somewhat uncharacteristic/surprising store of sports knowledge/interest. (Could I use some more backslashes? I'll see.) It's a source of amazement to my students, especially the boys, who see me as a high-heel-wearing chick who wouldn't know the difference between a free throw and a punt. Even I am sometimes a bit regretfully flabbergasted at how many professional athletes I know by sight and how much I know about various aspects of basketball, football, baseball, and their related topics. (Most of it picked up in self-defense, living as I do with three men.) All of which is to say that this last pair doesn't even require you to know Toronto Raptor power forward (that's basketball, by the way) Chris Bosh. Just know that he is who I thought of immediately when my student Jessica B. brought me this souvenir from her band trip in Florida:

Do not tell me you don't see this! Imagine them both pink....Ha!

That's it. I can't do it anymore. I need a drink. Go twit or spacebook or something. Sigh. Not that I am bitter.

DoN Re-Images Professional Sports

I'm not real sporty, but I do enjoy watching some athletic contests; mostly this is out of self-defense, sharing the home as I do with three men. But you all know that I do have a very definite fondness for fashion, and I am just irritated beyond all measure by some of what goes on, sartorially speaking, in the world of sports.

Let me get one sport out of the way right off the bat--how cute, a baseball reference--and that is football. I don't care about it, and they don't have much control over their uniforms. Not much opportunity for individual style there, although I do appreciate the flowing locks of such players as Troy Polamalu sticking out of the backs of their helmets. Other than that, they all look the same: tight jerseys, tight knee breeches, helmets, taped-on shoes. End of review.

Moving on.

The NBA (National Basketball Association) may as well change their name to the NCA--National Culotte Association. How these players can run down the court without a severe case of chafe-rash is beyond me. These men have on the equivalent of what was high fashion for me in the sixth grade when we were not allowed to wear shorts to school, but were able to skirt (!) the dress code by wearing the "shorts which looked like a skirt", the culottes. Look:

Is that ridiculous, or what?

Thank goodness the NB(C)A has eliminated the Ballerina Tights from the legal uniform. This look was popularized by Cleveland's own LeBron James when he had a leg injury and then other players started copying it because it kept their muscles warm and loose and for some, they felt it created a sense of confusion on the hardwood for the opposing players who were trying to pick up their defensive moves. Here it is, in all its fashion horror:

I know. Don't even say it.

At least the NBA coaches dress. They pace the sidelines in suit and tie. And some of them look wonderful. I have always admired Pat Riley for his well-cut suits, and the former coach of (pretty much everybody and) the Cleveland Cavaliers Mike Fratello for his ties.

Actually, let me insert here that the NFL coaches could take a lesson. They stalk the sidelines, some of them (most notably Bill Belichick), in clothes that look like they picked them up off of a frat house floor. What's up with that? I miss the days of Tom Landry, former Dallas Cowboys coach, who always looked dapper and well-dressed and wore the distinctive stroller hat.

Now to Major League Baseball, and let me tell you, I have some issues with these individuals. This league needs to come to a consensus right now, people, about PANTS. Let's decide: are we wearing the pants down, like jammies, or up, like traditional baseball pants? Because if we don't get some consistency soon, we are just out there, people, like a bunch of third-graders playing a pick-up game of stickball. I cannot take it anymore. I mean it! Personally, I like the pants-up look. It's baseball! The Great American Pastime! (Historically, anyway. Everyone knows that now, the Great American Pastime seems to be acting like you are the only one in the world and talking loudly on your cell phone whenever and wherever you like. But I digress.) If we wear the pants down, we might as well be playing golf. Pants up = baseball! Just look:

That's Grady Sizemore and Travis Hafner, both Cleveland Indians.

Okay, finally, golf. This is a sport which has really cleaned up its act, and I would like to think that I had something to do with it. I didn't, of course, but I would really, really like to think that I did. Golfers used to have carte blanche to dress in terrifying plaids and disgusting flat hats and knickers and banlon stockings. (R.I.P. Payne Stewart. I know you tried to be retro and bring this back and it was a bold statement. But it is telling that, in your absence, no one has taken up this Fashion Cause/Risk.) I just wish that the ubiquitous billed hat was not so...ubiquitous. I am so very tired of baseball caps being worn if the wearer is not fielding a grounder or popping up a fly ball. At least Greg "The Shark" Norman wears a different sort of headgear:

I find it refreshing and interesting. And I can definitely get behind a signature look. Tiger Woods, take a lesson.

Finally, in a completely selfish, yet public-service announcement sort of way, here is a picture of the completely unabashedly stylish and cute cheetah-print slingbacks I told you I bought on sale with my son's (the shoe store assistant manager) discount. Many of you asked about them right around the time of my road trip.

Did you note the detail of the black leather button on the sling? I love these. You cannot believe what they do for a black skirt and sweater outfit. Okay, you probably can.