I Really Need to Remember that Wednesday is Late Start

Then I wouldn't be yelling at The Child to get up when she doesn't actually have to.

Not much to report, kids. The job closed...now we just wait to see if Rainey is on the list of candidates. Stupid government hiring. Keep those prayers and naked pagan dances coming.

We went to a concert Saturday night at our friend David and Tine's house. It was awesome. Talented young dude out of Idaho named Marcus Eaton. Sling, you'd really admire his chops. You can actually watch the show we saw on his website. You won't see me. You might hear me clapping and "whooting".

BSG "The Plan" is out on October 27. That's a wonderful thing.

I'm drinking more coffee more often now that it is fall.

I need to make my bed.

I have no idea what we're having for dinner tonight.

I need a pedicure but my hair is awesome.

MAB has been out of the office all week. Geez, I miss her.

"iCarly" is the best show on television. You should watch it even if you don't have a teenage girl in your house.

Looks like Nancy Pelosi has grown a pair and is pushing for a "robust" public option on health care. I smirk a lot when I hear people bitching about that. Especially the ones who I know are receiving government health care. Like Republican congresspeople.

Status Update

• The Spouse is going to his doctor today. He's too late to get the "I was the first case of swine flu in Washington" t-shirt but at least he's going to the doctor.

• I don't have swine flu. Neither does The Child.

• I totally neglected to mention that The Child got a really great hair cut last weekend. I finally convinced her. See, she really isn't much for the maintenance and the longer her hair got the more annoying it was that she didn't do anything with it. It was always a mess. Now she has a haircut that's supposed to look messy. Amazing that you can tell the difference between intentional messy and I-can't-be-bothered messy. But you can.

• Our cat has slain her first rat. She threw it at The Spouse on Saturday...that's how we know. (Hey! Maybe he has rat flu!)

• It's been really, really quiet at work this week. But that's ok because it's given me lots of time to work on the website. It's looking really good.

• I'm going to go wash my hands. Again. Then I think I'll eat some bacon.

Odds & Ends from the Album

I forgot what freaks you people are about hair. Let's get this out of the way.

There'll be more later. That's just going to have to hold you.

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I will tell you something quite truthfully. I'm feeling a little homesick.

I miss Omaha.

I miss my Poodle.

Let's look at this objectively. Let's say I just went to Omaha on an average weekend and let's say there was no "Battlestar", no Minogue (because she was busy), no haircut, no shopping, no dining out, no any of the other going out stuff that happened. Let's say I just went for the weekend and we didn't do anything but hang out in the apartment.

(puts index finger on chin and gets dreamy look on face, considering)

Yep. I'd still be feeling this way. I get this way about other places as well. When someone gets into your heart the place where they are takes on its own kind of magic. The mere mention of, oh, say Chicago or Otown and I suddenly want to be on the Balcony of Terror with Buck or the front porch with Sling. Because these people are my dear friends and even though we are in touch through various means all the time, sometimes you just miss being with a person.

So there.

Here are some random shots left from last Friday night. After the bar JP took me up to the roof of his building to look at the lights. This, btw, is as cosmopolitan as Omaha is ever going to look.

My handsome boy:

My handsome boy getting tired of posing for me:

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I was fascinated by JP's apartment building, which in its first life had been a macaroni factory. I adore macaroni.

Since Omaha was close to the duram wheat supply, the Skinner macaroni plant was one of the leading producers of macaroni and cereal products. During WWI they conserved wheat by making something called "Kornroni", a hybrid corn-wheat product. In 1927 the company introduced "Cheesroni", one of the first efforts at mac & cheese in a box. I'll bet you didn't know that.

But she did:

38,000

For two people who'd been up drinking sipping wine and talking until the wee hours, you'd think JP and I would have been slow to start. You'd be wrong. We dusted off his coffee maker and had some restorative brew. I also have a vague recollection of toast. Then we were out the door because we had things to do.


We had to go to Italy

and visit a shrine to the 12 lords of Kobol and pay homage to the hybrid.

(And those last 2 things won't matter to you because you don't watch "Battlestar Galactica" but we do. Or did).

We had a very tasty quiche at Delice, one of JP's favorite haunts and found a beautiful dress, for me, at Nouvelle Eve. They seem to get a little French in Omaha, actually.


I posed in front of the great blue orb of Omaha and then we had to scamper because JP had arranged for me to get a hair cut, which -as you can see- I badly needed. This also gave me occasion to take some photographs of the lobby of the Paxton Hotel, which used to be a grand place of hostelry and now is mostly business on the ground and apartments above.




A girl can get a very good haircut in Omaha for only $35, btw. Almost reason enough to live there.


I have not mentioned it but there was an undercurrent all day of excitement that teetered between fear and joy. The whole point of my visit, you'll remember, was to watch the series finale of "Battlestar Galactica" and this was the day. So even as we scampered about and joked and talked and shopped and all that, we were mostly doing things like counting down the time and talking about "what"...."what if it breaks our hearts"...."what if it's the best 2 hours on television ever"...."what do you think will happen with..." So many questions remaining and so little time to answer them.


Back at the flat we alternately admired my new do and prepared dinner while watching the "Behind the Scenes" special for BSG. Then the champagn-ya was popped and the moment we'd been simultaneously anticipating and dreading arrived.

There will not be a review because we realize we are the only ones in our neck of Blogtopia who would care and we've already reviewed it for ourselves. Suffice to say we were entertained, surprised and fundamentally satisfied. Except about Kara. What the H?

Moving on.

We were somewhat excitable after the finale so JP decided to show me his "bar", which was not the "bar" I'd always imagined but far more of a "club". Still, there were cosmos and lights in the trees and pool tables. We played 3 games, I think. JP was far superior to me, actually managing to sink intended balls and do so with the sort of skill one associates with Cool Hand Luke some iconic pool hustler. (He claims that I actually used the 1 ball as the cue ball but I deny it. I also, alternatively, suggest to you that yellow can easily read white in night club lighting).

Then something happened. You know how you have those occasional moments of clarity? The times when you realize you are fully present in the moment? Well, I had one there at the Max, over the pool tables while, ironically, listening to Vanessa Hudgens' "Sneakernight". In some way I can barely explain, I plugged back into myself. I had been so stressed and anxious about so much in the last weeks leading up to this trip. Everything was focused on my various roles and the ways in which I was (or deemed myself not to be) fulfilling them. But there I was, bopping to music and shooting pool and drinking cosmos and laughing with one of my best friends ever after watching the end of the greatest show ever on television on a crisp and beautiful night in a place not my home but familiar and suddenly I felt truly myself again. And if nothing else happened for the rest of the weekend that was going to be enough.

How to Amuse a Tired, Grumpy Child

Over the hum of the blow dryer enthusiastically declare, "MAN! I am having such a good hair day!"

The giggles will persist for some time.

Let's Party

This is the 1500th post to this blog. I don't know why that seems like a big deal, maybe just because it's kind of a big number. Of course, considering that 3/4 of my posts have been pure piffle of one sort or another, it's not like it's a huge achievement but it seems like the blogger equivalent of a show's 200th episode or something. And you know my motto, any excuse for a party. There will be a special guest appearance by Alan Thicke
and cameos from the entire cast of "Scrubs".
After almost 3 years I'm still having fun blogging, mostly, I think, because of all y'all, the friends I've met. I'm happy that so many of you have become (or are about to become) "real" friends but you all bring a special little something to my life. When I started this enterprise I had absolutely no expectation of that and it's worth celebrating.

So I've hired a caterer and there's an open bar, although you're welcome to bring a favorite dish if you'd like. There will be pony rides out back and a dunk tank. Come on over.

Oh, and I brought my bangs.

On the Mend

I'm quite sure it was all your good wishes that have brought me back from the brink. Word was received today that 95% of the production force in my Phlegm Factory has been outsourced to China.

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Oh wow! I can breathe again. And...what's this? The door to the Wonk Center of my brain just became unstuck....

There's a Meez animation that lets your character jump around while holding Barack Obama on your shoulder. I was so going to use that today. Until I realized that it also includes drop kicking Hillary Clinton. That seemed a little mean. I don't want to drop kick her. Slap her, sometimes, yeah, but not drop kick her.

Update: the whole "drop kicking" thing apparently is just when you first dress the Meez. Because this is just cute and non-mean, don'tcha think? (I just did this for Hat. Carry on). So, about Indiana. Spin from the Clinton camp will tell you that a win is a win. Math, which is far less prone to manipulation, will tell you that a 2% victory means she gets 41 delegates and Obama gets 38. Overall, he's still leading by every mathematical formula. He's even closed the gap on declared superdelegates to a mere 6. Trust. I'm willing to bet that within the next few weeks we'll see him pull even in that count, if not move ahead.

Her electability argument is waning; the numbers simply don't support it. And, if I were in the Clinton camp, I would definitely move off the message that the blue collar/white male "base" supports her more. For why? Democrats haven't won the blue collar/white male vote for over 30 years. Doesn't matter what they might be doing in the primary...that "base" is all but nonexistent come the general election. Any Democratic candidate is going to have to try and convince that bloc to vote their economic interests. And whenever he/she does, the GOP is going to charge in and remind them that the Dems want to take away all their guns and make them live next door to married homosexuals. And they'll freak. Like they always do. Point is, if that's all she's got, it ain't much.

Which is why she's ramping up the argument for the "disenfranchised" voters in Michigan and Florida.

Let's be clear about something. If anyone "disenfranchised" the voters in those states, it was their own party officials. Here's how it works: the DNC sets the election schedule. States vote in the order the national party determines. Period. Michigan and Florida decided to jump the gun. The party said "don't do it or your delegates won't be seated". They did it anyway and then have the temerity to cry foul. I guess I'm looking at this like a parent, but if I tell The Child she has to do something or else and she doesn't do it, it's my job to impose the "or else". If I don't, not only does she not learn her lesson relative to personal responsibility, she also gets the idea that I don't mean what I say. In my view, the party should stick with their "or else" and not seat those delegates. Why? Because if Florida and Michigan can break party rules without consequences, what's to keep any state from following party rules next time? Especially after this election. Hell, Indiana's primary hasn't mattered since 1964. You don't think they didn't love all the attention last night? What's to keep Pennsylvania from wanting to be the new Iowa?

If I were head of the DNC I'd be telling the state chairs to suck it up. They screwed up. And if the Democrats in those states had any sense, they'd be calling for the heads of their party leadership for putting them in this situation. But at the end of the month the Rules Committee is meeting to settle the matter. Florida is easier: both candidates were on the ballot and delegates could just be apportioned accordingly. Clinton won Florida but including those delegates doesn't put her ahead. Michigan is more problematic because Clinton was the only name on the ballot. She's suggested that Obama can have the "Other" votes and she'll take hers. She's generous like that. Personally, I think a revote is the only way to go there, but sounds like no one is excited about that possibility. I think she's afraid she could lose some delegates, I think he's afraid that somehow people in Michigan blame him for the kerfuffle. (A Clinton supporter actually tried to insinuate that last night on CNN. And promptly got stomped on. That would be a terribly, terribly disingenuous position for the Clinton camp to take).

Bottom line, even if delegates from both states are seated and even if Clinton gets the majority of them, the margins are not large, which means he'll get almost as many delegates as she does. And since he's already up by 155, it's still not going to put her in the lead.

Meanwhile, what in the world is John Edwards going to do with his 19 delegates? He's been sitting on those since, what?, February? What is he thinking and more to the point, why isn't anyone else asking that question? Is he waiting to release them to the first person who promises to make him Attorney General? Of course, releasing those delegates doesn't mean anything one way or the other. They'd be free to commit to whoever they wanted; although, I'd make the assumption that the majority of them would go to Obama because I think his positions are more in line with Edwards than Clinton. But I could be wrong about that. Still, it's a puzzlement.

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The worst thing about this cold has been that food doesn't taste good. For me, that's like, like some kind of really bad thing for which I'm suddenly incapable of producing an example. I'm not sure that was even a cogent sentence. Dinner should be really yummy tonight, is my point.

Oh, and I gave myself bangs last night. I think it makes me look younger.

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Oh, ok, fine. But I only did this for the Hat. Because it's her birthday month. And from the looks of it, the whole "drop kicking Hillary" is just for "fun" when you first dress your Meez. Because obviously this is just me and Barack having a good ol' time.

A Couple of Things

The Spouse called me this a.m. to announce that "Fortune Hunters won the award for best short @ SIFF. That is so superfantastic. Congratulations to Thom and Mike and all the cast 'n crew. Well deserved. Consider it a preview of your Oscar win after the short grows up and becomes a feature.

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The Child got a new hair cut this weekend. She has never been one for "doing" her hair and it's been more and more maddening. The line between obsession with one's looks and not caring a bit is very broad. I've been nudging her toward some comfortable place in the middle, a place that involves at least dragging a brush through the thatch once in a while.

But her new do suits her very well and more to the point, she absolutely loves it. And has been caught brushing her hair several times a day since Saturday. Huzzah!

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Friday night was the Spring Concert. The 7th grade was going to be dancing at the top of the program and I'd arranged with The Child that we were going to split as soon as they were done. (By the time your kid is in 7th grade you really don't need to see any more performances by little tiny cute things that aren't yours lisping their way through "Don't Worry, Be Happy").

Well, she called in the afternoon to say that The Principal had decided that some of the acts for the school talent show also needed to perform and asked The Child to be one of them. Crap.

Not only did I not want to stay through the entire show but I get very nervous when The Child performs solo. It's not that I'm ashamed of her. I admire her moxie. And she's not a bad singer. Oh, when she was wee she had more enthusiasm than tunefulness, but carrying a tune is something that can be learned and in her years of musical training she's made friends with pitch. And she stays on it 7 or 8 times out of 10. But it is still nerve-wracking as a mom because you want them to do well and you can't help but worry that they won't.

The talent piece began. 2 8th graders did an amazing dance-off: Irish step dancing versus tap. It was a little slice of Riverdance and it rocked. They coulda stopped the show right there. But no. Then another 8th grader, with a very nice voice sang an a capella number. Then a kid did mouth music. (OK, not a skill I see taking him places but then, I love the 80s).

A band of 7th graders took the stage, including The Princess, a girl in The Child's class for whom I bear no affection whatsoever. All I could think was that she was going to rock, being perfection embodied and all that, and the poor Child was going to have to follow her.

The bass started. Very fuzzy, but pretty good. Then the guitar came in. I don't know what he was playing, but it bore no relationship to the bass line. Then Princess started to sing "Driftaway". Badly. Really, really badly. No spirit, no facial expression (too cool for that), and absolutely no tune. Then a boy began to sing with her, also very badly. And then they started to rap. Which was a blessing, only because they didn't need to be tuneful. I sat there quietly, next to a teacher, with ears bleeding.

Then the teacher leaned over to me and said, "It's too bad this isn't being videotaped to be shown later...like when she brings home a boyfriend from college".

Yay! It wasn't just me. I leaned over and whispered, "Well, the good news is, I'm a lot less nervous about my own kid singing now". And the teacher laughed.

The band kept going, oblivious to their dreadfulness. How dreadful? If Tunefulness walked up to Princess and slapped her with a road map she still wouldn't have been able to locate the neighborhood of the pitch. Nails on a chalkboard have a more soothing effect.

They finished, raggedly, to polite (and I think, relieved) applause.

Then The Child got up. She did this little number from, what else?, "High School Musical":

She wasn't half bad. She was singing along to the CD which, because it had the vocal track,was being played softly. So softly even The Child had trouble hearing it. (Yes, I told her weeks ago to use the karaoke disk that she has). So there were a few places that went a little flat. But mostly, she got it right. Not to mention that she looked adorable and even managed some expression. It was really dark and my flash stinks so this is the best I could do photo-wise, but then, I think it's kinda arty looking.

Anyway, she left the stage to much more spirited applause and came right up to me with a "Let's get outta here". On the way to the car I complimented her performance and then she said, "Well, I know I was better than Princess. And Mom, when I sing in the talent show, I think I should use the karaoke disk".

Brilliant idea! Why didn't I think of that?

Mutimedia Thursday

I have a new look. My hair is getting really long, which is very exciting to me. I colored it over the weekend, going with more of a cocoa brown thing than what I've been sporting. I hate styling my hair, mostly because I never really learned how, so I bought some hot rollers to make things easy on myself. My hair has a lot of body and if I'm not careful, the curling action gives me very big astronaut's wife hair. But when the curls are just so (usually after I've slept on them), I get this kind of Laura Roslin* thing going on. It's awesome.


You may address me as Madame President.

*Laura Roslin, President of the 12 Colonies on "Battlestar Galactica", in case you didn't know.

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Wednesday has become movie night around here. Last night we watched "The Lake House". It's a quiet little romance starring Sandra Bullock, or as The Spouse likes to call her, The Child's New Mommy. She teams up with "Speed" co-star Keanu Reeves who, let's be honest, has all the acting range of a cat but I like him anyway.

The story is about 2 people who meet and develop a relationship by writing to each other while living in the same house. The catch is that she lives in it in 2006 and he lives there in 2004. There were a lot of things to like about this movie but what I enjoyed the most is that it is a perfect example of "suspension of disbelief". The point of the story isn't that they don't inhabit the same space-time continuum. Love, it would seem, conquers all. What's cool is that there is no attempt to explain the time glitch. There is no mystery about it, no one tries to understand it. It just is. And the viewer is invited to ignore this niggling little point as well and to just watch as these two make the connections they need to make and understand what they need to understand - about themselves and their choices - in order to finally be together. It was charming and simple and sweet. I liked it way better than "Brokeback Mountain".

out of 5.

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Just for fun, if you haven't seen this clip, it's worth the watch. I don't exactly know why I find it so uplifting and charming, but I do.

Tuesday Things

The Child went off to school today, perfectly perky and feeling very spunky about her new hair style and the fact that she starts Debate Club this afternoon. Debate Club: likely the most perfect extracurricular activity for my child. Because Lord knows she has some innate skills in this department. I like to think that the rigor of critical thinking and preparing for debates will actually turn her power for good instead of evil. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I had my misgivings yesterday about letting her stay home. One can never be 100% sure that one is not being played. But the fact is, we were all wiped out. I took a 3 hour nap yesterday. (I was intending just to sack out for 30 minutes. Not so much). The Spouse was dragging when he got home from work. Hence, I felt less guilty. In fact, I didn't feel guilty at all. Plus, she spent some time on the computer with "educational" software and we learned how to convert integers into binary. That's going to come in handy.

In the afternoon she had perked up enough to announce, "I want to bake something". This is always good news. I can bake and do so on occasion. I very much enjoy consuming baked goods. But I don't love baking as much as cooking so I'm glad she got that gene.

She has mastered a recipe from a children's cookbook for what is called "Cinderella Cake". I do not like Cinderella Cake. It is nasty. It is essentially a waste of good butter and eggs. But in baking it numerous times The Child has mastered fundamental cake principles. So yesterday I gave her Pat Wells' At Home in Provence (my favorite cookbook on the planet) and had her take a stab at Winemaker's Cake. (We still have a few pounds of grapes left on the vines). And then I took my nap.

I awoke to the heavenly scent of baking cake. The Child, meanwhile, was knee deep in mixing bowls and whisks. A light dusting of flour lay over the kitchen. But she was happily cleaning up her mess. We differ in this regard. I am a clean-as-you-go sort of chef. I don't like being surrounded by pots and messes and empty olive tins. Generally, by the time we sit down to a meal, the kitchen is as tidy as it was when I began. The Child takes after her father in her cooking approach, operating on an apparent philosophy which states that if you haven't used every mixing bowl we own then you are doing something wrong. But so long as I don't have to clean up the mess, I have no complaints.

And the cake is delicious. "Do you think this would be good for breakfast?" she asked. Yes, yes it would.

Patricia Wells' Winemaker's Grape Cake

2 large eggs, at room temperature
2/3 c. sugar
4 T. unsalted butter, melted
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 c. whole milk
1/2 t. pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 t. baking powder
pinch of salt
grated zest of 1 lemon
grated zest of 1 orange
10 oz. small, fresh purple grapes*
confectioners sugar for garnish

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Generously butter and flour a nine inch springform pan, tapping out excess flour.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a whisk, beat the eggs and sugar until thick and lemon-colored, about 3 minutes. Add the butter, oil, milk and vanilla and mix until blended

Sift the flour, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. Add the lemon and orange zest and toss to coat the zest with flour. Spoon the mixture into the bowl of batter and stir with a wooden spoon until thoroughly blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix once more. Set aside for 10 minutes to allow the flour to absorb the liquids.

Stir about 3/4 of the grapes into the batter. Spoon the batter into prepared cake pan and smooth out the top with a spatula.

Place pan in the center of the oven. Bake for 15 minutes, then sprinkle the top of the cake with the remaining grapes. Bake until the top is a deep golden brown and the cake feels quite firm when pressed with a fingertip, about 30 minutes more, for a total baking time of 55 minutes. Remove to a rack to cool. After 10 minutes, run a knife along the sides of the pan. Release and remove the side of the springform pan, leaving the cake on the pan base. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar just before serving.

*Ms. Wells is happy to use grapes with seeds in them which provide what she calls a "rustic crunch". I say, "Eeww". Our grapes are seedless so I don't have to worry about that. Seedless grapes work just fine, is my point.