Mr. and Mrs. Miller

Below is a list of things that are probably really funny to anyone not married to my husband:

• When I asked him the other night if I had taken too much of the cover the night before, he said, "no, I don't use it. I get too hot." To which I said, "well, I woke up with a lot of the sheet, were you cold?" and he said "no, no...I was fine. Besides, you always give me a lot of sheet."
  (if you must, read the last sentence aloud. And then proceed to giggle uncontrollably...as he did.)
• Yesterday morning I made a reference to the fact that he was taking care of me because I was carrying his child. He then said, "well of course. I have to take care of the container."
  As in...carrier for Chinese food, or something that holds crayons...or...a ship.
  
• And finally, after waking up on 2 consecutive mornings with nosebleeds, I begged for a table top humidifier so that I may no longer gush blood from the head. This was what arrived via UPS yesterday:

And now...something that would be funny if you were not married to me:

• While golfing in my husband's annual work scramble this week, I noticed that there were different markers from which you could tee off, decreasing in distance. I asked about them. My husband said, "well, the white markers are from where most men tee off, the closer red ones are where the women tee off and the closer silver ones are for the senior citizens." I then looked at him and said "so you really should have been playing from the silver ones all along."
  

We really do love each other. Really.

Teaching an Old Dog

And by old dog, I do not mean my lovely husband who weighs in at a whopping 10 years older than me...I mean me, myself, and I. All three of us. And none of us ever figured this out in 2+ years of Netflix use.

Setting: living room last Wednesday night (we have the Netflix plan that only allows 1 rental at a time so I've cleverly deduced that if we receive and watch a movie on Wednesday night and ship it back on Thursday morning, then we will get another one on Saturday...thus allowing 2 movies per week! Unless there's a holiday on a Saturday or my stupidity gets in the way. Read on...). At the moment, I'm getting ready to stick the DVD back in the envelope.

Neal: Whoa! Make sure you put it in the right way!
Me: Yeah, yeah whatever. Right way, schmight way.
Neal: No, there is a right way.
Me: What are you talking about? It's a freakin DVD. You just stick it in and seal it up!
Neal: No, the barcode has to show through the window so it will go through their system properly. It comes in, they scan it, it moves on.
Suddenly, a 450-watt lightbulb alights directly over my head. Sometimes Netflix doesn't register our Saturday movies until Wednesday morning, which means we don't get another one until Thursday, thus throwing off my entire master plan (and making me throw the finger at 'the man' in the process). Usually, that happens when I'm the one to stick it in, seal it up, and toss it in the mailbox.
Me: Oh, right. Huh.
I just got an email from Netflix. It looks like we can be expecting our next installment of The Tudors on Saturday morning. ;)

Culture on demand

Dear Insight Cable:
I am guessing that when you installed the On Demand feature on your cable boxes, that you did so thinking it would be a wicked success. And for those who want to pay $3.99 per movie, it is also very convenient. But we already give you a large check signed in blood every month, so we will not be paying extra for any movies. However, this week our DVR had a new experience - it became jobless. It cried a little, had a strong drink, and now it's just patiently waiting for summer to be over so that it can go back to work. In the meantime, I decided to see what I could find On Demand, in the free spot that is. There are some kids' shows, several nature shows, a few history shows, the military channel and FearNet which runs movies like Bram Stoker's Dracula (which hasn't been scary to me since middle school and only then it was because filmmakers weren't so loose with the fake blood as they are now). I did eventually find the complimentary movies. Oh excitement!! As soon as I saw the word Sundance I knew it was going to be bad. So, thank you Insight Cable for attempting to broaden our horizons but I do not need movies that are originally in Cantonese but with English sub-titles. Nor do I need movies that are originally in Japanese with no sub-titles. We get plenty of culture from our chosen Netflix movies - I've even seen Trainspotting. I appreciate you looking out for our best interests and while I realize that many people do not ever cross the Kentucky state lines, we are not those people. So please kindly replace each of those with something more interesting...like Patch Adams or Twelve Angry Men...or anything with Anthony Hopkins.
Thank you

Because we are F-A-M-I-L-Y

Dear Halcomb/Mason Gene Pool:
I have a bone to pick with you. Yesterday morning as I was shaving my legs in the shower, I noticed something. There were the usual team of dimples, exactly where they have always been since sometime after college graduation and the tiny red lines that jut out from the creases on the side of my knees. However, there is now a congregation of blue lines that are much larger and cover a vast space behind my knees...yes, both of them. If I happen to figure out which interstate they most resemble, I'm sure to be rich and famous. I will make lots of money from Rand McNally and GPS systems will include the backs of my legs in their annual map updates. I know that I can only blame this on my genes. I have seen the legs of the women in my family and I know that I am destined for vein clinics and pants. So to my gene pool I would just like to say "thanks a freakin lot!! Had the Ghost of Ropey Veins Future come to visit, I would have bought every miniskirt this side of the Mississippi before my time ran out. I would have worn Daisy Dukes every day, even in frozen months. But nooooo....you just had to let me find this out on my own. Should broom skirts happen to fall back into fashion, it would serve you right!"

On a somewhat related note, I bought a shirt at Sam's Club yesterday. Actually, I should say I bought a shirt again at Sam's Club. I already own this shirt, but in a cream color. I really love it - it's lightweight and hides the accruing baby fat, so I bought another...in blue. So, to that I say:
Dear Granny,
You would be so proud. I now have 2 of the EXACT same shirt..just different colors. Seeing as I am doing this at the youthful age of 30, I suspect that by the time I reach my mother's age, I will actually own an entire wardrobe of 4 pieces. And the question of nature vs. nurture remains unanswered...

The Devil Went Down to Chicago

Remember Queen Elizabeth in Chicago? Well she is an excellent resource for reading material. She had been suggesting The Devil in the White City for some time and as things tend to happen, there it sat on the bookshelf of the beach house we rented last month. Of course, I didn't notice it until the night before we left, but I got halfway through the first chapter - enough to think that yes, maybe, this could be a good choice. So, I ordered it from my bookclub when we got home and just finished it yesterday morning. As promised, here is a brief history of the World's Fair and some fun Chicago World's Fair facts (since no one reading this was around in 1893 to experience them...and if you were, perhaps you should consider moving to Forks, WA).

World's Fairs started in Europe, hosted mainly by cities like Paris, London and Vienna. In 1876, however, it made the big jump across the pond to Philadelphia. I guess they figured we had kind of earned it, considering our ability to build a nation, we could probably handle a few big shiny buildings and parking. Typically there is a theme, ranging from the very broad (Transportation, theme from the Vancouver Expo in '86) to the much more specific (Leisure in the Age of Technology, theme from the Brisbane Expo in '88...which sort of sounds like overcompensation to me. I have no idea where Brisbane is and then they have to have this elaborate theme. Vancouver, on the other hand, went with simple and everyone knows where Vancouver is. Take a lesson, Brisbane). And world expositions are meant to do 3 things: present new inventions, facilitate cultural exchange based on a theme, and to brand a city, region or nation. And the third was the most important reason for Chicago to win the bid for the World's Fair of 1893...specifically to win it over New York City.

Chicago was considered a pig-butchering town and was best known for its stockyards. I've been to Chicago more times than I can count and the very last thing I would think of is stockyards, so I would say that Chicago was wildly successful in its city-branding. Michigan Avenue and an excellent art museum, yes...but stockyards, no. The legacy of the Chicago World's Fair of 1893 includes:

• An inspiration for L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz (apparently, St. Louis was not the vision for the Emerald City)
• Walt Disney's father, Elias, had built some of the buildings for the "White City" and thus The Happiest Place on Earth was born, complete with screaming children and parents on the edge of divorce.
  
• George Washington Ferris created the impossible...a wheel that held 36 carts and over 1000 people. And it actually turned. And it saved the fair from bankruptcy. It was meant to out-Eiffel the Eiffel Tower.
  
• Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show raked in the money. Unfortunately, poor Buffalo Bill died penniless. Bad investments will get you every time. Just ask the Madoffs.
  
• Most of the buildings of the "White City" are gone, but the last 2 standing now house the Field Museum of Natural History and the Art Institute of Chicago (remember what I was saying about an excellent art museum?).
  
• The fair was illuminated by Westinghouse's alternating current. And then there was light....
• And we had the introduction of Cracker Jack, Shredded Wheat, Juicy Fruit, Cream of Wheat, Aunt Jemima, the quarter and the half-dollar, ragtime music, hula dancers, and the hamburger. All of these have survived since 1893 and Shredded Wheat has a nice little commercial now that reminds you of this.
  

Having not heard of any recent World's Fairs, I thought they had simply died out. Too little money, too much competition between great minds (I mean, imagine if you will, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and the Google guy all sitting down for a cognac and discussing the next great invention...not the 3 next great inventions. It's hard to wrap your mind around, yes?). But, no! The most recent expo was in Zarazoga in 2008. Apparently, that's in Spain. I'm pretty sure even CNN missed the coverage on that one. Brian Williams missed the boat, too. The next one, in 2010, is in Shanghai (yes, thank you, I think I'll pass). And then 2015 is in Milan (a definite maybe). It will not, unfortunately, return to the US anytime in the foreseeable future. What I wonder though, is what new inventions are being presented at these fairs if they aren't even being covered by the press? I mean I have friends that take off the day of Apple's big unveilings and yet not even a blurb on the NY Times about inventions at the fair. I like the idea of a World's Fair. It seems very inclusive...like we are all holding hands and standing around a globe. Yet, somehow I don't think we'll be inventing anything to ship off to Shanghai.

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

I was literally in the middle of reading an article on the NY Times website about the health care debacle when I had to stop and write this blog entry. I am confused by mobs at town hall meetings, name-calling in the media, and violent bursts toward other Americans. The good news about Obama? He has incited passion in this country. In the past, we have become something of a malaised and apathetic country. Yeah government was out of control and our debt was astronomical, but what were we going to do about it?? We, the people, had lost touch with our government. Well, no more. Suddenly, we are determined to make our voices heard...apparently through 2 feet of concrete walls at times. And the bad news about Obama? Well, he has polarized this nation something fierce. Or perhaps we've polarized ourselves. Either way, you either love his politics or you hate them...there is not a lot of middle ground. We all agree that Michelle has fantastic arms (with no jell-o swingin' from underneath that keeps on waving long after you've stopped. Don't we all want that in life?) and that his 2 daughters are J. Crew-cute. But it is about the man himself that everyone in this nation seems to have some sort of opinion. It is, for me, a fascinating phenomenon. And apparently that passion and emotion that he has stirred has lead to completely irrational and inexcusable behavior - from everyone (read: it's not just the republicans). These health care town meetings are just one example. I mean, does anyone else feel like we've time-warped back to Winston-Salem circa 1690 (plus the 24-hour news cycle and political pundits, of course)? My solution? Serve a little wine and just a tiny bit of pot and watch the country come together! I can see it now: This Town Hall Meeting Brought to You by Beringer and the University of Kentucky Ag Department. And wear some flowers in your hair....

Julia, Julie, and Harvey

Last weekend, I had a bit of a movie marathon. It always ends up like that when Neal drills because, really, what else am I going to do? I mean I could be productive but when the cat is away...and all of that. So, for the first time since high school, I went to see a movie during its premier weekend, but of course that was merely by accident. I saw Julie and Julia. I like to cook and I like to try out new and impossible recipes, usually ending with gorgonzola on the ceiling and me crying in the middle of the kitchen floor eating chocolate chips out of the bag. So, what's not to love about a movie revolving around Julia Child's life?

I don't ever remember watching Julia Child's cooking show on TV. Before my time, as they say. (And I must say that it's alarming how many shows I watched that I thought were new, but as it turned out, they had been in syndication for several years. Oh, Mr. Ed...I'm so disappointed). My mother can get a little misty-eyed over it as she does remember and even attempted a Julia Child-recipe or two. She has stories of how Mrs. Child used to lead naked and raw chickens in a salmonella-streaked dance across the counter and all I can think is danger, danger! Grab the clorox! But then, my generation is a little different in that germ and safety sort of way. What I did not miss was Dan Akroyd's interpretation of Julia Child on SNL (back when SNL was something that you would force yourself to stay up for because it was just that good - and the cast was on a lot of street drugs). His voice, his gestures, his squirting of 2 pints of blood between his index and middle fingers...all something to be remembered. And so there I sat in a dark movie theater learning all about Julia Child and her life with her bald but impossibly romantic husband and cooking in Paris. I will not ruin it for you, but do go see it, and if you come out of there without wanting to make a crepe or something with a lot of beef...well chances are then that you do not actually own any pots or pans.

Next up was Harvey Milk. I believe this rounded out the Netflix list of memoirs put to film, much to my husband's relief. I'm probably one of the few who will read a book or watch a movie simply because it is about someone else's life. I find it inspirational but most find it too much like life, too little like escapism (which is well worth the $9 plus $120 for popcorn and a coke). Harvey changed the world for the betterment of human rights. You could get all caught up in exactly who he chose to take home at the end of the night, Victor or Victoria...but really it's about all of us. After all, you have to draw the line in the sand somewhere otherwise you lose your civil rights because your ancestors came from China or you have 7 kids. So, way to go, Harvey. I know you were smiling down on the project (oops..well you find out in the first 30 seconds of the film that he's dead...unless you've already googled him).

I'm finishing up The Devil in the White City and I will have all sorts of fun World's Fair facts to share...because really, in this harsh economic time, what we really need is a World's Fair. And more love, of course. And then back into fiction world...unless Neal finishes The Nine and I get to lose myself in the inner workings of the Supreme Court.

Trapped in the Twilight Zone

Last Tuesday, it rained. All day. Animals in two's were looking for the mother ship and I was watching all of our mulch in the new landscaping wash into the city sewer system. Both were a little depressing so I decided to read. All day. Neal happened to be home that day working and to my shock and awe, he actually worked. I read Twilight. Ahh...Twilight. I swore up, down, and diagonally twice that I would never read this book. I have a friend who lives by the opinion that if a book is popular, she will not bother to read it. When she discoved that she was reading a pre-Oprah's book club copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, I thought she would throw herself from the perfectly good cruise ship we were on. This is how I feel about Twilight. But while on vacation last month, my aunt thrust it into my hands and said, "here, you try. I didn't get past chapter 1." Well, I do love a challenge.

The back jacket of Twilight reads: "About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him - and I didn't how dominant that part might be - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him." (And if that ruins the book for you, then..uh..perhaps you shouldn't read the back cover). So I shall add my own list.

After reading this book, about three things I am absolutely positive. First, Bella apparently smells really good to a vampire. Second, Edward must be very beautiful and by beautiful, I don't mean rugged-Bratt-Pitt-fresh-off-a-movie-in-Mexico-beautiful. I mean so beautiful that even when I google "beautiful men" I can find nothing that compares. And third, according to this book, Bella is so clumsy that walking is a miraculous feat for her. (Again, if that ruins the book for you, then you haven't read the first chapter. Even my aunt got that much).

So, I read this 498 page book in one day. I'm not an editor so just assume that either a) there are lots of pictures (which there are not) or b) the sentence structure is something similar to what my 4-year old cousin strings together on a daily basis. I would be offended if this book was on any reading list when I was in high school. In fact, I'm sure that most people would not actually be able to switch to James Joyce after this book. You would have to end the school year with this when everyone's brains are basically applesauce. I do not consider myself a scholarly reader by any means, but I enjoy having to look up words when I'm reading. That didn't happen. Not once. Not even close. And when I finished that book and started reading Devil in the White City about the World's Fair in Chicago in 1893 (which I do HIGHLY recommend), I almost gave myself a migraine with all of the concentration I had to give. Luckily, I'm pretty much back to normal.

Having said that, I am so stupidly hooked on this series that I feel like I can't get the needle out of my arm. No, I did not rush right out and get New Moon, but it is on my list. I refuse to buy it, but if it appears somewhere for free, I will read it. The good news is, all I need is one rainy day to get through it. The bad news? Addictions are nothing but Trouble.

Hooked on Phonics Worked for Us

We have 2 cats: Poppy, a domestic shorthair (a breed so common that she felt she had to do something to stand out - so she gained about 12 pounds. It worked. She stands out, or uh wide I should say) and LuLu (the feline answer to a chihuahua). Poppy doesn't have any trouble finding a place to get comfy: the top of your shoes, draped across the printer, hanging off the end of a desk...anywhere suits her fine..and typically not more than 2 feet from where her last spot was. LuLu, however, must circle the spot, smell the spot, knead the spot, sit down for no more than 4 seconds and then repeat the process. And sometimes she will sink her back claws into the spot just to check for optimum cushiness. Obviously, this behavior lands her in the floor when the spot she has chosen happens to be my husband's lap. Last night, though, in a strange display of calm she stepped down from the back of the couch onto my husband's shoulder, stepped down from his shoulder onto his forearm and then draped herself across his forearm. She looked up once, breathed a heavy sigh and laid her head down. I was shocked. That was it. Age must be getting to her. My husband said, "like a terrorist. On the hillside." Wow, apparently, he had gone into Reserves mode already and he wasn't even leaving for Ft. Knox for another 12 hours or so. So, I say to him, "um, yeah. Although you're the only person I know who would jump straight to Afghanistan when talking about my cat." And then...The Look.

Husband: WHAT are you talking about??
Me: Terrorist...on a hillside...Afghanistan. Y'know..just kind of weird. Are you feeling OK?
Husband: I didn't say anything about a terrorist on a hillside...
Me: Yes, I just heard you...you said she was like a terrorist on a hillside - and that's just like Afghanistan, right?? So...
Husband: (after some giggling and a tiny bit of eye-rolling) I said 'it's like a terraced hillside'....good grief!!!
Me: Oh right...well they sound EXACTLY the same!!
Husband: Whatever, just know that it was your mind that went there, not mine!
So obviously it's time to candle my ears again. And maybe stop thinking about Afghanistan so much.

The Evolution of Goodwill

And no, I don't mean goodwill in the sense of Angelina Jolie adopting as many orphan babies as she can to dress in satin and drag to award shows...nor am I referring to goodwill in the sense of Oprah building a school in a dusty and devastated African village (only to be called back a short while later to defend the behavior occurring within). I am speaking of goodwill as in Goodwill, Industries Inc.

I have been shopping at Goodwill ever since the days of ramen noodles and low-budget apartment decorating in college. In my less glorious days, I even brought home a couch or two, after stopping by Kroger on the way back to rent a steam cleaner for, well for as long as it took. And my "secret" Goodwill was the one in the Hartland neighborhood, where all of the drivers of Lexuses and BMW's dropped off their secondhand goods. I thought I was on to something. A pair of pants for $2.50? What a deal! Ten workout t-shirts for $10? What a steal! (I have no idea who Razenski was, but I wore his baseball shirt for a summer of spinning classes). I have worn cotton billboards for all sorts of sporting teams, charities, and churches - all for less than if I had bought that shirt from the original team, charity, or church. It's a win-win!

But I knew that my world was colliding with an unseen force when my mom, a driver of her very own Lexus, pranced out of the bedroom one morning and said "how do you like my new shirt? I got it at Goodwill!" Uh, what?? You mean, you bought it at Eddie Bauer and was getting ready to donate it to Goodwill but then thought better of it?? No, she assured me. It had really come from Goodwill. I was about to pass out. I should be thrilled that others more fortunate than me were seeing the good and willing to give it a shot. But really I just thought, but the wealthy have the same taste in clothes, decor, purses as me and they will come buy them all up (because honestly, there were some weeks that I had to put that purse off until the next paycheck, even though it was priced at a staggering $4.50). I mumbled something about how nice her shirt was and vowed to pay closer attention to my fellow shoppers the next time I rummaged through my friendly neighborhood store.

And it was true. It was happening. More Volvos in the parking lot - and not to just drop off the bedroom decor from a daughter gone to college. They were buying things. They weren't trying anything on mind you, but then that's the price of privilege. It doesn't fit? Oh well, I'll just add it to my bag of Goodwill stuff to donate. And isn't that the very definition of defecating where you eat? You should not be shopping at the same place where you take everything you deem unworthy to even sell in a yard sale or give to your closest friends. And then I saw the most unusual event take place - a woman pulled up to the Boston Road Goodwill in a Mercedes, got out, walked in, looked around for about 15 minutes, and then walked up to the counter and purchased a mattress set. Yes, a mattress set. Ewwwww!!!! I'm not sure how you would even go about cleaning a mattress set but all I can say is bedbugs, lady, bedbugs! If they have them at the Ritz-Carlton in New York City, then that set you just bought probably isn't sparkling clean, either. So, of course, my mind goes to work on why she would do such a thing. And my decision is: she just married a wealthy doctor (or lawyer, neurosurgeon, or computer genius) and she has acquired a very moody, very hormonal, very aggressive teenager for a stepson. Said stepson needs a place to sleep in their new mansion out in Hamburg. And she has promised her husband as he rushed out to do brain surgery that she would see to it that he had a boxsprings and mattress by the end of the day! Mattress set for angry new stepson? Check! It's the only way this scenario makes any sense.

I heart Goodwill. I really, really do. They employ what many consider to be the less desirable employees and they provide an invaluable service (I mean, it is because of Goodwill that our landfills aren't worse than they are right now. Goodwill has always been our ultimate recycling plan). But this new phenomenon of hitting Macy's, hitting Starbucks, making a stop at Pottery Barn and rounding out the day with Goodwill still befuddles me. I'm sure the detergent and bleach corporations are thrilled, though.

A Consumer Watcher's Nightmare

Dear Kroger,
If you are tracking my purchases via my Kroger Plus card, you are, by now, no doubt confused by what has come across my account. Just in the past week, you have seen:
Brown sugar pop-tarts
A gallon of raspberry chocolate chip ice cream
just 1 green apple
a frozen pizza
Nuttella
about 6 cans of soup
and KY Jelly

So, let me explain: I'm pregnant. I realize that makes it difficult to track our purchases as next week's grocery list will probably include popcorn, Special K with strawberries, and chocolate syrup and none of the above groceries. Sorry. It is not as irritating to you as it is to my husband, I assure you. And as for the KY Jelly - apparently it's the same as ultrasound gel, which I need for my at-home baby hearbeat doppler machine. So, I would appreciate you and your merry band of stockboys not judging me, thank you. Now, I'm off to hunt down a Wendy's for fries and a frosty.

What a Southern Baptist Catholic has learned about a kosher kitchen

The next in my list of summer reading is Miriam's Kitchen by Elizabeth Erlich. This is Elizabeth's memoir about her mother-in-law, Miriam, her mother and her grandmother in a quest to keep a kosher kitchen as part of their Jewish religion. It also explores Elizabeth's new love of cooking once her own family started to grow. I almost gave up on this book about a dozen times. While it does include several interesting recipes that she has taken the time to recall from her childhood, they are all kosher and thus involve latkes and sifting (a concept that continues to escape me. WHY is sifting so necessary? Isn't it all going to the same place anyway?) The book is slow to get started with some interjected stories of Miriam surviving Nazi Germany and tales spun about Elizabeth's childhood in Detroit. But once you hit around page 150, the stories of Nazi Germany become longer in Miriam's narrative and the recipes become fewer. But the recipes are explained - they are kosher. There is a complete lack of dairy in meat recipes or meat in dairy recipes...the fundamental principle of a kosher kitchen. Meat and dairy do not mix. That means there are separate pots, separate pans, separate cooking utensils, separate serving platters and separate plates and bowls. Even the clean-up must be kept separate. Dirty platters from a dinner of meat cannot be resting under dirty dairy dishes from breakfast. It's a huge undertaking and requires storage that most of us do not have, especially considering all of the extra appliances we have today.

So, why is a kosher kitchen that important? Why not just give up cheeseburgers and pizza with pepperoni? Because according to the Miriam's Kitchen (and assumingly also the Jewish religion), it is disrespectful to slaughter an animal and then eat that animal and at the same time drink the milk that came from that animal. If you're going to slaughter an animal, the least you can do is eat its meat separate from drinking its milk. Perhaps its just my extreme left-wing thinking, but I can kind of see where that makes sense. It's a respect thing. But it's also a commitment thing. I cannot imagine the dedication (and visits to the Corning outlet) you'd have to have to make it a feasible daily occurance - keeping a kosher kitchen. It also makes those kosher caterers all that much more impressive.

Part history lesson, part cooking lesson, part family memory, this book explores the Jewish dedication to a religion that I have never really understood. I've never really gotten how you could just write off Jesus. But that's the Southern Baptist peeking through. I may never understand that, but Nazi Germany happened to these people. And Mrs. Erlich was brave enough to put it on paper and sell it to the public.