Texasville, CA

Footwear Essentials

2010-08-15T12:19:00.000-07:00

In approximately 4-5 business days, I'll be wearing these until they fall apart. Even then, I'll probably pay big bucks to have them stitched back together. That's what my husband does with his boots, a pair of 1883 Luccheses.

I'm a boot snob, I won't lie. I turn my nose up at rubber soles. But I'm guilty of wanting champagne on a beer budget when it comes to boots. I want soft leather, perfect stitching, good support, no break-in, a leather sole, a clean, cold echo in the heel. But I don't have two large to drop on a pair of boots. Who does?

In a perfect world, I'd spring for a pair of Luccheses--handmade, custom boots out of El Paso, Texas. But it's hard to find a pair under $300, and even a pair under $500 is looking at the low-end of things. One day, my friends. One day. In the meantime, Tony Lamas are a close second. The countdown starts now.

I've been in the market for new boots for a while. But let me tell you, pickins' is slim in this part of the world. They stack up a few boxes of cheesy Ariats with faux pink ostrich and rubber, tire tread soles and call them "cowboy boots." Please. (See below for reference)

Luckily, Zappos.com has a fine selection of western-style boots. Um, no tax? FREE shipping?! Sign. me. up.

By the by, Galveston is going pretty darn well. I have the inkling it's going to leave me feeling a little numb after I turn the last page. I'm preparing myself already.

Galveston: A Novel

2010-08-13T16:25:00.000-07:00

Twice in one week. What can I say, I'm on a roll. But I think it's time to face the music: the literary and movie-making worlds have Texas on the brain.

I read about Galveston by Nic Pizzolatto in Texas Monthly recently and put it on my list. After all, I've spent a fair amount of time browsing the earthy boutiques on the Strand, pretending to like Moody Gardens, and shaking off the chills when I catch one of those '1900 Storm Survivor' badges on one of the buildings. Indeed, Galveston is the neighbor of my childhood.

But today, whilst stalking books on Amazon, my clicking finger hovering feverishly over the Whispersync button (have I mentioned I love Kindle for PC?), the powers that be tossed Galveston onto my recommendations list. Why do I get the feeling I'm being watched?

Needless to say, that $11.99 Kindle price didn't faze me and I will be devouring Galveston this weekend. I mean, wouldn't you?:

"On the same day in 1987 he's diagnosed with lung cancer, Roy Cady flees New Orleans, taking along Raquel Rocky Arceneaux, a pretty 18-year-old with a lurid past, whom he rescues from some hoods in the wake of a bloodbath. Rocky persuades him to stop in Orange, Texas, to pick up Tiffany, her three-year-old sister, and by the time they reach refuge in a rundown Galveston motel, 40-year-old Roy finds himself an unlikely father figure even as he struggles with a romantic attraction to Rocky. Pizzolatto's insightful portrayal of the heroic Roy, who takes a beating for trying to help the two girls, is rough and tumble real. As Pizzolatto switches smoothly between past and present, he vividly captures Galveston in all its desperate vulnerability as it faces the approach of Hurricane Ike in September 2008."

I'm sorry, Mr. Pizzolatto, but have we met somewhere before? This novel sounds like it was written to and for moi, not to sound self-centered or anything crazy like that. A lovable criminal? A deteriorating southern backdrop? A somewhat questionable love story? Um, yes, yes, and yes, wrap that up for me please.

Not to mention, the book is set practically in my back yard. My beloved father was once the district leading rusher for the Little Cypress Bears in Orange, Texas. And Hurricane Ike kept that same father (and mother and sister) stranded in Memorial for three weeks without power.

Will report back with post-read thoughts. But in the meantime, is it just wishful thinking or is there something of a Texas obsession lately? But if so, who's to blame for this? McCarthy? Maybe. He's a worthy scape goat. But I prefer to blame Tim Riggins. He's better looking.

The Killer Inside Me

2010-08-12T22:25:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. I've been away for a pretty darn good little while. What can I say. Writing blogs for other people keeps me pretty busy. But I recently sat down for this utterly disturbing movie set in the west Texas landscape and I just had to scratch my blog itch.

It's Saturday night and the Kentuckian and I have entirely too many movie options at our disposal. More is not always better, folks, sometimes it's just more. Between OnDemand and Netflix Instant Streaming to the XBox, we can easily spend an hour trying to decide what to watch, especially when he's in one of his moods, God bless him. On this particular night, he was in the mood for something bloody and scary. When we read 'WARNING: Graphic sex and violence' in the description for The Killer Inside Me, by golly we were sold.

The Killer Inside Me stars Casey Affleck as Lou Ford, an anti-hero of epic proportions hiding a taste for brutal violence and murder beneath the exterior of a soft-spoken southern gentleman. He poses as a tender-hearted deputy sheriff in a 1950s west Texas town, but really he has a "sickness." He's a serial killer, see. When he has the chance to avenge the death of his adopted brother, he suffers a flare-up and the results are truly nauseating.

Lou's crimes are sloppy and brutal. I had to avert my eyes. Bloody, yes, but hardly in the style of your modern day horror flick. Lou's style of murder is just plain sickening. I won't soon forget those moments. That's just it: this is not a horror flick, even though it is terrifying. The story is based on a classic piece of noir fiction from Jim Thompson, a major player in the hard boiled cannon, if there is such a thing, and I promptly added to my list of books to be read int he near future.

Kate Hudson is charming with a little extra flesh on her bones (The Kentuckian pointed this out) and Jessica Alba is surprisingly believable as the town prostitute with nothing but love in her heart for the homicidal lawman. Affleck's understated performance as the manipulative, unraveling lunatic of a protagonist is pretty spot-on and the script is surprisingly humorous at times. And then, of course, there's Texas. The unpretentious backdrop, dry and unforgiving, and ever present. I can't say if I really loved the movie--or just the scenery.

Green, American Style

2010-04-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

In college, I took an amazing class titled Feminisms and the Environment. My professor was a vegan lesbian who was in a wheel chair because she lost both her legs (and most of her hands) in an arson fire. I enrolled in the class because I needed to satisfy a liberal arts requirement. Part of the beauty of attending a liberal arts college. (I'll do a post on the benefits of a lib arts education in another post, swears.)

The most awesome thing about this gal wasn't that she kept an amazing pace despite her limitations. She and her partner, another faculty member, worked on an organic co-op in their spare time. She hiked regularly. Drove herself to and from class. She distributed hand-outs herself instead of enrolling a student to do it for her. But she valued my opinions as much as my more radical fellow students. And at the end of the semester, she told me how much she enjoyed having me in her class. Me. A straight, white, moderate girl of middle-class upbringing who wore heels to class instead of Birkenstocks and ratty t-shirts with "Blessed Anarchy" hand-painted on. (True story, folks.) And yet, I cannot remember her name. Sad, I know.

This class literally changed who I am because it's where I had my first "aha" moments, if you will, about how inextricably linked we are with our environment. I won't get on my soap box, but even now, I'm always trying to make the most environmentally responsible choice possible and living in California, it's only gotten worse. And where I come from, the Texas Gulf Coast, recycling is reason enough to be labeled a "liberal." In the age of Obama, that's a dirty word in those parts.

That's why I was so excited to read about this new book by Anna Clark, Green, American Style. In the book, Anna makes the case that environmentalism is inherently American and it doesn't have to be a political position. Rather, it should be viewed as a human decision.

I'm reading this book asap and hopefully, I have more wisdom on my side next time I get into a debate with my family, who throws away plastic bottles even though a truck picks them up with the trash. Thanks, Anna, for blurring those party lines for us! It's not either/or. It's both/and.

Green, American Style was released on April 1st, 2010 and it's available on Kindle! Anna Clark owns and runs and sustainable consulting firm and you can learn more about Anna and her work here.

Where Else Can You Get That?

2010-03-31T20:36:00.000-07:00

I frequently find myself in conversations in which I'm defending the virtue of country music. Yet, you never know where you'll find validation for the things you love.

In the book I'm currently reading, the author articulates the beauty of the genre so simply:

"'Each song is a narrative,' he explained. 'Conflict, crisis, and resolution, all in three minutes. Where else can you get that?'"

This quote is delivered by an Indian-American surgeon. Who knew? See, you don't have to be from Texas to love country music after all. Although I think it helps.

(By the way, current read is Playing by Berkeley's own Melanie Abrams. Not a waiting room read, folks. But compelling nonetheless.)

Crazy Heart

2010-03-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

So, I almost didn't see this movie. One, the Kentuckian couldn't muster much enthusiasm for it. And this was due in part to the fact that some friends of ours who had seen it said it was the worst movie they'd ever seen.

Yes. The worst EVER. Strong words, I dare say.

These "friends" said it was so depressing and boring that one among them considered walking out mid-reel and another contemplated stabbing herself in the eyes with the spoon end of an Icee straw. Needless to say, I had my doubts. I wasn't expecting much. And maybe this is exactly why I LOVED it.

Yes. Love is a word you might think I used somewhat casually. In fact, I only use it when necessary. And this is an issue of necessity. Crazy Heart is beautifully acted (obviously), the music is incredible, and I can't wait to see it again.

I'd heard Crazy Heart compared to last year's The Wrestler. The comparison left me a little depressed. Perhaps it was the residue of the depression which followed watching The Wrestler the first time. Talk about a wrist-cutter. I'm tellin' ya. That movie put me in some kinda awful funk. But Crazy Heart was different even though there are some similarities.

"Bad" Blake is a washed up but legendary country star wallowing in resentment that his protege's career eclipses his own. He meets a young reporter and they fall in love and he plays the part of father to her son very well. The relationship inspires Bad to seek out his own estranged son and start writing songs again. When the relationship ends after Bad loses her son in the Houston tunnels, Bad finally gets sober to get back what he's lost.

This is a movie about redemption that's truly about redemption. Not redemption through death, which seems to be the only way to find redemption in movies lately (see: The Wrestler). Jeff Bridges is superb as Bad ("Friends" said you could actually smell his whiskey breath through the screen). But what's even better is the music.

Co-written and produced by T-Bone Burnett (raised in Ft. Worth) and Texas-by-way-of-New-Mexico artist Ryan Bingham. (Just downloaded his first album from iTunes. Amazing.) Everything T-Bone touches turns to gold, including the music of Cold Mountain, O Brother Where Art Thou, and the Robert Plant/Alison Kraus collaboration, Raising Sand. The original songs from the movie are already personal favorites, especially "I Don't Know" and "Fallin' and Flyin'."

I know the merits of the movie have been beaten to death by the critics, Academy, etc, etc. But I had to say my piece. It's right up there with the other contemporary Texas classics, like No Country for Old Men and Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada. If you love country music, if you love Texas, you will love this movie.

St. Selena, TX

2010-03-23T16:06:00.001-07:00

In this month's issue of Texas Monthly, the Mike Leach vs. Texas Tech scandal is just a smattering of text on the cover. The rest of the design is an iconic-style portrait of Selena Quintanilla Perez, who is perhaps the patron saint of Texas. And undoubtedly the Queen of Tejano Music, as the article claims.

It also says that even when she broke attendance records with her final performance in the Astrodome at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, she was virtually unknown to white audiences. I can't say this is true for myself. But maybe I had an edge because I lived in the same town where she was born and attended the same elementary school she did. Unfair advantages, to be sure.

I still remember when she was killed. Murdered, rather, by her own friend. I was in junior high, eleven years old. The hallways were very somber and lots of students were even in tears. A large percentage of the students at my school were Latino and many of my best friends were Latino. They grew up speaking Spanish, unlike Selena herself, and loved her music. Her English cross-overs "Dreaming of You" and "I Could Fall in Love" were anthems at school dances for years after.

Fifteen years later, her songs take me back to Texas, to my schools where whites and Latinos sit side by side in class rooms and at lunch tables. They share a culture if they choose to. I can't see that here in California. Maybe I'm missing it. But it seems like everyone stays away from each other.

Issues like immigration law and teaching Spanish in schools are controversial. Almost too controversial to talk about--depending on who you're talking to and what side of the fence you're on. I can't help thinking we're all in this together. Nothing proves that more than Selena's popularity during her lifetime and her legacy after her death.

She is/was both/and. Both Texan and Latino, an icon to Spanish-speaking peoples on both sides of the border. Yet she was neither: self-conscious about her Spanish in Mexico, American as apple pie. Can I not claim Selena as part of my culture because I'm white? Some would say so.

The Kentuckian grew up in a predominantly black community in northern Kentucky. Granted, even today, a well-to-do black real estate agent drives his Hummer with trepidation in to rural communities in this part of the world. But the Kent was surrounded by the African-American culture of the South. Played side by side with them in basketball games. They were his friends. They became men together. A regular Larry Bird. He is white with black influences to be sure. Is it any less real because he isn't black?

We're so focused on lines and boundaries and rules. I decide what defines my culture, don't I? Selena was born on the Gulf Coast of Texas. We are the same. My people came from Europe. Hers came from Mexico. But we are both Texans.

Justified: A Review, or, A Quick Lesson in Showing vs. Telling (from a person unqualified to deliver such lessons)

2010-03-22T16:55:00.001-07:00

So in honor of the one-week anniversary of my initial promise of a full-blown review of FX's new series Justified, I thought I might actually do that. I'm a fair-weather blogger, what can I say. (And we are having some darn fine weather here in NorCal.) Don't expect this baby all shiny-like on a book shelf any time soon!

Anywho, my initial assessment of the pilot is: hmmm. This is code for "C." Bordering on "C+." Maybe I had really high expectations. But the first episode left a little to be desired because...

Too much telling, not enough showing. The cardinal rule of good story-telling: show, don't tell. Is it possible to "tell" in the film/television versions of story-telling? Yes, friends, why yes it is. For example...

(Please don't ask me to direct-quote. My talents lie elsewhere. Brace yourself for some gross paraphrasing.)

Example: TELLING

In the pilot, we meet a former pal of Raylan's (Raylan is the lead, by the way) who's since left his coal-digging days behind and turned into a neo-Nazi terrorist. Since Raylan is the U.S. marshal hot on his heels, you'd think this would create some emotional conflict. Yeah, not really.

How many times do they need to tell us--through dialogue--that the main man and his white supremacist nemesis used to "dig coal together." We got it. But such telling does not a moral dilemma make. Raylan has to actually give two squirrels about the guy. And this was not demonstrated. Rather, we're supposed to buy said dilemma because we're being hit over the head with it through dialogue.

We didn't get a sense of the coal mining industry in KY and how it bonds men together. We didn't get to see another side of our protagonist or his blood-thirsty bigot of a former pal (which is even MORE interesting). Missed opportunities all around.

Example: SHOWING

Raylan heads to the courthouse to get a look at his ex-wife as she pounds the keys as a court reporter. She's all gorgeous with perfectly styled waves dangling in her face. (How does one type at break-neck speeds while hair hangs in one's face?) One of the best moments in the show! Point delivered! He still carries a torch for the ex! Well done! So much better than giving us another awkward line about how he's not over her. Which is hurl-inducing.

Example: TELLING

Darn-near final scene of the pilot. Raylan sneaks in to aforementioned ex's new home. They skirt onto the deck for a little chit chat (the new man in her life doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that a) her ex husband just broke into their house or b) she's having a quiet moment with him...still in their house)). She says something like "If you were gonna shoot him you would have done it six years ago when I left you."

Ugh. Quick. Cram in some back story. Like we give a whiz how long it's been.

They chit chat some more, about what I can't really remember, it was that uninteresting. But the conversation eventually leads her to say, "Raylan, you're the angriest man I've ever known."

Ugh. Missed opportunities a'plenty.

Please. Don't tell us the guy's got deep, dark, chocolate layers. That he's battling his own demons, rage, and pain as he wipes clean the streets of Lexington. Show us! We're begging you! Poor Olyphant doesn't have two twigs to rub together to make some fire for his character. You tell me, would you rather see he's an angry man through the plot, the acting, etc? Not through dialogue?

The producers of this show could take a few cues from those of Breaking Bad, which is probably the best show on TV right now. The main character, Walt, an over-qualified high school chemistry teacher turned meth cook, is a pretty angry dude. Right away, we know why. His career is in the toilet. He's probably dying of cancer. Soon. And he's broke. Do they find not-so-clever way to tell us Walt's angry? No way. Instead, they have Walt do surprisingly uncharacteristic things like hurl a pizza onto his soon-to-be-ex-wife's roof. ANGRY MEN TEND TO LOSE THEIR COOL once in a while. So far, Raylan's got it together. Despite the telling, I'm having a hard time buying this angry business.

Despite this glaring flaw, will I keep watching? Yes! I have hope. Mostly because the plot itself has promise and it's got some interesting female characters (battered housewife shoots her husband and happens to be Raylan's high school crush). But the script needs some work and ole Timothy needs to kick it up a notch in the acting department. I'd like to keep thinking Hitman was a fluke.

Justified: A Post Dedicated to my One True Love

2010-03-16T21:17:00.000-07:00

For today's post, we will deviate from our regularly scheduled programming to pay homage to the Blue Grass State, also the home turf of my One and Only, appropriately named "The Kentuckian."

In about forty minutes, FX premiers a new series, a new series I will be sampling for a few reasons:

--It's about Kentucky.

--My husband's from Kentucky.

--It's based on a short story by Elmore Leonard. (Fess up, you LIKED Out of Sight. Even J-Lo couldn't ruin that one.)

--The main character looks darn good in a Stetson and boots (Timothy Olyphant. See above.)

Justified is a new series on FX (10 pm Pacific, Tuesdays) about a Deputy U.S. Marshal in eastern Kentucky upholding the law and confronting his past (a past primarily composed of criminal relatives and gorgeous women (which the Kentuckian will enjoy)). I'm looking forward to the snappy dialogue Leonard does so well, some raw sexual tension, and maybe a few toothless hillbillies. (The Kentuckian has beautiful teeth, by the way.)

Will tune in for a post-premier review tomorrow!

(Photo shamelessly lifted from www.fxnetworks.com)

The Last Rodeo Tour

2010-03-15T21:20:00.000-07:00

As some of you might already know (let's face it, if you live in Texas, you probably DO already know), Brooks and Dunn have announced their retirement. Old news, I know. However, their upcoming performance at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo pours salt in my wounds since I will not--repeat, will NOT--be there. March 20. Reliant Stadium. Please go and send a piece of the bittersweet joy to me via carrier pigeon.

Country music is something I really, really, really miss about Texas. I tell you, I've never listened to so much country music in my life since I moved out of Texas. Sometimes, it's my only salvation. A little Pat Green. A little Willie Nelson. A little George Strait. Just puts me right in a mood. However, the Kentuckian doesn't much have a heart for Alan Jackson's "Dallas." I think it's a little too close to home.

Country music gets no R-E-S-P-E-C-T here on the west coast. I know, there is bad country and there's good country. I'll be the first to tell you that. At times, the puns and double entendres are too much even for me. But classic, outlaw, and Texas country get an automatic "in." And so does George Strait. Because he's George. That's all.

I'm telling you, though, Californians have no love for the steel guitar and the fiddle.* I recently attended a barbeque in honor of March Madness (in which no basketball was watched and the ribs were inedible (we'll discuss BBQ in another post)) and somehow, a country song found its way into the carefully constructed Lil' Wayne play list. You would have thought it was Nickelbach or Creed or some shite like that from the volume of screeching. The host quickly corrected his party foul and replaced said country song with another, more appropriate tune in which I'm sure Alvin and Co. were on backup.

I'm no square. I love a good bass-busting, pants-sagging, ho-bashing track every now and again. I know it's hard out here for a pimp. But I do question the psychological fortitude of a person who cannot muster the slightest appreciation for country's greatest hits. The angst! The loneliness! The longing! What's not to love? Give me Willie and Waylon and the boys any day.

*I recognize that not ALL Californians are country haters. Just the ones I know, of course.

(Photo shamelessly lifted from www.brooks-dunn.com)

Put a Sock in it, Jess

2010-03-07T14:30:00.000-08:00

Did anyone else see Jessica Simpson on Oprah last week? (See notes on interview here.) Jessica, while lovely (and apparently dynamite in the ole sackaroo), probably did well to abstain from commenting on the media scrutiny of her so-called "weight." The more she talked, the more I cringed. And you?

As The Big O so eloquently shared, Jessica has been a proverbial bulls-eye for the media ever since she let cameras in on her young marriage in "The Newlyweds." What a shocker. Now, it seems this Texas native can't even enjoy a corn dog without inviting the shuttering of camera lenses. I sympathize with her. No really, I do. It must be terrible when your ex-boyfriend announces to the world that your body is a wonderland. Just awful. And I think it's terrible what the media/culture does to women, picking them apart like pledges at a sorority initiation ceremony. No REALLY, I do. But Jessica certainly does not have a stable platform on which to stand for such a discussion.

I especially liked it when she lamented the fact that she's not as big as the media would have you believe. That she is in fact a size 4-6. She followed that up with, and this is NOT a direct quote, "They make it sound like I'm 240 pounds or something!"

Someone get the duct tape.

She says this to Oprah who the world knows weighed in at 237 pounds at her peak. It's as if to say women who manage to stay within the 4-6 range should not flog themselves nightly. But those of you in the 240+ range, let the flogging begin! I think she hoped her moments of verbal diarrhea would be endearing once she became a household name. I thought I would get past the point of shock and awe. But she still has some juice left in her tank. Anybody got a match?

(Photo shamelessly lifted from Oprah.com.)

Oscars, Baby...

2010-03-05T12:07:00.000-08:00

It's Oscar week. The Oscars give me a little thrill, I won't lie. And this year, there are a few changes, as in lots more movies up for Best Picture. I am torn beyond measure because I've seen quite a few movies this year thanks to The Kentuckian, who drags me to almost every new release. Kicking and screaming.

Of the Best Picture Noms, I haven't seen 'Up,' 'A Serious Man,' or 'Precious' (I know!!!). All I know is if Avatar wins, I'm gonna choke on a Junior Mint. It was wonderful, but it did not affect me the way 'An Education,' 'Up in the Air,' or 'The Hurt Locker' did. Same goes for 'The Blind Side.' After reading Christopher Kelly's article in February's Texas Monthly, 'Stop the Blitz,' I just didn't feel the same way about it.

What do you think? Who's going home with faceless gold dudes?

On 'New Project' Temptations

2010-03-05T11:40:00.000-08:00

How sweet it is. A deliciously exciting new idea for a book. You're out for a jog. The dog poops directly on the sidewalk. You are grateful that you brought two baggies instead of one, for he pooped on the sidewalk once already. You pick up said poop, walk to trashcan, and then BAM! It drops out of the sky like bird poop on a windshield. (Lots of poo imagery, I know, I'm stopping, but this is how it happens sometimes.)

Characters, fully formed. A more-than-skeletal plot. Tension. Conflict. The whole enchilada. You run home, fire up lap top and begin writing outline. Then you have flashes of dialogue. Write that down. A scene. Write that down. You are flying high, a bounce in your step. Then the bounce is gone when you remember, "Oh yeah, I'm spoken for."

That other manuscript. The one you've been working on for so long and it's al-most-finished. It was love at first sight with that idea too. What's to be done?

Does this happen to you? Fellow aspiring writers? Even former aspiring writers (aka published)? I'm struggling with this at the moment. One, I feel I'm cheating on my other idea. Two, it makes me wonder if my old idea isn't as great as I think it is and that's why I'm being tempted away. How does one battle the allure??

Here's my plan: 1st draft for manuscript one is almost finished. (Literally. But a few straggling scenes left to go.) Exercise discipline (?) to finish 1st draft. Then, while manuscript one cooks, begin working on idea two. Sound good?

I know I'm not the only story-oriented person this has happened to. How do you rationalize it? How do you to go forth and FINISH SOMETHING when such slithery temptations are on the horizon?

To Kindle or not to Kindle

2010-03-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

There's been quite a bit of chatter on the blogosphere in recent months about ebooks. Whether or not they will bring the book business to its knees. Whether they are a sign the end is coming. Yada yada. I have to say I was in the "you will have to rip my paper books from my kung-fu grip" camp there for a while. But I think I've made the dreaded cross-over. I know! THE HORROR!

It all came about when I wanted a book I couldn't get from the library. And, as it were, didn't want to pay for shipping from Amazon. It was a new-ish book (a book I CANNOT stop talking/thinking about, JUST READ IT, mmmkay?) and there weren't many reviews, so I figured it would be a good test book for the ole' Kindle for PC app. I'm tellin' ya, in about three minutes, I had the book.

And that was all it took. I now have seven books in my Kindle library and I've read four of them. Of those seven, only two of them were $9.99 (the hotly debated price for ebooks). The rest only cost 50% of that. I've done more reading in the last week since downloading this God forsaken app than I have in the last month.

Warning: the reason being because it's so easy to just click on over from whatever I should be doing on my computer to read "JUST A CHAPTER! I SWEARS!" Before you know it, you're half way done with the book, you're in danger of being entombed with laundry, and Adult Protective Services is carting away your spouse.

I have yet to purchase the actual Kindle. I'm still on the fence about that. Reviews seem mixed and the current price tag leaves a bit to be desired. But I'm leaning at about a 45-degree angle in that direction. What are your thoughts on the ebook phenomenon? Are you getting on board or ready to hold out till the end?

A Commonplace Blog

2010-03-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

When I'm in the mood for a little light reading, I head on over to the blogosphere and soak up a little humor from a few of my favorite blogs: Janet Reid, Query Shark, The Rejectionist, and when feeling sentimental, the dearly departed Miss Snark. However, bloggage is not just for the masses, I'm learning, as I occasionally wander over to this little gem, Dr. D.G. Myers of our own Texas A & M University.

Okay, so I've yet to snicker while reading Dr. Myers posts. How he manages to muster enough breath for such musings on said 'sphere is beyond me. But I must say, he offers quite a bit more than the traditional "Omigod i LOVE thiss book!" approach to online book review. No, there is no mention of Twilight. In fact, I feel a tad iffy about mentioning it in the same paragraph, nay, POST, as his blog.

He does, however, compile a very interesting list of great Texas novels, all of which I intend to add to my to-read list, especially Whitewater, about a man who escapes his small Texas town only to find his thoughts remain on the home front. A sentiment this "expat" understands well. He will also defend Lolita's position as the greatest novel in history until he's blue in the face. I keep going back hoping to be convinced. If only it were the subject matter barring me beyond page 50, IF ONLY! Maybe I could save face.

You'll also find a cool-ish review of Woodsburner, a novel about the little known forest fire started by a not so little known transcendentalist named Henry David Thoreau. The author, John Pipkin, happens to be an Austinite who's better half teaches Victorian lit at my alma mater.
In the mean time, check it out. Chuckling: unlikely. Very serious, high-brow literary criticism: guaranteed.

A National, er, State Holiday

2010-03-02T12:12:00.001-08:00

That's right, folks. Today is the anniversary of Texas's declaration of independence from Mexico in 1836. Settlers in Texas drafted up this tricksy little document here and thereby said, "Hmph, we gonna take our toys and go home." I'm kinda glad they did, since it makes Texas one of THE most history-makin'-est states in the union.

In honor of this momentous occasion, I will be listening to Little Texas's 'God Blessed Texas' every hour, on the hour, until I just can't stands it no more. Not really. I'll listen to it a few times and two-step alone in my kitchen before I must get back to the grindstone (since we don't celebrate Texas holidays out here on the West Coast. Darn shame, I'll say).

Book Recs: All Roads Lead Me Back to You, NCFOM

2010-02-25T09:45:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned previously (however, not RECENTLY), I'm on a reading kick. Who isn't. Well, frankly, a lot of folks in this grand age of DVR, OnDemand, True Blood and Mad Men. But a few good books have made this tortuous time between seasons (which seems to be getting longer, no?) a little less painful.

See: All Roads Lead Me Back to You. Okay. NOT about Texas. But, it is about Texas-related subject matter, such as ranching, immigration, and land rights. And a little lovin' thrown in for fun.

This debut novel by Kennedy Foster is beautiful, funny, and surprisingly original even if it does have a fairly straight forward plot. Warm, yet tough Washington rancher Alice is up to her ears in work when she finds Domingo Roque bleeding in the snow. She helps him dodge the immigration police while he helps her get the ranch back on track and fend off the rake aiming to sell his share of the ranch to pay off gambling debts. And in the process, they fall in love. How perfect is that!

All Roads Lead Me Back to You is a modern romance for an old world. A world that, I dare say, is dying out in the name of feed lots and mass production (see: Food, Inc., anything by Michael Pollan). The characters are lovable and expertly drawn. The romance is believable and real. Thank you, Kennedy for giving us a real woman. Let us be spared from sultriness. For anyone craving a contemporary western. (Shall we start a movement?) Stumbled on this book via blog of my Dream Agent, Janet Reid. Reid daily, or perish.

Also: No Country for Old Men. For obvious reasons. If there's anyone left out there who hasn't read it, I suggest you stop what you're doing right now, even if you are watching the 2nd season of True Blood AGAIN on OnDemand, and head to the library/bookstore/Amazon.com/where you get books. Texas circa 1980. Hilarious dialogue WITH blood. A surprisingly quick read, so don't be scared even if you're still struggling through Blood Meridian.

Let's all grab a chocolate bar and start clippin' through pages.

Redirecting 'Afterlife', Introducing 'Texasville, CA'

2009-10-16T13:33:00.000-07:00

It's official. The focus-less 'Afterlife' is dead. No really, no afterlife for 'Afterlife'. It's time to give this blog a purpose.

And as I'm finding a purpose for my writing in general, I thought it was only appropriate to devote this half-hearted attempt at blogging to the same thing: Texas. And all its murky glory.

Since leaving this God-forsaken state, I just can't stop thinking about it. Or talking about it. Or writing about it. Texas gets in your blood like West Nile after a skeeter bite (skeeter = read 'mosquito').

How do you write about a place when you don't even live there? From 2,000 miles away, I see Texas through new eyes and they find many more things to love, cherish, and celebrate about it. And as I mine the history books, blogosphere, the headlines, and the world wide web for these tidbits, I will share them with you. Hopefully, Texans on their beloved turf will appreciate it more and those who scoff at it from afar will scoff less.

You can never go home again. But at least you can write about it.

Latest Obsession: Reading

2009-09-22T16:24:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have a dilemma. I want to read. I understand--entirely--that this does not make me unique or special in anyway. But it is noteworthy since I haven't felt the urge to put my eyes to a printed page since college graduation. What can I say, books and me needed a vacation from one another. We had reached the point of saturation.

These days, I just can't get enough. I used to make these crazy lists of all these books I want to read and I find myself doing that. Ambitious, I know. My most recent list includes:

-All of McCarthy
-All of Russo
-All of McMurtry
-All of Charlaine Harris (exclusively Sookie Stackhouse)
-All of James

At the rate I've been going--specifically the rate since graduation until, well, now--this list would take me the rest of my life. Which brings me to a point that I have not wanted to accept or acknowledge: does anyone really enjoy McCarthy and find him easy to read? The Road was truly spectacular. Loved every word. But Blood Meridian--my only other diversion down this dark road--was a challenge. I will admit, it's profound sprinkled with moments that are truly remarkable. But it was a struggle. Anyone? N-E-1?

What sparked this reconciliation? I was Wikipedia-ing one day--a favorite pastime--and wandered over to Anne Rice's page. I discovered that she is a "reverted" Catholic Christian and that she's written a book about it all. I was intrigued, as I often am, to hear other people's reasons for choosing faith and spirituality. I dashed off to the library to pick up this book and went home with Texasville, We Were the Mulvaneys, and The Painted Veil. Thus, we were reunited.

The Painted Veil is delightful by the way. Maybe will add 'All of Maugham' to my list?

Libraries, Literature, Love

2009-09-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

I am excited--BEYOND MEASURE--about this weekend. Is it because of the Tech vs. Texas game on Saturday? Close, but, um, no. Actually, I'm dancing in my seat right now because the relentless little hopeless romantic that lives inside me is so revved up about the release of Bright Star.

I'm not going to pretend like I'm a John Keats fan, much less an expert. This particular section of Survey of British Literature II is a little fuzzy and not because it was at 9 am. But, I think all lovers of literature--poetry and prose--relish the opportunity to have a peek into the real lives of the enigmatic characters of literary history. And Keats is definitely one of the brightest stars (wink) in the cast. Even I have to admit that.

Bright Star is the story of his three-year long secret love affair with Fanny Brawne, passionate and tempestuous, that ended only with his untimely death. Okay, so it's not a wink-wink, ho-ho romcom in which the omnipresent Katherine Heigl tries her darnedest to pass as a romantic lead. I get the feeling there could be tissues involved. And sleepless nights. And a tender ache in the chest as the credits roll. But nevertheless, I will be there. Even if it does cost me ten dollars.

I might not be quite this excited if the film's creator wasn't the beloved and brilliant Jane Campion, director of the The Piano and my personal favorite, which I've seen at LEAST 100 times, The Portrait of a Lady. I haven't seen all of her movies, but I haven't seen one I didn't like. Think this one's going to be a winner. Leave the boyfriends/husbands at home. They can watch the Red Raiders/Longhorns game.

Speaking of Keats, and college, and survey courses, I was in a public library for the first time in a long time yesterday. Whoa, things have changed. I have to admit, I was little disappointed at the selection. You never appreciate the things you have until they're gone, like a university library. Even at that, Southwestern's library wasn't exactly epic. But it was three stories tall. And they certainly had every book I could ever want. Pickins' were a little slim at this particular branch of the Sonoma Co. Library system.

But what stunned me was this: gone are the days of library cards and the cathartic stamping of the due date on a sleeved chart inside the book of your choice. Things have gotten a smidge high tech. Check out process is as follows:

1. Scan library card--name and profile appear on computer screen.
2. Computer message tells me to 'place books on table' (table being a black pad under the screen.)
3. I cautiously and skeptically place book #1--Larry McMurtry's Texasville--on said 'table'.
4. Title miraculously appears on screen. Serial number and all.

Aside: Before proceeding, I'm looking around trying to find the conspiracy in all of this. I look at the lady behind the desk to see if she's typing in my titles. Apparently not.

5. I place remaining books, in a single stack, on the 'table'. Each title appears accurately on screen.
6. Complete transaction.
7. Dialogue box appears: How would you like your receipt? Email? Fax? Print? Or Text? Email please.

Yeah. Space-agey or what? Maybe I'm behind the times, but I was so charmed by it all. Plus it's one of the few places in town with free Wi-Fi where I don't feel pressured to buy coffee. So awesome.

Still Alive

2009-08-04T19:06:00.000-07:00

Indeed, you may--or may not--have noticed that new posts on this blog have recently been reduced to...zero. That's right. Very little blogging has been going on at this particular site.

I have little to say on the subject except that I have been doing a little too much of the above...I'll give you a minute to assess the image now.

Done? Mmmk. A little bit too much of THAT, along with working, traveling, bridesmaidsing, and other such shenanigans have significantly diminished my time and desire to blog. However, I feel the drive and inclination to continue said blogging coming back.

Do you ever just run out of crap to say? That's kinda what I was experiencing. But then maybe I was just saying it elsewhere. Who knows. But I've missed the ole blog and my sprinkling of readers. And so, I'm back. Hopefully.

In other news, I'm strongly considering a subtle renaming of the blog to match the direction it seems to naturally follow, which is a longing for all things Texan. Along with a few digressions into the areas of movies, television, news, and goofy anecdotes. Should be fun.

Speaking of which, how about that Gerard Butler? I just can't seem to get enough of that guy lately. Bad movies notwithstanding. When you're willing to sit through The Ugly Truth just so you can spend two hours with him, you know there's an issue. So what if it's just in a movie theatre. And it costs you ten dollars. IT'S WORTH IT. Suddenly Schumacher's Phantom of the Opera has strange appeal. Mmm.

I will be back for more. See you there.

Finding Life Outside the Cube....Genius

2009-02-18T20:25:00.000-08:00

Dude. I am stoked--repeat, stoked--to have stumbled across this blog today! I was just milling around Lindsey Pollak's blog (also awesome) when I read a familiar phrase: "Anti 9-5..." I clicked and it spoke to me.

You all must know how much I love Tim Ferriss's Four Hour Work Week. Um, it changed my life, that's all. But let's face it, Tim is more about time management than the art of freelancing. Freelancing is merely a means to an end in his eyes.

This nice lady, however, gets down and dirty about how to create success as a 'creative' freelancer. In her blog, The Anti 9-5 Guide, she even speaks to those freelancers in such lines of work as 'professional organizing.' Man, I cannot wait to click through every page of this little gold mine.

Or turn every page of this one! Michelle Goodman--said anti 9-5er--has also written two, count 'em, TWO books about life as a freelancer and how to make it work! Only one of which is My So-Called Freelance Life: How to Survive and Thrive as a Creative Professional for Hire. The answer is 'yes,' I've already ordered both of her books from Amazon.com.

Michelle's other little treasure, The Anti 9-5 Guide: Practical Career Advice for Women Who Think Outside the Cube, is also en route to my home. Isn't it so awesome to randomly find people that share your same thoughts and outlook on life? It sure makes the world seem a little cozier.

(Photos courtesy of http://www.anti9to5guide.com/)

Never Fear, MoreDating is Here

2009-02-10T10:27:00.000-08:00

Ugh, I know. There's been a sad lack of postage going on at All Growns Up. What can I say: I've been busy working for the man. And with that, there just really hasn't been that much to write about. First Rule of Blogging: Don't Blog When You Have NOTHING To Say. I try to follow that rule, even though I've been known to break it. As you can see....

However, if you've been paying attention to the days quickly passing by in 2009, it might have come to your mind's eye that the dreaded V-day is upon us. Yes, it's Valentine's Day time y'all.

This time of year, I usually get the stink eye from single-looking passers by because I'm a 'missus'. But even when I was a single gal, I never thought Valentine's Day was one to sit inside, watch Fatal Attraction, and accept the fact that you've gone up a dress size. It's just another day, y'all. No really, it's just another day. And no, I'm not saying that because I always had a boyfriend... I usually got flowers and candy on Valentine's Day...from my dad.

But that doesn't mean that it isn't nice to have someone of the opposite--or the same--sex to spend the day with that preferably is not a paternal figure. So being that the big day is still five days away, I'd say it's crunch time.

Okay, five days might create some pressure if you're hoping to find your soulmate before this Saturday. But on Valentine's Day, all you need is a great date. My recommendation? Wander over to MoreDating.com.

MoreDating.com is a brand-spanking new dating site where you can mix and mingle with single folks in your area from the comfort of your desk chair. And, if you find someone that seems like a promising V-day partner in crime, you can even plan a date with their restaurant and date-planning resources.

Basically, it's a one-stop shop social networking site for those looking to add a little oomph to their dating life. Log in now and you can be one of the first people to explore this awesome resource for single people everywhere! You'll be a MoreDating legacy! And, who knows, you might even fill your February 14th schedule.

John Updike, This Tan's for You

2009-01-27T11:13:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how much those first influential reads really stick with you. For me, it was the A & P, one of many short stories written by the great, and now late, John Updike.

It was an assigned read for one of my early creative writing courses, taught by famed Texas writer, Ron Rozelle. He had a knack for these kinds of tales, even though they were a little much for most high schoolers.

Basically, it accounts one of those not-so-epic life experiences that are still so bitterly disillusioning. Sammy, a store clerk at the nostalgic grocery store chain, A & P, heroically resigns his job after three gorgeous, tanned, bikini-clad girls are reprimanded by the store owner for being inappropriately dressed.

I remember most that he described--in detail--the glowing half moon of white just under the girls' butt cheeks (yes, I said butt cheeks) where the sun failed to do a thorough job. Yeah, a not-so-subtle allusion to raging teen hormones.

Sammy's big gesture, however, leaves him empty-handed. When he ventures into the parking lot sans A & P official apron, the girls are gone. He is jobless with no damsel in distress to comfort him. His standing up to injustice got him nothing, not even a smile.

Yeah, it's a little bittersweet. A keen observer of the every day, Updike was. I'd say it was one of the first stories of its kind that I encountered. Previously, I'd been a fan of more dramatic literature. After a dose of Updike, I appreciated the pain, heroics, and greatness of those little poignant moments in everyday life. And I enjoyed reading about them when written as well as he wrote them.

So thanks, Mr. Updike, for making me--and many others, to be sure--a better reader, writer, and thinker.

(Photo courtesy of www.issuemanagement.net)

Celestial Seasonings: 'Green' Tea

2009-01-14T11:27:00.001-08:00

I know, I'm totally on this anti-coffee/pro-tea rant right now. Promise it will end soon. But I just had to throw this in there about the tea brand, Celestial Seasonings! It takes a lot to impress me in the time it takes my tea water to warm, but CS managed to do that this very morn.

I'll confess, I'd been a little frustrated with my 100% Natural Celestial Seasonings tea purchases. Unlike many teas, the bags don't come individually wrapped or with strings and tags. You have to keep them stored in the box as opposed to conveniently carrying them about in your hand bag. And when tea time is over, you have to stick your fingers down into the cup and fish out the squishy, wet tea bag. I know. Gross. Especially when it's all cold and stuff.

I'd pretty much decided that I was going to phase out Celestial Seasonings and stick with my more 'hip' brands like Tazo and Stash, but they had a 'Buy One Get One Free' sale on CS at Safeway yesterday. Due to economic motivations, I caved.

So glad I did! On the inside of the box, it clearly explains the reasoning behind their unconvential packaging. The tea bags themselves are made from natural fibers and because they don't include the string, tag, staple, and individual wrapper, CS claims that it's able to 'save more than 3.5 millions pounds of waste from entering landfills every year!' How awesome is that?

Not to mention, the boxes themselves are made from recycled materials and the tea itself is based on fair trade and sustainable harvesting standards.

Maybe I'm a little late on the draw and everyone new this about Celestial Seasonings, but they've just won me over! I will be a CS drinker from now on! I particularly like their Raspberry Zinger Caffeine Free Herbal Tea and the Country Peach Passion Caffeine Free Herbal Tea. Yum.

Now there's no need for coffee drinkers to feel left out of the green revolution. I loved--and still love--my filterless coffee pot. I don't know the numbers around waste as it relates to paper filters, but I'm sure it's staggering. A coffee pot with a permanent filter creates less waste and it's less messy! No more trying to run the wet, used filter over to the trash can! Yeah, you know exactly what I'm talking about!

Not to mention, I'm sure you could even take the same bag or canister to any place where they sell coffee beans in bulk and they'd fill you up. Besides, freshly ground coffee tastes better anyway.

Way to go, Celestial Seasonings. I feel inspired to do something greeny. Like, stay home and have a cup of tea.

Kate: 1, Caffeine: 0

2009-01-12T22:32:00.000-08:00

No, this isn't turning into a caffeine bashing blog. I fully support other peoples' need, want, desire, and obsession for caffeine. Well, I did until I started reading this crazy book, Caffeine Blues.

Stephen Cherniske's book is practically ancient at this point--it's ten years old. It might as well be fifty years old in terms of medical research. Nevertheless, I think the info is still relevant. I'll say this: it gave me the heebie jeebies.

I've been avoiding this book for about ten years. I'd see it, perched ominously on my bookshelf, and I'd tip toe past, trying not to make eye contact, like you might a rabid dog. I knew what awaited me within its pages. I didn't want to hear it.

I'm not about to turn into one of those self-righteous ex-coffee drinkers. Coffee and I were reunited briefly over the Christmas break. But then I quickly returned to tea, especially after spending a few hours thumbing through Caffeine Blues: Wake Up to the Hidden Dangers of America's #1 Drug. Yeah, there are some big words in that title.

Some folks can enjoy the occasional cup of coffee and live a normal life. But most of us abuse it. If you're not sure whether coffee is actually effecting your health above and beyond the occasional headache, Cherniske has a fun little quiz for you. And I do mean fun. Here it is, recreated just for you:

Do you experience any of the following on a recurrent or frequent basis?

Energy swings or periods of fatigue during the day
Mood swings or periods of depression during the day
Headaches
Gastrointestinal distress; cramping, diarrhea
Constipation and/or dependence on caffeine for bowel movement
Tension or stiff in your neck, shoulders, jaw, hands, legs, or stomach
Premenstrual syndrome; menstrual irregularity, cramps, sore breasts
Painful/sensitive lumps in the breast
Insomnia
Clenching the jaw or grinding teeth during sleep
Anxiety
Irritability, including inappropriate 'fits' of anger
Involuntary movement in the leg (restless leg syndrome)
Irregular or rapid heartbeat
Light-headedness/dizziness
Wake up feeling tired
Generalized pain (back pain, stomach pain, muscle aches)
High blood pressure
Ulcers
Anemia
Shortness of breath
Difficulty concentrating and/or memory loss
Ringing in the ears
Coldness in the extremities, especially fingertips
Hand tremor

Yeah, it's a heck of a long list, isn't it. I'd tell you how many of these things hit home for me, but I'd be a bit embarrassed. A lot, I'll tell you that. Here's what Cherniske says about your quiz results:

"If you have 12 or more 'yes' answers, your caffeine intake represents a critical health risk that may actually decrease your life expectancy."

Wha?? That's right, he thinks that excessive caffeine intake can actually shorten your life!! Crazy.

At one point, I would have thought, "Who would want to live longer withOUT coffee?" I figured life's short enough as it is. So here's to coffee-less month number three!

2009 Beef #1: Corking Fees

2009-01-03T21:23:00.000-08:00

I know that it's probably bad karma for my very first post of the new year to be such a negative one. I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for the forthcoming subject matter. It's overwhelmingly whiney, but I just can't help myself.

You know that feeling when an establishment--such as a restaurant--serves up a plate of utter disappointment? I know, it hurts. Especially when it's your favorite establishment. It happened to be tonight, folks. You walk out of the restaurant with your chest pounding and your Californian cuisine rising up in your throat. It makes you want to hurl a meager tip comprised of pennies at the scroogie owner.

Today was my birthday, y'all. Yup, the big 2-5. I'm officially a quarter of a century old, which would be cool if just about all of my friends weren't touting the same accomplishment. So my hubs took me to my favorite restaurant in Petaluma, CA, which will remain nameless. I'm vengeful, but apparently not THAT vengeful.

I first noticed that something was off when a bit of a foofaraw arose behind the wine counter. The owner was rifling around to the soundtrack of fine stemware crashing. However, instead of shouting out an embarrassing albeit more adult-like four letter word, she sought the member of the wait staff that was the farthest away.

She than began to publicly, and not delicately, reprimand the server as to the proper storing and stacking of the stemware. At one point, the phrase "it's not rocket science" was heard throughout the petite restaurant. Yah. Awkward.

Restaurant Ownership Rule #1: Do not break your own stemware. Restaurant Ownership Rule #2: Do not reprimand your employees in front of your customers. It's just bad form, no? I have to say, I was more embarrassed for the accomplished head chef/owner than the poor girl, who handled the situation with infinitely more poise than her supposed superior.

But then came the real blow, which I'm substantially more miffed about because it directly impacted my pocketbook. See, I don't know if you've heard, but apparently there's an economic crisis going on. And since the hubs and I intended to celebrate said birthday with more than one glass of wine, and this particular establishment boasts a BYOW rule to the tune of a 'meager' corking fee, we decided to pick up a mid-range bottle.

Our eyes were bigger than our livers, apparently, because as the end of our meal began to draw near, the bottle was shockingly full. We only thought we were shocked by how much wine we didn't drink until the bill came. Corking fee? Pshshs. A corking fee to the tune of twenty bucks. As in 2-0. And when I gingerly questioned the sum, the owner condescendingly brought to my attention that the corking fee is normally twenty-FIVE dollars and she'd knocked off five bucks out of the goodness of her heart. I'm convinced she dreamt the figure up while preparing our meal because nowhere, repeat, nowhere, is a $25 corking fee posted on the menu or otherwise.

Maybe I'm a little naive as to the reality of the corking fee here in Northern California. It's entirely possible. But I have to say, I was stunned. I thought, corking fee...maybe ten dollars. Maybe. That's stretching it. So basically, we enjoyed a $17 bottle of wine for the price of $37.

So here's what I'm thinking of doing: we go in there, order water, share an entree, and sit there for three hours requesting infinite refills of water and bread. Maybe they'll charge us a 'tabling' fee? I wouldn't be surprised.

Grown-Up Christmas List

2008-12-17T15:09:00.000-08:00

So, Christmas is in eight days. It snuck up on me once again. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be sneeked or snuck or snucked, but we'll go with snuck for now. I am headed to Texas after all.

Christmas is in eight days and happily, I'm sitting in the Oakland airport awaiting my cushy Southwest flight to Houston. (Note: Oakland Int'l Airport has free Wifi y'all. Other airports of the world, watch and learn.) This Christmas is going to be a wee bit different from the others cause the in-laws from Kentucky are also joining us. It's going to be a full house and it's going to be awesome.

Isn't it so funny how Christmas changes as you grow up? I used to get sooo excited about Christmas morning that I literally could not sleep. Or, worse yet, I'd go to bed at like 6 pm and wake my parents at 5 am to open presents. Maybe if they hadn't spoiled me so much, Christmas morning wouldn't have the same thrill factor. Literally, one year--I think I was three--they got me so many presents that I got tired of opening them and refused to open any more. I'm not exactly saying that with pride, folks.

Nevertheless, this year I still made a mental Christmas list. It's changed a bit from Barbie Dream Houses and cell phones and purses. This year, it looked more like food processors, pot holders, cook books, digital cameras, and gift certificates to Lowe's. I am officially old. My Christmas list is more grown-up than ever. But I guess it's all relative.

Here in the airport, they're playing one of my favorite Christmas songs. Not 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. Not 'Feliz Navidad'. No, not even 'I'll Be Home For Christmas', although it's a good one.

'Grown-Up Christmas List' has always made me get a little choked up. You probably know what I mean, cause the chorus goes a little like this:

No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.

That everyone would have a friend,
That right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my Grown Up Christmas List.

Kinda breaks your heart, doesn't it? Mostly because we all know that such wishes are likely to go unanswered. But wishing, hoping, and trying can always help. I think we all wish for such things. But in the meantime, there's nothing wrong with hoping you'll get an iPhone, or a new pair of boots, or a leather-bound copy of your favorite Austen novel also.

What's on your Christmas lists? Tangible and intangible items alike?

Wedded Bliss, Two Years in the Making

2008-12-11T21:26:00.000-08:00

It's been a little quiet here at All Growns Up, nay? I don't know just what has gotten in to me. Wait, yes I do: the Christmas spirit. That's what.

Actually, this is a busy time of year at my house. Thanksgiving. Hubster's birthday. Anniversary. Christmas...what? Anniversary? That's right, two years ago on December 10th, the big J and me were tying the proverbial knot. It was good times, folks, good times. (See left.)

So last night, on the official anniversary date, we were obligated to go to the company Christmas party, which is always a thrill. So instead we're going to head out for a little night on the town on Friday.

But on any anniversary, I think it's only natural to think about how much you love and adore your spouse. You think of all the wonderfully sweet and precious things they've done in the past and you get a warm fuzzy feeling. However, I couldn't help thinking of a recent incident in which my own efforts to share my husband's love of football came to a painful and tragic ending.

It was Monday Night Football, I believe. The game was over and the favored team must have won cause hubs was in a good mood. I was too. In fact, I would go so far as to say I was in a 'great' mood because when hubs suggested that we go outside and 'throw the football', this sounded like a good idea to me.

Now, the football in question was not a softy Nerf egg-shaped variation that lands on the ground with a 'poof'. It was more like an NFL-quality, full-size pig skin around which my little handsies could barely get a grip. And it was dark. And I generally excel in sports like running, or cycling, or yoga.

I'd have to say, I was pretty proud of myself. We got quite a few could passes in. But my finger that normally looks like this:

Looked like this before it was all over:

The things we do for love. It's still a little sore and it's been about three weeks. Love is a battlefield, so they say. Any folks out there have any genuine battle scars from the Love and Marriage scene?

Anywho, Happy Anniversary, hon. Two years down, fifty million to go. You're totally worth having a finger that looks like a sausage.

'Grown Up Girl' Renee Coates, Hana Artist and creator of 52 Pieces!

2008-11-19T12:37:00.000-08:00

Call me crass, but I love stereotypes. I do. Denis Leary was just talking today on 'The View' (I haven't watched the show in years, I promise) about how we should just embrace stereotypes because, well, they exist. Plus, they're fun. Sometimes.

Take the 'starving artist' for example. Every body knows one. I know one, or five. In fact, I thought artists only came in two categories: the ones that make it big and those who starve. Picassos and waiters. You know the drill.

However, that was until I met the fabulous miss Renee Coates! (Thank you TwentySomethingBloggers!) Renee has done what so many artists dream of. She sustains a living based on her artwork and creatively delivers her art to the masses.

And she does not merely fling paint at a canvas from a five foot distance and call it art. I mean, she's amazing: vibrant colors and incredible skill celebrate even the simplest and most humble of subjects and invite each viewer to see the world around them in technicolor. My personal favorite is her 'Hana Ranch'.

But how does an artist--even a talented one at that--convert a hobby into a business? Well, Renee has made art a part of everyday life since her early days growing up in Hana-Maui.

But after graduating from high school, she took her passion to next level and got a degree in Textile and Surface Design from the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan. That's right. Maui to Manhattan. Renee now splits her time between the peaceful hills of Chapel Hill, North Carolina and Hawaii, the source of her inspiration.

However, to really take her career to the next level, Renee saw beyond her canvas. Instead of reserving her work for only the elite customers of art galleries, Renee created ways for everyone to enjoy her creations. She knew she was worth the high prices her big clients were willing to pay for her work, but she wanted to share it with everyone.

With that, she embarked on a new endeavor of photographing and printing her paintings. Her images adorned note cards, post cards, prints, and other merchandise that were then sold in hotels and giftshops. It was an investment that paid off in the end.

Renee also wanted individuals outside the uber-rich circles to have the opportunity to own originals, not just post card copies. So she created 52 Pieces.

Every week, Renee creates an original piece that is then sold on her blog, 52 Pieces. Each piece is sold at an affordable price and everyone can have a Renee Coates original hanging in their home...if they act quickly! In fact, go to her blog now and subscribe for a chance to win a calendar featuring past images from 52 Pieces. Here's how it works:

1. 52 Pieces has a free "subscription" service where people can get each week's painting delivered to their email inbox. Subscribers are the first to see the paintings when they are posted, and never miss out on the latest artwork!

2. On November 27th at 11:52 p.m. (EST), 52 Pieces will hold a drawing from a list of new subscribers and send 25 people a free calendar.

3. Here it is!

Don't buy the same old black and white Paris calendar this year. Spring for something a little more unique. Didn't snag the original but still want one of Renee's awesome 52 Pieces? Renee's devoted followers will soon be able to order limited edition prints of her Pieces at 52Prints.com which launches December 1st!

The moral of the story? No, you don't have to make it as a world famous artist before you can make a living doing what you love. A little investment, creativity and determination, artists can live well and devote themselves to their work. If that's what being a grown up really is, that sounds like fun to me.

(You can also get Renee's coloring book, 'The Road to Hana', at Amazon.com.)

New Feature!: Grown Up Girls

2008-11-18T14:49:00.001-08:00

As you well know, I am in full support of self-employment. I tend to discuss it ad nauseum. Ever since I became self empoyed...myself...it's been somewhat of an obsession of mine. It's been about four months now and I'm even more in love with it now than I was when I started. Being the boss totally rocks.

Why? Well, you get to do what you want. Work when you want. And make as much money as you want (sort of). And it's among the ultimate grown up steps in my book. Right up there with buying a house and getting a 401k.

It's also the ultimate fabulous lifestyle, basically. My typical day usually looks about like this:

-wake up
-drink a few cups of coffee, er, tea
-linger over a book/news/nothing for about an hour
-work out
-take shower
-COOK lunch
-get to work

Yeah, it's the best life a girl could ask for. Yet, so few people actually get to enjoy a life that's this bangin' awesome! I know, it's a drag.

See, it's a little tough to break out of the little assembly line. It definitely takes a bit 0' determination and creativity. And to do something that you actually like is a whole different story.

That's why I'm pretty much tickled pink everytime I meet a fellow 'boss', particularly of the female variety. Nothing against the male version, I just have an affinity for the lady boss. I'm sure you can imagine why.

That being said, I've decided to celebrate these ultra-grown up girls in a new feature here at All Growns Up that I'm calling...'Grown-Up Girls'. Try not to become breathless over my creativity. Check in every now and again for the latest git 'er dun story from a gal that decided that she'd sign her OWN checks, thank you very much.

Tune in tomorrow for the first installment! And I'm happy to say that we're kicking off this new series with oh-so-fabulous, oh-so-talented, and my friend over at 52 Pieces, Hana artist Renee Coates. She's fab, y'all! Check it out.

Oh and it's been a week since I've had a drop of coffee. I'm as stunned as you are.

Farewell, My Love

2008-11-13T15:46:00.000-08:00

Something is horribly and scarily wrong with me. My husband thinks so too. I don't know what brought it on, but you ever have those moments of frightening clarity after which you slap your forehead and say, "That's IT! I'm done!"

I had one of those. Except it was about a dear, dear old friend. In fact, I'm getting a little teary right now while I'm writing this.

After many, many, many years of waking up to a fresh cup of hot coffee, and then maybe another or five, I've decided to give it up.

I know. Shocking.

Here's what happened: I got started thinking about all the ways my coffee drinking affects my life. No, not the copious amounts of cream and sugar, or the probably life threatening effects of caffeine. I'm talking about the logistical stuff.

Literally, I can't do ANYTHING until coffee has met my lips. Nothing. Nada. Which sort of prevents the whole go-to-the-gym-first-thing-in-the-morning fantasy that I've had going for a couple of years now.

No kidding, a few months ago, we went camping in Yosemite National Park with some friends of ours. Amazing. Gorgeous. But you know what entered my mind almost the moment after I agreed to the trip? "What am I going to do about COFFEE???"

It's pathetic. Not to mention, I have an $80 Dr. Schultz liver cleanse that I have not been able to bring myself to do because it means giving up coffee--and food really--for a good five days. Which translates to a slow and painful death. Why would anyone want to do a liver cleanse with or without coffee you might ask? Eh, general health and longevity, that kind of stuff... (Dr. Schultz has all kinds of healthy goodies, check it out.)

Now, I've talked before about how coffee is so much more than a beverage. I know there will be days when I'll miss my mommy and the only thing that will make it better is a cup of Joe. This is precisely the reason why I'm not giving up coffee forever. In fact, I'm sure I'll drink plenty over Christmas vacation. That and whisky-spiked eggnog--with my mother.

But from now on, coffee is going to be the exception, rather than the rule. Can I get an Amen on that one?

Will let you know how it goes. Number of days without coffee? Two.

(Photo courtesy of Tosti Studios, a cup of the legendary Monument Cafe coffee.)

Print, Fax, and Scan, Oh My!

2008-11-10T15:12:00.000-08:00

Um, okay, so I think we should dub October (and the first part of November) the month-of-inconsistent-blogging. The record of posts is absolutely pathetic. My excuse? A snowstorm of projects, a trip to Texas, a wedding, a death in the family (poor Yeti-dog), a presidential election (congratulations Barack), and, of course, True Blood. Yes, it would accurate to say that it's been ONE HELL OF A 30 DAYS. But I'm glad to say that I'm back.

I took the whole weekend off this weekend. I watched t.v. Had breakfast with the hubster. Threw the ball with the Quinn-dog. Almost didn't check my email. It was great. Hadn't had a weekend off in....weeks.

However, I had time to think about things like: the fact that my house is a mess, and I need to buy my Christmas cards, and I need to start going to the gym beFORE new year's resolution season.

With that, I had today all planned out. Up, gym, home, breakfast, shower, and work, work, work. Take the dog for a walk, cook dinner, more laundry, you know the drill. Domestic diva type shenanigans.

Instead I slept until 7:45. And then watched Good Morning America until 10am, then decided to rearrange my office until noon. I am officially the queen of procrastination.

Truthfully, the only thing that makes my office an 'office' is the fact that I sometimes work in there and it houses my laptop. Sometimes. It doesn't have a fax machine, or a phone, or a printer, or any of that officey stuff. Of which I am CONSTANTLY reminded because clients are always wanting me to scan, fax, and creatively transmit various documents. Ugh.

I am in total resistant to this crap. And I don't know why. It's perfectly logical for them to assume that I--a professional--would have a fully equipped office. Alas, I do not.

I say that I don't have a printer for 'environmental reasons,' which is almost true. Printers almost always lead to obsessive and unnecessary printing. But the truth is that I'm too cheap and lazy to get all this stuff.

Like today, the account at one of my client's office sends me this fancy schmancy W-9 form. It was like a living thing...which is why I couldn't operate it. I wrote her to tell her as much and I could hear the irritation in her response: 'You're going to have to print it and sign, and then fax, scan and email, or mail it.'

Ugh. This will take up my whole Tuesday.

Am I alone in my unwillingness to print, fax, and scan? Am I just being a baby? I think I already know the answer. Just thought I'd check anyway.

It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times

2008-11-04T23:12:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I've quasi-abandoned this here blog. The level of business has been at a record high and I've been forced to make some radical cuts to my daily tasks. However, the end to the madness is in sight and I will return to my normal routine. Yessss...

However, even in the midst of this hectic schedule of mine, a day like today seemed like the day of all days for a little bit of blogging.

You know, for the last few months, I've been remembering stories too often told by one of my favorite English professors in college, one Dr. David Gaines. He taught the lone course on Bob Dylan and looked not unlike the Mad Scientist from Back to the Future. Uh-huh, he was quite a sight.

Dr. Gaines, God bless him, has been an undergraduate student at Stanford during the tumultuous 60s and would give us accounts of anti-war protests and Black Panther rallies on campus. "They were strange times," he'd say. "Strange times."

I'll confess, I often felt a twinge of jealousy that he'd lived during such a historic, colorful, and 'strange' time. I wished I could have experienced it myself.

I got my wish.

These certainly are strange times, and I'm sure somewhere (specifically Georgetown, TX), Dr. Gaines is saying those same words to a Contemporary American Literature class. And I find that I am painfully aware of it. Be careful what you wish for.

This time in American history will be written about in history books and discussed in classrooms. Wars are being fought. There are planets and economies to save. Worst of all, our country is divided. Obamians versus McCainians. Republicans versus Democrats. Conservatives versus liberals. In the last year, I've been pitted against my family, my friends, my co-workers. Needless to say, it's been hard on us all. You might say that our nation is wounded.

Today as I walked into the voting booth, I'll be honest, I really did not know who I was going to vote for. Uh-huh, I was one of those dreaded 'undecideds'. There is so much at stake and so many unknowns that I was mentally and emotionally paralyzed. I'd studied the policies and positions. I'd done my research. In the end, it came down to a gut decision. Scary, I know.

The candidate I chose did not win tonight. But even if he had, I know I would be asking myself the very same questions, "Is he the man that he professes to be? Will he be true to his word? Will he maintain the pillars of this country that we love?"

That remains to be seen. We can only hope. In the meantime, I will continue to hold a picture of a better America. One of unity, tolerance, and faith.

Photo courtesy of www.mensvogue.com.

LIKE the SAT, but 'funner'

2008-10-25T08:20:00.001-07:00

I gotta tell ya: trying to juggle work responsibilities while traveling/on the road/playing is a little tricky. Needless to say, I'm doing very well at it this week while I'm visiting the fam in Texas. However, if I had real J-O-B, I wouldn't be here at all so...I'm gonna take what I can get.

In other news, I cannot stop thinking about/playing with FreeRice.com! OMG, it's amazing. Brush up on your art history, vocabulary, mathematical skills, etc. through never ending quizzes on FreeRice.com and for every question you get right, they donate 10 grains of rice for starving people around the world!

My thoughts exactly. Ten grains, what a joke. That's not even a full bite. But last night alone, I racked up over 6000 grains of rice. And it was a hella fun.

Check it out!

MIA, The Piano, and College Memories

2008-10-21T17:57:00.001-07:00

So I've been totally M.I.A. the last week. I'm going to blame the overflow of work I've been accumulating. I am slammed, y'all, SLAMMED. But hey, I'm not complaining. It sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not.

Anywho, in the midst of all this work I'm doing, I've also watched The Piano like three times this week. It's on OnDemand, you see. I know it's an oldie, but it may have worked it's way into my top ten. Who knew Harvey Keitel could be sexy.

See, usually, the mere thought of this movie made me go 'ugh'. I get that way about some movies sometimes. I don't know why. Slingblade is one of them. I refuse to watch it.

Why I was so against The Piano, I couldn't tell you. Historically, I love Jane Campion. I was one of the few folks that liked In the Cut and her The Portrait of a Lady is definitely one of my all time faves. It's weird, but you've got to see it. Amazing.

Honestly, you could probably blame it all on my college women's literature professor. She loved The Piano. And Jane Campion. And Harvey Keitel. She managed to bring it up in just about every class I ever had with her. By senior year, I was sick of hearing about it.

Speaking of which, some pretty shocking news from the Southwestern front. Steve Brandt, my senior cycling teacher and the head swim coach at SU, was found dead in his home last Thursday. Thirty three years old. A fine-tuned athlete. And they don't know why, according to my internet research.

I remember distinctly him ranting about how cycling was one of the few sports left because one person always won and every one else lost. "Running's not a sport. If you cross the finish line, you get applause. 'Everybody wins.' In cycling, if you're not first, you lose. End of story." Cool guy, to say the least. And gone WAY before his time. And I got more than one good quote out of him before the semester was up.

Some of my best stories are from the college class room. Gotta love the eccentric ramblings of the intelligentsia. That's probably why I love Richard Russo's Straight Man because that's pretty much all it's about. Crazy college professors, their paranoia and over analysis. It's a hoot.

If there's no other reason why you'd go to college, you should just to experience professorial mayhem. Apparently, academia makes people weird. Or so I'm told.

Got any good tales from the crypt, er, college classroom?

To Sneak or Not to Sneak

2008-10-13T13:09:00.000-07:00

Confession, y'all. I did a bad thing. I know I should feel sort of guilty about it, yet I slept like a baby last night. Ugh, the torment!

See, I've been a pretty straight-laced kinda gal. Don't much care for breaking the rules. But then I'm not sure if it's because I want to do the right thing--or because I don't want to get caught doing a bad thing. Oooo....

At the movies with the hubs and a friend this weekend (we saw Body of Lies, not bad, not bad), we had the idea to go for a double-header. You know, two movies, one night. It's fun, you should try it. Anywho, so we start roaming around the halls to find a movie that a) we want to see and b) hasn't already started. We land on Burn After Reading which, as fate would have it, started in only fifteen minutes.

Now, I just assumed that we would exit the theatre, purchase tickets, and re-enter as good, law-abiding citizens would do. However, as hubs and friend got that devilish twinkle in their eyes, I realized that this was not the plan.

And so...we did it. We casually entered the theatre as if we were paying customers only...we weren't.

Now, it wasn't a sold out theatre or anything. And there were a few other folks in there. And the theatre runs the movie anyway, whether there's people watching or not. So...what's the big deal, right?

Not ironically, there was something wrong with the film and Burn After Reading--which really isn't that good anyway, to my shock and awe--was a little bit blurry the whole time. We couldn't complain of course because we didn't have any tickets, you see. Karma, leave me be.

Under the circumstances described above, was it wrong to sneak into said movie? I can't lie, I feel a little guilty about it. But then the hubs says I'm just being a baby. And Friend gave me a speech about the importance of civil disobedience.

Thoughts, rebels?

THE Monument Cafe

2008-10-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

Calling all Georgetownians, Southwesternians and alumni... It is the time, of all times, to stand up in honor of the most nostalgic, the most picturesque, most truly wonderful cafe in all of Texas and perhaps even the world: The Monument Cafe.

I have finished more than one college paper while sitting at their granite counter. I have sipped more than one cup of coffee and I have cried more than one tear while dining at this particular establishment that is delicately perched on Austin Avenue in Georgetown, Texas.

Don't you want to go where everybody knows your name? I do. And believe me, I dream of the comfort of The Monument Cafe. Its delicious coffee. The special quiche. And even the occasional, and I do mean, occasional, slice of key lime or--for Heaven's sake--the Monument Chocolate Pie.
It is a slice of sheer heaven and I only hope that when I die, I get to spend the afterlife sitting in the corner round booth, sipping a hot cup of fresh brewed, and shootin' the breeze with my favorite crew from good ole Mother Earth.

Based on the crowd that forms in front of the Monument on any given day, it's safe to say that I'm not the only one who feels this way. Which is why The Monument Cafe is the only cafe in Texas worthy of Texas Monthly's cover story for December--'The Best Small Town Cafes'.

How do we make it happen? How do we give back to those from whom we've received so much? Email April Hinkle, Texas Monthly representative, at ahinkle at texasmonthly dot com and put in a good word for the ole Monument. Time's a'wastin', deadline for submission is October 23rd. Spread the word, y'all. Let's do this thing.

April, get ready. Email mania is in store for you. And after one bite of Two Alarm Chili, you won't know how you've survived up to that point.

(Photo courtesy of http://www.themonumentcafe.com/.)

Verbal Girl and Behind Enemy Lines...

2008-10-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a little lop-sided, y'all. I mean, I love all things Google. Really. Who wouldn't? My life isn't the same since Gmail, and Google Docs, and Picasa. Everything they touch turns to solid gold.

But...

I had no idea that WordPress would be so flippin' awesome. I know that Google could probably kick me off of here for saying this but...I really like WordPress. A lot.

Now here's the deal: Blogger is infinitely more user friendly. You log in. You make post. You post post. WordPress, there's all these different buttons, bells and whistles, etc. A technologically challenged person (myself) could get a little overwhelmed. But as soon as I saw all of the different 'themes' I was immediately in blog-lust.

So...I had already decided to start a new blog--not a replacement blog, but ANOTHER blog--on Blogger, but I think I'm going to be with WordPress on this one. However, my loyalty to Google/Blogger remains.

New blog you say? Yes, I say. You could call it a one woman book club: I read it and tell you about it. It seems appropriate for a girl who majored in books--even though it meant that she probably wouldn't be able to find a job. Ahh, such is life. Anywho, stop by Verbal Girl for a little book review action. Oooh! I can't wait.

You're Fired

2008-10-02T11:45:00.000-07:00

I've decided to bail out on the True Blood/vampire obsession for a while, mainly because I really want those 'Get Permanent Vampire Fangs Fast!' Google Ads to go away from my blog. That's just weird. I don't endorse those shenanigans. Wait, I said 'vampire', shoot.

It's only appropriate to turn our attentions to the obsessions of others, i.e. the whole country, and focus on this whole Wall Street crisis/Election foofaraw. I know! You're bored already, but wait, I'm getting to it.

So...

Office life, well, it's a drag. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that it's hell on earth. The whole concept that any one person can be consistently productive for eight hours straight, day after day, is completely absurd. Which is why, as you probably already know, I decided to scrap the whole idea. I now enjoy the luxuries of a home office, which is about as close as you can get to dying and going to Heaven, by the way. You should try it, really.

But I have to give credit where it's due, which means that I can't mention my now self-employed arrangement without giving a nod to Tim Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week, world-traveller, world record holder, and time-management guru.

On the back of this book, it says "Warning: Don't Read this Book Unless You Want To Quit Your Job." Uh, yeah. That warning is for real, because I read it and then I quit my job.

Basically, ole Tim is all about liberating people from the silliness of corporate America so that they can have their cake and eat it too. Make money AND have a life. I know, what a novel concept. He even has all kinds of facts and figures in the book about how some major corporations have transitioned to seemingly radical results-oriented, off-site working arrangements for their employees only to see sales and productivity rise while costs and expenses go down. Yet, still, so many bosses, CEOs, managers and supervisors get their jollies seeing folks chained to a desk.

But from my own working-from-home transition, I've seen some pretty amazing things. One, I'm not miserable anymore. That's a big one. Two, I'm healthier because I don't have to eat 'break room' food anymore. But...

Here's the clincher: I only endured a fifteen minute commute to work, but I am saving boat loads of dough on gas. Probably $250 a month. Yes, really. Granted, I drive a gas guzzler (to my everlasting shame) but still, with gas prices causing aneurysms across America, my savings are probably about par for the course. In these economic times, that amount of money can make the difference between making it and not making it. If you have a mortgage, you know exactly what I mean.

Considering I had a relatively pathetic commute, imagine what more work-from-home-ing could do for the environment! Many people, especially in the North San Francisco Bay area, drive all the way to the city to work. That's about two hours of driving PER DAY. Whoa. No wonder I'm wearing shorts in October.

Basically, working from home isn't just about laziness, it's about some radical environmental reform! It's time to fire the boss, y'all. Or at least fire the office. Don't think, just do it.

Coming Soon to a Theatre Near You: Towelhead

2008-09-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, I actually read an article in Texas Monthly about this up-and-coming movie even before the recent obsession with all things Alan Ball. (Aside: Alan Ball is the writer/creator of Six Feet Under, American Beauty, and, of course, True Blood.) Yes, I think it's okay to say 'towelhead' if it refers to the a movie/book and not an actual person that might be offended by such a reference...maybe.

Apparently, some local Islamic groups have been a little offended by the title. But being that the novel of the same name was written by a woman who refers to herself, lovingly as a, er, 'towelhead,' I don't really know what there is to be offended about. Would the African American community be offended at a book entitled...well, you know. I've heard Chris Rock and I kinda don't think so? (Which by the way, his latest routine is hilarious.)

But if you have an immediate reaction to the title, you can pretty much bet the ranch that you'll be squirming in your seat through the whole movie. Here's what you're looking at: a thirteen-year-old half American, half-Lebanese girl named Jasira is sent to live with her father after her mother discovers her (the mother's) boyfriend has relieved Jasira's 'lady parts' of all of her follicular adornments. Upon arriving in Houston to begin a new life with her newly Christian yet highly traditional Lebanese father, Jasira launches into a hysterical, tragic, and albeit controversial journey of sexual exploration, with the help of her pedophilic middle-aged white neighbor. Not exactly your typical coming of age story.

Which is of course why I'm dying to watch it! And it doesn't help that it's set in Houston, Texas, where I grew up. And it couldn't be a more perfect place to tell a story about things that are a little strange going on behind closed doors. And it demonstrates Houston/Texas as the melting pot that it really is--and a fast-paced business world where people get up, go to work in their high-rise office buildings, and go home. But then maybe they can't stand the heat. Or the traffic. I don't know.

Anyway, Towelhead (the movie) was released to select cities on September 12th, which of course means that is hasn't been seen in any of my local theatres. That being said, I think I'll pick up the book by Alicia Erian (above). Thanks, Alicia, for writing a NEW story about the Middle Easterner's experience. I'm so done with jihad, wars, mutilation and tragic death. I swear, if I have to read one more of those, I'll be depressed with suicidal tendencies. Did anyone else try to fight their way through Infidel? I'd rather get a sharp stick in the eye.

(Photos courtesy of Amazon.com and MetroActive Books.)

Grown-up Fights and the End of an Era

2008-09-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

Remember when you used to get in fights with your friends on the playground? Like, you took my favorite My Little Pony so I'm going to push you off the monkey bars? Or in the lunchroom when you friend embarrassingly throws a French fry at you and you never forgive him? Or in highschool when you're told that your girlfriend is talking about how stupid your outfit is in the bathroom? Then you three way call her with two other friends and give her a piece of your mind?

These are moments that I do not miss now that I'm a grown up. I mean, I never really partook of these choice memories as a youngster anyway, but when you're forced to socialize with other ankle-biters, sometimes you just find yourself in a mess.

Well, recently, I had my first grown up fight. It sucked. It was over money, of course, with the accountant at my former employer--who happens to also be a good friend. Ugh, it was just weird. There was a misunderstanding and then there was all of this weird email communication. Dude, so awkward.

I'd pretty much resigned myself to the fact that we'd probably never speak again. Confession: I'm not very good at apologizing, getting real, patching things up, etc. My fights are usually pretty ugly mostly because they just sort of...go away. They don't really end. Anyway, so the sad painful truth about being a grown up is that there's still grown up drama (outside of marriages and romantic relationships, of course).

She, the accountant/friend, that is, is much more grown up than I, however. After only one communication-less week, she emailed me to say that "we're friends, and friends work things out," that she was sorry for her part in the miscommunication, etc. Awww! I know. So awesome. Being a grown up kinda rocks sometimes.

In other news, that I'm sure you've already heard because this is NOT a news blog, the great Paul Newman has become the great, late Paul Newman. I've been dreading this day. I still remember the first time I watched From the Terrace with my mom and watched the saucy romance unfold with the rich brat played by his real-world, life-long spouse Joanne Woodward. Mmm-MMM. Good stuff.

Or his escapades with Liz Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof as the angry, resentful Brick. He was stud-licious even as a drunk. I knew this day would come eventually, but I guess I secretly hoped it wouldn't.

A life lived well, I'd say. Scathingly handsome, blindingly talented, and deeply good. What a guy.

(Photo courtesy of LA Times, scene with Joanne Woodward from From the Terrace.)

Bookshelf Finds and WTF Romo?

2008-09-28T19:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry I spaced for a week or so guys. It has been one HECK of a crazy week. I blame the insane number of concurrent projects and due dates or maybe it was the watching of True Blood over and over on OnDemand? Not really sure...

Any way, a new episode of True Blood comes on TONIGHT! and I'm so excited. In fact, can hardly contain myself.

Truthfully, what started the whole fascination with the show was a promotional diddy that HBO did on vampire mythology and how it's evolved through literature and film. If you haven't seen it yet, it's time to cue up your cable. It blew my socks off--mostly because I haven't had a quasi-intellectual conversation about books of any kind since my senior year of college--but mostly because I'd never really given the vampire genre a fair shot.

Who knew that Bram Stoker's Dracula was the first real vampire story? And the idea of the suave, charming and well-dressed vampire didn't come along until years later via Hollywood? Well, and according to the wealth of religious, mythology, and anthropology experts commenting on the topic, the whole genre is the study of the 'other'--the abnormal--and Anne Rice is the 20th century Stoker in terms of her contribution to the vampire myth--a tragic hero, tortured by his remnant humanity and the reality of his savage-like nature. Their words, not mine.

Mostly, I couldn't believe that I had missed the apparent obsession with vampires. It's so true! We have a cultural obsession with vampires more so than any other mythical monster--why that obsession has endured I do not know. But there are even people out there that really believe they're vampires--like with teeth, and they even, like, drink blood. I know.

With that, I decided to dive in. So I picked up this omnipresent Twilight --pretty much everyone and their mom is reading it. So I figured it had to be good. It's basically about a stand-offish highschool girl that falls in love with a school mate--that happens to be a vampire. I'm telling you, I cannot put it down! It's apparently for a teen audience so it does get a little tedious at times. If you're expecting the sex, drugs, and rock and roll of True Blood, you won't get it here. A little Harlequin-y for my taste. But it is a quick, delightful weekend read. And you can get it in hardback for about eight bucks. Nice.

Nevertheless, I think I'll pick up one of Charlaine Harris's books next--the series on which True Blood is based. Or I might even bite off a big one and go for Stoker...WHO KNOWS. You just never know WHAT I'm going to do, I'm a wild woman.

Speaking of which, I was a wild woman today and in PUBLIC--at the local sports bar because Cali TV stations are the antichrist and will not air a Dallas game if it means the locals don't get to watch the 49ers lose...again. But then I think that Tony Romo must be getting his tips from San Francisco because Dallas totally blew it today. Why can't he play the whole game the way he plays in the last two minutes? Get it together, mon. Ugh, it was kinda painful.

HBO Does It Again

2008-09-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

I'm a little embarrassed. I joined the ranks of the Starbucks Crazies this morning. Standing in line to get my pound of beans and complimentary coffee, I saw a girl carrying a copy of Twilight, you know that vampire series that's selling like hotcakes? I could feel the lunacy coming on but I just couldn't stop myself.

She had that look in her eye like she just wanted me to go away. But the fact is: I just had to tell someone! I'd be doing her a great disservice if I didn't tell her about my new discovery, which happens to be the greatest thing since Carrie Bradshaw...

Okay, that might be stretching it, Carrie's a pretty special lady. But I'm sorry y'all, True Blood--HBO's latest contribution to humanity--is a thin slice of heaven. Before you roll your eyes, I've got to tell you I was in complete resistance to it, I don't really do the vampire thing. Even Brad Pitt couldn't entice me. Never did the Anne Rice thing. I've never even worn black lipstick, y'all. But I'll be straight with you, after one episode of True Blood, I was a total goner. Give me some Louisiana rednecks, a few blood-thirsty vampires, a telepathic heroine and I'm in. They 'had me at "hello"' so to speak.

True Blood is everything you'd expect from the HBO crew: sexy, steamy, dramatic, and well, a little raunchy. And you can be sure you won't be bombarded with a bunch of vampiric cliches. What's wrong with cliches? Uh, they're boring, that's what. Unless they're in the form of classic southern colloquialisms, which frankly, you can't have too many of those. Gotta love a girl that says thing like, "Oh my stars!" Awesome.

As a southern belle myself, I'm bound to have an affection for any thing that lays it all out there, you know, the 'both/and' of America's South land. Both traditional values, old-fashioned charm and a dark place where some pretty twisted stuff goes down, that whole Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil thing. It's not all Sunday dress and apple pie, y'all. And Alan Ball, of American Beauty and Six Feet Under perfection, does it right.

The love affair with TV continues! Ugh, and six whole days until the fourth episode. I'm gonna lose my marbles. THAT'S why all those Starbucks people are nuts.

(Photos courtesy of www.hbo.com)

Facebook Gets Personal

2008-09-19T18:42:00.000-07:00

You might think that Facebook is just a harmless, time-sucking, social networking hub. A place to show your 'profile' to all your friends and, consequently, the world. It's an opportunity to assert your identity, 'application' choices notwithstanding.

But these days, Facebook is getting personal in a way that is pretty hard to escape. Yes, for the most part, you can choose to participate in Facebook madness on a fairly superficial level: no "What Disney Character Am I" quizzes or paying actual money for virtual confections and other trinkets. But ever since they launched this 'Compare People' contraption, no one is safe.

Here's the rub: even if you don't spend hours comparing others on topics such as who has a better body, who's more successful, or who would you rather date--others are comparing you. I'd be fine with it, just so long as I don't have to know about it. But just wait...

Low and behold, I get these handy little updates in my email alerting me about my up-to-the-minute rankings on the sliding scale of my general sphere of influence. Let me tell you, Saint Peter himself could not resist falling down that little rabbit hole. I'll confess, y'all...I clicked.

Apparently, my strengths--according to the poll--include 'Best Singer', 'Most Kiss-able', and 'Best Shopping Companion'. (I was choir president and quite the fashionista in high school, don't judge.) But apparently, the consensus is that my weaknesses refer to my athleticism and my over all happiness! Okay, I already knew that I'm no Marion Jones. But apparently, people think I'm not happy. Period. Wha?

I'm sorry, but since when did we stop comparing people in the privacy of our subconscious and start doing so publicly via the World Wide Web? If this is not a sign of cultural decline, I don't know what is. And if anyone knows how to turn off those licentious updates, please do tell.

Is anyone else a little offended by this or am I overly sensitive?

Panic Attacks and Media Shenanigans

2008-09-18T15:34:00.000-07:00

So far, I've done alright in the grown-up department. I've done the job thing, the married thing, the mortgage thing. But I tell you what, I hate paying bills. Hate. I hate it so much that I've been known to, well, not do it, Office Space style. I just 'forget'. Luckily, the hubster is more grown-up than myself and picks up the slack. It's a trade off: he hates doing dishes so guess what that means...

It's a little strange that I have such an aversion--both mental and intellectual aversions--to all things financial. I'm not kidding: finance related data approaches the folds of my brain and quickly flees. Yes, scientific information apparently does the same. Somewhere, I am missing a chromosome because both--count them, BOTH--of my parents are in finance! Mom--accountant. Dad--Financial Planner. How they stay sane I do not know.

So growing up with a stock broker/CFP father renders a young lady a little immune to the shrieks of the media every time the market takes a little dip. But I have to admit, when I learned that Merrill Lynch, the very firm with which my father is employed, was to be sold, and that banks and firms were literally dropping like flies, I grew a little concerned. And then when MSN.com and Wall Street Journal started using words like 'crisis' and 'depression' and 'meltdown', it was clearly time to put a phone call in to Dad.

As is to be expected, dear old Dad was relatively unconcerned. No Kate, people aren't going to be wheeling their cash around in shopping carts. No, I'm not going to lose my job. Mostly, he reminded me, yet again, that it's less about how many points are lost and more about a percentage loss. "Five hundred points in a day means nothing. Twenty five percent in a day, that's something," says Dad, financier extraordinaire.

It was a little Twilight Zone-ish because he said that the market's probably declining because everyone wants to sell just in case Obama gets elected and doubles the capital gains tax, as he's promised. (Dad is still without power/TV/internet courtesy of Hurricane Ike). I turn on 'Mad Money' or some other bogus show and BAM! That's exactly what they said. Voodoo Dad.

Of course he gave me all the other hem-haw about having a 'diversified portfolio,' whatever that means... But he also said that Merrill Lynch's merge with B of A is actually a good thing? Wha? It's highly possible that he's taken the whole 'bull' market Merrill theme a little too far.

Long story short, I'm pretty much done with the media's toying with our emotions. It just makes people act crazy--like tell all their friends to sell all their stocks and then say, "See! I KNEW it was going down!" The drama, really. No wonder this country has high blood pressure.

Is anyone else done with this media foofaraw? Ugh, this is a 'Just Say "NO!" to Media' situation. (Graph courtesy of http://www.wsj.com/).

Rescue me, Tommy Gavin...

2008-09-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

I curse the day that TiVo, DVR, OnDemand, DVD series, and other such life-sucking devices came into existence. I have never watched more TV in my life. I'm totally hooked. This grown-up's self control is next to nothing.

I used to pride myself on my inability to commit to a television series. Remember when Party of Five was a big hit and all your friends were watching it? Not me, I couldn't hang in there. Friends? Nope. Saved by the Bell? Nope. Just couldn't be bothered.

Really though, I think it's just because TV is so gosh-darn awesome these days. And I'm not talking about the unoriginal, degrading poo that is reality television. (Is anyone else over Survivor?) I'm talking DRAMA. Like whoa. No, The Hills does not count.

My latest afflictions are as follows: Rescue Me, Madmen, Oz, and, shamefully, Desperate Housewives. I resisted for four straight seasons only to get completely sucked in to Wisteria Lane. But seriously, where has Tommy Gavin been all my life? His psychotic, drunken antics are so addicting and I can't get enough of the 'nostalgic' sexist charm of Sterling Advertising Agency. I tell you what, my loving husband irons his own shirts and when he's hungry, he makes himself something to eat. I don't even have a decent recipe for meatloaf.

But Oz? The details of this show are not fit to print and I find myself averting my eyes during certain fleeting moments of passion among the Oz community of inmates. It's definitely a show for grown-ups, if you know what I mean. Nevertheless, I can't decide if it's a picture of everything a prison shouldn't be or one of everything that's wrong/right with the justice system!A moral dilemma! About a television show.

Books are a thing of the past these days and at the rate I'm going, I'll be kicked out of my book club. A small price to pay. What are you guys watching instead of working these days?

(Photos courtesy of http://www.pe.com/ and http://www.hbo.com/.)

Ike Attacks and Target Treasures

2008-09-14T15:32:00.000-07:00

Texas is in a post-Ike world, today. And, it would seem, that while Ike is certainly the most devastating storm to berate the Texas Gulf Coast in a while, it definitely could have been worse. The fam is yet to 'Rambo' their way through the mess and assess the damage at the home front. The word is that my home town drew the ace...again.

My mom, she's so cute. She says to me, "See, sweetie? It wasn't that bad? What were you so worried about?" That's cause she doesn't have power back yet, which means she doesn't have air conditioning or TV, which means she hasn't the barren wasteland that is Galveston--yet.

Hurricane season keeps getting worse. In fact, some insurance carriers won't even initiate new home insurance policies on the Gulf Coast. Yeah, for real. It's 'too risky.' That nasty global warming keeps those babies a 'brewin'.

Which is why I am totally psyched up to read Thomas Friedman's newest: Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution--And How It Can Renew America. Sounds heavy, doesn't it? It probably is, which is why it'll probably take me about a month to read it. John and I were in Target at about 30 seconds to closing when I spotted it and almost hit the ceiling. Mostly because a hot, flat, and crowded scenario sounds like my idea of hell.

Historically, I've avoided his books like the plague. They're easy ones like From Beirut to Jerusalem, The Lexus and the Olive Tree. Instead I bought them for my dad for Christmas. He did all the hard work and then just told me about them. But I'm going all in on this one.

What are you guys reading these days??

Do I look like I wanna talk?

2008-09-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

After a bit of field research, I've concluded that highly-caffeinated people are prone to do things that err on the side of socially unacceptable. I know I've done some kooky stuff when hopped up on the big C. But for California's already chemically imbalanced and--let's face it--chemically altered population, strong coffee should be rationed. I know this could mean trouble for the Starbucks out there, but if I have to keep playing dead in order to not get sucked in by the crazies, I won't be going to Starbucks anyway.

Example: the other day, I was on a serious deadline for a project. Every minute mattered. So in order to avoid the distractions of housework, husbands, dogs and phone calls that are often so attractive while at the homestead, I pack up my office and headed for the local Starbucks.

The nearest Starbucks also happens to be the Crazy Starbucks. It's where all the crazy people go. Why they can't go to New York Bagel or the stand inside Safeway next door is beyond me. And for some reason, if they're in the mood for a little chat, they set their sights on me.

A slightly disheveled gentleman enters, orders coffee and sits in the chair next to me, of course. And usually, I'm up for a little banter with strangers, friendly banter, however, and preferably not when I'm working against the clock. Not only does this guy want to interrupt my money-making, he wants to veer into serious topics: family issues, how his dad's wife is a five letter word (which he hollers), how his brother is rich but won't give him any money, the election, for crying out loud. Then he wants to use my computer to look up stock quotes. Uh, no, sorry pal.

You know when you try to be polite, and you're still shaking your head and saying 'uh huh', but you want them to get the hint pronto that you DO NOT WANT TO TALK. This guy was completely oblivious.

Example 2: Here's another one from the Crazy Starbucks chronicle. Again, working. Complete with laptop. Diamond ring accompanied by wedding band conspicuously worn on left ring finger. Alas, am approached by pimply, skinny, shorty, jewelry-wearing juvenile who while fingering bits of pastry from the bag into his mouth comes up with, "Whatcha doin'."

I was stunned. I'm usually very courteous in situations like these because I know it takes a lot of courage to approach a girl. But for all of his baggy over sized clothing, I couldn't resist. He even gave me a nice head nod to complete his one-liner, but full on irritation had already set in.

"I'm working. And married." Code for 'get lost, squirt. I don't even have the patience to let you down easy.'

Are there really so many women out there that wear 'buffer' faux wedding rings that the real deal doesn't even have the power to spare you from situations like this one? I can't stands no more. Luckily, this guy was a little more perceptive and got the hint. But really? Coffee house loner--where hast thou gone?

That Time of Year Again: Hurricane Season

2008-09-11T19:37:00.000-07:00

Yes, two posts in one day, but I'd say Ike is worthy of it. Fervent prayers for all on the Texas Gulf Coast (my family, everyone I know, pretty much). Get the hell outta Dodge, y'all. Here's to Ike disappearing into thin air?

That Time of Year Again

2008-09-11T09:30:00.001-07:00

I love When Harry Met Sally... It's quite possibly the best movie Hollywood has ever made and Nora Ephron is my hero, no matter how bad her neck is. I love the part when Harry is discussing the youth of his new flame, Aunt Emily, that was revealed when he asked her 'where she was when 'Kennedy' was shot' and she said "Ted Kennedy was shot?!"

Well, I wasn't even a speck on the horizon when Kennedy was shot. But I do remember exactly where I was on this day, September 11, 2001.

I was in tutorial, the only one that morning, delivering an assignment to my crazy, senior economics teacher. She was a loon, folks. It was so quiet, all I could hear was the raspy rantings of that silly lady. Then the OTHER crazy economics teacher, 'Wild Bill', ran into the room screaming, "Turn on the T.V., they're bombing New York." Why are economics teachers so paranoid? She didn't even question who he meant by 'they'. It was if that had a common, cooky language.

She did, turn on the T.V. that is, and immediately let out this loud shriek and fell to pieces. Wild Bill ran on to share the news with his other colleagues. I'm not being mean, we called him Wild Bill to his face.

Then all day, in every class, we watched it all unfold. Except for AP Biology, where we took the regularly scheduled exam. Which I failed. Then that teacher hated me for the rest of the year because I wasn't on the doctor train. Words! Words, lady! That's what I do! Not cells and horny flies! Not that she would understand, she pronounced entropy with a 'ph'. Whatev.

Alls I'm sayin' is that in twenty, thirty, forty years, I'll still remember that day as if it were yesterday, because it was a day on which the world changed forever, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

What about you? Where were you on September 11, 2001?

Decision-making disorders

2008-09-09T15:46:00.000-07:00

I have one. Do you? And right now, I am in a major dilemma. A pickle. A quandry, if you will.

It has been almost two years of wedded bliss since I married that stud-licious husband of mine. Yet the highlight of that particular evening is still hanging in a closet at my parents' house. I'm talking about my wedding dress.

If I had to choose between my husband and that dress, I would need the cold barrel of a gun at my temple to cast my vote. (Just kidding, hon.) No but really, I love, love, love that dress. I would sleep in it if I could and I miss those times leading up to the big day when I could just watch it. And pet it.

Here's the deal though, ladies. And this is serious, so I'm going to need some input on this one. They say you should spend about 30% of your budget on the dress. Well, I blew that. A lot. In fact, the dress WAS the wedding. (Hey, I made my own wedding invitations so I could have that dress. And I LIKED it.) But it's okay because it is still the most fabulous frock I ever put my little eyes on. Now that the wedding days are behind me, this little beauty sits on a hanger, in a bag, waiting to die.

To sell or not to sell the dress, that is the question. Do I release the dove into the world for some other lovely lady to bask in its...loveliness? Or do I keep it for my own selfish, sentimental, girly reasons? What's to be done in a situation like this?

FYI: The dress in question is courtesy of Anne Barge and selected with the help of Claire at Louise Blum on Post Oak in Houston, TX. Talk about service, y'all.

Photo by Aric Hoek at Solaris Studios, Houston, TX. He will make you look fabulous.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

2008-09-08T22:34:00.000-07:00

This town kid has come a long way, folks. Once upon a time, this girl didn't like to find herself on the other side of a wall. The side where the sun shines. Unless, of course, I was on my way to the air-conditioned car. Who said people don't change?

I just spent three Utopian days in a little piece of perfection known as Yosemite National Park. One of America's better moments, I'd say. Pictures to follow. So what if you start to get a little loopy at about 10,000 feet. The nausea was totally worth it.

So I'm going to need acupuncture in order to be normal again after three nights of sleeping on the cold hard granite even while shivering my fanny off. But we did Yosemite right. We caught all of the great highlights: Half Dome, El Capitan, Bridalveil Falls. Although, I'd say that late summer probably isn't the best time of year for the waterfalls. The normally gushing spectacles were reduced to a trickle. Try early spring if you want some serious shock and awe.

We also brought along our most dedicated granola pals: Scott and Shelly. Who am I kidding, they brought us. These two are at least half billy goat, half compass. But that is to be expected. Scott spent four months in the wilderness of Wyoming and Montana. We're talking grizzly country, folks. And Shelly spent six months on the Appalachian Trail. I'd say these two like to be outside, but I don't want to misrepresent.

However, the poocher wasn't such a fan. Poor little Quinn, he's quite the house plant. So, it gets a little chilly at night at 10,000 feet elevation where we were camped. And Quinn is pretty much used to sprawling out on our bed under the covers. He lets us sleep with him. Despite his Quinn-sized hunting jacket (doggy clothes=vomit, I know), he spent the whole trip shivering and trying to crawl into our mummy sleeping bags with us. And for a dog that spends most of his time chasing a squeaking purple hippo in the yard, a ten mile hike was quite a trek. He spent most of the following day gingerly moping around the campsite. What a Drama Quinn.

Basically, who needs Cancun, Disneyland, or Vegas? If you want to really experience the world and have an unforgettable trip, you need to light out for the territory. Don't feel like you have the expertise to go it alone? Hire Shel and Scott Cundy to take you. That's right. They make a living taking unsuspecting travelers on outdoor adventure tours. Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, South America, these folks have done it all. Don't waste your hard-earned moolah on another resort vacation. Buffets are overrated.

Quickie: More web mining...

2008-09-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

If you also find yourself obsessing a little over your favorite TV show, you simply must log in to Hulu.com. Totally awesome, has episodes of just about every show imaginable that you can watch on your computer--for F-R-E-E. No, your eyes are not deceiving you. Except The Wonder Years, I don't think they have that one. Which is a bummer because I loved that show.

I'm off for a little romp in the great outdoors: headed to Yosemite for a weekend camping trip with my best hippie buddies, Shel and Scott. Yosemite: another first!

Undressed and Denis Leary's Better Half

2008-09-03T18:31:00.000-07:00

We all have our little vices, guilty pleasures, if you will. You know, the base reality tv show in which young women insist that they have real feelings for a decaying, way-past-his-prime music legend. Or that website you visit daily that is completely void of any intellectual content. You quickly navigate away when someone enters the room. We're on the same page, here.

We all have 'em. Mine just happen to be, formerly, Rock of Love, Desperate Housewives, and Kat Giantis's Undressed column on MSN.com. In general, I try to avoid getting sucked into the vortex that is celebrity gossip. But this chick is just so gosh-darn hysterical that I literally cannot control myself. My eyes glaze over and in two clicks and I'm reading her witticisms about a scantily clad Cortney Love. Today, I was digging through the archives and found this little doozy:

"No Guts, No Tori: In the chanteuse's defense, she was at Comic-Con, a safe place to let your inner kook out for a little air, although that doesn't give her license to gut an innocent beanbag chair, throw a belt around it and call it a dress. It also doesn't excuse the droopy black material surrounding Tori's calves and feet, although, curiously, not her toes. Granted, it isn't easy accessorizing a hollowed-out novelty cushion, but come on, at least try to find something resembling actual footwear, and not extra-thick leg warmers glued to a pair of sandals, or drafty moon boots, or -- and we're just spitballing here -- Batman's cross-dressing shoe of choice."

Check out the photog of Ms. Amos here. I'm quite certain that Kat and I would be besties. She's a woman after my own heart.

Speaking of addictions, when oh when is the fifth season of Rescue Me going to get rolling? That Writers' Strike managed to seriously cut into my Tommy Gavin time. I know it's horrible, UN-politically correct, and appalling--but I can't get enough of the guys from 62 Truck. I know I'm a little late on the draw on this one (after all, ever since they started selling series on DVD, my life hasn't been the same), but Denis Leary is my new fix.

But who knew that his wife, Ann Leary, was such a literary genius? She's written several books and has a killer blog on her website. She talks pretty candidly about the perks of being the wife of a famous actor, like gorgeous models flirting with your husband and being labeled 'editorial waste':

"And here’s something you might not know about red carpets: almost always, the people on the other side of it – photographers, journalists,etc are more attractive and more animated than the actual stars. You just never get to see them, but I do, because I am usually hustled off to the side so that they can photograph Denis either by himself or with another actor. I am what’s known as a waste of editorial space. Photographers will usually take photos of Denis with me, to be polite, but then will insist on some with Denis and somebody worth photographing. I hope I don’t sound bitter, because, in fact, the photographers are so gracious and good-humored about the whole thing that I’m usually thrilled to step up next to them, out of camera range. There, nestled in amongst the guys lugging the sound equipment and cameramen, I have heard some of the juiciest gossip and filthiest jokes you can imagine, and Denis usually has to drag me away."

Love! Lady writers, keep makin' me laugh. It keeps me young.

Death by Résumé

2008-09-02T22:15:00.000-07:00

Readers, when you were in your final days as a college student, did you sort of throw up in your mouth a little every time someone asked you, "So what are you going to after graduation?" Yeah, me too. I literally had no idea what I was going to do and by the time I actually did graduate, I was really tired of the taste of my own bile. Sorry to be so graphic.

The source of the nausea was all of that glaring white space on my résumé. I did well in college and participated in class. My professors liked me and gave me good grades. But still, even I knew that my résumé--that haunting wretch of a personal summary--had all the cards. And I had nary an ace up my sleeve.

With absolutely no clue as to how I might launch the glamorous career I was destined to enjoy, I spent at least a month in my pajamas on my parents' couch eating hot dogs and watching Out of Africa. Ironically, I lost weight?

Anyway, to everything there is indeed a season. I did get a job. A good one. In California. I promptly developed a fervent disgust for the working world and quit in the name of self employment exactly 1.5 years later. But I wonder, how might my life be different if I had known of a phenomenon known as "The Résumé Writer"?

More specifically, The Resume Girl. Apparently, there is no need for résumé-induced paralysis, there is a solution. I've recently been introduced to The Résumé Girl. She knows all the tricks of the trade and can write you a killer résumé in about no time flat. A business owner like myself, she makes a living coaching young hopefuls on interviewing and career tips. You can also find awesome tools and products on her website that will help ease the pain of transitioning into the real world from the warm underbelly known as...college.

I know, I get the creeps just thinking about it.

Rita, Katrina, and the Santa Maria...

2008-08-31T14:54:00.000-07:00

In case you've been living under a rock for the last week (which I have been known to do for more than a few weeks at a time), you're aware of these two things: 1. McCain picked a woman for his Vice Presidential candidate and 2. Hurricane Gustav is about to pummel, or has already pummeled, the Gulf Coast.

I've been watching this Gustav business pretty closely, as my parents and younger sister were among the two million people stranded on the Texas road-way system about this time of year in 2005. I don't think folks realize what a 'crap shoot' that whole operation really was--basically, people couldn't evacuate if they wanted to. It took the fam fifteen hours to get to Austin, normally a four hour trip. Crazy, folks. The greatest evacuation in Texas history was a complete and utter failure. Not good.

Even though I'm grateful that the home of my childhood is gonna make it through this one, my heart breaks for New Orleans because they're getting it again. And here's the thing: the Gulf keeps getting warmer each year that we shirk our responsibility to protect the environment, which means these storms will just keep getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger. You can only dodge so many bullets. Which Gulf-coastal city will get hit next? Houston, we very well may have a problem... (BTW, check out Mimi Swartz's article "How Green is My Bayou" in Texas Monthly about Houston's efforts to go green...let's keep the trend going Houstonians!)

I'm not trying to preach, folks, it's not my nature. But Lord knows we're all guilty. But it's not about left-right, North-South, Red-Blue, it's just about taking care of this pretty little planet so we can hang out on it a few more years. What's to debate about that? I don't want to go all coffee-house on you but c'mon, guys! PARK that Hummer!

On that note, who's a little freaked about this Sarah Palin move? Tricky, McCain, tricky. I'm not sure who's scarier: Hillary or Palin. Yikes! Discuss... (Or if you're already sick of it, don't discuss. Whatev.)

Celebrity Sightings in Cotati, CA (Pop. 14)

2008-08-31T14:17:00.000-07:00

I've recently made a life-altering discovery: the eggs benedict at Redwood Cafe in Cotati, CA. Perfectly soft-poached eggs, thick-sliced ham, crunchy homefries. Delish. Redwood Cafe is a pretty hip little spot that my husband scouted (by 'hip' I mean cool AND hippie, folks). Huge menu, free wireless, good coffee and good food. It's my new little spot. (See, in every town I live in, I have to find a little spot. Past hang outs include: The Monument Cafe in Georgetown, TX; Perico's in San Antonio, TX, Hallie's Diner in Petaluma, CA. Check 'em out.)

One of my fave things about California is that you never know WHAT you're gonna see even in a teensy, weensy little town like Cotati. For example, a bum clown couple carrying hula hoops and wigs at 10 am on a Sunday. True story, folks. That's what the hubby and me watched over a plate of eggs benedict last weekend at Redwood. As if I could make that up.

So this morning, this very Sunday morning over brunch, what do John and I see at our beloved little cafe? A scroungy, un-imposing little man that seemed to catch our eyes because of his unmistakeable familiarity. Scraggly hair, combat boots, a Berkeley t-shirt, a French beret. Just another fellow patron enjoying his breakfast and conversation. A little too cavalier and cool to be a bum, even though he was kinda dressed like one. All I could think was, "He kinda looks like that guy from Erin Brockovich." And Silence of the Lambs. And Philadelphia.

After some intensive Google-ing, we find out that it's this guy:

Yeah! You know who I'm talking about now, don't ya! THAT guy. He's in pretty much every movie ever. And I shared an outdoor dining space with him just this very morning. No, we didn't introduce ourselves as I was adamant that we should allow him to enjoy his breakfast sans interruptions. John fervently disagreed. Now I'm not sure which one of us gets to be right on this one. What would you do, folks?

My Carbon Footprint and Texas Monthly

2008-08-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

I recently calculated my carbon footprint. I did so with a smug grin on my face, knowing how below average it was sure to be. I mean how could it not? I recycle. I just made the move to working from home so now I don't even have a daily commute. I turn off my lights and don't have air conditioning and eat organic, locally grown food. I support environmental awareness! I don't even own a printer for goodness sakes. I'm one of the good guys! El-wrong-o.

When my CF was revealed, I was devastated. Two full tonnes over the national average. I thought surely there had been a mistake. Nay, no mistake here. Apparently I am an environmental mercenary.

In my humble defense, it was clear what lifestyle choices sent my score soaring. Confession: my husband and I bought a car last year and my vehicle of choice was a 2000 Jeep Cherokee with a V8 engine and four wheel drive. Don't worry, I'm regretting it now as it's costing $92 every time I fill up. I've repented my sins. However, the real culprit was shocking: my 3-4 round trip airplane trips to Texas. Truthfully, without this unavoidable necessity, my footprint WOULD have been below average. But NEWSFLASH! Air travel wreaks havoc on the environment.

I can honestly say that I had NO idea. But now I do. And it just motivates me to work really hard to counter act the effects of the occasional trips to the airport that I'm afraid I cannot eliminate.

I calculated my carbon footprint at this pretty cool website. The coolest thing about it is that it has TONNES of suggestions for reducing your carbon footprint. You can make commitments on the site as to which steps you're going to take and when. Accountability, folks!

On the topic of environmentalism, you folks ever pick up a copy of Texas Monthly? I know it has Texas in the title but don't judge. It's one of my faves. In this month's issue:

Jim Atkinson goes to the dark side and tells readers to stop hyperventilating about the environmental crisis and just do something about it in "Trash Talk." It's a hoot, folks. And if you kinda want to learn how to compost, look no further. A Texan talking about recycling? Believe it.

I'm BACK and Ginny Woolf

2008-08-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

I do feel a little bit guilty as I have not been very attentive to this here blog. I haven't been attending to its basic needs which are...posts. A blog just isn't a blog without posts. But the time has finally arrived and I am now--officially--free of the day job shennanigans. I work when I want with the people I want where I want. There's not much to complain about these days and I should have plenty of time for postings. Awesome.

One of the coolest things about working from home is that you get to have a home office. You also get tons of tax benefits, but they pale in comparison to the excitement of the home office. See, my first day on the job wasn't very productive, mostly because my office was a ghastly mess and I couldn't even begin to think in there. With that, I temporarily had to share work spaces with my husband. After a day of zero--and I do mean ZERO--productivity, I knew that this 'work' could not continue until I had a room of my own that even Virginia Woolf would be proud of.

"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction," that's what she said. Well, I'm not writing fiction...yet, but I am writing and these days, my home office is my favorite room in the house. In the last five days, I've spent almost 100% of my waking time in this room. Yeah, I love it. And I actually look forward to working because it means I get to be in my ultra-cool space.

In this room, I get to cram all of my coolest Craigslist finds. (Aside: I will never, ever, ever buy brand new furniture. It's over-priced and it doesn't have near the character that my 'garage sale' pieces have. Plus, recycling furniture is a fun and creative way to live green.) For example, my gold velour wing chair with about a million tufts that I bought from a newly-divorced gal in Cotati for $35. Or my gold-leaf, Italianate nesting tables that I got at Skip Domingo's Auction for $10. Or my two ultra-chic, fire engine red, flow form chairs that I've paired with the Duncan Fyfe-esque drop leaf table, er, desk that I bought for $30 dollars from a gal in Santa Rosa as she was getting ready to move to the Big Apple. My husband calls it clash-tastic, I call it eclectic.

Don't work from home but still kind of want your 'own room' to do artsy fartsy stuff like knit, paint, write, make collages from old Vogue issues, or--Heaven forbid--scrap book? Associate editor Amy Shearn for Dominomag.com has some great tips for making your own creative space and gives all the necessary props to Ginny for thinking of the idea in the first place. (This website/magazine ROCKS, guys. It's where I found inspiration for my own room. Check it out!)

Pretty cool, huh? By the way, if anybody spies an original Saarinen tulip chair like the one in the picture and/or an original tulip dining table for a reasonable price on SF Bay Area Craigslist, holler at me. Happy space-making!

All play, no work...

2008-07-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

So the countdown has begun. I have officially twelve and one half days left in the office. If you've spoken to me within the last year and half since I entered the workforce, you've probably heard me complain pathetically about it--the workforce that is. I'm done, folks. Which is why I'm now a proud member of the freelance world and so far, things are looking up. Here's why:

So last week, I went to Scottsdale, Arizona for one of my new writing clients, um, that has now become my favorite client, for the record. Scottsdale is apparently the next LA in case you haven't heard. I'm a small town girl that loves a bargain, which is why I almost wet my britches when I learned that after arriving in Phoenix, a lovely car was going to pick me up and deliver me to my hotel, the Kierland Westin. Nice.

Little did I know that the chauffeur and fancy hotel goodness was just the beginning. After a sprinkling of work, we head over to our dinner location, Mastro's Ocean Club. Mind you, there are no oceans even close to Scottsdale, they can dream. This place is 'fly', folks. So fancy, in fact, that a lovely young lady hands you a towel after washing your hands in the bathroom. I'm a spry, able-bodied young woman and can reach the eight inches for my own towel, but that's beside the point. Maybe she's just there to ensure that you do indeed wash your hands, but I was impressed just the same.

We're there with about fifteen or so of their top people and for a bunch of over achievers, these people know to party. The wait staff is passing around the tequila shots before they've even placed the bread baskets. I'm thinking it could be a long night when the CEO stands and declares that he's going to make 'a few toasts' and informs the wait staff that as he's doing this, a few people might consume their shot of Patron tequila and when they do, to promptly bring them another one. Yikes.

So we're about a third of the way around the table for toasts/introductions and I'm plastered. The gentleman next to me and myself have cleaned, and I do mean CLEANED, our side of the chilled seafood tower--shrimp, lobster, crab legs, etc--and he is nonchalantly rotating the dish in microscopic increments so that the people across from us don't notice that we're mining for any errant shrimp that they, technically, are entitled to. And they haven't even taken our order yet. Not to mention, he keeps reporting me to the waiter every time he's sees that my shot glass is empty.

And the next night, we did it all over again at Barcelona. How awesome is that? I almost feel guilty to charge them. After two days in Scottsdale, I was two pounds heavier than when I arrived. Not good.

Fire does NOT work

2008-07-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

Of late, the California landscape has been uncharacteristically grim. Sure, competing climates can produce a lingering but slightly romantic fog. But what is in the air is something slightly more toxic than water vapor. In fact, the normally outward-bound people of northern California have been driven indoors by the smoke. Yes, smoke. No not from cigarettes, you kidding? You can't even smoke in your own home in CA. As hundreds of wildfires burned across the state over the last few weeks, the skies have been a little more brown than blue.

Thank goodness things are getting under control and as we move into the Fourth of July holiday weekend, it looks like we're going to have almost perfectly clean air to breathe. However, I'm just glad I'm alive to experience the 4th of July this year since I almost ran into a light post after driving past a fireworks stand the other day. What? Yes, folks. They are selling FIREWORKS on just about every street corner around here. What knuckle-head authorized that? It's so dry out there I can't drink water fast enough and people still gotta have their fireworks.

C'mon people. Don't make me thump you.

Internal dialogue at 6 am

2008-07-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

Tell me if you do this too: it's been a while. So you promise yourself that tomorrow morning, you're going to do it. Six a.m. is upon you and once again, you're disgusted with yourself because your desire to stay in bed is ludicrously stronger than your desire to get out, in the cold, and go to the gym. You must be crazy.

I've been doing this for several weeks now. Tomorrow is always the day. See, I was doing so good. My eyelids were falling open every morning--even on weekends--and I was at that gym like a duck on a junebug. For a good three months this was my routine. Then, the inevitable happened. I took a trip. Two time zones away. Pretty much haven't been to the gym since.

Luckily, I have quasi-decent self control when it comes to food, so the consequences of my absence at the gym aren't too shocking--yet. But even though I know in my head that the satisfaction I have after a good workout is SO much better than that extra hour of sleep, the sleep still seizes me. The SHAME! What I am proud of, however, is the conversations I'm having with myself about this very topic at the wee hours of the morning. For some reason, I'm awake enough for a little debate, but not awake enough for a jog. Ridiculous.

My weekend soundtrack

2008-05-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

The term 'backyard' is used rather loosely in the great state of California. What is called a back yard isn't really a back yard. For example, my yard is not quite as large as the public bathroom at my favorite bistro. There literally isn't room to accelerate into a jog. No I'm not kidding.

I'm sure in fancier, more 'upscale' neighborhoods in California, the yards are large enough to do a cartwheel in, but not in my 'low income' neighborhood in the quaint little metropolis of RP, CA. I never thought I would have yard envy, but I do.

But skimpy yardage aside, there's lots to be said about sketchy California neighborhoods. One of them is free live music, 24/7. How many people can say that they can enjoy live entertainment in the comfort of their very own pint-sized patio? Not many.

Within walking distance of my home, I can enjoy the following amenities: two, count them, two gas stations, each with the cheapest gas in town (4.09 per gallon), one liquor store, one Pueblo Market, and one community center. Truly, I think this community center might also be a church. But just when I think I've figured out what kind of church it is, it throws me a curve ball. Yesterday, the Mister and I were enjoying our usual Sunday barbecue in our "outdoor space" to the tune of...was it Arab jive classics? Jewish folks tunes? Not sure, but the Jerusalem Food Festival happening next door at the community center/place of worship was drawing quite a crowd and those folks know how to party. We didn't want to be left out (not that we could even if the wanted to). Nothing says 'suburbia' like two all-American white kids belly dancing in the back 'yard'.

Let me tell you, when it comes time for resale, this little feature will definitely be an asset. It's sure to offset the fact that you can't leave your car unlocked for even a heart beat without your ashtray being robbed of change. Play-pin sized yards notwithstanding, who knew that the other side of the tracks was so rad? Hats off to you Cali, always breaking the mould.

Taking the first step

2008-05-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

I want to preface this 'spiel' by clarifying that I am not--repeat--NOT an addict. I don't' have a problem. I can quit when I want to. I do it because I enjoy it and for no other reason.

It's just the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. And I have to have it to feel normal both physically and emotionally. The smell, taste, and sheer possibility of it fill me with complete and utter contentment.

I'm talking about my first love in life, a hot little cup of bliss known as coffee. C-O-F-F-E-E. I know that I'm not the only one that feels this way. How do I know this? Oh, it might just be the adjacent Starbucks coffee houses that have infested every city in America. Nothing against Starbucks. I've been spotted there. And even though it's a little excessive, any coffee lover can appreciate two distinct Starbucks establishments in your immediate field of vision. Yes, without having to turn your head. If nothing else, it's a testiment to the true greatness of the drink. But even so, I know I'd be willing to cross a busy street for a cup of good coffee. Hell, I could make a shorter list of things that I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee.

Where does the fixation come from, you might ask? Well, coffee is a cultural phenomemon in the American South. Coffee is to Texas as tea is to China, whiskey is to Ireland. Texans bring a new meaning to the concept of 'drinking socially'.

Some of my favorite memories include sitting around my mom's kitchen table, everyone with a fresh, hot cup of coffee in hand, gabbing away about nonsense. Good times. True familial bonding. And all because of a relatively simple, inexpensive, hot beverage.

It's a morning, midmorning, afternoon and evening ritual.

Now that I live about 2500 miles away from my best pals--the fam--coffee has served as my very own security blanket. It's pretty pathetic actually. But a hot cup of coffee fresh out of the pot almost makes me feel like I'm home again. Except not. Only getting a caffeine fix. But soothing the separation anxiety nonetheless.

Yes, I know that coffee is innately toxic. That it takes your liver like a week to process one cup of coffee. That caffeine is more addictive than heroine. But it's not illegal so it must be okay, right? Hmm... Sometimes I have fits of moral dilemma as I ponder the possibility that coffee could one day be the demise of the American public. But it quickly passes. Probably because I drown it with another cup of...you guess it.

A new 'frontier'...

2008-05-16T15:08:00.000-07:00

Lately, it would seem that my life is made up of 'firsts'. First job. First house. First home away from home. First husbands...ha! Just kidding darling. You might even say that my recent experience would be one of embarking on a new 'frontier'...or...'frontier-s' to be more exact.

My frontier life excites me. Mostly because the word--frontier--is one of my favorite words in the English language. It just sounds pretty...the word, I mean. Plus, who wouldn't like a word that means "an undeveloped field for discovery." Yes, sign me up.

It all started when I met this guy by a pool in San Diego. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Scathingly handsome. And a trouble maker. So naturally, when he smoothly suggested that we tie the proverbial knot just three short weeks later, I enthusiastically agreed. However, it was a package deal. This charming young man came with a California zip code, which I inherited the day we got married. And so, I left my childhood home in Texas for what once was the Great Frontier...literally.

So just six months after my college commencement (a haunting word), I found myself 1) married and 2) living in Northern California. This is in no way a bad thing. However, in life, I have often professed that I would never, I mean never, do the following things:

1) get married (too compromising)
2) become a 'soccer mom' (too predictable)
3) move to California (too cliche)
4) get my belly button pierced (too skanky)
5) get fat (too much)

Considering that 'nevers' 1 and 3 have already been fulfilled, I'd say that this is not looking good.

One thing I knew I would do is to discover the world beyond my home state, to make a life somewhere else. Not to say there is anything wrong with good ole' Texas. It's quite fabulous, actually. It's not all about religious fanaticism and hate crimes. Parts of Texas have this funky coolness that is truly unforgetable. Mostly, Texas doesn't take itself too seriously. I kind of miss that, actually. Plus, I love being 'from' a place that is truly larger than life--both literally AND figuratively.

But since Texas will very likely never be my home again, I have come to enjoy the newness that has characterized my life. This 'frontier' business has been so fun that I've made it my little theme--every girl needs a theme. And so, I've decided to embark on another new frontier, for me anyway. Yes, I intend to get my blog-on.

I need to come clean and confess that I have never blogged before. I am a newbie, or to use a better term, virgin, blogger. Even in this overly-teched age, I have never ventured into the world of blog. And so, I take my first steps into this--for me--'undeveloped field for discovery' known as blogging. And with it, California, marriage, womanhood, and life, in general.