Observations

I know very few people who actually play the harmonica.

I would rather lose a leg than one finger. But I would really rather lose neither.

I cannot, under any circumstances, imagine having my own reality show. Not that I'm not fascinating; I just think it's a bad idea.

It dismays me that "commentate" is apparently an accepted word in American English.

I cannot imagine any job that I would love more than writing for a living.

Princess is reaching that stage of her life in which she realizes that Mommy and Daddy can't do everything, and screaming about it won't help. Unfortunately, she tests this hypothesis repeatedly, for upwards of 30 minutes at a time, in the middle of Lowe's, continuing out to the car.

When you need an anvil, you can't find one.

When you have a headache, you can't imagine anything worse. Then you get the stomach flu. And you're still glad you don't have a headache. Then you get a headache, and you stay home from work, wasting a perfectly good sick day being sick.

Tyra Banks is remarkably self-centered.

If I hear one more person misuse "literally," I'm going to literally choke him or her to death with a copy of the dictionary. Literally.

While I hate the word "chillax," it has offered the alternative to "take a chill pill." I shall now be telling people to "take a chillaxative." I shall be so popular at parties!

They say chicken noodle soup is "Jewish Penicillin." When I'm sick, Chicken McNuggets, fries, and a Coke always makes me feel better. What kind of penicillin is that?

If a man walks down 42 roads, he may call himself a man. Not before.

I have discovered that I can make up very convincing "facts" about almost anything, and people tend to believe me, because they think I'm "smart." So be on the lookout for my blog post about our forgotten president, Hezekiah Moline von Shtupp, the only U.S. president elected, impeached, and assassinated on the same day.

I should never blog when I'm sick.

Miscellanea

1. Book Review: Nice Girls Don't Have Fangs, by Molly Harper.

In my never-ending quest to read every vampire novel in the world (and compare it to my own), I recently found, via another blogger's recommendation, Molly Harper. This book is a fun little read. The basic premise: a small-town Southern librarian is turned into a vampire. Hijinks ensue. The writing is very quippy, with almost every piece of dialogue and description a one-liner. Some of the lines are very funny, but the relentless quality of the jokes wears thin after a while. There are quite a few resemblances to the Sookie Stackhouse novels, but no swearing and less graphic love scenes, so this one would be a good fit for readers who are bothered by those. I am currently on the second novel, Nice Girls Don't Date Dead Men. I'm sensing a theme.

2. Changing attitudes: Lady Gaga.

I now like Lady Gaga. Or rather, I now admit that I like Lady Gaga. I am no longer pretending to enjoy her ironically.

3. Confessions: New Movies

I am woefully behind on my movie viewing, but I can't tell if that's my fault. I remember the glory days, when I would rush to get all of the years' Oscar nominees on video so I could be an informed viewer...sigh. That tape of Boogie Nights went right into the "no" pile. But lately (by which I mean since around 2001) I watch the Oscars having not seen any new movies at all that year. Sven occasionally picks up some DVD's, but the last few I bought are sitting on my shelf, one year later, with the plastic wrapping still on them. Fact: Since Princess was born in 2005, I have seen one movie in the theater. I went by myself. Sigh.

4. Excitement: Ren Fest

Next weekend is the opening of the Texas Renaissance Festival. We will be there. It is one of the most anticipated weekends in our house. Pictures will follow. Princess and Dexy may be in costume. Deb will not.

Have a happy Monday.

A Wicked Backhand

It is considered bad manners to offer an uninvited observation on someone's appearance.

Even to give a compliment. If someone has not directly asked you, "How do I look?" it is rude to offer your opinion on their appearance.

Today, the wisdom of that was reaffirmed to me.

"Deb, what are you doing different?" my colleague asked me in the hall at lunch. "You look pretty."

Was there ever a compliment more badly phrased? I'm sure there was. But this one was a doozy. I have failed to capture the semi-awed tone implying that I was unfit for viewing in daylight before in print, but it was there.

Fortunately for us all, I know this lady is a sweet, kind, amazing individual who teaches kindergarten. A saint, in other words. I know she meant to pay me a sincere compliment, and her chagrin when she realized what she said was genuine and a little painful.

Also fortunately, I am a survivor of foot-in-mouth disease, which has plagued me for years. I'm constantly reviewing what I say or write in fear of saying the wrong thing. Every time I relax my vigilance, something slips through that causes me to spend the next six months writhing in mortification every time I remember it, which is every second of every day.

So, to my wonderful colleague, thank you for the lovely compliment. I accepted it, and continue to accept it, in the spirit in which I know you intended it.

And I'm pretty sure it was the haircut. I am pretty cute, if I do say so myself...

Happy Monday!!

An Inconvenient Food

I confess: I love tacos.

I mean, who doesn't, right? Who doesn't love the crispy shell, the warm, succulent meat, the crisp lettuce, tangy tomato, and melty cheese? What's not to love about that?

I'll tell you what's not to love about that: dignity. One cannot consume a hard-shell taco with dignity.

Today, our school cafeteria featured hard-shelled tacos for lunch. I recieved a glop of meat (two dollops = one glop), two shells, and a thimble of cheez. I have not misspelled "cheese." What I received was, in fact, cheez, a yellow, tasteless, soft substance that is impervious to the elements and chuckles audibly when sprinkled on food.

I carefully spooned a dollop of meat into the first shell, said a prayer, and took a bite.

KABOOM!

As I'm picking bits of taco shell out of my Andy Rooney-like eyebrows, the question occurs: who thought this was a good idea? Let's take greasy meat and assorted condiments, put them inside something so hard and brittle it barely holds together, and then make it large enough to require at least 8-11 bites to consume in its entirety. It sounds like a joke. A hidden camera prank, perhaps.

Wouldn't bite-size taco shells be neat? Just a mini shell, enough to hold about a teaspoon of meat, that you could load up and stuff in your mouth all at once? That would be great. And the time it would take you to build each taco would stop you from wolfing the whole thing down so quickly.

Of course, you can do soft tacos. Wimp. But here in Texas, we know the way tacos ought to be done. If you're in no danger from shrapnel when eating with a friend, it just ain't tacos.

I can't wait to see if my afternoon students are picking shells out of their eyebrows, too.

Inside My Head

The following takes place inside Deb's head between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m.:

8:00- Well, it's 8:00.  Time for me to get to bed.  You know, I should just take a quick shower, I haven't slept much lately, but I really want to take a bubble bath.  That sounds nice, a long, warm bubble bath, write a blog entry...I can still be in bed by 9:00.

8:07- Okay, waiting for Princess to get off the potty.  She's hollering in there, something about the toilet paper needing to go into time out.  How long can she take?  Sven, just tell me to go on up.

8:10- I hope Sven's not mad that I just came on up.  Okay, bubble bath time!  In this beautiful garden jetted tub that is...completely full of children's bath toys.

8:15- Okay, the tub is clean, the water is running, I'm brushing my teeth...what am I forgetting?

8:17- I'm pretty sure this bubble bath isn't supposed to be grey.  I guess it's been a while since I had a bubble bath.  This Huggies Lavender and Chamomile Baby Wash ought to do it.

8:18- It doesn't seem to be making a lot of bubbles...let's just squirt some more in there.

8:19- Okay, putting my book on the edge of the tub, turning on the jets, now I'll turn around and take the five steps to the tub...

8:19:30- WHAT HAPPENED???  WHERE IS THE TUB???  WHERE IS MY BOOK???  THOSE BUBBLES ATE MY BOOK???  HOW DID I GET TWO FEET OF BUBBLES IN AN EIGHTEEN-INCH TUB?

8:20- Okay, turning off the jets, everything's fine.  No need to panic.  Look, your book is right here, covered in devil bubbles.  It will be fine.  You do not need to buy another copy.

8:22- All right, new copy of the book is ordered from Amazon, time to get in the tub.

8:23- Draining all of the water from the tub, as my presence displaced enough water to fill the bathroom with bubbles.  Hopefully no one will notice the bubble marks near the ceiling.

8:25- Bubbles are uncomfortably warm.  Filling the tub with cool water.

8:27- I am now swathed in bubbles, like a woman in a movie.  You know, those scenes where the heroine is supposedly naked in a tub, but covered in bubbles so thick there's no way to be sure?  I always doubted that could happen in real life, but now look at me.  Should I go and get the camera?  It would be a good picture for the blog.

8:28- Okay, no picture.  My mom reads this blog, and I'd never hear the end of it if I posted a naked picture of myself, bubbles or no.  Not to mention Calliope, Happiness Incarnate, and all of my other church friends... clearly, my better nature has won for now.

8:29- Or has it?

Okay, it has, that's not me, but it's pretty close to how covered with bubbles I was.

8:35- Getting out of the tub and into the shower.  Wash the hair, rinse off the bubbles...

8:40- Out of the shower.  Ah, I know what I forgot... towels.  All of the clean towels are downstairs.

8:45- Okay, now I really need to get out of the shower.  Maybe there's a semi-clean towel out there somewhere.

8:47- Nope.

8:52- Okay, a quick check in the mirror, make sure my makeup is off, and then a blog entry.  I have eight whole minutes.

8:53- Why do I think of Andy Rooney whenever I see my eyebrows?

8:54- Okay, blog entry... how about Andy Rooney?  No, forget that.  Just free associate, the ideas will come.  Andy Rooney.  Mickey Rooney.  Mickey Mouse.  Mouseketeers.  The Three Musketeers.  Chocolate bars.  Junk food.  Heroin.  Twilight.  Rob Pattinson.  Andrew Lloyd Webber.  Andy Rooney.

8:59- Just give up.  You'll be able to think of something tomorrow.  After all, you wouldn't want a whole blog entry of just the junk floating around in your head, right?

9:18- Rob Pattinson... zzzzz....