I hate New Year’s Resolutions. Mostly I hate them because I have an inability to keep them past January 15. It seems as soon as I tack the word “resolution” onto a phrase, I am dooming it.
So this year, I am not making any resolutions, New Year’s or otherwise. Instead, I just have some ‘ideas’ of things I’d like to accomplish and/or ‘try’ in 2009.
In no particular order…
Eyebrows – I’d like to have my eyebrows professionally shaped. I’ve been having the uni-brow waxed for years…but I think I’d like to see what I might look like with less eye brow bushiness. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s hair…it will always grow back…right?
And speaking of eyes…I’d really like to develop a great wink. I have wink envy – whenever I try to wink at someone it either looks like I’m having some kind of eye spasm or just comes across as some kind of weird eye twitch. I wink beautifully on instant messenger…just can’t seem to do it in person.
I am going to try really hard to stop lying to my dental hygienist in 2009. I tell precisely two lies per year – every year. Twice a year, whilst having my teeth professionally cleaned, the hygienist asks the magic question: “are you flossing every day?” And every time I look that poor woman right in the eye and say “yes.” And she’s scraping my teeth! She knows I’m lying – and I know she knows I’m lying. This is going to be the year I break the cycle of dental deception!
Doo Rags – I’m going to give wearing a doo-rag a try this year. I see folks – well, mainly urban men – wearing them in Philadelphia and can’t help but wonder if it is a look I could pull off?
Find a Church – I am going to begin test-driving churches in the area – it is well past time that I make a congregational commitment. Let the auditions begin!
No Drive-By Texting – I am going to really try to limit texting whilst driving to true emergencies. As I have been reminded, emergencies rarely involve the need for new shoes or a new handbag!
and finally...in 2009 I am going to try very diligently to talk less and listen more.
Here's to the new year!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
...and a partridge in a pear tree!
My folks used to host a big holiday shindig every year when my Pop was alive. I believe it started out, in the beginning, as a "thank you" for his clients (of which I was one) and evolved over the years into the annual Baker Bash. Manada Hill Inn always hosted and provided incredible eats (ah...memories of brisket and almond chicken...) and the event was considered a 'hot ticket' in our town.
But that wasn't my Dad's reason for hosting the party...I am convinced that he hosted it for one reason and one reason only...and it had little to do with brisket...
My father had an unnatural love of "The Twelve Days of Christmas."
Not the actual days -- the Christmas Carol.
His very favorite part of the annual get-together occurred about half-way through the evening, when he would select folks from the crowd to get up and sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" with him.
He'd start early by surveying the room -- trying to determine who his best singers were, along with those that might not be great singers, but would be entertaining nonetheless. Next he'd start approaching folks to participate.
Everyone always knew it was coming -- and you knew they secretly wanted to be asked -- but there would always be that element of surprise: "Are you sure you want ME to be nine ladies dancing?"
And my beloved Uncle Wes -- not a blood uncle at all, but my Pop's best friend -- would inevitably end up with "Five Golden Rings."
Pop would then line the motley crew up on the small stage and off they'd go...with Pop 'eggnogging' them on. God bless the person who got the twelfth day and only had to sing it once.
The whole musical presentation would take about ten minutes with all the stops and starts...and laughter.
He loved it.
And everyone loved him.
And it was Christmas.
Now, both Dad and Uncle Wes are gone from this earth...but I can't help but wonder on this Christmas Eve's Eve if they are up there in heaven convincing Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr.to sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" with them...
I'll bet Uncle Wes has to arm wrestle Sinatra for those Five Golden Rings...
But that wasn't my Dad's reason for hosting the party...I am convinced that he hosted it for one reason and one reason only...and it had little to do with brisket...
My father had an unnatural love of "The Twelve Days of Christmas."
Not the actual days -- the Christmas Carol.
His very favorite part of the annual get-together occurred about half-way through the evening, when he would select folks from the crowd to get up and sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" with him.
He'd start early by surveying the room -- trying to determine who his best singers were, along with those that might not be great singers, but would be entertaining nonetheless. Next he'd start approaching folks to participate.
Everyone always knew it was coming -- and you knew they secretly wanted to be asked -- but there would always be that element of surprise: "Are you sure you want ME to be nine ladies dancing?"
And my beloved Uncle Wes -- not a blood uncle at all, but my Pop's best friend -- would inevitably end up with "Five Golden Rings."
Pop would then line the motley crew up on the small stage and off they'd go...with Pop 'eggnogging' them on. God bless the person who got the twelfth day and only had to sing it once.
The whole musical presentation would take about ten minutes with all the stops and starts...and laughter.
He loved it.
And everyone loved him.
And it was Christmas.
Now, both Dad and Uncle Wes are gone from this earth...but I can't help but wonder on this Christmas Eve's Eve if they are up there in heaven convincing Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr.to sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" with them...
I'll bet Uncle Wes has to arm wrestle Sinatra for those Five Golden Rings...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
They tried to sell us egg foo yong...
I come from a family of talented folks -- the Baker's can all sing (well, except for Kathy!), dance, act, play instruments -- even twirl flaming batons (only Kathy!)...we are a fairly musical lot. And with four kids, we were always putting on some kind of show or another...even if just for my parents.
Growing up there were plenty of music lessons, band competitions, trips to county chorus and plays -- shoot, two of us have even appeared in made-for-TV movies.
But we share one common musical fault -- not a one of us can ever remember all the words, or at least the correct words to a song.
It's sad really.
And I am at the top of this list. In fact, on any given day you can hear my husband "gently suggesting" that I "learn the words" to the song I'm desperately trying to sing!
This malady can be traced back to my Pop -- who also loved to sing, and just randomly substituted words that "sounded right" into whatever song he was singing. Thus - as the title of this missive suggests, I was in my twenties before I realized that the classic Nat King Cole song was NOT "They Tried To Sell Us Egg Foo Yong" but "They Tried to Tell Us We're Too Young!"
But Pop wasn't alone... My baby sister (possibly the best true singer of all of us) routinely butchered popular lyrics. To this day I can't hear Kenny Rogers "Lucille" without hear her little voice singing "Four hundred children in a washing machine" instead of "four hungry children and a crop in the field." Another classic -- baby sister in Sunday school at roughly 5 or 6 singing "He's got the whole world in his pants!"
Just picture the nuns trying to correct her.
And the seasonal "Hark it's Harold - Angels Sing!" I'll never forget the day she asked me who "Harold" was? I think I told her that he was the fourth, rarely mentioned Wise Man. (Yes, I was a smart alecky kid.)
Another classic -- "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" -- for years I sang "A girl with colitis goes by"...in my defense, this was during the time when my Mom was first diagnosed with Crones Disease. Of course, as a small child I thought the song title was "Lucy's in a Fight with Linus."
And my obsession with food clearly had a role in my singing the famous Rolling Stones song -- "I'll Never Leave Your Pizza Burning..." instead of "I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden" (thanks to my first college boyfriend for pointing that one out!).
And I still do it...most recent mistake that entertained the masses? The Carrie Underwood song "Jesus Take The Wheel." I now know that the lyric is "...she was running low on faith and gasoline..." but for weeks I unknowingly sang "she was running low on faith and vaseline..." Who knows? Maybe Carrie had chapped lips?
To this day, to learn a song for any kind of performance requires repeated rote memorization.
And even then, I'll probably mess it up.
Oh, I'll hit all the right notes...but will inevitably repeat the first verse twice. Or change the words without realizing it. Or substitute something that "sounds right."
And hubby? The guy always trying to correct my mis-heard ways?
I figure he'll keep me around -- just last week I heard him singing "walking 'round in women's underwear..."
Growing up there were plenty of music lessons, band competitions, trips to county chorus and plays -- shoot, two of us have even appeared in made-for-TV movies.
But we share one common musical fault -- not a one of us can ever remember all the words, or at least the correct words to a song.
It's sad really.
And I am at the top of this list. In fact, on any given day you can hear my husband "gently suggesting" that I "learn the words" to the song I'm desperately trying to sing!
This malady can be traced back to my Pop -- who also loved to sing, and just randomly substituted words that "sounded right" into whatever song he was singing. Thus - as the title of this missive suggests, I was in my twenties before I realized that the classic Nat King Cole song was NOT "They Tried To Sell Us Egg Foo Yong" but "They Tried to Tell Us We're Too Young!"
But Pop wasn't alone... My baby sister (possibly the best true singer of all of us) routinely butchered popular lyrics. To this day I can't hear Kenny Rogers "Lucille" without hear her little voice singing "Four hundred children in a washing machine" instead of "four hungry children and a crop in the field." Another classic -- baby sister in Sunday school at roughly 5 or 6 singing "He's got the whole world in his pants!"
Just picture the nuns trying to correct her.
And the seasonal "Hark it's Harold - Angels Sing!" I'll never forget the day she asked me who "Harold" was? I think I told her that he was the fourth, rarely mentioned Wise Man. (Yes, I was a smart alecky kid.)
Another classic -- "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" -- for years I sang "A girl with colitis goes by"...in my defense, this was during the time when my Mom was first diagnosed with Crones Disease. Of course, as a small child I thought the song title was "Lucy's in a Fight with Linus."
And my obsession with food clearly had a role in my singing the famous Rolling Stones song -- "I'll Never Leave Your Pizza Burning..." instead of "I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden" (thanks to my first college boyfriend for pointing that one out!).
And I still do it...most recent mistake that entertained the masses? The Carrie Underwood song "Jesus Take The Wheel." I now know that the lyric is "...she was running low on faith and gasoline..." but for weeks I unknowingly sang "she was running low on faith and vaseline..." Who knows? Maybe Carrie had chapped lips?
To this day, to learn a song for any kind of performance requires repeated rote memorization.
And even then, I'll probably mess it up.
Oh, I'll hit all the right notes...but will inevitably repeat the first verse twice. Or change the words without realizing it. Or substitute something that "sounds right."
And hubby? The guy always trying to correct my mis-heard ways?
I figure he'll keep me around -- just last week I heard him singing "walking 'round in women's underwear..."
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...
A number of years ago, Oprah starting doing one show each year based on her “Favorite Things” of the previous year. I’m not a huge Oprah fan, but always enjoyed watching the yearly episode – mostly because it always seemed like really cool stuff. Even cooler – she usually gave one of each item to every person in the audience of this special show. This year, in light of the economy, I read that Oprah has decided NOT to do the show – so I’ve decided to pick up the reins and do my own list of “Laura’s Favorite Things 2008.”
And if I could – I’d give one of each to each of you!
My Super Stapler – for years I’ve struggled to keep a decent, working stapler more than a month or so. I’m not sure if it was my tremendous upper body strength or the fact that I try repeatedly to staple too many pages. After breaking my FOURTH stapler in a year in September, I went on a mission to find the perfect stapler – and I did! Enter the Swingline Heavy Duty Stapler! This baby ROCKS – and can staple up to 64 pages with one staple. It’s also indestructible – I’ve dropped it, knocked it off my desk and accidently poured Diet Coke on it! You’ve got to love a stapler that comes with its own toll-free technical support number. I’ve covered mine in Superman stickers. And the entire office knows the penalty for removing it from my desk.
Facebook/Blogging – After years of selling the importance of social networking and blogging, I finally broke down and set myself up with both a Facebook page and a blog in 2008. And compared to my friend Kevin’s 500+ friends…I have eight. My small but mighty posse. What started out as a lark – and a much needed live demo for a presentation -- has reconnected me with one of my favorite people in the world. And the blogging is FUN – I enjoy the email missives I receive from every one of you after each posting – and it keeps me writing for pleasure on a regular basis.
Mika – “Everybody needs love today” – and Mika has it to offer in droves. Never was a fan of techno-pop until I saw Mika briefly on Good Morning America. A British singer with energy to burn – it is impossible to be in a bad mood whilst listening to Mika’s “Love Today” and “Big Girl You Are Beautiful.” I positively bounce every time I play his music.
Sweet Tea – If 2007 was the year I discovered Starbucks and the Chai Tea Frappacino – 2008 is the year for McDonald’s Sweet Tea. I listened to my husband talk about how good it was for almost a year before I tried it – and am now addicted. Fresh brewed each morning with just the right blending of real sugar – and it comes in one size only – large. Perfect drive-thru stop on the way to Philadelphia.
The Kindle – Talk about a life-change device! The Kindle is Amazon’s eBook reader and it is dynamite! I have not purchased an old-fashioned book since June. Plus – have all my favorite books with me at all times. Whatever I’m in the mood for – it’s there. Love, love, LOVE the Kindle.
GPS – First experienced the Garmin NUVI on a road trip to Charlottesville early in the year – and knew I had to have one. With voice activated turn by turn driving directions – I haven’t been lost, or unable to find Thai food since. And my husband will tell you – I could get lost trying to find our bathroom in the middle of the night. You guessed it – a Phi Beta Kappa with zero sense of direction.
Twilight Books – Again, came to this party late in the game, but quickly got absorbed in the Twilight books. Vampirism has always been a favorite genre of mine, and this gentle story of both teen angst and unrequited love is beautifully told. If you think it’s just a book for tween girls, you would be wrong. The recent movie didn't do much for me -- read the books!
"Jubilee" – this plaintive tune, as performed by Allison Krause is my favorite song of the year. “Spin and turn…live and learn…” Close seconds would be “East to West” and “Does Anybody See Her” from contemporary Christian group Casting Crowns.
The Purpose Driven Life – This book, by Rick Warren, has focused me possibly more than any other book has in years. In relatively simple, bite sized chunks, Warren guides the reader toward discovering true purpose and meaning in life. Do not pass ‘go’ – do not collect $100 – just buy and read this book. I'm currently reading his new book: The Purpose of Christmas...
Superhero flicks – Although I loved The Dark Knight – my favorite films of the year would have to be Ironman (which I’ve now seen a half dozen times) and Hancock.
Wells Fargo REIT II – Ever wanted to own incredible commercial real estate? The Wells Fargo REIT II allows the smaller investor to do so – by far my favorite investment of the year. And I’ve already told Brad that I will need to visit each and every one of the buildings we now “own” a piece of. Road trip!
Coventry Deli “Amy” Sandwich – The Coventry Deli is on the first floor of my biggest client’s building and I often find myself running down from the 24th floor on an especially busy Tuesday to grab a sandwich – the “Amy” is wonderful – fresh carved turkey, thinly sliced apples and creamy brie on fococcia bread. Yum yum got to get you some! Or better yet – meet me at 2000 Market Street on any given Tuesday, and I’ll treat you to one. Really – it’s that tasty.
…and of course, my favorite things of all – which are not ‘things’ – but loved ones, special friends and family!
Merry merry!
And if I could – I’d give one of each to each of you!
My Super Stapler – for years I’ve struggled to keep a decent, working stapler more than a month or so. I’m not sure if it was my tremendous upper body strength or the fact that I try repeatedly to staple too many pages. After breaking my FOURTH stapler in a year in September, I went on a mission to find the perfect stapler – and I did! Enter the Swingline Heavy Duty Stapler! This baby ROCKS – and can staple up to 64 pages with one staple. It’s also indestructible – I’ve dropped it, knocked it off my desk and accidently poured Diet Coke on it! You’ve got to love a stapler that comes with its own toll-free technical support number. I’ve covered mine in Superman stickers. And the entire office knows the penalty for removing it from my desk.
Facebook/Blogging – After years of selling the importance of social networking and blogging, I finally broke down and set myself up with both a Facebook page and a blog in 2008. And compared to my friend Kevin’s 500+ friends…I have eight. My small but mighty posse. What started out as a lark – and a much needed live demo for a presentation -- has reconnected me with one of my favorite people in the world. And the blogging is FUN – I enjoy the email missives I receive from every one of you after each posting – and it keeps me writing for pleasure on a regular basis.
Mika – “Everybody needs love today” – and Mika has it to offer in droves. Never was a fan of techno-pop until I saw Mika briefly on Good Morning America. A British singer with energy to burn – it is impossible to be in a bad mood whilst listening to Mika’s “Love Today” and “Big Girl You Are Beautiful.” I positively bounce every time I play his music.
Sweet Tea – If 2007 was the year I discovered Starbucks and the Chai Tea Frappacino – 2008 is the year for McDonald’s Sweet Tea. I listened to my husband talk about how good it was for almost a year before I tried it – and am now addicted. Fresh brewed each morning with just the right blending of real sugar – and it comes in one size only – large. Perfect drive-thru stop on the way to Philadelphia.
The Kindle – Talk about a life-change device! The Kindle is Amazon’s eBook reader and it is dynamite! I have not purchased an old-fashioned book since June. Plus – have all my favorite books with me at all times. Whatever I’m in the mood for – it’s there. Love, love, LOVE the Kindle.
GPS – First experienced the Garmin NUVI on a road trip to Charlottesville early in the year – and knew I had to have one. With voice activated turn by turn driving directions – I haven’t been lost, or unable to find Thai food since. And my husband will tell you – I could get lost trying to find our bathroom in the middle of the night. You guessed it – a Phi Beta Kappa with zero sense of direction.
Twilight Books – Again, came to this party late in the game, but quickly got absorbed in the Twilight books. Vampirism has always been a favorite genre of mine, and this gentle story of both teen angst and unrequited love is beautifully told. If you think it’s just a book for tween girls, you would be wrong. The recent movie didn't do much for me -- read the books!
"Jubilee" – this plaintive tune, as performed by Allison Krause is my favorite song of the year. “Spin and turn…live and learn…” Close seconds would be “East to West” and “Does Anybody See Her” from contemporary Christian group Casting Crowns.
The Purpose Driven Life – This book, by Rick Warren, has focused me possibly more than any other book has in years. In relatively simple, bite sized chunks, Warren guides the reader toward discovering true purpose and meaning in life. Do not pass ‘go’ – do not collect $100 – just buy and read this book. I'm currently reading his new book: The Purpose of Christmas...
Superhero flicks – Although I loved The Dark Knight – my favorite films of the year would have to be Ironman (which I’ve now seen a half dozen times) and Hancock.
Wells Fargo REIT II – Ever wanted to own incredible commercial real estate? The Wells Fargo REIT II allows the smaller investor to do so – by far my favorite investment of the year. And I’ve already told Brad that I will need to visit each and every one of the buildings we now “own” a piece of. Road trip!
Coventry Deli “Amy” Sandwich – The Coventry Deli is on the first floor of my biggest client’s building and I often find myself running down from the 24th floor on an especially busy Tuesday to grab a sandwich – the “Amy” is wonderful – fresh carved turkey, thinly sliced apples and creamy brie on fococcia bread. Yum yum got to get you some! Or better yet – meet me at 2000 Market Street on any given Tuesday, and I’ll treat you to one. Really – it’s that tasty.
…and of course, my favorite things of all – which are not ‘things’ – but loved ones, special friends and family!
Merry merry!
Monday, December 8, 2008
I'm Mister Green Christmas...I'm Mister Sun...
For most kids, growing up in my neck of the woods -- Christmas meant one thing and one thing only -- time for presents! Long wish lists, letters to Santa Claus and church pageantry.
At my house, however, birth of Jesus aside, Christmas was all about television. Holiday TV specials, holiday episodes of our favorite shows, and we could even get excited about the little Santa riding down the snow covered mountain in a Norelco electric shaver.
And now, technically all grown up, I still look foward to this batch of broadcast nostalgia every year:
A Christmas Story -- a classic. From the "old man" who never had a first name, to Ralphie's longing for an "Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!" This slice of life had it all. In fact, part of the reason I knew my husband was "the one" was when I first threw out the phrase "fra-ge-lee" in conversation (we started dating around Christmas 1992) and he knew EXACTLY what I was talking about.
A Charlie Brown Christmas -- I started taking piano lessons as a child because I wanted to be able to play the Vince Guaraldi score. And Linus reciting from the Gospel According to Luke at the conclusion gets me everytime.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer -- the first Rankin-Bass animation I ever saw. For years I've loved Herbie the elf who wants to be a dentist -- and everyone from the Island of Misfit Toys. And can't forget the wondrous Burl Ives scooting through the snow with his banjo singing "Silver and Gold."
The Grinch That Stole Christmas -- no holiday list would be complete without "the mean one" himself. CindyLou Who never did much for me -- for me, it was all about the Max the Dog -- with that sad tree branch tied to his head.
The House Without a Christmas Tree -- haven't seen this one in years, but remember it well -- the little girl who's father (played by Jason Robards) was so wracked with grief at the passing of his wife, that he couldn't bear to have a Christmas tree in the house.
The Brady Bunch -- although the Brady's did a Christmas eposide every year, none could beat the very first one when Mrs. Brady lost her voice and little Cindy asked Santa to 'give her Mommy's voice back' in time for her to sing O Come All Ye Faithful in church on Christmas!
Holiday Inn -- My Dad and I used to watch this together every year. This film was the first to have Bing Crosby sing the timeless classic White Christmas. And the idea of having an Inn that was only open on holidays was terrific. Love the scenes when Fred Astaire is dancing and throwing firecrackers at his feet!
It's A Wonderful Life -- For years I said I would name my daughter Zuzu! How can you not love a film that reminds us that "everytime a bell rings, an angel gets its wings!" Or the tender moment when a young Mary whispers in George Bailey's (deaf) ear -- "I'll love you George Bailey until the day I die." I'm singing a chorus of "Buffalo Girls Won't You Come Out Tonight" just thinking of it. Quick trivia question -- what does Clarence write in the copy of Tom Sawyer he leaves for George at the end of the film? (Answer below)
And my all time favorite -- A Year Without A Santa Claus!
Santa decides to take a holiday...but the show-stoppers in this one are surely Heat Miser and Snow Miser -- sons of Mother Nature.
All together now:
I'm Mister White Christmas
I'm Mister Snow
I'm Mister Icicle
I'm Mister 40 Below...
And finally, I loved the old Coca Cola "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing" commercial.
Honorable mentions would have to go to:
Santa Claus is Coming to Town
The Little Drummer Boy
A Christmas Carol (the Alistar Sim version)
and, of course, a shout out to my husband's all time favorite: Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol!
Happy Viewing!
** Answer to trivia question: "No man is a failure who has friends."
At my house, however, birth of Jesus aside, Christmas was all about television. Holiday TV specials, holiday episodes of our favorite shows, and we could even get excited about the little Santa riding down the snow covered mountain in a Norelco electric shaver.
And now, technically all grown up, I still look foward to this batch of broadcast nostalgia every year:
A Christmas Story -- a classic. From the "old man" who never had a first name, to Ralphie's longing for an "Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!" This slice of life had it all. In fact, part of the reason I knew my husband was "the one" was when I first threw out the phrase "fra-ge-lee" in conversation (we started dating around Christmas 1992) and he knew EXACTLY what I was talking about.
A Charlie Brown Christmas -- I started taking piano lessons as a child because I wanted to be able to play the Vince Guaraldi score. And Linus reciting from the Gospel According to Luke at the conclusion gets me everytime.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer -- the first Rankin-Bass animation I ever saw. For years I've loved Herbie the elf who wants to be a dentist -- and everyone from the Island of Misfit Toys. And can't forget the wondrous Burl Ives scooting through the snow with his banjo singing "Silver and Gold."
The Grinch That Stole Christmas -- no holiday list would be complete without "the mean one" himself. CindyLou Who never did much for me -- for me, it was all about the Max the Dog -- with that sad tree branch tied to his head.
The House Without a Christmas Tree -- haven't seen this one in years, but remember it well -- the little girl who's father (played by Jason Robards) was so wracked with grief at the passing of his wife, that he couldn't bear to have a Christmas tree in the house.
The Brady Bunch -- although the Brady's did a Christmas eposide every year, none could beat the very first one when Mrs. Brady lost her voice and little Cindy asked Santa to 'give her Mommy's voice back' in time for her to sing O Come All Ye Faithful in church on Christmas!
Holiday Inn -- My Dad and I used to watch this together every year. This film was the first to have Bing Crosby sing the timeless classic White Christmas. And the idea of having an Inn that was only open on holidays was terrific. Love the scenes when Fred Astaire is dancing and throwing firecrackers at his feet!
It's A Wonderful Life -- For years I said I would name my daughter Zuzu! How can you not love a film that reminds us that "everytime a bell rings, an angel gets its wings!" Or the tender moment when a young Mary whispers in George Bailey's (deaf) ear -- "I'll love you George Bailey until the day I die." I'm singing a chorus of "Buffalo Girls Won't You Come Out Tonight" just thinking of it. Quick trivia question -- what does Clarence write in the copy of Tom Sawyer he leaves for George at the end of the film? (Answer below)
And my all time favorite -- A Year Without A Santa Claus!
Santa decides to take a holiday...but the show-stoppers in this one are surely Heat Miser and Snow Miser -- sons of Mother Nature.
All together now:
I'm Mister White Christmas
I'm Mister Snow
I'm Mister Icicle
I'm Mister 40 Below...
And finally, I loved the old Coca Cola "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing" commercial.
Honorable mentions would have to go to:
Santa Claus is Coming to Town
The Little Drummer Boy
A Christmas Carol (the Alistar Sim version)
and, of course, a shout out to my husband's all time favorite: Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol!
Happy Viewing!
** Answer to trivia question: "No man is a failure who has friends."
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I'd like to thank the Academy...
Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite days of the year – a time to reflect on the previous twelve months and remember all for which I am grateful. And the list, as always, is lengthy.
This year was wonderful in many ways – one of which was the fact that after 41 years, I am FINALLY working on Broadway! Well, in actuality, it’s FOR Broadway, but the offices are, in fact, overlooking Broadway, so I’m sticking with my original thought.
In honor of that distinction, I thought, in lieu of a traditional list of all those people and things for which I am thankful, I’d work it into my long-awaited Tony Awards Acceptance Speech! (Come on…you know we’ve all stood in front of a mirror at some point and practiced ‘the speech…’)
Picture it: New York City – June 7, 2009…Radio City Music Hall...
…and the winner is LAURA STOCKER (thunderous applause as I make my way to the Radio City stage, where upon I gently accept the award from presenter Terrence Mann…I allow Terry to kiss my cheek and then turn to the microphone…)
“Thank you! Thank you! This means so much to me – I can’t even find the words – but will give it my best shot!
First of all, I must offer my congratulations to other fine actors in this category – Kristin, Linda, Karen and Audra – just being nominated in your company was enough for me – I am honored to share this evening with you talented ladies!
Where to start? At the very top of course – I’d like to thank God – without whom I would not be standing here today. I am so incredibly blessed and grateful to the Lord for his never-ending forgiveness and for putting me on this path.
My parents – my Dad was my biggest fan – whether I was on stage or off. The first to ever shout “Sing OUT Louise!” to me, and in our final moments together I was singing show tunes to him. Pop – it may be my name on this award – but it is YOURS in every way that matters!
My wonderful husband – thank you for saying I look pretty even when I do not –for making sure that my clothes match before I leave the house in the morning, and for all those accessory suggestions! Look honey – I learned all the words! The best director I ever had --I wouldn’t be here without you!
My friends…my small but mighty posse – you know who you are and each and every one of you knows what you mean to me. Special shout-outs to Kevin, Marky Mark and Peyton – look Emma – I said your Daddy’s name on national TV! And Kevin – I’m doing my best to not ‘mug’ at the camera!
For my sisters Kathy and Paula – Kathy punched out the neighbor kid when we were little after he made fun of my singing: ‘my sister has a beautiful voice you lunkhead!’ And Paula, who never got to play Mary in the Christmas pageant and always had to sing harmony so I could shine!
For my brother who disappeared for years, but returned when it was important and showed us all what being a family meant!
Two teachers who made an impact – my beloved Miss Willis who taught me to ‘seize the day’ and Mrs. Witmer – who refused to give me a decent part in one of her musicals. One of you believed in me, and one of you made me want to prove you wrong. How do you like me NOW Mrs. Witmer?
And for the Pipeline Gang – thanks for letting me sing in the office almost constantly – and apologies for the tap dancing induced scuff marks on the hard wood floors – gotta dance!
And finally, to the cast and crew of Superman the Musical – you lift me up, both literally and figuratively with each new performance.
Thank you again – I will treasure this award almost as much as I treasure the village behind me that made it happen. Good night!”
This year was wonderful in many ways – one of which was the fact that after 41 years, I am FINALLY working on Broadway! Well, in actuality, it’s FOR Broadway, but the offices are, in fact, overlooking Broadway, so I’m sticking with my original thought.
In honor of that distinction, I thought, in lieu of a traditional list of all those people and things for which I am thankful, I’d work it into my long-awaited Tony Awards Acceptance Speech! (Come on…you know we’ve all stood in front of a mirror at some point and practiced ‘the speech…’)
Picture it: New York City – June 7, 2009…Radio City Music Hall...
…and the winner is LAURA STOCKER (thunderous applause as I make my way to the Radio City stage, where upon I gently accept the award from presenter Terrence Mann…I allow Terry to kiss my cheek and then turn to the microphone…)
“Thank you! Thank you! This means so much to me – I can’t even find the words – but will give it my best shot!
First of all, I must offer my congratulations to other fine actors in this category – Kristin, Linda, Karen and Audra – just being nominated in your company was enough for me – I am honored to share this evening with you talented ladies!
Where to start? At the very top of course – I’d like to thank God – without whom I would not be standing here today. I am so incredibly blessed and grateful to the Lord for his never-ending forgiveness and for putting me on this path.
My parents – my Dad was my biggest fan – whether I was on stage or off. The first to ever shout “Sing OUT Louise!” to me, and in our final moments together I was singing show tunes to him. Pop – it may be my name on this award – but it is YOURS in every way that matters!
My wonderful husband – thank you for saying I look pretty even when I do not –for making sure that my clothes match before I leave the house in the morning, and for all those accessory suggestions! Look honey – I learned all the words! The best director I ever had --I wouldn’t be here without you!
My friends…my small but mighty posse – you know who you are and each and every one of you knows what you mean to me. Special shout-outs to Kevin, Marky Mark and Peyton – look Emma – I said your Daddy’s name on national TV! And Kevin – I’m doing my best to not ‘mug’ at the camera!
For my sisters Kathy and Paula – Kathy punched out the neighbor kid when we were little after he made fun of my singing: ‘my sister has a beautiful voice you lunkhead!’ And Paula, who never got to play Mary in the Christmas pageant and always had to sing harmony so I could shine!
For my brother who disappeared for years, but returned when it was important and showed us all what being a family meant!
Two teachers who made an impact – my beloved Miss Willis who taught me to ‘seize the day’ and Mrs. Witmer – who refused to give me a decent part in one of her musicals. One of you believed in me, and one of you made me want to prove you wrong. How do you like me NOW Mrs. Witmer?
And for the Pipeline Gang – thanks for letting me sing in the office almost constantly – and apologies for the tap dancing induced scuff marks on the hard wood floors – gotta dance!
And finally, to the cast and crew of Superman the Musical – you lift me up, both literally and figuratively with each new performance.
Thank you again – I will treasure this award almost as much as I treasure the village behind me that made it happen. Good night!”
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Same old, brand new me
I had heard the expression many, many times -- "I was walking down the street and Jesus tapped me on the shoulder."
Or heard from a colleague or acquaintance that "so and so had found Jesus."
Most times, one or both of these statements was accompanied by a snicker. Or a giggle. Or a less than flattering follow up comment.
But not from me -- I was usually intellectually intrigued, and even a bit envious -- "What would that be like?"
Now I know.
Jesus did not "tap me on the shoulder." Metaphorically speaking, he came at me with a two by four to the gut.
A bit of background: I was raised a Roman Catholic -- Catholic School, scary nuns, CCD, confirmation, the whole deal. And I was what you would call (at the time) a 'good' Catholic -- could recite mass - in Latin - along with the priest. Could whip through a ten decade rosary in nothing flat. Shuffled All Saints prayer cards with the best of them (most notably my grandmother). Donated money when I could. Could even call Bingo!
But I struggled with the church. I had questions. And I learned, fairly early on, that the church did NOT like my questions. Many of my conversations with Father LaCross or Monsignor Bierschmidt, or, heaven help us - Sister Maria Goretti - somehow ended in my having 'sinned' for asking the question and being handed some penance or another.
I once even questioned why I had to "go to confession?" Couldn't I just go right to the source? And don't even get me started on the classes I had to take before I was "allowed" to be my nephew's godmother -- I had no problem with the classes...but thought the hefty donation they 'strongly suggested' (as in you don't get your coat or your nephew baptized until you pay) was just, well, wrong.
After these, and other incidents too numerous to mention, I drifted away from the Roman Catholic Church. If pressed to self-identify, I'd say I was a lapsed Catholic. I still considered myself a believer and lived what I thought was a Christian life -- devoting countless hours to non-profit organizations and trying to be the most 'giving' person I could be.
Much had always been given to me -- and I always had a strong sense of returning the favor, paying it foward - whichever phraseology works for you. There was (and is) very little I would not do to help a friend or a person in need.
If you would have asked me a week ago, I would have told you in no uncertain terms how "blessed" I was. And I believed it. But I did not really "get" it.
Religion had been in the back of my mind, kind of lurking there, for the past year or so. When I received an Amazon Kindle for my birthday in June, it amused me that because of its black leather cover, complete strangers starting asking me if I was "reading the Bible." After the fifth or sixth time this occurred, I actually thought to myself, "maybe I should be reading the Bible."
During this same time period, I reconnected with close friend from high school. A great friend - the kind of friend any father would want for his sixteen-year-old daughter. Amazingly, a 20-year timeout had done nothing to break that again almost immediate bond. Even more amazing was the broad similarities our lives had taken - down to both of us eloping, to walking away from bad situations, to even working in the same cities during the same months/years.
And whilst catching up, my friend would occasionally slip in a Biblical reference, or a Faith-based anecdote. Not in an overt way, not in any kind of Bible-waving stereotype that you might imagine -- but in a kind, almost gentle "this is who I am now" turn of phrase. And I was further intrigued -- enough so that when he suggested a book he thought I might get something out of -- I started reading.
Most importantly, he was patient. He'd lob a couple of balls in my court (apologies for the tennis references) and then step back and see what I did with them. No outright evangelism. He let me take the lead in asking questions and expressing frustrations, and then would gently suggest a path, a verse, a column (he's a writer), a song. And his enthusiasm was infectious.
And after several weeks, it all began to come together for me.
The specifics - the exact moment, the precise phrase of verse that got me, those details are not for public consumption -- still too new, and very, very personal. As I think it should be -- at least for me, at least right now. Suffice to say it was among the most profound moments of my life.
I have accepted Jesus Christ into my heart and as my savior. That's the important part.
I didn't "find" Jesus - He found me. Exactly as it was meant to happen, at exactly the moment in time that He thought best.
The few folks I mentioned this to have seemed startled by my revelation. Or amused by it. Or threatened by it. Feel what you must, but be happy for me. For a long I felt as if something important was missing - and I don't feel that anymore. I ask nothing from friends and/or family - I'm sure I won't suddenly start evangelizing. You may notice a new lightness in my step - you may not notice anything.
To many of you, I will simply remain the goofiest person you know.
I am looking at this right now as a journey -- everything about me is the same, and yet nothing is the same.
Or heard from a colleague or acquaintance that "so and so had found Jesus."
Most times, one or both of these statements was accompanied by a snicker. Or a giggle. Or a less than flattering follow up comment.
But not from me -- I was usually intellectually intrigued, and even a bit envious -- "What would that be like?"
Now I know.
Jesus did not "tap me on the shoulder." Metaphorically speaking, he came at me with a two by four to the gut.
A bit of background: I was raised a Roman Catholic -- Catholic School, scary nuns, CCD, confirmation, the whole deal. And I was what you would call (at the time) a 'good' Catholic -- could recite mass - in Latin - along with the priest. Could whip through a ten decade rosary in nothing flat. Shuffled All Saints prayer cards with the best of them (most notably my grandmother). Donated money when I could. Could even call Bingo!
But I struggled with the church. I had questions. And I learned, fairly early on, that the church did NOT like my questions. Many of my conversations with Father LaCross or Monsignor Bierschmidt, or, heaven help us - Sister Maria Goretti - somehow ended in my having 'sinned' for asking the question and being handed some penance or another.
I once even questioned why I had to "go to confession?" Couldn't I just go right to the source? And don't even get me started on the classes I had to take before I was "allowed" to be my nephew's godmother -- I had no problem with the classes...but thought the hefty donation they 'strongly suggested' (as in you don't get your coat or your nephew baptized until you pay) was just, well, wrong.
After these, and other incidents too numerous to mention, I drifted away from the Roman Catholic Church. If pressed to self-identify, I'd say I was a lapsed Catholic. I still considered myself a believer and lived what I thought was a Christian life -- devoting countless hours to non-profit organizations and trying to be the most 'giving' person I could be.
Much had always been given to me -- and I always had a strong sense of returning the favor, paying it foward - whichever phraseology works for you. There was (and is) very little I would not do to help a friend or a person in need.
If you would have asked me a week ago, I would have told you in no uncertain terms how "blessed" I was. And I believed it. But I did not really "get" it.
Religion had been in the back of my mind, kind of lurking there, for the past year or so. When I received an Amazon Kindle for my birthday in June, it amused me that because of its black leather cover, complete strangers starting asking me if I was "reading the Bible." After the fifth or sixth time this occurred, I actually thought to myself, "maybe I should be reading the Bible."
During this same time period, I reconnected with close friend from high school. A great friend - the kind of friend any father would want for his sixteen-year-old daughter. Amazingly, a 20-year timeout had done nothing to break that again almost immediate bond. Even more amazing was the broad similarities our lives had taken - down to both of us eloping, to walking away from bad situations, to even working in the same cities during the same months/years.
And whilst catching up, my friend would occasionally slip in a Biblical reference, or a Faith-based anecdote. Not in an overt way, not in any kind of Bible-waving stereotype that you might imagine -- but in a kind, almost gentle "this is who I am now" turn of phrase. And I was further intrigued -- enough so that when he suggested a book he thought I might get something out of -- I started reading.
Most importantly, he was patient. He'd lob a couple of balls in my court (apologies for the tennis references) and then step back and see what I did with them. No outright evangelism. He let me take the lead in asking questions and expressing frustrations, and then would gently suggest a path, a verse, a column (he's a writer), a song. And his enthusiasm was infectious.
And after several weeks, it all began to come together for me.
The specifics - the exact moment, the precise phrase of verse that got me, those details are not for public consumption -- still too new, and very, very personal. As I think it should be -- at least for me, at least right now. Suffice to say it was among the most profound moments of my life.
I have accepted Jesus Christ into my heart and as my savior. That's the important part.
I didn't "find" Jesus - He found me. Exactly as it was meant to happen, at exactly the moment in time that He thought best.
The few folks I mentioned this to have seemed startled by my revelation. Or amused by it. Or threatened by it. Feel what you must, but be happy for me. For a long I felt as if something important was missing - and I don't feel that anymore. I ask nothing from friends and/or family - I'm sure I won't suddenly start evangelizing. You may notice a new lightness in my step - you may not notice anything.
To many of you, I will simply remain the goofiest person you know.
I am looking at this right now as a journey -- everything about me is the same, and yet nothing is the same.
Friday, November 21, 2008
On Sunday, my favorite person celebrates his 58th birthday!
Trying to buy him a gift is always a challenge -- he's difficult to surprise, and when pressed always says that there is "nothing that he wants." I however, know this is not the case -- I just know that what he really wants cannot be wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow.
So, dear husband, if I had it within my power, this is what I give you for your birthday this year:
1. Another World – I’d bring back your favorite, long-ago canceled soap opera – complete with the characters you loved so much – and a one day ticket to Bay City so you could spend a bit of time with them.
2. A visit with your beloved Pups, long gone to heaven – wouldn’t it be fun to watch Maddie, Manny, and Boris play in the yard with Lucky and Fletcher? And you know not one of them would listen to a simple command without a treat included.
3. A private audience with one of your favorite singers – maybe Janis Joplin?
4. A week without pain of any kind – no aching back – and you could sleep facing any direction you like!
5. Your own piece of private beach -- complete with a big chair, a tall glass of sweet tea, and dolphins jumping in the ocean off in the distance.
6. Your own personal “no fly” zone – there are few things that make you crazier than a buzzing fly – so on this special day I would ensure that your personal space repels all such winged creatures.
7. The opportunity to direct your own Broadway show – with your ‘fantasy’ cast. What would you choose? Mack & Mabel? Or maybe a revival of Kiss of the Spider Woman?
8. A guest appearance on one of the Law & Order shows – you’d be fabulous as a jury foreman, or the guy that finds the body behind the dumpster!
But most of all, I would give you the gift of seeing yourself as others see you. The children whose lives you've impacted -- the ones who run up and hug you in restaurants, the parents who stop you to tell you how well "Susie" or "Billy" is now doing in college or the military. Those who are shocked and pleased that Mr. Stocker remembers them almost ten or twenty years later. A generation of kids who will go out into the world a bit wiser due to your influence and guidance.
Happy Birthday Morty!
Trying to buy him a gift is always a challenge -- he's difficult to surprise, and when pressed always says that there is "nothing that he wants." I however, know this is not the case -- I just know that what he really wants cannot be wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow.
So, dear husband, if I had it within my power, this is what I give you for your birthday this year:
1. Another World – I’d bring back your favorite, long-ago canceled soap opera – complete with the characters you loved so much – and a one day ticket to Bay City so you could spend a bit of time with them.
2. A visit with your beloved Pups, long gone to heaven – wouldn’t it be fun to watch Maddie, Manny, and Boris play in the yard with Lucky and Fletcher? And you know not one of them would listen to a simple command without a treat included.
3. A private audience with one of your favorite singers – maybe Janis Joplin?
4. A week without pain of any kind – no aching back – and you could sleep facing any direction you like!
5. Your own piece of private beach -- complete with a big chair, a tall glass of sweet tea, and dolphins jumping in the ocean off in the distance.
6. Your own personal “no fly” zone – there are few things that make you crazier than a buzzing fly – so on this special day I would ensure that your personal space repels all such winged creatures.
7. The opportunity to direct your own Broadway show – with your ‘fantasy’ cast. What would you choose? Mack & Mabel? Or maybe a revival of Kiss of the Spider Woman?
8. A guest appearance on one of the Law & Order shows – you’d be fabulous as a jury foreman, or the guy that finds the body behind the dumpster!
But most of all, I would give you the gift of seeing yourself as others see you. The children whose lives you've impacted -- the ones who run up and hug you in restaurants, the parents who stop you to tell you how well "Susie" or "Billy" is now doing in college or the military. Those who are shocked and pleased that Mr. Stocker remembers them almost ten or twenty years later. A generation of kids who will go out into the world a bit wiser due to your influence and guidance.
Happy Birthday Morty!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hey! My Buddy Hugh is the Sexiest Man Alive!
It was bound to happen -- after all, how many times can People magazine continue to select those boring, boy-bots as their Sexiest Man Alive?
But finally they got it right -- Hugh Jackman!
Now before I go any further, and for my more manly readers who are already groaning and reaching for the mouse to close this window...stay put -- give me a minute here.
YES -- the "Sexiest Man Alive" concept is positively silly -- I get that. YES -- People Magazine is, for the most part, the worst kind of literary drivel -- 100% with you on that one too.
But Hugh and I go way back!
And, let me tell you -- my first experience with him was filled with utter disdain -- this unknown Aussie was going to play one of my favorite comic book heroes -- Wolverine! I took one look at him and was prepared to forgo the entire X-Men movie franchise! And it didn't help that the only footage Entertainment Tonight had of him was of the UK production of Oklahoma (he played Curley - a singing rancher!).
But the Hugh-ster won me over -- and I enjoyed both his subsequent turns as Wolverine, and other roles (The Prestige anyone? Anyone? And Swordfish?)
But my 'crush' came to a head when he hit the boards (that's Broadway for the uninitiated) in The Boy From Oz. I was very nervous for Hugh (do you like the way I talk about him as if I really know him?) -- my fear was that I wouldn't be able to separate his Wolverine character from the obviously flamboyant Peter Allen. No fear - he had me from the first note he played on the piano. (Yes -- Hugh actually learned to play piano for the role).
I even got to meet him after seeing the show -- both times I saw it. First time was with my Mom...who watched in horror as her normally articulate daughter melted down and could not string two words together. I think the conversation went something like this:
Hugh: Hi, I'm Hugh.
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Did you enjoy the show?
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Well...enjoy the rest of your time in the City
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
My Mom was laughing so hard she barely got me in the frame of the picture -- which, I believe, sadly, speaks for itself. She later said that she was sure Hugh went home that night and told his wife: "...and you wouldn't believe the sweet mentally challenged girl I met after the show..."
A month or so later, hubby and I went to see the show -- and trust me, this time I wasn't even going to ATTEMPT conversation -- until, by coincidence, Brad realized that his college roomie was playing trombone in the pit and he invited us to visit with him after the show.
The less said about the actual visit, the better.
Keep in mind - I am NOT easily flustered, and have worked with celebrities ranging from Sinatra to Billy Joel to U2 and just about everyone in between. Each and every time I managed to conduct myself professionally and with complete decorum.
But this was WOLVERINE!
Imagine if it had been Superman?
But here, for my single male buddies, is why I believe Hugh Jackman is deserving of the Sexiest Man Title -- for those of you who have asked me over the years - "What do women really want?" And trust me -- it has very little do to with his appearance:
1. He loves his wife -- adores her in fact. In every interview I have ever read, and both times I met him -- he talked at length about his wife and (then) son. And I mean talked -- you could see his love for them radiating from him. I was a stranger -- and he told me a funny story about his son -- that demonstrated how proud he was.
2. He shares the wealth. I don't just mean monetarily, although he does that too, through his foundation. He deflects the spotlight from himself and is always pulling others toward it. Saw it in person - "Have you met Isabel, she played my mother-in law..."
3. He's a goof. He sings and dances on movie sets and during interviews! He is unabashedly a fan of musical theatre and doesn't care who knows it. He doesn't 'hide' that which he feels people might poke fun at!
4. He lives in the moment. This is a biggie. When he is speaking with you, you are the single most important person at that moment. He is PRESENT. He is listening and responding in kind. He is paying attention and remembering small details.
To my mind, it has nothing to do with ripped abs or a great smile - that's just window dressing.
But finally they got it right -- Hugh Jackman!
Now before I go any further, and for my more manly readers who are already groaning and reaching for the mouse to close this window...stay put -- give me a minute here.
YES -- the "Sexiest Man Alive" concept is positively silly -- I get that. YES -- People Magazine is, for the most part, the worst kind of literary drivel -- 100% with you on that one too.
But Hugh and I go way back!
And, let me tell you -- my first experience with him was filled with utter disdain -- this unknown Aussie was going to play one of my favorite comic book heroes -- Wolverine! I took one look at him and was prepared to forgo the entire X-Men movie franchise! And it didn't help that the only footage Entertainment Tonight had of him was of the UK production of Oklahoma (he played Curley - a singing rancher!).
But the Hugh-ster won me over -- and I enjoyed both his subsequent turns as Wolverine, and other roles (The Prestige anyone? Anyone? And Swordfish?)
But my 'crush' came to a head when he hit the boards (that's Broadway for the uninitiated) in The Boy From Oz. I was very nervous for Hugh (do you like the way I talk about him as if I really know him?) -- my fear was that I wouldn't be able to separate his Wolverine character from the obviously flamboyant Peter Allen. No fear - he had me from the first note he played on the piano. (Yes -- Hugh actually learned to play piano for the role).
I even got to meet him after seeing the show -- both times I saw it. First time was with my Mom...who watched in horror as her normally articulate daughter melted down and could not string two words together. I think the conversation went something like this:
Hugh: Hi, I'm Hugh.
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Did you enjoy the show?
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
Hugh: Well...enjoy the rest of your time in the City
Laura: Arh arh gobly gok
My Mom was laughing so hard she barely got me in the frame of the picture -- which, I believe, sadly, speaks for itself. She later said that she was sure Hugh went home that night and told his wife: "...and you wouldn't believe the sweet mentally challenged girl I met after the show..."
A month or so later, hubby and I went to see the show -- and trust me, this time I wasn't even going to ATTEMPT conversation -- until, by coincidence, Brad realized that his college roomie was playing trombone in the pit and he invited us to visit with him after the show.
The less said about the actual visit, the better.
Keep in mind - I am NOT easily flustered, and have worked with celebrities ranging from Sinatra to Billy Joel to U2 and just about everyone in between. Each and every time I managed to conduct myself professionally and with complete decorum.
But this was WOLVERINE!
Imagine if it had been Superman?
But here, for my single male buddies, is why I believe Hugh Jackman is deserving of the Sexiest Man Title -- for those of you who have asked me over the years - "What do women really want?" And trust me -- it has very little do to with his appearance:
1. He loves his wife -- adores her in fact. In every interview I have ever read, and both times I met him -- he talked at length about his wife and (then) son. And I mean talked -- you could see his love for them radiating from him. I was a stranger -- and he told me a funny story about his son -- that demonstrated how proud he was.
2. He shares the wealth. I don't just mean monetarily, although he does that too, through his foundation. He deflects the spotlight from himself and is always pulling others toward it. Saw it in person - "Have you met Isabel, she played my mother-in law..."
3. He's a goof. He sings and dances on movie sets and during interviews! He is unabashedly a fan of musical theatre and doesn't care who knows it. He doesn't 'hide' that which he feels people might poke fun at!
4. He lives in the moment. This is a biggie. When he is speaking with you, you are the single most important person at that moment. He is PRESENT. He is listening and responding in kind. He is paying attention and remembering small details.
To my mind, it has nothing to do with ripped abs or a great smile - that's just window dressing.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
"You should tell THAT one..."
One of the interesting things about writing a blog is that not only do I forget that folks are actually reading it, but the "blog topic suggestion" emails I receive after almost every missive. It would seem that I've told a lot of pals a lot of stories over the years (thankfully, I remember almost all of them!).
But above and beyond, the requests seem to be for those stories surrounding my adventures and mis-adventures on the stage.
So here, for all of you fans of "How Many Ways Can Laura Make a Fool of Herself on Stage" -- is my top seven list of Laura's Theatrical Mishaps:
7. Kindergarten: I have a lead role in the Camp Curtin Kindergarten production of "The Four Basic Food Groups" -- playing the challenging role of "milk." It could be my dairy goodness shining through, but I strongly suspect it was type casting, as I was the only caucasion child in the class. Classic moment: deciding that the kid playing "protein" was dancing into my key light -- "protein" went down hard that day.
6. First Grade: I am selected to sing "Take Our Bread" (Hymn no. 88 in any Catholic hymnal) for the All Saints Day service. Having grown up watching Merv Griffin and Dinah Shore, and with minimal rehearsal, halfway through the first verse I unwind the microphone from the stand at the altar and begin walking into the "audience" swinging the cord and hamming it up. Never asked to sing at Holy Family again, although my Dad thought I was GREAT (and was the only one that clapped). If memory serves, my performance actually STOPPED communion.
5. Third Grade: Miss Patsy's School of Dance Spring recital -- we are doing a production number called the "Tossed Salad Ballet" (I know -- who dreams up these dances for small girls?). I was playing a carrot. We all had vegetable costumes with matching hats. About halfway through the first act it occurs to me that the "lettuce" is really the "star" of a salad -- and I am NOT the lettuce! So I do what any 8-year-old prima donna would do -- at intermission, I switch all the hats! Curtain goes up on Act II and all of the little veggie dancers have on mis-matched headpieces. And you can all guess who was wearing the lettuce leaf!
4. High School: Finally a lead role in the play "Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe. I'm playing "Madeleine," a girl who 'returns' from the dead! Great part -- I get painted up like a ghost and actually get to crawl out of a coffin on stage. During opening night, my big scene arrives, and I make my entrance out of the coffin and a small child in the front row yells -- "look, it's Smurfette!" (Picture long blonde hair and blue-ish stage make-up) Audience laughs during my critical - designed to be frightening scene.Some days it just doesn't pay to climb out of your coffin.
3. College -- far too many incidents to get into one blog entry -- kicking a knife on stage that was supposed to a prop but wasn't -- sliced right into my foot and bled all over the stage. Finished the scene and got eleven stitches. Or the time I tap-danced right into the orchestra pit. Or the time I literally got dumped by my college boyfriend during a live production of "A Doll's House" -- he came backstage and dumped me before Act II!
2. Community Theatre: Performing the role of "Audrey" in "Little Shop of Horrors"...gearing up to sing my big first act solo -- and look up to see the show's director literally stuck in a coat rack in the back of the room (probably drunk) -- and my husband desparately trying to free her from the tangle of coat hangers! Somehow managed to get through it without cracking up. I now have a "no wire hangers" clause in all of my performance riders.
and finally, the #1 Laura Theatrical Mishap -- the "Two by Two Fake Pregnancy Belly Incident of 1997"
"Two by Two" is a lovely show - a musical comedy about Noah's Ark. And the final comedic bit (post rainbow and dove) has Noah's three sons and their wives coming out for curtain call with the wives obviously pregnant. (No TV on the Ark) My stage husband and I had only 1 minute prior for a quick costume change in a very small space -- and the poor guy had to more or less "impregnate me" (strapping the pregnancy pillow on me, whilst I held my dress over my head) in the dark, in about a 2'x2' space. Suffice it to say that by the end of the finale, my "belly" was around my knees!
But above and beyond, the requests seem to be for those stories surrounding my adventures and mis-adventures on the stage.
So here, for all of you fans of "How Many Ways Can Laura Make a Fool of Herself on Stage" -- is my top seven list of Laura's Theatrical Mishaps:
7. Kindergarten: I have a lead role in the Camp Curtin Kindergarten production of "The Four Basic Food Groups" -- playing the challenging role of "milk." It could be my dairy goodness shining through, but I strongly suspect it was type casting, as I was the only caucasion child in the class. Classic moment: deciding that the kid playing "protein" was dancing into my key light -- "protein" went down hard that day.
6. First Grade: I am selected to sing "Take Our Bread" (Hymn no. 88 in any Catholic hymnal) for the All Saints Day service. Having grown up watching Merv Griffin and Dinah Shore, and with minimal rehearsal, halfway through the first verse I unwind the microphone from the stand at the altar and begin walking into the "audience" swinging the cord and hamming it up. Never asked to sing at Holy Family again, although my Dad thought I was GREAT (and was the only one that clapped). If memory serves, my performance actually STOPPED communion.
5. Third Grade: Miss Patsy's School of Dance Spring recital -- we are doing a production number called the "Tossed Salad Ballet" (I know -- who dreams up these dances for small girls?). I was playing a carrot. We all had vegetable costumes with matching hats. About halfway through the first act it occurs to me that the "lettuce" is really the "star" of a salad -- and I am NOT the lettuce! So I do what any 8-year-old prima donna would do -- at intermission, I switch all the hats! Curtain goes up on Act II and all of the little veggie dancers have on mis-matched headpieces. And you can all guess who was wearing the lettuce leaf!
4. High School: Finally a lead role in the play "Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe. I'm playing "Madeleine," a girl who 'returns' from the dead! Great part -- I get painted up like a ghost and actually get to crawl out of a coffin on stage. During opening night, my big scene arrives, and I make my entrance out of the coffin and a small child in the front row yells -- "look, it's Smurfette!" (Picture long blonde hair and blue-ish stage make-up) Audience laughs during my critical - designed to be frightening scene.
3. College -- far too many incidents to get into one blog entry -- kicking a knife on stage that was supposed to a prop but wasn't -- sliced right into my foot and bled all over the stage. Finished the scene and got eleven stitches. Or the time I tap-danced right into the orchestra pit. Or the time I literally got dumped by my college boyfriend during a live production of "A Doll's House" -- he came backstage and dumped me before Act II!
2. Community Theatre: Performing the role of "Audrey" in "Little Shop of Horrors"...gearing up to sing my big first act solo -- and look up to see the show's director literally stuck in a coat rack in the back of the room (probably drunk) -- and my husband desparately trying to free her from the tangle of coat hangers! Somehow managed to get through it without cracking up. I now have a "no wire hangers" clause in all of my performance riders.
and finally, the #1 Laura Theatrical Mishap -- the "Two by Two Fake Pregnancy Belly Incident of 1997"
"Two by Two" is a lovely show - a musical comedy about Noah's Ark. And the final comedic bit (post rainbow and dove) has Noah's three sons and their wives coming out for curtain call with the wives obviously pregnant. (No TV on the Ark) My stage husband and I had only 1 minute prior for a quick costume change in a very small space -- and the poor guy had to more or less "impregnate me" (strapping the pregnancy pillow on me, whilst I held my dress over my head) in the dark, in about a 2'x2' space. Suffice it to say that by the end of the finale, my "belly" was around my knees!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
"We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother..."
I can only think of two secrets that my Dad and I shared, over our 38 years together. Neither was truly horrific or life-altering, but they were both incidents that within our tight knit family, only he and I were privy to.
Both were embarrassing (although I didn't think so at the time) and both are most definitely part of the reason why I can never run for public office (you just know that's when the photos would surface!)
Each event would end with these now famous (at least to me!) words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother."
But an email from a friend this morning, brought the memories of incident #1 back to the surface.
I LOVED being a Girl Scout! I was a member of Hemlock Council Girl Scout Troop 1021 for years -- beginning when I was in third grade and continuing, well, until -- well, that's the story.
To me being a Girl Scout represented so many things - and so many opportunities for achievement. I enjoyed being my patrol leader, fundraising, and earning merit badges. I LIVED to earn merit badges and still have my completely covered Girl Scout sash -- which, with little encouragement I am happy to dig out and show to visitors to my home.
(Who am I kidding with the "dig out" -- I know exactly where it is at all times -- on the same shelf with some of my other trophies and tiaras.)
Scouting appealed to my mildly competitive nature as well -- my patrol was the BEST -- no other patrol could do as many sit-ups, pitch a tent faster, or sing The Smile Song in perfect four part harmony! And don't even ask about Cookie sales -- NO ONE could move boxes of Thin Mints like I could!
I took Scouting seriously.
In my mind, I was well on my way to my Gold Award - the Girl Scout equivalent to the coveted Eagle Scout honor.
Even as a kid I only knew two speeds: on and off. "On" is ON - full steam ahead, get out of my way if you know what's good for you -- I'm the original GO FIGHT WIN girl!
"Off" is basically when I'm asleep.
This attitude did not always win me many friends among my patrol members - but they sure enjoyed earning those merit badges with me during the annual award ceremony.
One year in particular I had truly excelled -- to the point where I was asked to represent my troop at the National Juliette Low Day ceremony in Washington DC. I was 13 or 14 and could not have been more excited.
Further, I was asked to introduce the Keynote Speaker!
I worked for weeks on my speech - which was truly only about 8 sentences (after all, although I might have pretended otherwise, I was NOT the Keynote Speaker...)
The day before the trip I was practicing my "speech" with my Dad -- he was a fabulous speaker and I wanted to soak up everything I could -- in my mind this little speech could open doors for me that I couldn't even imagine! Who knew what Hollywood talent scouts might be in attendance (a stretch, I now realize...) -- I wanted my speech to sizzle and be memorable! No one would ever forget the name Laura Baker!
And my poor father didn't even realize the series of events he was setting into motion when he told his 13 year old daughter that "it's always a good idea to begin a speech with a joke - a bit of humor."
Less than 24 hours later, I got up in front of the assembled crowd in DC and announced that I thought we should change the name of the organization from "Girl Scouts" to "Women Scouts" and forgo the annual cookie sale in favor of prostitution.
I'm certain I didn't even know what prostitution was -- just that it was a way to "make money."
To say that no one laughed would be an understatement.
My troop leaders were utterly mortified and I was removed from the stage and returned home quickly.
Three days later I came home from the 7th grade to find my father waiting for me -- a registered letter from the Girl Scouts in his hand.
I was no longer a member.
I was officially booted from Girl Scouts.
I didn't even have to tell him what happened -- it was all in the letter. And, having read it, he immediately understood his "part" in what had occurred.
I'm sure I cried on his lap until my sisters got home. And then he uttered those now famous words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother..."
And we never did.
Now 29 years later, I've been asked to participate in a one-time Girl Scout event -- and I'm excited about the possibility -- but trust me: no jokes this time around!
Both were embarrassing (although I didn't think so at the time) and both are most definitely part of the reason why I can never run for public office (you just know that's when the photos would surface!)
Each event would end with these now famous (at least to me!) words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother."
But an email from a friend this morning, brought the memories of incident #1 back to the surface.
I LOVED being a Girl Scout! I was a member of Hemlock Council Girl Scout Troop 1021 for years -- beginning when I was in third grade and continuing, well, until -- well, that's the story.
To me being a Girl Scout represented so many things - and so many opportunities for achievement. I enjoyed being my patrol leader, fundraising, and earning merit badges. I LIVED to earn merit badges and still have my completely covered Girl Scout sash -- which, with little encouragement I am happy to dig out and show to visitors to my home.
(Who am I kidding with the "dig out" -- I know exactly where it is at all times -- on the same shelf with some of my other trophies and tiaras.)
Scouting appealed to my mildly competitive nature as well -- my patrol was the BEST -- no other patrol could do as many sit-ups, pitch a tent faster, or sing The Smile Song in perfect four part harmony! And don't even ask about Cookie sales -- NO ONE could move boxes of Thin Mints like I could!
I took Scouting seriously.
In my mind, I was well on my way to my Gold Award - the Girl Scout equivalent to the coveted Eagle Scout honor.
Even as a kid I only knew two speeds: on and off. "On" is ON - full steam ahead, get out of my way if you know what's good for you -- I'm the original GO FIGHT WIN girl!
"Off" is basically when I'm asleep.
This attitude did not always win me many friends among my patrol members - but they sure enjoyed earning those merit badges with me during the annual award ceremony.
One year in particular I had truly excelled -- to the point where I was asked to represent my troop at the National Juliette Low Day ceremony in Washington DC. I was 13 or 14 and could not have been more excited.
Further, I was asked to introduce the Keynote Speaker!
I worked for weeks on my speech - which was truly only about 8 sentences (after all, although I might have pretended otherwise, I was NOT the Keynote Speaker...)
The day before the trip I was practicing my "speech" with my Dad -- he was a fabulous speaker and I wanted to soak up everything I could -- in my mind this little speech could open doors for me that I couldn't even imagine! Who knew what Hollywood talent scouts might be in attendance (a stretch, I now realize...) -- I wanted my speech to sizzle and be memorable! No one would ever forget the name Laura Baker!
And my poor father didn't even realize the series of events he was setting into motion when he told his 13 year old daughter that "it's always a good idea to begin a speech with a joke - a bit of humor."
Less than 24 hours later, I got up in front of the assembled crowd in DC and announced that I thought we should change the name of the organization from "Girl Scouts" to "Women Scouts" and forgo the annual cookie sale in favor of prostitution.
I'm certain I didn't even know what prostitution was -- just that it was a way to "make money."
To say that no one laughed would be an understatement.
My troop leaders were utterly mortified and I was removed from the stage and returned home quickly.
Three days later I came home from the 7th grade to find my father waiting for me -- a registered letter from the Girl Scouts in his hand.
I was no longer a member.
I was officially booted from Girl Scouts.
I didn't even have to tell him what happened -- it was all in the letter. And, having read it, he immediately understood his "part" in what had occurred.
I'm sure I cried on his lap until my sisters got home. And then he uttered those now famous words: "We should probably NOT mention this to your Mother..."
And we never did.
Now 29 years later, I've been asked to participate in a one-time Girl Scout event -- and I'm excited about the possibility -- but trust me: no jokes this time around!
Friday, October 24, 2008
375 Channels...and little of interest...
Just received another of my twice yearly letters from Comcast, our local cable company, raising my rates again. But unlike the the February missive, this one had a bonus! We will now be receiving three NEW channels: The Golf Channel, The Sportsman Channel and The History Channel en Español!
And, at no additional charge!
Now I am certain that much research went into the selection of the new channels now offered to those of us residing in Pennsylvania Dutch Country. And we do have a large population of Latinos in our area that I'm equally sure have been clamoring for The History Channel... I'll even grant the powers that be the Sportsman Channel, which I'm assuming (perhaps incorrectly) is focused toward hunters and fishermen.
But The Golf Channel?
If Comcast is really interested in providing truly audience specific programming options, I've a few to suggest:
The Austen Channel -- All Jane Austen! All the time! Classic Jane Austen films, made for TV movies and videotaped book clubs! Travelogues with titles like "I'd Rather Be At Pemberly"...and a great morning show called "Breakfast with the Darcys." Okay...there were only five books, so I'd be willing to expand to include the Bronte sisters...
V -- The Vampire Network -- A channel dedicated to goth culture and vampirism. Can you picture the evening talk show? Interview with the Vampire! Room here for both Buffy fans and Twilighters alike.
Curtains -- A channel dedicated to Broadway -- The Great White Way!
Tiara Television --In addition to Miss America highlights, it could show reruns of Designing Women ("...And THAT Marjorie, was the Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia!"
And finally (you had to see this coming):
Blue Tights TV -- you guessed it -- a channel devoted to the world's favorite Superhero - Superman! I'd even be willing to expand it to include the entire DC universe. Superfriends on Saturday mornings, afternoons with George Reeves, all four seasons of Lois & Clark. Plus a whole programming block on "Finding the Superhero Within..."
Who is with me?
And, at no additional charge!
Now I am certain that much research went into the selection of the new channels now offered to those of us residing in Pennsylvania Dutch Country. And we do have a large population of Latinos in our area that I'm equally sure have been clamoring for The History Channel... I'll even grant the powers that be the Sportsman Channel, which I'm assuming (perhaps incorrectly) is focused toward hunters and fishermen.
But The Golf Channel?
If Comcast is really interested in providing truly audience specific programming options, I've a few to suggest:
The Austen Channel -- All Jane Austen! All the time! Classic Jane Austen films, made for TV movies and videotaped book clubs! Travelogues with titles like "I'd Rather Be At Pemberly"...and a great morning show called "Breakfast with the Darcys." Okay...there were only five books, so I'd be willing to expand to include the Bronte sisters...
V -- The Vampire Network -- A channel dedicated to goth culture and vampirism. Can you picture the evening talk show? Interview with the Vampire! Room here for both Buffy fans and Twilighters alike.
Curtains -- A channel dedicated to Broadway -- The Great White Way!
Tiara Television --In addition to Miss America highlights, it could show reruns of Designing Women ("...And THAT Marjorie, was the Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia!"
And finally (you had to see this coming):
Blue Tights TV -- you guessed it -- a channel devoted to the world's favorite Superhero - Superman! I'd even be willing to expand it to include the entire DC universe. Superfriends on Saturday mornings, afternoons with George Reeves, all four seasons of Lois & Clark. Plus a whole programming block on "Finding the Superhero Within..."
Who is with me?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
...and all I have to do is Dream.
Chatting with a friend this morning about dreams -- not our grand hopes and dreams -- but those that occur whilst sleeping. While I have perfect recall of my dreams - in vivid Technicolor with full details (...and honey, you were wearing your blue shirt with the white collar...), my friend has the ability to decide in advance what he'd like to dream about, and then go to it!
If only I could do that! Or at the very least program myself to not dream about spreadsheets and forecasts!
But the conversation stirred up a childhood memory for me...
I believe I was about seven and my baby sister was about three. We were staying with Granny in Ohio, and Baby Sis came skipping down to breakfast one morning and announced, over her Sugar Smacks, that she'd "had a movie" the night before while sleeping!
She described her "movie" to us in the kind of detail only a three-year-old could -- "pretty colors, and me and Lolly were playing by the pond and eating cookies..." I can clearly remember her delight -- her little green eyes dancing with joy.
Why I felt the need to ruin it for her isn't clear to me to this day. But, being the older, wiser sister, I explained the full dream phenomena to her -- emphasizing the fact that if she didn't behave during the day, snakes and alligators would be in her "movies" at night!
Imagine my excitement, when later in the evening, the entire household was awakened by my baby sister screaming in her sleep -- having nightmares about the snakes in her bed.
Oh, the power I felt!
The next day I taught her all about monsters that ate little children who mis-behaved. I don't think our family slept through the night the entire summer.
I did finally own up to my 'experiment' some years later (like when I was in college).
And I don't think I was really an evil child. But I was really smart for my age (regardless of the age) and I knew it. And thought it was fun to play "Great and Powerful Oz" with my sisters.
It's a wonder they still speak to me. Between the ages of 4 and 8, I:
-- Terrorized Baby Sis by making her 'bow to worship a wooden spoon' -- yes, imagine the worst - I had her face down on the kitchen floor while I waved the spoon and forced her to pledge eternal allegiance to it!
-- Pushed my slightly younger sister into a sharp-cornered coffee table, resulting in her getting 16 stitches in her face (up her nose and into her mouth). Later I told her friends that she had a cleft palate.
-- Hid their toys constantly -- I recall specific incidents with Mrs. Beasley and the laundry chute, and burying the sock monkey bunny rabbit she couldn't sleep without in the back yard (in a thunderstorm, no less!)
-- Talked Baby sister into seeing if she could fit into the abandoned refrigerator in the alley behind our house...she couldn't -- but the neighbor girl could -- I even got the door shut! Learned that folks really freak out about that sort of thing.
I am, to this day, the only person I know who got suspended from Kindergarten - twice. The first time involved cutting off a classmate's long braid with safety scissors (in my defense, I did warn her three times to get her nasty hair off my desk!). And the second time involved me and another child having a verbal disagreement. I won the war of the words, but ended up with 72 stitches in my head (I had the words -- he had a brick).
I don't think I landed in an ultra-strict Catholic school by accident.
And Sister Maria Deloris straightened me out BIG TIME.
But that's a blog entry for another day.
If only I could do that! Or at the very least program myself to not dream about spreadsheets and forecasts!
But the conversation stirred up a childhood memory for me...
I believe I was about seven and my baby sister was about three. We were staying with Granny in Ohio, and Baby Sis came skipping down to breakfast one morning and announced, over her Sugar Smacks, that she'd "had a movie" the night before while sleeping!
She described her "movie" to us in the kind of detail only a three-year-old could -- "pretty colors, and me and Lolly were playing by the pond and eating cookies..." I can clearly remember her delight -- her little green eyes dancing with joy.
Why I felt the need to ruin it for her isn't clear to me to this day. But, being the older, wiser sister, I explained the full dream phenomena to her -- emphasizing the fact that if she didn't behave during the day, snakes and alligators would be in her "movies" at night!
Imagine my excitement, when later in the evening, the entire household was awakened by my baby sister screaming in her sleep -- having nightmares about the snakes in her bed.
Oh, the power I felt!
The next day I taught her all about monsters that ate little children who mis-behaved. I don't think our family slept through the night the entire summer.
I did finally own up to my 'experiment' some years later (like when I was in college).
And I don't think I was really an evil child. But I was really smart for my age (regardless of the age) and I knew it. And thought it was fun to play "Great and Powerful Oz" with my sisters.
It's a wonder they still speak to me. Between the ages of 4 and 8, I:
-- Terrorized Baby Sis by making her 'bow to worship a wooden spoon' -- yes, imagine the worst - I had her face down on the kitchen floor while I waved the spoon and forced her to pledge eternal allegiance to it!
-- Pushed my slightly younger sister into a sharp-cornered coffee table, resulting in her getting 16 stitches in her face (up her nose and into her mouth). Later I told her friends that she had a cleft palate.
-- Hid their toys constantly -- I recall specific incidents with Mrs. Beasley and the laundry chute, and burying the sock monkey bunny rabbit she couldn't sleep without in the back yard (in a thunderstorm, no less!)
-- Talked Baby sister into seeing if she could fit into the abandoned refrigerator in the alley behind our house...she couldn't -- but the neighbor girl could -- I even got the door shut! Learned that folks really freak out about that sort of thing.
I am, to this day, the only person I know who got suspended from Kindergarten - twice. The first time involved cutting off a classmate's long braid with safety scissors (in my defense, I did warn her three times to get her nasty hair off my desk!). And the second time involved me and another child having a verbal disagreement. I won the war of the words, but ended up with 72 stitches in my head (I had the words -- he had a brick).
I don't think I landed in an ultra-strict Catholic school by accident.
And Sister Maria Deloris straightened me out BIG TIME.
But that's a blog entry for another day.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Ode to my Chicken Salad Sandwich
Admittedly, I'm a foodie.
I just love food...making it, eating it, dining in, dining out...and I can get equally excited about the perfect toasted cheese sandwich or Lobster Thermodor.
I enjoy just reading cookbooks. I have dozens of them...most of which have never been used to actually prepare a meal -- just like reading the recipes and looking at the pretty pictures of food.
Most days, breakfast is barely digested before I'm thinking about lunch.
And while I'm not the greatest cook, I like to think I'm well known in my small circle for my hors-d'oevres, appetizers and desserts.
I once stayed an extra day in Paris, just so I could visit the famous Laduree bakery!
My husband knows I'll follow him just about anywhere with the promise of a good meal. And again, equally happy at Joe's Steaks or Susanna Foo.
But today's missive is about the perfect chicken salad sandwich.
Honestly, I'm not a huge sandwich gal. My lunch preferences are usually along the lines of something ethnic (egg rolls? thai noodles?) or salad, with the odd chicken mcnugget thrown in.
That was before I discovered, no -- stumbled upon Barb & Suzi's stand at the Lebanon Farmer's Market.
The market is about two blocks from my office and has a number of good food options, not too surprisingly, most of them are centered around Pennsylvania Dutch cooking -- not one of my favorites.
But Barb & Suzi have a deli that has the most incredible chicken salad I've ever tasted.
I can't even begin to describe it -- but will try: picture big chunks of grilled chicken, chopped dates, cranberries, pineapple, finely chopped celery in a dressing that I'm guessing has equal parts mayo and sour cream.
YUM!
I could eat it out of a bowl with a spoon -- but usually get it on white bread. No white bread today, so I got it on a croissant.
I wouldn't care if they served it to me on tree bark -- it's THAT good. And the big scoop they put on my bread makes it a meal in and of itself -- although they are willing to add lettuce or tomato if you like (I don't -- I'm a chicken salad purist).
So...if you're paying me a visit and that visit might involve food (although I'd be hard-pressed to imagine me entertaining anyone without food)...plan for a Thursday or Friday -- as those are days the Farmer's Market is open.
See me on a Tuesday if you want Thai or Asian fusion...
I just love food...making it, eating it, dining in, dining out...and I can get equally excited about the perfect toasted cheese sandwich or Lobster Thermodor.
I enjoy just reading cookbooks. I have dozens of them...most of which have never been used to actually prepare a meal -- just like reading the recipes and looking at the pretty pictures of food.
Most days, breakfast is barely digested before I'm thinking about lunch.
And while I'm not the greatest cook, I like to think I'm well known in my small circle for my hors-d'oevres, appetizers and desserts.
I once stayed an extra day in Paris, just so I could visit the famous Laduree bakery!
My husband knows I'll follow him just about anywhere with the promise of a good meal. And again, equally happy at Joe's Steaks or Susanna Foo.
But today's missive is about the perfect chicken salad sandwich.
Honestly, I'm not a huge sandwich gal. My lunch preferences are usually along the lines of something ethnic (egg rolls? thai noodles?) or salad, with the odd chicken mcnugget thrown in.
That was before I discovered, no -- stumbled upon Barb & Suzi's stand at the Lebanon Farmer's Market.
The market is about two blocks from my office and has a number of good food options, not too surprisingly, most of them are centered around Pennsylvania Dutch cooking -- not one of my favorites.
But Barb & Suzi have a deli that has the most incredible chicken salad I've ever tasted.
I can't even begin to describe it -- but will try: picture big chunks of grilled chicken, chopped dates, cranberries, pineapple, finely chopped celery in a dressing that I'm guessing has equal parts mayo and sour cream.
YUM!
I could eat it out of a bowl with a spoon -- but usually get it on white bread. No white bread today, so I got it on a croissant.
I wouldn't care if they served it to me on tree bark -- it's THAT good. And the big scoop they put on my bread makes it a meal in and of itself -- although they are willing to add lettuce or tomato if you like (I don't -- I'm a chicken salad purist).
So...if you're paying me a visit and that visit might involve food (although I'd be hard-pressed to imagine me entertaining anyone without food)...plan for a Thursday or Friday -- as those are days the Farmer's Market is open.
See me on a Tuesday if you want Thai or Asian fusion...
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Dear Mr. Postman...why has thou forsaketh me?
We all remember the old postal service adage:
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"
Apparently, this is not applicable to Cleona, Pennsylvania.
Cleona, Pennsylvania is a wonderful place to live. Nestled in the heart of beautiful Lebanon county, it is a small community of tree-lined streets, friendly faces and outdoor holiday decorators. Often grouped together with neighboring Annville boro, as in Annville-Cleona School District, Cleona is my home.
I have lived in "Gloryland" (Cleona comes from the Latin word for "glory") since my marriage some fifteen years ago. And for most of those fifteen years, I was blissfully unaware of my mail service. It arrived without issue -- bills, letters from grandparents, my beloved National Geographic, and junk.
I rarely gave it a passing thought. It simply was.
Even the time our mailman cited us to his superiors (he wanted us to move our mailbox from the front door to the back door so he could avoid crossing in front of our house), the issue was resolved peacefully and with minimal angst.
Then, several years ago, Lebanon County changed zip codes around a bit, so that the entire south side of Lebanon City now shared a zip code with tiny Cleona.
You see where this is going.
Yes...we are now one of the few unfortunate folks who now share a complete address with another family in Lebanon city -- number, street and zip code. And because the Cleona post office is an "adjunct" of the big Lebanon post office -- at least half the time, our mail goes to this nice family in Lebanon.
We do occasionally get something of theirs, but maybe once a month -- compared to the daily influx of our mail that they receive. And they are tired of it...as are we.
At first, it was kind of funny...we'd get a call from them -- "We got your phone bill again!" And then it became mildly annoying -- "We're just going to start handing your mail back to the carrier."
And then it started getting scary -- as we realized that we weren't getting bills that needed to be paid on time. That new health insurance cards hadn't arrived...financial statements...retirement checks.
And the problem is actually bigger than the local post office (although that's where it began). Most computer databases, when 17042 is entered, pop up Lebanon, PA automatically. So, even though I have personally spoken to and mailed/emailed representatives ranging from LLBean to the electric company to our local lawn care guy...as soon as they get a database update, our mail starts being labeled "Lebanon" again!
So, not only are we not getting mail addressed to us IN Cleona -- the master postal databases are convinced we live in Lebanon. And the problem is exacerbated by the ever revolving door of postal carriers in our area -- we no sooner get someone up to speed than she or he retires or gets re-assigned to Palmyra.
And the once "very nice people" in Lebanon with our address are now really annoyed with the situation.
As are we.
We've contacted everyone we can think of and have had many helpful suggestions from the Postal Service...the four digit addition to the zip code? Doesn't help. Re-writing our address as "Chestnut Street East" instead of "East Chestnut Street" -- no results.
Local representatives and congressman have promised to look into the situation - but again, no results. I even sent a letter to the postmaster general. Zilch.
My best story was a few Christmas's ago. I had ordered my husband a leather jacket from a men's specialty catalog. It was my first order from the catalog.
After ten minutes on the phone with the customer service rep -- explaining about the zip code issue and being assured that she manually changed it in the computer, she asked me if I wanted to open an account with the company -- it involved a hefty discount on the coat. Another barrage of questions later I was done.
One week later, my husband was home alone when the call came from the nice people in Lebanon -- a large box had been delivered to them in my husband's name.
He drove to get it, opened it, and ruined his holiday surprise.
The company had:
1. Put it in his name instead of mine as requested (the original catalog had been in his name)
2. Sent it to the wrong address (Lebanon, even though they had "overwritten" it in the system)
and to top it all off -- they then sent him the bill. For his surprise present!
Needless to say, I know have packages shipped to my office -- and have gone paperless with most bills/creditors.
But then today, ran home at lunch to let the pups out, and there is the insurance claim I've been waiting two months for...it had gone to...you guessed it...Lebanon PA.
In the immortal words of The Marvelettes... "PLEASE Mr. Postman!"
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"
Apparently, this is not applicable to Cleona, Pennsylvania.
Cleona, Pennsylvania is a wonderful place to live. Nestled in the heart of beautiful Lebanon county, it is a small community of tree-lined streets, friendly faces and outdoor holiday decorators. Often grouped together with neighboring Annville boro, as in Annville-Cleona School District, Cleona is my home.
I have lived in "Gloryland" (Cleona comes from the Latin word for "glory") since my marriage some fifteen years ago. And for most of those fifteen years, I was blissfully unaware of my mail service. It arrived without issue -- bills, letters from grandparents, my beloved National Geographic, and junk.
I rarely gave it a passing thought. It simply was.
Even the time our mailman cited us to his superiors (he wanted us to move our mailbox from the front door to the back door so he could avoid crossing in front of our house), the issue was resolved peacefully and with minimal angst.
Then, several years ago, Lebanon County changed zip codes around a bit, so that the entire south side of Lebanon City now shared a zip code with tiny Cleona.
You see where this is going.
Yes...we are now one of the few unfortunate folks who now share a complete address with another family in Lebanon city -- number, street and zip code. And because the Cleona post office is an "adjunct" of the big Lebanon post office -- at least half the time, our mail goes to this nice family in Lebanon.
We do occasionally get something of theirs, but maybe once a month -- compared to the daily influx of our mail that they receive. And they are tired of it...as are we.
At first, it was kind of funny...we'd get a call from them -- "We got your phone bill again!" And then it became mildly annoying -- "We're just going to start handing your mail back to the carrier."
And then it started getting scary -- as we realized that we weren't getting bills that needed to be paid on time. That new health insurance cards hadn't arrived...financial statements...retirement checks.
And the problem is actually bigger than the local post office (although that's where it began). Most computer databases, when 17042 is entered, pop up Lebanon, PA automatically. So, even though I have personally spoken to and mailed/emailed representatives ranging from LLBean to the electric company to our local lawn care guy...as soon as they get a database update, our mail starts being labeled "Lebanon" again!
So, not only are we not getting mail addressed to us IN Cleona -- the master postal databases are convinced we live in Lebanon. And the problem is exacerbated by the ever revolving door of postal carriers in our area -- we no sooner get someone up to speed than she or he retires or gets re-assigned to Palmyra.
And the once "very nice people" in Lebanon with our address are now really annoyed with the situation.
As are we.
We've contacted everyone we can think of and have had many helpful suggestions from the Postal Service...the four digit addition to the zip code? Doesn't help. Re-writing our address as "Chestnut Street East" instead of "East Chestnut Street" -- no results.
Local representatives and congressman have promised to look into the situation - but again, no results. I even sent a letter to the postmaster general. Zilch.
My best story was a few Christmas's ago. I had ordered my husband a leather jacket from a men's specialty catalog. It was my first order from the catalog.
After ten minutes on the phone with the customer service rep -- explaining about the zip code issue and being assured that she manually changed it in the computer, she asked me if I wanted to open an account with the company -- it involved a hefty discount on the coat. Another barrage of questions later I was done.
One week later, my husband was home alone when the call came from the nice people in Lebanon -- a large box had been delivered to them in my husband's name.
He drove to get it, opened it, and ruined his holiday surprise.
The company had:
1. Put it in his name instead of mine as requested (the original catalog had been in his name)
2. Sent it to the wrong address (Lebanon, even though they had "overwritten" it in the system)
and to top it all off -- they then sent him the bill. For his surprise present!
Needless to say, I know have packages shipped to my office -- and have gone paperless with most bills/creditors.
But then today, ran home at lunch to let the pups out, and there is the insurance claim I've been waiting two months for...it had gone to...you guessed it...Lebanon PA.
In the immortal words of The Marvelettes... "PLEASE Mr. Postman!"
Thursday, October 9, 2008
If you're worried, and you can't sleep...count your blessings, instead of sheep...
Although my husband would disagree -- he claims that I sleep like the dead (and am equally immovable!) -- I've not been sleeping well lately...blame it on stress...the upcoming election...the economy...
I fall asleep very easily -- too easily -- but find that I wake up at 3 a.m. -- wide awake and mind racing.
My old tools have been failing me:
1. Counting backward from 100 by sevens -- this used to do the trick...somewhere around 65 I'd nod off.
2. Ascension to the British throne...again, just enough thought required that I couldn't fret... and I'd be snoring somewhere around the former Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones (now Chatto).
or that old stand-by...The Fibonacci Sequence...1...1...2...3...5...8...13...21...34...snooze...
But lately I've been finding that counting my blessings works best. Maybe its nostalgia...growing older...of a love White Christmas...
I start at the top...God...love...family...friends...health...make my way through home and hearth, pets...
...and soon I fall asleep...counting my blessings.
I fall asleep very easily -- too easily -- but find that I wake up at 3 a.m. -- wide awake and mind racing.
My old tools have been failing me:
1. Counting backward from 100 by sevens -- this used to do the trick...somewhere around 65 I'd nod off.
2. Ascension to the British throne...again, just enough thought required that I couldn't fret... and I'd be snoring somewhere around the former Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones (now Chatto).
or that old stand-by...The Fibonacci Sequence...1...1...2...3...5...8...13...21...34...snooze...
But lately I've been finding that counting my blessings works best. Maybe its nostalgia...growing older...of a love White Christmas...
I start at the top...God...love...family...friends...health...make my way through home and hearth, pets...
...and soon I fall asleep...counting my blessings.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
It's okay...please...touch yourself!
Got your attention did I?
Those who know me well, know that there are few areas in which I am 'militant' in my opinions...but breast self-examination is one of them.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month -- the month in which half of everything in the supermarket suddenly, magically, has a pink label or pink ribbon on it. And while it's easier with each passing year to tune out the marketing, the message is more important than ever.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer with such a vengence that it can keep me awake at night.
I've been known to overhear two people I don't KNOW talking about postponing mammagrams, and interrupted their conversation to point them toward the nearest clinic.
Yesterday, I started a meeting at work -- with three twenty-something young men, mind you -- by reminding them of Breast Cancer Awareness month and asking them to please remind their Mom's, wives and girlfriends to self-examine and/or get a mammogram. I offered each a pink frosted cupcake (left over from a cancer fundraiser the day before).
It was a heck of a way to start a meeting.
The 'new guy' looked like he really wanted to bolt.
I even suggested that it might be fun for them to "help" with the self-exam -- hey! -- if it gets the job done...
I have lost too many people that I love to cancer, included my beloved Dad. I have seen the face of this disease up close and personal -- and would not wish it on my worst enemy. I have a friend right now who is surviving admirably. I donate as much time as I can to fundraising and awareness.
But I am only one person -- albiet a LOUD person.
So I challenge all of you out there -- talk to your Mom this month...or your wife...or your sister... or special female person in your life. Ask the sometime uncomfortable question...when was your last self-exam, doctor's exam, or mammagram? Encourage them to take appropriate action. Got a voice? Use it!
I'm doing it -- to the shock and sometimes dumbfoundedness (is that a word) of friends and co-workers. And I'm wearing as much pink this month as I can...to remind myself and others without saying a word.
At the eye doctor yesterday I saw a woman with a pink t-shirt on...I first saw her from behind and could see an ACS logo on the back on her shirt...but the real message was on the front of her shirt...when she turned around -- it said:
Yes -- these are FAKE
(the real ones almost killed me!)
Suddenly my own petty problems and issues didn't seem all that important...
Just wait until National Prostate Cancer month -- I'll really stir things up then!
Those who know me well, know that there are few areas in which I am 'militant' in my opinions...but breast self-examination is one of them.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month -- the month in which half of everything in the supermarket suddenly, magically, has a pink label or pink ribbon on it. And while it's easier with each passing year to tune out the marketing, the message is more important than ever.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer with such a vengence that it can keep me awake at night.
I've been known to overhear two people I don't KNOW talking about postponing mammagrams, and interrupted their conversation to point them toward the nearest clinic.
Yesterday, I started a meeting at work -- with three twenty-something young men, mind you -- by reminding them of Breast Cancer Awareness month and asking them to please remind their Mom's, wives and girlfriends to self-examine and/or get a mammogram. I offered each a pink frosted cupcake (left over from a cancer fundraiser the day before).
It was a heck of a way to start a meeting.
The 'new guy' looked like he really wanted to bolt.
I even suggested that it might be fun for them to "help" with the self-exam -- hey! -- if it gets the job done...
I have lost too many people that I love to cancer, included my beloved Dad. I have seen the face of this disease up close and personal -- and would not wish it on my worst enemy. I have a friend right now who is surviving admirably. I donate as much time as I can to fundraising and awareness.
But I am only one person -- albiet a LOUD person.
So I challenge all of you out there -- talk to your Mom this month...or your wife...or your sister... or special female person in your life. Ask the sometime uncomfortable question...when was your last self-exam, doctor's exam, or mammagram? Encourage them to take appropriate action. Got a voice? Use it!
I'm doing it -- to the shock and sometimes dumbfoundedness (is that a word) of friends and co-workers. And I'm wearing as much pink this month as I can...to remind myself and others without saying a word.
At the eye doctor yesterday I saw a woman with a pink t-shirt on...I first saw her from behind and could see an ACS logo on the back on her shirt...but the real message was on the front of her shirt...when she turned around -- it said:
Yes -- these are FAKE
(the real ones almost killed me!)
Suddenly my own petty problems and issues didn't seem all that important...
Just wait until National Prostate Cancer month -- I'll really stir things up then!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Forever Plaid!
I have many idiosyncrasies -- could easily be voted the president of the Island of Misfit Toys -- and there are things that I just LOVE that others find unusual to say the least.
But the greatest of these could possibly be my love affair with plaid.
Yes - plaid.
I'm not talking about any old plaid either -- no madras or light cotton -- I'm talking about authentic Scottish and Irish clan based tartans -- generally loomed from wool.
I'm sure this can be traced to my early education at the hands of Sister Maria Deloris at our local Catholic school. We wore plaid every day -- jumper, white blouse with peter pan collar and saddle shoes.
Once we moved and I transferred to public school, I was a mess -- I missed the plaid! Suddenly I had to select clothes to wear to school in the morning. My Mom would take me school shopping and desperately try to point me toward fashionable clothes -- nope -- I wanted to wear a Black Watch tartan with a navy sweater. Fortunately the preppy look was in during the mid-eighties...
I almost wore a plaid gown to the Prom -- but Mom put her foot down.
I actually got married in a Royal Stewart kilt and matching sweater (and have repeatedly asked my husband to make sure I get buried in my Black Watch tartan)!
I still wear saddle shoes...and have been asked if I'm going to a "fifties" party -- nope, just to the office...
Plaid is comfortable to me...like I imagine old sweats are to some people? My bathrobe is plaid, as is much of my existing wardrobe and my dog's bed. In 2003 I almost bought a mini-cooper with an "all plaid" interior -- alas, my 6'2" hubby couldn't fit into it.
When the following cartoon came out this morning -- no less than six people forwarded it me -- all referencing some variation of "look -- this is about you!"
But the greatest of these could possibly be my love affair with plaid.
Yes - plaid.
I'm not talking about any old plaid either -- no madras or light cotton -- I'm talking about authentic Scottish and Irish clan based tartans -- generally loomed from wool.
I'm sure this can be traced to my early education at the hands of Sister Maria Deloris at our local Catholic school. We wore plaid every day -- jumper, white blouse with peter pan collar and saddle shoes.
Once we moved and I transferred to public school, I was a mess -- I missed the plaid! Suddenly I had to select clothes to wear to school in the morning. My Mom would take me school shopping and desperately try to point me toward fashionable clothes -- nope -- I wanted to wear a Black Watch tartan with a navy sweater. Fortunately the preppy look was in during the mid-eighties...
I almost wore a plaid gown to the Prom -- but Mom put her foot down.
I actually got married in a Royal Stewart kilt and matching sweater (and have repeatedly asked my husband to make sure I get buried in my Black Watch tartan)!
I still wear saddle shoes...and have been asked if I'm going to a "fifties" party -- nope, just to the office...
Plaid is comfortable to me...like I imagine old sweats are to some people? My bathrobe is plaid, as is much of my existing wardrobe and my dog's bed. In 2003 I almost bought a mini-cooper with an "all plaid" interior -- alas, my 6'2" hubby couldn't fit into it.
When the following cartoon came out this morning -- no less than six people forwarded it me -- all referencing some variation of "look -- this is about you!"
What can I say...they speak the truth!
Long live plaid!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!
It started this morning when I was walking up Market Street in Philly...that brief twinge of "I should have worn a jacket today..."
It continued as I battled the PA Turnpike on my way home -- and could just see a vague dusting of orange across the tops of the trees...
Autumn -- my favorite time of year -- is here!
Frankly...I used to call it "Miss America through Christmas" but those dumb clucks at MAO decided to move that venerable institution from Atlantic City to Vegas, and from late September to February... but that's a topic for another post!
Already I'm itching to begin decorating for Halloween...and then Thanksgiving...and then Christmas!
Shoot, I may even wear one of my tiaras around the house this weekend to honor the pageant that isn't happening...
I know it must seem odd to some folks -- particularly some folks in my own neighborhood, but we go ALL OUT on holiday decorating here at Stately Stocker Manor.
From the hand-crafted tombstones in front of the house to paper machier ghosts, to the two platform miniature porcelain Halloween village we construct in the living room...just love it! Plus the blacklights -- lots of blacklights in the windows...I could go on...but sadly you see where I am going with this.
It continued as I battled the PA Turnpike on my way home -- and could just see a vague dusting of orange across the tops of the trees...
Autumn -- my favorite time of year -- is here!
Frankly...I used to call it "Miss America through Christmas" but those dumb clucks at MAO decided to move that venerable institution from Atlantic City to Vegas, and from late September to February... but that's a topic for another post!
Already I'm itching to begin decorating for Halloween...and then Thanksgiving...and then Christmas!
Shoot, I may even wear one of my tiaras around the house this weekend to honor the pageant that isn't happening...
I know it must seem odd to some folks -- particularly some folks in my own neighborhood, but we go ALL OUT on holiday decorating here at Stately Stocker Manor.
From the hand-crafted tombstones in front of the house to paper machier ghosts, to the two platform miniature porcelain Halloween village we construct in the living room...just love it! Plus the blacklights -- lots of blacklights in the windows...I could go on...but sadly you see where I am going with this.
And of course, there must ALWAYS be some kind of holiday tribute to the Man of Steel!
I love it all! I enjoy making my own Halloween candy...dressing the dogs in Superman costumes...and trying to guess which neighborhood kids are beneath the masks...
When we were kidlets, my Mom used to make us wonderful Halloween costumes -- we'd start planning them in mid-August. Plus bobbing for apples -- do kids even know what that is anymore? And this was back in the day when neighbors handed out FULL SIZED Hershey bars...not those pathetic little one-bite miniatures.
I even took October 31 off this year in anticipation of the festivities...
I can already taste my first candied apple!
And the urge to make a pie is almost overwhelming...
Just wait until you see what we have planned for Christmas!
I love it all! I enjoy making my own Halloween candy...dressing the dogs in Superman costumes...and trying to guess which neighborhood kids are beneath the masks...
When we were kidlets, my Mom used to make us wonderful Halloween costumes -- we'd start planning them in mid-August. Plus bobbing for apples -- do kids even know what that is anymore? And this was back in the day when neighbors handed out FULL SIZED Hershey bars...not those pathetic little one-bite miniatures.
I even took October 31 off this year in anticipation of the festivities...
I can already taste my first candied apple!
And the urge to make a pie is almost overwhelming...
Just wait until you see what we have planned for Christmas!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Dammit Janet!
Okay...I rarely, if ever climb up on a political soapbox...but this has really got me steamed!
Flipping through the morning news shows during the daily 'brushing of the teeth/painting of the face' rituals...and see star of stage and screen Susan Sarandon being interviewed on some red carpet or another.
I've enjoyed her work over the years...not one of my favorites, but an actor that I can generally count on for quality work in quality films, etc. So I paused...time for flossing...
And the interviewer asks her what her opinion is of VP candidate Sarah Palin.
Had I not had a mouthful of floss, I probably would have changed the channel at this point. I mean, really -- who gives a flying fig what Susan Sarandon or any 'celebrity' for that matter thinks of the candidates?
I much prefer to do my research and form my own opinions -- and would encourage anyone to do the same...
But I digress...
Susan Sarandon then said (and apologies if I've gotten a word or two wrong here...but it's darn close) "Well, Jesus was a community worker and Pontius Pilate was a governor...and I think that sums it up."
Are you kidding me?
Did Susan Sarandon just compare Barack Obama to JESUS? And Sarah Palin to the man who ordered his crucifiction??
I almost choked on my dental floss!
Now I don't care what your political views and opinions are...really...I've got friends on both sides of the debate.
But come on!
Even the interviewer seemed flummoxed!
I can't even imagine that Barack Obama would be pleased at this obviously idiotic remark -- can you see the posters: A Vote for Obama is a Vote for Jesus!
Yeah, right.
But what really gets me...aside from her asinine remark, is that it will probably be replayed over and over on television...and that many people will blindly go along with what she said because she is a celebrity.
Flipping through the morning news shows during the daily 'brushing of the teeth/painting of the face' rituals...and see star of stage and screen Susan Sarandon being interviewed on some red carpet or another.
I've enjoyed her work over the years...not one of my favorites, but an actor that I can generally count on for quality work in quality films, etc. So I paused...time for flossing...
And the interviewer asks her what her opinion is of VP candidate Sarah Palin.
Had I not had a mouthful of floss, I probably would have changed the channel at this point. I mean, really -- who gives a flying fig what Susan Sarandon or any 'celebrity' for that matter thinks of the candidates?
I much prefer to do my research and form my own opinions -- and would encourage anyone to do the same...
But I digress...
Susan Sarandon then said (and apologies if I've gotten a word or two wrong here...but it's darn close) "Well, Jesus was a community worker and Pontius Pilate was a governor...and I think that sums it up."
Are you kidding me?
Did Susan Sarandon just compare Barack Obama to JESUS? And Sarah Palin to the man who ordered his crucifiction??
I almost choked on my dental floss!
Now I don't care what your political views and opinions are...really...I've got friends on both sides of the debate.
But come on!
Even the interviewer seemed flummoxed!
I can't even imagine that Barack Obama would be pleased at this obviously idiotic remark -- can you see the posters: A Vote for Obama is a Vote for Jesus!
Yeah, right.
But what really gets me...aside from her asinine remark, is that it will probably be replayed over and over on television...and that many people will blindly go along with what she said because she is a celebrity.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Beware New TV Shows and Pilots...the Kiss of Death is in the House!
This is it -- in the world of television, this is premiere week -- the week when re-runs (hopefully!) go away and brand-spanking-new TV shows are here.
I usually have one or two shows that I'm looking forward to viewing -- and usually I'd be talking about them...but not this year.
You see, I have come to a conclusion -- however un-scientific: I am the Kiss of Death to any new TV show that hopes to exist beyond three episodes.
It's true.
I don't watch a ton of television -- mostly because television doesn't cater to my often perceived as unusual interests. But every now and again, a new show will capture my imagination...
Like...
"The Dresden Files"
"New Amsterdam"
"Blood Ties"
Not heard of these shows? I'm not surprised...because they are GONE. There but briefly ... literary, dare I say thought-provoking television! A bit of fantasy...a touch of the superhero...even a bit of the goth.
But the biggest thing they have in common is that I enjoyed them. Couldn't even tell you when they were "really" on...as I TIVO anything I'm vaguely interested in...
But, as soon as I publicly express interest in them...GONE!
As soon as I start recommending them to friends and acquaintances? GONE.
I could name a dozen other shows that have met the "Laura Likes it Kiss of Death" fate...but I won't...
And there are even a few shows this fall that I'm looking forward to...but you won't hear me mention them until at LEAST half way through the season...don't want to jinx them too early...
Oh, if you're dying to know, shoot me an email... but don't say I didn't warn you!
I usually have one or two shows that I'm looking forward to viewing -- and usually I'd be talking about them...but not this year.
You see, I have come to a conclusion -- however un-scientific: I am the Kiss of Death to any new TV show that hopes to exist beyond three episodes.
It's true.
I don't watch a ton of television -- mostly because television doesn't cater to my often perceived as unusual interests. But every now and again, a new show will capture my imagination...
Like...
"The Dresden Files"
"New Amsterdam"
"Blood Ties"
Not heard of these shows? I'm not surprised...because they are GONE. There but briefly ... literary, dare I say thought-provoking television! A bit of fantasy...a touch of the superhero...even a bit of the goth.
But the biggest thing they have in common is that I enjoyed them. Couldn't even tell you when they were "really" on...as I TIVO anything I'm vaguely interested in...
But, as soon as I publicly express interest in them...GONE!
As soon as I start recommending them to friends and acquaintances? GONE.
I could name a dozen other shows that have met the "Laura Likes it Kiss of Death" fate...but I won't...
And there are even a few shows this fall that I'm looking forward to...but you won't hear me mention them until at LEAST half way through the season...don't want to jinx them too early...
Oh, if you're dying to know, shoot me an email... but don't say I didn't warn you!
Friday, September 12, 2008
...a problem I didn't even know I had!
Don't you just love when companies solve non-existent problems?
My current favorite is for a new front loading washing machine. You've probably seen the TV commercial -- a poor woman being CHASED by an enormous ball of clothes -- SIX MONTHS worth of laundry that she hasn't done!
It's overwhelming! Oh the humanity! She tries to hide her children!
The solution?
She should buy this fancy new washing machine -- it will solve her problem because it allows the owner to "pre-load" six months worth of laundry detergent into it.
Yes!
Clearly THIS is clearly the biggest issue facing folks doing laundry -- the ever-so-difficult task of pouring the DETERGENT into the MACHINE!
The company must have done massive research -- probably paid hundreds of thousands of dollars -- to a research firm that came back to them with a report like this:
"Last year more than 10,000 men and women with clothes cleaning responsibilities reported that issues with pouring the detergent into the machine was creating an obstacle to getting laundry done."
"Laundry detergent spillage-based accidents accounted for more than 500 slip and fall emergency room visits!"
"Five out of every ten stay-at-home mom's reported shoulder pain directly related to lifting laundry detergent bottles!"
Silliness...pure silliness!
I'd buy a new washer for really only ONE reason -- my current one has died and is beyond repair.
Once the memorial service was complete, I -- like most folks in need of a washer -- would probably be interested in capacity, energy efficiency, water usage, and warranty.
Maybe, if I'm REALLY feeling adventurous, a couple of fancy 'cycles' that I didn't have before?
But clearly this company believes that the most important part of the decision will be how many months of detergent I can pre-load into it!
NEW Coke anyone?
My current favorite is for a new front loading washing machine. You've probably seen the TV commercial -- a poor woman being CHASED by an enormous ball of clothes -- SIX MONTHS worth of laundry that she hasn't done!
It's overwhelming! Oh the humanity! She tries to hide her children!
The solution?
She should buy this fancy new washing machine -- it will solve her problem because it allows the owner to "pre-load" six months worth of laundry detergent into it.
Yes!
Clearly THIS is clearly the biggest issue facing folks doing laundry -- the ever-so-difficult task of pouring the DETERGENT into the MACHINE!
The company must have done massive research -- probably paid hundreds of thousands of dollars -- to a research firm that came back to them with a report like this:
"Last year more than 10,000 men and women with clothes cleaning responsibilities reported that issues with pouring the detergent into the machine was creating an obstacle to getting laundry done."
"Laundry detergent spillage-based accidents accounted for more than 500 slip and fall emergency room visits!"
"Five out of every ten stay-at-home mom's reported shoulder pain directly related to lifting laundry detergent bottles!"
Silliness...pure silliness!
I'd buy a new washer for really only ONE reason -- my current one has died and is beyond repair.
Once the memorial service was complete, I -- like most folks in need of a washer -- would probably be interested in capacity, energy efficiency, water usage, and warranty.
Maybe, if I'm REALLY feeling adventurous, a couple of fancy 'cycles' that I didn't have before?
But clearly this company believes that the most important part of the decision will be how many months of detergent I can pre-load into it!
NEW Coke anyone?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
It's a Bird! It's a Plane!
I have always had an affinity...some would say an obsession with the Man of Steel -- Superman!
Other super heroes may come and go in popularity, but for me, Superman is, well, the MAN! I collect super memorabilia, live for new comic books and get unnaturally excited by new TV series and new movies.
I'm not alone -- there are many of us, and we even count Jerry Seinfeld and Shaq among our fellow devotees.
Number one question I am asked by people -- particularly Laura-newcomers -- is "what's with the Superman thing?" It must seem odd to folks that a Masterpiece Theatre aficionado with an art history minor and an unholy love of Miss America would also be a Superman gal...but I am.
So here's the answer: It all goes back to my Dad.
When I was very young, my Dad took me to a traveling arena show called "Disney on Parade" -- basically a predecessor to "Disney on Ice" with all the Disney characters performing in a traveling show. I must have been about 7 years old.
Frankly the show didn't do too much for me...until the second act...when Peter Pan actually flew into the arena...I was mesmerized!
He could fly!
To hear my Dad tell the story, I became obsessed with flight...ran around the house jumping off things (which made him nervous, to say the least). I think it was an attempt to get me to stop playing Peter Pan that first brought Superman into our lives.
I mean, let's be honest...Pan was cool...but mostly flew around not accomplishing too much.
I remember the day he first brought home a Superman comic for me -- it wasn't a "real" comic, it was a promotional comic promoting "Superfriends" -- a Saturday morning cartoon show that his TV station was soon to begin airing.
But I was drawn immediately to Superman -- he could fly! And he helped people! And frankly, there was NO ONE with more talent among the Superfriends:
Wonder woman needed the invisible (lame!) plane...Aquaman was NO HELP outside of the ocean -- and if you took the gadgetry away from Batman, all you had left was an obnoxious rich guy.
Superman was the REAL DEAL.
He appealed to me on so many levels -- strange visitor from another planet (which was how I felt most of the time!) Dual identity -- mild-mannered reporter by day! And he could always save the day!
But it was the Christopher Reeve film two years later that really captured my imagination.
I remember seeing the trailer before a Disney film:
The John Williams score...and then the words flying across the screen:
YOU
WILL
BELIEVE
A
MAN
CAN
FLY!
When the film opened...no one other than Dad would go with me... and when Superman first took off over Metropolis, I recall thinking that nothing could ever be better than this!
Me...and my Dad...and Superman!
We loved it so much, we stayed for the second show!
And a monster...er...FAN...was born!
Thirty years later I still enjoy my love affair with Superman -- still obsessed with all things Kryptonian.
And I still can't think of Superman or crack open a comic, without thinking of me and my Dad...sitting in the dark theatre...believing a man could fly...
Other super heroes may come and go in popularity, but for me, Superman is, well, the MAN! I collect super memorabilia, live for new comic books and get unnaturally excited by new TV series and new movies.
I'm not alone -- there are many of us, and we even count Jerry Seinfeld and Shaq among our fellow devotees.
Number one question I am asked by people -- particularly Laura-newcomers -- is "what's with the Superman thing?" It must seem odd to folks that a Masterpiece Theatre aficionado with an art history minor and an unholy love of Miss America would also be a Superman gal...but I am.
So here's the answer: It all goes back to my Dad.
When I was very young, my Dad took me to a traveling arena show called "Disney on Parade" -- basically a predecessor to "Disney on Ice" with all the Disney characters performing in a traveling show. I must have been about 7 years old.
Frankly the show didn't do too much for me...until the second act...when Peter Pan actually flew into the arena...I was mesmerized!
He could fly!
To hear my Dad tell the story, I became obsessed with flight...ran around the house jumping off things (which made him nervous, to say the least). I think it was an attempt to get me to stop playing Peter Pan that first brought Superman into our lives.
I mean, let's be honest...Pan was cool...but mostly flew around not accomplishing too much.
I remember the day he first brought home a Superman comic for me -- it wasn't a "real" comic, it was a promotional comic promoting "Superfriends" -- a Saturday morning cartoon show that his TV station was soon to begin airing.
But I was drawn immediately to Superman -- he could fly! And he helped people! And frankly, there was NO ONE with more talent among the Superfriends:
Wonder woman needed the invisible (lame!) plane...Aquaman was NO HELP outside of the ocean -- and if you took the gadgetry away from Batman, all you had left was an obnoxious rich guy.
Superman was the REAL DEAL.
He appealed to me on so many levels -- strange visitor from another planet (which was how I felt most of the time!) Dual identity -- mild-mannered reporter by day! And he could always save the day!
But it was the Christopher Reeve film two years later that really captured my imagination.
I remember seeing the trailer before a Disney film:
The John Williams score...and then the words flying across the screen:
YOU
WILL
BELIEVE
A
MAN
CAN
FLY!
When the film opened...no one other than Dad would go with me... and when Superman first took off over Metropolis, I recall thinking that nothing could ever be better than this!
Me...and my Dad...and Superman!
We loved it so much, we stayed for the second show!
And a monster...er...FAN...was born!
Thirty years later I still enjoy my love affair with Superman -- still obsessed with all things Kryptonian.
And I still can't think of Superman or crack open a comic, without thinking of me and my Dad...sitting in the dark theatre...believing a man could fly...
Friday, August 1, 2008
...and I lived to tell about it!
Last Friday, the UNTHINKABLE happened!
I went an entire day without my Blackberry!
AND it was a day that I was on the road -- meaning six hours in the car; four hours in various meetings -- and no cell phone! No email!
The thing was dead. Dead I tell you!
And I didn't realize it until I was half-way to Philadelphia.
After the initial panic -- I mean, I did have three other electronic gadgets in the car with me -- a GPS unit, my Amazon Kindle, and my iPod -- not to mention my laptop -- I relaxed a bit.
By "a bit" I mean about 30 seconds.
And then I started smelling burnt toast!
(Side note for the uninitiated to "Stocker-isms" -- smelling burnt toast is a sign of a person having a stroke!)
By Lancaster I had taken the thing apart -- yes! -- it is possible to drive and take apart your Blackberry at the same time! Safely!
I did a hard re-start -- NOTHING!
By Morgantown I was in a cold sweat -- no phone! What if the car died? What if I got a flat tire? Could I rely on my "looks" to get someone to pull over and help me?
By the time I got to my client in King of Prussia I could barely see straight. My hands were actually shaking and I was in a cold sweat... what if the office needed me? What if another client was in distress?
I mean, come on! I had been incommunicado for almost 1 and 1/2 hours!
I remember NOTHING about the actual client meeting.
I actually had to ask my client if there was a phone I could use to call into the office! Which then brought up another issue -- I had to stop and think -- really think -- about what the office number was? I have it on speed-dial on the Blackberry!
And worse?
When I called into the office to share my distress -- no one really seemed concerned!
So it was off to Allentown for the second meeting of the day.
I honestly think I would have had a complete meltdown if not for the soothing voice of my Garmin Nuvi GPS telling me to "turn left" and "turn right."
After the second meeting I flew back to the office -- arriving about 4:30. Now normally, I would have just gone straight home at that point in the day...but I was so convinced that my professional world was burning down around me that I needed to stop in and read email -- allay the fears of clients who wouldn't have been able to reach me during this crisis.
Co-workers looked startled to see me!
I raced to hook up my laptop and access the network -- 187 emails in my inbox!
Okay -- half were spam!
And the other half were important -- but not life-altering.
Everyone was fine.
Most people, when I replied, explaining the delay in my reply, hadn't even noticed!
Sigh...
Needless to say, I got a new battery on Saturday!
My name is Laura...and I am a techno-junkie...
I went an entire day without my Blackberry!
AND it was a day that I was on the road -- meaning six hours in the car; four hours in various meetings -- and no cell phone! No email!
The thing was dead. Dead I tell you!
And I didn't realize it until I was half-way to Philadelphia.
After the initial panic -- I mean, I did have three other electronic gadgets in the car with me -- a GPS unit, my Amazon Kindle, and my iPod -- not to mention my laptop -- I relaxed a bit.
By "a bit" I mean about 30 seconds.
And then I started smelling burnt toast!
(Side note for the uninitiated to "Stocker-isms" -- smelling burnt toast is a sign of a person having a stroke!)
By Lancaster I had taken the thing apart -- yes! -- it is possible to drive and take apart your Blackberry at the same time! Safely!
I did a hard re-start -- NOTHING!
By Morgantown I was in a cold sweat -- no phone! What if the car died? What if I got a flat tire? Could I rely on my "looks" to get someone to pull over and help me?
By the time I got to my client in King of Prussia I could barely see straight. My hands were actually shaking and I was in a cold sweat... what if the office needed me? What if another client was in distress?
I mean, come on! I had been incommunicado for almost 1 and 1/2 hours!
I remember NOTHING about the actual client meeting.
I actually had to ask my client if there was a phone I could use to call into the office! Which then brought up another issue -- I had to stop and think -- really think -- about what the office number was? I have it on speed-dial on the Blackberry!
And worse?
When I called into the office to share my distress -- no one really seemed concerned!
So it was off to Allentown for the second meeting of the day.
I honestly think I would have had a complete meltdown if not for the soothing voice of my Garmin Nuvi GPS telling me to "turn left" and "turn right."
After the second meeting I flew back to the office -- arriving about 4:30. Now normally, I would have just gone straight home at that point in the day...but I was so convinced that my professional world was burning down around me that I needed to stop in and read email -- allay the fears of clients who wouldn't have been able to reach me during this crisis.
Co-workers looked startled to see me!
I raced to hook up my laptop and access the network -- 187 emails in my inbox!
Okay -- half were spam!
And the other half were important -- but not life-altering.
Everyone was fine.
Most people, when I replied, explaining the delay in my reply, hadn't even noticed!
Needless to say, I got a new battery on Saturday!
My name is Laura...and I am a techno-junkie...
Friday, July 18, 2008
Always and ForNever!
I just despise the words "always" and "never."
Actually, I should clarify...I hate the constant MISUSE of the words "always" and "never."
It usually goes something like this:
"You ALWAYS forget to take out the trash!"
"I can NEVER find my car keys!"
Now, if the person in question, has, without a doubt, ALWAYS forgotten to take out the trash, then I have no problem with the usage.
al·ways
[awl-weyz, -weez] –adverb
1. every time; on every occasion; without exception
nev·er
[nev-er] –adverb
1. not ever; at no time
But, folks rarely use the words as intended. And that's what makes me nuts.
We have somehow begun using "always" and "never" to mean "sometimes."
Now clearly, "sometimes" does not have the drama quotient of "always" or "never" -- consider how, well DULL and wishy washy the following phrases now sound:
"You sometimes forget to take out the trash."
"I sometimes can't find my car keys."
And while I'm on a roll...I'd also like to take back the word "awesome."
It makes me slightly crazy to hear people using the word "awesome" to describe things that are, well, clearly less than awesome:
"Thank you so much for your help -- that was awesome!"
Now, if the "help" provided was truly earth-shattering, life-affirming or otherwise inspiring of 'awe', I have no issues.
But let's be truthful here -- the Grand Canyon is awesome. The miracle of birth is awesome.
Getting someone a cup of coffee? A very nice thing to do, but, let's face it -- NOT awesome.
Perhaps because there are so few truly awesome moments in life, we feel the need to elevate the 'nice but ordinary?'
Oh well...I would NEVER do that -- I guess because I'm ALWAYS right!
(tee hee)
Actually, I should clarify...I hate the constant MISUSE of the words "always" and "never."
It usually goes something like this:
"You ALWAYS forget to take out the trash!"
"I can NEVER find my car keys!"
Now, if the person in question, has, without a doubt, ALWAYS forgotten to take out the trash, then I have no problem with the usage.
al·ways
[awl-weyz, -weez] –adverb
1. every time; on every occasion; without exception
nev·er
[nev-er] –adverb
1. not ever; at no time
But, folks rarely use the words as intended. And that's what makes me nuts.
We have somehow begun using "always" and "never" to mean "sometimes."
Now clearly, "sometimes" does not have the drama quotient of "always" or "never" -- consider how, well DULL and wishy washy the following phrases now sound:
"You sometimes forget to take out the trash."
"I sometimes can't find my car keys."
And while I'm on a roll...I'd also like to take back the word "awesome."
It makes me slightly crazy to hear people using the word "awesome" to describe things that are, well, clearly less than awesome:
"Thank you so much for your help -- that was awesome!"
Now, if the "help" provided was truly earth-shattering, life-affirming or otherwise inspiring of 'awe', I have no issues.
But let's be truthful here -- the Grand Canyon is awesome. The miracle of birth is awesome.
Getting someone a cup of coffee? A very nice thing to do, but, let's face it -- NOT awesome.
Perhaps because there are so few truly awesome moments in life, we feel the need to elevate the 'nice but ordinary?'
Oh well...I would NEVER do that -- I guess because I'm ALWAYS right!
(tee hee)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Go ahead -- call me an @$$ hole one more time...
Saw a great film whilst on vacation -- Hancock -- starring Will Smith.
Love, love, LOVED it!
Now, I should preface this by saying that I am definitely pre-disposed to enjoy movies in the 'superhero' genre -- with Superman always being a perennial favorite.
But what I liked most about Hancock was that Will Smith's character was really an "anti-superhero" -- he hated his abilities and seemed to go out of his way to annoy the people he was rescuing...along with destroying their personal property!
But it all changes when he saves the life of a Public Relations pro -- who then decides to help Hancock change his image.
Having been a PR pro myself in a past life, the idea of a superhero teaming up with someone like me had real appeal.
There are also several big twists and turns in the film -- the biggest of which I never, ever saw coming -- and I LOVE that sort of movie!
So, go go go!
Now I can't WAIT for The Dark Knight -- Hancock just whetted my appetite!
Love, love, LOVED it!
Now, I should preface this by saying that I am definitely pre-disposed to enjoy movies in the 'superhero' genre -- with Superman always being a perennial favorite.
But what I liked most about Hancock was that Will Smith's character was really an "anti-superhero" -- he hated his abilities and seemed to go out of his way to annoy the people he was rescuing...along with destroying their personal property!
But it all changes when he saves the life of a Public Relations pro -- who then decides to help Hancock change his image.
Having been a PR pro myself in a past life, the idea of a superhero teaming up with someone like me had real appeal.
There are also several big twists and turns in the film -- the biggest of which I never, ever saw coming -- and I LOVE that sort of movie!
So, go go go!
Now I can't WAIT for The Dark Knight -- Hancock just whetted my appetite!
Everybody was kung foo fighting!
Just back from a glorious week at the shore -- beautiful South Jersey!
You know that relaxed in the car feeling...listening to some tunes on the radio. Hubby found a neat oldies station -- mostly 70's and 80's music...
When all of a sudden...a song I hadn't heard in least 20 years...
"Oh oh oh oh"
(imagine Chinese restaurant musak)
"Oh oh oh oh"
Wait for it...
"Everybody was Kung foo fighting!"
Immediate flash back to my childhood playroom and my sister and the neighbor girl choreographing a musical dance/baton number to this little ditty.
Worse -- I can still picture the choreography...the two of them entering from opposite sides of the room, geisha like, and then bowing to each other in the middle...before leaping into a series of hitch kicks with swinging batons!
And then the INEVITABLE 'dings' in the dropped ceiling -- which made my father NUTS!
My contribution to this?
Easy -- I'm the one who showed them how to flip the ceiling tiles so that the "dings" would no longer show.
You know that relaxed in the car feeling...listening to some tunes on the radio. Hubby found a neat oldies station -- mostly 70's and 80's music...
When all of a sudden...a song I hadn't heard in least 20 years...
"Oh oh oh oh"
(imagine Chinese restaurant musak)
"Oh oh oh oh"
Wait for it...
"Everybody was Kung foo fighting!"
Immediate flash back to my childhood playroom and my sister and the neighbor girl choreographing a musical dance/baton number to this little ditty.
Worse -- I can still picture the choreography...the two of them entering from opposite sides of the room, geisha like, and then bowing to each other in the middle...before leaping into a series of hitch kicks with swinging batons!
And then the INEVITABLE 'dings' in the dropped ceiling -- which made my father NUTS!
My contribution to this?
Easy -- I'm the one who showed them how to flip the ceiling tiles so that the "dings" would no longer show.
Monday, June 30, 2008
I wanted to see if it would fit!
My sister reminded me this morning of an incident from my early years that I had completely forgotten -- the time I got my elbow stuck in a jar of peanut butter.
Yes -- you read that correctly -- elbow stuck in a jar of peanut butter.
I must have been about 6 years old or so...and we were visiting our beloved Granny in Ohio. I remember loving to visit her -- aside from the fact that she would let us play with her make-up and jewelry ("Darlings - be beautiful -- you never know who's watching!") -- she would turn us loose in the kitchen and we'd play for hours with bottles and containers -- I remember thinking of the big bottle of vinegar as the "Dad" and the small bottle of vanilla extract -- as, well, ME...
But, I digress...
So my sister and I were in her kitchen playing, goofing around as young girls are prone to do, and it occured to me that the opening of the peanut butter jar looked about the same size as my (then quite small) elbow. So I tried it out.
And it fit!
Really!
You see where this is going -- once in, my elbow was STUCK. I literally had a jar of peanut butter stuck on my bent elbow. And this was the early 70's...when peanut butter came in a glass jar.
My sister pulled at it...I tried popping it off...nothing. It was good and stuck -- suction is an amazing thing!
And then, in came Granny -- who only had one question -- "how did you get your elbow stuck in a jar of peanut butter?"
And in the now immortal words of a six-year-old, I told her -- "I wanted to see if it would fit."
Made perfect sense at the time. I mean, I was there, the peanut butter was there -- and I had an audience -- why not see if it would fit??
So Granny wrapped my arm in a towel and took me outside where she smashed the glass to get it off my elbow.
No harm...no foul...no blood even.
And no one was in the least upset -- not me, not my sister (who just thought it was about the funniest thing she'd ever seen) -- and certainly not Granny.
It never occured to us to sue the Peter Pan Peanut Butter company...or to punish me...it just was what is was -- a six-year-old with a jar of peanut butter stuck on her elbow.
My sister's reminder this morning got me to thinking -- what ever happened to young girl who saw a jar of peanut butter and her elbow and thought "why not?"
What would you "try" if you had no fear?
Yes -- you read that correctly -- elbow stuck in a jar of peanut butter.
I must have been about 6 years old or so...and we were visiting our beloved Granny in Ohio. I remember loving to visit her -- aside from the fact that she would let us play with her make-up and jewelry ("Darlings - be beautiful -- you never know who's watching!") -- she would turn us loose in the kitchen and we'd play for hours with bottles and containers -- I remember thinking of the big bottle of vinegar as the "Dad" and the small bottle of vanilla extract -- as, well, ME...
But, I digress...
So my sister and I were in her kitchen playing, goofing around as young girls are prone to do, and it occured to me that the opening of the peanut butter jar looked about the same size as my (then quite small) elbow. So I tried it out.
And it fit!
Really!
You see where this is going -- once in, my elbow was STUCK. I literally had a jar of peanut butter stuck on my bent elbow. And this was the early 70's...when peanut butter came in a glass jar.
My sister pulled at it...I tried popping it off...nothing. It was good and stuck -- suction is an amazing thing!
And then, in came Granny -- who only had one question -- "how did you get your elbow stuck in a jar of peanut butter?"
And in the now immortal words of a six-year-old, I told her -- "I wanted to see if it would fit."
Made perfect sense at the time. I mean, I was there, the peanut butter was there -- and I had an audience -- why not see if it would fit??
So Granny wrapped my arm in a towel and took me outside where she smashed the glass to get it off my elbow.
No harm...no foul...no blood even.
And no one was in the least upset -- not me, not my sister (who just thought it was about the funniest thing she'd ever seen) -- and certainly not Granny.
It never occured to us to sue the Peter Pan Peanut Butter company...or to punish me...it just was what is was -- a six-year-old with a jar of peanut butter stuck on her elbow.
My sister's reminder this morning got me to thinking -- what ever happened to young girl who saw a jar of peanut butter and her elbow and thought "why not?"
What would you "try" if you had no fear?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
You say it's your birthday? It's my birthday too!
I love my birthday!
I really do.
And it's not about presents -- althought I certainly love getting presents. And it's not about being the center of attention -- although those who know me well, know that that's not an issue for me either.
It's about memories. And looking foward.
As a child, my parents always made a big deal out of our birthdays. My Mom would make these incredible cakes -- I can recall Barbie cakes and fancy frosting, a cake that looked like a construction site with matchbox cars -- even a carousel cake that my father set on fire!
We were not much for actual parties -- but there was always some kind of activity -- bowling, miniature golf, a Phillies game -- and it was always fun.
The older I get, the less important the stuff has become -- and the importance has shifted to simply having a nice day and relaxing a bit. Since I've been married, our trip to the shore has often coincided with my birthday -- which is nice and relaxing. And my husband always manages to surprise me.
The only downside to this whole birthday thing is the 'getting older' part -- it's difficult sometimes to acknowledge that I'm not as young as I used to be... but I can honestly say that I wouldn't want to go back.
Not that it was ever an option.
Happy Birthday to me!
I really do.
And it's not about presents -- althought I certainly love getting presents. And it's not about being the center of attention -- although those who know me well, know that that's not an issue for me either.
It's about memories. And looking foward.
As a child, my parents always made a big deal out of our birthdays. My Mom would make these incredible cakes -- I can recall Barbie cakes and fancy frosting, a cake that looked like a construction site with matchbox cars -- even a carousel cake that my father set on fire!
We were not much for actual parties -- but there was always some kind of activity -- bowling, miniature golf, a Phillies game -- and it was always fun.
The older I get, the less important the stuff has become -- and the importance has shifted to simply having a nice day and relaxing a bit. Since I've been married, our trip to the shore has often coincided with my birthday -- which is nice and relaxing. And my husband always manages to surprise me.
The only downside to this whole birthday thing is the 'getting older' part -- it's difficult sometimes to acknowledge that I'm not as young as I used to be... but I can honestly say that I wouldn't want to go back.
Not that it was ever an option.
Happy Birthday to me!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Oddities that make me smile
We all have them -- those little things -- oddities, if you will, that please us in some truly unique way.
For example -- I get some sort of tremendous pleasure from opening a new jar of peanut butter and being the first person to put a knife into the virgin jar. I don't know why this is -- it just is. It gets even better -- I don't even really LIKE peanut butter. Yet, I get truly giddy each time I realize that I'm opening the new jar.
You might wonder if I get the same satisfaction from opening, say, a new jar of jelly...nope. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. It's just a jar of jelly. Nothing special. No brief moment of happiness. And I've tested it with other spreadables as well -- butter, frosting, etc. Not even the briefest twinge of excitement....it is completely centered around peanut butter -- which I don't eat.
Maybe it's a comfort thing?
But I think we all have these little "things" that please us in a weird not-able-to-be-defined way.
Another one for me is the "pull through" -- you know, when you get into a parking and lot, pull into a parking space and realize that you can "pull through" to the facing parking space (and not have to back out of the space). Again -- a little thing that pleases me tremendously.
And tiny paper umbrellas -- for some reason, I just LOVE tiny paper umbrellas -- whether in a drink or a fancy dessert -- ANYTHING tastes better with a tiny paper umbrella in it. And it's usually a surprise -- "oh! -- my spumoni has a tiny paper umbrella in it" -- a tiny paper umbrella can make an entire meal better.
And I have no idea why.
May your day be filled with fresh jars of peanut butter, multiple pulls through and tiny paper umbrellas!
Or whatever gives YOU that unexpected thrill.
For example -- I get some sort of tremendous pleasure from opening a new jar of peanut butter and being the first person to put a knife into the virgin jar. I don't know why this is -- it just is. It gets even better -- I don't even really LIKE peanut butter. Yet, I get truly giddy each time I realize that I'm opening the new jar.
You might wonder if I get the same satisfaction from opening, say, a new jar of jelly...nope. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. It's just a jar of jelly. Nothing special. No brief moment of happiness. And I've tested it with other spreadables as well -- butter, frosting, etc. Not even the briefest twinge of excitement....it is completely centered around peanut butter -- which I don't eat.
Maybe it's a comfort thing?
But I think we all have these little "things" that please us in a weird not-able-to-be-defined way.
Another one for me is the "pull through" -- you know, when you get into a parking and lot, pull into a parking space and realize that you can "pull through" to the facing parking space (and not have to back out of the space). Again -- a little thing that pleases me tremendously.
And tiny paper umbrellas -- for some reason, I just LOVE tiny paper umbrellas -- whether in a drink or a fancy dessert -- ANYTHING tastes better with a tiny paper umbrella in it. And it's usually a surprise -- "oh! -- my spumoni has a tiny paper umbrella in it" -- a tiny paper umbrella can make an entire meal better.
And I have no idea why.
May your day be filled with fresh jars of peanut butter, multiple pulls through and tiny paper umbrellas!
Or whatever gives YOU that unexpected thrill.
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