Big Questions About the Universe Answered Here

Mr. Sweetie has been painting the parlor in anticipation of our new furniture (which arrives on TUESDAY! I can't wait!). This evening, thanks to his iPod playlist we now know:

There is such a thing as too much Edith Piaf.

Dog In The Manger

Perhaps you've heard the phrase "dog in the manger." It's derogatory, arising from a fable in which a dog enters a barn, but can't eat the hay. Even though he can't eat it, he won't give it up to the barn animals who would eat it. In some versions, the dog pees on the hay so no one can eat it.

Obviously, Aesop never met Bermondsey. Ever since the snow melted and the grass began to turn green, a walk around the neighborhood is like a trip to the world's longest salad bar. Bermondsey eats grass. There are some particular spots--under a picket fence, along a railroad tie retaining wall--where the grass is rarely cut because the mower can't reach. These are his favorite spots to stop and gnaw.

The design flaw is obvious immediately. Dog teeth just are not made to pluck grass, much less chew it. Yet he patiently works the blades over until he gets something in his mouth.

Better still, however, is when we give the guinea pig her daily hay. I opened a new bag of hay today, and after filling the hay rack, I put the rest into a large storage bin to keep it out of reach of varmints. Bermondsey was up on his hind legs immediately, with his nose in the piles and piles of yummy hay, and he grabbed what he could before the lid went back on. Then he nosed around for what fell out of the guinea pig cage.

It's also inconvenient, because now he won't potty in the yard anymore--because he doesn't want to foul his salad bowl, I guess.

You Shall Know Them By Their Color!

Hello, I am the Mistress of All Evil, and I am a Disney trading pin addict.

(Hello, Mi-mumble mumble what did she say her name was, can you have that as a name?)

Sadly, this is a rapidly progressing disease, and I seem to have very few defenses for it. I have drawn some lines, and tend to focus on a few of the more classic characters: Sleeping Beauty, Pooh, Belle.

But I'm particularly fond of the Bad Girls:

Ursula the Sea Witch from Little Mermaid;




the Evil Queen from Snow White,




and (of course) the original Mistress of All Evil, Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.




















The junior auxiliary to the Bad Girls are the Not Bad Just Drawn That Way Corps: Megara from Hercules, and Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit.





All of them (except for Ursula) are just dead sexy: beautiful, lean, elongated, elegant and dangerous. Ursula doesn't have the looks, but she's got a GREAT song and she pushes all the diva buttons, so she's obviously got to be included. Plus, she uses her magic for evil and turns into the lean, elongated and dangerous Vanessa in order to make the Prince marry her instead of the Little Mermaid.

Anyway, they are all the things I am not but would like to have a bit more of. I'm afraid I'm genetically incapable of carved cheekbones and high arched eyebrows. I'm not exactly short, but I'm no more than average height, and I'm well on the way to being the shortest person in my family. I'm in no way elongated: even during a brief period of being seriously underweight, I was far to curvy to carry off that leggy lean look. Most of all, I'm not direct and straightforward the way they are: They know what they want, and they don't hesitate to get it.

However, there is one other thing they all have in common: they all wear purple. The baddest of them wear purple and black. It's like there's color theory in Disney movies: the ones who are good wear blue and pink and yellow, and the Bad Girls are in purple. Even Meg, who only starts out bad against her will and ends up good, wears lavender.

So, short curvy round-faced nice old me--purple is my favorite color!

PMS = Punish Men Severely?

The husband of a friend of mine made this acronym--that PMS stands for Punish Men Severely. Of course, that's not true, because then it would be all about the guys, when we all know it's all about...ME.

Which is to say that at least there is a medical explanation about why I looked into my closet today and found ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to wear. So, of course, I had to put something on to wear for just long enough for me to go buy something new. It is, in fact, a medical expense that ought to be covered as a drug benefit--do not laugh: retail therapy will become recognized as a non-experimental regimen which alleviates many of the symptoms of PMS.

Along with chocolate--thank goodness we had extra Easter candy around this week--and the rum and diet Cokes (caffeine free) that I was craving all week. At least there is a medical explanation for my unassuageable cravings.

So, what does PMS stand for? Try these:

Pour Me S'moretequila (slur these together--it's how it sounds anyway)
Purchase More Shoes
Provide Many Snacks
Prolonged Money Spending

Operators are standing by to take your suggestions and to tally your preferences. As they say in Chicago: Vote Early And Often!

Off Leash and Loving It

We finally found the St. Paul off-leash dog park, and boy is Bermondsey having a good time! All kinds of dogs in a huge park with hills and trees and puddles and trails and big dogs and little dogs and the whole thing is just so great!

There is definitely some shepherding in his genetic makeup, as he loves to run in huge curves back and forth, up and down hills, his legs stretching full length and his fur blown back from the speed. He's practically generating G forces.

He likes other dogs, a great deal, but he especially likes the big dogs. He can be slightly obnoxious because he wants them to go running with him--I guess he likes the challenge of keeping up. He was absolutely blissed out yesterday when a pair of golden retrievers showed up and began fetching a tennis ball with their owner. Bermondsey had no interest in the ball itself, he just wanted to run.

Sadly, it appears that most large dogs are either congenitally even tempered, or have been well trained--very few of them really want to just take off. Occasionally one will run for a while, but we've found Bermondsey gets really good reactions from the dogs that are close to his size. They don't run to exhaustion like he wants to, but they will take off, and then start exploring the trees and all the good doggie smells.

If only they served pizza and peanut butter, I think this would be Doggie Heaven.

Waking Up Is Hard To Do

The kidlets are getting to an age where life is too much fun to give up and go to sleep, but the mornings are REALLY hard to handle when school starts at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m.

This morning, it took both Mr. Sweetie and me to get them rousted. At one point, the Bunny was crawling deeper and deeper into the covers, so Mr. Sweetie picked up a pillow and began to schwapp her with it. A giant Pooh Bear pillow, with which he proceeded to (gently) beat her about the head and ears.

There is so much wrong with that--the Pooh Bear Morning Smackdown!

Excuses, schmexcuses!

Not blogging.

Addicted.

To eBay.

Just step away from the PayPal, and no one will get hurt.

Damn you, Disney Pins!

I Miss The Mouse

Spring is stuggling to establish itself here in the Frozen North. We've had a couple of days with sunshine, when it is possible to walk outside and THEN remember you've forgotten your jacket...and then realize that you don't really need it.

Against south-facing brick walls, spring bulbs are sprouting: some are three and four inches tall already. It's slightly amazing to see that much new green growing.

I miss DisneyWorld.

While we were there, the weather was absolutely perfect--sunny and breezy and incredibly pleasant. The parks were green, green GREEN, with flower beds all abloom. Trees were in leaf, not like the hard little nubbins of buds visible here. I miss all the happy happy people, and being on vacation.

I want to go back. Now.

The kidlets and I had an abortive mission to the zoo today--it actually closes at 4 this time of year, which makes it hard to get there after school lets out at 3. And, as long as we were already driving south, why not just keep going? I mean, it would only be about 2 more days of driving to get there, right? And, wouldn't it be worth it?

What Becomes A Vacation Most?

So, vacation was fabulous. I'm still in denial that I'm back to my real life. Everyone else in the family has gone back to school and work, but I'm still pretending that I'm on vacation. The laundry situation has gotten to the point where I can't ignore THAT any longer, though, so I guess I'm back.

But--what a great trip! Having your bags claimed at the airport and delivered to your room...wonderful. Having a hotel room on Disney property with a view of Cinderella's castle from the window...magical. Being on a prepaid meal plan that requires only to select where and what to eat...convenient and cooking free! Days of sunshine, breeze and 80 degrees, evenings of 65...truly being away from the ordinary. Seeing the tears of happiness in the eyes of the kidlets when they met their favorite characters (Pooh and Sleeping Beauty)...worth every penny.

Calling home for voicemail and hearing there is a snow emergency and knowing that if you were home, you'd be digging out from 8 inches of additional snowfall...priceless!

Vocabulary Test

The Bunny announced yesterday:

"A city is basically an entanglement of streets."

Has she been into the SAT flashcards again?

In Which I Explain Why I Won't Be Posting For A While

Unlike all the bloggers I read regularly, we are not going to Amsterdam. (Is that like a meme now?)

No--we have kidlets who won't be little much longer, so we're going to Disney World.

Because we are romantic, we are staying "on campus" at the Wilderness Lodge. The nice People From Disney will pick up our luggage from the airport, they will transport us to our hotel, and we plan on being waited on hand and foot for eight days.

Except for the plane ride, of course. After all, we live in a one airline town, and even with the captive market, NorthWorst is in bankruptcy. So, I expect that customer service is not going to be high on their To Do List. On the other hand, they could have stopped all flights completely, or simply stuffed us in the overhead bins...or asked the passengers for volunteer pilots. You never know with bankruptcy.

But! It is of no matter! For we are going to the Happiest Place On Earth (tm) where we will be treated kindly and courteously, and large fluffy animals will pose for pictures with us!

To which I say: Whoo! And Hoo!

We leave Florida's sunny clime late next Wednesday. There is no indication on line that there is internet access there, so you'll just have to wait.

Oh, and it can only help our mood to know that it snowed six inches yesterday, and we will be leaving the winter BEHIND!

BWAAAA-HAAA-HA-HAAAA!

Boomer Tunes

Have I bitc..I mean, blogged about this already? I write so many of these in my head before I post them that I can't remember.

Well, if this is familiar, you have permission to skip it.

Kid movies. We like to go see movies as a family, which means we see a lot of kid/family movies. And I am struck by the music. So many animated movies have a soundtrack that was already "classic rock" when I heard the songs the first time. Thin Lizzie, Styx, Eagles, The Monkees--sure, they are sometimes perfomed by new acts, but the songs are fundamentally NOT kid music. It is the music of their parents...or even older than that.

Which makes me think: if they had used similarly old music for the movies of my childhood, we'd all have been singing "Brother, Can You Spare A Dime" and "Hinky Dinky Parlez Vouz."

You Say It's Your Birthday

So, today is my birthday, and the weather turned impossibly sunny and warm--too warm for a jacket. We are actually going to celebrate when Mr. Sweetie comes home, going out for dinner, then cake and presents at home.

So, what did I do for my birthday today?

I returned some votive candle holders and a copper wall hanging to Pier One.

I returned some books to the library.

I returned a movie to Blockbuster, and I returned to Blockbuster because the Bunny had left the newly rented movies at the store.

So--do you see the theme?

Happy Birthday--and many happy returns!

Oscar Bloggerhea

I love watching the Oscars, even though I rarely get to see the movies beforehand. This time, I thought I’d try blogging the telecast, which worked until I got involved and forgot to keep writing. With some editing and additions, here is what I thought about the 2006 Oscar Awards.

First—the red carpet. I had to make dinner and actually be a parent, so I only caught a little bit.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman—Following the trend of becoming blonder for the Oscars. He’s got a deep black outfit, with a white tie. I have no idea whether it’s a good decision sartorially, but in profile, all it does is highlight his enormous belly. It’s a line of bright light curving around his bulk like a crescent moon. Does the ultrasound say it’s going to be a beer keg?

Felicity Huffman—before tonight, the fashionistas predicted she’d do a Swank, and wear something very very girlie—something that announces “yes, I played a man in a movie, but I’ve really got breasts.” She turns up on the red carpet in black Zak Posen, with a décolletage that goes to her waist. There is a huge bell skirt, with a shorter front that hits her mid shin. Not really terribly attractive, and the neckline—which isn’t really there—is not just low, but really disconcertingly wide, showing us that she has a lot of space between her breasts. Inches and inches of space that is just skin and sternum. The giant suspenders of the dress pass for a front, and are plastered across what appear to be non-existent breasts. Actually, I’ve seen some drag queens with that exact look—it’s the illusion of breasts, not the real thing. Which is really sad, as her hair and make-up are really well done and make her look as lovely as I’ve ever seen her.

Amy Adams—What is the deal with her dress? It’s got a ginormous bell shaped skirt with lots of flounces and swags. And, apparently, pockets. Who puts pockets in a ball gown? Amy Adams I guess. OMG—is it…leather? I didn’t see Sandra Bullock’s pocket gown until later—not a fad that should spread.

Jessica Alba—lots of camera time. Yes, she is lovely. Yes, she looks like a million bucks in her beautiful dress, with her beautiful skin and her beautiful smile. But…why is she even at the Oscars? Fantastic 4 didn’t get any nominations so far as I can find…

Keira Knightley—Girlfriend sure is skinny! She has an interesting dark dress, which I later learned was an eggplant Vera Wang, with a cut that like those Barbies from the 1950s. Either that, or she’s had her legs surgically joined at the knees. At least she’s not blonde! Way to buck the trend!

What is this mess Naomi Watts is wearing? The color is nice—shows off her hair, but why oh why is there a seam right around her hips? It’s at an odd spot—not really a dropped waist, because it’s higher than that, but nowhere near her waist. And did she bend over the limo paper shredder on her way to the awards? The bodice of that dress only looks like it was intentional because it matches her hair—which is so crispy and immobile that it couldn’t have been inadvertent. Hey, Naomi—you’re a very pretty woman. Why do you do that with your hair? Suddenly, I’m channeling your mother, aren’t I?

John Stewart—great opening. Love all the past hosts. Halle Berry and George Clooney in bed with Jon.

Who made poor Keira Knightley next to Jack Nicholson? What did she do to be punished so? Who did she refuse to sleep with? Or, who does Jack Nicholson have pictures of that allows him to arrange his seatmates?

Charlize Theron—made up like Goldie Hawn in her salad days. Except Golde Hawn didn’t have a man-eating bow on her shoulder. No, not Goldie—Elizabeth Montgomery. Let’s see if she twitches her nose. No, not quite right—hey! It’s this generation’s Zsa Zsa Gabor! Dahhhhhling!

Keira Knightley again—is that Nick Lachey on her other side? What did she do to the seating arrangement guy?

Love the joke—Capote showed that not all homosexuals are handsome cowboys. Some of them are effete New Yorkers.

Cloons wins! Supporting Actor, which he takes from Nicole Kidman, who is wearing a dress that is actually paler than her skin.

Yeah! Wallace and Grommit wins the Animation Oscar! Helena Bonham Carter and her breasts are in the house, and gave voices in two of the three nominees. After seeing her in the audience, from a cantilevered camera angle, we get the original bosom buddy—Dolly Parton!

Rachel McAdams—blonde? Why blonde? It doesn’t do anything for you, honey—just washes you out and makes the dimples turn into lines. Not everyone can do blonde—be a gorgeous brunette, and stand out!

Oh no, who gave Lauren Bacall such a difficult speech? She looks good—hey, she’s blonde now too? –but her speech! It’s like we had to watch her lose her mind right in front of us. If you’re going to use an icon like she is—make certain nothing goes so frighteningly wrong!

J. Lo! Stay away from the tanning booth! Geez—it’s a good thing you wore a green dress, or you would have looked like an actual film noir, all those sepia tones. Later, I saw a picture of her on the red carpet, gazing at her husband, and there is a HUGE white spot behind her ear where the spray tan missed. Ouch.

The meme tonight is bringing props up for the acceptance speech. We got big floppy bow ties from Nick Park, big stuffed penguins for the winning documentary. What should Heath Ledger and Ang Lee bring up?

How cute! Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep are presenting Robert Altman’s Honorary Oscar using his trademark overlapping dialogue. Both entertaining and charmingly affectionate.

Wow—was Crash as pretentious as the staging of the nominated song from the movie? Sort of a dry ice version of The Raft of the Medusa!

Uma Thurman wearing a lovely pale pink gown—after last year’s bedsheet debacle she looks especially good.

Hey, I just noticed—all five best movie nominees are also best director nominees. This hasn’t happened for a few years.

Larry McMurtry’s writing partner, Diana Ossana—wow, she looks an awful lot like Ann Margaret. As much like Ann Margaret as a normal human being can look.

Gotta love the make-up presentation. Steve Carrel working those eyelashes. Too bad they had to verbalize the joke—Carrell’s slow blinks were priceless. I guess we know why he’s been a virgin for 40 years.

Crash just won for best picture, and a very excited woman in a tangerine colored strapless gown had to hold an Oscar in one hand and pull her dress back up her boobs. Great camera awareness!

Trend spotter—large teardrop earrings. They can’t be diamonds—they are clear and look like the pieces hanging off the chandeliers in my house when we bought it.

Commercial for Don Pablo’s Mexican restaurants, promotes their “all you can eat” fajitas. Small print indicates that it’s “dine in only.” Which raises the question: How could you do “all you can eat” take-out?

Overall, I thought this year’s Oscars were less weighty, more whimsical than past years. There has been such an uncomfortable pretentiousness to THE OSCARS and the MOST IMPORTANT award on the planet. It lead to some horribly awkward moments as actors—who after all are NOT writers—tried to speak about BIG ISSUES and make the GLOBAL AUDIENCE aware of their pet project. This year, the jokes were smaller, the participants seemed more relaxed and actually attempted to be entertaining! I can get behind a trend where the Oscars aren’t just for the winners, but are designed to be entertaining for the audience too.

I Really Hate To Cook, or I'm Screwed

Okay, I've bitched before about anthropomorphism of animals, and how it makes it very hard to feed children foods that used to be Bessie the cow, or Wilbur the pig. In fact, that very thing has lead The Pony to becoming a vegetarian.

Except she doesn't really like to eat vegetables, so she's more of a cheese-atarian. Which you really can't do and stay healthy--there is too much fat in cheese, so something else has to form a meal.

She would eat poultry. So, being a cook who tends toward a protein, a veg, a carb and a fruit at each meal, we'd have a lot of chicken. Because chicken can be anything! You can put spaghetti sauce on it and it's chicken parmasan. You can stir fry it in soy sauce, and it's chinese! You can slap it on a form of bread and it's a sandwich! Douse it in sauce and it's barbeque! Add rice and cream of chicken soup, and it's casserole!

Infinitely variable, chicken is, and it's a staple of my kitchen repertoire.

Yesterday, The Pony's science teacher brought in a whole chicken from the grocery store, and dissected it. He pulled out the giblets and pointed out the components of the digestive system. He demonstrated the strength of the skin, and the way the tendons hold the bones together.

Chicken is now off the menu.

I am screwed!

Sarcasm Is So Becoming

Billboards are popping up all over town for a kind of coffee called "Seattle's Best."

They grow coffee in Seattle?

Who knew?

Parenting Lessons From The Stars

This clip is from Salon:

Talking to Out magazine, Madonna let it be known that her 9-year-old daughter, Lourdes, has been wondering about mommy's sexuality recently: "She is really obsessed with who is gay, and she even asked, 'Mom, you know they say that you are gay?' And I'm, 'Oh, do they? Why?' And she says, 'Because you kissed Britney Spears.' And I said, 'No, it just means I kissed Britney Spears. I am the mommy pop star and she is the baby pop star.'" (Associated Press)

Does Britney know this?

Oscar Mania!!!

I love the Oscars. Love, love, love, lurve, loave the Oscars. Not because I have seen the movies, because most of the time I haven't. I love it for the beautiful people wearing their most beautiful clothes, groomed to the nth degree, working that beauty for the cameras. I love that they are all happy, and that the winners take their beautiful selves up on stage to accept the beautiful trophy from the beautiful presenter.

Not to even mention the beautiful (and anonymous) trophy bearers. It is truly awesome how beautiful some people can be.

Yes. I'm talking about George Clooney.

Not only is he charming and handsome and well spoken and a good actor and a good director and a good screenplay writer and a guy with a home on Lake Como...his acceptance speech! Maybe Clooney should be our next president! Here is a guy who takes pride in being called "out of the mainstream" in a way that the Democratic Party has been woefully failing to do. He stood up for principles and decency--and he did it while looking incredibly handsome and utterly suave.

Heck--I'd vote for him.

Unclear On The Concept: Sports Edition

I have two nephews. The older is only about 7 weeks younger than the Bunny, but it's a case of "Same world, different planets." There is almost no way Danger Boy could be more different than the Bunny.

But I want to talk about his brother--the one with the incredibly large head and the brains to match. (I will have to come up with a better name than that. I know, I know!) Both Danger Boy and Little Brother play hockey. Hey, this is Minnesota. If you don't start your boys playing hockey before they leave the hospital, they are falling behind.

Danger Boy loves sports and loves hockey in particular and is competitive and deeply engaged in the process of winning. Little Brother--not so much.

His take on the game? "I don't like it when they don't share the puck."

How Bad Can It Be?

Dan Brown, the paranoid art major's favorite writer, is being sued. Two of the authors of "Holy Blood, Holy Grail" are claiming that he stole their work for "The DaVinci Code." Random House is the publisher of both books, meaning that the plaintiffs are suing their own publisher. Dan Brown is actually not a defendant, but he is attending the trial and plans to be a witness for the defense.

As a First Amendment junkie since law school, I have my doubts about the validity of the suit here in America. This case is in England, however, and I don't know the copyright laws there. Still, had anyone even heard of "Holy Blood, Holy Grail" before "The DaVinci Code"? Given that DVC has been on the best-seller list since it was published, how could you even get a better marketing campaign for "Holy Blood"?

However, this is not the point. The point is...

Look how charming it is to be sued in London! You are headed to the courthouse, with Tudor half-timbered buildings and neo-Classical structures glimpsed behind the charming double-decker bus. Oh, to be in London, now that the trial is there!