Second Blooming

Pinned

I have a love/hate thing going with Pinterest. I go through spurts of interest.

Pinterest interest.

I'll suddenly get enthusiastic and spend a couple (or six) hours clicking around and repinning. But then I'll forget about it and not go on for weeks.

The other day, I started worrying about our backyard again. Periodically, I'll do this. Worry about the yard. It's very ugly. Full of unrealized potential. But ugly.

Lots of dead grass. Lots of ugly concrete. Really, truly needs help.

But unfortunately, I have...

1. No money.
2. No skills.

Well, I have a little money. And a little skill. But these two things in combination make the whole thing seem overwhelmingly impossible.

So I decided that maybe if I started collecting pictures of what I'd like to have, maybe it would inspire me into action, and Pinterest seemed like a good place to collect these pictures. I've collected quite a few. Which are getting repinned like crazy. Apparently, redoing the backyard is a popular issue.

Right now, this is the side of our house...

Man, that's a whole lot of ugly. But maybe it could be...

Aaaah.

On the other side of the house is our unused hideous driveway. The previous owner, a Korean contractor named Chuck, was crazy for concrete. He poured it everywhere.

Lovely, right? Please ignore the junk and dog poop. The problem is that it's just so ugly and depressing, that I can't get myself motivated to clean it up. But I would if it looked like this...

That's a "Hollywood Driveway" by the way, and historically accurate for our old Craftsman bungalow.

Here's the backdoor and the part of the driveway where I stick the table...

Okay, what if we ripped down the falling down old stoop, cut down the ficus tree (I really hate cutting down our only big tree back there, but a foundation man told me a couple of years ago that it HAD to come down soon - ficus roots are the WORST for foundations), jackhammered up all of Chuck's concrete, put in flagstones and a pergola? Could end up like this...

Heaven, right?

And then there's our neighbor Natalie's garage. Sigh. A problem. Totally falling down and hideous. And yes, that is our "pool" that I never took down from the summer.

But maybe I could cover it with something. Or plant something to screen it.

I mean, that looks sort of doable.

And I'd like to turn this...

The traffic cone's a nice touch, right? Into this...

But seriously? I'd be happy if we just had real grass.

I keep thinking that I could start fixing things up a little at a time, take a side of the yard and work my way around. But the main big daunting thing that keeps getting in my way (other than the no money/no skill thing) is a lack of...irrigation.

I do not have a green thumb. I kill plants. Because I never remember to water them. It's tragic. We have tried. We really have. We own sprinklers. Several different kinds of them. We just never remember to...turn them on. We just don't have that "lawn person" gene that my Daddy had.

Therefore, I need a sprinkler system. You see, Los Angeles, is really just one big irrigated desert. I mean, it doesn't rain here, guys. Well, it rains. It rains for about a month solid. That's what we call rainy season. But for the rest of the year - nada. So everyone has sprinkler systems. Our front lawn has a sprinkler system, and it manages to stay nice and green and lushish, despite my sprinkling failings.

So I keep thinking that maybe I could install a sprinkler system by myself. How hard could it be? Dig some ditches. Lay some pipes. Attach some sprinkler heads. I could look it up on the internet.

And before you ask...Jimmy is useless. You might as well ask Woody Allen to come and install pipes in your yard. Jude would be more help. I'm on my own here.

My friend Carol once suggested that we could get a big group of women together and make a day of it, we'd rent a Ditch Witch from the Home Depot and put in my sprinkler system. I could make margaritas for everybody and we'd have a big sprinkler party. But I just can't find it in myself to actually ask people to come to my home and DIG DITCHES. It's just too pathetic.

What do y'all think? You think I could do it on my own?

I have two things I'm going to do this week to make at least a bit of progress in this backyard department.

First, the City of Los Angeles has this A Million Trees program, wherein I can sign up through the Department of Water and Power to get 10 FREE trees. I just have to promise to plant them in the ground someplace where they will eventually provide shade and thereby reduce energy consumption. I don't really need TEN trees, but I think my friend Eileen's going to take a couple. If anybody else wants one, let me know.

Second, I have discovered that HGTV is currently "casting" THREE backyard renovation shows! I've just got to submit the pictures and a charming and appealing plea for their help. I'm ON IT! Wish us luck!

In the meantime, I'm going to keep adding to my Dream Garden board on Pinterest. I could certainly go with some bougainvillea...

And everybody needs a firepit...

And of course I want...

And in a perfect world...

But alas, I'm probably just dreaming.

But a girl can always dream, can't she? I guess that's what Pinterest's best for.

___________________________________

This post was inspired by...

Prompt #2 - Are you on Pinterest? Share the last five items you pinned, choose one and let it inspire a blog post.

Best of 2011

I have a sinus infection. And Jude just threw up.

That said, I don't feel inspired to write much, so as part of...

I am choosing "Prompt #1 - This year in blog posts...choose a favorite post from each month of 2011 and share."

After much hemming and hawing, these are my personal favorites from each month of 2011. If you're new here, check them out. If you're an old-timer...check them out again, because they're good!

January -

If We Were the Queen of the World - A girl can dream, right?...

We (that's the royal we, y'all) would be fair but firm. In order to benefit the lives of my many subjects, I'm afraid there will have to be a few changes made around here.

BY PROCLAMATION OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN GRETCHEN I

The following changes will be made to the rule of order of the Planet Earth, effective immediately.

1. The muffin top is the new erogenous zone...

READ THE REST HERE.

February -  

Most Surreal Parenting Moment Thus Far - The one in which my poor child is faced with seeing his father...in drag...

Jimmy and I are both members of The Actor's Studio. Yes, the "world-renowned" Actor's Studio, as they say. The place founded in the forties by acting teacher guru Lee Strasberg, the birthplace of "The Method",  training ground to Marlon Brando, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Robert De Niro, Jane Fonda, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, Harvey Keitel, Paul Newman,  Jack Nicholson, Al Pacino, Geraldine Page, Sidney Poitier, Mickey Rourke and Christopher Walken . The home of "Inside the Actor's Studio". Yes, we are...da, da, da, dum...method actors...

READ THE REST HERE.

March - 

Picky, Picky, Picky - My kid's dreadful eating habits exposed...

My child will eat the following foods:

• pancakes
• french toast
• blueberry muffins
• whole wheat bread
• white bread
• good, crusty bread
• rolls
• pumpkin bread
• raisin bread
• flour tortillas...

READ THE REST HERE.

April -

The Uniform - The sad, sad state of my wardrobe...

Sometimes, I just don't know what has become of me.

Black yoga pants and a black hooded long-sleeved shirt.

This is what I have been wearing about 4 out of 7 days a week.

And don't misunderstand. This is not an attractive outfit. It is simply...comfortable...

READ THE REST HERE.

May -

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Murdering gang bangers are found and arrested while hiding under our house. Oh yes, it's true. Life in Los Angeles, baby...

On Friday, Jude and I were having a quiet afternoon at home.

I had just let Jude buy a new game for his DSi as a reward for letting me drag him around during the last day of his Spring Break to the hardware store, the drug store AND the Target, and he was sitting happily in the corner of the living room playing away.

I decided to use the time to make some progress on my ongoing bedroom redecorating, and spray paint a curtain rod.

So I grabbed some newspaper, the old curtain rod and the spray paint and went out the back door and around to the side of the house. As I was spreading out the newspaper and shaking my little spray paint can, I suddenly realized that a helicopter was hovering above me.

Now, helicopters aren't uncommon in the Greater Los Angeles area. But when I looked up, I realized that it was an LAPD helicopter, and it was hovering really close to the ground. Really close to the ground, and circling around. Really close to the ground and circling around...me, to be specific...

READ THE REST HERE.

June - Okay, I'm cheating here - I can't decide, so I'm giving you two...

Alienated - My mediocre career as a space alien...

When I first read that the Spin Cycle topic this week was "UFOs", I must admit, I was stumped. Disappointingly, I have never encountered a UFO, no matter how much I wished it.

But then I realized that while I have never met an alien, I have BEEN an alien. Yes, during my long and incredibly mediocre acting career, I have encountered aliens twice. And in rummaging through my old photo albums, I have actually unearthed photographic evidence...

READ THE REST HERE.

The Vibe - My attempts at decorating while living with a husband who has "opinions"...

Jimmy has opinions.

Damn him.

Most husbands have the sense to defer to their wives in all matters involving design, decorating and aesthetics. When it comes time to redecorate, the couple may discuss their mutual needs, and the wife might offer fabric swatches or paint chips, just so the husband feels slightly involved, but for the most part, the wife makes all the choices. Most husbands are happy with this arrangement.

But not Jimmy...

READ THE REST HERE.

July -

Camp Mama 2011 Week Six: Sisters - Our little, testosterone-heavy household is invaded by GIRLS...

As a thank you gift to my friends Lynn and Darren for hosting my 50th birthday party in their home, we took their two precious daughters, Julianna, 7, and Isabella, 4 for three days. In the past 7 years, Lynn and Darren have been away from the girls exactly...NEVER. Not ever. And when I suggested the idea to Lynn, she jumped at it so fast it made my head spin!...

READ THE REST HERE.

August -

Conversations with Mommy and Pop Part 1 - Visiting the in-laws in New York...

FADE IN:

The family is gathered around the dining room table eating dinner. Mommy has made pasta. Jude, who Mommy thinks isn’t fat enough, has already eaten one enormous bowl of pasta and about 4 slices of Italian bread soaked in sauce.

Jude

I’m done.

Mommy

But you barely ate any of your second bowl of pasta.

Jude

But I don’t want any more. I want ice cream.

Mommy

Oh no, you can’t have ice cream if you don’t eat more of your pasta. It’s not balanced...

READ THE REST HERE.

September -

The One Who Got Away -Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, to few to mention...

The other day, I was talking to my mother-in-law Mommy, and she was all atwitter.

It seems that they had gone to a funeral, a military funeral for an ex-marine, where they draped the coffin with an American flag. According to Mommy, this "brought to mind" an old friend of hers, who she hadn't seen since the '40s, who had been a Marine...

READ THE REST HERE.

October -

LA Noir - My crazy trek across Los Angeles in search of murder...

It was a cloudy day in the City of Angels. The kind of morning that made you want to pour an extra shot of bourbon in your joe so you could face the day.

I looked at my face in the mirror and cringed. Bad night. Hot flashes. I splashed some water on my mug and headed on my way. I had a job to do. Some gumshoe work.

Armed only with my iPhone and a pair of mom jeans, I jumped into my stealthy Prius and started on my quest. My quest for...murder...

READ THE REST HERE.

November -

Dear Period -A love letter...of sorts...

Dear Period,

I fear that over the last few years our relationship has changed dramatically, that things between us have become increasingly uncomfortable and strained, and I know that soon you will leave me forever. Before we move into the next and final phase of our relationship, I'd like to take this opportunity to express my feelings, and hopefully, clear the air a bit...

READ THE REST HERE.

December -

5 Christmas Tips From Mommy - My beloved, eccentric mother-in-law's tips for the season...

For those of you new to Second Blooming, Mommy is my much beloved, 82-year old Brooklyn Italian-American mother-in-law. Mommy is a bundle of love and neuroses. Mommy's turn-ons are cleaning, chocolate, General Hospital, slutty tank tops, the Blessed Mother, blackberry brandy, flashy jewelry, sunbathing, talking to her girlfriends on the phone (all of whom are named Cathy) and her children/grandson. Her turn-offs include germs, bugs, lightning, elevators, bras, logic, "The City", all the scary things she hears about on The Today Show and often...Pop. Picture Edith Bunker with brassy hair and a top purchased from the Victoria's Secret catalogue. I adore her...

READ THE REST HERE.

 

Big. Boy.

Last week, Jude's teacher sent home a checklist which we were supposed to go through, detailing all the specifics of how the kid's study area should be set up -  comfortable chair, good lighting, no distractions, a place for their school supplies. Ergh.

I'm afraid that Jude's been doing his homework at the dining room table. And the whole distractions thing has been an issue. So I'm thinking this checklist is a good idea. And it certainly pointed out what we were lacking.

Honestly, when I was a kid, I mostly did my homework on the coffee table while I was watching "Star Trek". Then when I was a little bit older, I just did it on my bed.

But I realized that it was probably a good idea to set the little man up with a proper study area.

So I spent the entire day today rearranging Jude's entire room, and setting up this...

 

Yep, the kid now has a desk. Thank God for Ikea. It's cute, right?

I'm so proud of myself for buying that shelving unit several years ago, because Ikea also made the matching desk that attached to it. Here's the link if you're interested, it's called the Expedit series. I do highly recommend it. The shelving unit will totally grow with him. I bought those little plastic buckets when he was little to hold all his cars and dinosaurs and stuff, but now we're kind of phasing them out.

I also bought the cool red chair and the lamp and desk accessories to hold all his school supplies. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out.

When Jude got home from school today, I told him he needed to go to his room and start his homework right away. He ran in there with his little backpack and I heard him stop in his tracks and say "Whoa!"

He LOVES it. He was so proud. He especially likes the red chair. Here he is hard at work...

 

I was in the kitchen making dinner, and I kept hearing him talking to himself in there at his new desk. We only children talk to ourselves. He said "this is excellent lighting" and "I love this chair. I could live in this chair." So I'm thinking he's pretty happy about it.

Maybe it'll make him like homework.

Nah.

Camp Mama 2011 Week Five: Mmmm...

...I got nothing.

This week we've done pretty much nothing. Well that's not true. We've done some things. But nothing of note. Remember last week's UBER busy audition/work thing?

Yeah, not a trend. Just a fluke. Had two auditions all week. Sad.

And since none of the events of the week merit their own post, I will attempt to sum things up with bullet points. You know I love my bullet points...

• Jude was at Vacation Bible School with the Presbyterians all week. Much fun was had by all, though apparently, everybody Jude's age was bummed because this is the year they move up into the "Blue Group", which means they no longer get to watch the puppet show. I have no idea what this means, or why this is, but apparently it is a bad thing.
• Only had to endure one night during which the Presbyterians subtly tried to convert me (also known as the Pot Luck Dinner). Jude et al sang lots of songs about Jesus complete with enthusiastic hand gestures.
• Strangely, Corky St. Clair seems to be the songleader at at the Vacation Bible School. Can we say "Marcus Bachmann"?
• I got the "pool" all set up for fun summer play, but now, suddenly, the "pool" filter pump has conked out. According the the internet, this is not an uncommon thing. I really need to order that new pump. The "pool" water is turning an unhealthy shade of green.
• The hot water heater also conked out this week. Had to boil water for baths. Felt very Ma Ingalls.
• I have a love/hate relationship with our plumber. I hate him because he is grossly overpriced. I love him because he's really nice and keeps dropping by unannounced to give Jude presents. He seems to think he's a funny kid. So far, he's given him a plumbers t-shirt, a Darth Vader helmet/voice changer (used - his daughter outgrew it - these things go for $75!) and a fancy schmancy boogie board (also handed down from his daughter).
• Also had to have the furnace man out this week (money is literally spilling through my fingers). Though we don't have air conditioning, Jimmy likes to turn the furnace fan on during the summer to just circulate the air around. Suddenly, the entire house started smelling like a combination of Mommy's basement and a kitty litter box. The reason? The air vent from the furnace had falled off and was just taking in random basement air. We have one of those weird "California basements" which is very small and open to the crawlspace under the house. Hence the kitty litter smell - the neighbor cats crawl under the house to do their business.
• Got my car back from the body shop!! All better now. Still haven't located Chi, but his insurance has decide to pay for things based on the chain of emails he sent me.
• Sadly, through the replacement of my bumper, I have lost my "ObamaMama" bumper sticker.
• Pilates - Check.

Okay. That's it. Hope your week has been more eventful than mine.

I assure you next week will be hopping. But you'll have to wait to hear all about that. I'll give you one hint - girls.

 

My New Boyfriend

I have a new boyfriend.

I love him deeply.

He's sleek, and handsome, and powerful. And he gets really hot.

He inspires me, excites me and brings out the best in me.

And Jimmy is all for it.

The more time I spend with my boyfriend, the happier Jimmy is. And...

Jimmy likes to watch.

Here he is...

 

Isn't he handsome?

On sale at Target.

Last night?

Grilled Shrimp Scampi Style

1/4 cup soy sauce

2 tbsp. sesame oil

2 limes, juiced

2 tsp. honey

2 inch piece fresh ginger, grated

4 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/4 cup canola oil

1 stick butter, softened

1 1/4 lbs. large shrimp, peeled and deveined

Whisk together soy sauce, sesame oil, lime juice, honey, ginger, garlic and canola oil in a bowl, and add it to a food processor. Add the softened butter and pulse until combined.

Brush the mixture onto the shrimp. Place on preheated grill and cook in a single layer for 1 to 2 minutes per side.

Heat rest of sauce and serve alongside.

Y.U.M.

Tonight?

Ribs. Oh yeah.

First, rubbed with the magic formula. Grub Rub.

 

Which, by the way, I'm almost out of and I can't buy out here in Los Angeles. Anybody in Texas feel like sending me some? I'd be forever grateful!

Anyway, Grub Rub + grill = Seared in yumminess.

Then, I put the ribs in a pan, smother them with the precious fluid, cover them with foil, and keep them in the grill until they melt in your mouth.

What is the precious fluid?

Mr. Sneed's Barbecue Sauce

(Mr. Sneed was my best friend Kaysie's sweet daddy, God rest his soul. In addition to being a brilliant lawyer, this man knew a thing or two about barbecue! Mr. Sneed, by the way, only gave me this recipe after my parents had both passed away, and I think he was feeling sorry for me, and a certain amount of paternal responsibility)

1 bottle ketchup

1 cup molasses

1 stick butter, melted

Worcestershire sauce to taste

lemon juice to taste

Tabasco to taste

onion powder to taste

garlic powder to taste

salt to taste

Mix all ingredients. As you can see, there's a considerable amount of tasting involved in this recipe. Have at it.

(Kaysie's brother, Jerry, always throws in a healthy handful of chopped fresh jalepenos, but I'm cooking for my Yankee husband, so I leave them out.)

I feel certain that my boyfriend and I will have a long and productive relationship.

Aren't you jealous?

 

Spin Cycle: The Vibe

Jimmy has opinions.

Damn him.

Most husbands have the sense to defer to their wives in all matters involving design, decorating and aesthetics. When it comes time to redecorate, the couple may discuss their mutual needs, and the wife might offer fabric swatches or paint chips, just so the husband feels slightly involved, but for the most part, the wife makes all the choices. Most husbands are happy with this arrangement.

But not Jimmy.

Now, this would not be a problem if Jimmy's taste was...mmm...good. But unfortunately, Jimmy's taste is...how shall I put this? Well, to put it nicely, Jimmy's taste is...unusual. One-of-a-kind. To put it more accurately, it's...tacky. Okay, I said it. Tacky. Jimmy's decorating style lies somewhere between Good Fellas glam...

 

...and hippie dreck...

 

For Jimmy, it's all about..."the vibe". He has to get a "good vibe" from a place, for him to live in it.

Now to his credit, Jimmy tends to have accurate "vibes".  So if he has a "bad vibe" about about something or some place, I usually listen to him. When we were house hunting, many a decision came down to whether Jimmy got a "good vibe" or a "bad vibe" from a place. We actually have some friends in New York who bought a summer home based almost entirely on the fact that Jimmy had a "good vibe" when he drove past it.

But unfortunately, Jimmy's vibes don't take into consideration things such as style, sophistication or good taste.  In fact, Jimmy seems to believe that anything thought to be stylish and tasteful is in fact boring, bourgeois and "white bread". He feels that any attempt on my part to get him to conform to the tastes and norms of society is in fact an effort by society at large to stifle his personal creativity and joie de vivre. He believes himself to be a free-spirit, and his personal style to have a certain "je ne sais quoi".

And I'm afraid that over the years, people have fostered this belief by saying things to him like "Wow, Jimmy, only you could pull off that outfit." Which he takes to mean "Wow, Jimmy, I am amazed by your unique and passionate display of individuality and creativity. You are HOT." But in fact means, "Wow, Jimmy, that is one freaky weirdo outfit you're wearing, but I appreciate your display of personality and lack of caring what anyone thinks about how you look."

I have learned over the years, to involve Jimmy as little as possible in regard to home decorating. And for the most part, I'm able to get away with it. Luckily for Jimmy, my own personal taste tends to be slightly on the quirky side. My friend Brian once described my taste as "Parisian Flea Market", which I think is fairly accurate. So I guess he can usually handle my choices.

But occasionally, he takes things into his own hands. Once, Jude and I came home from New York to find that he had rearranged all the pictures in the living room. Not one picture was hung in a place that fit the size of its frame, nor was any attention paid to things such as spacing or style. I guess I can't blame him, as he learned such things from Mommy, who is responsible for these...

 
 

When I saw his handiwork, I'm afraid I freaked out a little, which caused Jimmy to accuse me of the whole "white bread", bourgeois thing. I managed to slowly put the pictures back in their original places, sneakily rehanging one picture every few weeks. It was a pain in the butt.

So when I decided it was time to FINALLY redecorate our bedroom, I paused. How much to involve him? I realize now that I should have not involved him at ALL. But unfortunately, I must have been feeling kindly toward him that week, and decided to give him some limited choices.

Gretchen: What kind of "feel" would you like the bedroom to have?

Jimmy: Warm. I want it warm.

Gretchen: Really? Because I was thinking that since it's the bedroom, it should be soothing, and peaceful.

Jimmy: No. I want warm.

Gretchen: Hmmm. Okay. What about color"? Is there any particular color that you're "vibing"?

Jimmy decided to think about it. A few days later, he handed me this tube of cream...

 

Jimmy: This color. I think the room should be this color.

Gretchen: Well. That's certainly warm.

Yes, Jimmy wanted to room to be...orange. Not just orange, but DAY GLO orange.

God help me.

Luckily, I had a secret weapon. My friend Maralee is an interior decorator and set decorator. She's been the set decorator many, many tv shows including "Dirty Sexy Money" and that new show "Hot in Cleveland". And she knows Jimmy, and what a pain in the butt he is. And for some unknown reason, Jimmy trusts her taste. So I told her my predicament.

Clever Maralee, managed to choose a color that was "warm" and in the orange color family, but wouldn't have made my eyes bleed every time I entered the room. The best part was that the name of the color was "Harem", which of course, sold it to Jimmy.

So here you have our new bedroom...

 
 
 

Not bad? Right? The color's sort of terracotta. And it's very warm. And luckily, fairly soothing as well. As always, I apologize for my horrible photographic skills. The duvet's from Pottery Barn, the coverlet thingy's from Bed, Bath and Beyond, and the rug and the lampshades from good old Target. The curtains were leftover from our old apartment. So it was all pretty cheap.

I still haven't hung anything over our bed. I have a typical Southern California fear of hanging any large glass items over the bed, in case of earthquake. Any ideas?

The best part? Jimmy immediately got a "good vibe" from it. For a couple of weeks he kept walking in there, looking around and muttering things like "good vibe" and "warm". Whew.

But NOW? Jimmy has decided that he thinks I should carry the whole "harem" theme further, by hanging fabric from the ceiling. I have told him that under no circumstances will I turn our bedroom into the Moroccan theme room at the Madonna Inn. Please back me up on this.

In a couple of weeks, I'm going to paint the kitchen.

I am asking Jimmy NOTHING.

__________________________________

Please visit Sprite's Keeper for more spins on the topic - Decorating.

 

Easter Recap

When last we heard from "The Adventures of Gretchen Mother/Choir Geek"...

Gretchen had foolishly decided to redecorate the bedroom during the week of Catholic terror better known as...Holy Week.

Did Gretchen's church choir manage to pull off all that Handel?

Was Jimmy capable of caring for their child for three nights in one week while Gretchen was off singing her butt off?

Was Gretchen able to finish all that painting without painting herself into a corner? Both literally and figuratively?

Will she finish all this home-improvement before the invasion of the in-laws?

And what about that pesky cold Gretchen felt was on the way?

This and many more questions will be answered if you stay tuned...

WHEW!

Easter has been survived.

I will bring you a recap with bullet points. I love bullet points. It's a bullet point kind of day.

• Wednesday = 5 hours of painting + 3 hours of choir rehearsal.
• Thursday = 2 hours of painting + early dismissal at Jude's school + 2 hour 8-year old's roller skating birthday party + 2 hour Holy Thursday/Washing of the Feet Mass.
• Friday. The day of the big Good Friday Tre Ore at church. Theodore Dubois' "Seven Last Words of Christ". Since I just couldn't force my child to sit through 3 hours of tragic sacred choral music, Jude was sent off with my friend Cathleen and her daughter, Kiyomi, to an egg hunt. Yes, he was playing with a...girl. A bit of an issue when first discussed, but ended up being totally fun, of course. My choir? FABULOUS. If I do say so myself. And looky...you may check us out too. This is a live, unmixed recording, but I think we sound pretty danged good...

  BSC First Word

• Bad news re: Friday was that I totally forgot to book out with my agents, and they called me with a last minute audition right when the big sing was going to start. They were NOT HAPPY with me that I couldn't make the audition.
• So my penance (as though a 3 hour Good Friday service was not enough penance) was TWO auditions on Saturday. Both kind of stupid. Argh. Poor Jude was dragged around with me from audition to audition. I guess it was better than playing with girls.
• We did get to go to another egg hunt on Saturday, at the house of some old friends of ours who have a little 3-year old girl. Once again, it was Jude and a bunch of girls. At one point, Jude was playing with this toy, this long tunnel thing like this...
• He put the thing over his body and stood up so the tunnel was vertical. He then proceeded to chase the girls around and try to whack them with the top of the tunnel, which he could whip around by bending at the waist. Get the visual?  At which point my friend Brian, who never misses a phallic symbol if he can help it, pointed out that Jude had turned himself into a giant plastic penis, and was chasing the girls around and attacking them. I'm afraid this was true.
• So Saturday night, Jimmy had one of his many ailments, and took to bed. I was thus forced to do the Easter bunnying all by myself. All that damned egg filling, and basket stuffing, followed by furtively wandering around the yard late at night with a flashlight. Gang dudes kept cruising past our house and checking me out. It was rather unnerving.
• Easter morning, Jimmy was still laid up, so I went outside in my bathrobe, clutching my coffee while Jude scampered around egg hunting. In the middle of filling his basket, Jude suddenly looked up, shook his head seriously and said "The Easter Bunny is SO kind." I love my child. I also took this as a personal compliment.

 
                       

• I'm taking this bullet point to vent a bit. Doesn't the Easter Bunny seem a little confusing to you? I mean, Santa makes sense, you know. He's a man, and he's got a sleigh and magic reindeer and a vast workforce of elves. But the bunny? He's just one little mammal. Where does he carry those eggs? Does he carry a magic basket clutched in his teeth? Does he have a little magic burrow with a bunch of...squirrels or deer or... you know, wildlife type creatures who stuff plastic eggs from the Target with Hershey's kisses? The whole mythology of the bunny is a bit vague. Somebody should work on this.
• After the egg hunt, Jude and I got gussied up and went to church for yet more singing. The one good thing about Jimmy not feeling up to going to church with is is that I got to dress the child the way I wanted. In his little suit and tie. Last year, Jimmy brought him with him to church (I had to go early to practice with the choir) and had ignored the nice little outfit I had laid out for the kid, in favor of dressing him Jimmystyle - this weird scarf/ascot around his neck in lieu of a tie, and a fedora!
• Hats!

 

Okay, Isabella looks like a demon child there. This is better...

 

• The bedroom is painted. I moved all of the furniture BY MYSELF. That includes two dressers and a king-sized bed with bed frame. Don't ask where Jimmy was. I will write more about this process, and provide pictures later this week.
• Jude's Spring Break has officially started. The activities for Monday, his first big day of holiday were - watching Mom paint, going with Mom to a dental appointment, and cleaning his room. I have promised him that his holiday will improve.
• The cold went away.

That is all the bullet points I've got.

RTT: Excuses, Seaweed, and Bunny Ears

I'm afraid you're not going to get much out of me this week. For several reasons:

1. It's Holy Week. Which means that once again, I am spending a crazy amount of time down at the church with my choir, rehearsing for all the Easter hullabaloo. We Catholics specialize in hullaballoo. And this Joe, our new choir director is a TASKMASTER. And he has whipped us into shape, I'm telling you. We're sounding damned good, if I do say so myself. On Good Friday, we're singing a Tre Ore, which means "three hours" for you non-Latin speakers. We're singing a cantata - "The Seven Last Words of Christ" by Theodore Dubois. It's big and dramatic, and we get to sing stuff like "Crucifige eum!" (crucify him) really loud. After the seventh and final word of Christ ("Consummatum est!" - It is finished!), the organist goes wild, recreating an earthquake with the organ. Apparently, for an organist, this is great fun, and they've been known to throw their entire bodies on the keys. Then on Easter, we're singing a whole butt-load of Handel, my personal favorite composer to sing - "Worthy is the Lamb/Amen" from the Messiah, and "Sing Unto God" from Judas Maccabaeus. It's all very excellent, but a lot of work.
2. I've foolishly chosen this week to redecorate our bedroom. The first step is painting.  Pray for me. More on this as events unfold.
3. I have a cold. It's not a raging, rotten, crippling cold, but it is still a bummer, and I keep having sudden and passionate sneezing fits.

So while I struggle through this week, I will give you a few...

 

...still hosted by the lovely Stacy, Keely still playing hooky.

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I hate it when my younger, sluttier life catches up with me. There is this guy who I went out with a few times long, long ago. It was not a deep or meaningful relationship. Well...he has turned up in my life again. He lives in our neighborhood. And as huge as Los Angeles is, it can also be something of a small town. I run into this man EVERYWHERE. It's become a bit of a joke to me. And it can be awkward. We always chat cordially and make silly small talk and that's it. So the other day, I ran into him for the FOURTH time in a week, this time at the grocery store. I was cringing at the sight of him, because I looked SO bad - wearing the worst possible version of my "uniform" with no make up and my hair up on top of my head a la Pebbles Flintstone. We chatted and made awkward jokes as usual. But he seemed particularly uncomfortable, and we parted quickly. When I got back to my car, I looked into the rear view mirror, and realized that I had an enormous piece of the Trader Joe's Seaweed Snack I had been eating earlier stuck to my front tooth. Sad.

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Have y'all heard of Uncombable Hair Syndrome? It's a real condition, I kid you not. I heard about it on NPR, and I looked it up on Wikipedia, so it must be true. According to the folks at Wiki, Uncombable Hair Syndrom "is a rare structural anomaly of the hair" and "the underlying structural anomaly is longitudinal grooving of the hair shaft, which appears triangular in cross section. There usually is no family history, though the characteristic hair shaft anomaly can be demonstrated in asymptomatic family members by scanning electron microscopy." Whatever the hell that means. But the result is...

 

EEK! I had been worrying a lot about the state of Jude's hair in the morning, but this makes me feel much better. I fear that the only treatment for Uncombable Hair Syndrome is a hat.

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I am LOVING my new Sunday night TV shows. First, is the new AMC drama, "The Killing". Dang it's good. Excellent acting, excellent writing. Creepy mystery/whodonit but heavily character driven. And it has that dark, dreary, murky supposed-to-be-Seattle-but-it's-shot-in-Vancouver look. I HIGHLY recommend it.

And then the new "Upstairs, Downstairs"! Oh, how I loved the original "Upstairs, Downstairs". Mama and I obsessed over it! We would banish Daddy from the room and huddle together and watch every minute of it. And the new one has not disappointed me at all. Still produced by the wonderful Jean Marsh, the story has progressed to the 1930s, the same period as "The King's Speech". The Bellamy's are gone, and 165 Eaton Place has been purchased by a young and ambitious couple. Housemaid Rose is drawn back in as housekeeper. So British upper-crusty yummy. Just what I need as a lead in to the bit royal wedding next week.

 

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Here's a little something to get you in the mood for Easter...

 

 Okay, I am off to tend my cold. I can't believe I've given up the NyQuil. Dang. Go visit Stacy!

RTT: Heeby Jeebies, Fergie and Jambalaya

I am particularly scattered and uninspired here. I'm afraid that a few...

...are all I'm capable of.

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Our house is a disaster. Two guys named Tony and Hoover showed up today and started work on fixing up our attic, a MUCH needed home improvement. We're not doing anything fancy, just turning it into a usable storage space, but nonetheless, the hallway is covered with plastic and all the furniture is moved around, and they've torn a hole in the ceiling of the hallway, through which musty, warm air is pouring. It's creepy up there too.  They let me poke my head up and look around. Lots of ancient insulation. Seems like the perfect place for mice. Or bats. Or black widows. Eeeeeeeeeeeek. Okay, I'm giving myself the heeby jeebies. Something about that big gaping hole in the ceiling...Tony and Hoover better finish this up quickly. Then I'll only get the heeby jeebies every time I haul out the Christmas decorations.

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Did y'all watch the Super Bowl? Of course I'm not talking about the actual football game, I'm talking about the important stuff - the entertainment and the commercials. It seems like this year was a bit of an anomaly. The football game was actually really excellent, and the rest of it was dreadful. And I mean really dreadful. Christina Aguilera? What the hell was she doing? I'm not even talking about the botched the lyrics. It was just terrible singing. All flash and no substance. Someone told me that there were actually Vegas odds on how long she'd make the National Anthem last, and now I see why. She was all over the place, all those unnecessary runs, warbling on and on. Just sing the song, damn it! And then the Black-Eyed Peas! Egad! I was in a room of friends who were all huge Pea fans, really looking forward to seeing them. But we were left stunned by their pathetic performance! I had a real sense that they had simply never rehearsed. All those white clad folks with the boxes on their heads had probably been rehearsing all week, but the Peas flew in that afternoon and just winged it. Or would that be wung it? And the big surprise guest were...Slash and Usher? Huh? Did anyone care? The only positive I have for the whole thing is that they clearly weren't lip-syncing, as Fergie was off-key for the vast majority of the performance. Bring back the geriatric rockers of yesteryear!

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I have recently identified what would be, for me, the worst job on the planet Earth. On a street near us is a business called Liberty Tax Services. Every day, of late, a man has been standing on the sidewalk in front of the office, wearing a large Statue of Liberty costume, making silly faces and waving a sign that says "Liberty Tax". He is a grown man. It's extremely undignified. I fear that he may have had to explain this get up to his wife, or friends. I sincerely hope that they are paying him very well, but...mmm...doubt it. I realize that for most people, the worst job on the planet Earth would involve something like...scraping roadkill, or cleaning bathrooms in a porn theater. But for me, standing on the street in a Statue of Liberty costume would be utter humiliation. Not sure what this says about me...

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My friend Ronda and I have to teach Jude's Cub Scout den about recycling. It's some sort of requirement thingy, and we seem to have become the parent volunteers. It's our job as Akela. I think we'll bring a bunch of trash, and teach them how to sort it, only all of our bottles and cans are booze. Maybe not appropriate. We'd like to come up with some sort of craft they can make out of old junk - the "reuse" part of the whole "reduce, reuse and recycle" bit. But all the crafts we can think of seem too girly. Turning old tin cans into pencil holders? Really? Does anybody have any great ideas? Please?

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This is pretty damned cute...

 

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I have nothing else to say. I'm going to go stand in the hall and stare up into the hole in the ceiling at the gaping abyss and worry. And then I'm probably going to go in and comfort myself by dishing up another bowl of this really excellent Weight Watchers Jambalaya I made tonight. Here's the recipe so you can too!

Shrimp and Sausage Jambalaya

(7 WW points per 1 1/2 cup serving, for those of you who care)

1 tbsp. butter

1 large onion, chopped

1 green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

2 celery stalks, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

6 oz. turkey kielbasa, cut into 1/4 inch slices (I used 8 oz. because that's the way it comes. Sue me.)

1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice

1 (28-oz) can whole peeled tomatoes, broken up

1 (14 1/2) can reduced-sodium, fat-free chicken broth

3/4 tsp. dried thyme

1/4 tsp. cayenne

1 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined

1. Melt the butter in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, bell pepper, celery and garlic. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add the kielbasa and cook, stirring, 3 minutes longer.

2. Add the rice and cook, stirring frequently, until lightly toasted, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and their liquid, the broth, thyme and cayenne; bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, until the rice is tender, about 30 minutes.

3. Add the shrimp to the mixture and cook until just opaque in the center and all the liquid has been absorbed, 5 to 7 minutes longer. 

Gracified

Aunt Grace has arrived for her annual Thanksgiving visit.

Which, of course, means I've spent the past week working on the Gracification of our house. Or as I've referred to it in the past "The Biannual Boil". Which basically means that every inch of our home must be boiled, bleached, scrubbed, steam cleaned, ironed and straightened in preparation for the visit. You see, Jimmy's family, and Aunt Grace in particular, are freakishly, obsessively, whackadoo clean. Dare I say obsessive compulsive? Yes, I dare.

And because of my basic pathetic insecurity, I am always struggling to maintain the fiction to the family that I too am very, very clean. Which is...mmm...not true. Over the summer, when I stayed at Aunt Grace's apartment while I was attending BlogHer, I was afraid to touch anything. I actually took pictures with my iPhone so I'd remember how to put everything in the bathroom back the way I found it. I was gratified afterward to hear that Grace had told Mary "You'd never even know she'd been there." The ULTIMATE compliment on Grace's part.

So all last week I went room by room, and did all of those "deep cleaning" chores that I'd been putting off -

1. I sorted and dealt with the ginormous pile of crap that had accumulated on the floor next to my desk. (NOTE: the pile of crap did not actually consist of...crap, but of old bills, catalogues, letters, Jude's art, flyers, books and 436 things that had been sent home from Jude's school. In other words...crap).
2. I climbed up and cleaned off the 1/4 inch of dust that had accumulated on the top of the ceiling fan in Jude's room, which made the normally white fan blades look as though they were made out of charcoal gray felt. And which I had stared at every night for months while I was reading to Jude, but never did anything about.
3. I washed and ironed all the curtains. Jimmy actually walked into the kitchen, gasped and said "Oh my God! Will you look at that!" when he saw the kitchen curtains. Guess I should do this more often.
4. I took out the refrigerator drawers and scrubbed out the science experiment that was growing underneath, thusly finally uncovering the peculiar odor emanating from the fridge. Ewww.
5. I finally pulled out the wood glue, and repaired the two wiggly dining room chairs. The two chairs that for the past two years we've been warning people not to sit in. "NO! Not that one!!!"

But despite all of this preparation, I had saved all of the real boiling - the dusting, Windexing, bleaching, vacuuming, scrubbing, sweeping and mopping - for Saturday, the day before Grace's arrival. I wanted everything to be perfect when she got here. My plan was to clean the house all Saturday afternoon, then wrap Jimmy and Jude in plastic, and stand them on newspaper in the corner until just before Grace's plane arrived.

But then, of course, God bit me in the ass. On Friday night, at about 2:00 a.m., I was awakened. Hmmm. I feel...funny...like I'm going to...and I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I then spent the next two hours vomiting. Or, more colorfully stated, "bowing down to the porcelain goddess".

I was feeling only moderately better when the alarm clock rang at 6:45 a.m. Why 6:45 a.m. on a Saturday, you ask? Because it was time for Jude's Cub Scouts annual Raingutter Regatta. Now, I realize that having spent the night "doing the Technicolor yawn" was an excellent excuse to not take the child to his boat race. But...I am his Akela. And we'd worked so damned hard making that damned boat for the damned race. And because I'm an idiot. And Jimmy had a coaching client coming at 9:00.

So we went to the damned boat race. And his little boat came in Second Place, thank you very much. So proud. The saddest thing about the morning was that I absolutely looked like holy hell, and not one person mentioned it. No one said "Are you okay? You look a bit frail and pallid." Which leads me to fear that they just thought "Well, she's old, I guess this is how she looks in the morning."

And immediately following the Raingutter Regatta, Jude had a soccer game. In the rain. Yes. I know. This was foolish. "Driving the porcelain bus". Yes. But again, Jimmy had a coaching client. And Jude had missed his game last week because he had a cough, and he really, really wanted to go, and...well, his coach is rather attractive.

After all this, I got home and proceeded to clean. And clean. And clean. And dust and vacuum and scrub and Windex and bleach and mop. When Jimmy came in and I finally confessed that I'd spent the night "tossing my cookies", he got kind of mad at me for doing all this stuff. Though, I must add didn't offer to do it himself! He did say that we should "call somebody to do it". Who this miracle cleaning lady is who will show up at the last minute on a Saturday, I DON'T KNOW (do people still say "cleaning lady" or is that an obsolete Texanism?). Anyway, he did take Jude for lunch and a haircut, thus enabling me to finish all my work and finally GO TO BED. So I guess that's something.

Then on Sunday morning, I woke up, felt somewhat better, and started to get ready for church. The plan was for Jimmy and Jude to pick Grace up at the airport at 11:00, and I'd meet them after mass. As I was making Jude's breakfast I suddenly heard...Jimmy throwing up! Yep. It was his turn. "Blowing beets". "Yodeling groceries". Poor, poor thing.

So Grace has arrived. So far she's been forced by Jude to play two games of Candyland and one game of Sorry and to watch two episodes of Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated. Neither of them have thrown up. So far so good.

I am FINALLY relaxing. In our really very clean, thoroughly Gracified house. I need to remember this. How much nicer our home is when it's really very clean. I should very much try to keep it this way. But alas, something always gets in the way. Like..."calling Ralph on the big, white phone". Sigh...