Theology. Wrenches. Loopholes. HEADACHES.

LOST.

I'm annoyed and anxiously anticipating the end.

A late plea to the creators/producers: Abstaining from airing any episodes that are 90% subtitled would be fantastically appreciated.

This show is giving me weekly migraines. I should've recorded the whole thing on DVR and skipped all the bullshit. Seriously. Good Grief. Done.

Toddler bribery

I stayed with my godmonster goddaughter last night while Kerry took Felton to Little Gym. Sydney isn't really a monster, but she often acts like she thinks I am one.

Despite Kerry's attempts at preparing her for being left alone with me, once she caught on her face turned down and she began to wail. She continued for several minutes after Kerry left and I wasn't sure what to do, but my course of action must've been genius because it instantly silenced the child.

After reading one of her books to myself (I could barely hear myself over her pitiful weeping) I ignored her for a minute and walked over to the couch to find the remote. I found Monsters Inc. on the DVR playlist, turned around and said, "I'm going to watch Monsters Inc. Do you wanna watch with me?" She replied with a choked sob, "yeah." So I called her over, brought her favorite blanket along with her milk, and she didn't make a peep for a long while.

Thankfully the next sound she made was giddy laughter. I loved when at the end of the movie, as Boo was beating up Randall and I yelled, "Get 'im Boo!" Sydney repeated my cheers. It was too cute.

Here she is in a much happier mood than when I arrived:


After the movie was over, Sydney wanted nothing more than to watch more television and continuously apply my chapstick to her tiny lips. So I bribed her again by telling her that if she let me get her ready for bed she could wait up for mom. Although Kerry wasn't due back much later than Sydney's normal bed time, I'm sure she would've preferred that Sydney was in bed on time, but I really didn't want to suffer through another bout of crying. It honestly breaks my heart to see her upset, so the bribes served both of us in my opinion.

Aren't babysitters allowed to fudge on the rules a little bit every now and again?

I'll be back...

I watched Terminator 2: Judgment Day yesterday and found myself in awe of the special effects almost 20 years after its release. I still think Robert Patrick ruled that film in all his melty-metal body glory. I saw it in the theater when I was 17 and I remember my boyfriend's disgust when I cried at the end of the film. Perhaps those tears were on advance for the way the Terminator series began to stink afterwards.

Anyway, I remember watching the original film, The Terminator some time after its theatrical release on video. When the futuristic date 2029 flashed on the screen at the beginning, I vividly recall thinking, "I'll be so dead by then. People will be orbing and beaming up everywhere." I've recently surprised myself by realizing that in 2029 I'll only be 55-years-old. I guess in 1984, at the age of 10, I couldn't imagine a long-term future in terms of a date that seemed so far away.

Similarly, I caught part of Titanic last night as well. I saw it for the first time on December 22, 1997. I celebrated my 24th birthday less than a month before. But every time I see any part of that film, I recall exactly how I felt that first time in the theater. My friend Mark kept trying to console me by saying, "it's just a movie. That didn't really happen." I vehemently countered with, "I don't care about those Jack and Rose characters - that DID really happen. All of those people died for no reason - largely as a result of a ridiculous class division and snobbery."

But I do admire James Cameron's dedication to the truth of the story. There are many subtle details that were taken from historical accounts. For example, when Jack and Rose break through the wall and the crew member chases them claiming they'll be responsible for paying for it, they both turn around and scream, "Shut up!" That really happened, but of course the people weren't named Jack and Rose.

To put the misinterpretation exclamation point on my love of Titanic, my boyfriend at the time bought me a ridiculous, limited edition print of Jack and Rose, framed, with this special little battery-powered light-up section at the bottom. I wanted to laugh when he gave it to me but I knew that would crush him. I dutifully kept it for quite a while, but eventually sold it at a yard sale. You see, I know Jack and Rose as characters made the movie more marketable, but I've personally never lost sight of the fact that more than 1500 people lost their lives on that February night in 1912. That loss has always been the root of the Titanic tragedy.

I guess my point of this post is that movies really can take you back. Both memories of the movies and memories of viewing them have stuck with me for more than 25 years in some cases.

Ahhh. The power of a good movie!

Aromatherapy fix

Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day lavender scented hand soap is like heaven in a bottle.

I'd seen it several times but never smelled or used it until last weekend at my friend Kile's house. Wow. I wanted to attach my nose to the bottle.

But it's really not just the scent. My hands tend to crack and bleed from dryness, and not just in the winter. In fact, more than one doctor has recommended medication in an effort to reduce my obsessive cleansing - especially after seeing my deeply cracked and chapped hands. I'm plenty medicated, but I'm not willing to take a pill to curb hand washing.

Anyway, back to the soap. It is cruelty- free, biodegradable, and scented with naturally occurring essential oils. It cleanses thoroughly without drying and in case I didn't emphasize it enough earlier, it smells like heaven.

I bought a bottle last night at Harris Teeter for $3.75 for 12.5 ounces. It's also available at World Market, but those stores seem to be dropping like flies these days.

There are definitely cheaper and most likely equally effective hand soaps on the market, but do those soaps smell like heaven? I recommend indulging in some Mrs. Meyer's soap every now and again.

Weekend recap: Puppy breath tops

Puppy breath should be bottled and sold. I can't get enough of it.

I went to Charlotte to visit my long-ago roommate Kile, and a few days before I was supposed to arrive she informed me that a puppy was waiting to meet me.

Her name is Rose (Rose Petal in fact, as named by her 5-year-old owner, Charlotte) and she's a Cavachon (King Charles Spaniel and Bichon Frise mix).



Look at that puppy belly! And trust me, it's a bloated one. Rose is a butterball. Aside from her razor sharp teeth - which are prone to gnashing - Rosie (I like the nickname, courtesy of Max) is an angel.



Rose made Zoe look like a beast! I tried to estimate Rosie's weight by holding Zoe in one hand and Rosie in the other, but my powers are limited. I would guess that Rosie is about 3 pounds, and she is adjusting to her new home very well.

Kile and I enjoyed catching up - and reminiscing of course - and the weekend weather couldn't have been better. We spent Friday evening outside on her patio while the dogs enthusiastically engaged in some pretty intense romping.

One of the most ridiculous topics of conversation regarded Zoe's never-ending peeing. Zoe is a "marker." She wants/has to pee on any area where another dog has urinated. Since Kile has three dogs, her yard was ground zero for Zoe's "marking" tendencies. We honestly watched Zoe pee at least 10 times per two-minute intervals more than once. I'm glad Kile thought it was funny. I was mildly embarrassed.

Another beautiful sunny Charlotte Saturday was followed by a rather dismal Sunday - on and off rain kept both the kids and the dogs indoors. Such a situation was not entirely unwelcome after the ridiculously late-ending previous night.

Somehow Kile and I ended up on the topic of the Twilight Saga - she'd recently watched the first film on pay-per-view - so we ended up watching New Moon (the 2nd time for me, the first time for her).

I saw New Moon in the theater and thought it was a terrible movie, but surprisingly on the second viewing I didn't think it was all bad. Don't get me wrong, I still laughed out loud on several occasions that I can't imagine were meant to be funny, but I admit I wasn't appalled. And by the way, Kile said she liked it.

The far more valuable perk of the weekend was Brent - Kile's husband. He's a tornado. He never stops moving, entertaining, cooking, cleaning, pleasing. He always takes care of me. Thanks for indulging us girls Brent!

Back at home...

When I arrived at Kerry's to get Bailey, she gave me some slightly disturbing news. Apparently Bailey's physical capabilities don't extend beyond a 1/4 mile walk.

Robert's (K's husband) stoic response to my reaction to this news was, "He (Bailey) better not die here!" And Rob sincerely means that because he knows that the loss of Bailey will destroy me.

Said supposed loss is what lead Robert out in the rain with Emma in tow during one of Bailey's many houdini escapades. Both Rob and Kerry have cared for, searched for and found Bailey more than most would ever bother. They are my dog-sitter guardians!

But my boy is getting old. I hope everyone will think good thoughts so that he might live a while longer - so long as it's relatively pain-free!

So you think you want naturally curly hair

I inherited naturally curly hair from my father. Now, when I say naturally curly, I should clarify that when left to its own devices my hair is larger than Buckwheat. Evidence can be seen at this post. I do in fact have a photo of the most embarrassing example of said afro somewhere but I can't find it just now. It was posted on my office door - in full color - for over two years before we moved to different digs.

My mother's hair is slightly wavy but of course my brother got all of mom's genes, and he practically shaves his head. So unfair.

Throughout my entire life I've listened to people telling me, "you should wear your hair curly! You're so lucky!" Ummmm. NO. I'd like to remind those people who don't live in Arizona or some other desert climate that having naturally curly hair SUCKS.

For instance, one night last summer I was completely jealous of my niece, who has beautiful light brown STRAIGHT hair. We were at an outdoor restaurant at Holden Beach, where I had to wear a hat to tame my unruly locks. She was 7. She would've looked much more adorable in my hat at her age, but I'm the one with hair that tends toward dreadlocks.

Actually, I spent my entire spring break at the age of 22 with a hat on my head in Jamaica for the same reason. My fashion statement likely did NOT catch on: cocktail dress with baseball cap and ponytail bun.

People always want what they don't have, but I'd seriously be willing to bet a year's salary that anyone with my hair would strongly wish they didn't have it.

I remember one ridiculous instance in particular (as no one believes the extreme curliness of my hair). When I went to Iceland in 2004 I was too cheap to purchase a power converter, so I was unable to completely straighten my hair (I have since been quite successful with only a hair dryer and a round brush, but at the time my hair was MUCH longer).

So when I arrived at dinner on our first night, several of my colleagues asked me if I'd gotten a perm. The smart-ass in me couldn't resist the following response, "Yes, I touched down here in Reykjavik a few hours ago and getting a perm was my first order of business."

Those with straight hair should cherish it - at least you CAN perm it. Getting kinky hair chemically straightened is far more difficult - yes, I've tried and failed. What I wouldn't give for a wash-n-go frizz-free do!

St. Patrick's Day: It's once a year and it always falls on the same date in March

Yesterday wasn't the first time that I was miffed by the inability of others to remember that St. Patrick's Day falls on March 17th EVERY YEAR. It's kinda like Christmas - that day never falls on any other than December 25th. C'mon people.

But lo and behold I heard my dear friend responding to a colleague yesterday, "No, I didn't realize it was St. Patrick's Day today." Good thing, because it wasn't.

No, I'm not Irish, but seriously - how does one not know that St. Patrick's Day is always on March 17th?

I admit to almost never remembering to wear green on the actual day - despite the fact that more than 70% of my clothes are green (I have green eyes so green clothes suit me best) - I definitely have never forgotten that St. Patrick's Day falls every year on the 17th of March.

As my supervisor pointed out, it was the IDES of MARCH (yesterday March 15th), as in "et tu, Bruté?" Although I'm pretty sure Caesar never enjoyed St. Patrick's Day.

I'll be actively thinking of ways to promote St. Patrick's Day - and the awareness of the holiday's actual date - in my spare time.

Far more memorable than critics would have you believe

I'm really glad that tasteless spoilers (thanks a heap Perez Hilton) and negative reviews didn't keep me from going to see "Remember Me" in the theater on Sunday. Both Jen and I really loved the film.

We found it no where near boring or trite and we didn't feel offended at the end either. As another reviewer put it online, "What some will see as a sucker punch, I found more of a footnote, for what ultimately matters in 'Remember Me' is all that comes before."

The tag line, "Live in the Moments," really is perfect.

Even though the ending was spoiled, Jen and I were both pleasantly surprised with the way the film ended. While I sincerely believe it to be impossible for the end to surprise anyone now, I won't add to the spoilfest here. Instead, I will give a very brief synopsis and recount some of my favorite scenes.

The story: troubled college student Tyler (Robert Pattinson) meets larger than life college student Ally (Emilie de Ravin) by a somewhat random twist of fate. Neither planned to fall in love with the other, but it happens anyway. Ally helps Tyler to see that there's more to life than bitterness, regret and brooding. Truths withheld tear them apart. Love conquers, but tragedy prevails. Through tragedy, two families heal and learn how to go on.

Like many reviewers, I particularly enjoyed the scenes with Tyler and his younger sister Caroline (Ruby Jerins). One of my favorites was when Caroline asks Tyler if he's going to come to her art show. Tyler says, "Hmmm. I'll have to check my book (pause for dramatic effect). Absofreakinlutely! I'll be there the day before. I'm camping out!" I'm sure we'd all love to have a brother adore us as much as Tyler adores Caroline.

I also loved the dinner scene with Tyler, Ally and Tyler's dad (Pierce Brosnan). Of course Tyler would prefer Ally not like his father, but she proves to be just as charming as ever and the two connect on a certain level - as much as Mr. Hawkins can connect with anyone anyway. It is during this scene that one can begin to understand how/why Tyler would fall for Ally - because she is good for making the best of an uncomfortable situation, and she's willing to put herself aside to be there for someone else in need.

I adore Lena Olin - in all her gorgeous glory - and although her part was fairly minor, I thought she played it extremely well. I also really liked Mr. Hawkins' secretary, Janine (Kate Burton). Her role on the surface had minimal impact, but under the family dynamic she was, in a way, the glue that held Tyler and his father together.

Another big difference between Jen/Tracey and the reviewers was that we didn't absolutely hate Tate Ellington (Aidan, Tyler's roommate). Yes, he had an obnoxious quality about him, but he wasn't without his charms. If nothing else, he played a drunk pretty well in a couple of scenes.

As a few other reviewers stated, New York really was a character in the film for me, too. I've only been there twice, but I really felt like I was there on the streets, in the heart of New York throughout the film.

Like I said, I really liked this movie. If you don't want to gamble on the price of a theater ticket, I highly recommend renting the DVD when it comes out. I'm sure Redbox will carry it and it's definitely worth $1.

My biggest disappointment in the spoilers was that I would've liked to have known if I could've figured out the end on my own. Should anyone out there manage to see the movie without having been informed on the ending beforehand, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

A Million Little Pieces

I finished this book last night with mixed emotions. It is widely known that Mr. Frey was accused of embellishing and/or fabricating many of the core details of his “memoir,” and I was aware of the controversy before I read the first page. Many other readers were not – they read every page believing it to be part of the actual harrowing truth of a drug-ravaged addict fighting for his life.

I still read the book with great interest and took it for what it has now been reported to be – a realistic depiction of what a near-death alcoholic and drug addict might go through in rehab.

I must not be alone, because after all the controversy regarding the truth of Frey’s account, the publisher offered to reimburse anyone who felt defrauded by the book’s categorization as a memoir. Although Random House set aside $2.35 million for lawsuits, only 1,729 readers came forward to receive a refund for the book. The refund offer was extended to anyone who had purchased the book prior to Frey disclosing the falsehoods therein. The total amount paid in refunds was $27,348.

My mixed emotions were the following:

1. Did I enjoy the book because I believed it to be a work of partial-fiction?

2. Would I have enjoyed the book more had I believed it to be non-fiction? (having no knowledge of the memoir controversy).


Fresh off of reading the book I’d say that I never would’ve believed it to be truly non-fiction in the first place. First off, and one of the issues openly admitted by Frey, is the issue of his hard-core toughness. Thankfully he acknowledged that he unrealistically built himself up to be “Mr. Badass,” because if he hadn’t I would be sincerely embarrassed for him.

Second, there were way to many holes in his recollections and WAY too many scenarios that only a complete idiot would accept as fact.

I’m having a hard time coming up with examples of his ridiculous tales, only because most of them are far too vulgar to post here. However, while I’m not male and haven’t been in many physical fights, I must say that if I were male, a 5’10” 150+ pound 23-year-old wouldn’t send me into panic mode. In fact, I don’t know if the aforementioned would send my 5’6” 122 pound female self into panic mode. It probably should, but I’m thinking nah.

Anyway, I enjoyed AMLP, but with a few aversions:

1. The writing style is TERRIBLE. Frey randomly capitalizes words inappropriately; the rules of punctuation are completely ignored; and run-on sentences are his bread and butter. Seriously, if you remotely lose your place you'd never know because most of his inner dialogue is repetitive gibberish.

2. The chapters are phenomenally long, and there are no "stopping places" to alleviate that fact. I don't have as much of a problem with that as some, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.

3. The back cover reads, "At the age of 23, James Frey woke up on a plane to find his four front teeth knocked out, his nose broken, and a hole through his cheek. He had no idea where the plane was headed or any recollection of the past two weeks..." Yet the cause of those injuries are never explained. They are vaguely alluded to after a conversation he has with a friend while in the treatment facility, but never explained. I realize that Frey may still have no memory of that incident, but I would've appreciated a more detailed acknowledgement of such lack of memory and/or further explanation of how he ended up in rehab. (Obviously he belonged in rehab, so I don't mean the no-brainer explanation. If he was truly as hard-core as he depicts himself, I would assume there was some kind of "defining" moment that lead him to rehab. The book doesn't explain that).

4. Several passages made me truly sick to my stomach, examples follow:

a. I'd like to believe that the root canal procedure with no anesthesia was fabricated (I can't imagine either my father or brother - both dentists - ever doing anything so barbaric no matter the circumstances).

b. One of Frey's repetitive self-punishments involved him ripping off one of his toenails. I skipped more than three pages due to their gory description of his self-mutilation. I was gagging on the elliptical machine. There is absolutely no convincing argument I can imagine for including such a painstakingly detailed account of one's removal of a completely intact toenail by an obviously sick individual.

Bottom line: I recommend this book. I enjoyed it. As I said earlier, I don't know how I would feel had I believed it to be complete non-fiction. Nonetheless, the story is truly sad and surprisingly uplifting. I particularly respect Frey's adamant refusal to adopt "the 12 steps." He rebelled against the norm and found his own path to healing.

James Frey has reportedly never relapsed.

Zoe in costume #2

This is likely the last outfit Zoe will tolerate for a while.

She really didn't like this one and the frog costume has even less "fasteners" to keep the costume in place, so I'd rather not subject her to misery when I most likely won't get a photo anyway.

Notice how peeved she looks in photo #3.

I was completely shocked that she sat still as long as she did. I should say still, but shivering. I have no idea what caused her shaking - anger, fear or irritation. All I can say is that she was quite grateful for the removal of the "bunny cape."

Good luck dog

My friend Kathy loves to surprise me with random gifts, and on Monday she showed up with 3 little outfits for Zoe.

Below you'll find Zoe in her new bright green shamrock tee. Zoe wasn't completely against my putting the tiny shirt on her, but she generally does not like to be clothed. And Kathy still wonders why Zoe tends to bite her. (Please take no offense Kathy! You're not alone!)




Stay tuned for the bunny and frog outfits - assuming I can get them on my terror of a terrier long enough to snap a photo!

Face your demons - with eye candy

TNT began airing Supernatural just after the new year. I became a huge fan in 2006 after catching up on the first season via Netflix.

When my mom broke her ankle in three places just before Christmas '09, she became fairly homebound and has since become addicted to the hottie ghostbusters. I'm beginning to think 10 am is her favorite time of day.

It's quite funny. We exchange e-mails often to discuss recent plot twists. One of my favorite exchanges came at the end of a "Non-Supernatural" e-mail after which mom exclaimed, "GROSS! The older brother just shed his skin!" I'm sure you had to be there (see/read there?) but I still have that e-mail and read it when I'm having a bad day.

On Sunday my parents came to take me out to breakfast - and to bring my dad's nifty "stair-friendly ladder." I needed the ladder to hang my mom's lovely wall-piece I've had for years. It required a transplant and I thought the stairwell would be perfect. I'm pretty sure she made it when I was about 9-years-old. After hanging it, my dad said to my mom, "you need to make another one for us!" I LOVE it - not just because my mom made it, but because she made it at the beginning of her artistic career. She's come a long way, but I still love this piece. To me it is priceless!

But anyway, back to the hotter versions of Venkman/Stantz/Spengler; mom and I had the opportunity to squeeze in a couple of Supernatural episodes from my DVR while my dad embarked on his daily marathon walk. Great fun. I wish I could watch the new ones with her every week!

Supernatural is kind of like Buffy the Vampire Slayer - the perfect mix of drama and comedy - but "SN" (as referenced in my mom's e-mails to/from me) is far more visually appealing to us girls. I'm pretty sure it doesn't get much better than Jensen Ackles.

I was quite pleased to hear SN has been picked up for a 6th season. Watch new episodes on the CW network Thursdays at 9 pm.

Quote of the day

"It's completely usual for me to get up in the morning, take a look around, and laugh out loud."

- Barbara Kingsolver, High Tide in Tucson: Essays From Now or Never

Mostly it's the simple things: Zoe spastastically rooting around on her bed for no apparent reason; Bailey doing an imaginary doggie-version of the Charleston; realizing it's Saturday (as opposed to a work day) a little too late more often than I would like.

It's a house full of daily chuckles here.

A note on telecommuting

On days that I telecommute (work from home), I am most definitely working. In fact, I always get more work done at home than I do in the office. Nevertheless, it is apparent that some view these days as less than working days.

Case in point, I arrived at work Wednesday morning to the following e-mail,

"This morning the fire alarm system triggered the fire suppression system in the data center, causing an immediate power shut down.
At this time, we are working with all of the emergency responders and the fire department to restore power to the data center.
We will provide an update when we have more information."

One of my supervisors advised me to go home, as I would be able to connect to the internet and my e-mail from there. I then advised my assistant to do the same.

But as I was leaving and saying my goodbyes, more than one person said, "See ya! Have a nice..."
I can only assume the words on their lips were "day off."

Such assumptions are incorrect and extremely infuriating. I can only describe those who believe that "working" has everything to do with location (sitting at a desk in a cubicle in a suite in a building) as ignorant and behind the times.

Seriously, I might get to wear my pajamas, work from my bed or with a dog under my feet, but that doesn't mean I'm not working!!! Not to mention that I'm doing my part to reduce my carbon footprint by driving less.

Maybe it would help if I started using my supervisor's terminology: teleWORKING.

Word of the day

nocturnal

noc·tur·nal
Pronunciation: \näk-ˈtərnl\
adjective

1 : of, relating to, or occurring in the night
2 : active at night

Of course everyone knows what nocturnal means, but I chose this word because it perfectly describes me. I am the quintessential night owl.