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(03.09.2010)
Yes, this is an entirely emotional response to the recent news. Funny thing, I tend to get that way when I worry about DYING.
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(2.15.10)
This September 11, my parents will have been married 45 years, and my dad is still writing poems to my mom. (Sure, they're poems about RVs but still! Poems!)
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(12.21.09)
I hated it all the more because my parents and my older sister were never put through its monkey tail paces. Oh no, D'Nealian was some new-fangled hippie handwriting philosophy saved only for me. I even hated the NAME "D'Nealian," because it kinda sounded foreign and exotic but it wasn't. It was just some totally made-up name constructed from the inventor's first name, "Donald," and his middle name, "Neal."
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(12.20.09)
My parents always said stuff like, "the family" and "that everyone's healthy." We'd roll our eyes at "family" because it just seemed so dorky and over emotional. It also seemed to go without saying. Like, of COURSE we were grateful for family, so why bother mentioning it?
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(11.30.09)
All the tracks are transcribed in a different pastel color from a rotating click pen I had. We've got lavender, electric blue, fuchsia, and neon green going on in true high school girl fashion. The mix begins with Chicago's "You're the Inspiration," and ends with "Wonderful Tonight."
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(10.4.09)
Now that I've had just over three and a half months to calm down, slow down, get some sleep, get my head on straight,* and even get a little work done, it's time for overdue thanks.
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(09.16.09)
Vanessa is really quite normal. I mean, there are times when she says things to me like, "But she was humming and hawing over it, so I just let it drop," and "And you know, once he did that, it was, like, just rubbing salt in the womb, you know?" which make me wonder if we really should have put a helmet on her when the whole rocking thing started, but, as of today, she's made it to 28 years relatively intact.
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(06.08.09)
Aside the fact that you're walking around as a two people for 9-10 months and that you probably have family and a partner involved, pregnancy can still get lonely.
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(06.06.09)
I wish I could believe that something like hypnobirthing would really work for me -- I'm not totally sure what hypnobirthing is, but I think it has something to do with clucking like a chicken through your labor pain -- but I'm too much of a cynic.
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(06.01.09)
You know what I really want people to stop doing? Stop telling me I'm going to care less about my cats after the baby is here. No, no. Just stop it. Take your hand off the computer, discard the "instructional" or "helpful" email you're about to send. Close your mouth.
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(05.28.09)
B. You get a intimate look at other people's relationships, and it's not always pretty.
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(05.01.09)
A note on our Safeway brand of anti-bacterial gel: it smells exactly like my homemade limoncello, which is sending me very mixed signals.
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(04.27.09)
We are too immature for birth class.
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(04.22.09)
The day it hit 102° on the Peninsula in April was the day I did something I haven't been able to do in 6 months of pregnancy: I took a bath.
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(04.21.09)
We're both pretty sure our parents had none of the child-proofing devices that were being passed around the classroom.
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(04.15.09)
Dr. Mathra's face will be the new miracle drug. Apparently.
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(03.03.09)
Sometimes I'm not even just feeling it from the inside, either. If my hand happens to be on my belly at the time, I'll actually feel a brief push out, and that really freaks me out. Because the movements are coming from inside the house!
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(03.24.09)
When I buy a book, I feel compelled to finish it no matter how sick I am of the writer whining for page after page that her mother is to blame for her weight, her sexual predilections, and why she can't wash the dishes.
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(02.24.09)
It's pretty much a waddle, and I've been noticing that I'm doing it more and more these days. I'm not trying to do it, so when I first noticed I was doing it, I wondered if it was like the hand-on-belly thing -- sort of an unintentional signal to the world that I was pregnant.
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(02.23.09)
2. "If the vampire's left sock is in one's possession, the sock can be filled with rocks and earth from the vampire's grave and tossed into running water. The vampire will wander off in search of its sock and accidentally drown itself."
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(02.22.09)
It's not that I'm not girly. I am. I curl my hair, I wear makeup -- even on my eyes -- I slather all manner of creams and masques on my face, and I have been known to get the occasional facial.
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(02.13.09)
Another crib from the "Nightlight Gallery."
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(02.12.09)
I'm not sure what this says about me or my psychological issues, but this crib absolutely terrifies me. Like, to a nightmarish degree.
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(01.26.09)
Then I had to consider how I wrote "I'm pregnant" to friends. For some, it was "I'm pregnant!" and for others it was "I'm pregnant." I don't know why I felt like using the exclamation point for certain people and not others. Maybe because an exclamation point can feel like an command. Something that says, "I'm excited and I ORDER you to be excited for me!"
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(12.26.08)
Jennie and I would start by playing King of the Hill. We'd struggle on the slippery snow mounds, try knock each other into the snowy street and sidewalk, and then claim sides where we would build our fortresses complete with parapets, balconies, and turrets.
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(12.23.08)
Sure, driving to school in a car that a. never heated up until we reached the parking lot; and b. fishtailed every time I took a corner was a pain in the ass. But I did it. I could and can do it! I walked to school uphill both ways naked and in bare feet and I lived to brag about it!
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(12.15.08)
TURN DOWN THE DAMN COMMERCIALS!
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(12.12.08)
'Tis the season to buy perfume.
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(11.29.08)
Waking up in an entirely different place.
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(11.22.08)
"What have we gotten ourselves into?"
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(11.11.08)
My parents were shocked (SHOCKED!) when Ms. Eckert -- she was one of those Mizzez who seemed to require the extra stress on the title -- told them at parent-teacher conferences that their daughter -- the one who fell down for no reason, ran into walls, and acquired multiple bruises in odd locations with no memory of how they got there but with suspicions that it was from walking into a coffee table or car fender -- was actually quite agile and coordinated on the dance floor.
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(11.4.08)
Are you ready?
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(10.27.08)
...but the image of this Grampa Jones type striking out with his cane, like the kid is some street urchin hovering around 221 B Baker Street, and Grampa Jones in a carriage that would put Mr. Darcy's to shame is so ripe for late-night talk show jibes that if any of them fail to do something with it, well, then they just fail.
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(10.16.08)
From pin to hat to sweatshirt -- I'm cleaning up on the NPS swag.
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(10.11.08)
How waiting for a television season to release belatedly on DVD has turned me into a Netflix hoarder.
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(10.09.08)
For 12 weeks now, I've been going out there to weed, plant, clear brush, mend fences (no, really!), and generally roll around in the mist-drifted mud.
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(10.07.08)
So, yeah, I used to respect McCain. I was close to calling myself a "McCain Democrat." Now he just makes me sick.
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(10.04.08)
Take a gander at this C-SPAN video (it's not boring!) if you want to see why exactly I fell for Joe Biden in 2004.
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(09.23.08)
Thank you everyone who supported us. Not only did you whip us into shape but you helped us raise a flock of money for breast cancer awareness. You also got me to the point where I'm going out on a run today in spite of the blisters garnered from last night's three-hour bowling session!
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(09.17.08)
...Four more of our friends will also be walking to support the cause and after it's all over, we're going for a large brunch to celebrate. (Preferably outside so Sam and I don't put everyone off their feed.)
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(09.09.08)
It's sort of Flatliners meets Brannon Braga's D.O.A. Threshold but marries Luke's Empire Strikes Back arm, cheats on it with Miracles, and leaves it for Quantum Leap's selfless mission.
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(08.28.08)
Last week I signed up to do something I've never done before: run a 5k. And you know what? I hate running. Like, I really, really, HATE it! However, I'm not running (or walking, if the mind is willing, but the shins are weak) this race for pure pleasure or personal glory. I'm not running it to get a good time or a toned butt. I'm running it to raise awareness and money for breast cancer.
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(08.20.08)
People who say that cats are disinterested and standoffish are idiots. One of my childhood cats, Nutsy, couldn't bear any family member being sad. Soon after someone started crying, they would get a visit from Nusty. He'd trot into the bedroom, kitchen, or bathroom and stare with green eyes out of a black face. "Don't cry," those eyes would say, "There's really no need, because I am here now."
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(08.18.08)
The one where they all play Invasion of the Body Snatchers and learn more than they ever needed to know about each others' bodily functions. Sadly, Zhaan misses all the fun while dallying with a pair of corrosive Jell-O-vomiting Skeksis.
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(08.06.08)
Every time I sit down to an assignment, I'm completely convinced that this is the time when all words fail. This is the time when I realize that I'm a complete fraud who has somehow gotten by for nine years pretending to be a writer. I'm convinced that I will never write funny again. It spirals. And I really don't have proper appreciation for spirals because I have veritgo and they make me nauseous.
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(07.30.08)
Gigs you never thought existed: rewriting Japanese culinary graphic novels and coming up with your own sound effects for slicing open a fish belly. (It's "slisssh," by the way.)
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(07.28.08)
Bob Novak's Grey's Anatomy and hating on July.
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(07.25.08)
Recapping, marital mimics, and rediscovering a stinky old favorite.
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(07.24.08)
12:30-5:00 AM: Get up repeatedly to check that door is triple locked. Consider the ramifications of leaving all kitchen knives on counter since one would have to pass by front door before reaching any defensive objects. Consider putting chef's knife in bedside table drawer but worry about temporary amnesia and subsequent self-slicing when rummaging around for Breathe-Right strips.
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(07.18.08)
The new Psych season premieres tonight and I am singing "Ebony and Ivory" while eating pineapple. (What? It's not racist -- click through and watch the fantabulistic promo. You know you want to.)
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(07.17.08)
It has come to my attention that we in this household, we in this tiny apartment on Alamo Square Park, well, we have a pattern of forming oddly strong attachments to inanimate objects.
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(06.30.08)
Look, if you had one called the "Bounce Breaker," you'd sing about it too.
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(06.11.08)
Without that person with the curled bob and feathered bangs who once wore elbow-length black gloves and pantyhose with the seam up the back to Homecoming, I wouldn't be who I am now.
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(06.05.08)
Gone are the musing days and working nights with my butt slung inches from the floor while my knees hew dangerously close to my ears. No longer will I stretch and strain my neck forward, stacking four pillows behind my lower back to summon up some semblance of a normal posture. Couch has eased my pain.
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(05.22.08)
The Empire giving everyone "a hard time"? Bobba Fett as a "small cartoon"? Bea Arthur as someone named Ackmena? Diahanne Carroll as a hologram called Wow? And Art Carney and Harvey Korman as well? Wait, are we sure this isn't just a Star Wars skit in The Carol Burnett Show?
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(05.15.08)
I'm sitting in the dark of my apartment trying so hard not to move. Even the minor task of typing five fingers across a keyboard, is sending rivulets of sweat coursing down my torso. I'm thisclose to stripping off every last damp article here and now, except that I have to do laundry and I'm afraid that once I take my clothes off I won't be able to get them back on. (I'm also afraid that I'll forget I'm naked and just go about business as usual.)
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(04.26.08)
Back on speakerphone, I told them that an ex-boyfriend of mine made a habit of naming pets for cars, so I wouldn't agree to it. When my parents wondered why I got to have any say in the matter at all, I self-righteously reminded them how Dad cheated me out of naming Vanessa before she was born.
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(04.20.08)
It turns out that Dad wasn't so interested in the biting Mr. Boots. It also turns out that his name was Mr. Mittens, prompting me to call him "Mr. Bittens" forever more. It further and finally turns out that while he bit my dad, he didn't bite Nessa when she got him out of his cage. "I don't think Dad knows how to get the cats out," she whispered to me.
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(04.13.08)
"I want to go back to the shelter today and see Gekko," Dad said. "Her name is 'Gatto,' not GEKKO!" Mom reminded him loudly and probably not for the first time. "Her name is going to be 'Crabby,' apparently," I added. "We're getting a cat we BOTH like," Mom informed us. "Gekko's cage didn't have a comment card at all," Dad mused, "I wonder if that's a bad thing."
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(03.27.08)
As a final irony, when writers/executive producers of a show I recap finally write me with glowing praise, it would have to be a doomed show. Of course.
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(03.17.08)
The thing is, it's highly likely that I will never be 100% pure green because there are simply some things I draw the line at as being too, sort of, icky. Like the bathroom behavior rhyme, "If it's yellow let it mellow," etc. and resisting showers and using only natural deodorant and pretty much everything that guy is doing in Manhattan without toilet paper. And I definitely draw the line at eating things that have grown out of my own pee and bathing in mulch.
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(02.25.08)
I normally don't engage in these sort of "memes," because I tend to find them cheesy and of no interest to my readers. Plus, there are some things I write that, when I read them later, make me harf like Chet in Weird Science after he tells his brother he loves him. (I have the same reaction when I read my poetry-phase journals from junior high.)
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(02.20.08)
In the war of the music videos, Obama is Death Cab for Cutie, and Hillary is John Tesh.
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(02.18.08)
... but the Regency was more about figure-revealing Empire waistlines -- some forward females of the time even used water to "dampen down" their gowns for their version of a wet tee-shirt contest -- and less about virginal Victorian crinolines and prodigious petticoats.
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(02.05.08)
This is the most important election of our lifetime, and I've been ready for change for 8 long years. Are you ready?
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(01.27.08)
And what's up with that impersonal, silky red background? Is this PBS classic drama or is it a "My Moment, My Dove" commercial?
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(1.09.08)
I don't make 'em.
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(11.08.07)
This morning -- because of some sort of communications malfunction between the container ship spokespeople and the U.S. Coast Guard -- the spill has been upped to a whopping 58,000 gallons.
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(09.14.07)
I showed the device it to my husband who said, "Don't you dare stick that in your computer! It's like sticking your tongue in a socket -- you don't know where it's been!"
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(08.26.07)
However, then the realist in me took over: Top Chef knew exactly what they were doing. They were using "food blogger" as a dirty word. The bane of chefs everywhere. More to the point, Top Chef, in their reality show way, decided that for these two episodes Andrea Strong has been cast as The Villain.
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(08.07.07)
Finally, the emergency squad screamed up and a park ranger met them saying, "We got a foot injury." Now, is that "foot injury" as in "I stepped wrong and my ankle collapsed" or as in "my foot got stuck in the jaws of a Great White and now it is injured"?
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(07.25.07)
The good thing about that MRI appears to be, however, that it's not a brain tumor! WOOHOO! Celebration of non-tumorosity! I mean, I assume that's not the case since my ENT didn't call me within 24 hours of my MRI to be all George Brent to my Bette Davis about it. After that, the next step was the Balance and Mobility Clinic where, I had been reliably informed, I would vomit copiously.
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(07.20.07)
I DIDN'T REQUEST A REDELIVERY! [foam, pant, twitch, scream]
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(06.08.07)
Acting on information we received from our CBS source, "Shallow Eustachian Tube," I was able to transcribe what went down in the heated meetings between the execs at CBS, and if you read between the lines, you can see just what dragged Jericho, Skeet, and the Awesome Hawkins back from the brink of television death.
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(05.17.07)
I'm asking all of you who read The Grub Report, like The Grub Report, and even crave The Grub Report to get out and eat the vote! Or just vote, you really don't have to eat it. Because it might be gross. And also sounds sort of rude.
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(04.16.07)
Why does this happen? How THE FUCK does this happen? College is supposed to be the best years of your lives. Not the deadliest. Not the last.
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(02.18.07)
Look, Jericho is not smart, it's not challenging, and it doesn't make me think overly deep thoughts about life, death, and philosophy. It makes me giggle and it makes me cheer for surprisingly shallow reasons. It also doesn't feel like homework, which -- hold on to your toasters -- BSG has started to feel of late. I need these dumb, peaceful shows to quiet my mind.
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(01.14.07)
My life is not my own. As a freelancer every day, every hour, and nearly every thought is slotted to one of my clients. It's a hellacious fallacy that freelancing is all about choosing your own hours and owning your time.
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(11.20.06)
So, many cocktails and cocktail onions later, my project? She is done. Introducing the newest SmartsCo product, which just happens to be written by moi, I give you CocktailSmarts!
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(11.18.06)
Today is my birthday and today my beloved Michigan Wolverines are about to play the game of the year, possibly the game of the decade.
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(10.16.06)
Except, back then it was a 1973 Mercury Comet, and I drove with the windows down because AC hadn't been a choice in the Vomit Comet for about ten years.
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(08.24.06)
I swear the only thing keeping me sane is runs at Ocean Beach, Tim Gunn's podcast, and reruns of Reba. That's right, people, I said Reba! The stress has made me sink so, so low.
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(06.24.06)
For a long time I ran without looking up. I was mesmerized by my own footfalls and how they struck the damp, packed sand, radiating a lighter, drier patch in every direction, and how the June-icy Pacific hits the sun-warmed beach, banding mist around my ankles.
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(05.30.06)
Prince is a god.
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(03.22.06)
The words were the same words printed in the hymnal, but that's where the similarities between Croft's version of "Our God Our Help in Ages Past" and my father's ended.
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(03.16.06)
Rachel Ray would talk, cook, and drink so fast, her attending celebrities wouldn't know how to help or where to stand. They'd be even more mystified as to what the hell "E-V-O-O" and "spoonulas" were. On the other hand, her team would always beat the clock due to Rachel carrying back-spraining armloads of ingredients from place to place.
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(02.22.06)
If I told you that we kissed the hood of our new car in the privacy of our garage, would you judge me?
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(02.10.06)
Blogging a boring commute and too many people making an explosive cocktail of warm Diet Pepsi and Mentos. Kids do the darndest things!
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(06.09.05)
I'm back from Minnesota and I'm full. Wow. I don't think I stopped eating the whole time I was there. No Smokebeer sightings, but maybe next time.
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(12.31.04)
Two days, 180 miles down a mountain pass at five miles an hour with a visibility of 100 yards, two sets of snow chains, two massive Sierra blizzards with avalanche conditions, seven hours on the road, and six cups of mulled wine in our dry and snowless SF apartment later
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(12.30.04)
Last year, dear eaters, you might remember that I was unquestionably and irrationally saddened by the lack of snow in the Bay Area and that my husband made a promise to take me up to Tahoe in search of snow
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(09.22.04)
Ever since my last day at the cheeseshop when I came over all faint, got nauseous, took the bus home and threw up, I've had persistent vertigo. Thankfully it's not as bad as the initial attack, because
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(09.14.04)
Dr. Mathra said to me, "You're really going to see a cross-section of the SF public." I don't know what he's talking about, I take the MUNI every day. Jury duty's not at all like waiting in a queue at
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(CREDIT)
Lime Kiln Point Light. It's a great place to watch various whale pods come in from sea. Sadly, we didn't see any that day. Come quick, there's a deer eating fruit from the orchard! Oh, come on -- just
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(06.23.04)
Nine years ago I went to study in England. My family came with me. I kept a journal. "Stephie? I wanted to call and remind you to bring all the Cambridge info I sent last week. We have copies here
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(06.21.04)
Here are some shots of the two balls of fuzz that wake us up at six in the morning, drape their purring bodies over us, and generally rule our world.
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(04.16.04)
I'm gonna be on TV! I'm gonna be on TV! I'm gonna be on TV! I'm doing a little dance over here. Okay, so TechTV is doing a behind-the-scenes look at Television Without Pity and they want to interview
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(02.10.04)
When you meet for the first time, you go through your closet, pulling out all sorts of outfits. Do you go for hip and professional or smart and classic? You stand on one leg and judge the effects with
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(02.03.04)
Sit on your mat in a simple cross-legged position. Remove the partially-masticated cat treat you sat on. Breathe. Twist comfortably to the left. Breathe. Walk your hands a comfortable distance in front
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(01.08.04)
Several months ago when I was showing our Boston apartment, this prospective renter asked me if I ever considered doing stand-up. Not thinking I'd been cracking one-liners every five minutes as I show
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(01.01.04)
(tug) (tug) Hey... (tug) Hey! (TUG!) Did you know it doesn't snow in San Francisco? Apparently I didn't, because nothing else can explain my disappointment in this year's holiday season thus far.
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(12.10.03)
'Tis the season for TWoP Con Recaps, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-SNARK! Mathra and I came late to the Las Vegas gathering this year -- writing an exam and generally small purse strings due to such an
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(09.25.03)
11:30 AM This has been a week of highs and lows. I can't talk about the highs yet because I don't want to jinx it, but the lows all center around me sitting outside my apartment door, listening to the
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(09.15.03)
Recently, it came to my attention that a person, who shall remain nameless but with whom I am acquainted, slagged off on English majors. This person said that "Everyone's an English major," and "Being
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(09.02.03)
I naïvely thought that coming out to California meant each entry on The Grub Report would be bursting with heirloom tomatoes, local cheeses, artisan breads, vats of wine, and blue potatoes, but no. No
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(08.30.03)
3100 miles. Five days. Fifty-three driving hours. Twelve states. Two cats. That's gotta be some kind of record -- we even left really late on our first day. It's all due to Dr. Mathra's superb driving
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(03.31.03)
Going home is good for the soul. I'd hazard that it's even better than a visit to a spa for all their hot and smelly rocks. I've come back to Boston refreshed, happy, and calmly nostalgic. The zennish
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(02.03.03)
Mathra woke me up with the news. It seems so trite to say I couldn't believe it. But I couldn't -- not again. Not now. Not ever. But our friends had a baby that morning. Little Jackson woke to life as
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(01.29.03)
I avoided it all last semester. Around me, students succumbed like snarfing trees felled by a phlegmy form of Dutch Elm disease. I wore a surgical mask, held my breath on the T, and carried on. Until
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(12.08.02)
I don't think Las Vegas and I will ever be true friends. We might respect one another. We may even occasionally nod to each other in passing. But we can never have a deep and lasting FF or SWAK- kind
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(10.21.02)
Witches, screaming skulls, stuffed corpses on the front lawn, you name it -- no one does Halloween better than my mother. "It's my favorite religious holiday," she says every year. "Don't tell your father
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(10.09.02)
I have the best posters on TWoP Enterprise. I really do. Today, I came home from class and found they had been composing poetry about me in my "Fleet Commendation for Recapping Goes to Keckler" thread
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(10.01.02)
Cats and bathrooms. Someone please explain the connection to me. And use scientific terms, because that's the only way I'll believe there is a valid explanation other than the fact that one of my cats
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(10.01.02)
First it was a green woody station wagon. Next it was a silver station wagon. Then it was a woody Grand Caravan mini-van, and another one after that. Now it's an RV. Thankfully, I've never gone cross-country
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(09.25.02)
In the Still of the Night, You can hear the zanzibub trees whisper Calling to you in their hushamung way, greatly grimping with the wind.
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(09.25.02)
In the summer of nine-zero There would have been great need of a hero, To save a small craft (Whose skipper was thought daft) To sail it in the wrath Of Superior. On the eve of this night His daughter
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(09.25.02)
your scent lingered on me and mixed with my own I no longer smell the same since I met you mine is not mine and I am no longer solely me
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(09.25.02)
A vast canvas Her awesome mind can smear hectic colors, streaks of mist heaving billows no shutter can capture nor hand imitate Her reveries my pen stutters for trying
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(09.25.02)
We've passed into Mountain Time the sun has saturated the crimson depths and we've passed into Mountain Time the moon rises, taking bloodless steps and we've passed into Mountain Time is there a real
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(09.25.02)
I walk through the haunted garden of long ago, Passing each dry, leaf covered bed where loving hands
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