Wednesday, June 27, 2007



Every once in a while I feel as if I’m trapped. I feel as if I’m in a cave and I get ever so frustrated. I feel as if that behemothic wrinkle between my furrowed brow is about to crack (Botox would fix that! Spouse?) Today however, I woke up with the giant rain cloud and realized that I’m going to blow that giant cloud with the enthusiasm of all the choices I get to make. Are you ready?

Should I forget I have plantar fasciitis or do my stretches? Better do my stretches. It might be contagious and we don’t need four of us around here with screaming heels.

It’s 7:00am, the kids went to bed at 11:30, should I shower now or should I go mess with some photos and surf for lenses? Mess with some photos and surf for lenses.

Spouse came down to my make-believe photo lab and should I send him away or ask him to get his nifty tripod? Go get the tripod.

Should I forget I have plantar fasciitis or do my stretches? Better do my stretches. Not running has turned my attitude into a bathtub drain (although music and Flash Gordon and shoes and xanax are all plugs...)

Kids are awake, should I prepare breakfast now or wait until they completely melt from low blood sugar? Wait for them to melt.

Should I water the flowers first or clean the kitchen? Water the flowers and let the ADD kick in so as you forget the kitchen needs to be cleaned.

Should I forget I have plantar fasciitis or do my stretches? Better do my stretches. It’ll give me the chance to philosophize the importance of rounded corners in home construction.

Should I yell at the kids to finish their jobs or should I patiently wait for them to fail and issue an appropriate consequence? Yell at the kids.

Should we go to the pool and loose child #1’s goggles or should we stay home and watch the paint peel? Go to the pool and loose the goggles.

Should I forget I have plantar fasciitis or do my stretches? Better do my stretches. There’s a marathon in October!

Should I go back to the photo lab/office and work or should I blog? Blog.

So many choices… let’s hear about yours!

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Photoshop 101

Here's my first attempt at doing something useful in photoshop.



Tuesday, June 19, 2007



A colloquialism is a phrase with a meaning that makes no sense logically (hmmm, I wonder why that sounds so familiar?). Anyway, I’ve been thinking of a few and thought I’d discover their origin. Most of the information below was derived from my favorite web site (I’m not about to plagiarize, the plagiarpolice will come for me).

More Than One Way to Skin a Cat – This is a good one. The phrase was originally said “there are more ways of killing a cat than choking it with cream” or “there are more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with butter.” Somehow it evolved into the skinning the cat version because skinning a cat is more fun than choking it. It's a good thing too, 'cause Spouse would not waste his precious butter choking a cat. It appears to me that Mark Twain made it famous by using it in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. This phrase means that when you go hunting, you better take two types of weapons or if you go shopping, take two credit cards (one of them might be over-extended).

Cat Scratch Fever – Ted Nugent. Created after Free For All.

Dead as a Doornail – This one has a bunch of history. Are you ready? First, the term was used somewhere around 1350 and was made famous by our little buddy William when he used it in Henry IV. They say this one has lasted so long because saying “Dead as a Doornail” has a nice poetic rhythm to it (as opposed to saying “dead as a nail” or “dead as that one lady down the street” or “dead as dead if there ever were a dead.”) There are several theories about this one. My favorite theory comes from carpentry when a nail was hammered through something. The something would then be turned over and the back of the nail would be hammered down against the item so that it couldn’t be pulled out easily. This is presumed to be a dead doornail. You mean carpenters you… killin’ all those nails!

Hell in a Handbasket – Not a lot of history on this one. It is known to be a newer American phrase that means something will happen quickly. Using a basket to carry items will allow you to do so with efficient accuracy. Unless of course you have a red hood and you’re in the forest… then the basket is a dead giveaway.

Raining Cats and Dogs – There are a few theories on this one. One of them is that people use to have thatched roofs in which dogs and cats would hide. When it rained, the water would drain through the roof and the cats and dogs would jump out. Another theory is derived from mythology whereby cats and dogs had influence over storms and so when it rained, the dogs and cats were urinating with extreme contempt (maybe Vera was a cat or dog in a previous life).

The Proof Is In the Pudding – Now this one doesn’t make any sense at all. To me it sounds like they’re trying to mix photography and instant desserts. Anyway, the history comes from the word Proof meaning Test. So in order to see if something is correct you need to test it or proof (prove) it. But no one really knows why pudding was chosen instead of say a side of beef (the proof is in the side of beef!) or casserole (the proof is in the casserole! – although this one cannot be used because we all know that you can hide anything in a casserole, so there’s no proving anything there).

My guess for the pudding choice? Before they figured out that horse hooves made good gelatin, it was extremely difficult to get pudding to graduate from the runny stage to the more favorable gelatinous stage. So getting nice thick pudding was proof that you did something right. If my kids turn into thick chocolaty gelatinous beings, does that mean I’m a good parent? I'm sure the PS2 and Hershey can assist me with this.

If you have more suggestions for other colloquialisms, please by all means comment. I’d be happy to do the research.

Friday, June 08, 2007

Thot on Friendship


No matter how thin you slice it, there are two sides to a peice of cheese - even if both sides are moldy.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Martha Meth


I have more dumb hobbies than I have time for. My latest hobby is a fascination with photoshop and this has by far proved to be the most time-consuming. I could easily burn a lifetime selecting, adding filters, adjusting, layering, dodging, patching and quick correcting. But due to that crazy little thing called “responsibility” (you thought I was going to say that crazy little thing called love, didn’t you? Don't you love Queen?)... due to that crazy little thing called responsibility, I don’t exactly have a lifetime to burn in photoshop.

So the other night, I had this brilliant idea. I’ll get up early in the morning and burn part of my day "burning". I set the alarm for 4:30 and went to bed pumped. As usual, I became coma-toast the minute the hairs hit the pillow and the next thing I knew the alarm went off (you all know what I’m talking about, right? Sometimes I wish that I’d be blessed with insomnia). Anyway, the alarm goes off and you know what I do? I walk across the room, turn the rattling thing off and go back to bed. (See I have to place it strategically so as I have to get up and walk a bit to turn it off. If I do not, unbeknownst to me, the snooze is slapped until Spouse gets mad and threatens to slap me).

If only I didn’t need 7 hours of sleep each night to make it through the day. I heard once that Martha Stewart sleeps around 3-4 hours a night. Wow! That would be beyond awesome. It occurred to me that she can’t do this by herself and must be partaking some substance. It’s Martha Meth (you can see it in her complexion) and I want some. Here’s my first attempt at a recipe.

Martha Meth

  • 1 cup crème fresh
  • 14 leaves of your favorite herbs (pronounced “herbs” not “erbs”)
  • 3 zests of your finest lemons
  • 1 brown egg retrieved from your chicken named Gladys
  • 80 cloves of garlic (if this doesn’t keep you awake, at least it’ll keep anyone from sleeping WITH you)
  • 1 whole chicken* (not Gladys, you’ll need her to provide for tomorrow’s breakfast)
  • 2 Tbs course salt
  • Caper berries

In a 14.8 quart sauce pan, whip crème fresh and add herbs. Add tres lemon zest while repeating your favorite witchy craft chant (if you need help finding your favorite, talk to Vera). Beat egg in a separate bowl until it screams and add to sauce. Pound garlic cloves into chicken with your favorite cleaver (you know the one Spouse stupidly gave you for Christmas? Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the cleaver, but it can be a mighty fine weapon). Add pounded chicken and garlic to sauce pan and sprinkle with salt. Torch it all with one of those blow torch crème brulee thingees and garnish with caper berries.

*Feel free to substitue soggy grape leaves if you cannot find a kosher chicken.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Door to Door Sales Persons


I have a sign on my door that says “NO SOLICITING,” but somehow the cleaning solution people, the refinance your mortgage people, the security system people and the poor newspaper boy cannot read it. Maybe they can’t read it or maybe they don’t quite understand that the “NO SOLICITING” sign means – Listen Sister Christian, don’t ring the door bell, don’t waste oxygen on your schpill because we are stingy and we won’t buy your whatever.

For the benefit of the community, I’ve decided to come up with 10 things that you can tell unwanted (are any of them wanted?) Some have been used.

1) I’ve got hats in the dryer.
2) My dad sells this stuff and I’m loyal to my family (this one actually works well).
3) I do customer support and OH! can't you hear the phone ring?
4) Will it cure (insert your favorite ailment – Gout, Gone to Korea, toenail fungus)?
5) Does that come with ammunition for my 708 Wism?
6) Spouse won’t let me and he controls everything he’s so mean.
7) We’re unemployed and we have cancer.
8) I’m cooking meth.
9) Pretend you’re schizophrenic and have a conversation with your other twin about whether or not you should buy it (this one is particularly easy for me).

And Finally…

Go to Stu and Vera’s house. They’ll buy anything.