97 THINGS TO DO BEFORE I TURN 97

Accomplishment Not in the Book... But Awesome Nonetheless.

2012-01-21T12:21:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, sometimes I Accomplish stuff that's not one of these 97 Things. I know, I know, that's hard to believe considering how infrequently I update -- you'd think that I don't Accomplish anything. I do, I swear! Sometimes I do dishes and laundry and wear matching shoes. I've been known to throw a great party, put together a fabulous Halloween costume, and... Okay, I can't think of anything else. I should be figuring out how to ride a horse (#93)and make a podcast (#49) and climb a mountain (#47), but... I'm not there yet.

To be honest, my main Accomplishment for 2012 is writing. My dear friend Dottie (who along with the fabulous Alix does one of the best blog around, Modern Kiddo!), said to me, "Lady, 2012 is the year of THE BOOK." And I do have some big plans!

But the thought of opening a blank Word document and starting to type can be daunting. And then to actually SHOW someone and then SEND it somewhere scares the bejeebus out of me. But last Saturday, I was poking around on munidiaries.com, a fantastic San Francisco site about the local public transit system, that has everything from updates, riders' photos and readers' stories. My friends run it and they do a GREAT job.

Well, my most-told story in my arsenal of, well, most-told stories happened on my old commute when I lived in The Richmond in San Francisco. So I thought, "What the hell" and opened a blank Word Doc and began to type. And since I've told it so many times and remember it so clearly and so fondly, the words just flowed. And a few minutes later, my story was finished.

Before I could actually second-guess myself, and let all the usual self-doubt creep in and stop me, I hit send. And then I let the self doubt and fear creep in. But I was so proud of myself -- I did it! I sent something out for someone to read and decide if they liked it enough to use it! People, that was a Big Deal for me.

So on Thursday, I got a post on my facebook wall from the woman who runs it that said, "AMAZING" with a link -- they ran the story!

I felt like I won the lottery. I let some of that doubt creep in -- yes, I know them... Yes, they could be doing me a favor... Yes, they're being nice -- but still. There was my name, on a website, and STRANGERS were going to read it. Was it as funny as I hoped it would be? Would people like it?

But all day, my friends reposted the story and gave me nice comments, and that made me feel like a million bucks. I love my friends more than anything, and they are all so supportive and wonderful, and I basked in their love. But then, I saw comments from people THAT I DIDN'T KNOW and I started to cry:

"Hilarious!"

"There aren't enough Like buttons in the cosmos for this."

"I am so sharing this. O man. I laughed the f**k out loud... I will be eternally grateful that you shared it with me."

And then out for drinks that night, I was greeted with "JACK IN THE BOX!" by someone who had seen it earlier that day. I felt like ZSA ZSA!

ALL of it was AWESOME. And made me think, "Hey, that's not so hard. And it was easy and felt good. DO IT AGAIN!" and it made me feel like I CAN do it again, and I will.

So forgive me for tooting that proverbial horn, but wow. I felt SO Accomplished. It's not one of the 97, but it's always been number one to me. Whoo hoo!

And here is the story of you'd like to read it, too!

Jack. In. The. Box. Jackinthebox.

xoxo

And the winner is...

2012-01-13T22:58:00.000-08:00

I want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who entered and commented! I loved hearing all about your favorite books, and I'm so thrilled to add new books to my list for 2012. When I pick up the winner's copy of Swimming in the Steno Pool tomorrow, I'll be picking up a few extra books for myself. (See, I get to be a winner, too!)

So, without further ado:

See I upgraded to a zebra Snuggie this year.

The winner is: LAURA!

Congratulations, Laura! You are now the proud owner of a signed copy of Swimming in the Steno Pool! Send me your address!

Again, thanks to everyone who commented, and thanks to everyone who reads my blog -- it really means a lot to me. And special thanks to Jon Burchard for being such a fantastic cameraman! (This year I didn't have to prop up the camera on a stack of books and an empty candy box. I felt almost pro-fesh-un-alll.)

And please, do pick up the books on the list -- they're so good. I've decided that I'll do another one of these in a few months because it's been so much fun!

Which means I need to get reading. Now, that's an awesome Accomplishment.

Picking a winner in just a couple hours!

2012-01-13T18:21:00.000-08:00

What do this:

And this:

And this:

And THIS:

Have to do with this Friday night?

Why, it's what I'll be wearing for the grand Giveway picking (I feel that a Snuggie and a tiara really work best for these occasions), what I'll be drinking because it's fancy time, and what I'll be giving away!

So there's about 2 hours left for you to enter here...

Because I need to go and get THIS.

Good luck to everyone who entered!

Deadline for the Giveaway Extended Until Friday the 13th!

2012-01-11T07:37:00.000-08:00

Joan reminded me that I have a previous engagement on Thursday night, so I can't choose the winner until Friday the 13th! Which I rather like -- it will be someone's lucky day.

So stay tuned, dahlings! And if you haven't entered yet, go here and leave a comment. And please share the link and the love!

Now if you'll excuse me, Joan just reminded me that I have a meeting with Maybelline. See you Friday, and good luck!

Reading is Fabulous and Fundamental.

2012-01-08T10:12:00.000-08:00

Reading is cool. Check it out:

Bowie reads.

The Beatles read.

La Liz reads.

Monty reads.

Winona reads.

Hipsters read.

Marilyn reads "Leaves of Grass."

So does Lisa Simpson.

(All images from the amazing Tumblr blog Awesome People Reading)

And YOU can be as cool as these people by checking out my last post, and entering to win the contest! The prize is a SIGNED edition of Lynn Peril's Swimming in the Steno Pool! All you need to do is leave a comment of one of your favorite books you've read lately (or ever), and you're automatically entered. I'll pick the winner January 12th. Click here to enter!

Reading really is fundamental and fabulous.

Happy New Year... and a FABULOUS GIVEAWAY!

2012-01-03T08:03:00.000-08:00

Well, hello there!

It's a new year and this is kind of exciting: THIS IS MY 100th BLOG POST. I kinda feel like it's cheating because I'm supposed to be doing all these 97 things, right, and I only have 43 of them done and this is my 100th post. I know I'm bad at math, but something doesn't compute. But whatever, I have still hit "post" 100 times -- or will when I finish this! (Insert noisemaker sound here.)

The reason I have the 100 is because I have written extra entries -- including the annual New Year "Hey Don't Give Up On Me!" post and books I've loved. Well, since this is the year I get Organized, I'm combining 2 posts into one. Isn't that clever? And read aaaaaallll the way to the bottom, and there will be another GIVEAWAY! (Insert that noisemaker sound again.)

So one of my New Year's Resolutions is to read more this year, and I thought that if that was one of your resolutions, too, I'd give you a list of a few of my favorites I've read over the past year or so. I've read quite a few more, but I've been bad and haven't kept track and have lent them out and can't remember them off the top of my head. But here are some that I've really enjoyed, and I hope you'll enjoy them, too:

2011 was a lucky year for us, because a new Lynn Peril book was released: Swimming in the Steno Pool! This time around my favorite author tackled the subject of secretaries throughout history, and goes way beyond the stereotypes of "office wives" making coffee. Smart, witty, and informative, whether you know shorthand or not. A must!

Another book with "swim" in the title: Swim to Me by Betsy Carter. I saw this in the Algonquin Books catalog and knew it would be a winner, because I love everything Algonquin publishes. This is no exception -- the story of a girl's journey to become a fabulous Weeki Watchee mermaid. When I was finished I was ready to book tickets to Florida and see the show.

Another one set in Florida, Swamplandia by Karen Russell. I really liked this book and loved the premise, but I did have a problem with some of the details near the end -- but don't let my persnickety-ness deter you. (I didn't like Time Traveler's Wife because of a minute detail, and it's everyone's favorite book.) I'd love to hear what you think!

Okay, this is old news by now (a lot of these are, but there are always gems in backlist titles that may get passed over the initial PR sweep), but I absolutely LOVED ROOM by Emma Donoghue. So much so, in fact, that I still, to this day, think about the characters and wonder what they're doing, much like how I felt about Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson. So powerful, and what's funny is that when I first started reading, I had no idea how she could sustain the story. Oh, she does.

This is old news, too, but still very good news: The Secret History by Donna Tartt. I read it when it first came out -- I bought into the hype of the wunderkind young author, and was so enthralled that I kept sneaking reads of it while I pretended to shelve books at the bookstore where I worked. This past year I went to dinner with a group of women, and one of them said that this book is her litmus test of potential friendships and standing gift to everyone with whom she's friends. I understand completely.

I Was Told There'd be Cake and How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley. I kind of hate Sloane Crosley because she's another wunderkind -- super witty, a terrific writer, and cute. And has been compared to Dorothy Parker, David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell, three of my absolute favorites. I kind of hate her because I am totally jealous of her and wish I could be her. Sigh.

Another wit that had me laughing out loud, and that may surprise you if you've read "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson, as it is one of the most horrifying (and best) short stories ever written. But one of the things that makes "The Lottery" so scary is how real it seems initially -- the everyday life of a housewife in an everyday town, but then horror seeps in. (I always thought that was what made Stephen King and Steven Spielberg's "Poltergeist" so popular, too -- everyday people confronted with terror.) Life Among the Savages is Shirley Jackson's chronicle of her own life, and it is hysterical. I want to go back and share all the funny parts here, but I won't. You need to read them for yourself. Those kooky kids!

Speaking of kooky kids... I bought Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs because I loved the cover, and it did NOT disappoint. It is all-around fantastic, from the premise, the craft, the story and the found photos within. It reminded me of the great books I read as a kid, with a little Geek Love (but much, much sweeter) thrown in. I heard there's going to be a sequel and I CANNOT WAIT.

While Miss Peregrine had a group of peculiar kids, none of them were only a foot tall, but that's where Chumpy Walnut by Will Viharo comes in. Chumpy (oh, how I love the name -- in fact, the book is chock full of fabulous names) is only 12 inches tall, but holds his own with lots of fast talkin' guys and dolls. The reviews call it "Runyon-esque," but I think it's way more Viharo-esque. Super fun read,complete with illustrations, and I'll bet you'll be wishing you had friends named Goosey, Hotsie and Cupey, too.

Another charming walk through the past, literally -- Caroline Preston, the author of The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt, has collected 1920's ephemera and crafted a story (much like the found photos of Miss Peregrine) out of wonderful vintage illustrations, ads, photos, drawings, and knick knacks. And yet with just a few written words per page, she has written a novel with a terrific storyline that takes the reader from Cornish, NH, to Vassar to Manhattan to Paris and back to Cornish again and created a spunky character, the brave and independent Frankie.

The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy. Another young girl's madcap adventures in Paris. God, I LOVED this book. Just get this line as she talks about wanting "to sin" and go to the Ritz in the 1950's: "I mean... oh... Luxe, satins and silks... leopardskins and peacock's tongues. Silk -- that's what I want rubbing against me. I feel so woolen all the time." Tres magnifique!

I suppose I was on a kick this year -- single, intrepid women from decades past. Hmmm. But this one, I think, is the best of the lot. (And trust me, I loved them all.) So much so that when I finished, I went right back to page one and savored it again for a few hours.

Well, of course one of the original New York "party girls," the ultimate spunky gal about town was Holly Golightly, one of my all-time favorite characters in literature. But, believe it or not, she's not one of my favorites on the big screen, as much as I love and absolutely adore Audrey Hepburn and Givenchy. Fifth Avenue 5 a.m. is behind the scenes of the movie, and whether it's your most favorite film in the world or you feel the way I do, you will LOVE this book. Who knew that a "behind the scenes" look would be so enthralling? Trust me, it is.

And here he is, the creator of Holly, and one of my all-time, most revered authors. Now, Truman Capote was the party boy about town, and Party of the Century is the story of his famous Black and White Ball, when Truman was at his peak of fabulosity. And a side note that's so exciting for me -- I bought this book less than a mile from where Truman lived as a child, next door to Harper Lee, in Monroeville, Alabama. (One of my best friends and I went on a pilgrimage there, and it was so wonderful! Here's a photo of me at the site of Truman's old house!) Capote came a long way from his humble beginnings, and this book is a taste of that -- literally, too -- check out the decadent recipe for The Plaza's chicken hash!

Talk about GLAMOUR. I read this book while sitting on a crowded Southwest flight with the guy in front of me leaned all the way back, and a kid watching a movie on a laptop next to me with the volume turned up to 11 through his headphones, while eating a bland airport sandwich and pretzels. And there were Dick and Liz jetsetting on private planes and ginormous yachts, flying in food from Chasen's, spending millions of dollars on diamonds, and boozing it up like nobody's business. (Except it was EVERYBODY'S business. Even the Vatican's.)And yet... you still love them, and want it to work for them. I'd been chomping at the bit to read it since I read the excerpt in Vanity Fair, and it was even better (and juicier) than I hoped it would be. And what's good about this -- the very good authors clearly respect Elizabeth and Richard, and that makes a difference.

And now, drumroll, please, the best book I've read all year:

ZSA ZSA. One Lifetime is Not Enough. No,no it isn't. I am NOT kidding, this book is AMAZING. If you're friends with me on facebook, you know that already. And I hope I've converted you to the Church of Zsa Zsa. She has done EVERYTHING. You NEED this book. It will change your whole life, and you will start calling everyone dahling and realize that the Kardashians PALE in comparison to being famous for being famous -- the Gabors are the real thing, dahlings. Order it NOW.

Speaking of ordering books, I implore you to order/buy from local bookstores and/or brick and mortars. I think you all know how I feel about this, and how important it is to support your local bookseller. Show them some love!

Speaking of showing some love, it's giveaway time!

Leave a comment of YOUR favorite book you've read all year, or ever, or on your To Read list -- I would love some new recommendations, or conversation for ones I've read, too! And please share this post on your blog, Facebook, Twitter, that Google Plus, myspace, friendster, with your mom... Everywhere!

I'll draw a name from a bowl like I did here. And the prize will be the first book on this list, a copy of Lynn Peril's fabulous Swimming in the Steno Pool! Hooray! Won't that be a great way to start 2012? I'll pick the winner on January 12 around 8 pm PST, so be sure to comment by then.

Happy New Year, everyone, and thank you so much! And good luck!

Accomplishment #42: Make a Video (#51)

2011-12-30T22:44:00.001-08:00

Like many delusional children, I had dreams that I would grow up and be a glamorous movie star. (And a writer. And a Broadway sensation. And an ice cream truck driver if those things didn't pan out.) I just knew I had that certain *something* that was special, and that I was destined for Greatness. Tatum O'Neal? BAH. Kristy McNichol? Pffft. Jodie Foster? No way! (Though one of my mom's friends told me I looked like her, in the era of Candleshoe, and I cried. What I wouldn't give to look like her now.) They were NOTHINGS. I, Karen Finlay, was going to star in movies, be a regular on The Love Boat, AND be on the cover of Dynamite Magazine! (And be a writer, a Broadway sensation and an ice cream truck driver.) I was going to take the world by storm!

This really should have been me. From Super Seventies.

Alas, I lost a few things along the way to my star on Hollywood Blvd: All self-esteem and ambition once hitting puberty and junior high school -- or middle school as they call it nowadays -- that time frame between 11 and 13 that should, really, be totally illegal. But I did discover a fundamental truth about myself at a young age while auditioning for a minor role in a school production of Blithe Spirit: I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag. I couldn't even lie convincingly to my mom when asked, "Who ate all the Girl Scout cookies?" Nor could I tap dance, sing, have a fashionable hairstyle, or do math. (Math has nothing to do with it, but I really can't do math.) I also can't drive large vehicles, so my ice cream truck dreams were dashed, too.

So I kind of stuck with the writing thing instead of the whole acting thing. But still, like most delusional people, I harbored a secret fantasy that someday I would become a famous movie star -- but without really doing anything like have talent or beauty or mad acting skillz. Though I don't think being famous is as fun as it used to be -- I have gathered that in the past few years, in order to be a movie star, one must go to rehab, enroll in upper division college courses, have a baby (or pretend to), get married (but only for 1 month to 1 year), engage in what is called "canoodling" with rap stars, have a clothing line with your name on it but designed by people with the fashion sense of sewer rats, and one's only form of self-expression is infantile Twitter posts, because there's no time to actually make movies while keeping oneself famous.

So being a movie star isn't quite as glamorous as it used to be, but some old dreams die hard. I can't help plotting my outfits and witty repartee for future appearances on the late-night talk show circuit and my Oscar acceptance speech anyway. A part of me longs for the greasepaint... The lights, the cameras, and the action.

Well, in 2011, those dreams came true! I, Karen Finlay, starred in not one but TWO films this year -- that's more than Natalie Portman, and she won the Oscar! (Though I know my Best Actress acceptance speech would be WAY better than hers. Harrummph.)

The first one was a super cool project by my friend Nicole Burch, who is an incredibly talented compositor and digital artist, and whose credits include Captain America and Thor! She had an idea for a 50's themed short she wanted to direct, and asked if we'd be willing to lend our house and star. Well, since I've wanted to be a famous movie star for like forever (and really, because Nicole is a dear friend and I was super honored to be asked), we jumped at the chance!

And it was so much fun -- a REAL film crew came to the house, with lights and sound and all that professional equipment!

Nicole and Kyle giving the thumbs up!

And we did real takes and everything, and Nicole directed me on mad acting skillz:

"So, like, it should go there? How should I play it? Should I look happy? Sad? What would Zsa Zsa do?"

And then when it was all over we were sad and were going to miss our new friends:

Jon, me, Nicole, Simranjit, Kyle and Jackie

And then Nicole added 3D animation, the multi-talented Ryan Rorie added the soundtrack, and voila! It's Fantastic!

I LOVE it! I wish I were a better actress (maybe I should have kept those dreams alive and taken a couple of acting classes for my Big Moment) for Nicole's sake, but wow! It was so cool to be part of it, and so awesome to see the final outcome. What a huge honor!

But I didn't just take a hiatus and fly off to an exotic island vacation and canoodle with a local rap star, oh no. I jumped right back in front of the camera! I was thrilled to collaborate with my BFF Carrie Swing, whose blog, Carried Away With Vintage Gourmet is one of the best blogs out there. (Have you checked it out? If not, BOOKMARK IT NOW!) A girl after my own heart, she re-creates vintage recipes and blogs about it, with often hilarious results. We were talking about how we could bring the world of vintage recipes AND Tupperware together (yes, I'm still selling the fantastic plastic!)and we decided to make a video!

So after getting Jon to be the cameraman (and bartender), we filmed ourselves making "Best Oven Hash" from the 1963 Better Homes and Gardens So Good Meals cookbook, using all Tupperware products (except for my mom's 1963 Fire King casserole dish -- don't ever put Tupperware in an oven!) and it was so fun!

Here's Carrie's blog entry that includes the recipe -- it really IS delicious!

We didn't even practice OR edit! Not bad, I say... But if I were a movie critic, I would have to say that Carrie and Tupperware are the stars of the show, and I need to go to rehab and get on an intense Jillian Michaels workout routine and get rid of the weird lisp I just discovered I have. But you know what all that means? I am totally on my way to becoming a REAL movie star and on the cover of People and US Magazines! And isn't Julia Roberts married to her cameraman? See, I'm totally on the right path!

Now, I know that the book said to MAKE a video, but don't worry, I did THAT, too!

CHECK OUT THE ARTISTRY. MARVEL at the technical aspects! Look at the zoom ins, and the sweep of terrifying food wreckage. See how the Sterno flames from the cabbage hover in the center, with Vienna sausages orbiting outwards? That is symbolism for the heat and passion within the artist's heart, and the ideas and creativity emanating like planets, representing crystalline thoughts realized from... Oh WHATEVER. It's 13 seconds of a flaming cabbage dish from this year's Mid-Century Supper Club Potluck, but honestly it looks a lot better than most of the "arty" films I've endured. More festive anyway.

So I'd like to thank the Academy, errr, Nicole for asking us to be part of her special project, which was such an honor and so much fun; Carrie for being my BFF and fabulous collaborator, Jon for being an awesome boyfriend, bartender and cameraman, Tupperware for just being terrific, Mona San Filippo for the flaming cabbage, and all of YOU for reading my blog!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to The Vanity Fair Oscar Party, because that's the fancy one, dahlings. I've chartered my own ice cream truck limo, and I can't wait to say, "In your FACE, Kristy McNichol!" Maybe we'll get on the cover of Dynamite Magazine together. And don't worry, I'll totally Tweet about it.

Forty-two down, 55 to go.

Happy Holidays from 97-Land!

2011-12-24T10:44:00.001-08:00

Just checking in to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kooky Kwanzaa, Fabulous Festivus or December 24th... Whatever you celebrate, hope it's a great one!

I don't know about the rest of you, but Christmas is a bit of a challenge for me every year. I always want to Accomplish tons of stuff, like decorate with real fir boughs and holly, bake peppermint macaroons and cook figgy pudding, find perfect presents for everyone I know and wrap them beautifully using twigs and glitter, and eat things like goose. So, basically, do all the things I have never done before and that I am completely incapable of doing. And then I never do ANY of those things and suddenly it's Christmas Eve and I'm all, "OH NO. I still haven't finished shopping for the 3 people I DO have to shop for and I don't even know what figgy pudding IS!" I blame Martha Stewart, Charles Dickens, Lexus commercials and Pinterest for my inadequacy.

This is where I SHOULD say, "But I'm not inadequate! Because those things aren't the true meaning and spirit of Christmas!" Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get enough "messages" forced upon us this time of year, so I'm not adding to that. Maybe I'll rant about it in July. Right now I'm just going to chalk it up to not finding the right balance between busy and lazy, and figgy pudding will just have to wait. Until July. (Or never. I think it sounds weird.) Besides, I'm doing laundry right now, and that's Accomplishing something!

So today, I'm finally going to stop berating myself for lack of figgy pudding and macaroons, put on sweatpants, drink some nog and not do much of anything. Except get some last minutes gifts, brave the market for food for brunch tomorrow, bake cookies for Santa (I'm so glad he likes those Pillsbury dough rolls), make lunch for two trying-not-to-be-cranky children who I've already told that they have to do EVERYTHING I SAY ON CHRISTMAS EVE OR ELSE I'LL RAT THEM OUT TO SANTA, fight the crowds at Santa Claus Lane, go to a party, find all the presents I hid all over the house and don't remember where they are, and wrap them. THEN I'm putting in sweatpants, a tiara, and hitting the nog. Ahh well. It's tradition!

But if you want to feel Accomplished and Christmas Spirit-y and stuff, you can donate to the blog's online food drive here.

But my main Accomplishment in writing this post is wishing you all Happy Holidays, and to say thank you for reading this sporadic blog. I'll let the glamorous Gabors illustrate it more beautifully than I ever could:

Happy Holidays, dahlings! Go be merry and bright! xoxo

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-30T20:02:00.001-07:00

Love this.

BOO!

I just wanted to wish all of you a Happy Halloween! I myself have not done any of the crazy hi-jinks I used to do in the days of old, thanks to being sick the week before this grand holiday. And, well, thanks to being kinda old. TP-ing sounds awful, as does doing shots with spooky names, and I don't find sexy zombie costumes sexy. But hey, this is coming from someone who is dressing up for work as Little Edie Beale from "Grey Gardens," so only about 4 people there will know who I am. The rest will think that I am a crazy homeless lady clutching a bag of Wonder Bread. Sigh.

In any case, this is an Accomplishment because I've wanted to be Little Edie for so many years and I haven't done it which is stupid because it's the one costume where I don't have to buy anything, except the aforementioned Wonder Bread. However, last year I was Zombie Tupperware Lady which wasn't sexy but it was kind of AWESOME:

And to revisit the ghosts of Halloweens past, please click here.

Have a fantastic Halloween, everyone... And you have my full permission to trick anyone who hands out toothbrushes and/or little boxes of raisins. UGH.

Huurrrrryyyy baaaaaack! Huuuurrryyy baaaaaack!!!

Still working on #41...

2011-10-22T11:18:00.001-07:00

Look at these awesome people.

Those are my awesome coworkers at The Alameda County Community Food Bank!

Today's the last day of National Food Bank Week. I must admit, all I've done is buy a few cans of food and donated, but I wish I'd done more.

But one thing I can do is alert you to my last post, and if you'd like to donate to The 97 Things Virtual Food Drive, click the link! I'd like to reach $970 by the end of the year, and we're not even at 10%. Won't you please help? Even $5 goes a long way. And you feel TOTALLY Accomplished.

Thanks, all!

xoxoxo

Accomplishment #41: Feed The Needy (#70)

2011-10-06T20:07:00.000-07:00

Among the many things on my To-Do List (for example: win the lottery, write a best selling novel, canoe down a lava bed in a titanium canoe), one of the things I've been meaning to do forever has been to volunteer at a local food bank. I've always thought it seemed like such a good and necessary thing to do, and something that would not only help others, but be rewarding, too. I had a friend who could never do anything on certain nights, and she never said why -- she just couldn't -- and would change the subject. When I finally pressed her long and hard enough (I was SURE she was having an affair), she admitted that she was volunteering at the local soup kitchen, and even taking Spanish classes so she could talk to a lot of the people she was serving. The way she spoke about it when her secret was revealed was so inspirational, and it made me want to help, too. (I wasn't even disappointed to discover that she wasn't having an affair. That's how happy she was.)

But, as usual, life got in the way. Weekends are always busy. Work is tiring. Too broke to donate. And HOW does one even go about doing anything? The closest I ever got was Jennye and I collecting donations at The Mid Century Supper Club Potlucks, which yielded a lot of cans donated in a barrel at work, which was actually really great. But it wasn't until my BFF Leslie created a volunteer day for our work, and motivated 2 groups of us to help out at The Alameda County Community Food Bank that I finally got to do what I've been meaning to do for years.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I knew you had to dress for warehouse conditions and wear close-toed shoes (which I always do anyway), but other than that, I had no idea. Would we be hauling cans? Sifting? (Jon had sifted, so he told me all about that.) Sorting?

Turns out, it was none of the above. It was bagging celery.

Lots and lots of celery.

But by doing this:

(This is Leslie in action, BTW. She gets a Big Blue Star in my book.)

We wound up doing 6,082 pounds of this:

And that, my friends, is an awesome feeling.

The Alameda County Community Food Bank serves 49,000 people a week. One in six people in our county is hungry and can't afford food. And it's not just in Alameda county -- there are 49 million people across the United States struggling with hunger.* And if the economy doesn't get better, it will just get worse and more people will be relying on the food banks for help. We had an information session, and I don't know if there was a dry eye or a throat that didn't have a lump in that room. We were told stories of teachers who had always been fine financially, but like so many, they had gotten laid off and finally in desperation had to come to the food bank. And stories about fathers who couldn't afford to have birthday parties for their children, and the food bank made it possible. (Just thinking of these stories makes me well up all over again.) And there are many, many more stories on the news, on the internet, and even from the people you walk past every day. They may not necessarily be holding signs, but they're there. The food bank makes it possible for them to eat, and gain something just as important: dignity. I think we all walked out of there feeling really good that we had helped, and even more -- we were ready to do more.

Around the same time that I volunteered, my awesome friend Mary started a virtual food drive called "Feed Oakland" through the Alameda County Community Food Bank and made it fun -- each neighborhood in Oakland "competed," and at the end of 30 days, she had raised $1500! The Food Bank is able to stretch dollars so that for every dollar donated, they can distribute $5 worth of good, nutritious food to families in need. Mary's great idea turned into $7500 worth of food!

So I am totally stealing Mary's amazing idea for this blog (thanks, Mary!), and it just so happens that October 16-22 is National Food Bank Week -- I had no idea until I sat down tonight and started writing this blog. What perfect timing!

I created a virtual food drive with Feeding America, so that anyone anywhere can donate. Feeding America is the leading domestic hunger relief organization, with network food banks serving every state. Feeding America’s nationwide network of over 200 food banks provides food and groceries to 33,500 food pantries, 4,500 soup kitchens and 3,600 emergency shelters. This extensive network helps feed 37 million Americans each year -- delivering over 3 billion pounds of food. Each week nearly 5.7 million people receive emergency food assistance from an agency served by a Feeding America member.

And what's great about them is that for every dollar donated, they can provide SEVEN meals for hungry individuals. That's amazing!

So if you can, please donate:

The 97 Things Virtual Food Drive

I made the goal $970. Get it? 97 Things = $970? Yeah, okay, it's cheesy, but I like it. And it's a good goal. That means if we can raise that money, that will be 679 meals for people who would otherwise have to go without. And please, spread the word! Email the link! Facebook the link! Blog the link! Learn and love the link!

And there are other things you can do, too. Find your local food bank, call them, and ask them for a barrel for your workplace and ask your co-workers to bring in non-perishables. Leslie did that at our work, and now, every time I go to the grocery store, I buy 2 extra cans of something to donate. So easy to remember! This is Alameda County's list of what they need and take, and I'm sure it translates everywhere:

Canned fruits and vegetables
Canned meats and fish
Peanut butter (in plastic jars -- no glass of any kind)
Pasta
Beans
Rice
Canned soup (low salt)
Low sugar cereal and oatmeal
Tomato sauce
Powdered milk

And, of course, you can volunteer at your local food bank, too. Just remember that the holidays are usually booked up(which is a good thing) -- but they always need help the rest of the year.

So in honor of National Food Bank Week, please help! It would be fabulous if you donated to the blog's food drive, but really, anything anywhere helps. I myself am going to forgo MY favorite snack, Taco Flavored Doritos, and instead of buying that delicious treat I am going to donate the money I'd spend on them instead. I know I sound flip, but I am serious. And plus, it's good karma, and an even better feeling knowing you're helping someone who needs it. What an Accomplishment that is, right?

Forty-one down, 56 to go.

*Feeding America, 2011

Ew.

2011-10-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

Knock knock.

Who's there?

*crickets*

Oh dear. I did it again... TOO MUCH TIME BETWEEN POSTS.

But! That's about to change, because I'm about to update aaaaalllll of my many (okay both) Accomplishments! Yes I am!

But I want to say a big thank you for following me, and if you just joined the 97 Things Party Bus, welcome!

And I am thrilled to have so many followers, and one very special "fan":

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery... But hmmm.

Onward!

AND THE WINNER IS...

2011-02-28T21:07:00.001-08:00

First of all, I want to that EVERYONE who entered! It was so much fun reading all your posts, and I was very impressed with all of you. You should all be very proud of your Accomplishments... And you're ALL winners as far as I'm concerned.

Second of all, picking a winner is hard work, especially when you decide to film it. There's hair and makeup and lighting and camera and endless uploading, and when you have no people, it's hard. People, I had no people. And no script. I'm a total dork.

So without further ado, the Jel-Ring Mold goes to:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the winner was SHONA!

So Shona, please email me at nsparkle at earthlink.net and send me your address AND your favorite flavor of Jell-O!

And everyone else, I'd love to send you a thank you for entering -- please email me your addresses, too!

Again, thanks so much to everyone who entered -- it was so much fun! So much so that I'm thinking of doing it again soon. Wheee!

Thank you, all!

Last Day To Enter The Contest!

2011-02-27T22:28:00.001-08:00

What's more thrilling than winning an Oscar?

Winning THIS, of course:

Because then you can Accomplish Great Things like this:

And THIS:

And that's better than some statuette that just sits on your mantel, isn't it?

But HURRY! Contest ends Feb. 28th at 8pm! That's when I'm going to pick the lucky winner. Which is thrilling for me because I get to say, "And The Jel-Ring Mold goes to..."

Enter HERE for your chance to win! (And don't worry. Years of tap, ballet, voice lessons, acting and elocution classes, plastic surgery and relentless diets are unnecessary. You can even enter while wearing your pajamas if you want. But if you send me a picture of yourself wearing this, I'll send you a special prize.)

See? My contest is WAY better than The Oscars.

Good luck!

Accomplishment #40: Redo Your Bedroom (#1)

2011-02-22T16:42:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school, I switched bedrooms. The room I had up until 10th grade had a single bed, flower and strawberry motif bedspread and curtains, and close proximity to the kitchen but it lacked the most important tool in an 80's teenager's social life: a phone jack. It also had that fake French provincial furniture (which for some reason is hip now) and embarrassment of all embarrassments -- my dollhouse. No self-respecting new wave teenager had dollhouses in their rooms, so I tried to hide that baby-ish fact by taking down my unicorn and baby harp seal posters and replacing them with something much more sophisticated, similar to this.

Mine was worse, if you can believe it. It had 2 ladies with rainbows coming out of their mouths. GROSS. From GBPosters' Flickr.

But in 10th grade, I was in business. My mom and dad let me move into my sister's old room, which had not only a phone jack, but 2 beds for sleepovers AND I got to leave my rainbows, unicorns, fake French provincial and dollhouse behind. I was going to have the new wave bedroom of my dreams! (As long as I ignored the wicker headboards. They had to stay, much to my chagrin.) "I want gray walls and black bedspreads and black and white striped sheets," I told my mom, much to her chagrin.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "It could get sort of... well, depressing."

"Oh no," I said. "I'm going to hang up posters and record covers and stuff." I think she sighed.

But even though I was going to get my walls painted a tasteful dove gray, it wasn't going to happen right away and my parents gave me permission to draw and write on the walls. I envisioned a cool mural, something so amazing that I wouldn't even want to paint it over. Budding artist that (I thought) I was, I embarked on drawing a life-size picture of Twiggy that I copied from my dad's "This Fabulous Century: 1960-1970" book. Only problem was: I wasn't really a budding artist. After not getting Twiggy's hair (or face or body) right AT ALL, I drew a big bouffant instead. That didn't work very well, either, and since it was on the wall, I couldn't exactly crumple it up and start over. So I did what any dorky teenager would do: I changed the go-go girl into Boy George.

See how that works? The hat and the hair over one eye totally fixed the misshapen bouffant and lopsided face, plus he wore tunics so that took care of the badly drawn body.

So I had an ugly Boy George on my wall, plus my friend Karin and I wrote deep and meaningful Soft Cell lyrics everywhere, plus stuff like "I heart Bob" and my favorite band names du jour. Basically I treated my room like a giant Pee-Chee folder, and let's just say I wasn't exactly bummed to see Go-Go George and everything else get painted over. And at first it looked great -- my dad got my 2 favorite posters of The Beatles and Warhol's Marilyn framed, and it looked streamlined and cool (except for the dumb wicker headboards). But then, true to my word, I junked it all up with album covers, flyers, photos, clippings from magazines, books, knick-knacks, clothes everywhere and my bed was unmade more often than not. It was a total pit, but I totally loved it.

Now, a couple of decades later, things haven't changed much. I still junk up every bedroom I've ever lived in, and this one's no exception. Poor Jon has a dresser and the side of the bed, but our room is filled with all my stuff. Okay, no album covers and clippings -- just nicely framed prints of Avedon, Man Ray, Louise Dahl Wolfe and a few others -- but still. Everywhere you look there seems to be a ceramic poodle or a hatbox or shoes and jewelry and books tossed about. He is the clean one, and I am the cyclone, with bobby-pins and poodles flying in my wake.

Stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.

But I did sort of re-do the bedroom -- Jon hung up these nice shelves for me, and a few years ago, I traded our leopard comforter (which had seen better days)for a brand-new Target faux mod-atomic-something-or-other design.

My "office." And Norman.

And that's as far as we can really go -- since it's a rental, we can't paint or do much to it. And with my decor sensibilities, well, who would notice anyway? You'd be too busy fighting off the sensory overload that's already going on. Sometimes I'll go over to my friends' houses and see their beautiful, spare, Mid-Century style and get a pang of envy, but sometimes I meet people who are more like me -- people who have even more stuff than I have and I love it.

In fact, a few weeks ago I was invited to Dame Rusty's house for a kitsch party, and the guest of honor was Allee Willis, who is not only a Grammy winning songwriter, but a Kitsch Aficionado and "curator of The Museum of Kitsch! It was fabulous, and her website and blog are so much fun! Click here to read all about the Kitsch Party, and check out the link on the right to read about and see more of Allee's fun stuff and life. She is such an inspiration, and I was even honored to submit a photo to the AWMOK's Kitschenette! Click here for the coolness!

In any case, while I would love to redo my bedroom, the new bedspread and cleaning stuff off my dresser is about as far as I can go these days. So instead, today I redid my blog!

I hadn't updated since August 2009, and it was time. So today I had some time on my hands and messed around a little bit, and here it is. I cleaned up the links and the layout and then started getting cuckoo with colors. It's a bit misleading because it looks like a vintage blog (or like the movie poster of Hairspray or something like that) but whatevs. The background is the same fabric as my favorite purse, and I like the pink and blue and green accents. In short, it's sort of cluttered and busy just like my bedroom, so there you have it. Plus, like the one I did back in 2009, I think Zsa Zsa would approve of this one, too.

I can only imagine how Zsa Zsa decorated her mansion! And we're not that different -- she just had real glamour dogs, and mine are all fake on my shelf.

And you know what? By redoing my blog, I feel totally Accomplished, even if I didn't get out of my pajamas all day. Which is my most favorite kind of Accomplishment.

Forty down, 57 to go.

PS Don't forget to enter THE CONTEST!

Contest Time!

2011-02-17T18:32:00.000-08:00

Hello daaaahlings!

OVER TWO HUNDRED FOLLOWERS? How did THAT happen??? Now THAT is an Accomplishment! Especially since I've been so bad at updating these days...

But to express my undying gratitude, it is time for a contest!

Look behind Door #3 for this VALUABLE prize!

Will it be:

A new electric oven and stove combo?

No.

An Alumilux Water Heater?

No.

The World's Ugliest Lamp?

No.

SCHNITZELBANK?

Whatever that is... But No.

Behold... It's THIS!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is correct. The grand prize is A TUPPERWARE JEL-RING MOLD!

You will also receive a vintage 1940's JELL-O "cookbook"... and a sweet apron so you can serve your Jell-O in style!

And that's not all... You will also win a free made by me CD of special songs to serve Jell-O by!

What, you think you're done? Nope! I will throw in your very own BOX OF JELL-O! (Winner will get to choose the flavor.)

And Turtle Wax!

(Okay, not really on the Turtle Wax. But they always had it as a prize on game shows when I was little and I had NO idea what it was -- I thought it was to wax turtles. How bummed I was when I figured out it was for dumb old cars.)

What is all this worth, Monty? Well... about five dollars, but really, it's PRICELESS. Because not only can you serve Jell-O in this, you can make a MEAT RING, TOO!

Totally stolen from one of the best photostreams in the universe, Charm and Poise's Flickr.

Okay, here are the rules:

-- Leave me a comment on here, telling me one of YOUR Accomplishments. It can be anything from a Mother Teresa-like endeavor where you saved an entire village of starving kittens from drowning (to make the rest of us look bad) or simply getting out of bed this morning (which I barely did, so there you go).

--Spread the joy! Post it on your blog, your facebook, your Twitter, a billboard in your hometown... I don't care. But any of that would be awesome -- the more the merrier!

-- Sit tight! I will choose a winner at random on Monday, Feb. 28th at around 8pm PST.

-- And good luck!

Seriously, you guys -- thanks for following me and being so fabulous. I appreciate all of you... you're the wind beneath my wings. If I had wings.

Wheeeee!!!!!

xoxoxoxo,
Sparkleneely

Accomplishment #39: Write A Real Letter (#62)

2011-02-06T11:42:00.001-08:00

As I've told you before, I am a terrible correspondent. (You think this blog is bad? You should see my horrible inboxes on facebook, email, and probably myspace and friendster, too.)

But I looove getting mail. These days all I get are bills, coupons, and today I got the lovely whammy of a $260 "parking" ticket that I wasn't even aware of. (Curses on you, secret cameras at bus stops when I only stopped for ONE SECOND!)

The last crazy thing I got in the mail was THIS:

I mean sweet jeebus, what IS this? I'm sorry, there is nothing more frightening than what could very well be the 4th Horseman of the Apocalypse rendered as a wistful, unfinished clown. I was certain it was a death threat. Turns out it's some sort of circus thing that the previous tenant belonged to so it wasn't even for me, but I certainly enjoyed the delicious terror I felt and paranoid speculation I made upon receiving it.

But other than that, there's been nothing good in my mailbox for a long, long time. I got quite a few lovely Christmas cards, but considering I haven't sent seasons' greetings since the last century, receiving those are bittersweet. I always feel terrible because I know I'm never going to get around to reciprocating, and it makes me feel like a bad friend/cousin/niece, but I love getting cards and I tell myself, "Next year!" Or that perhaps I'll send Groundhog Day cards instead. Oh. Whoops.

The thing is, I love the whole idea of mail. And if you know me at all or have followed this blog for a while, you know that I love the whole idea of printed words on paper -- books over Kindle, etc. etc. etc. I love the feel and even the scent. I love beautiful stationery and lovely crafty letterpress cards, and marvel at pretty penmanship. I get excited when I see cute stamps. I love the idea of life stories in letters, preserved for future generations.

In fact, on that topic, here's a side note digression about a letter that was the best story I heard in 2011. I was in Nashville, talking to an author about how I wanted to go to Monroeville, Alabama, to see Harper Lee's hometown. The man told me that he had bought a used book, a copy of Gerald Clarke's biography of Truman Capote, and inside he found a handwritten letter signed, "Nell." That's Harper Lee's real name. The letter was from Harper Lee to a close friend who had passed away (his estate sold his books to this store), and it explained why she cut ties with Capote, which is something she has never discussed. So not only did this letter found under the most unlikely circumstances clear up a literal literary mystery, but it has turned out to be a treasure for this man as well. And a story that made me writhe with joy. (If you ever want to see my mad love for Harper Lee, go here to watch me babble -- I talk how I write, or vice versa.)

Anyway, I love mail, even if I'm not good at it. But a few weeks ago, my friend Carla lamented on facebook (oh, the irony!), I think it would be nice to drop out of the social network and go back to sending real letters on real stationery with real photographs enclosed. I, along with a few other people Liked it and agreed with her, and as facebook comments evolved into conversation, it was decided that postcards were the way to go. Quick, quirky and fun, cheaper to buy and send, and not a long letter commitment. And everyone loves getting postcards, unless they're of scary Apocalypse Clowns. (Though some people like scary Apocalypse Clowns, I'm sure.)

And thus,The Great Postcard Project was born!

Here is the Mission and Vision statement from Carla:

Not so very long ago, people communicated in ways that did not require clicking a Send button.
Pen pals, family members and businesses used handwritten messages to send information.

Sending postcards may not change the world but they cause us to connect with each other in a tangible way that gives the recipient more than just another message in their email account Inbox. And after all, who doesn't like receiving postcards in the mail?

The possibilities are almost limitless!

The basic guidelines are simple:
Send a postcard to someone you know.
Send a postcard to at least one person you've never met (you may have to enlist your friends/family/coworker/neighbors to help with this part)
Put your return address or the address of someone else on the postcards to keep the Project going.
Keep it friendly. It is a criminal offense in most countries to send obscene or threatening messages through the mail.
Be creative! Make your own postcards or customize existing ones.
Finally, tell your friends! There was a time when people had pen pals instead of 900 virtual friends. Let's see if there is some value in real written communication.

The Great Postcard Project began in January 2011 as a global experiment to see if an expanding network of people will connect with each other in a non-digital way that involves just a small amount of energy, effort and sincerity. Postcards were chosen as the primary means of communication due to their availability, reasonable cost and potential for creativity.

Just a few weeks ago, I was cleaning out my desk and I found a box of postcards -- a stack of received ones that I read over and it was so nice. It was almost like a journal: Oh, this is from when Leslie moved to Brooklyn and This is from Lara and Leah from Prague and That was the year Barb and I went to Vegas for Elvis's High Holy Day and What was Scotty on when he wrote THIS? It was so fun going through them -- feeling nostalgic, but also happy that my friends took the time to write me a postcard.

Also in the box was a HUGE stack of un-mailed postcards. A bunch of them were from when bars used to have those free advertising postcard kiosks, and I'd grabbed a bunch I liked and for some reason held onto them -- maaaybe I'd send them someday. But then there were lots more from when I worked at the bookstore -- simply images I loved and had held onto, thinking I'd never find them again. And more beloved images that had hung up on my bulletin boards and on dorm room walls, kept for sentimentality. But then I realized I was hoarding these postcards. Now with the internet, all these images are in easy grasp, and the ones that aren't I can scan if I needed to. I made up my mind to eventually deal with it, and put the box away and finished cleaning my desk.

Just a few weeks later, Carla posted her idea, and I was thrilled. An excuse to send out these postcards and free them into the world and make people happy! I jumped in feet first -- SUPER enthusiastically.

So far I've sent about 40 postcards to friends and strangers, and have gotten some really fabulous ones back -- some from people I know, and some from strangers which is fun. And I still have a list of people who will be getting one -- I decided that instead of doing a bunch at a time, I'll do a few a night to stretch the project out for a while, and I won't burn out.

Some of the postcards I've gotten, and some to send

Even the most fabulous publisher ever (and publisher of the most fabulous postcard books ever, Chronicle Books, got wind of our project and featured it in their blog! Click here and check it out!

And it's been so great -- I've heard from people that just getting the postcards made their day better. Isn't that what it's all about? And personally, opening the mailbox and seeing something nice (instead of scary clowns and parking tickets) has made me so happy. I don't even care if I get many back -- it's the sending that I've enjoyed so much. Even actually GOING TO THE POST OFFICE to buy stamps has been fun, which is weird.

Please join the group and join the fun!The Great Postcard Project on facebook And it's easy -- just send postcards to people from whom you already have addresses (you MUST have your old non-digital address book around somewhere!) and ask your friends for their friends' addresses and send some of those along, too. And hey, if you want me to send you a postcard, send me an email -- nsparkle at earthlink.net.

If this project picks up steam (and I really hope it does!), postcards will be mailed all over the world. Think of how many people that can be affected in a positive way -- that's a nice thought. And the USPS will LOVE YOU FOR IT.

And maybe you'll be lucky enough to receive a 3D POODLE!!!

And yeah, okay. So this Accomplishment was supposed to be "Write a Real Letter," but I feel Accomplished sending out a bunch of little ones. Baby steps, I suppose. Hey, there are stamps involved. That counts, right?

Thirty-nine down, 58 to go.

2011 = My Sheila E Year

2011-02-05T16:16:00.000-08:00

Hello, dear Followers!

Wow. If this blog's archives are any indication, I Accomplished ONE thing in 2010. Which, actually, sounds about right. Okay, let me think. In 2010 I... Um... I... Hmmm.

Yeah, pretty much right on the mark. Though I did win the Batter Blaster contest which was awesome and did The SF AIDS Walk again, which does my heart good. And I've sold some Tupperware, so that's an Accomplishment -- even though I'm not exactly the busiest Tupperware Lady on the planet. I wish I could do it more, but life gets in the way of Fantastic Plastic and Accomplishing stuff.

But as far as a personal Accomplishment, this was a highlight: I got to stay at The Algonquin Hotel which has been a dream of mine since I was a freshman in high school and discovered Dorothy Parker and wanted to be JUST LIKE HER. They even gave me a FRUIT PLATE and a stuffed Matilda cat, but I have a feeling they thought I was someone else. Like someone famous or important, and I didn't want to correct them and have them take my fruit plate back. But I did become quite a bit like Dorothy Parker after a few drinks in the lobby, so actually that fruit plate came in quite handy the next morning when I wasn't feeling so hot. I love The Gonk!

I bet Dorothy Parker never got a fruit plate.

But, honestly, I did make it another year and had a good time. My family and friends are well, and I am thankful for them all. I read a lot of great books, went to a very special wedding, traveled a bit, eliminated baggage, and got a new couch. So 2010 was pretty good, even if it was LAZY. I blame GETTING SNUGGIE-FIED.

In any case, my resolutions for this year are actually attainable, so that I can Accomplish them. One of them is to get dressed up more often, which I already have:

Taco Bellas

My friend Carrie (in the middle, and you MUST read her blog) had this genius idea to celebrate her birthday at Taco Bell, with a Black Tie dress code. How fabulous is that? Champagne and chalupas are super bueno, and it was so much fun!

My second resolution of the year is to wear more hats, and I've gotten to do that, too:

The Dames!

My friend Dorinda started a fun new "club" called Les Dames Du Gateau. It's a West Coast chapter/homage to The Dames du Boeuf, a fabulous New York gathering of ladies who dine in old school restaurants. My friend Pearl is a member of that group, and I've always thought it was a wonderful idea -- so when Doe invited me to join the Bay Area bunch, I was thrilled. I have to say, it's my most favorite thing that has happened to me in 2011 -- an excuse to get dressed up and dine in fancy old restaurants with such wonderful company and sparkling conversation? YES, PLEASE! We've gone twice now and each time I've felt as if I've been walking on air. I didn't wear a hat last time, but still, look how marvelous:

Ladies in the swanky I. Magnin's Ladies Lounge, THEE place to meet. Photo courtesy of Doe.

So basically, my New Year's Resolution is to be more like Sheila E and live the glamorous life. And to win a million dollars and lose like 50 pounds and get invited to Kate and William's wedding, but whatevs. All in good time.

And, yet again, to get back on this blogging train. It's kind of like yoga. I sort of dread it because it's kind of hard and awkward but I love it while I'm doing it and then I feel even better after I'm done -- it's just the motivation to hunker down. (Hunker downward dog? Okay, that was really bad. I couldn't resist.) But I've got some tricks up my sleeve and Accomplishments Accomplished, so stay tuned.

Enough with the blathering -- onward and upward, whatever that means. Wheee!

xoxo

A BIG THANK YOU FOR A HUGE ACCOMPLISHMENT!!!

2010-09-22T15:44:00.000-07:00

Hey ya'll, Remember my last post? About contests? Well, today I just want to write a quick post and say thank you for helping my friend Eartha with the Biggest Accomplishment EVER: THEY WON!!!!!!!!!!!

Eartha and Jack got the most votes in the Kozy Shack contest, and now The Pudding Patrol is coming to their house, which is a prize in ITSELF. And then they get to choose an envelope and it could have ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN IT -- which means that Nashville will get an animal shelter! (See what good people they are? If I won a million dollars, I'd buy shoes and old furniture and name brand hairspray instead of the cheap stuff and junk like that.)

I am so excited for my friends, and so excited that I happen to be in their hometown tonight and get to celebrate with them! So wherever you are, raise a glass, eat some pudding, and pat yourselves on the backs and know that I am so thankful to all of you for helping my friends' dream come true. YAY!!!

xoxoxo

CONTESTS!!!

2010-09-12T11:10:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody!

Okay, you know how it was my New Year's Resolution to win a contest? Guess what. I DID!!!

I entered a Batter Blaster contest! Have you ever heard of Batter Blaster? It's AWESOME -- Organic pancake mix in a CAN. (A recyclable can, FYI.) I know that sounds gross, but I swear, it isn't. It's DELICIOUS. And it keeps winning prizes for innovation and tastiness... and the best part? You can FINALLY make decent Mickey Mouse pancakes. (Personally, I prefer stars.)

So I won a Batter Blaster Party pack: coupons for delicious Batter Blaster (it's refrigerated, so it's not like they can send cans), Batter Blaster tee shirts for the whole family, aprons, hats, balloons and magnets. I was stoked! Check them out:

Batter Blaster!

They even have a cute theme song. I heart Batter Blaster!

But here is something I heart even more, and is way important. My dear friend Eartha Kitsch has entered a contest for Kozy Shack Pudding. If she wins, the PUDDING PATROL COMES TO HER HOUSE. Which is super awesome. But what's even MORE awesome and inspiring is that if she wins the grand prize of A MILLION DOLLARS (to be said in a Dr. Evil tone of voice), she is opening an animal shelter in Nashville, TN. Here are her words:

Today, I read this on our neighborhood internet board and feel so sad. I am amazed and so glad that the lady stopped to save the pup as so many people would never get involved. ...At the same time, I am so saddened by constantly hearing of these stories in my city - and all over. I ask you from the bottom of my heart to ...please vote for us as often as you can. If we can win the grand prize of a million dollars, we can start our animal rescue and do so much good for the animals that need us. Here is the post that I am referring to:

"I am an elementary school teacher and today as I was leaving school, I saw two boys beating a puppy. They were holding her by her tail and hitting her with their fists and sticks. I immediately got out of my car, yelled at the boys and took the puppy. She has no tags and has obviously not been cared for. Sheis a lab mix...black with white around her neck and on her nose. She
is very good natured and playful! I honestly can NOT keep this
puppy. I already have a dog and live in a tiny apartment...no place
for a puppy! If anyone wants a puppy or is willing to help find her a
home, please let me know!!!! Thanks!"

Not only do the circumstances of that poor pup sadden me but also what must be going on in the lives of those children. It's well proven that children who harm animals quite often grow up to harm people as well. With all of my heart, I want to be able to have the funding to get out there and not only rescue and find homes for the abandoned and abused animals but also, it would be such a great service to try and set up a program to talk to children about animal cruelty.

I feel kind of weird asking for votes this way but reading that post fueled my desire to be able to help - and in a big way. Thanks y'all. Eartha

So please vote for Eartha! there are only 3 days left, and you can vote each day -- and for every vote, Kozy Shack donates ten cents to The National Coalition For Women With Heart Disease. So just one click a day helps so many... and YOU feel ACCOMPLISHED!

Please vote for Eartha, won't you?

Earthakitch Kozy Shack!

And honestly, she DOES have the best photo:

Thanks, everybody!

But seriously, I'm STILL waiting for Ed McMahon. Sigh.

Accomplishment #38: Get a Job (#75)

2010-08-05T11:58:00.000-07:00

My very first job, fittingly enough, was volunteering at a thrift shop in junior high. My mom made me join a charity organization where we did things like meet and eat cookies and write letters to old people and work at the organization's thrift store, all things that looked great on college applications and bettered the community. While my pre-teen cohorts thought it was stinky and weird, I looooved it. I loved looking through the donation bags and ringing up 10 cent sales, and I especially loved bringing home kooky vintage clothes and old books, and my mom couldn't protest because she was the one who made me do it in the first place. (See? My path of weirdness was ALL MY MOM'S FAULT.)

My second job was a one day stint. In 9th grade, my friend's dad worked for Coca Cola, and a new product was being tested on the market -- a little thing called "Diet Coke." (Fittingly enough.) He told us that he would give us $50 if we went to grocery stores and gave out little samples in Dixie Cups to get people interested. That sounded great, but the day before my shift, I went to Santa Cruz and got a sunburn so bad I barfed and blistered, and even more painful -- I had to wear all white, so I had to borrow a pair of my mom's white polyester pants. I thought I was going to die as I stood there for 8 hours, sick and miserable, looking like a giant Diet Coke can all sunburned in white polyester and listening to people tell me that it tasted like "swill." I cried the whole way home, but later happily spent my $50 on junk like Oingo Boingo records and Maybelline lip gloss. He never called us to do it again -- obviously Diet Coke took off and didn't need sunburned, poly-clad teenagers handing out samples in Dixie Cups. (Too bad. The money was awesome.)

Later on in high school I got a job in a cool bookstore cafe, and worked in other bookstores all through college and beyond. (Even though I had all that nice stuff on my college applications about volunteering, I still went ahead and chose ENGLISH as a major, aka -- "Do what you love, but the money sure as hell won't follow." And then I went and did it AGAIN, getting an MFA, aka, "Do what you love, but the money sure as hell won't follow -- but Sallie Mae sure as hell will." Sigh.) And that Saturday afternoon thrift shop volunteering paid off -- I worked in a vintage store for many years, too.

Now I've had the same job for several years and I really do like it, but a while ago, I realized that it would be awfully nice to have some pocket money, too. (That darn Sallie Mae and her friend Visa. They sound so nice, but they aren't!) I'd like to say that I decided to rely heavily on my MFA and mad skillz and get paid for writing, but considering this is my 3rd blog post in a year, we all know how that's working out. Of course I'd like to win the lottery, but there's a big problem with that -- you actually have to play the lottery. (Though one time I won $6.) And Ed McMahon is dead, so no one's going to show up at my door with a big check and balloons.

You'd think if they won millions of dollars, they'd invest in better hairdos.

A few years ago, I was watching "The American Experience" on PBS and there was a show about Brownie Wise, the woman who revolutionized Tupperware. She was fabulous. Chic and chapeauxed, she made selling plastic at parties sound like the best thing since patented air-tight seals. And oohhh, the Tupperware! Who knew that keeping food fresh for longer could be so fun and fabulous? And save you money? AND you could go to parties where you get to eat delicious snacks and shop AT THE SAME TIME? AND MAKE MONEY OR GET FREE TUPPERWARE? "Anyone want to have a Tupperware party?" I asked my friends. "Um, NO," was the reply, which burped the air right out of my sails.

Then a few months ago, a friend posted something on facebook, saying she needed to do something, too -- Tupperware or Avon -- and I thought, "Finally! Someone's into it!" I responded that I'd love to do it, and then my gay homecoming date from my senior year college (yeah, I know, but actually ALL of my homecoming dates in college were gay) put us in touch with a director, a fabulous drag queen named Dixie Longate. (Emphasis on the "Dix," darlings.) And thus, a Tupperware Empire was born!

After we met Dixie via phone and got our samples (ooohhh, the samples!), we needed to channel Brownie Wise's fabulosity and get "uniforms":

So our custom made dresses were made by the amazing Martha Egan, one of my most favorite local designers -- she is simply wonderful! Check out her etsy shop:
Poppy Frockstar (convo her for requests!)

It was perfect -- here was a way to wear a Martha Egan dress and roll the whole "Mid-Century Supper Club Potluck" into a roaming party! I loved the whole slant of making it Mid-Century (with my friends, that isn't hard), but also, as I discovered when I got my sample kit in the mail -- Tupperware is REALLY GOOD STUFF. Not kidding. I can't believe I wasted all those years and dollars on crummy Gladware. Yuck!)

But then it was time to have a real party, which was actually a little scary. It's all fun and good to talk about it, but getting up and doing it is pretty daunting. So we had a trial one at my house with friends and it turned out to be super fun:

Fantastic plastic!

Audience Participation with Jennye demonstrating THE BEST CAN OPENER IN THE UNIVERSE

And then we were off into the world!

Chips sold separately

Brownie would be proud

One of the best things is that everyone gets into the Mid-Century Spirit!

AND we got to meet our mentor, Dixie Longate! (Who is nice as can be and a terrific boss.)

And here she is, showing off the AMAZING Vent'n'Serve. And the colors are Peacock and Meadow. How divine is that?

So yes, I am an Official Tupperware Lady. And I even have the badge to prove it!

from Liana Kabel on etsy

I must admit -- at first I thought it would be a lark, something kitschy and campy and vintage-y to do, but I discovered that I really, really like it. To get up in front of a crowd and present and sell something is more than a little daunting, but to be honest, even though I get super, super nervous and forget to breathe at first, I think it's fun. And once it gets going it's especially fun when people are engaged and talk and participate -- and with Tupperware, it's super easy to do. (And when there's a combo of cocktails and T-ware, it gets REALLY crazy and fun!) Plus I've gotten to go to so many cute houses, and have met the nicest people and have had such a blast!

I even got a shout out on one of my most favorite blogs, Strawberry Lemonade!!! (Speaking of meeting the nicest people -- Alex is a DREAM.) Tupperware Party on Strawberry Lemonade!

And I'm not kidding, Tupperware is AWESOME. It goes so beyond what is normally thought of as "Tupperware." I was so surprised and impressed -- "Tupperware" always gets lumped into one big category of any plastic container in which you put leftovers. SO NOT TRUE. Not only is it stronger and more durable than those containers you get in the grocery store, it's safer, too -- in a recent Good Housekeeping test, Tupperware came out on top as having the lowest level of BPA emissions out of any product in the market. Not only that, it cuts down on landfill by eliminating the need for plastic bags and plastic wrap and bottles by being re-usable and sustainable. AND it saves you money -- by buying in bulk food is cheaper, plus it doesn't go bad as quickly if you store it in Tupperware, and you wind up eating it all instead of letting it turn into a gooey mess in your fridge drawer. How genius is that?

Plus it's CUTE:

Doesn't it go great with barkcloth??? And look at that cute avocado!

And there is sooooo much good stuff -- the Quick Chef is the coolest thing I've ever used -- it's a "manual" food processor, and I swear, I have not shed a tear since I've gotten it, thus saving me money on mascara! And the Fridge Smarts... I had spinach for over 2 weeks that STAYED FRESH, and strawberries that lasted DAYS. And the Vent'n'Serve containers are so good -- they heat up leftovers (another money saver!) perfectly. And the BEST Can Opener EVER that unseals rather than cuts, and the Cupcake Carrier carries your cupcakes with style and grace (and they don't end up in the street, which has happened to me TWICE)and the Squeeze It Decorator makes deviled eggs a dream come true... Sigh. See? I'm not kidding. It sounds like I drank the Kool-Aid, but I drank it from a Tupperware Tumbler (with vodka)and I am hooked and happy!

You, too, can be hooked and happy:

My Tupperware Website!

Click to check it out, shop or if you want to have a party, message me and I'll be happy to help!

I even have a FACEBOOK FAN PAGE. (Okay, everyone's CAT has a facebook fan page so it's not THAT special and I made it myself, but still... LIKE it!)

Most people would say that they've come a looong way since their first jobs, but you know, I really haven't. I still like to meet and eat cookies and wear kooky and fun clothes with a vintage spin, and give away samples and sell great stuff and drink a lot of Diet Coke. And, well, I still spend my hard earned cash on junk like Oingo Boingo records and Maybelline lip gloss. (Sigh.) And then write all about it later. So okay, maybe I've got arrested development or I could go with that I knew exactly who I was when I was 12, but you know -- doing what you love may not get money to follow, but doing what you love is an Accomplishment. And I'll definitely go with that.

And if I don't ever have to wear white polyester again, I'll be even happier.

Thirty-eight down, 59 to go.

Something special for YOU!

2010-07-06T20:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know, I haven't posted because;

A. I am lazy
B. I am BEYOND lazy
c. I am the laziest person ever in the history of lazy people.

But one thing I have been working on is one of my New Year's Resolutions: to win a contest. I have entered at least TWO contests this year, and I am still waiting for my winning phone call. Sigh.

But my dear friends, I have a contest for YOU! My dear friend Eartha Kitsch has a birthday today, and in commemoration she has started a blog (I have been waiting for this day for AGES) and as a "blogwarming," she is having a contest with fantastic prizes!

And trust me, the girl knows fantastic prizes. Not only did she send me a box of kitchmas this weekend, she also sent me home from my last visit with her with this:

You see, all of my garden gnomes were gnomenapped earlier this year and I am STILL mourning. (You can say what you will about the Gnome Liberation Army and all that, but my gnomes were well loved and cared for and they loved me and now they are somewhere unfamiliar and SCARED and I hate the people who took them and I blame the gnomenappers for lack of blog posts.) Eartha knew this and gave a new friend. His name is Waffles. So how could you NOT want to enter a contest and follow a blog run by such a lovely lady? I promise, you'll love her as much as I do.

Check out Ranch Dressing With Eartha Kitsch!

So see? This is an Accomplishment -- I have given you the gift of Eartha Kitsch!

More later, darlings! Enjoy and good luck!

BAH.

2010-04-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

Good God, how is it almost MAY? The year is halfway over, and I have yet to win a contest (and I even entered one!) or update my blog.

Oh, but I will. You should just SEE my accomplishments. For example:

I have worn a different outfit every day for over 30 days. Yes, I did. It's mostly in order to justify the junk I have in my closet, to break out of my jeans and tee shirt rut, and to make sure I don't buy any more clothes. Clearly I have too many.

I have done the Wii Fit exactly 3 times all year. It reprimands me when I step on the power board, so I'm scared of it. And I've gained 5 pounds.

I just burned the roof of my mouth by eating a too hot fried egg. Sigh.

Actually, there is one that I've been working on in earnest, so stay tuned! (And thanks for staying with me if you have. xoxo)

Happy New Year!!!

2010-01-09T15:22:00.000-08:00

Whoo HOO!!! HAPPY 2010!!! PAR-TAY!

Whoops. I'm even a little late for that. Geez, we've even had another holiday since then, aka High Holy Day, aka Elvis Presley's Birthday. It would have been his 75th. And I was totally hoping that The Cosmos would have aligned and by some fluke this would have been my 75th blog post and we all could have freaked out and said, "No way!" but... not even close. Sigh. Sorry, Elvis. I haven't been TCB-ing. (That would be "Takin' Care of Business," one of Elvis's mottoes and many a tattoo and tacky jeweled medallion.)

This photo is astounding and I don't know what it has to do with this entry, but when I googled "TCB" this is what came up. I mean THIS is serious business being taken care of. Elvis, Jack Lord, and some lady in a crazy, fabulous outfit. From the great wfmu blog: http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2008/08/charlie-feather.html

So yeah, it is that time of year to make resolutions, and I made 3:

1. To win a contest (Any contest, preferably no purchase or skill needed)
2. To update the blog more
3. I already forgot the third one, because that was 9 days ago.

I'm at the point in my blog where I actually have to PLAN stuff. I can't just wake up and do #71, Understand How A Farm Works. I need to find a farm. (And no, I don't mean Boone's Farm Wine. I already learned how it works in college: open bottle, drink, tell everyone you love them and offer people sips, barf, wake up the next day and vow never to drink again... on a Tuesday night during Finals.) I have to FIND a Mountain To Climb (#47). And I have to (#83) Learn Basic Car Maintenance super fast, because my rear tire has a slow leak and I've been too cheap to buy a new tire, and I don't think that's wise. (I suppose I will find out, hmmm?) There is just so much to do, and alll I've been doing is this:

That's right. I got Snuggie-fied for Christmas. It's a dangerous. cozy, cozy thing. The main Accomplishment, once you are Snuggied, is to get from the couch to kitchen without tripping and falling and breaking your teeth.

But I just wanted to check in and let you all know that I am still dedicated and will be posting in the new year. After all, the book is called "97 Things To Do Before You Finish High School," right? And high school is 4 years long. I've got PLENTY of time. I didn't want to be an old acquaintance you all forgot and never brought to mind or on your blog list and all that Auld Lang Syne stuff.

And I wanted to wish you all a happy, happy new year and I look forward to "seeing" you all in 2010!

xoxoxo

Back on my Soapbox

2009-11-05T08:30:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Now that Halloween is out of the way, I want to alert you to the next Major Holiday: NATIONAL BOOKSTORE DAY on November 7th!

I know, you probably thought I was going to say Thanksgiving, right? Well, this is a way of giving thanks to your local independent bookseller who works hard to ensure you have good books to read and reference, who builds your community, who, in my opinion, makes the world go 'round. Sure, you can go to Wal-Mart or Target or Amazon, but they are literally (no pun intended) killing the book business, turning books into product instead of enrichment. And killing off these jewels of independent bookstores, and a world without them will be bleak. I'm sorry, but can you imagine going into Wal-Mart and asking, "My friend is in the hospital and I want to get her a good, lighthearted book to read that will take her mind off things. What can you recommend?" or "What was that book... [snap snap snap]It was in the Sunday Times about two weeks ago..." or "Do you have that book, um, it's blue..." (And yes. These were all questions people asked me when I worked in a bookstore. My favorite: "Do you have a book on glands?" Yeah. We did.) And Amazon? People get blinded by discounts, and trust me. They recommend books for you, but they don't know you -- but they sure have your credit card number on file.

If you've been reading this blog for a while (or shall I say, bearing with the inconsistent posts), you know it's something I am so passionate about. See here. I am deeply worried that these booksellers are going under, and that print itself is going to be extinct. (But I'm not even going to get into the e-book discussion. That's a whole 'nother can o' worms.)

So come and do your part -- visit your local bookseller on Saturday and show them some love! Many stores are having events and specials, so it promises to be fun and rewarding. For more information, here's an excellent article with the chilling last line: Books make great gifts. Go to your favorite bookstore this Saturday and buy someone a gift in commemoration of National Bookstore Day. While you still can.

So... allow me to step into my old bookseller role and recommend some gems:

Olive Kitteride by Elizabeth Strout. I just finished this last night. Beautiful, astute, and winner of the 2009 Pulitzer Prize. But don't let that stop you.

The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love by Oscar Hijuelos. Another Pulitzer winner -- and one of my all time favorites. The movie was an abomination, as they usually are, but the book is wonderful.

Behind The Scenes At The Museum by Kate Atkinson. I LOVED this book. I cried when I was finished, and STILL miss the characters.

A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving. You know how there are those books that you wish you could recapture the magic of reading for the very first time because it was so special? This one is mine.

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore. I just finished her latest one a few days ago, and it was beautifully crafted, but this collection is a masterpiece. She leaves me breathless at what an amazing writer and wordsmith she is.

The Yokota Officer's Club by Sarah Bird. This is a book I bought for the cover, and judged correctly. It's fabulous.

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. You don't have to be a teenager to appreciate and be moved by this Young Adult novel -- it blew me away.

Wolf Boy by Evan Kuhlman. Jon was reading this part graphic novel, part coming of age story, and I picked it up to see what it was all about. He didn't get it back until I was finished reading it -- it only took a few days because I loved it so much.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon. You don't have to be a comic book nerd to succumb to the utter joy of this book. Chabon is an excellent writer and his recent interview on NPR about his comic book club made me teary. I also saw him at a local restaurant a few weeks ago. Whatever, just read it.

The Idiot Girls Action Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro. OMG, I LOVE these books. They made me laugh out loud and write her a fan email and we totally became friends on myspace. LOVE HER.

Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, edited by David Sedaris. I hope to God you have read David Sedaris by now. (If not, don't wait til Nat'l Bookstore Day, GO NOW.) But you may or may not know about this collection of his favorite stories he edited and introduced, proving that Mr. Sedaris is not only an excellent writer, but he has excellent taste as well.

ANYTHING BY DOROTHY PARKER. I totally stole this beautiful image from somewhere on the internet. But it represents my favorite writer (next to Judy Blume). She may be my biggest influence in life. Which may or may not be a good thing. Pick up some of her books and judge for yourself. (And her biography, "What Fresh Hell is This" by Marion Meade is the best biography I've ever read.)

College Girls by Lynn Peril. This book needs to be given to every woman to show that yes, we have come a long way, babies. And never, ever take your education for granted. But it's not a lecture, it's an excellent and entertaining read by one of my favorite authors, whom you may recognize from her monthly column in BUST Magazine.

Pink Think by Lynn Peril. Another Peril, another favorite. Women and men alike should read this book. Peril writes about women's history in a way that doesn't make you feel uncomfortable or bored or that you signed up for a class -- she makes it accessible and makes you think. (But not Pink Think.) An utterly fantastic -- and Important -- book.

Alligators, Old Mink and New Money by Alison and Melissa Houtte. For all you vintage girls out there -- I adored this book. It was the closest account of working in a vintage store that was like the shop I worked in for many years, and it made me sweetly nostalgic and inspired. I think any fans of vintage would enjoy it.

Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart. Another recommendation for the vintage ladies out there, this sweet book is the story of Mrs. hart's summer working at "The Mothership" (as I call it) during the 40's. especially poignant is the chapter in which WWII ends and New York becomes a victory party.

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote. I'd be remiss not to mention this one, one of my all time favorite books. If you've only seen the movie, go out and get this book. I guarantee, it will change your mind. the movie, even with Audrey Hepburn's gorgeous splendor, is NOTHING compared to this book. (And Mickey Rooney is an abomination.) This may be one of the most well-crafted books I've ever read. And my God. LOOK at this new cover!

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Truman Capote's best friend. And this is the most perfect book ever written. Don't argue. Even if you haven't read it since you were forced to in Freshman English, revisit it. You're welcome.

Crazy in Alabama by Mark Childress. Going along with the Southern theme, this book is so wonderful, and like "Mambo Kings," the movie was a despicable piece of garbage. Erase the memory. Read the book. Fall in love with Pee-Joe.

A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor. You didn't think you could say "South" and "literature" and NOT mention Miss Flannery? She is the High Priestess of Southern Gothic and odd humor, and I love her so much it makes my toes curl. The title story is the best short story I have ever read, possibly ever written. You will never forget it.

Carolinas, Georgia and The South Trips, Lonely Planet. And what a dream it would be to take a Southern road trip and go to all the places in these books. And not just in the South -- Lonely Planet has 6 of these guides for all over the US. And about a jillion guides for all over the world. Lonely Planet is the best travel guidebook and source. Seriously.

Okay, that's enough --sorry I got so carried away! There are so many more I could tell you about, but these were all off the top of my head.

So please go on Saturday to your local independent bookstore. And if you can't make it, there are online options (not Amazon, it defeats the purpose) -- I heard that Powells.com is running a National Bookstore Day special, and you can also check with indie bound.

I know, it's kind of sad that we even have to declare National Bookstore Day, because every day should be National Bookstore Day and we shouldn't need to worry. But we gotta do what we gotta do... and I'm happy to do this. Pass it along and hope you make it out to your local bookseller -- it's a win win!

Thanks, all. Off the Soapbox now!

Na-No-No-No... for me anyway.

2009-11-01T09:27:00.000-08:00

Ohhh, November 1st. How did you get here so quickly?

When I was little, I loved November 1st because it was the official start of CHRISTMAS. My best friend Monica and I would dump out our Halloween candy onto the living room floor and sort it into A, B, and "Give it to Dad Because He Likes The Gross Candy" piles, all while listening to Bert Kaempfert's "Christmas Wonderland" on 8-track and maniacally plotting our Christmas lists. (And making up dance routines to "Sleigh Ride." We were eating A LOT of sugar.)

the gateway album

Apparently, Target et al thinks it's the start of Christmas, too, because I've gotten quite a few emails today about it. (Free Shipping!) But t'is the season for something way more important and interesting. (And Free Everything!)

Today is the kickoff for NaBloPoMo -- National Blog Posting Month. Each day, for 30 days, participants must blog. (For more info, go here: NaNoBloMo) I really hope you all sign up and do it! While I love the whole idea, I will be doing y'all a favor and NOT doing it -- can you imagine if you had to read this junk 30 days in a row? Ohhh, I could write at you for 30 days in a row, sure, but it would all be mundane stuff you don't want to read about, like what I ate for dinner or what I wore to work or what I'm listening to. Oh. Whoops.

And it's also the kickoff for National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo) -- and this I highly recommend. For the month of November, you WRITE WRITE WRITE, every day... and the goal is a 50,000 word novel. (For more info, please go here: NaNoWriMo Official Website) Sounds crazy I know, right? But I'm telling you, it's the most wonderful thing in the world. Because yeah, I'm totally lame and Unaccomplished in Many Areas (I kill houseplants, remember), but I actually Accomplished this. And it's one of the best things I ever did.

I did it when I had just graduated and was still unemployed, so I had the time and no excuse. And every morning I woke up and started writing. I actually couldn't wait to get up and start, which is a far cry from my usual mornings. I logged in my word count on the website every day. (And as you can tell from this blog, I have no problem being long-winded and wordy.) And on November 30th, I had 50,000 plus words, and a week after that I had an entire novel written. I remember driving to my friends' house that night and blasting "Rosemary" by The Dickies (my inspiration song), and I could not stop smiling and squealing. If they could bottle that feeling I had, we'd all be hooked and no one would ever be sad again. And my friend Leslie and I went to the wrap up party at The Rickshaw Stop and I got a NaNoWriMo tee shirt and a sash and we drank cocktails and danced to Hey Ya by Outkast with people I had absolutely nothing in common with, except that we had all written novels. And it was AWESOME.

I'm not going participate this year, but instead I am going to pull out that Long-Neglected and Very Bad Novel and re-read it and start to edit it. (Writing's the fun part. Editing makes me think that being skinned alive sounds more fun.) So for the next thirty days, I am going to get back into the spirit, and see what I can do with it, if anything. I am going to listen to "Rosemary" by The Dickies to bring back that moment of triumph and inspiration, and instead of cringing and collapsing Word when I run into a particularly spectacular gaffe, I am going to soldier on. (And cringe anyway.)

But hey, no matter what, I still can say that I Wrote A Novel, and that is fantastic. And I encourage all of you to do the same. Because seriously? If I can, so can you.

So for all you NaNoBloMoWriMos out there -- best of luck! I know you can do it!

(And here is Rosemary by The Dickies, a perfect, happy pop song for your listening and inspirational pleasure. Be sure to have a song of your own -- it's IMPORTANT.)

Now get going! Yay!!!!

BOO yah.

2009-10-28T20:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, my main Accomplishment this Halloween will be to not eat my weight in candy. (Which I could easily do.) I do, however, need some motivation to get into the spirit, though I am determined to finally be Little Edie this year, even if I just stay home and protect our pumpkins from goblins (aka neighborhood teenage thugs). But really, is Little Edie all that much of a stretch? I don't even have to BUY anything for that costume, except maybe Wonder Bread and a raccoon.

So yeah, I need inspiration. I haven't even hung up our Halloween decorations. I don't even know where they ARE. But we did carve pumpkins on Sunday, which is something. And they will be nice and moldy and therefore scary by Saturday -- so really, I hope the thugs do smash 'em so I don't have to touch anything gross. (Insert sinister laugh here.)

Halloween circa 1972. The scariest thing about this picture is my hair.

So if you're like me and need motivation to summon your inner zombie, here are some links:

Last year's post,in which I blather on about past costumes

And

For beautiful spooky photos and songs, go to my friend Dania's blog, All Eyes and Ears

And

Like Dynamite to Your Brain is posting creepy goodness for your listening pleasure

And

The Fabulous Dusty of Cotton Candy Truant has been posting scary gems (and other stuff that rocks my world)

And

Neato Coolville is in its Neato Ghoulville incarnation

And

The year-round delicious The Girl Can't Help It tricks and treats

And

A delicious recipe

And

One of the best things EVER, from The Haunted Mansion:

And I know there are so many more blogs getting in the spirit -- feel free and post links in the comments. Trust me, I need all the help and motivation I can get.

And I need to get more candy. All the Milk Duds are already gone.

Happy Halloween, y'all!!!

Accomplishment #37: Participate in a New Cultural Tradition (#44)

2009-10-25T20:30:00.000-07:00

When I was 9, my dad, much like Mr. Brady, had to go to Hawaii on business, and he brought the whole family along. (You may remember this from here.) My parents stayed in a 2 floor suite (the "Na P'ali Suite") at the ultra swank Kauai Surf Hotel, while my sisters and I stayed at the Plantation Hale Motel a few miles away. At first I thought that it would be exciting, but my sisters' absolute distaste at being stuck in a motel room with their obnoxious little sister kind of put a damper on the whole experience. And really, could you blame them? They were 19 and 23. In Hawaii. In their own hotel room. And then there was me: "HIIIII! Let's go SWIMMING! Let's watch TV! Let's play CARDS! I'm HUNGRY! I'm SUNBURNED! I didn't MEAN to spill! I miss the dog and all my friends! Nancy Drew saw a hula dancing ghost in Hawaii! This is like the Brady episode where Bobby finds the cursed idol and Greg falls off his surfboard! Whatcha doing? Can I go? I don't want to do my homework! I don't want to leave you alone! I'm gonna tell MOM!" You get the picture. Tropical Paradise it was not. At the Plantation Hale Motel anyway.

But at my parents' swanky hotel, where I actually was most of the time, it really was paradise. I'd get dropped off there every morning so my sisters could go do their thing, and I'd head straight to the pool that had a SWIM UP BAR. You literally swam through a waterfall and there was a bar so you could sit in the water and enjoy your cocktail. How amazing is THAT? And since it was IN THE POOL there was no age limit, so I swam up and ordered Shirley Temples and charged them to my dad's room. (I'm sure all the swingin' adults were just thrilled to have a creepy little kid hanging out and staring at them.) It was also the first time I had ever seen umbrellas in drinks, so every day I went down to the pool and asked everyone with a cocktail if I could have their umbrellas. (Charming. My sisters nearly died when they found out. I came home with about a hundred.)

One night, the hotel put on a real live luau, and I couldn't wait. I knew what a luau was -- the Bradys had gone to one and blew into a conch shell -- and I was excited to wear my new, fancy pink and white gingham dress. Except that day I had gotten a brutal sunburn, and by the time the luau rolled around, I was pretty much in blistering agony. But still, I was a trooper:

note: I am not wearing a tank top under my dress. That is a sunburn. But the flower crown did make it feel better.

There was a pig, and lots of drinks, and Mrs. O'Connor (the woman in the center) made me eat poi which I hated. We all sat on the ground (which was a little rough for the adults, and bad for me with the sunburn) and watched fire dancers and hula girls put on a show. But the most amazing thing was right before sunset a helicopter flew over and dropped hundreds of gardenia petals and orchids onto the party. The flowers floated down from the sky like sweet, fragrant snow, and we all gasped and clapped. And I was thrilled when the helicopter dipped like it was taking a bow, and I remember turning to my mom and shouting, "WOW!" with utter joy. The joy was fairly short-lived, however -- I hurt so much that my mom had to take me upstairs to their room and put me to bed with Solarcaine and aspirin.

I remember that trip with such clarity -- asking for those umbrellas; the moment that I thought I saw a quarter at the bottom of the pool (greedy!) and scraping all the skin from my nose when I dove down to get it and seeing swirling blood (consequences for that greed); a maple donut I ate; the cool stillness of the Fern Grotto and the rainbow ice we got on the way there; sucking on sugarcane; getting sucked down by the undertow and nearly drowning (I was a NIGHTMARE child); the groovy orange and blue metallic wallpaper in my parents' room; the hotel gift shop where I got a music box that played The Hawaiian Wedding song... but the memory that sticks with me most is being covered in flower petals, watching the helicopter take a bow. (Whenever I smell gardenias, that's what I think of.)

I've been back to Hawaii once since then (not as fun as the first time: 13, miserable, and got my period for the second time ever so I spent a lot of the time in the room sulking and reading Danielle Steel novels from the gift shop, but I did eat banana flambe in a fancy restaurant!), but long to go again. Of course I want to go on a time travel trip to Hawaii in the 50's or early 60's because it was so amazing back then, and I could buy more crap for our bar. But I'd like to go as an adult so I can actually drink. Um, I mean really appreciate it.

But, alas, since a trip to Hawaii isn't exactly feasible right now (especially a time travel circa 1962 trip), I did the next best thing: I joined forces once again with my Co-Hostess with the Mostess, Jennye (whom you may remember from such posts as winter wonderland extravaganza or mid-century supper clubbing), and we brought Hawaii -- and 1962 -- to Oakland, CA in 2009 for the hoolaulea of the year.

Sure, since a tiki theme is always a favorite, I've been to lots of luaus. LOTS. And though they are always fun and festive, they are really just an excuse to don loud clothes and drink a lot of rum, so really, they are theme parties, not luaus. (Believe me, I am not complaining. I'd go to a tiki party every day of the week if I could.) But since this one was the grand poobah of the Mid Century Potlucks, and since it's always a good idea to learn a new cultural tradition, we stepped it up a notch and did a little bit of research, thanks to my 1950's "How You Can Give Hawaiian Parties" by Patricia Collier, published by Dole Hawaiian Pineapple Company:

I always knew this would come in handy someday.

It is chock full of Hawaiian tips, and I set about trying to become fluent in party Hawaiian from the section, "Hawaiian Words That Are Fun To Use!" Since I only knew stuff like, aloha and mahalo and mai tai and "The Big Kahuna," I thought I'd pepper my conversation with these useful gems:

Haole: White Person or Foreigner
Hoomalimali: To Flatter
Humuhumunukunuku: A Species of Fish
Kaukau: Food
Lomi: To Rub or Massage
Malolo: Flying Fish
Nui: Big, Great
Okole Maluna!: Bottom's Up
Opu: Abdomen
Wai: General Name For Anything Liquid
Wikiwiki: Hurry Up

And I also learned that these were parties for King Kamehameha and his royal bunch, yet they were informal, sitting on the ground and stuff and eating with your fingers and leaves. And according to Mrs. Collier, a luau without Kalua pig is NOT a luau, but a poi supper. And considering I had not so fond memories of poi and we wanted the real deal, we were gonna get a whole damn Kalua PIG.

Initially we were going to get the pig and bury it and roast it, but then Jennye and Aaron, her husband, found whole already roasted pigs in Chinatown for cheaper, so we went with that. And spent weeks planning the backyard Party Of The Year, only to wake up that morning to discover that the ONE TIME is has rained in the state of California in MONTHS was that night and morning. "Hey," Aaron said as we panicked, "It rains EVERY DAY in Hawaii. It's more authentic." So the shindig was still on.

And was it ever. People outdid themselves as usual with amazing food:

And Ono Ono drinks:

Festive luau-wear:

Tiki tunes:

And the pieces des resistances -- not one, but TWO pigs!

But I'll admit -- no one sat on the ground because it was muddy and we used plastic forks. The ukulele player had to cancel. No hula, as we are closer in age to Alice than Cindy and could have potentially thrown out some hips. The limbo was completely forgotten, though an impromptu 80's dance party ensued. (I like to think King Kamehameha would have been pleased.) Plus, I put so much wai in my opu that everything I said sounded vaguely Hawaiian, instead of actually the words I'd studied. And we bombed as judges because we really kept sampling the entries of the liquid alcoholic variety and kept getting distracted.

Would you trust these wahines to be judges? Not a maikai idea.

(For more photos, like you haven't had enough already, go here and here.)

Even though there wasn't a helicopter that scattered flower petals all over our guests like the one in Hawaii when I was nine, it was a fabulous luau. (And this time I wasn't sunburned, and could partake and the delicious rum drinks.) And it was a real luau, thanks to the pigs, we can't wait to do it again next year. I highly recommend it -- it's fun and CULTURAL. How's THAT for an Accomplishment?

Aloha and Maholo!

(And if you do throw one, invite a tech genius who can do stuff like THIS.)

Thirty-seven down, 60 to go.

TOTAL ACCOMPLISHMENT: I'm reading at Litquake's Litcrawl!

2009-10-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, it's been WAY too long between posts, but I have... okay, no excuse. Well, a small excuse.

I was honored to be asked to read at San Francisco's Litquake's Litcrawl on Saturday, Oct. 17th at Double Dutch, SF(16th & Guerrero) with the Rebel Reading Series. I'll be reading my 10 minute opus at 6pm as part of Phase One of the festivities, with four other talented writers: Blag Dahlia, Dan Strachota, Jason Myers and Stephanie Pullen. And that's just phase One -- the whole night is PACKED with talent all over the Mission!

here's the home page:

litquake 2009

and here's the page with MY NAME on it (in small print):

phase one

(I'm telling you, it was so exciting to see my name with such amazing company, and I had to keep from squealing when I saw my name and terrible bio in the program. I'm practically not really famous!)

The topic: Sex, Drugs, and Rock 'n'Roll. I know, right? But here's the craziest thing: IT'S ALREADY WRITTEN. No last minute scrambling this time around -- it's done! Even Mrs. Parker would be proud of me.

I love you, Dottie

So if you're in the area and have been just DYING for an updated post for 97-land (or you're bored and want something FREE to do on Saturday night), come on out -- I'd love to see you there!

And I promise, I will update soon!!!

xoxo

Accomplishment #36: Watch the Sunrise (#95)

2009-08-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, sure -- I have seen a sunrise. But not because I've actually wanted to. It's been more like, "Oh no... What time is it? Oh, UGH." You know those times: staying up too late writing papers (only to hand them in at ten a.m and falling asleep in class); staying up all night studying for the final (only to go to class at ten a.m. and blowing the test because you haven't slept and all you ate was pizza or crackers); staying up too late drinking with friends and when the sky gets light and the light less flattering everyone looks greasy and exhausted and you feel like you've been chewing on a wool blanket (but OMG, that was like, so much fun!)... But I'll admit, the more recent sunrises I've seen have been either because of insomnia or having to get up and get to the airport to catch an ungodly early flight. (That's what happens when you get old, I suppose. Though the other sunrises weren't that long ago.)

So basically, I know they're beautiful and miraculous and everything, but I don't exactly go out of my way to see them. Things that require me to get out of bed early had better be Really Important and involving gifts or keeping my job. Now sunsets -- sunsets are glorious things and I don't have to make too much effort to see those. Those happen when I'm already awake. And living in California, we get such amazing sunsets. One of the most perfect moments of my life was standing up at Coit Tower, and watching the sun set beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. And I hadn't even meant to go there to do it -- it was just one of those lucky right time/ right place miracles. Ohh, California. You're broke and a mess and on fire right now, but I love you so.

But a few weeks ago, we left the Golden State and ventured to Oklahoma. Now, let me beat you to it:

And yes, this song was in my head the ENTIRE time.

Jon's mom bought two houses there -- one in a small town called Hollis, four miles from the Texas border, and another on a lake in a town called Lone Wolf. I wasn't sure what to expect -- I'm used to going to New York or Chicago or somewhere that's GO GO GO, not small little towns where the population is smaller than the number of my facebook friends.

But I have to say -- I loved it. It was so relaxing, the opposite of go go go -- exactly the kind of vacation I needed. It was hot, and yes, the wind totally swept down the plain, though I didn't see any wheat. (We saw lots of cotton.) The sky just seems so much bigger, so much bluer, and with so many more stars. And the lake was gorgeous, with red sand and rocks.

When Jon's mom and everyone left the lake house to go back to Hollis, Jon and I stayed up there for two days and just relaxed. And one morning we woke up when it was still dark outside and walked down to the lake for this Accomplishment.

And I must say, it was amazing.

from the front deck of the lake house

walking to the beach

there

It was awe-inspiring. The colors were so vibrant, and the stillness, with just the sound of waves lapping, felt -- I don't know, sincere somehow. Clean, the way a new day should feel. In the past I dreaded the sunrise -- it meant an end to secretive nighttime hours where everything would be exposed -- my lack of preparation and good judgment, an end to fun and the start of paying for it, the hassle of a journey and responsibilities. But as we stood there and watched it happen, with nothing to do but take it all in, I recognized how much I've missed by not watching them more often and feeling that sense of calm and the miracle that this happens every day. (Who knew?) Sometimes it's easy to forget how amazing nature is when you're surrounded by a city. In the 2 weeks since that sunrise, I've mentally gone back there and just let myself be in the moment.

But when the moment was actually happening, it started to sprinkle and I found Jon's sunglasses that he'd left on the beach the day before and I took a picture of nature's cruelty:

Poor, poor fish.

Thus inspired by the early hour, we actually didn't go back to bed and wound up driving around Oklahoma which was AWESOME and I got to do something I've always wanted to do:

Got my kicks on Route 66!

So for the first time, I watched the sunrise and got it, not dreaded it. I learned to just stop and think a little bit, and just be in that moment. (Until I see a dead fish on a rock and have to squeal and take a picture.) And that, ladies and gentlemen, really is an Accomplishment.

And that Rogers & Hammerstein totally weren't kidding:

Thirty-six down, 61 to go.

Help my friend Accomplish his DREAM!

2009-08-04T14:11:00.001-07:00

I wouldn't normally do this, but I am trying to Accomplish something -- really! -- and help someone Accomplish his DREAM. My friend Johnny Bartlett is going for the Mad Men contest role (the winner gets a Walk On part on our favorite show!), and look at him. He was BORN to play it! (And yes, that is how he always looks.)

If you are so inclined (and love Mad Men like I do), please give the man five stars. And if he wins, you can say you knew him when. Sort of.

VOTE HERE!

You can vote every day until August 11, 2009.

Thanks!

Happy Anniversary... errr, Blog-iversary to me!

2009-08-02T16:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know, hard to believe, but this week marks my one year anniversary into the world of blogspot. I am SO tooting my own horn:

nicked from mademoiselle therese's amazing Corbis Flickr set

So one year ago, I hunkered down and wrote this. I had a plan -- I was going to do an Accomplishment a week and kick some serious bootay. I was going to be an Accomplishment Machine! Naps and inertia were to be things of the past. Every spare moment was going to be spent Making Podcasts (#49), Joining a Political Campaign (#69), and Taking Care of a Houseplant (#81). (Podcast: Uh, not done yet. Political Campaign: Check. Houseplant: Uhhh, I didn't want to tell you guys, but I killed it. I am still ravaged with guilt. Sort of.) If everything had gone according to plan, I'd be sitting pretty with 52 Accomplishments right now, but instead, I'm at 35. Which, actually, is pretty surprising.

I know myself -- I figured that I would get aaaalll excited, be super into it, and then procrastinate and let it lag and die an unspectacular death (and it came dangerously close to that), much like my livejournal and myspace accounts. But oddly enough, that hasn't happened. Okay, so procrastination and naps and inertia are still a very big part of my life, but so is this blog.

Part of the reason I've kept it going is because of scary Google Analytics -- thanks to that, I know that there have been 11,075 views in the past year (I think at least 10,000 are from me checking the blog roll and seeing if I have any comments, because I chose such a stupid name that all emails go straight to my junk filter), the average time on the site is 1:38 (most visits read 0:00), and the bounce rate is 81% (which, apparently, is not good but I don't even know what that MEANS). As somewhat creepy as Google Analytics is, it has made me realize that people out there are reading it -- I may be doing the most clicking, but I am not in Bangalore, India, and someone from there read it for seventeen whole seconds.

But another reason, and a good one: I love it. I love Accomplishing Things, especially Accomplishing Things I should have done over two decades ago. I am so lazy and scattered that having an actual list that I can cross off makes me feel totally organized, even if I haven't put the new tags that I got in the mail three weeks ago on my car. And I love sitting down and writing and actually having some structure -- when left to my own devices, I can barely think of anything to Twitter. (And, well, there's the procrastination, and I JUST got THIS as I was writing this, so that's kinda spooky.) Just writing something is an Accomplishment for me, so it's Double-Whammy Goodness.

But here's the best part -- I have "met" the coolest people, found the most fabulous blogs, learned all sorts of new and wonderful stuff, have the best entertainment to read every day, all thanks to starting this blog. Lots of stuff has happened over the past year, and I have gotten such support and kind comments, and I appreciate that. And I am so grateful and shocked that I have over 100 Followers. Now THAT I never, ever would have expected, and I am tickled.

In fact I am tickled PINK, and to commemorate that and its one year anniversary, I am redecorating the blog. The polka dots were cute for a year, but so blogger-y and I have had serious blog envy each time I look at anyone else's. I wish I knew how to make a fancy banner, but I think this is enough for one day. And come on, pink is so glamorous. Just ask Zsa Zsa Gabor!!!

Listen to Zsa Zsa, daaahlinks! Sparkleneely loves you!

Anyway, thanks so much, everyone, for reading this blog, for motivating and inspiring me, and welcoming me into the Blogosphere.

Now go Accomplish something. I am going to eat some Cheez-Its and lay on the couch.

xoxoxoxoxo

Accomplishment #35: Raise Money For Charity (#74)

2009-07-17T23:34:00.000-07:00

On July 19th, 1986, I went to a party at this girl Valerie's house with my friends Andrea and Monica. It was just a regular old party, and since I was the designated driver, I wasn't expecting much. But by the time we piled out of my car, we knew -- this was a good one. All the usual suspects were there -- the usual skate punks and new wavers and mods and "death rock" kids, all mingling together. (There was enough hairspray and eyeliner going on in that house that I suspect the early evening hours of July 19th, 1986 burned a swath in the ozone layer.) The house was jam-packed, beer and wine cooler bottles everywhere and hazy with smoke, Echo and the Bunnymen blaring over the speakers, and a mad panic dash to the bathroom when the police arrived. Yep, it was a good party, alright.

In fact, to this day, exactly 23 years later, it is still the best party I ever went to. (And I have been to many a party. But this one will always be my favorite.) Not to be corny, but that night my entire life changed. I can still remember what I was wearing, what the porch looked like. I can remember the exact pinpoint moment when my life began: I was hitting my friend Clark with a broom (yeah, I was sober) when someone called my name, and I turned around and found out there was such a thing as Love At First Sight.

He was tall and dashing, and absolutely charming and sophisticated. He was different than the other boys I hung out with (I would NEVER consider hitting him with a broom), and the conversation sparkled. He wrote his phone number on the visor of my car, and told me to call him. I went home that night, floating on air.

For the next year I vacillated between floating and drowning. I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone -- he was IT. He was PERFECT. He was only 2 years older than me, but he seemed so adult. I was away at college and wrote him long letters, agonizing over every word, worried that he'd think I was silly and stupid. I got quick and witty postcards from him, that I carefully pinned to my wall. He came to visit, and asked me to marry him. But something wasn't right -- our relationship was strange and chaste. If I broached the subject, he told me not to over-analyze, and then talked about something else while I, yep, over-analyzed. We spent magical days riding his scooter all over San Francisco, and nights bundled in pea coats, sharing bottles of Boone's Farm. Every second with him was an adventure, but every second without him I grew more and more confused.

"He's gay, you know," someone pointed out. And they were right.

Of course I was heartbroken, and thought that I would never stop crying. (My poor, poor friends. I made lots of shoulders wet with tears and snot.) But eventually I did, and our friendship resumed, stronger than it had before, because there wasn't that unspoken secret anymore. And I found that I loved him even more after that, because he wasn't perfect -- he was my friend. (And I would, in fact, hit him with a broom if I had the chance.)

He changed my life. He was my first love, sure, and with that my life changed. But more importantly, he opened doors for me that I never thought possible. I learned more from him than I did in school. He was a traveler, and told me all about the amazing places that someday I would go, too. He introduced me to new music, new food, new cultures, and showed me hidden nooks and crannies of San Francisco that made me fall in love with my city and left me breathless. He helped me move, and he made me laugh hysterically. He lent me books that he found fascinating and I tried to read them, but they were a little too, uh, smart for me. We worked together at the circus one summer, and got in trouble for printing nasty comments on tickets. I barfed in his catbox. Thanks to him, I met amazing people, most of whom are still my best friends to this day.

About four years after we met, he called me and told me that he and his boyfriend, who also became one of my dearest and most beloved friends, had something to tell me. They came over, and we laughed and ate and it was like any other afternoon hanging out, until they told me that they had just been diagnosed positive with HIV.

I was stunned. I swallowed and wouldn't let myself cry, and made some sort of comment like, "Well, we'll get through this. It'll be okay." And after they left, I broke down in my tiny kitchen and sobbed.

I knew what being HIV positive meant. My cousin Paul had succumbed a few years before, and his square was a piece of the AIDS quilt. My aunt and uncle had been devastated to lose their son. You couldn't live in San Francisco at that time and not hear about AIDS daily. And in 1990, being HIV positive was a death sentence.

But 23 years later, he and my other dear friend are still alive and thriving and doing well. I know there are bad days and good days, and I don't talk to him as often as I should. But I love him just as much now as I did back then, at that First Moment.

Which is why this is the fourth year in a row I will be doing the SF AIDS Walk. I'm pleased to say that every year I have been a Star Walker, meaning I have raised over $1000. Out of all of these 97 Things, this Accomplishment may be the one that I hold highest and dearest. Until someone finds a cure, I will continue to do what I can to help.

And you know, you really do meet the nicest people on The Walk:

Me and The Outrageous Miss DiDi Mau. I LOVE her. She walks in 6 inch heels!

So on Sunday, July 19th 2009 -- 23 years to the day I met him and the irony is not lost on me -- I will be walking six miles through Golden Gate Park in his and my other friend's honor, and in the memory of my cousin Paul and friend Cherel, both of whom I've lost. And for all the others out there who have been affected by this horrible disease.

But I have fantastic company:

Jennye, co-captain and co- supper club hostess

And should you want to sponsor me (and I would really, really appreciate it), go here:

My AIDS Walk Page

Thank you.

xoxoxo

Thirty-five down, 62 to go.

Accomplishment #34: Take a Road Trip (#23) Part 1

2009-06-26T23:49:00.000-07:00

[Okay, this is going to be broken up into two parts, because I went a little overboard, and I'm too lazy to edit what I wrote two weeks ago.]

When I was a senior in high school, all the other kids talked about what they wanted to do for their post graduation, last high school hurrah summer. A lot of kids, including my close circle of friends, were going to Hawaii. The luckier ones were going to Europe. Me, I got a job at Crown Books in a strip mall next to a Loehmann's. Some vacation.

But I didn't want the beach or castles. What I really wanted to do -- my ultimate dream vacation -- was to take a Winnebago (with a chauffeur, because I'm smart like that) on a cross-country road trip. Me, some friends, the not annoying and unobtrusive chauffeur, and the open road. And Wall Drug and Graceland and the World's Largest Ball of Twine and thrift shops galore.

That, obviously, did not happen. For one thing, how would an 18 year-old secure a Winnebago and a not annoying, unobtrusive chauffeur? And the money and time to get one's kicks on Route 66? That $3.35 an hour I was making at Crown Books wouldn't cut it, and I had to register for classes and find cool towels and extra long twin sheets for my dorm room by mid August. And yeah right -- like my parents would say, "Okay, honey! Have fun on your madcap adventure!" as I rode off into the sunset in a cloud of smoke with a bunch of other irresponsible teenagers and unobtrusive chauffeur. Pffft.

However, my parents (shockingly) did give me permission to go on a road trip that very summer, over Fourth of July weekend. My two best friends and I drove down to Southern California, where we stopped at Pea Soup Andersen's and creepy Santa Claus Lane, went to Disneyland, played quarters with two boys from Arizona (I lost), went to Knott's Berry Farm, walked along Hollywood Blvd., and slept in the car in the Denny's parking lot the last night because we didn't have a hotel room. Good times... that we still laugh about 20 plus years later.

Marci, me, Hap-pea and Pea-Wee. Taking the photo: Traecy. Whee!

Since then I've done that trip to Southern California countless times -- sometimes with friends, often alone (and got my first speeding ticket in the King City Speed Trap while listening to, of all things, Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel")*, and once with a rat named Lucifer at my feet.

{*NOTE: I wrote this two weeks ago, before MJ's untimely demise. FREAKY!}

But I still have that dream of the open road (and the Winnebago and friends and unobtrusive chauffeur) and the whole USA. I want to see Mt. Rushmore and the statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox, fairy themed miniature gold courses and the Carlsbad Caverns. I want to see all that amazing Americana that's fading fast, and visit the places I've only read about in books. And even though I make slightly more than $3.35 an hour now, I'm still not exactly financially solvent enough to do it.

So when my boss suggested that we go on a road trip to the South -- Birmingham to Oxford to Nashville -- to visit accounts, I jumped at the chance. Southern literature is my most favorite genre, and to be able to actually see chinaberry trees and kudzu and Piggly Wigglys and where William Faulkner lived... heaven! And have my work pay for the rental car and expenses? Awwww yeah!

So first we flew to Birmingham, AL for a meeting, getting in late afternoon. There wasn't much time to do anything and we had to do work related stuff, but we did go to the 5 Points South area, which was cool, especially Charlemagne Records (where I bought a Frank Sinatra box set because it was cheap) and this:

It looks like Hap-pea or Pea-Wee!

The next morning we had our meeting, and left directly to drive to Mississippi. I think my boss thought I was weird because I had to stop and get Doritos (a road trip MUST), and he also thought I was weird because let's just say we don't have the same taste in music. He knows all new stuff that I don't care about, and I was happy as a clam shooting along the highways of Alabama, listening to Frank Sinatra sing "America the Beautiful" while he politely writhed. It was too good. I wistfully looked at all the thrift shops as we sped past, but I knew that I was pushing my luck and weirdness factor with Old Blue Eyes singing schmaltz and didn't press it. After all, I was with my boss. A little bit of professionalism was necessary.

But then the signs for Tupelo appeared. Tupelo. THE BIRTHPLACE OF ELVIS PRESLEY. AKA MECCA. AKA WHERE I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO GO.

I have a deep love for Elvis. I had a little, um, phase many years ago where I was obsessed. I thought about moving to Memphis to work in the Graceland gift shop, just for the hell of it. I even went to the Butterfield's auction and grabbed the crotch of the tuxedo Elvis wearing when he appeared on Frank Sinatra's Timex special, and asked the curator if they were selling the gun Elvis used to shoot at Bob Goulet on TV. I've even been known to win a trivia contest or two. So yeah. I love me some E.

ONE OF THE GREATEST MOMENTS IN HISTORY. And yes, that's the tux.

And, had I been with my friends, I would have screamed, "OHMIGOD! PULL OVER! TUPELO! ELVIS! GLADYS! OHMIGOD!" and then launched into "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love." But since a little bit of professionalism was, in fact, necessary, I kept the squeals down to a minimum and asked, "Ohhh, can we go? Please?"

"I don't know," my boss said. "We need to get to Oxford soon," and checking his iPhone, he told me to merge onto the upcoming highway to go south.

I thought I was going to cry. Here I was, in Tupelo, and I was missing one of the greatest landmarks of all time. Where Elvis was brought into this world, along with his stillborn twin, to spread joy and sunshine and total freakdom to the masses. I watched the exit go past, and bravely drove on.

But Elvis was looking down at me, in the guise of crappy navigational skills. "Whoops, wrong way," my boss said. "We have to double back."

"Then can we please go to Elvis's birthplace? It won't take long, I promise, I've always wanted to go, it's my total dream... and besides, we work for a TRAVEL company and we're SUPPOSED to do stuff like this!" I guess I was vehement enough and he agreed, and I happily turned on my blinker and exited, telling my boss useless and little known facts about The King, while he ignored me as best he could.

I thought I was going to PLOTZ. I waited politely for my boss to get out of the car, but practically ran to the teeny tiny house where THE KING HIMSELF was born, only to be told by the big haired tour guide lady that it was $12 to go inside. "Come on," my boss said. "I'll buy you a ticket. I've never seen you so excited about anything." (Which makes me wonder just how unenthusiastic I am at work.)

"THIS IS THE MOST EXCITING THING EVER!" I shrieked, and ran to the Visitors Center.

Elvis Mecca. One of 'em, anyway.

"I'M HERE ALL THE WAY FROM CALIFORNIA!" I announced to the old ladies behind the counter.

"Woll, isn't that niiiice!" one of the ladies said. "You should sign the guestbook."

"I'M GOING TO!" I said. "BUT FIRST I NEED TO LOOK IN THE GIFT SHOP!" And I did, where I bought Elvis Presley recipe coasters, buttons, and a CD, because it was imperative that I heard "Bossa Nova Baby." "DO YOU LOVE ELVIS?" I asked the lady who was reading a romance novel behind the register.

She sighed. "Sometimes."

"HA HA THAT'S FUNNY!" I yelled. "I LOVE HIM!"

"I can tell," she said.

Meanwhile, my boss was talking to his boss on his iphone. "You will never guess where we are -- in Tupelo at Elvis Presley's birthplace! Karen made us come here -- I have never seen her so excited. Now anyway..." I could not fathom how anyone could talk about work when we were standing in The KINGdom, but there you have it. When he finally hung up, I pointed at a picture. "THAT'S ON HIS BIRTHDAY RIGHT AFTER HIS MOMMA DIED," I explained. "ELVIS WAS SUPER BUMMED. AND THEY MADE IT INTO A MOUSEPAD, LOOK!" And my boss was very nice and bought me the mousepad featuring Depressed Elvis, because he thought I needed a souvenir. Because, you know, everyone needs a sad Elvis picture.

And then we paid our $12 to go into THE VERY HOUSE WHERE ELVIS WAS BORN. It was just big-haired tour guide lady, me, my boss, and then two latecomers -- two elderly people that I instantly felt sorry for, because I was going to be obnoxious. I couldn't help it. It was Tupelo Tourettes.

A little too excited.

The lady started her spiel, and I couldn't help myself. "IS THIS THE VERY BED WHERE ELVIS WAS BORN?" I asked.

"Well, no... this is all furniture that looks just like what the Presleys would have had. But that is Vernon's hat."

"COOL!" I said.

Vernon's hat!

She went on, talking about Elvis, but something was missing. "AND DON'T FORGET JESSE GARON HIS TWIN!" I instructed Big-Haired Tour Guide Lady. It would be criminal to leave him out. She looked startled.

"Honey, Jesse Garon was stillborn."

"I KNOW THAT," I said. "BUT HE WAS STILL BORN," without realizing what I said.

My boss looked like he wanted to fall through the floor.

almost the very bed where The King and his twin were born.

So I shut up and listened to Big-Haired Tour Guide Lady, who told us some very informative facts:

Vernon and Uncle Vester built the house themselves

They didn't have wallpaper, they used newspaper

They were broke and lost the house and moved down the street, but then moved to Memphis

When Elvis got all rich he bought the house and the land and turned it into a park for poor kids to play in

they took baths once a week in an old washtub and Vernon had to heat water over a fire, and he'd heat the iron for Gladys, too, because they were poor and proud

Cute kitchen, but I would have decorated it a bit differently.

And then she told us other stuff but I was too busy wondering about the unmentioned outhouse, and if the weekly baths meant they were stinky, and why Gladys didn't throw Vernon out because he was kind of a dog, and if, in fact, Elvis and his momma had a kind of weird relationship, because that's what Dee, Vernon's second wife said. (I think I know a bit too much.) And considering the house was as big as a postage stamp and there wasn't all that much to say about it, the tour was over in roughly 3 minutes, but it was still the best twelve bucks ever spent.

thankyouvurrymush

So then we were shuffled out of the house and I knew my boss wanted to leave right away, but there was STILL so much to see. Like a church and a fountain and a statue of Elvis around the time of the prizewinning Old Shep performance that got him on his way:

We make a really good couple

But being that it was a road trip, and a road trip with my boss (so I couldn't whine and stay longer and roll around on the grass or something), I knew it was time to go. Sadly I looked at the little house where the Magic happened (oh ewww), and bid it farewell. And I was so grateful that Gladys and Vernon settled here and TCB-ed and made baby Elvis who grew up and enriched so many lives. And I was grateful that I got to go to Tupelo and Elvis's birthplace after all, thanks to bad directions.

And I was grateful for another cheesy photo op:

Almost the car that the Presleys drove out of Tupelo to Memphis

And then it was time to get back into the rental car and head toward Oxford, our next stop. I wanted to blast "Bossa Nova Baby" as I sped off into the sunset in a cloud of smoke and I would have, if my boss wasn't in the car talking on his iphone. But I sort of did it anyway and yelled, "BYE ELVIS! I LOOOOVE YOOOUUU!!!"

And now you, too, can blast "Bossa Nova Baby," one of the best Elvis songs EVER:

Stay tuned (or not -- believe me, I don't blame you) for Part Two, in which our heroine gets busted at Faulkner's grave at midnight, and nearly gets into a fight with a Crazy Lady in a hotel bar in Nashville. Hot dog!

Accomplishment #33 Take Care of a Pet (#80)

2009-06-21T16:27:00.000-07:00

A year ago today, I had to put my beloved cat, BeBe Louise, to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

BeBe Louise 1993-2008

Now, I know that everyone thinks their cat is the best cat in the world, but BeBe was quite spectacular. She was my baby and my best friend, the best gift I've ever gotten. Eight pounds of toothless and tailless terror, that one, with the loudest meow on the planet. And smart. She knew how to say hello, and blessed me when I sneezed. (Not kidding. I'd sneeze and she'd meow in the same inflection a person would say "bless you." Every time.) She gave eskimo kisses, rubbing her nose against mine. She knew I was home when I was still half a block away, and greeted me at the door every single time. At night she'd curl up with me, the perfect nestling spoon, or settled her 8 pounds on my hip. I spent hours petting her until she drooled a puddle. And I also subjected her to utter humiliation:

Moooom! Stoooop it!!!

You could sing her name in any song, and her nicknames were The Beez, Beezus, Little Miss, Doo, Tailless (and Toothless) Wonder, and Keeper of All Secrets. I told her everything. Countless times I sobbed into her tortoiseshell fur, and danced with her (which she tolerated, with dignified patience, for about 45 seconds) in happy moments, but mostly she would just be purring on my lap or inches away, as I absently pet her while I read or watched TV or was on the computer. We were rarely in separate rooms. We survived our apartment building fire together -- I had the firemen and the neighborhood looking for her, and she emerged from "the sixth dimension" -- the portal of which was in my closet -- unscathed and annoyed. She hated everyone, including me, and we all bent over backwards to try to make her love us, though it was usually met with disdain. She especially hated other cats and children and the vacuum and getting her nails clipped. What she loved was Fancy Feast, feet, a dirty wad of string called "String Baby" which she nurtured, and drinking water from her own little cup.

At the end she was a little senile and completely incontinent (I hung the above photo on the fridge at her eye level, hoping she'd at least try for the litterbox every once in a while) and when her back end gave out and she was barely eating, I had to give up the hope that I had held for so long, that we'd find the right medicine and she'd get better. Up until the last minute I was resistant, but it was the right thing to do. I will never forget that moment when she went -- I was holding her and her eyes dilated and I couldn't be polite for the vet's sake. Just then Jon's cell phone went off and instead of ruining the moment, I remembered that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

The night I picked up BeBe's ashes, I was sitting on the couch, crying, sure that my heart would never heal, when one of my best friends called. I figured she was calling to ask me how I was doing, but instead she was calling to ask a favor. She and her husband and two kids (our god-children) and dog were moving to Arizona, and would we take their cat? I wasn't sure, but Jon and I agreed -- we'd be helping out, and no cat could be like BeBe, so it wouldn't be a replacement.

Enter Norman.

I'll admit, when Norman first came to us (and immediately squeezed himself behind the record shelves), I was worried. It was too soon after The Magnificent Beez, and this giant cat was nothing compared to her. Ohhh, he was nice enough, but his face wasn't smushed like BeBe's was. And his name couldn't be sung into any song. And he was on Prozac (living with two babies and a dog made him a little bonkers) and attached to a catnip stuffed bulldog, not a dirty piece of string. What was I doing? I could never love this animal, and I felt like a traitor to BeBe, whose ashes were on the mantel. "You're kidding me," I could hear her sneer. "This? You've replaced me with THIS?" "Nice Norman kitty," I said, but the words sounded hollow. The "n" sound was nasally and guttural, not the flowing "eeee" I'd been used to for so many years. I went to bed that night, feeling like maybe I had made a mistake, and was doing this poor cat a disservice because I couldn't be a good adopted cat mom after Beezus.

But then, in the middle of the night, I woke up and saw Norman staring at me, and I swear to God he looked worried. Like, "Hi, we don't know each other, but I hope you like me. Please?" And my heart melted, and I scratched his cheek, and he put his chin on my hand and gave me kisses. We've been pals ever since.

It's true, he is the polar opposite of BeBe. For one thing, he's a BOY. And he has a tail (which is a language I'm still trying to learn) and all of his teeth. He weighs three times as much as she did, with a belly that swings side to side when he runs, and isn't picky about food at all. And shhh, don't tell him but he's, um, not as smart as BeBe. He doesn't bless me when I sneeze -- he gets spooked and takes off. He can't sit still when you pet him -- he paces and gets over excited and flops around. He won't sit on laps (but I'm teaching him, along with being picked up), and his meow is little and wimpy. He has eaten all the plants.

But he is so sweet, and a total lovebug. He completely lacks that disdainful cat gene -- he's more like a goofy dog, earnest and eager to please. He loves people, and is dying to go outside and play with the other cats, but we kind of think he's so dumb he'll try to befriend a raccoon and that wouldn't be good. At parties he comes out to check out the action, whereas BeBe hid, furious, in the closet until everyone was gone. And he is also musically inclined:

A one-anna-two-anna...

So we've had Norman for about a year now, and I still think about and miss BeBe every day. I miss her little clicky feet on the floor, and her sweet motorboat purr. But Norman has grown on me, more and more all the time. It's not the same kind of bond I had with my little BeBe girl, but we're good friends, he and I. I try not to talk about BeBe in front of him, because I don't want him to get jealous and think he's a rebound. It's a different kind of relationship. But I do love him very much, and I know he loves me back -- he spoons, and looks at me with that open, sweet face, and he follows me around like a puppy. Right now, he's beside me, snoring as I type. And I know that as soon as I go to bed, he'll put his chin on my hand and give me lots of licky kisses (he doesn't get the eskimo kiss thing) and we will fall asleep, and he'll wake me up way too early tomorrow morning for a cheek scratch. I'm awfully lucky that I had BeBe, and now I have Normie-Boo.

Find the Norman

Because they taught me that sure, we take care of pets, but really -- they take better care of us.

Thirty-three down, 64 to go.

For You.

2009-06-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the fabulous and funny Tessa of Tessa Scoffs bestowed this award on me!

I am honored to have received it and am just so impressed that someone was able to recreate my likeness onto such a small thumbnail. (Ohhh, okay, fine. My fantasy likeness, sans the orthopedic Danskos, prescription sunglasses and with a wasp waist and a poodle.)

In all seriousness, thank you Tessa, and right back atcha.

And now comes the time where I bestow this award on what I consider to be the 5 best blogs, or tell you my 5 least favorite things, or 5 things you don't know about me and my 5 digit pin code for the ATM machine. Welllll... I'm going to choose five things and shake it up a bit, so here goes:

~ If you are on my blog roll thingamajig: this award is for you.

~ If you follow me (and thank you!): congratulations, you just got an award.

~ If I follow you: I like you, I really like you.

~ If you are reading this and you have a blog: you're an award winner.

~ If you're not reading this, but you have a blog: this one's for you.

Because here's the thing: putting yourself out there is damn hard, and I admire each and every one of you. I don't care if you're anonymous, or a persona, or yourself writing about what you had for breakfast. I don't care if you're writing to keep in touch with family or friends, to get your feelings out or getting something off your chest, or talking about what you wore or found on etsy. I don't care if you have 5 million followers or a book deal or if you have never written anything but your name before, or if you're a spelling bee champion or can't even spell cat. What I care about is that you are writing, and you are writing publicly. To me, that is one of the bravest things you can do, because exposing yourself and your thoughts and feelings and words can be downright scary. I find that to be so admirable, and it's something I'm pretty intimidated by. (And a lot of it has to do with atrocious grammar.)

I'll admit, I let this blog lag because of something that happened to me a few months back. I was out at a nightclub, blah blah blah, and I made an offhand comment in a conversation. A girl with whom I'm not friends said to me sarcastically, "Is this going to be one of your long and boring stories that no one wants to listen to?"

I felt like I had been punched in the throat. Yes, true, this girl and I are not friends and do not like each other, so her credibility and anything she says should not be taken seriously. And yes, true, word economy is not my strong suit and I tend to blab. And sure, I may be a little boring... But still, it hurt. She found that button to push, the one thing that would upset me, and she knew it. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. I went from embarrassed to angry to defensive to sad, in no particular order on no particular day. I've had criticism before -- I survived high school, went to grad school and have endured heinous writing groups, for godssakes -- but this was deliberate and mean. It made me reassess a lot of things and wreaked havoc on my insecurity and wreaked havoc on writing the blog. To make a long and boring story short: it sucked.

But what I realized, that even despite this woman's tactless comment that I let get to me when I shouldn't have, is that I love writing, and I love writing this blog, and missed it. I never let it go away completely -- I was writing it in my head, even if I wasn't logging on. And then I sat down and started to type, and grew a skin that looks a bit like a lizardy, thanks to my new determination and older age.

In order to put yourself out there you need a thick skin, and I think all of our skins have grown a little tougher as soon as we signed up to do this. But there is something about the vulnerability and thrill as you hit "POST," and I picture all of you doing it, and it makes me love you all. I think of you coming up with ideas, feeling the sense of Accomplishment when you are finished and pleased with your efforts, feeling good when your ideas come across. I'm happy at the thought of all of you getting supportive and kind comments, and hate the thought of any of you hurt by assholes being assholes for the sake of being assholes. I'm thrilled that you're writing.

In short (See? I can change!): you all deserve this award. Congratulations.

So, okay, maybe I messed up this award giving process a little. (I'm not good at chain mails, either.) But I want you all to accept this award, and pass it to someone else, and let them know that they are fabulous for putting, uh, words on a screen. (Pen to paper sounds so much nicer, though.) And that you and they are Accomplishing Great Things, which is what this blog is all about.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get off my soapbox and go and edit a really long and boring (no kidding) blog entry.

Thanks, again, Tessa, and thank you all!

Accomplishment #32: Dine High End on a Low Budget (#22)

2009-06-06T15:01:00.000-07:00

Last week I was in New York City. Ahhhh... I love New York. There is nowhere in the world like it. Walking down the street I feel like That Girl, ready to fly a kite or twirl a floral umbrella or wink at a mannequin. Or something.

Frank Sinatra was right -- when you're there (or not), you want to be a part of it, old New York. You can't help but think of all the books and movies and music and glamor and squalor and history. On Fifth Avenue, you think of Holly Golightly at dawn in last night's finery. In the Village you think of beatniks and jazz, baby. At the Met I think of From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, the lower East Side I think of The Alienist, and of course Midtown is Dorothy Parker and her Round Table compatriots or Deborah Kerr racing to meet Cary Grant atop the Empire State Building. Then there's Woody Allen and Seinfeld, When Harry Met Sally and Harriet the Spy, Paul Auster and Holden Caulfield, CBGB's and "21." (And Paul's Boutique by The Beastie Boys when in Brooklyn -- awwww, yeah!) The list goes on and on and on. It's the pulse of the world, the capital of dazzle and substance, the epicenter of excitement...

And it's super, super expensive. Like, crazy expensive.

I'm lucky -- I was there for work, so it all wasn't out of my own pocket. But I'm a good girl (or try to be), and I try not to take advantage of my company, eating as cheaply as possible. Which isn't all that easy to do -- it adds up, and fast. Even fast food restaurants are way more expensive in Manhattan, though "street meat" is cheap but let's face it, risky.

So last week when I had gotten in I had been starving and had grabbed a bite, using up my quota for the day. After resting a bit and attempting to brush my hair, I walked up to Times Square from my hotel (on 7th across from Madison Square Garden) to meet my old friend Suze. The city had blocked off Times Square to traffic, rerouting cars, and had set up lawn chairs in the street. It was thronging with tourists and sailors for Fleet Week, and the lights are so bright that even though it was 9 o'clock, it was like daylight. We sat on the red neon steps under the Coca Cola sign and took it all in.

our view from where we were sitting

While it was exciting, there is a fact about having that many people around: elbows and feet in your face. So we took some touristy pictures and decided to go find something to eat.

We poked around the Great White Way, sneaking into theaters to ooh and ahh over their intricate ceilings and loges, and marveling at all the star-studded Broadway productions that are going on right now. West Side Story, 9 to 5, and Blithe Spirit with Rupert Everett, Angela Lansbury and Christine Ebersole (she was THE BEST in Grey Gardens, the only show I've ever seen on Broadway proper). It's astonishing really, how many shows there are. (And remember -- expensive!)

We didn't know where to eat, but I was happy wandering aimlessly, turning onto W. 44th St. And there was the legendary Sardi's.

Sardi's is one of those New York institutions, the kind of place you dream about getting all snazzy and ordering filet mignon and Baked Alaska. Founded in 1927, it has always been thee restaurant for the theee-aaaa-tah crowd, attracting actors and audiences alike. The Tony Awards were founded there, and it still is thee spot for opening night parties and photo ops. Its trademark is the caricatures of all the stars, everyone from Helen Hayes to even Clay Aiken ("the Gayken"), framed and hung in the dining rooms and bar.

And it's even been a star in movies itself -- here it is in Please Don't Eat The Daisies with Doris Day and David Niven, 1960:

Fast forward to the 5:37 mark -- Sardi's!

"Oooh, Sardi's!" I breathed, like the tourist geek I am. "Can we go in and just have a drink? I've always wanted to..."

"Sure," Suzie shrugged. She lived in New York for years and is an actress -- she is far worldlier than I. She swung the door open and we went in, leaving behind the New York street sounds and stepping into hushed voices and clinking silver and glass, and quiet, jazzy music.

I felt a little thrill of excitement. I was going into the venerable Sardi's! I have always just dreamed of dining at Sardi's with the hoi polloi, while wearing a taffeta Dior dress with gloves and ankle strap heels, my laugh tinkling (not cackling), sharing witticisms and martinis with Cole Porter. (Okay, fine, my Sardi's fantasy is circa 1952, but STILL. All my fantasies are, if you haven't figured that out by now.) But instead of a taffeta Dior and ankle straps and opera length gloves... I was... I was... oh God...

...I was wearing a SWEATSHIRT.

A black hooded sweatshirt that I had put on that morning, covered in cat hair and Munchies crumbs and airplane germs. And jeans and Hush Puppies and messy hair. Now, I know that casual wear is de riguer now -- one doesn't even have to wear a tie to even "21" anymore (which I lament -- I wish there were more places that upheld outdated civility) -- but COME ON. A sweatshirt? Cole Porter was spinning in his grave, and Cecil Beaton and Lily Dache were giving me the ghostly stinkeye.

But the bartender was very nice, and laughed when I stammered that I wouldn't normally wear a sweatshirt to such an establishment. And the maitre d' let us sit in the dining room to sip our drinks, since the shows hadn't let out yet and it was virtually empty. We gawked at the caricatures ("Look, there's Lucy!" "Awww, there's Dom Deluise!"), craning our necks and twisting in our seats. All decorum and nonchalance was abandoned, and I felt like the two rube suburban girls in Catcher in the Rye, silly and guileless in the Big City. Such rubes, in fact, that the busboy took our picture.

Tourist geeks

"Let's look at a menu for fun," I said, and the waitress brought us the post-theater supper selection, and we perused the twenty dollar hamburgers and forty dollar steaks. But when I saw they had French Onion Soup for under ten dollars, I realized that this would be my Accomplishment, dining high end on a low budget. And I would actually eat at SARDI'S.

So I got the soup:

Delicious!

Suzie got french fries:

Starchy goodness

And ate lots of good French bread.

Free!

And this was our bill:

Probably the lowest bill they had all night. And NOTE: My work did NOT pay for this!

People started trickling in as the shows were letting out, and it started filling up. And Rupert Everett came in, dressed even worse than I was, and sat beneath his own picture. Talk about ego! And no, we didn't take his picture. We're tourists, but not that bad. Now, had he been, say... PATTY DUKE... that's another story. ahem.

And since we were paying customers, we felt entitled to poke around the closed upstairs dining room and bathrooms, where we took lots of photos:

Aren't these beautiful?

Just THINK of who used these booths, before the advent of cell phones...

Anita Loos, Shelley Winters

Sammy and Dick!

Myrna Loy, Farrah and Liz

And then I discovered that I'd actually been there before, in the guise of The Gooch:

Peggy Cass, aka Agnes Gooch

Uncanny, isn't it?

Except she is wearing pearls, NOT a sweatshirt.

So as Auntie Mame told Agnes Gooch, "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death," we ate -- CHEAP -- at that banquet. I highly recommend it.

French fries: $4
French Onion Soup: $9.75
French Bread: free
Dining at Sardi's for less than $20 and being able to say you ate there: priceless

Such a glamorous Accomplishment!

Thirty-two down, 65 to go.

Accomplishment #31: Learn Basic Clothes Maintenance (#85)

2009-05-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

I'll admit -- this is something that I did not learn while I was in high school. My mom, bless her heart, did my laundry. But then college came, and armed with a roll of quarters, some Tide, and about a month's worth of dirty clothes in the new hamper purchased for my new dorm room, I went to the laundromat and... did my laundry. It came out fine. Hey, I was young and full of promise -- there was nothing I couldn't do, except math and time travel and get to class on time. (Some things never change.)

I actually like doing laundry. There is something so gratifying about sorting and measuring and pouring, and then the smell and warmth of clothes right out of the dryer. Granted, I do have a washer and dryer so that makes things easy, but I never even really minded going to the laundromat -- once I actually GOT there. (It's the motivation that's the hard part.) Where else can you sit and read and the people watching can't be beat? Granted, seeing your neighbor's chonies spinning in a dryer can be weird, but just don't look too hard.

So yes, I can do laundry. I can even sew buttons and seam splits (albeit not all that perfectly). I can maintain my clothes maintenance, but it's the actually clothes quantity maintenance that is a challenge.

You see, I have A LOT of clothes. A LOT. I worked in a vintage store for 8 years and have an addiction to thrift shopping and bargains. And I'm not exactly trendy -- I tend to wear what was "in" fifty years ago than the latest fashion, so basically I'm so out of style that I don't have to worry about keeping up with it. I'll wear something I bought 15 years ago with something I got last month. I had 4 HUGE closets in my old apartment, so it never felt like an issue. But then I moved into a house with tiny closets with a boyfriend who needs to shield his body from the elements (damn him), and two small children who need a place to put their tiny sweaters and toys. Needless to say, the closet real estate is a bit scarce and hard to come by. Where my closets were happily full before, now they are crammed and look like they're vomiting skirts and jackets all over the place.

Yes, I know I have too many clothes. WAY too many. While I have a small case of the guilts when I'm rifling through my closet, knowing that there are poor people out there who need clothes (but like they'd want a sweater with poodles on it or gold lame capri pants), it's also intermingled with a sense of joy (some of my stuff is, in my opinion, amazing) and sentiment (I have the memory of an elephant and can remember where I got almost everything, and what I was doing when I was wearing my plaid skirt or turquoise sweater). And I've gotten rid of so much stuff, and regretted it. That's the thing about vintage -- I will never find another circle skirt with windmills and kissing Dutch couples, nor will I ever find another 1950's rayon Japanese pagoda print dress. Sigh.

But in the past few years, despite the gluttonous abundance of goodness in my closet, I've been a total schlub. For one thing, I don't go out as much anymore, so all my dressy dresses are gathering shoulder dust. Granted, it's not like I was ever one of those girls who was all decked out with the right hairdo and heels and seamed stockings, but sometimes I was fancy. (At least when I started the night out.) Another thing -- since I no longer work in a vintage store, I wind up just wearing the same old jeans to work, day after day. It's easy to get complacent, especially when you're running late to work and would rather not think too hard and be comfortable. And another thing -- I had gained weight, so many of my favorites didn't zip or button and made me want to cry, even though I didn't want to get rid of them.

Happily, I did lose some weight this past year. Not a lot, but enough to make me want to ditch my schlubby jeans and go out and buy new clothes. (After all, isn't that your just reward, after depriving yourself of butter and bacon and 2 am greasy goodness?) But even better, some of the clothes I actually already own zip again. Of course, being a clothes whore I would love to go shopping and buy new things, but don't have the money or the room. And as I was digging in my closet looking for something, I came up with an idea.

I challenged myself: I would wear something different every day for thirty days, no repeats, and shop in my closet instead of a store. That way I would save money by not buying clothes in my "new" size, and I wouldn't have to cram more crap in my vomiting closet. And I could revisit my old clothes that I love and justify their existence as mine -- if I'm wearing them, I don't have to feel guilty about having them, right? And I would record it all in photos and post on Flickr, to keep myself honest.

So thus it began:

Day 2

I missed the first day, so started on the second. My friend took this picture after work -- clearly I felt dumb. I think that was the hardest part, the posing for the pictures. (This was the only one someone took -- the rest were with the self timer. Believe me, I took a lot and kept the "best." I am a terrible subject and an even worse photographer.)

But it got kind of fun:

Day 16

Day 24

And ridiculous:

Sick and sick of it

The rest of the photos are here.

And I did it. It was fun going through my closet and excavating old treasures, and wearing something different. (Everyone at work would ask, "What day is it?") It motivated me to get up in the morning and think about what to wear, and not go out looking like a troll that just rolled out of a moat. When I would explain to people about what I was doing, it inspired them to do the same thing, and I love that. And even though it was a silly experiment -- it's not like I'm Accomplishing world peace or feeding the hungry, I'm just wearing old clothes I haven't worn in years -- it did a few things. One -- I saved money by not buying anything new, even for my "new" waist size. That's awesome.

Also, and most importantly, I felt better about myself. Wearing old schlubby jeans makes me feel tired and faded and, well, like a schlub. I don't feel like me. Clothes have always been such a huge part of my identity, and to have just reverted to wearing the same boring thing everyday... yawn. While it has its merits (definitely -- carelessly comfortable topping that list!), it's good to break out of that every once in a while.

And another thing I did find some things don't fit, don't look good, and I'm not going to wear them again. So I can get rid of stuff, make more room, and buy more clothes that I don't need. Hooray! Sigh.

But I did reward myself with a treat after I was done with the thirty days. The economy needs stimulating, right? But instead of buying new clothes, I bought a new purse that matches EVERYTHING. And it's made from recycled barkcloth, so it's good for the environment!

Check out this seller on etsy -- her purses are the best! atomiclivin on etsy

What was scary was that I barely scratched the surface (or rather, the depths) of my overstuffed closets, so I'm still motivated to keep it going. My work schedule hasn't made it all that possible this month, but I'll be starting up again in June, adding pictures once again, and prompting my coworkers to ask, "Okay, now what day are you on?" I'll dig out my fabulous Pucci pants (75% markdown at a discount outlet!) and wear them to... um... somewhere. And even though I'm wearing ugly sweatpants as I write this, maybe, just maybe, after I take a shower I might put something nice on and take a picture. Maybe. It might just be a schlubby day after all, but it's nice to have a choice.

Thirty-one down, 66 to go.

No really, I haven't given up!

2009-05-21T16:40:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't given up on the blog, I swear! I'm just lame. And busy. Busy Accomplishing things... and playing Lexulous on facebook. (It's good for the brain you know.) And reading good books:

This is the next Book Club selection. See? I'm keeping up! buy it!

And here's a preview of an Accomplishment:

You can't tell from this photo because I'm mid-blink and looking a little inebriated (I WASN'T), but this was an Important Occasion.

More later!!!

Happy Easter!

2009-04-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

Hope everyone is stuffing themselves to the gills with Easter candy, or wearing bonnets festooned with ribbons, or at least settling down for a nice Sunday.

And here is a little treat for you from me:

I found this in a junk store a few years ago, and thought it was hilarious. I took it out of its frame and scanned it and posted it on Flickr. Since then, it has gotten 51,343 views.

Just think -- over FIFTY ONE THOUSAND clicks on this crazy picture. That's more than the population of... somewhere. So, that's sort of an accomplishment -- I have successfully spread bunny terror across the internet. Ha cha cha!

Happy day, everyone!

I'm a winner!

2009-03-29T21:17:00.000-07:00

Actually, I'm a total LOSER because I should have posted this weeks ago. Actually MONTHS -- it's crazy the way I've lost track of time. I can't believe it's almost April! But never fear -- I HAVE been Accomplishing Great Things, as well as spending a lot of time on my butt on the couch. I believe in a balanced lifestyle.

Anyway, one of my favorite blogs, The Girl Can't Help It (Go HERE!) had a giveaway, and I won! When it was announced, I shrieked with glee and read this part out loud to my boyfriend: "Your house just got a little bit tackier, and I couldn't be prouder that I had a part in it."

"Hmmm," he said. "Did you tell her our house is already tacky, and that you do a fine job of that all by yourself?" Touche, darling.

But WHATEVER! It's an Accomplishment! I won something! I won a KITTY PLANTER!

Behold:

Isn't it cute? Isn't it sweet?

Wait. Look closer.

Look at its eyes. Go ahead. Just TRY to stare deeply into them.

You CAN'T. They are limpid pools of NOTHING. They aren't even evil -- they are simply not there, like something straight outta Flannery O'Connor or something. Or a horror movie. Or, well, the blogosphere.

In fact, this kitty reminds me of another kitty:

Louis Wain's schizophrenic cat

And this makes me love it EVEN MORE.

Many thanks to the fabulous Kim, and I promise -- more Accomplishments coming your way soon. But seriously... i don't know if I could ever top Dead-Eyed Cat.

Accomplishment #30 -- Start a Book Club (#20)

2009-03-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Show of hands: Who remembers The Scholastic Book Club?

Okay, so I can't actually see you, but I can feel your excitement and nostalgia all the way from here.

For the uninitiated, The Scholastic Book Club was a program in schools where kids could order books from a little order form, the teacher would send it in, and a few weeks later, the books were delivered to the classroom. (They were WAY ahead of Amazon.) You know, to promote reading, because Reading Is Fundamental.

I LOVED it. For some reason, at my school it was called The Lucky Book Club. We'd get the forms with their little pictures of the book covers and check boxes, and I'd rush home and gather together all my money, then fill it out and wait impatiently for Delivery Day. One time I was in the school office and saw the actual boxes being delivered and was thrilled -- like I had seen something Big and Secret and Behind The Scenes, like the inner workings of an important operation. Our teachers would get the boxes, and then during silent reading time, they would get everything together and make stacks at the front of the room, and then we could go up one by one and collect our book goodness.

My stacks were always the biggest, because I was a total book nerd. I went everywhere with a book, including the dinner table and got reprimanded all the time for that. But my parents encouraged my reading and spending my allowance on books. If I got an A on my report card, my dad took me to the local bookstore as a reward and bought me a HARDCOVER book and inscribed it. My mom volunteered at a thrift shop, and after every shift she brought home a bag of books for me, and she took me to the library once a week. I didn't just read books -- I devoured them, and quickly. So when it was Lucky Book Club time, they would supplement my allowance so that I could order more than one or two -- sometimes I'd get 3 or even 4 AND a Dynamite Magazine or a poster with a kitten on it! (Hang in there, baby!) I'd always feel a little embarrassed, seeing my stack tower over everyone else's, but that would fade quickly into glee and the high of New Book Smell.

I bought all sorts of books -- everything from Beverly Cleary to books about gerbils and gila monsters. (I know, right? WHY???) In third grade I got a book about exotic cats and decided that I needed an ocelot. My absolute favorite two books were biographies about Helen Keller and Louis Braille because they had the braille alphabet on the back. (I spent more hours pretending I was blind than I did reading the books.)

Some of my actual Lucky Book Club books. Alas, the gerbil and gila monster ones are gone.

So Scholastic was the first book club to which I ever belonged, even though I didn't exactly sit around and have meaningful discussions about any of the books I got. (Yeah, right: "Oh yes. The schadenfreude I felt after Ramona ruins two of Beezus' birthday cakes was exhilarating, and the symbolism of Ramona ruining the cakes is that she does not want Beezus to age so that she can overtake her older sister's hierarchy within the familial structure." Pffft.) I've been in exactly two others -- one where we read Carter Beats The Devil (it's good!) and we met once and never again (I even read Seabiscuit, which was the next book, but we never got it together) and then we started one at work. I got to choose the first book, and I chose Lobster Boy, the story of Grady Stiles who had lobster hands and feet and was murdered by another carnival freak, and I wanted to have the meeting at a seafood restaurant. Needless to say it did not go over like gangbusters, but to this day I still think it was an awesome choice.

A few months ago, I had heard that one of our beloved San Francisco bookstores, Stacey's was closing, and I was so sad to hear the news. You all know how I feel about that (a gentle reminder here). I belong to an email list my friend Lynn Peril started (check out her excellent books -- Pink Think and College Girls see here!) called The Ladies Lit List, where we talk about life, books, and whatnot, and I emailed them right away to tell them the news.

Of course, everyone responded with horror, but I think one of our common themes was, "I haven't been there in a while." That was certainly true of me -- I hadn't been in there in a few years. While I do buy books elsewhere, I, along with everyone else with that reaction, was part of the problem. These bookstores can't stay afloat if we aren't buying books from them -- Amazon and the economy are killing off these smaller stores, and it's so sad to see happen.

Since it was an Accomplishment for the blog, I suggested we start our own book club, to help out these indies and the book business. Now, I realize 5 or so books won't save much of anything, but it's a start, and at least we could feel good about helping the cause. And so, The 97 Things Book Club was born. (That's not really the name. It doesn't really have one.)

This was the book I suggested:

It was a book that I had wanted to read for a long, long time, and at the time I chose it, the Inauguration was coming up, and I'd been reading articles on the Obama/FDR comparisons. And I had met Ms. Goodwin a few times at the bookstore where I used to work, and she was always gracious and kind, so that was a plus in its favor, too. So we had the book, set the date, and most importantly, decided what we were going to eat.

Even though we had over a month to read the book, when our First Official Book Club Meeting rolled around, only one of us had finished it. (Let's face it, we all know how it ends.) Shamefully, the Hostess was not that person, as I discovered that it was so dense I could only read a few pages at a time, and was sidetracked by the autobiography of Maureen McCormick who was Marcia Brady and had a WAY serious cocaine habit. (You'll all be happy to know that Marcia -- er, Maureen -- found God, though she should have found a more exciting ghostwriter.) I had only just finished reading about Pearl Harbor and was to February 1942. With the exception of Lea, the other ladies hadn't finished it either. (Lea wins the gold medal for patience and perseverance.)

But all was not lost. There was still a rousing discussion (how could there not be?) so the afternoon was filled with terrific conversation -- everything from the economy then and now, Eleanor and feminism, the press, Obama and the stimulus, to, um, wondering if FDR could still, uh, "perform." (Yes, I know, totally tasteless and sacrilegious. But come on. And we were told yes. Giggle.)

And, of course, FOOD:

crustless sandwiches for a proper ladies' 40's luncheon, and sushi in remembrance of japanese internment camps

Lynn's amazing brownies, and Jessica's cookies from Bake Sale Betty. Not pictured: Mary Ann's cake and Mary's champagne

So while the book choice was far too lofty and dense and too hard to focus upon for a Book Club (but not as bad as Lobster Boy, which is STILL think is an awesome choice), it was still a success. I've learned so much American History -- things about which I was not aware -- that is helping me to understand and come to grips a little with what's happening today. It was a lovely afternoon, filled with good people, smart conversation, delicious food, and the economy (especially the book and delicious snack treats industries) and minds were stimulated. (And, um, we learned that FDR could be, too. D'OH!) Which is what it's about.

The Smart and Fabulous Lit Ladies!

So I made a much wiser choice for the next one:

NPR review here

It is REALLY GOOD. In my opinion, you can't go wrong with anything put out by Algonquin Books, and this one's no exception. (When I was buying it my friend said, "Oh, that is SUCH a Karen book." I think that's a good thing, except questionable when it comes to Lobster Boy.) I bought my copy in hardcover, but it releases in paperback March 17th. I'm going to call our local bookstore and see if they can get us some extra copies -- Algonquin's Marketing Dept. is even having a promotion for it for book clubs. And it's a perfect segue -- Mudbound begins where No Ordinary Time left off.

The next meeting is Saturday, April 4th at 2 pm!

So I hereby invite all of you to join The 97 Things Virtual Book Club, and read Mudbound by Hilary Jordan. I can figure out a way to "host" a meeting on the blog -- have a dedicated post with comments, maybe? I would love that! And my plan is to do a new book, every six weeks. Or host one yourself. It's fun, especially if guests bring delicious food.

And remember -- support your local bookseller and talented authors. It's good for the economy, and even better for your mind, heart, and soul.

Thirty down, 67 to go.

Accomplishment #29: Learn About Safe Sex (#40)

2009-02-27T11:52:00.000-08:00

*giggle* Ohmigaaawd! *giggle*

Okay, let's face it. I am way past the age of learning about safe sex. That was something that actually did happen by the time I graduated from high school, which really was an Accomplishment. It would be, like, awesome for you guys and the blog if I had some sort of Afterschool Special Worthy Life Lesson to share, like, if I was like Dana Plato and got knocked up with Rob Lowe's baby at summer camp, but nope. Didn't happen.

Best Afterschool Special EVER.

I also came of age when AIDS was coming into collective consciousness. I remember reading about this new, scary disease in Time Magazine in our high school library. As I read the list of symptoms, I was sure I had it, despite the fact that I was a virgin and had never had a blood transfusion, shot up drugs, or had gone to a bathhouse where, apparently, that's where the disease was rampant. (I was sort of a drama-prone hypochondriac as a teen. I was also sure I had malaria at one point, and any disease that was written about in People Magazine where only less than 1% of the population was affected.) While vaguely horrifying Sex Ed classes had always preached about condoms, they had something else to add to their litany of warnings: unwanted pregnancy, STDs, and death. We were all made very aware of the consequences, even if not every teenager was paying attention.

I didn't have to worry too much -- it's not like I was exactly a teen vixen, and I had a tendency to have crushes on gay boys who wore more eyeliner than I did with ratted-out bangs. (It was the 80's. Sigh.) And even more scary than getting pregnant or driving drunk or failing a class was getting in trouble with my dad (though, huh, that happened a lot, but for much minor offenses), so I didn't step over the line. Too much, anyway.

Having to talk candidly with my parents about anything in those days was, like, thee most mortifying thing ever. Even if one of them asked me, "Oh, who is this band?" trying to make conversation with me, I'd cringe. I figured that they'd only had sex three times to have me and my two sisters, and didn't want to think about it any more than that. (And yeah, I still don't.) Of course, later on I realized just how amazing and cool my parents were, but as a teenager I just thought they were the biggest dorks in the universe who just didn't get it. GAAAAWD.

So we didn't really have any "Our Bodies Ourselves" moments in our house. No sitting around the kitchen table with my mom while drinking tea, chatting about sex and douches or anything else like that. Everything I knew about sex came from Judy Blume (remember, page 81 in Forever) or Flowers in the Attic (real healthy), those mortifying Sex Ed classes where nearly everyone looked down at their binders or at the diagrams on the board but not one another, and listening to my friends who were, like "doing it" talk about it. ("You WHAT??? Nuh uh!!! Gross!")

Ohhh, Ralph.

But my poor mom, bless her heart, she tried. Right before I was going away to college, I was sprawled on the couch watching Dialing for Dollars (that's pretty much all I ever watched back then) when she came in and sat down. "Honey, I want to to talk to you about something..." she said.

I knew. I thought I had avoided the Bird and the Bees Talk, but I knew. This was IT.

""Yeah?" I said. Oh God, oh no, don't do it, Mom...

"There will be some, um, things that will happen now that you're leaving home... Things involving boys --"

"IT'S OKAY MOM," I said, a little too loud. "YOU TOTALLY DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME, I KNOW, I GET IT..."

"But Karen," she said. "I just want you to be sure you know how to handle things and be prepared --"

"I AM, IT'S OKAY, I TOTALLY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS..."

And I don't think she did, either, because we both kind of said, "well then, okay," and she went off and I went back to Dialing for Dollars.

So since I'm not exactly well-versed in how to deliver a truly good Birds and Bees and Safe Sex lecture, I will leave that PSA for Rascal Rapper, the Blueberry Condom:

I may be making light of it because I'm not a statistic, but I know plenty of people who are. Unfortunately, some of those gay boys I loved way back when have or have died of AIDS. My best friend in ninth grade got pregnant and dropped out our junior year. I've spent enough time in Planned Parenthood waiting rooms, conscious of the consequences of unsafe sex around me. So no, it's not funny.

But then again, I know I could never demonstrate putting a condom on a banana because I would totally die of laughter. But that's because I'm totally immature.

*giggle* Ohmigaaawd! *giggle*

Twenty-nine down, 68 to go.

Accomplishment #28: Cook a Three-Course Dinner (#30)

2009-02-21T10:37:00.000-08:00

I'm not really a cook. I mean yeah, I can boil spaghetti noodles and dump a jar of sauce in a pot and 40% of the time it tastes decent, and I make a mean tuna noodle casserole with potato chips crushed on top. I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan and never let you forget that it's your turn to do the dishes. Sundays we have tacos, and I can warm up the tortillas in the microwave. I've even cooked two turkeys, though I managed to set a kitchen towel on fire on one of those occasions and lots of screaming and crying (and drinking) ensued.

So yeah. Julia Child I'm not.

But I sort of long to be, just like how I wish I could knit and cobble my own shoes. My friends will talk about how they made these dinners from Epicurious or whatever, with exotic ingredients and paired with the perfect wine, and I'll be befuddled as I try to remember what I ate the night before. (Something my boyfriend or a restaurant cooked, most likely.) Or I'll get all proud if I made chicken and the inside was cooked all the way through.

My friend Mimi claims she doesn't understand how anyone can be scared of cooking, but I'm here to tell you: I am. Not scared necessarily, but let's just say I'm always pleased when after I do cook something, no one gets sick and dies. That, to me, is a culinary triumph. Also I will buy cookbooks and then see some weird ingredient that is supposed to make something uber-fancy and I think, "Seriously? Pineapple and mango chutney over chicken? Why???" and then I figure I have the palate of an eight-year-old. (Which is probably true.) Plus -- I have been told by all my boyfriends that I am a fairly lousy cook. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but those words got me a pass out of the kitchen. I still make dinner, sure, and sometimes have an accompanying salad, but never anything terribly fancy or memorable.

So for this Accomplishment, I decided to challenge myself. Sure, I could make a three course dinner: salad from a bag, tuna noodle casserole with potato chips crushed on top and a freezer-burned popsicle. But no! It would be a nice meal, a belated Valentine's Day Feast. And so I wouldn't cheat, I would take pictures to chronicle the whole ordeal. And I was going to LOOK IN A COOKBOOK and pick something that I had never made before. Like the scariest thing of all:

SEAFOOD. And not Chicken of the Sea, either.

Seafood I am definitely scared of. I don't know how to tell if it flakes easily, and I always just think of The Simpsons when Homer ate the poisonous blowfish while Lisa and Bart karaoke "Shaft." It would be just my luck that I would make fish and it would turn out to be a baaaaad mother. (Just talkin' 'bout Shaft!) But this time, I was going to conquer my fears, and Jon agreed to be The Royal Food Taster. So I poured over my dusty cookbooks and picked Spring Greens with Radishes, Blue Cheese and Toasted Walnuts with made from scratch dressing (no help from Paul Newman for this girl!) for the first course, and Asian Style Sea Bass for the second.

What they were supposed to look like.

Oh geez.

So armed with a list of stuff I didn't have on hand (sea bass, sesame oil, fresh ginger, walnuts, a shallot and a frozen pizza if it all went to hell), I went to the grocery store and marched right up to the seafood counter. "One pound of sea bass, please," I told Seafood Counter Man, hoping I sounded like someone who cooks sea bass on a regular basis.

He laughed like I was an idiot. "Um, no way," he said. "We don't carry it. It's thirty bucks a pound!"

Leave it to me to ask for the most trop cher seafood ever. (I may have the palate of an eight-year-old, but a spoiled one.) "Okay," I said, thinking fast and hoping I didn't come off like a total moron. "Give me the scallops." (Which, by the way, weren't cheap either.)

Once home, I did the first thing I believe every chef should do: don an apron. (And even better if it has cat heads all over it.)

OMG, does this apron make my butt look big?

And then I set to work on the third course, BROWNIES. Okay, they were from a box, but people, the box was 99 cents and there's a recession on. And I added THREE eggs to make them cake-like, which is trying something new. So there.

Mmmm... brownie goodness. And the cook always gets to lick the spoon.

And then, because it was belated Valentine's Day and we weren't going to be eating dinner in front of the TV watching DVDs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I set the table all purty.

But no, I didn't iron the tablecloth. There's only so much I can handle.

And then I prepped the asparagus for roasting in the oven when the brownies were finished baking, snapping off the ends, drizzling it with olive oil and Maine sea salt and pepper:

Yes, I need a new cookie sheet.

And then on to the scallops. I washed them to get the grit off, and cut up 3 scallions. Then regarded the ginger. I was pleased to find a little stump that had come off a big piece that cost a penny and looked to be just the right amount I'd need. But it also looked like a thumb. Peeling a thumb is super creepy, but it was all good.

Thumb size is the perfect amount. Remember that.

Then I took a square of foil and added the scallops, the scallions, the ginger, a tablespoon of reduced sodium soy sauce, and 2 teaspoons of the sesame oil, and sealed the tin foil in a package all tight.

Shiny shiny

Meanwhile, I was boiling one inch of water in a skillet and as soon as it was bubbling, I plopped the packet in there and covered it, leaving it in there for 10 minutes. So I hurried and threw some instant rice on the stove (I know, but I don't have a rice cooker and it was ON SALE) which was perfectly timed, and started on the salad.

It was super easy -- 1 1/2 tablespoons of lemon juice (I didn't have any lemon zest because lemons were a dollar -- pffft -- but there was supposed to be 1/2 teaspoon, oh well), and two teaspoons of extra virgin olive oil, 3/4 teaspoon of sugar and 1/4 teaspoon of mustard powder. Mix all those up then add 2 tablespoons of finely chopped shallot. Then I added the greens and the radishes and tossed, and PEOPLE, I TOASTED THE WALNUTS:

And yes, I burned some because I got carried away chopping the damn shallot, but enough were salvageable. And then I added low fat blue cheese and VOILA:

Okay, so it doesn't look like the cookbook, but it still looked GOOD.

By then, the timer was going off and everything was ready at once and I felt like a chicken without a head. I uncovered the scallops and poked at them, but I couldn't tell so I just put them back on for another five minutes to be on the safe side. (Our stove is old and wonky anyway, so we always have to do that.) So I took the asparagus out of the oven and put it in the special Russel Wright asparagus dish, and it was toasted and crispy, just how we like it:

Mmmm, tasty. And it makes your pee smell, too!

I got the rice ready, and then it came time for the scallops! I took them out of their packet, and drizzled the sauce from the foil and another tablespoon of soy sauce over them (and a bit of the sauce on the rice):

What DO scallops look like in nature, anyway????

Ta da!

Not bad, if I say so myself.

And a little mood music:

I'll swing along with Sinatra, no matter how many courses.

Then Jon came home -- perfect timing -- and my three-course dinner earned five stars. Jon even said that it was the best salad he had ever eaten. It was even better than SALAD IN A BAG!

Look Ma! No leftovers!

And the third course was good, too:

cake-like brownie with low-fat French vanilla ice cream.

So I'm happy to report that not only was my three-course dinner delicious, no one got sick and died as a result of eating it. Which, in itself was an Accomplishment. But the biggest Accomplishment was that I conquered my fear and preconceived notions that I can't cook, because I can. Which, in a way, kind of sucks because now I'm going to have to do this more often.

Julia Child, eat your heart out.

Twenty-eight down, 69 to go.

Accomplishment #27: Give Technology A Break (#6)

2009-02-18T11:14:00.000-08:00

I'll admit, I was sort of late jumping on the whole internet bandwagon.

I had heard about this world wide web thing, and was sort of "meh." After all, I worked in a vintage store and didn't have a stick of new furniture in my apartment, except for an answering machine and microwave oven my dad got me -- the rest of my junk was thrifted or hand me downs, including the TV that needed bunny ears after the free cable got turned off. I was already bad at writing letters, so what would I do with this thing called "email"? And the dot-commers were simply ruining San Francisco. My friends who worked at them had office dogs and basketball courts in their meeting rooms and it all sounded a little fishy to me. I figured it was all just techno thing that I wouldn't be interested in, like Nintendo or something.

And then I heard about eBay. Hello, iMac!

So since the first week of 2000, I have been online. (In waited until the whole Y2K thing was over, because all those dot-commers told everyone it was the end of the world. And, well, there was a big sale.) I delighted in plugging in my Blueberry iMac, and getting my first email, and bidding on my first ebay auction. (And then the thrill was over when I lost my first ebay auction.) I played online solitaire and joined a few Yahoo groups. I "surfed the web." And, I admit, I Googled myself.

I was hooked.

I was a regular Gidget of the web.

So in the past nine years, there have been very few days that I have been internet-less, and I constantly wonder what I did with my time before all this happened. My apartment was messy so I wasn't always cleaning, I had bunny ears on the TV so I wasn't watching, and I read a lot of books, sure, but I still do. Maybe I was going out and seeing friends more often, but now I have facebook for that. So was my life better back then? Was just having the basics more fun, or is life better now?

Now if I'm away from my computer for a few hours, I get antsy. Not that I have anything terribly import to attend to, but it's become a routine and a habit. I need to check my emails (thought most of them are SPAM), and OMG, what is everyone's status on facebook? Granted, most people just write things like, "So-and-so is drinking COFFEE!" and "So-and-so is going to work out!" but it's nice to feel connected. (My status updates aren't much better, BTW. And they've gotten a lot cleaner since my sweet aunt joined facebook, and I don't want her to tell my mom, "Karen's hungover AGAIN!") Same with Twitter, though since word economy is not my strong suit, I have a problem with the 140 characters. Oh, and the blogs, the wonderful blogs...

But sometimes, as I do in my regular life, I feel like I'm stretched too thin with what's going on the web world, and get overwhelmed. I get behind in the wonderful world of Flickr, and God knows I wish I could update my blog every day, but I just wind up playing Lexulous. (I really, really love Lexulous.) Yet the thought of avoiding the internet makes me anxious. It's become a huge part of my life. It's kind of like soap -- you can live without it, but boy, I sure don't want to.

I knew this Accomplishment was going to be tough. So when my friend decided to get a group together for a weekend to go to Tahoe, I thought that would be a perfect opportunity to test myself.

Now, the book says that you have to shut off all technology -- no music, cameras, cell phones, TV, OR computer. Now, that's a little much, and impossible to go cold turkey. This is not the Sierras and Lake Tahoe of the Donner Party -- we were going to drive in a car to a cabin, not take a covered wagon to a homestead. (And, um, eat food from Safeway. Not Aunt Millie.) So giving up the music part was out, and so was the camera -- I had to take incriminating photos of the weekend hijinks. I wasn't too worried about the cell phone -- mine's usually dead and I never realize it, and I hate texting. (THAT'S what I did when I didn't have a computer -- I talked on the phone for hours. Now I rarely do.) TV -- well, I don't watch much TV anyway (except OMG, LOST, I love LOST). In fact, I should watch MORE TV because sometimes there's good stuff on there, and I'm missing out on all the American Idol conversations at work. But the computer part -- there was no way around it. There was no internet connection at the cabin, and I don't have an iPhone so that was that. No internet for a whole three day weekend.

Oh GOD.

DAY ONE.

I got my online time in before we left on our trip, where I got an email from a friend who thought I was mad at her because I seemed stressed the night before. I emailed back that I was worried about the storm coming (that I had found out about on the internet and TV -- had I not turned either on it would have been fine), but in retrospect I was probably weirding out that I was going to be away from the computer.

On the way up, I did get some phone calls from the other people in our caravan to see where everyone was and whether or not we needed chains and if Rena could start making the queso dip as soon as she got to the cabin. So see? Technology was necessary for our SAFETY and NUTRITION. But I left all the texting to my friend Irene, playing a joke on our friend in the car ahead of us that we had passed them and we were already at the cabin. That led to a few laughs. Wheee! Technology is too fun to give up!

The first night was fine, though I did have some pangs. I looked at the people with iPhones, and was jealous. Our friend brought his laptop with a little modem thingy, and I resisted the urge to ask him, "Can I just check my email?" So instead, I had the aforementioned queso dip, some cocktails, danced a little, and went in the hot tub and fell asleep right after. Withdrawl crisis averted.

DAY TWO

I woke up fresh as a daisy (okay, not really, but I didn't feel like I got hit by a bus), and though it felt strange that I couldn't get up and check email, I loved waking up and reading my book on The Roosevelts. Plus our room was a "Greek Myth" theme and it was so bizarre I liked just hanging out in it. Then when others started making their way downstairs, we joined them and ate pancakes, and sat around and talked. And what did we talk about? FACEBOOK. So it was like being online, but, um, not. And then we ventured out in the snow. We lasted all of about 10 minutes, but it was something slightly adventurous. If I had my computer, I... I was going to say that I wouldn't have gone out in the snow, but I would have. Bah.

Snow bunnies

But I was feeling antsy, so I went to Safeway to get out of the house. While there, I did get a call on my cell with requests for more Velveeta for more queso and some tampons. So it was a good thing I had my cell phone, otherwise some people would have been very, very unhappy. (And I'm talking more about the Velveeta than the tampons.)

To get past the online withdrawls when I got back, and making sure I didn't cave and borrow anyone's iPhone or the laptop, I took a nap and then ate lots of junk food and drank a lot of delicious White Russians and then had Big Gay Dance Party with an ipod, dancing to Erasure and ABBA and Lily Allen, laughing hysterically. And instead of writing a "note" on facebook about 25 Things No One Knows or whatever, we ended the night with "I Never" and crawled -- literally -- to bed. Day Two was over, and I'd made it.

DAY THREE

I woke up feeling like I got hit by a bus, and was in no mood for much of anything. It would have been great to hole up with my computer and aimlessly stumble around on the internet, but that wasn't an option, so I bucked up and talked to everyone and we laughed and laughed about the hijinks from the night before. And we ate more queso and pigs in blankets and then we actually played SCRABBLE. With tiles. We had to keep score, unlike with Lexulous, that does it all for you. But I discovered my Scrabble skills have not suffered in the slightest, and kicked butt.

When almost everyone else trooped off upstairs to watch horror movies, I decided to forgo that bit of technology, and instead went to the casinos with 3 others where we drank champagne and played nickel slots. (Now that's technology I wish never got updated -- I hate all the lines to bet on and the tickets that come out. I like the cherries and the one to 3 lines and the glorious sound of coins spilling out.) When we got home, we drank more champagne and played a rousing game of celebrity, and laughed and laughed and went to bed, all of us sad that it was the last night.

DAY FOUR:

By then I didn't care about the internet -- we had to say goodbye to our amazing cabin and our friends, and get home. And I knew that 8000 emails would be waiting for me, and that it would be a pain to catch up. So by then, it was the opposite -- I was dreading signing on. But I didn't think about it much, as we laughed the whole way home about stuff that had happened over the weekend. By then I already missed the weekend more than I had missed the internet.

And when I got home, sure enough, my inbox was full of junk to weed through and correspond to. And without print and newspapers, I realized, I had no idea what went on in the world while I was away, and that was a little weird. I didn't know if it had rained the whole time, if the Stimulus package had been signed, if any celebrities died... I was totally disconnected. And after a few minutes of being online, I gave up and went to bed.

So here are some things I learned:

I can live without the internet, and I don't break into hives or seizures.

However, I don't get that much more stuff done, because I am inherently lazy -- if there's no internet, that just means a NAP.

It's okay if I don't check into facebook. Everyone is the same -- still drinking coffee, still working out, and still broke, hungry, stoked and or drunk. Life goes on, and so do status updates. But -- it sucks cleaning out your inbox after not logging in for a while, that's for sure.

And sometimes, getting back to basics and the simple pleasures in life are truly the most magical things.

Behold the greatest technological invention ever:

Facebook will NEVER be as funny as farts.

I SO need an iPhone.

Twenty-seven down, seventy to go.

I won a Major Award!

2009-02-08T22:48:00.000-08:00

The magnificent Megan of All I Need is Everything bestowed this terrific award on me. She does one of my most favorite blogs on the internet -- the perfect blend of fun, personal, and thought provoking. I just love it when she posts something new -- it makes my whole day. So for her to honor me with this -- I feel just like Sally Field, but even more surprised and flattered. Thank you so much, Megan!

The rules for the award are as follows:

Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass the Award on to 5 most-deserving Blog Friends. You must link to the author and name of the blog from where he/she has received the award.

You must display the Award on your blog and link to THIS POST, which explains the Award. Each blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit THIS POST and add your name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, they will be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honor. You must post these rules on your blog.

But choosing just 5??? That's tough!!! As far as I'm concerned, all the blogs on my list and that I follow are award-worthy. Some of them make me laugh out loud, some get me teary, some make me envious for all the amazing photos or cool things they post, some inspire me... and ALL of them are my favorites.

Sigh.

But I'm going to play by the rules. To make things easier for me (after all, I AM AN AWARD WINNER AND SHOULD HAVE A LIMO AND A TIARA, THANKYOUVEDDYMUCH), I am going to exclude any blogs from anyone I've met in person, lest anyone think I'm biased. (They already know that I'm their fan, anyway.) And I'm going to go with blogs that are heavier on the writing side. (Though I'm in love with the photography and music and collecting blogs on my list, too.) So that said, here are my Superior Scribblers:

1. MONKEY MUCK. My friend Dr. Monkey delights me daily with his political musings, his cooking tips, his glimpses into his every day life, and his awesome 1970's menswear photos -- all done with brilliance and humor. I'm happy to have this monkey on my back.

2. CURLY WURLY. This blog KILLS ME. Maria finds the most wonderfully outrageous Mid-Century photos and articles, but it's her commentary that nails it, all done with aplomb and humor and I love her for it.

3. THE GIRL CAN'T HELP IT Biting, sarcastic and funny as hell, Fast Eddie's Retro Rags makes me laugh out loud each time I read her blog. She doesn't know me from Adam, but I wish I could have a cocktail (or 6) with her.

Oh man, how can there be only TWO left????

4. LOVE, ELIZABETH Sigh. I love this blog so much. Each time I click and begin to read, I feel as if I'm starting a lovely novel that I don't want to end. I savor every word, and can't wait for the day that I can read Elizabeth's words bound and on paper.

5. OUCHEBA So smart, so witty, and I always find myself yelping with laughter. And he doesn't have comments enabled (as far as I can tell, but I'm a luddite), and so many times I've wanted to tell him how much I love his blog. So here's my chance.

Again, thank you, Megan, for such an honor. I love doing this blog and for you to recognize me is such a thrill, you have no idea. Oh wait, you do -- you're an award winner, too!

And here's another award winner I love:

I feel totally Accomplished.

Accomplishment #26: Listen to New Music (#5)

2009-02-06T17:20:00.000-08:00

When I was an intrepid new wave teen, it was very important to me to be cutting edge. I had to know all the new music -- and had to have all the new music -- before anyone else did. In fact, I was so bitchin that I had the twelve inch MAXI SINGLE of "Hold Me Now" by The Thompson Twins BEFORE THE WHOLE RECORD CAME OUT. That, my friends, is not messing around. It had a "special dub mix" on the other side. Did anyone else at Monte Vista High School in 1983 have that record? I highly doubt it.

Okay, okay, it wasn't all that cutting edge, considering that song was doomed for high school dances and Easy Listening radio stations.

But back then, it was so much easier to find new music and hear new music and get really excited about it, and even wear pins to advertise one's allegiance to it. It was all so new to me then, and I was completely invested in it. We had an awesome "alternative" radio station called The Quake that I listened to religiously, and if I heard something I liked, I saved up my measly allowance (or my lunch money) and went to the record store and bought it. (And would sit on my bed and study the album cover and the liner notes and lyrics.) And it was easy enough to explore back then -- if the people on the record cover had even slightly weird haircuts, or if it was in a thrift shop and from the 50's or 60's, I was all over it.

I loved making mixed tapes for my friends, carefully choosing songs that segued into each other and that sounded good together, and that had meaning. I happily sat on the floor in front of my stereo, amidst piles of records and tapes, waiting for the perfect moment to hit "pause" between the songs, and cursing when the tape ran out before the song ended. Worse was when it wasn't just the usual snap, crackle and pop of records, but when it would skip -- I would wince and just flick the needle, and more often than not left it. (My friend Leslie used to call it "The Karen Finlay Special Remix Version.") While the songs played, I tried to think of witty titles for the tapes, and decorated the inserts by hand with colored marking pens (adding to the piles of records mess), experimenting with different handwriting and fonts. I spent hours working on those tapes, and loved giving them out. (Rumor has it that some of those tapes are still out there -- I love that, too.) And I loved it when people made them for me, too.

Of course, I wasn't all that knowledgeable or cool. I was a dopey kid from the suburbs with a 12 pm curfew and limited access to MTV. (I only got to watch it at friends' houses -- my dad thought it was all crap and he refused to subscribe.) So it's not like I really knew anything too obscure, but I certainly hated all the mainstream stuff that the other kids at my school were into. (Heavy metal was like totally gnarly!) I didn't know about college radio, and I wasn't angry or brave enough to be into the whole punk rock thing. But music was my life, and I took it very seriously, proclaiming my love by scrawling band names all over my blue cloth binders and PeeChee folders.

When I got to college, I had a roommate with big hair and an unnatural tan and a penchant for All Things With Lips On Them. My side of the dorm room had Style Council and Aretha Franklin posters and pictures carefully cut out of Interview magazine on the wall; she had airbrushed posters of lips. And a lips phone. And pens, mugs and stationery with lips on them. And since it was her side of the room, I woke up every morning to the sight of a poster of a pair of shiny lips sucking on a succulent lollipop or something ridiculously phallic. She woke up to my poster of Paul Weller and milk crates full of records and tapes that I had lugged from home, most of which she deemed "weird." "Why do you have so many records?" she asked. (Her music collection consisted of Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet" and Janet Jackson and Cameo tapes she played in her Nissan Sentra.) "Isn't that, like, a guy thing?"

"A guy thing?" I asked, confused. "Why would it be a guy thing?"

"Because guys are all into records and music," she said, using a pik to fluff up her bangs. "Girls are, like, into clothes and stuff."

Score zero for feminism. Needless to say, we hated each other by Christmas break.

So, okay, maybe I was a total geek and socially maladjusted in my betty roommate's eyes (and ohhh, what I could have retorted about What It Means To Be Obsessed With Airbrushed Lips Posters), but that meant that most of my friends were, too -- boys and girls alike. Back then, and to this day, most of my friendships have music as the common ground, or at least that's how they started out. I have met so many of my friends through shows and clubs or events, all revolving around music. Being part of a subculture (or a few, depending on how you look at it) was a big part of my life, and the music -- even possibly more so than the clothes and accoutrements -- was the driving force. In a lot of ways, the music I listened to was my identity, and I was passionate about it.

But a funny thing happened on the way to getting older -- the music got too loud.

I don't know exactly when or how it happened, but I kind of lost the zeal for finding new music. I get 6 radio stations in my car (thanks to an Unfortunate Incident with an antennae and a car wash), all of which pretty much suck. There's no one station, like we had back in high school, that I turn on right away -- I push the buttons over and over, hating it all. (But, well, 6 stations doesn't leave me with many choices, I'll admit.) The "alternative" station is the worst. The Fall-Out-Chemical-Romance-Boy crapola (Good God, I sound just like my dad) makes me want Tylenol -- with cyanide in it. MTV and VH1 doesn't play music anymore, and when I go into a music store or open itunes, I just feel kind of lost. More and more I revert back to the music I loved when I was younger, and listen to mostly music from the 40's to the 60's, which is what I've always loved anyway. I'm hardly bereft -- my tastes are all over the place and there's plenty of music to fill it. But new music? I know barely any of it anymore, and lack the inspiration to search.

But I do miss that thrill of discovery, and the excitement of hearing a song and then going to seek it out. So when this Accomplishment popped up, I was pretty happy about it. And I had A Plan. A nefarious, greedy, and lazy Plan.

Last year I was invited to join a CD Club with 11 strangers, and we all had a month where we made 11 cds for each member of the club. I loved the idea -- after all, I had loved making those mix tapes. And while I did get to hear some great new music, not all of it was my cuppa tea. (And I'm sure mine wasn't theirs, either.) So when the year was up, I didn't renew my membership, instead deciding to branch out and start a club of my own.

And hence, my Plan. I could hear new music, and pick out the people that I would personally ransack their record collections, all for the price of blank CDS and postage, and have it all delivered to my doorstep. AND Accomplish something for the Blog. Nefarious, greedy, lazy AND fabulous.

So I picked out about 10 people, all of whom are musical afficiandos within their specific genres with enough diversity to make it interesting, and who I figured would be into it. "New" music wasn't necessarily a focus, but rather "new" to me and others in the group. And then, it EXPLODED.

Because it was such a good idea, someone told their two friends, and so on and so on, until it was like that old Faberge Organics shampoo commercial and suddenly we had 25 people in the group. Which was more than fine with me. All the more music to enjoy, right? Two CDS in a month, why that's back to the old days when I used to walk out of Amoeba records with a bag of CDs!

And I must say, it has worked out beautifully. (Except for CD Clubber for December Jeff who STILL hasn't sent his out... AHEM.) We've gotten to hear music in R&B, Northern Soul, Rockabilly, Country, Mod, Garage, 60's, pop... and yes, even NEW music. And we only started in September, so we still have a long way and a lot of CDs to go.

Mine was last month, in January. And like I used to make those mix tapes long ago, I carefully picked out songs that segued into each other and sounded good together. And some of them had meaning. And because I take this blog verrrry seriously, I tried to be creative and stretch and find some songs that were even recorded in this decade, and songs that might be "new" to the other people in the club as well. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed doing it. And though it was all through my laptop and itunes, so there weren't piles of records and tapes and magic markers, I still gave it a cute cover:

Okay, it wasn't by hand. But I love this image and thought it went well with the theme.

So in doing the CD Club, I am fulfilling the Accomplishment of Listening to New Music. But I also found something from my past that I had forgotten that I had loved to do, and for a few hours there, I felt like the "old" me -- inspired and falling in love with the thrill of not just discovery, but sharing that discovery as well.

And here are some discoveries for you:

A guy I know has an excellent music blog that you should check out:

Like Dynamite to Your Brain (good, rare 60's gems, and links to other music blogs as well)

And a girl I know has an excellent music and photography blog, too: All Eyes and Ears

And let me share one of my ALL TIME FAVORITE songs with you:

Karen by The Saturn V

So screw my old roommate. It's not a "Guy" thing. Music is universal. Old OR new.

Twenty-six down, 71 to go.

An Accomplishment for YOU: shop for a great cause!

2009-02-03T19:09:00.000-08:00

I have a post halfway written, but wanted to share something with you first, so that YOU, TOO, can Accomplish Greatness.

My dear, darling friend Eartha Kitsch just lost her sweet kitty Saki to kidney failure. She's heartbroken, of course, as I was when I lost my beloved BeBe to the same disease in June last year. But where I couldn't even think about cats in general, Eartha has turned around and proven that she is a much better soul than I am, and that's why I love her so.

From now until March 1st, 100% of all proceeds from her wonderful Etsy shop will go to benefit a nonprofit, no-kill animal shelter in Saki's memory. The shelter is the Helen O. Krause Animal Foundation in Dillsburg, Pennsylvania, where Eartha's friend volunteers.

Here's a little sampling of not only Eartha's Etsy shop but of her perfect photostream:

Original here: With Love for our Furry Friends

(And check out the rest of her photostream, too. It is, hands down, one of the best things in the whole wide world wide web.)

And here is her Etsy Shop!earthakitsch

Did you see those valentines? They are the cutest EVER, even cuter than the ones we made with doilies in kindergarten.

And if you're a bah-love-humbug but feel like you should do something for this cause, my birthday's coming up:scary scary bunnies I secretly long for

She wrote to me, "I'm really excited about the shelter fund. I just wanted to do something...anything...to put back out into the universe thanks for giving her to us. I miss her like oxygen...that's the truth."

So it's a win-win situation. YOU get to shop and buy either Eartha's original creations or found goodies, and the animals get care and love, too.

And that's an Accomplishment.

Interpret a Dream...

2009-01-19T18:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, there really is an Accomplishment in the book to interpret a dream, and last night I had a dream that I was trying to get to The Inauguration, and worried because I was going to miss it and was on a bus and then running along The Potomac, frantically trying to get there. And I thought, what better day to do this Accomplishment, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day...

But I don't want to be snarky or clever. I know what the dream means. And the Accomplishment of today and tomorrow is a joint Accomplishment from and for all of us, and a dream come true for so many.

On the eve of the most historical day of my lifetime, save for 9/11 on the opposite end of the spectrum, I just want to tell you all to enjoy tomorrow and we can take a collective sigh of relief.

Because as far as I'm concerned, a nightmare is over and new dreams can begin.

Hooray!!!!! YES WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Accomplishment #25: Bury a Time Capsule (#97)

2009-01-11T15:07:00.000-08:00

I LOVE the idea of time capsules. But I love the idea of time machines better, where I could potentially go back in time and buy all 1950's clothes, furniture and tschochkes I could ever want and then buy lots of other various crap I could sell on ebay for oodles of money. And I'd also like to travel back in time to The Moments Where I Was About To Make a Giant Mistake -- where I could say instead, "No thank you, I would not like to go on a date with you because you are a moron" or "No, thank you, I actually don't need another drink." Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

But time capsules are actually do-able, and I love the stories surrounding them. My favorite is the story of Lilly Dache's cornerstone in 1937 in her book, Talking Through My Hats, published in 1946.

The milliner extraordinaire, trying on one of her own creations.

To give a bit of background, Lilly Dache was the most fabulous and famous and successful hatmaker of her time, back when women wore hats every day. (I have a Lilly Dache hat from the 40's but I don't have the complicated hair-do one needs to wear it, so it sits like a sad little crow on the top of my head.) She was so popular and successful she wrote a book about her fame and success. And, well, it reads like a book by one who is famous and successful and Not All That Modest. (But it's not as trying as another autobiography by another Fabulous and Famous and Successful designer, Elsa Schiaparelli's Shocking Life. Schiap actually alternates between first and third person throughout the book, depending on her mood I guess. She would have loved Facebook's status updates: "Elsa Schiaparelli just designed another successful line, using her signature color shocking pink!" I love her, but it's just too too. Lilly Dache, however, is much more likable in writing, but both of them are simply divuun when it comes to fashion.)

Anyway, Lilly Dache, who was even quoted in popular music in her day, became so famous and successful that she built a "castle for hats" at 56th St. and Park Ave in NYC -- very chi chi indeed. And when she was making the plans, she had heard about an old house in Texas that had been excavated and a horned toad in a box had been found, and it had been there for 125 years. It was "as quick and agile and full of pep as the day he moved in," according to Miss Dache, and it had apparently brought good luck. She wished she could have good luck, too, and her friend gave her a little horned toad in a metal box (with holes punched in it)to put in the cornerstone, along with a copy of the first hat she had ever made, the first newspaper that praised her in America, a poem from a friend, and some childhood sentimental mementoes from France. Voila, her extra fancy time capsule!

A few weeks later, as the building was going up, the friend who gave her the little ancient toad played a joke on Miss Dache. She called the SPCA and told them that there was a toad buried alive in the foundation of the building. Gasp. Scandal! It hit all the newspapers and Lilly had to dig it all back up to get the toad out. So much for the good luck toad, though it wound up living in the penthouse in a jewel encrusted glass box. And I guess he wound up being good luck, after all, because Lilly Dache became more popular than ever and went on to design creations like this:

Yeah, I'd say she did okay for herself.

So I guess the lesson there is to never bury a living thing in your time capsule. You can get in a lot of trouble.

But I've been thinking a lot about this Accomplishment, ever since I got this book. And I worried a little. For one thing, we rent -- I have no where permanent to bury anything. If I buried a time capsule in the yard here and came back in 20 years, I think the people living here would be a little bummed. ("Hi, I'm Karen. I lived here a long time ago when I had all my teeth. Can I dig up your begonias to get to a box I left here?") And another thing -- if time capsules are supposed to encapsulate time, well, what means anything to me that is indicative of 2009? Everything I love seems to be from another era, save for things like good shampoo and modern conveniences, and I don't want to part with my laptop or ipod for an experiment. And I need my shampoo. (I haven't used any today, and if you could see me you know that I do need it. Badly.) Plus -- this blog and my flickr and all the other stuff on the internets out there is my time capsule, albeit a flimsy one. (I do wonder what will happen to all those digital photos and all this writing. Will it just stay in cyberspace forever? Who knows.)

I also tend to think that Time Capsules are most meaningful when community organized. One from a town in the 50's was dug up recently, and I thought it was so cool -- the old car was rusted and there was water damage to some of the items (I can't remember exactly what happened), but it really showed how much the town had changed, how life in general had changed and progressed and what families and businesses, if any, were still there. Observers were wistful and nostalgic and amused (the fifties are funneeee!), but a lot of people were happy with progress -- and so many memories were stirred. To me, that's the perfect outcome for a successful time capsule, where many people are affected. All I have to do to dig up a personal time capsule is go on facebook and see that the guy who sat two rows up from me in second grade is on there and his friend SUPER POKED him. (Things never really change.)

I jest, but I have been thinking about it. So I was thrilled when I went to MOMA in San Francisco a few weeks ago and discovered they were doing a time capsule as part of their "Art of Participation" exhibit. "Aha!" I thought. "An Accomplishment!"

There's a van (called the Ant Van) that has a crazy hookah-like thing in it (even the license plate of the van says HUQQAH, and the console is complete with water pipe sound effects) that you can plug your ipod or phone or camera into it, and it takes random songs or images for a time capsule that will be "opened" in the year 2030.

HUQQAH's hookah.

So I handed over my camera, and this was the image they chose. There were a lot of images to choose from because I always forget to delete images, and of course the image it chose was not of me looking foxy (those don't even exist anyway) or with 8 chins (those images do exist), but of my friends from the Mid-Century Supper Club potluck which I thought was rather nice:

Sherry, Christina and Sarah, potlucking out

and my ipod came up with this song:

Frank Wilson "Do I Love You"

(The story behind this song from my friend Bryan Martin, fantastic DJ, collector and history major: "It was a Motown recording. Bit of a story with that tune as it was never properly released at Motown (Frank Wilson was one of the 'house' songwriters for Motown) but there were a couple of test pressings released in the 60's that sat unheard until an early Northern Soul dj (Simon Soussan, I believe) came across it here in the US on one of his record buying trips in the 70's. He sold it for a few hundred pounds back then. Fast forward to today and its one of the rarest Northern 45's around, I believe a copy sold for around $30,000 in the last year or two. Apparently there a three known copies. The 45 has been repressed and bootlegged many times though and the repress can be found for cheap thankfully." Thanks, Bryan!)

So what is great about this Accomplishment is that it confirmed what I suspected: if left up to me to create a time capsule, everything would look -- and sound -- like it was from another era, not 2009. In the picture my friends look like they stepped out of 1965, and so did the song. My contributions are already a time capsule. But I love that in 2030, people of the future might just be a little bit confused. And, I admit, I'm much happier with that. And I would have been bummed if the hookah had chosen the World's Worst Photo of Me or my most embarrassing song on my ipod, which is a toss up between "Point of No Return" by Expose (don't ask, it was for a Specific Purpose) or anything on the Xanadu soundtrack (which I LOVE). (And see? Even those songs are from other eras. And ones with ugly fashion to boot!)

If you'd like to participate as well, you have until Jan. 29th. Here's the link for more details:

http://www.sfmoma.org/events/1329

And think about it. What would you put in a time capsule? I'd be interested to hear... But remember, no live toads.

Twenty-five down, 72 to go.

Thank you!

2009-01-11T13:38:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to take a quick detour and thank everyone so much for your comments on my last post -- you guys are the best. You make me feel like a natural writer.

And does anyone else have that thing where you think of a good zinger comment AFTER the fact? That's how I feel about my 16 things, because I thought of way better ones. (And have promptly forgot them, too.) But FYI:

* Little Richard bought me lunch once and it was AWESOME and he totally did that "Ooohhh WEEE" thing.

* One time I sat next to Leatherface's stunt double at a Hollywood brunch. "Don't you recognize me?" he asked. When I shook my head in a panic (was I supposed to?), he proclaimed, "Darling, I'm LEATHERFACE!" He had also worked as Peggy Lee's personal assistant for a while. "Sweetie," he said to me, "That bitch's thigh was as big as my TORSO." I LOVED HIM.

He didn't really look like this. He was wearing blue contact lenses.

* I have never seen The Lord of the Rings movies, and now I won't because it's a matter of principle.

I just thought you would all like to know those amazingly fascinating things. But really -- I want to say thank you. Just doing this blog -- and all the encouragement I've gotten -- has been the best motivation to write and keep it going. Y'all are the wind beneath my wings. Whatever that means.

And now back to blogging. OOOOOHHH WEEEE!

Accomplishment #24: Tell Someone Your Darkest Secret (#90)

2009-01-08T19:07:00.000-08:00

Okay, swear to God and cross your heart and kiss your elbow you won't tell anyone my deepest, darkest secret?

Promise?

Swear? Pinky swear?

Pfffft. Yeah, right. Like I'd tell the INTERNET my deepest, darkest secret. Except I don't really have one. I have a slight problem where if I know someone for 5 seconds I open my mouth and blather on and on, so I would make a terrible spy. I wish I could say that I did lead an exciting double life and I went on secret missions while wearing a leather cat suit and Shangri-La boots and a wig, but nope. My biggest secret was that once, in second grade, I used the Boys' Bathroom by mistake and Paul Phillips and some nasty fourth graders saw me and threatened to tell everyone about the disgraceful thing I had done unless I gave them the treat out of my lunch every day. I was so humiliated that I didn't confess to this until... well, I guess now, because I don't even remember at what point in my life I could think about it without blushing and feeling the shame. (I was probably about 30, though.) And it doesn't really come up in conversation, though I suspect those nasty former fourth graders are on facebook and I will be dumb enough to accept their requests and they will probably write, "KAREN PEED IN THE BOYS' BATHROOM" on my wall. (Well, better they write it on THAT wall instead of written it on the bathroom wall years ago.)

So since I don't have any real secrets (and if I do, I'm sure I'll tell you later anyway) I'll do the meme that's sweeping Flickr & the blogosphere: "16 Things You Don't Know About Me" or whatever. Problem is, you all DO know 16 things about me that might be vaguely interesting. I even asked Jon, the man with whom I have been living FOR YEARS, the man to whom I am ENGAGED TO MARRY, if he could think of anything interesting or mysterious about me, and he couldn't even come up with anything. "Ummm..." he said. "You like Queen and ELO?"

Thanks a lot. (That is true, though.)

So here goes:

1. I was born nearly 8 weeks premature. To paraphrase my favorite author, Dorothy Parker, "That was the last time I was early to anything." It's true, I am chronically late, and I attribute it to the fact that for every minute I was born early, I'm making up for it. But it's really because I am totally lame and probably have weird time/space continuum issues or a mental illness, which sounds more medical than being just flaky. I was also on 4 pounds at birth, and I have more than made up for that, too. Like by A LOT.

2. I am a total packrat and have too much STUFF. But every time I get rid of something, I find myself looking for it and then cursing myself for getting rid of it. I have a hard time throwing stuff away, because I become sentimentally attached. But I like being a packrat and keeping stuff -- I love my stuff. No one likes helping me move my stuff, though. Including me.

3. I had six wisdom teeth. I still have them, but just not in my mouth. (See? I have a hard time throwing stuff away.)

4. I worry incessantly. Now that the economy is so bad, I wonder what the hell I was worried about before, because things felt like a cakewalk then compared to now. But I've had worry lines in my forehead since 4th grade, which is why I've always had bangs. I have severe cowlicks -- two in front, and one in back. Which don't work so hot with the aforementioned bangs. I worry about that, too.

5. If I could have anything in the world, I would want magical powers like Samantha Stevens. I hate housework so if I could just twinkle my nose and abracadabra it's all done, my life would be fabulous.

6. I'm afraid that I am very shallow and immature. I was looking at a book catalog this morning, and there were all these books about history and current events, and like, totally smart and deep stuff? And the book that appealed to me most was a book about some girl going to college and losing her virginity or something. And then I read a celebrity blog and put on Cherry Jolly Rancher flavored Lip Smacker. I wonder what happened to me that my emotional and mental growth simply stunted at the age of 16. (And at 16, all I wanted to be was an adult. Go figure.)

7. I got the Beatles' autographs for Christmas from my sister. When she was little, the Beatles were in San Francisco for a concert around her birthday, and they were staying at the Fairmont Hotel. My dad was at a meeting at the Fairmont and knew the manager, and somehow he finagled getting their autographs for her (they brought up a card from the gift shop on a silver platter to their hotel room, complete with little fake Beatles on it) and brought them home, where she was having a Beatles themed birthday party. "I ran into some friends who wanted to give this to you," he said. She opened the card and screamed. The card was framed and hung in my room when I was growing up, but she took them back and I always joked with her to leave them for me in her will. But she gave them to me this Christmas, and I cried. I don't care how much they're worth; they're family history and therefore priceless. (Except I would TOTALLY go on Antiques Roadshow with them.)

8. I have a bachelor's degree in English and an MFA in creative writing, but I wouldn't know a dangling participle if it hit me in the face. My grammar is terrible, and my typing is even worse. But I am signing up for a grammar and copy editing class to remedy this, though I'm pretty much stuck with being a bad typist forever.

9. Despite my terrible grammar and lack of typing skills, I have written a novel. I did it during NaNoWriMo when I was unemployed a few years ago. It's a Young Adult Novel. It has a beginning, middle and end and chapters and everything. It's still on a zip disk and I'm too scared to submit it anywhere -- I took it to a workshop once, full of hope and sincerity. The first chapter was brutally massacred to the point where after I left that group of people, I sat in my car and sobbed for an hour before I could go home. It scares me to even think about looking at it or sending it anywhere, and makes me feel defeated and I can't shake it. So even though I have an MFA in CREATIVE WRITING, I still don't feel that I will ever be a writer. (And clearly I have a little, um, self esteem/ fear of failure or success issue going here. Sigh.)

10. I am a Universal Life Church minister. Thanks to a click of a mouse, I can marry my friends, and have performed six weddings, and I am happy to announce all the couples are still together (and legitimately married). I need to send away for my special parking placard. I am also available to do exorcisms.

11. I knew JT Leroy was a fraud before most people did. Just ask my friend Leslie, because I told her that ALL THE TIME. (Sorry, Leslie.)

12. I love my boyfriend, friends and family more than anything in the world. And Norman the cat, even though I didn't think I could love him after losing my sweet kitty BeBe in June.

13. I don't drink coffee, except on rare occasions I drink cinnamon dolce lattes from Starbucks. (I know, I know, Starbucks is bad and all that, but even though I tend to feel guilty about everything else on the planet, I'm not going to feel guilty for drinking a few coffees from Starbucks.) I think not drinking coffee also makes me feel more immature -- it's such an "adult beverage." Instead I drink Diet Coke for caffeine addiction.

14. Speaking of addiction, I am addicted to LOST. It is the best TV show EVER, and I am eagerly awaiting the premiere of the new season to start -- that and Mad Men, my other favorite show. (I love The Office, too.) And our friends Carlos and Irene got us hooked on Buffy and Angel, which also RULE.

15. I started my blog because I was feeling bogged down by inertia and laziness, and as I told you before, I'm a worrier. So I was worrying that I wasn't writing, that life was passing me by, and that I wasn't DOING anything so I started this blog. And it's been a really, really good thing. I've found myself actually doing things that I never would have done, and thinking and planning things to do. I haven't gone too far out of my comfort zone yet, but just these little things make me feel so good and so much more motivated than I've been lately. But I am out of my comfort zone -- I'm actually writing, and writing PUBLICLY. The terror and thrill and greatness of it makes me feel so good. If that feeling could be bottled, I'd be drunk with it. And all of you reading this -- I thank you from the deepest, darkest bottom of my heart. It means the world to me, and your comments make me feel like a million bucks. So my blog, Flickr, reuniting with old friends on Facebook, Norman and Drunk Yoda were the best things that happened to me in 2008. (And not getting any speeding tickets.) Actually, there were many good things that happened in 2008, even though it felt like a bad year. There are always good things that happen during every year, even when things seem simply AWFUL. I am a very lucky, and very blessed person and I know it, except when I get stuck in traffic.

16. Sixteen is my favorite number.

Okay, you guys, like don't tell anyone, 'k? Shhhhh!!!!

And yes, I have a sweater that matches my blog. Dork.

Twenty-four down, 73 to go.

Accomplishment #23: Throw a House Party (#15)

2009-01-04T09:57:00.000-08:00

Every year, without fail, my mom threw a birthday party for me. We would send out a bunch of invitations to all my little friends, and I would don my party dress and in later years my bathing suit, and wait for my guests to arrive so we could play games and eat hot dogs and cake and I would get PRESENTS. I loved every second of it. (Especially the presents.)

I scored an AWESOME pinwheel.

But I was definitely not the kind of teenager who threw keggers when my parents went out of town. For one thing, my parents didn't go out of town that much, which definitely would have limited any sort of kegger or party opportunity. Secondly, if and when they did go out of town, they sure didn't leave me alone, leaving me instead with my sister who would be only too happy to tell my parents how horrible I was. (Some things never change.) And thirdly, jocks and cheerleaders and all the popular kids went to keggers or parties like in "16 Candles." Me? My mom was still throwing me a birthday party every year until I was 19, where every snickering new wave teenager in the Tri-County area would show up for hot dogs and Cokes and give my dad coronaries. One time he corralled a bunch of spiky haired kids, who had sneaked down the street to smoke cloves, back into the driveway from down the street in his Cadillac while brandishing a bullwhip out the window. Ohmigod, I was, like, soooo embarrassed! Gaaaaawwwd, Daaaad! By the time I was 17 my mom sent him to the movies and told him not to come back until late. While the party itself was uncool, everyone always showed up. (Even though my dad was sorta scary.)

One time, however, in my sophomore year in high school, my parents had friends over for cocktails, and then went out somewhere fancy for dinner. So I called my friends and told them to come over on their way to a party to which I hadn't been invited (the girl and I were in a fight so I was the only one not invited -- ohhh, high school drama). When they got there, we sat in the living room and finished the leftover half-fingers of liquor in my dad's signature highball glasses, and I pretended I was hosting the most glamorous party in town. And then they convinced me to crash the icky girl's party, after we bouffanted my hair and put on about 18 pounds of black eyeliner, all crooked, thanks to laughing and the watery cocktails. And as we drove to the party, I discovered that they had done a weird scavenger hunt in my house; Bob and Aaron had stolen the Duraflame log from the fireplace, Laura had stolen a weird Buddha statue a neighbor had given my mother, and Traecy had STOLEN MY GOLDFISH. She had scooped it into a plastic baggie and as she wagged it in my face in the car, I nearly fainted. I had had that fish since I won it by throwing ping pong balls at it at the fifth grade carnival, and was really very attached.

So we made an appearance at this stupid party where I wasn't invited, my hair in a ratty bouffant while holding a log and my goldfish. When I got home, my parents were there, waiting for me,and somehow they KNEW. (Maybe they measured all the glasses before they left.) "DID YOU HAVE A PARTY?" my father said. "Ummm, not exactly," I said, but I had to explain the log and the goldfish. If you think it sounds weird and confusing on here, imagine how it sounded as I tried to explain it to my parents, who did not find it funny AT ALL. I was tooootally grounded. But you will be happy to know that the fish returned safe and sound, and lived for TWELVE YEARS.

But despite being grounded and making a fool out of myself, that night, along with all of my past birthday soirees and watching my parents host packed to the rafters St. Patrick's Day parties that people talked about for years afterward, gave me an insatiable taste for throwing parties. I couldn't wait turn eighteen and be Holly Golightly, throwing the wildest and most glamorous cocktail parties in town. I found old invitations in thrift stores, buying them so that I could send them out someday. I dreamed of having my own tiara, and graciously serving guests martinis and canapes. I couldn't wait to move out of my parents' house into a glamorous apartment, where I would listen to cha cha music while wearing spike heels and false eyelashes.

But, of course, life didn't quite turn out like that. For one thing, I lived in a dorm, and subsequently un-glamorous apartments. Sure, there were parties (and one even involved a daring escape on the fire escape, the police and a restraining order, but that's another story for another day), but they were hardly the martini and canape type. It was more like beer and quarters and party tricks like hanging spoons from noses. No one wanted to dress up or listen to cha cha music, either. Sigh. I was quite discouraged. Where was my glamorous life, and not the kind Sheila E was talking about?

But I persevered, and the parties did keep getting better and better. Maybe it was because I finally got a tiara, or maybe because I realized that as hostess I could wear whatever I wanted. (Which, as it turned out, was NOT spike heels. Ouch.) Maybe I discovered that "Spinach-Dip-In-A-Bread-Bowl," no matter how delicious, was deemed as tacky by my stylish gay friend who Knew Such Things, and that freed me from mundane party fare. (But I LIKE spinach-dip-in-a-bread-bowl. I hereby decree its comeback.) Or maybe we just got older and could appreciate things like Cha Cha and martinis while hanging spoons from our noses. But I know it's mostly because I have lots of really interesting friends who make a party fabulous.

In any case, and not to brag -- I throw a good party. I've had parties where there have been 100 people crammed into my apartment, and some where there's been just a handful of people. I've had themed parties (the Beatnik Party and the Cinco de Mayo Party of 95 being the very best), and then parties for no reason at all, but they always end with dancing and a big mess and stories for days. And from what I've heard, they've been good, or I have very polite friends.

But I must admit -- sometimes I hate having parties, specifically the night and morning before and the morning after. Cleaning up before and after a ton of people is not my idea of a favorite activity, and I wish I had powers like Samantha Stevens. Now I worry about bothering the neighbors, when before I didn't really care too much. (Our next door neighbors already hate us. Perhaps it's the garden gnomes.) I have found that one of the best solutions is to throw a party in a bar or somewhere so you don't have to clean up and spend a ton of money for food, but there's something about house parties that is more fun and personal and random drunk guys won't come in and hit on your friends and creep them out. (Okay, well, sometimes that does happen.) But during the party I realize how worth it it all is, surrounded by friends and warmth and lots of booze.

So I have a lot of experience in the whole "Throw a House Party" genre, but since this was an Accomplishment I had to accomplish for the blog, what better excuse to throw one? With that in mind, I joined forces with another Hostess with the Mostess, Jennye, and we threw another Mid Century Supper Club Potluck party.

Now you may remember Jennye from such blog posts as join a club and supper club invite. She is a hostess extraordinaire. She always has good plates and napkins and makes Martha Stewart look like a not very good thing. Jennye should do it professionally, I swear.

We decided that this wasn't going to be the regular potluck -- NO. We were going to stick with the theme (it works, I swear), but the Holiday theme was going to make it bigger and better than ever. This was going to be an EXTRAVAGANZA! The house was already decorated for Christmas, festooned with Knee-Hugger elves and spinning tree, so we didn't have to worry about that.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with not too much care

And we had TWINKLES:

Twinkles is my new best friend.

We were also going to switch things up a bit, like having it on a Sunday afternoon so there wouldn't be the usual 2 am lurching off to bed (which worked really well, BTW -- I highly recommend it) and I cut back on buying too much stuff, so I didn't freak about money being tight. And the best thing we did was ask everyone to bring a can of food for The Alameda Food Bank, justifying the inedible dishes.

Surprisingly, a lot of them weren't inedible -- in fact, everything was incredible! Everyone really stepped up and created just the most fantastic dishes. (And I think everyone really enjoyed participating, which is a good rule of thumb for an affair to remember.)

Lots of baked goods:

And some presented with fire and aplomb:

And lots of other tasty treats, including the prize winning viking boat and "raped potatoes":

(For more pics, click here: extravaganza pics and videos: live action footage!)

Not only is serving your guests delectable treats like flaming cakes and "raped potatoes" a recipe for a successful soiree, but you want it to swing, too. This is what we played, and it is hailed as the best holiday record anyone's heard for a long time:

get yours now in time for next yule! HARK!

And of course, even being an afternoon party with everyone stuffing themselves with holiday goodness and spiked cider, there was still a dance party. Always a successful end to a good night, and a surefire way to work off calories consumed earlier.

And the dance floor was packed about half an hour later!

So all in all, it was a very successful house party. In fact, all through Christmas I heard that our party was the best of the season, which makes me very pleased, because I know there's stiff competition out there. But it really was fun, and we can't wait to do it again.

One thing, though. The book, 97 Things To Do Before You Finish High School, has guidelines on how to be party smart and I will summarize for you:

1. "Remove all breakables" (If I removed all breakables, there would be nothing to eat from, and nothing for people to comment about and say, "Um, that's weird!")
2. "NO alcohol" (OMG, I can't even begin to fathom that. But instead of NO alcohol, follow the "be sure you have non-alcoholic beverages on hand," or better yet, the best acronym ever -- BYOB.)
3. "Do not post invitation online" (I posted this party EVERYWHERE. The more the merrier, and we had 60 people!)
4. "Tell immediate neighbors" (I do believe this is a good thing to do, but since it was a day party, we didn't bother. And our next door neighbors hate us anyway, so we don't care.)
5. "Have trashcans, paper towels, TP and carpet cleaner close at hand" (Pfft. Yeah, right. Our kitchen pretty much becomes one giant trashcan, and that's just how it goes.)

So as you can see, we broke EVERY SINGLE ONE of these party smart (party boring!) rules. Then again, we are not teenagers whose parents are in the Poconos for a week, so we don't really have to. Thank God.

Holly Golightly, eat your heart out.

Twenty-three down, 74 to go.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-02T18:53:00.000-08:00

I hope that all of you have had a happy new year so far! Whoo hoo, 2009!

I must admit, I think resolutions are kind of bunk. I mean, you stay up until at least midnight on Dec. 31st, and suddenly, a few hours of champagne-fueled sleep later, you're supposed to be a new person with a whole new lease on life, just because it's January 1st? Bah. Forget it.

But... I did make a few resolutions, of course, most of which will be long forgotten by January 17th. Some of them are things that I absolutely must do, like get new contact lenses and recycle cans. And then try to get more kultchur, by going to more museums and read better books and edu-macate myself. (I make that resolution every year. And yet... I still use terms like "edu-macate" and sound and act like a fourteen-year-old spaz.)

And, of course, to go on a diet so I can look like this:

I can't help it. Neither can this girl.

But considering I gained four pounds the week before Christmas and have been eating like there's been a trough in front of me since then, that resolution was out the window yesterday afternoon by 4.

One resolution I will hold myself to is updating this blog weekly, at least. I have a whole stash of Accomplishments to mark off my list and tell you about.

But in the meantime, please have a Happy New Year and please enjoy my absolute favorite thing from 2008:

Old this one never gets.

Addendum to previous post regarding buying books

2008-12-12T08:49:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I wrote that Op-Ed piece about buying books for the holiday season, because I was watching what was happening to the book industry. Well, I wasn't alone. I usually feel like I'm behind the times, but for once I was ahead of the curve:
from Publisher's Weekly:

Publishers, Authors Campaign for Books as Gifts
-- Publishers Weekly, 12/11/2008 2:05:00 PM

Most of the nation’s largest trade publishers have united behind a new online advertising campaign aimed at getting customers to buy books in physical stores and in online retailers. BooksAreGreatGifts.com features a video produced by Random House that features authors from a variety of houses explaining why books make great holiday presents. In addition to the BooksAreGreatGifts site, which includes the video and links to publishers’s sites, retailers are promoting the video and it is also being distributed to MSN and Yahoo. The AAP hopes to add other authors over the course of 2009 to promote book gift-giving year-round.

In a separate effort, the Authors Guild has sent a message from Guild president Roy Blount, Jr. to its members urging them and their friends to organize book-buying splurges at their local bookstores. Noting that a serious dip in holiday sales could be devastating to bookstores, Blount suggests that customers make the rest of their holiday purchases books. Readers could also stock up on books to give as gifts later in the year, Blount says. “There will be birthdays in the next twelve months; books keep well; they're easy to wrap: buy those books now. Buy replacements for any books looking raggedy on your shelves.Stockpile children's books as gifts for friends who look like they may eventually give birth. Hold off on the flat-screen TV and the GPS (they'll be cheaper after Christmas) and buy many, many books,” Blount urges.

So my little op-ed piece -- I'm in good company with Roy Blount, Jr. Not bad! If that's not an Accomplishment, I don't know what is.

Here's the original post:
BUY BOOKS!

Accomplishment #22: Build a Bonfire (#94)

2008-11-29T21:58:00.000-08:00

Okay. Um... I probably don't need to really tell you this, but I'm not exactly the Burning Man type of girl. Sure, lots of people are totally into it, and come from all over the world to burn the man, and that's great. But me? Nah. I'm not one for mud and grit. Or fire. Or camping. (So Accomplishment #46, Take a Camping Trip, is gonna be Real Fun for me.) Or seeing naked people on acid hugging one another. (Okay, sorry. That's Woodstock. I don't lament missing that, either.) So... this Accomplishment, I admit, I totally wussed out on. Now, if I were a true Accomplisher, I'd actually go to Burning Man and do it up 100%, but I don't think so. I'd be the one who'd die of dehydration or lose my teeth or something like that. I love you, Blog, but not enough to risk my life or teeth for you.

The book (97 Things...) tells you to experience a bonfire at least once in your teen life. I guess I did -- I went to the big campfire on the last night of junior high church camp, where all the girls loaded up on so much Kissing Potion their lips were cherry flavored reflectors as everyone sang Kum Ba Ya and felt, like, totally holy and sad because it was the last night we'd ever be together. Ever. But while I might have sung and exchanged addresses with bunkmates I'd never see again, I didn't have anything to do with building a bonfire. So I'm not sure if that counts. And I think I went to one at the beach and sat there, alone and miserable, while my friend Tammy made out with some guy. But then again, that could have been pretty much anywhere I ever went with my friend Tammy, so I'm not sure if a bonfire was even a setting. (I do know that happened on the bus a few times. Ugh.)

When I think of bonfires, I think of two things, other than Burning Man. (Or Guy Fawkes Day. Now, if I were a wealthy Accomplisher, I would have flown to England on November 5th to partake. I am a very poor Accomplisher, so therefore, I didn't.) One is the scene in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, where there's the Nazi's big book burning bonfire and Hitler signs Indiana Jones' dad's Holy Grail book.

Yes, that scene is AWESOME.

And secondly, the scene from the Great Movie Grease where it's the football game and Sandy's the cheerleader and Rizzo and the Pink Ladies push her into Danny Zuko and he acts all cool and... Whatever, here's the clip:

(With the fabulous slumber party scene for your added enjoyment!)

Our high school football games didn't have bonfires. I don't think, anyway. My friends and I didn't have what you'd exactly call school spirit, and since the jocks were the ones who were mean to us, we didn't exactly feel terribly supportive of their endeavors. But I went to some games my freshman year, and then sophomore year, my friend Andrea and I took Marching Band to get out of P.E. so we had to go. We couldn't even play instruments, and yet they let us in, and we were constantly in trouble. But the humiliation of wearing our polyester band uniforms in public was better than the humiliation of athletic excursion and ineptitude, even when a kid barfed all down my back at a game and we were asked not to come back in the spring. That one semester of band took care of all our PE requirements for the rest of high school, so yeah, it was definitely worth it. And you couldn't recognize us in the yearbook photo, so, well, you would never have known we were band geeks if I hadn't just confessed.

Anyhow, this past Thanksgiving we went to my sister's house in Sonoma. She and her husband live in a magical adobe house and they have miniature DONKEYS.

This has nothing to do with the bonfire. I just love this donkey.

And as an added bonus to the BBQed turkey and donkeys, there would be a bonfire. "Terrific!" I thought. "It's part of my blog!" The book even says that it's all part of spiritual yaddie yaddie (obviously my words there), and a way to celebrate holidays for many cultures. So what better way to celebrate Thanksgiving than with overindulging on food and flames? It was what the book said to do. An Accomplishment in a snap!

So we went to my sister's house, where I ate too much shrimp dip and turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and cake and wished that pants with elastic waistbands were more fashionable.

And yes, indeed there was a bonfire:

Come on, baby...

Except all I did was look at it for a few minutes, and then told the kids that they couldn't eat marshmallows because they'd already eaten a bunch of them and cake and they'd be bouncing off the walls and so I was the total killjoy and, well, that was about it. I didn't even throw a stick on there.

But I actually sat next to a bona fide bonfire. And being that this is not an every day occurrence (in my city, you don't really want to see a bonfire, trust me -- it would mean there something going on) I feel that this is a Bona Fide Accomplishment.

And I found that I am more of a hanging with the donkeys type of girl anyway, so that counts for something.

The Donkey Whisperer

Twenty-two down, 75 to go.

I have been remiss...

2008-11-23T20:49:00.000-08:00

... in posting lately, and I do apologize. But I swear, it's because I have been Accomplishing things! Who knew that Accomplishing things could take up so much time? I'm looking forward to having some time to simply hunker down and post some entries, and I promise, it will be soon.

In the meantime, I want to thank everybody for their support for my reading -- it was fun! The turnout was fantastic (thanks to everyone who came!), and I appreciated the applause. In the end I wrote about how Facebook is really the online equivalent of junior high school. (You can call it "networking" all you want, but let's face it -- there is NO WAY I'd ever get a job from my facebook page. But you CAN subscribe to this blog via facebook! I heart modern technology!) A lot of people could relate to it, but one girl came up to me and said, "I will NEVER join facebook, but you have rockstar hair!" And then yesterday, when I was at Top Dog buying a bratwurst while in a grubby sweatshirt and *gasp* no tiara, a woman said, "Hey! I saw you read at Mixing Bowl last week!" Yes folks, I am famous. I can no longer go to places like Top Dog without being recognized. I will be going to The Ivy and 21 from here on out.

Should you want to recognize me as well, this is me reading and looking very serious indeed:

photo by Ken Duffy

And on a different note, tis the season for the next Mid Century Potluck -- the MID CENTURY SUPPER CLUB WINTER WONDERLAND HOLIDAY POTLUCK that is.

If you're in the bay area and you've always wanted to accomplish creating a dish featuring canned meat and aspic, be our guest!

Okay, must go finish all those pesky Accomplishments now. I promise, more updates soon!

Accomplishment #21: WriteYour Own Op-Ed Piece (#72)

2008-11-11T13:20:00.000-08:00

[Okay, the book says if you have an opinion, write an Op-Ed and send it in to your local newspaper, and if it doesn't get published to post it on your blog. I DO have a strong opinion about something (big surprise), but I am skipping the whole rejection part, and just posting it to my blog. It still counts, right? Since I am the queen of 97land, I think it does.]

AN OPEN LETTER TO HOLIDAY SHOPPERS: PLEASE BUY BOOKS.

Because I work in publishing, I get daily emails and updates about how the economy is wreaking havoc on the book and publishing industries. Even before all of this recent economic turmoil happened, more and more independent bookstores were going out of business, eaten up by the bigger chains and inability to discount their books to compete, and rents skyrocketing to the point that more and more bookstores had to shut their brick and mortar establishments. And I am not talking about little, tiny, out of the way bookstores that someone opened recently on a whim; I am talking about well established stores that had been in business for decades. I actually cried when I found out that my favorite travel bookstore, Candida's in Washington DC, shut down, as did the giant Olsson's. And those are just two examples.

Now experts are saying that this is going to be a bad retail season, which drives fear into everyone's hearts. This is the season that keeps most retail businesses afloat, and without good sales, we could see a very ugly period ahead. And hit hard is going to be the book business. It used to be said that the book industry was nearly recession proof, as people still would buy books because they were inexpensive, enjoyable, and accessible, but now I'm not so sure. With the internet and the economy, things aren't looking so good.

I would like to encourage you, should you be buying gifts this year, to please buy BOOKS for everyone on your list this holiday season. A few months ago I would have said to please buy from your local independent, and I still believe that is the first choice to exercise whenever possible (if there is even a local independent near you anymore -- I'm still worried they are going the way of the DoDo and ultimately the polar bear, which makes me cry and we need to change the subject), but buy them from any bookstore. Everyone's hurting.

And do I really need to tell you that books make great gifts? Come on... But I will anyway:

~ Books are relatively inexpensive. These days they cost the same or less than a two hour movie, yet they last much, much longer, and can be read again and again. They are a bargain.

~ Books become your friends. If you are sad or worried, a book can cheer you up with a good plot or good advice. They can make you laugh out loud, or tell you a story that will make you cry. They can inspire you to go and do Great Things. (Or Accomplish a bunch of stuff you never did in High School.) And they will NEVER flake on you or cheat on you, and will be there for you as long as you keep them on your shelves. (Though some WILL tell you not to eat that second helping of ice cream. The Health & Diet genre can be a bit cruel and pushy sometimes.)

~ Books are treasures. There is something about a book that has been given to someone that makes it magical, especially when the giver has inscribed it. I still have most of the books my father gave to me when I was little, and while the author's printed pages are precious, my father's handwriting is absolutely priceless.

~ Sharing a book you love with someone has the ability to shape someone's life. My sister, though she didn't inscribe it, gave me a copy of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers in 9th grade, because it was one of her favorites. It became one of mine, too. And my other sister gave me a collection of John Steinbeck in 9th grade also because she loved him, and again, so do I. Passionately. (And have been thinking a lot about The Grapes of Wrath lately. Time to revisit it.)

~ There are so many to choose from. Even if the people you're shopping for aren't readers, there is a book in the store that they will love. Whether it's a coffee table book full of pictures, a graphic novel, a how to, or a travel guide for somewhere they might go or have been... Trust me. It's in the bookstore.

~ One stop shopping! The best gift you can give yourself that pays off for everyone is lack of stress. What better way to combat it than get all your shopping done in a nice, clean well lighted place that's not the mall or Wal-Mart? Just thinking about that upped my blood pressure. Ugh.

~ Books are a good and cheap and diverse education. I don't know about you, but I'm too broke to go back to school. The next best thing? Books. And books about EVERYTHING. you can virtually teach yourself anything. Sure, you can Google it, but you can't use a HIGHLIGHTER.

~ They are the easiest thing to wrap. Take it from me, the world's worst wrapper. My presents look like they were wrapped by a four-year-old. One time I went to a baby shower and the guests actually laughed at my crappy wrap job. But books? I am a PRO. In my bookstore tenure, I must have wrapped thousands of books. And it wasn't practice that made it perfect -- it was the clean, even lines. Not a lot of tape, and no need for a gift bag, God's answer for the Gift-Wrapped Challenged.

~ Sustainability. I know, it's hip to be green, and how green are books that trees have to die for? Well, a lot of books are now printed on recycled paper, and they do last a long time. Even when you're done with it, you can pass it along. Plus there's that Kindle, which I don't prefer but it's a fact. And like I said before -- easy to gift wrap so no gift bag and wasteful decorative tissue.

~ Books smell good. Seriously. New book smell is heavenly. One of my favorite things to do is walk into a new bookstore and get happily pummeled by that scent. I even like the smell of old books and their musty history, but then again, I'm weird.

~ Reading a printed page is way better than scrolling down on a computer screen. I have never heard about any reported cases of anyone getting carpal tunnel by reading a book. Sure, maybe your butt will fall asleep and you may get a papercut, but it's not like clicking a mouse, which can result in physical therapy or some fancy and expensive aerodynamic or whatever keyboard that doesn't really work anyway.

~ What my Favorite tee shirt says is true:

'Nuff said. Available here: buyolympia

~ Buying books helps the good people of the book industry. Okay, I was an English major in college, so I've never made the big bucks. And with the exception of maybe Danielle Steele and John Grisham and Stephen King and other blockbuster exceptions, people in the book industry -- no matter what side of the counter they're on -- gets paid much money. Writing, producing, editing, marketing, publicizing and selling books is really hard. Trust me. We're all underpaid, but it's a labor of love.

~ Books are Community Organizers. You think I'm joking? you may laugh at Oprah's book club (though I don't know why you would or should), but that's only one of them out there. Social circles are formed around books, as are movements. And there are a lot of towns out there who rely on their libraries and bookstores for events, education, and jobs. Ahem. Communities.

~ Speaking of Community Organizers... Our new president is a writer and reader, and this is one way he leads by example. Shouldn't we up the ante a bit and follow suit? It would be amazing to shed the dumb American stereotype. And what better way to do it than READ BOOKS.

Okay, I could go on, but that's plenty to get you started. Ask is anyone you know has a Wish List, Amazon or otherwise. Pay attention to what they're talking about -- I'm sure a book on that topic is out there. Ask your bookseller for ideas -- they may not get paid a lot, but they have some good suggestions. And think about what you've read and loved that you could give to someone to enrich their lives. And very important: BE VERY VOCAL AND TELL EVERYONE WHAT BOOKS YOU WANT, TOO. Sure, sure, it's better to give than to receive and all that BS, but make sure you're covered, too.

And may I suggest this little gem?

the book that started this blog.

Thank you for reading.

Twenty one down, 76 to go.

Accomplished!

2008-11-10T23:06:00.001-08:00

The piece for Wednesday night has been written, thanks to channeling my muse:

The fabulously Pucci-clad Jackie Susann.

So if you're in Oakland on Wednesday night, come on down to The Mixing Bowl!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

HELLO BAY AREA!

This month we're mixing things up a bit with some delicious prose.

November's writers are electric with humor, grace and pizzazz – just what you'll
need to heat up these chilly autumn nights!

So, please come out and support these talented writers (and have a bowl of yummy
soup or a steaming cup of tea while you're at it!)
Your Host,

Anh-Hoa Thi Nguyen

THE MIXING BOWL
LITERARY READING SERIES
The Word is Out: Oakland's Emerging Writers Mix it Up!

"The Word is Out: Oakland's Emerging Writers Mix it Up!" – a literary reading series
featuring some of Oakland's most talented emerging writers. A mixture of poetry
and prose, this series includes a range of writers from Oakland's diverse artist
communities and Bay Area Creative Writing programs. Come mix it up at The Mixing
Bowl Cafe and experience great food and contemporary works from Mills College, California
College of Art (CCA), Stanford University's Stegner Program, Deep Oakland, Voices
of Our Nations (VONA) and more.

EVENT HIGHLIGHTS

WHEN: 2nd Wednesdays of the Month

TIME: 7 PM

WHERE: The Mixing Bowl Cafe,
4920 Telegraph Avenue, Oakland, CA 94609

READERS: Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Melanie Hilario is a freelance writer, editor, and writing coach. Constantly on
multiple projects at once, she feels sort of like the Samuel L. Jackson of the writing
world. Mel loves her dog Gogo, kung fu, grammar, and the city of Oakland. Her novel
misses her terribly, but they have frequent one-night stands in between jobs.

Diana Ipis completing her first collection of stories and starting a novel based
on a short story. She is a graduate of the Mills MFA program and has attended residencies
and workshops at Hedgebrook, Blue Mountain Center and Voices of Our Nation Arts
(VONA). She was the recipient of an Elizabeth George Foundation grant in 2008. She
published her first story "Drunken Chicken" in Hyphen Magazine this spring.

Karen Finlay(not to be confused with the performance artist who spells her name
with an "EY") received her MFA in Creative Writing from Mills College,
where she wrote serious, hard-hitting pieces about buying Go-Go's records and
getting her period for the first time. Since then, her work has been seen in many
emails, myspace comments, and on her blog, 97thingstodobeforeiturn97.blogspot.com. She
has also aired some dirty laundry as part of The Rebel Reading Series and has been
featured on dublit.com. A Gemini who loves pina coladas and hates getting caught
in the rain, she has a deep love/hate relationship with The Twilight series by Stephenie
Meyer.

Cleavon Smith, a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and the Mills College Creative
Writing MFA Program was born and raised in Mississippi and moved to the Bay Area
while still serving as an officer in the U.S. Navy. Cleavon has been a National
Endowment of the Humanities Fellow and his prose and poetry has been published in
the "Potomac Review," "The Best Gay Asian Erotica," and "Nine Lives," a collection
of essays about the lives of Bay Area elders in facilitated care. He lives in Oakland
with his fiancée and their cat Cedric and teaches in the English Department at Berkeley
City College.

If you're in the Bay Area, I'm doing a reading...

2008-11-08T16:33:00.000-08:00

Hi,

Just wanted to let you know that I'm doing a reading on Wednesday, Nov. 12th at 7 pm, in Oakland, CA.

There's just ONE teeny little problem.

I have NO IDEA what to read. To write about, actually. I am having Writer's Block like all git out. I've been so involved in the election that I've put it off, and now I'm, um, up that creek without a paddle. I know it will be memoir (as it always is), but I don't know what the THEME will be. Ugh.

If anyone can come up with a good topic that I can use, I will send you a present.

And if you come, I will give you big hugs and my undying gratitude.

****************************************

HELLO BAY AREA!

This month we’re mixing things up a bit with some delicious prose.

November’s writers are electric with humor, grace and pizzazz – just what you’ll
need to heat up these chilly autumn nights!

So, please come out and support these talented writers (and have a bowl of yummy
soup or a steaming cup of tea while you’re at it!)
Your Host,

Anh-Hoa Thi Nguyen

THE MIXING BOWL
LITERARY READING SERIES
The Word is Out: Oakland’s Emerging Writers Mix it Up!

“The Word is Out: Oakland’s Emerging Writers Mix it Up!” – a literary reading series
featuring some of Oakland’s most talented emerging writers. A mixture of poetry
and prose, this series includes a range of writers from Oakland’s diverse artist
communities and Bay Area Creative Writing programs. Come mix it up at The Mixing
Bowl Cafe and experience great food and contemporary works from Mills College, California
College of Art (CCA), Stanford University’s Stegner Program, Deep Oakland, Voices
of Our Nations (VONA) and more.

EVENT HIGHLIGHTS

WHEN: 2nd Wednesdays of the Month

TIME: 7 PM

WHERE: The Mixing Bowl Cafe,
4920 Telegraph Avenue, Oakland, CA 94609

READERS: Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Melanie Hilario is a freelance writer, editor, and writing coach. Constantly on
multiple projects at once, she feels sort of like the Samuel L. Jackson of the writing
world. Mel loves her dog Gogo, kung fu, grammar, and the city of Oakland. Her novel
misses her terribly, but they have frequent one-night stands in between jobs.

Diana Ipis completing her first collection of stories and starting a novel based
on a short story. She is a graduate of the Mills MFA program and has attended residencies
and workshops at Hedgebrook, Blue Mountain Center and Voices of Our Nation Arts
(VONA). She was the recipient of an Elizabeth George Foundation grant in 2008. She
published her first story "Drunken Chicken" in Hyphen Magazine this spring.

Karen Finlay(not to be confused with the performance artist who spells her name
with an "EY") received her MFA in Creative Writing from Mills College,
where she wrote serious, hard-hitting pieces about buying Go-Go's records and
getting her period for the first time. Since then, her work has been seen in many
emails, myspace comments, and on her blog, 97thingstodobeforeiturn97.blogspot.com. She
has also aired some dirty laundry as part of The Rebel Reading Series and has been
featured on dublit.com. A Gemini who loves pina coladas and hates getting caught
in the rain, she has a deep love/hate relationship with The Twilight series by Stephenie
Meyer.

Cleavon Smith, a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and the Mills College Creative
Writing MFA Program was born and raised in Mississippi and moved to the Bay Area
while still serving as an officer in the U.S. Navy. Cleavon has been a National
Endowment of the Humanities Fellow and his prose and poetry has been published in
the “Potomac Review,” “The Best Gay Asian Erotica,” and “Nine Lives,” a collection
of essays about the lives of Bay Area elders in facilitated care. He lives in Oakland
with his fiancée and their cat Cedric and teaches in the English Department at Berkeley
City College.

UPCOMING READERS:

December 10, 2008
Prose
Grace Loh
Ly Nguyen
SianJones
Caroline Kim Brown

Contact: Armando Koghan at 510-655-5630 (The Mixing Bowl) or Anh-Hoa Thi Nguyen
at poetesshoa@yahoo.com

A BIG, FAT, HUGE, COLOSSAL ACCOMPLISHMENT

2008-11-04T22:28:00.000-08:00

Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States of America.

I am so proud of my candidate and country right now.

And I'm so cried out that I have no more words, just feelings of pure elation.

Yes we can... and yes, we did.