Public Service Announcement

I'm sitting inside my nice air-conditioned house, browsing my daily blogs, listening to the new Britney Spears single online (out of curiosity only, I assure you), and sipping on a fresh fruit smoothie. Meanwhile outside in my hotter-than-hades garage......a very nice and bearded older gentleman named Gerry is sweating up a storm sucking 100 pounds of lint and dust out of my dryer and dryer vents with his giant shop vac. (I would take pictures to post, but I'm too shy to ask him if I can take his photo for my little blog.) I had no idea what a big job it is to have your dryer cleaned. So after he'd been at it for about 15 minutes and thinking surely he must be nearly finished, I went out to ask how things were going. He replied, "Well, I only just got started...." (Uh oh. I immediately felt shamed and dirty, dirty, dirty.) He was in the process of reattaching the front panel of the dryer itself, having just finished vacuuming out all the interior mechanisms. And guess what? There'd been a little fire inside the dark inner recesses of my dryer! "Just a little one," Gerry assured me. But not a good sign. See, that's what these dryer fires are all about--the lint accumulates, gets really hot, ignites, and then if the conditions are dry enough and it gets enough oxygen, all the built-up lint in the unit and in your vents bursts into flame. And then you and all your belongings are crispy critters! Ok, maybe not, but it can be bad. Very, very bad. Not to mention expensive. The Consumer Product Safety Commission estimates that there are 24,000 lint-related dryer fires in the United States each year, resulting in $96,000,000 in property damages. So considering this dryer is 10 years old and I've never had it serviced before, I'll gladly learn from this close call and be grateful that's all it was. So my PSA for today: Call someone to come clean out your dryer vents! Gerry said it should be done once every 5 years. I used Machado Environmental, in case you're interested. They were very nice and professional, called last night to confirm my appointment time, Gerry arrived 5 minutes early, spent a solid hour working, didn't leave a mess, replaced two duct clamps that had corroded, and it all cost $120. Well worth it, I assure you. Oh, and as he left, he asked if I'd be "willing to read about common sense living." Thinking it was a little booklet on household safety precautions, I replied with a hearty "Sure!" After he'd pulled out of the driveway I looked at the flap, and it's a Scientology book called "The Way to Happiness." Oy.

Thursday Morning Meltdown

Latimes.com headline: Big-rig Crash Slows 210 in Pasadena "Slows"? Slows?!?!?!?!?!! It took me 2 and a half hours to get to work this morning. And it's a 19-mile commute. 19 miles!!! Thats 7.6 miles per hour, in case you were curious. And for, oh, I'd say about 18 of those miles I had to go to the bathroom. And had cramps with no Advil anywhere within the confines of the car.

Needless to say, I'm in a bad mood.

And my hatred for big-rig trucks has deepened considerably.

The Comet

When it comes, after all the waiting in
darkness over many days, over years and
centuries, all who saw it last will be gone,
as all who see it now will be.

When it dips and its tail flares a million
miles of light, ask yourself how much pain
is worth it, because when this comes again
you will be nothing. Nothing you know
will exist, nothing you felt, no one you
touched.

When you see this streak blurred like a
spotlight in clouds against black infinity,
hesitate, then pick up your guns and go on,
but never blame this moment for what
might have been. What might have been is
always at hand a crucial second before
passing, in reach long enough to change the
course.

There's nothing romantic about love.
Romantic is a description of ways in which
we treat one another, but love is the equal
of death and life--everything ends and
everything starts at its touch.

--George Evans

Office Pet Peeve #982

When a coworker enters your office to deliver a piece of mail, document, fax, requested item, [fill in blank of inconsequential office work-related item here], etc. and while you are busily typing up a storm or talking on the phone or picking at your cuticles or whatever they stand there holding said item out to you--their hand literally hovering over your tray clearly marked INBOX--and wait for you to stop what you're doing to physically reach out and take it from them and drop it into your own inbox. Grrr, arg.

Movie Review: Miss Potter

There are times of the year when I get more than my money's worth on my Netflix subscription. But most of the time I'm pretty sure I end up spending $10 or so per dvd because I let them gather dust for weeks and weeks without watching or returning any. I try not to think about it too hard, because I love the convenience of Netflix, "shopping" for movies, making lists (I love lists!), and frankly I just don't want to admit that it might not be all that cost effective. For the last, I don't know, five weeks or so I've had the same three movies stacked on top of the player, waiting to be viewed (just did the math: that's $7.08 per dvd--ack!), and yesterday I blew the dust off one of them and sat down to watch.

Miss Potter is based on the life story of Beatrix Potter, the British author of The Tales of Peter Rabbit and many other beloved children's classics. It stars Renee Zellweger as Beatrix and Ewan McGregor as her publisher and mustachioed love of a lifetime, Norman. Honestly, I don't have a whole lot to say about the movie itself. It was pretty run of the mill British period drama, kinda slow paced and a little dull at times. But fans of her illustrations might like the bits of animation sprinkled throughout the film, although I personally found them to be awkward and inconsistent. They also served to highlight something that grated on me the whole movie: Either Renee Zellweger failed completely at capturing "endearingly quirky" in her portrayal, or Beatrix Potter was across the board cuh-razy. She kept telling everyone that her drawings were "real," called them "my friends," talked to them, scolded them for being cheeky, etc. I think the intention was to be cute, but instead it was disturbing and creepy. And the way Renee played it, I wondered if the movie was going to end with her being commited to an asylum. (Or a "sanitarium," as I suppose they would have called it back then. In case you're interested, that doesn't happen--despite one highly-justifiable bout of depression.) So I felt pretty blah about the story, script, and all that. However, I do have some things to rant about.....

One, that promotional poster? It has to be doctored, because Renee Zellweger's eyes are like half that size. And throughout the whole first half of this movie they're more like one-fourth that size, because she keeps her face screwed up into a prissy, tight, painfully pursed expression nonstop. I think it's in Breakfast of Champions that Kurt Vonnegut draws an illustration of what he thinks an anus looks like (sorry, I know this is too crude for some of you, so forgive me), and it looked something like this: That's what Renee's face looked like for a good full hour. In fact, this illustration was just about all I could think of whenever I looked at her because, kids, her mouth looked exactly like that. I mean it.

The second half of the movie she looked like Frumpy McFrumperton, a la Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (remember how bad she looked in that???): This photo has to be doctored, too, because she doesn't look all that bad. But I'm telling you, in the film the girl looked broke down. Hair all akimbo, complexion rough, skin red and splotchy like a spanked behind..... Was their budget so low that they couldn't afford hair and makeup people? She's a beautiful girl and quite capable of looking radiant and lovely. Why, then, does she so frequently appear in movies looking like a boiled chicken? I truly don't get it.

Let's see....what else bugged me......? That's all I can think of at the moment, but I'll post a revision should anything come to mind......

All Spruced Up

Being ten years old, it was time for our townhome complex to receive a fresh coat of paint! BEFORE: Dated color scheme, water-stained stucco, faded greenish-teal trim. AFTER: Hello, lovely.

Grandma and The King

Thirty years ago today, Elvis Presley shook his markedly unholy pelvis right on through the pearly gates. It's also the third anniversary of my maternal grandma Leona's passing, but I never realized until today that they had the date in common. As I was driving in to work this morning listening to the radio djs reminisce about The King, I imagined him there in heaven sharing a porch swing with my fine, strong, midwestern grandma, winning her over with some good old gospel tunes. And I had to smile. (Photo credited to the AP)

Misty Water-Colored Memories

One year ago today, my sweetheart led me on a hike up into Griffith Park, settled me on a cozy bench overlooking the valley, and asked me to marry him. Awh! And I said yes, of course. The best decision I've ever made. I love you, Bug.

We Heart Audrey

Someone may want to issue a preemptive Amber Alert, because there is a certain 1-year-old child who is in jeopardy of being kidnapped. (By me. Don't worry, I'd take very good care of her.) Matt and I are officially besmitten by one Miss Audrey Faith, whose first birthday we were honored to celebrate with her on Saturday. Not only is this little girl cute as can be, but she is one smart cookie. As her aunt Kelly says, "Audrey is nobody's fool." Truer words were never spoken. When she started getting a little tired of being in the center of things during present-opening time, I was lucky enough to get some quality lap time with her. First we cuddled and rocked for a few minutes while she recharged her emotional batteries, and then Audrey was ready to move on to playing with one of her new toys. This led to the perfect opportunity for her to exhibit one of my all-time favorite Audrey-isms: The Scowl. (Kelly and B, if one of you could get a picture of The Scowl, I would pay good money for it.) You see, Audrey is much too emotionally mature for crying and fussing when she doesn't get something she wants. No, no. Instead she gives you The Scowl until you whither under her gaze and bow to her every whim and desire. Seriously, it works like a charm. (At least on me. I think it's ok to give her whatever she wants as long as you're not her parent, right?) Here's how it played out. She was on my lap, happily poking at the eyeballs and antennae of her new caterpillar toy when she realized it would be a lot more fun if said caterpillar wasn't still restrained by its packaging. So she turned and looked up at me with The Scowl, which I correctly read as her saying, "Hey, Pudding-for Brains. How's about, you know, removing this thing from the box? Since, after all, someone intended to gift me with the toy and not this ridiculous and pedestrian cardboard container. Geez!" Matt got right on it, and Audrey turned her gaze on him as he grappled with the many (many, many) twisty ties restraining the poor plastic insect. When it was finally freed, she looked up at us and beamed, all irritation erased, as if to say, "Hey, guys, look! Isn't this great?" And we melted a little inside. Happy birthday, sweet girl. We look forward to sharing many more birthdays with you! (I was way too busy enjoying myself to take photos of my own, so credit for these goes to Kelly. To see more pics from the party, look here.)

Oh, Pig

Photo Challenge '07

Until I have some chilluns of my own, I'll have to be content messing around with photos of all the other kids in my life. (You know who you are, ya little squirts. Cute as buttons, every last one of you!) Knowing how much I'm enjoying learning how to use Photoshop and finding herself with a couple of recent photos that needed tweaking, Carol tasked me with a project. Fun! My assignment, if I chose to accept it, was to erase some unsightly and distracting elements from two otherwise delightful photos. The first one was easy: Get rid of that ugly eave. See him there at the top? He needed to go. So long! (I also brightened up E and her grandparents, since they were looking a little murky.) The next one posed a more interesting challenge, since it involved erasing a pole over a varied and textured background. It took some doing, but now you see it... ...and now you don't. And while I was at it, I got rid of those distracting little tufts of pine needles in the upper right corner, erased some little boo-boos on E's arm, and adjusted the color levels. Have another challenge for me, anyone? Bring it on.

Yes, Virginia, There Was a Honeymoon

We finally finished our honeymoon photo album. Click here to view it online, or come visit us and we'll show it to you in person. And we'll probably feed you treats, too.

Sock It To Me

Everyone stay calm--we do not have any "news" to share, there are no McCormick babies on the way, and there's no reason at all to read anything into this. But if I were having a baby (which, for the sake of clarity, let me say again I am NOT), I would be willing to go without groceries for a month, air conditioning for the summer, and possibly even sell our beloved Wii in order to afford this insanely expensive nursery bedding from PoshTots.