Welcome to the Caribbean, Love

It's more than a little ridiculous, really. Normally, I'm fine living two states away from almost all of my family. I'm OK talking to my mom on the phone once or twice a week and participating in e-mail volleys. My auntie provides the familial affection that I need here in L.A. and life is peachy.

Except for the last three days. I've been having pangs of homesickness. The urge to sit with my mummy on the couch, a cat in each of our laps, drinking margaritas, and watching mindless movies. Preferably Tomb Raider or something similar. I want to eat at the Pizzeria in Ogden and get a hug from my daddy. I need to set Grandmother's dinner table and sit around it with my clan. I even want to walk to see the horses that my mom loves so much.

So, you're thinking, suck it up and dial the damn phone! Send one of those e-mails. It only takes 30 seconds! What the hell's wrong with you?!

My parents are in Jamaica until Saturday. Damn it. I'm heartily in favor of them having some fun and spending a week in the sunny tropics, but wouldn't you know it that as soon as they board the plane their sappy daughter would go all sentimental.

How soon is Saturday?

Sigh. I need a hug.

Monday Quote

"He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."

- Remus Lupin in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Friday Quotes!

Since I have Monday off and will be lazing about by the pool and drinking greyhounds, I'll post Monday's Quote today. And since it's a holiday weekend (and because I'm bored), I'll post a few.

"Boss, do we have to take all fifteen?"
"Yes! It's not nice to separate them from their friends!"
- Porco Rosso

"We could have a staff field trip to Shenandoah! I could be the guide. What do you think?"
"Good a place as any to dump your body."
"What was that?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
- The West Wing, "Enemies"

"The word is Lunchables. America should be patriotically divided into sanitary compartments of like-minded citizens."
- Stephen Colbert

"'Spells, changings, apparitions? It's all entertainment,' said Elphaba. 'It's thatre.'"
- Wicked

"I win. You lose. Twas ever thus."
- The West Wing, "The U.S. Poet Laureate"

Happy Memorial Day!

Huzzah!

Go Taylor!

If Chris Daughtry couldn't win American Idol, at least it was Taylor. I have to admit, he kind of freaked me out at first, but he really grew on me and I was pleased as punch to vote for him on Tuesday night. (Staying up way past my bedtime to do so...)

I am now free from the vile clutches of the evil AI monster. I was sucked in, but no more! As of ten o'clock last night, the bond was broken and I have escaped. We kept seeing commercials for "So You Think You Can Dance" and my aunty asked if I was going to watch it. I said, "No! And yet I can feel it luring me! Like a siren calling me to my death upon the rocks..." And the shot of that dude doing a face plant into the stage... I don't know if that's incentive or a warning.

What will I do on my Tuesday nights now, you ask? Well, they're airing back to back episodes of House re-runs all summer. That sounds pretty good. But look... they're dancing... Oh, God help me.

Monday Quote

"I cooked our tea, and when Holmes remarked merely that he hadn't thought it possible to make tinned beans taste undercooked, I took it that my cooking was improving."
- The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King

And a Happy Birthday to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!

A Hint of White Trash Summer

It's getting warm outside. It's supposed to be 82 degrees today. Therefore, I thought I'd share some of my childhood summer recipes with y'all. If they seem a little white trash, just know that we had more sophisticated stuff too, but these are the desserts that stuck in my mind.

Ice Cream Pie

This is tasty and very refreshing on a summer's day.

You take a quart of vanilla ice cream and let it soften. You mix it with a can of frozen lemonade. Pink, regular, whatever. You pour it into a pre-made graham cracker crust and stick it back in the freezer to congeal. Simple and tasty. Bonus.

Tin-Can Ice Cream

I should get the official recipe for this from my mom before I post it, but if anybody wants it, just drop me an e-mail. From this, you'll get the general idea.

You take a big coffee can and put a little coffee can inside of it. Into the little can goes cream (I believe), sugar, vanilla, and whatever flavoring you like. Mint and chocolate chips, if you're me. Into the big can goes ice and rock salt. Both lids go on and you con a couple of kids into sitting on the cement with towels to keep their hands from freezing and rolling it back and forth until you have ice cream. Good times.

And the most white trash of all...

Cool-Whip Fruit Dip

This one's a little embarassing, but tasty nonetheless.

Mix a tub of cool-whip with a container of your choice of yogurt. I like lemon or raspberry, myself. Then, you just dip fruit in it. Pineapple, apples, strawberries. Yummy. (I suppose this one's not embarassing if you don't have my cool-whip issues. I'm not sure it's actually food.)

So, there they are. The fruity, summery tastes of my youth.

Monday Quote

"W.W.L.D.?"
"What would Leo do?"
- The West Wing, "Tomorrow"

My Kind of Town

Perfect, really, after yesterday's post.

Which city do I belong in?

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock. A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything. No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

I could have told them that.

Rule, Britannia!

I am an Anglophile. Anything to do with England makes me a happy girl.

I didn't learn to like tea until I went to England and found out that milk and sugar make it taste infinitely better.

My favorite beer is British.

Most of my favorite books are set in England. Sherlock Holmes, Lord Peter Wimsey, Jane Eyre, Pride & Prejudice.

Kick-ass TV shows too. Little Britain, Blackadder, Mystery!

I was reading a Sherlock Holmes book today and thought that I need a club. Not a smack you over the head kind of club. (Although, that could be useful too.) No, I want a men's club. But for women, obviously. You know the beginning of Top Hat when Fred Astaire is waiting for... the guy whose name I can't remember and he's at the Thackery Club in London? "Absolute SILENCE!" I want somewhere I can go to read by a fireplace (since I lack one), have a cup of tea or a drink, and sit in peace. It sounds like heaven.

I've been to London three times and part of me feels happier there than anywhere else. Maybe it's the rain. Maybe it's the guy at the fish and chip place across from the Tower that calls you, "Luv." Maybe it's the Coke cans with Arabic on them. Maybe it's that they have buildings that are older than our country! Maybe it's the pigeons.

I've taken the water in Bath, marvelled at Stonehenge, purchased flowers in Covent Garden, seen the Royal Shakespeare Company perform The Tempest, strolled through the British Museum, eaten crap food and excellent pub food, had the best tuna sandwich of my life in Salisbury, a close second to that in Oxford, and (finally) visited Baker Street. I can never get enough.

Holmes may call it "the great cesspool," but I'll always love it dearly.

The Mama Bear Complex

Seeing as it's coming up on Mother's Day, I thought I'd share a couple of stories about the two women who have guided and protected me all my life. Since I can't hug them, I give them this instead.

We were driving to, I believe, Yellowstone many years ago and had stopped at a campground for lunch and a potty break. Grandmother was in the loo and I was waiting outside, holding her glasses. Just as she came out, a yellow jacket landed on my hand and stung my finger. I was about ten years old and promptly burst into tears at the unexpected pain. I've never seen a woman go Mama Bear faster than she did then. She flicked it off my hand and stomped it into the ground. It was no more than a smear on the cement by the time she was finished. She wrapped her arms around me and hurried me over to the ice chest. With some ice to take down the swelling and the sting, my tears slowly ceased and all was well again. I had been avenged.

She also makes the best gin and tonic this side of the Colorado River.

The only woman who protects me more fiercely than Grandmother is Mum. There was a day in elementary school (and you'll have to forgive me if I don't remember this perfectly) when I was waiting outside for her to pick me up. Being that it was winter in Utah, there was about an inch of ice covering the blacktop and there was a boy who was man-handling me in some way. Now, from what I hear, Mum saw this from afar and launched herself, heels and all, after this kid and hauled him up by his biceps and shook the bejeezus out of him. "How does it feel? Huh?" I imagine she was quite the sight to see.

As valiantly as they watch over me, they still knew when to let me go. Flattering, really. Oh, don't mistake me! They still keep an eye on me.

My dad was hoping my mom would have a girl because of the wonderful relationship all the women in this family have. We both got lucky. Happy Mother's Day, Possum! Happy Mother's Day, GM!

Happy Birthday, Puddin'!

It's my sweet Auntie's birthday today! She's 26! (Just kidding.) So here's a few of the many reasons why I love her...

She lured me out of Utah with the promise of a job, a place to live, and a link to my clan.

She lured me into her theatre company, which has been the most satisfying and rewarding experience of my life.

She makes fabulously tasty parmesan popcorn when we watch American Idol together. Go Chris!

She grills tasty, meaty goodness for Sunday Dinner.

She hauls my ass to and from work.

She introduced me to the Macaroni Grill.

She taught me to like The Darkness, Queen, The White Stripes, and any other number of rock bands that I may, or may not, have discovered without her assistance.

She makes me laugh on a daily basis.

She's cute.

She geeks out over hermit crabs.

She gets how funny the terms "snot noodles," "penguin pox," and "ass munch" are.

Suffice it say that she kicks ass! I love you dearly, Auntie Vind! Happy Birthday!

Monday Quote

"As for me, I could let you drown. But I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesy, savvy?"
- Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl

I've Got Nine Lives, Cat's Eyes...

What's my theme song?

Your Theme Song is Back in Black by AC/DC

"Back in black, I hit the sack, I've been too long, I'm glad to be back" Things sometimes get really crazy for you, and sometimes you have to get away from all the chaos. But each time you stage your comeback, it's even better than the last!

What's Your Theme Song?

Kick ass! I should have known!

Monday Quote

"Why do they always paint hallways that color?"
"They say taupe is very soothing."
- Ocean's Eleven

Lincoln, Me, and My Big Mouth

This post is about how much of an idiot I am.

Really.

I was at Disneyland with my Auntie and co. a few weeks ago and I had pulled a penny out of my pocket. We were in line for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and I was going to flip it into the water to join the thousands of other coins and make my wish.

I was standing there, staring at the penny. My mind registered that there was something not quite right about it. If I had thought about it for another three seconds, it would have made itself obvious. Instead, I opened my big fat mouth and said, "Oh, my God! They printed this penny backwards!"

Auntie looked at it. And looked at me. And said, "Kate, it's upside down." She then proceeded to laugh her ass off. For good reason, sure.

What can I say? It made me feel like an idiot (and still does), but it made her month. She's still laughing about it!

I don't know if this is better or worse than Mum taking the cat's Prozac...

What Doughnut Am I?

Thanks, Annejelynn!

You Are a Boston Creme Donut

You have a tough exterior. No one wants to mess with you. But on the inside, you're a total pushover and completely soft. You're a traditionalist, and you don't change easily. You're likely to eat the same doughnut every morning, and pout if it's sold out.

What Donut Are You?

James Bond, eat your heart out!

My Auntie was in Washington D.C. last week and visited the Spy Museum at the Smithsonian. We were sitting at Sunday dinner last night and she was telling me about this one particular spy who was a double agent during WWII and was a HUGE contributor to making the D-Day invasion a success!

I was intrigued. I thought, "There has to be a kick-ass book out there about this guy." And then, "Why the hell has no one made this into a movie?!"

Well, I did a little research today (I love the internet!) and found his story on MI5's website. Naturally.

His name was Juan Pujol, but his code name was GARBO and he invented 27 agents. A whole network of fake people to help him feed misinformation to the Germans. He made them think that the Normandy invasions were simply a ruse and the BIG invasion was still to come and that when it did come, it would be further to the North. The Germans actually set troops aside to wait for the 150,000 men, rather than adding them to the D-Day contingent.

Here's the best part! The Germans were so impressed with his dedicated service that they awarded him the Iron Cross.

For his whole story, and bios of three of his fake agents, go here!

I doubt he got a girl named Pussy Galore, though.

Monday Quote

"It's possible... you warthog-faced buffoon.... You miserable vomitous mass."
- The Princess Bride

Monday's Quote

So, this is long for a quote, but I love it so much that I don't care.

"This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

-William Shakespeare, Henry V

Three Stories

Today, we're having a flashback to 1997. Or was it '96? Anyway, it was highschool. In my youth, I was in our school's Concert Choir. Every year, we went on tour to compete. The year of our story, we ventured to Southern California.

Now, we have months leading up to our competition. We worked our asses off. Well, since we were in Utah, we worked our behinds off. We had an AMAZING teacher named Mrs. Moulton. She taught in the two middle schools that fed into our highschool too. By the time I graduated, I'd had her for six years. This makes for a really good choir. Most of the time, she was a very cool person. Funny, fairly easy-going, and the like. But the week before a concert, was known as "Bitch Week." She drove and pushed us. Yelled, threatened to throw her keys, had us sing in the dark, etc. But it ALWAYS worked. We had a pretty small choir compared to a few of the others in the area, but we kicked-ass consistently. Therefore, we put up with "Bitch Week."

So after we were done competing, we were exhilerated and a little punchy. OK, we were REALLY punchy! We got to go to Sea World on this particular trip and all of these high schools were the only people there! So, imagine a whole bunch of teenagers, high on adrenaline, running around Sea World... Scary, huh? We had a couple of guys in our choir who started us on a rousing rendition of "The Scotsman." Those of you who already know the song are shaking your heads now, just thinking about it. (Amazing that such devout Mormon children knew this song!) For those of you not familiar with it... here are the lyrics.

Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar one evening fair
And one could tell by how we walked that he drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happend by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to view, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment, then one said, "We must be gone.
Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move along."
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Around the bonnie star, the Scotsman's kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree
Behind a bush, he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes.
"O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize."
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
"O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize."

- Mike Cross

Awesome! I love that song!

We saw the seal show that night too. There was a whole (stupid) plot line, a man, a woman, and some seals. At one point, the man is supposed to scream, the woman's supposed to scream, and (I assume) the seal's supposed to scream. Only before the seal could get his word in... I screamed. Yup, you read it. I stole the seal's thunder. The guy looked at me and said, "Hey, kid, you want a fish?" I have to say, it was completely involuntary! It wasn't as if I sat there and thought, "Hmm, I'm gonna screw up their show!" The idea of that now that I'm a stage manager is horrifying! What kind of moronic dumb-ass would do that?! At the time, it just came out and I was just as surprised as everyone around me.

On another trip, I think, or maybe it was the same one... Anyway, we were at a shopping mall and there was a rather terrifying (being a 15 year old from Utah) group of punk-rocker, goth types hanging out. My friends and I were, once again, punchy as hell and I was laughing. No, you don't understand. I have this EXTREMELY high-pitched, loud, evil, laugh from hell that I put on every once in a while when I was feeling particularly frisky. One of the punk dudes looked at me and said, "Hey, man, can you laugh like the Crypt Keeper?"

At first, I was too freakin' intimidated to say anything, but then something clicked and I said, "Can you laugh like the Crypt Keeper?"

And he did.

Happy Birthday, Critter!

Since today is my sweet Daddoo's birthday, I thought I'd mention some of the best moments I remember with him!

For years, I gave him a rosebush every year for his birthday present. Yellow, especially.

I remember decorating his bicycle for the 24th of July parade. Straws on the spokes and crepe paper on the handle bars.

I remember that time he dropped my favorite toothbrush down a pit toilet.

I remember all the mini bottles he went to Wyoming to get for my 21st birthday. That Drambuie was nasty!

I remember that time my stuffed animal Ducky stowed away in the foot of his sleeping bag. And how Ducky looked with only his head sticking out of Daddy's bike bag.

I remember that time when we were hiking to Sand Dune Arch in Arches National Park and we got caught in that evil sand storm. He let me blow my nose on his shirt tail.

I remember the massages and the kisses on the forehead to finish them off. (They never do that at Burke Williams...)

I remember the hugs. *Sigh*

And I remember the "Little Girl, Kati" song that always made me feel better when I was sick.

I love you, Daddy Dearest! More than I can say. And I wish I was there now to give you the biggest hug in the world! Here's a cyber-hug. Not nearly the same thing, but what are you gonna do. HAPPY B-DAY!!!

A Thank You

I want to say thank you to the people of The West Wing. It would have been so easy for them to throw in the towel after John Spencer’s death, but they hung in there. Last night’s episode was a beautiful testament to them. Thank you for Vinick’s moral fiber in not using Leo’s death for his political gain. Thank you for Santos’ exquisite speech after hearing the news. Thank you for the poignant reactions of Josh, the president, C.J., Donna, and the rest. It must have been brutal for them to have to relive the experience over again. Thank you for keeping me on the edge of my seat as far as the election results were concerned. Thank you for the fact that I’m still thinking about it 12 hours later. It brought to mind the West Wing of old and made me remember all of the fabulous Leo moments from the past seven years. Thank you to Aaron Sorkin for bringing the whole thing to life. You guys have had a momentous run and I’m sad to see you go. I wait, with tissue box close at hand, for the funeral next week and the last few episodes of this beloved show. As Josh said last night, “Thanks, Boss.”

Monday Quote

"Keep them happy 'til I arrive. Tell them that joke you know."
- Batman Begins

What the HELL?!

Finally, a post by this title!

And why? Because I'm royally pissed off, that's why!

Here's the story...

I got a Gaelic Storm t-shirt for Christmas from my dear friend Josie (Hi, Jos!) and it's kick-ass! It's from the song Johnny Tarr, which if you don't know, you should! Anyway, when it came, I tried it on and it was too big. Bummer. It also had two holes in the right shoulder. Double bummer. And can I just say that there was nothing in the envelope with the shirt. Nothing. I had to ask around before I figured out who it was even from!

I sent the company (Musictoday!!!!) an e-mail, asking what they needed to send me a new one. They wrote back and told me to send in the shirt, with my name and address, and a note explaining what was wrong. They asked for the orginal order number if I had it. So, I sent it back and dismissed it from my mind.

Eventually, I got home and found an envelope by the door. Sweet! My new shirt! I opened it up and found... the same goddamned shirt! There was also a note saying, "We can't exchange it without the original order number AND the customer ID. Sorry." Bastards.

I called Josie and asked if she still had the info lurking around somewhere, but being that she ordered it FOUR MONTHS AGO(!!!!), she didn't. I sent them a rather irate e-mail Wednesday, explaining the situation and my frustration. And you know what I got today?! An e-mail saying, "We can't exchange anything without the original order information."

So, I'm STUCK with a too big Johnny Tarr t-shirt with two holes in it!! There's bupkiss I can do. EXCEPT, I can write about my experience in my freaking blog and hope SOMEONE out there can benefit from my... whatever the hell this is.

"It's not what you're thinkin,' it wasn't the drinkin,' this man died of thirst!"
-Johnny Tarr

Bella Luna

If you get the chance, watching From the Earth to the Moon is well worth it. It's a marvelous and evocative recollection of the days of the space race. Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo. It was done by HBO and Tom Hanks and has recently been re-released in widescreen. It's turned me into a bit of a space nut. I've read quite a few biographies of these amazing men. Deke Slayton's autobiography, Deke!; Tom Kelly's story of building the Lunar Module, Moon Lander; and the book the series was based on A Man on the Moon. Check it out!

And here are my top six "moon" songs...

6. Once in a Blue Moon by Nanci Griffith
5. Moon River by Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini
4. Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven
3. Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra
2. Moonlight Serenade by Glen Miller

And...

1. Blue Moon by Mel Torme

And, there's this... amazingly enough...

Which Tarot Card Am I?

You Are The Moon

You represent the unconscious side of life, what happens in dreams. You are capable of great genius - but also of great madness. Emotions tend to be primal for you, both your fears and your fantasies. Your intuition is always right, listening to it is the difficult part. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a very important journey - and a very difficult one. Some of your deepest dreams will be realized, as well as some of your deepest nightmares. Follow your creativity and visions; stay away from your weaknesses. You are taking a voyage to the center of yourself, and you may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.

What Tarot Card Are You?

Monday Quote

"You know what the difference is between you and me? I want to be the guy. You want to be the guy the guy counts on." - The West Wing, "Guns Not Butter"

Such a Good Cause!!

Hey, y'all! Go donate some moolah to the MS Walk! Click HERE for my friend Annejelynn's page! Every little bit helps! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!!! Thanks in advance! More from me later...

If I Were in Charge of the World

I was thinking today about what I would change if I ruled the world. (If I released my army of snakes on a plane, that is.) Here's what I would do...

1. There would be Tony Awards and Ovation Awards for stage managers.
2. Coke would be free.
3. That ass in the White House and the rest of his idiotic family would be banished to Neptune. (It's really cold there, right?)
4. Reality TV would no longer exist. Except for The Osbournes, cause watching Ozzy try to take out the garbage is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
5. Mayonnaise jars will be 6 inches wide and 3 inches deep.
6. George Lucas would no longer be allowed to direct. Write, sure. Direct, NO!
7. I would no longer work for 1-800-DENTIST. I would spend all my time stage managing for Banshee, in the fabulous theatre we would have.
8. My Auntie would have her own laptop, iPod, and Gameboy.
9. I could fly home to see Possum and Critter whenever I wanted!
10. Jennie could come see me whenever she wanted!
11. I could buy out Disneyland for the day, so I was the ONLY ONE THERE!!!
12. I would travel the world and see all the places I've dreamed and read about.
13. Paris Hilton would be consigned to a cage full of monkeys on Rodeo Drive for my amusement.
14. Clowns would be... I don't know. Something BAD would happen to them!
15. I would reinstate the tradition of afternoon tea.

That's good for now. I'll post others as they come to mind... What would you do?

Tater Tot, Seattle, and Hey!

Debbie has turned me on to a new blog! It's bean's blog and it's wonderful! Anybody who thinks that Pepsi is the "devil's pee," but doesn't want to degrade Satan is cool by me! He also has a bulldog named Tater Tot and a cow named Hey! (With the exclamation point, thank you very much!) So, if you're bored or need something to make you laugh, go take a look!

On the Coke note... Which Soda Would I Be? Naturally...

You Are Coke

A true original and classic, you represent the best of everything you can offer. Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of energy... you're the life of the party. Your best soda match: Mountain Dew Stay away from:Dr Pepper

What Kind of Soda Are You?

Mountain Dew?! Like hell!
Happy Thursday!

I Hear They Taste Just Like Chicken

Robyn told me a story, once, about a TV show she saw. It was a series of skits and most of them were bad, but one... One was about a couple who were having dinner. Both were looking bored with the bland meat they were having. The woman said something about how tired of her cooking she was. And the man said,

"Have you ever had muppet?"

At this point in the story, I was laughing pretty hard. First of all, muppet is a funny word! Not weasel funny, but funny. And it got better...

The woman says, "No! How do you catch a muppet?"
He replies, loudly, "You know, I can't seem to remember the difference. Which is near and which is far?"

A little, cute muppet pops up in front of him and says, "Near!"

He jumps on it and we cut to... A tasty dinner. They're thoroughly enjoying their juicy meal, when they hear a pounding from the door. It smashes open to reveal a Sweetums-size muppet who roars, "Far!"

It lasted me at least three days. And in that tone... if I were a muppet, I would be --

You Are Animal

A complete lunatic, you're operating on 100% animal instincts. You thrive on uncontrolled energy, and you're downright scary. But you sure can beat a good drum. "Kill! Kill!"

The Muppet Personality Test

For Thorin...

One by one, the penguins steal my sanity.

Monday's Quote

I thought I'd start the tradition of a Monday Quote. Because who really has time for something more on Monday's? I know I don't! I figure it'll be whatever quote pops into my head. Should be interesting. So, here's the first...

"So the day became one of waiting, which was, he knew, a sin: moments were to be experienced; waiting was a sin against both the time that was still to come and the moments one was currently disregarding." - Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Andy's Beautiful Day

I'm coming up on my one year anniversary of seeing U2 in concert and wanted to share a horrifying story from that kick-ass day!

My friend Debbie and I had been looking forward to seeing U2 for ages. We said, "The next time they come, we're GOING!" We kept our word and last year on April 1st, we met at work and drove down to Anaheim and Arrowhead Pond to see the boys.

We got there at about 8 in the morning and set up our lawn chairs to wait for the day. We played games and talked to the fellow U2 nuts. The women at the front of the line had been there since 5pm the night before. And we thought we were crazy! *Side note: I have to add that I missed a performance of the showing I was stage managing, so I could see U2! I wouldn't have missed a show of Mine Eyes Hath Seen for anything less!*

They had set up a row of Andy Gumps for the people waiting in line and, at one point in the morning, I went to answer nature's call. I had my cell phone in my back pocket and pulled it out before I sat down, thinking, "Ew! That would SUCK!" I finished my business, stood up, and heard the rustle of falling cardboard.

I turned around and saw... our tickets. In the potty. I had had them in my back pocket too. Oh, Jesus.

Thank God it was pretty early in the day and there were a few of those paper toilet seat covers on top of the... you know. And our tickets were perched nicely on top of the seat covers. I plucked them out, heaved a HUGE sigh of relief (No pun intended. Really!), and went to tell Debbie.

She laughed and then took the tickets. They were probably safer in her possession.

And U2? They were astonishing! You can see why they're such a good band. And we were CLOSE! Sitting in line all day was SO worth it. Thanks for going with me, Debbie, and for not dropping our tickets down the toilet. You're the best!

A Force of Habit

Yes, when I was little I wanted to be a nun when I grew up. Now, let me say that this had NOTHING to do with faith, devotion, or piety. This was all about singing, dancing, and meeting my Captain Von Trapp. I LOVED The Sound of Music! I wore out my video tape from watching it so much. It was sweet and romantic. Christopher Plummer was so dashing. ("Do you mean to tell me that my children have been roaming about Salzburg dressed in nothing but some old DRAPES?!") Julie Andrews and her voice were perfect. The Nazis were so... forboding.

Of course, I realize now that donning the habit would have been the last way to go about it, but when you're five everything's so much simpler.

Pixie Picture

I finally figured out how to get my picture up on my profile! It took me long enough! Geez!

My auntie says this picture makes me look "elfin." That's her green shoulder you can see. She was making a goony face in this picture, so I had to cut her out. :) (You know I love you, Puddin'.)

It was taken by a woman named Pixie. No lie. I opted not to put up the one where I was wearing a flower crown. I'm such a stick in the mud.

Three Things

Another post stolen from Annejelynn!

Three nicknames you go by:
Kate
Annie
Mousling
Three screen names you've had:
LadyKatherine
WestWingNut221
Katrina_LeFair
Three physical things you like about yourself:
Lips
Hair
My tattoo
Three parts of your heritage:
Irish
German
French
Three things that scare you:
Snakes
E.T.
Falling
Three things you're wearing now:
My “Vote For Pedro” T-shirt
My beloved Skechers
My geek Lord of the Rings watch
Three of your favorite bands or musical artists:
U2
Jimmy Buffett
Frank Sinatra
Three of your favorite songs:
These are the three most played songs on my iPod…
“Jump in the Line” by Harry Belafonte
“Defying Gravity” from Wicked
“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2
Three things you want in a relationship/lover:
Laughter
Comfort
Passion
Two truths and a lie (which one is a lie?): *Scroll down to the bottom of the post to see the lie...
Pickled beets are the best food on Earth.
I was a member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London for 5 years.
When I was little, I wanted to be a nun.
Three physical things about the preferred sex that appeal to you:
Eyes
Smile
Arms (Go figure.)
Three of your favorite hobbies:
Sewing (Cross stitch)
Reading, of course
Stage managing (I guess that counts.)
Three things you want to do badly right now:
Go pee!
Eat lunch.
Have a Coke. (I’ll try to resist this one.)
Three places you want to go on vacation:
Ireland
England (Always.)
Egypt
Three kids' names you like:
Lily
William
Sophie
Three things you want to do before you die:
Visit the pyramids at Giza.
Hike the Narrows in Zion National Park.
See Jimmy Buffett in concert.
Three ways that you are stereotypically a girl:
I love chick flicks!
I love a day at the spa!
Every once in a while, I feel the urge to wear a dress.
Three celebrity crushes:
Viggo Mortensen
Hugh Jackman
George Clooney (Congrats on the Oscar, man!)

*The Lie: I HATE pickled beets! Stay tuned for the nun story...

How Evil Am I?

You Are 34% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

How Evil Are You?

MWAAA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!!!!

Go, Dog! Go!

You know that book Go, Dog! Go by P.D. Eastman? And how they talk about "Dog Parties" where EVERYBODY comes? Well, that's how my genes work. The Johnson family gives you a propensity for setting things on fire, a fairly high pain threshold, and the over-powering need for dog parties. When I have a party, or an outing, ar anything with my friends, I want ALL of them to be there. The more the merrier, but squared! We all thrive on being surrounded by the people we love.

This made Sunday much easier to bare. My show closed after a fabulous six week run and there's always a sense of anti-climax to deal with. Curtain call was done, costumes were shed, friends had gone home, and we were left standing there on the stage. Just the ten of us. You could kind of tell that we were stalling. We had given our hugs and our tokens of thanks and someone said, "Timmy's?"

Timmy Nolan's is our local pub and our "cast hangout," as it were. Almost every Friday and Saturday night you could find us there, drinking, munching on curly fries, and enjoying each other's company. Last night I figured that after the show I would pick up some food, maybe a bottle of wine, and spend my evening watching a good movie. Probably Batman Begins. Nothing too celebratory, but not melancholy either. I was OK with that. When everyone agreed we needed one more trip to Timmy's though, I was thrilled! It was one last Eclipsed dog party!

There are two levels at Timmy's, but the top (where you can actually hear each other) doesn't open until 5pm on Sundays. Well, one of our lovely cast members talked them into letting us go up early. It was kind of nice. They hadn't turned on the lights yet, so it was a bit dim and quiet. And we were all there in the biggest booth, passing stories about the auditions and the first production of Eclipsed eleven years ago. It was a wonderful way to end the run and say goodbye to everyone. (I know I'll stay really close to these women, though. They're marvelous and gorgeous every one of them!)

So, here's to Dog Parties, heart-covered boxers, fake chocolates, accessible keys, and the cast of Eclipsed.

Elvis has left the building...

Erin Go Bragh!

I love being Irish on St. Patrick's Day! I'll have to have a Harp tonight to make it official! My sweet Mum just sent me this and I HAD to share!

May the light always find you on a dreary day.
When you need to be home, may you find your way.
May you always have courage to take a chance,
and never find frogs in your underpants.

Kick-ass, huh?! I have to asy that it reminds me of some Jimmy Buffett lyrics from "What if the Hokey Pokey is Really What It's All About?"

What if life is just a cosmic joke?
Like spiders in your under-wear or olives in your Coke.
My life can get as messy as a day old sticky bun,
So I arm myself with punchlines and a giant water gun.

It's the under-wear line that really links them. And I love the ickiness of olives in my Coke... *Shudder*

And since it's St. Patrick's Day, I have a perfect excuse to post this...

You're 65% Irish

You're very Irish, and most likely from Ireland. (And if you're not, you should be!)

How Irish Are You?

And this too!

You Are Guinness

You know beer well, and you'll only drink the best beers in the world. Watered down beers disgust you, as do the people who drink them. When you drink, you tend to become a bit of a know it all - especially about subjects you don't know well. But your friends tolerate your drunken ways, because you introduce them to the best beers around.

What's Your Beer Personality?

Pretty cool! Anyway, Happy St. Patty's to y'all!

The Happiest Place on Earth! Really!

It’s no joke when they say that Disneyland is the “happiest place on Earth.” Living in Southern California, as I do, it’s really easy to nip down to D-land for the day. Part of what I love about it is the people watching. The little girls in their princess costumes, the little boys with their swords and pirate hats. Then again, part of what I hate about it is the people watching. The long lines, the mobs of teenagers, the strollers.

Disneyland is one thing when you’re with a huge group of family, but I prefer to go by my lonesome. I can ride Space Mountain ten times in a row and no one gripes about how they’re gonna barf. Nobody has to pee every five minutes. I can have clam chowder for breakfast and lunch and one of those Mickey ice cream sandwiches for dinner. I can drink as much Coke as I want! I can run back and forth between Indiana Jones and Splash Mountain. I can wait until dark to ride Big Thunder Mountain and the Matterhorn. I can make fun of that dude that does the voice over for the Matterhorn! Hee hee! I don’t have to go on Small World, the Tiki room, or the Autopia (which stops being fun after you can drive a real car!).

One of the best rides is actually at California Adventure. It’s called California Screamin’ and is a kick-ass roller coaster! The best part is that it starts at a dead stop and then accelerates you REALLY FAST! Then you go up the big hill and on your way. You can’t help but scream your head off. The first time I went on it, I couldn’t stop laughing. That kind of therapeutic laughter that purges all the stress out of your system. It was wonderful!

My favorite part of the Disneyland “experience” is Fantasmic. Now, I can try to explain it, but I won’t do it justice. It’s a “show,” but that makes it sound cheesy. It’s on an island. There are rafts, fireworks, a gigantic dragon, a pirate ship, and every character you can imagine. There’s also animation, but they project it onto fans of water out in the middle of the river. It’s supremely cool is what it is. You tell people that you want to see it and that you have to sit down hours in advance to get a good seat. They grumble and moan about how they could be riding Haunted Mansion instead of having their butts going numb. But after they see it… they understand.

Some Disneyland BESTS…

BEST food: The Clam Chowder anywhere in New Orleans Square
BEST bathrooms: By the parking structure and at the end of Space Mountain
WORST: Any in Fantasyland
BEST place to rest when it’s hot: The Animation building in California Adventure. They have awesome projections on the walls of early sketches and final clips. You can also put your voice into some of the scenes from the movies. Jennie and I were Scar and Simba from Lion King. Very funny!
BEST portable food: Bengal Barbecue. And it always smells SO good!
BEST ride to Fast Pass: Splash Mountain! You skip SO much of the line!
BEST snack: Those BIG-ASS dill pickles! Drool!
BEST ride to go on when you’re punchy: Buzz Lightyear. Although, I have to admit that I’ve only been on this ride when I was punchy…

Clothing from Disneyland lasts forever! And only gets softer the more you wash it. Those mylar balloons last a really long time too. I hear the Mickey head balloons last even longer.

I tend to trust their renovations. After all, they REALLY improved Space Mountain (in my opinion). So, I’m not worried about what they’ll do to Pirates of the Caribbean. (I hear they’re adding Captain Jack Sparrow in time for the release of the new movie. Let’s think… That can’t be bad. Can they add Orlando Bloom too? Please? For me?) I haven’t been on the new Monsters, Inc. ride yet, but I love Mike, Sulley, and Boo. (“Kitty!”)

Going to Disneyland turns me into a kid again. I become a 5’3” five year old. Wide-eyed and jazzed! I want to have my picture taken with Mickey and go on EVERY RIDE! (Except for Mr. Toad. Did you know that he goes to HELL?!?! Can they DO that at Disneyland?! Send you to hell?!?!) I want to close the park down and spend the next day convalescing in bed. I want to go home hoarse and with sore feet! I want a light-up rose, a souvenir coffee cup, and a pouch of plastic jewels! I want mouse ears with my name embroidered on the back! And at Christmas time… they make it SNOW! In ANAHEIM!

You’ve got to love it! It’s Disneyland!

It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's...

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman 90% Spider-Man 80% Wonder Woman 70% Robin 65% Supergirl 60% The Flash 55% Green Lantern 55% Batman 45% Iron Man 45% Hulk 40% Catwoman 35%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero am I?" quiz...

Check out Bucky Katt!

I love these guys!

55 Trivial Things About Me

I’ve stolen today’s blog from Annejelynn and made it my own!

1. Your name spelled backwards. - enirehtaK
2. Where were your parents born? - Ogden, Utah (mum) and Northern California, I can’t remember exactly where (daddy).
3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? – Moonlight Serenade by the Glen Miller orchestra.
4. What's your favorite restaurant? – At the moment, the Macaroni Grill. Their chicken scallopine, a glass of chianti, and their lemon passion thingy.
5. Last time you swam in a pool? – Last Labor Day weekend, I think.
6. Have you ever been in a school play? – Good Lord, yes. A jillion in elementary school. I was Grumpy in Snow White and Pinocchio, most notably.
7. How many kids do you want? – Tough question. Right now, none. Maybe one, in the future, with the right guy.
8. Type of music you dislike most? - Rap
9. Are you registered to vote? – Absolutely! And one of these days, I’ll actually vote for someone who will win!
10. Do you have cable? – No, but if I could JUST get Comedy Central and maybe the History Channel, ooh and A&E that would be perfect.
11. Have you ever ridden on a moped? – Nope.
12. Ever prank call anybody? – Oh, many times!
13. Ever get a parking ticket? – Two, I think.
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? – Hell, no!
15. Furthest place you ever traveled? – I think Germany would be the furthest.
16. Do you have a garden? – Nope, I’d just kill it.
17. What's your favorite comic strip? – Get Fuzzy! Bucky Katt kicks ASS!
18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? – Of course!
19. Bath or Shower, morning or night? – Shower. Morning. Unless I’m pampering myself. Then, definitely bath.
20. Best movie you've seen in the past month? – Porco Rosso. Amazing!
21. Favorite pizza topping? – Pepperoni and black olives.
22. Chips or popcorn? – Chips, all the way!
23. What color lipstick do you usually wear? - Revlon’s Rose Velvet
24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells? - What the hell does this mean?
25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? – Ew! No! (No offense to Amanda!)
26. Orange Juice or apple? – If I HAD to pick, I’d go with apple.
27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine? – The cast of my show at Timmy Nolan’s.
28. Favorite type chocolate bar? – Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups!
29. When was the last time you voted at the polls? - November 2005
30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? – Summer ’04, the last time I lived somewhere with a garden and tomato plants.
31. Have you ever won a trophy? – In highschool. For taking choir for six years.
32. Are you a good cook?- If I actually cook, yes.
33. Do you know how to pump your own gas? – Umm… yeah!
34. Ever order an item from an infomercial? - No.
35. Sprite or 7-up? – Ick! Neither! Ask me Coke or Pepsi and then we can talk.
36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? – Thank God, no!
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? – Saline solution.
38. Ever throw up in public?- Oh, God, yes. I can never show my face at the Gordon Birsch in Burbank again!
39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? - True love.
40. Do you believe in love at first sight? – I believe in something at first sight.
41. Ever call a 1-900 number? - No.
42. Can ex's be friends? – Absolutely. I’ve seen proof!
43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? – GM, I think. Years ago.
44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? – I have no idea, actually.
45. What message is on your answering machine? - "Quincy, you leave the message!" Followed by yowls, howls, growls, and general pissed off noises from said cat. *Note: No animals were harmed in the taping of our message!
46. What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? – I hate to admit it, but I’ve never seen an episode of SNL! I’m culturally illiterate!
47. What was the name of your first pet? – Max, the handsome orange kitty.
48. What is in your purse? – When I’m doing a show, I switch over to a back pack. It has my script, pens, pencils, little first aid kit, highlighters, post its, paperclips, gum, white out, erasers, scissors, pencil sharpener, a couple of books, a hole punch, chap stick, lip stick, cell phone, keys to the theatre, car keys, my iPod, a ruler, and (at the moment) a doorknob.
49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime? – Read, listen to my iPod, take a hot bath.
50. Favorite Girl Scout cookie? – THIN MINTS! In the freezer!
51. Favorite grade school teacher: I can’t remember anyone who stands out that much.
52. Favorite grade school playground equipment: The swings!
53. Favorite grade school subject: Literature
54. Most hated grade school subject: Math
55. What is one thing you are grateful for today? – Good friends.

Me and Gene Kelly

I reverted to the age of five yesterday. It only lasted for a couple of minutes, but it was damned fun. I was performing the mundane task of taking out the garbage/recycling. It was “misting” outside. Nothing as substantial as “rain.” I had rolled up my jeans to keep them from trailing in the wet. The driveway between our buildings catches the water nicely and on my way back inside, I felt inspired to jump.

I’m out there skipping and jumping, trying to see how high I can splash, giggling insanely to myself, and one of my neighbors comes out. I was like a deer caught in headlights. A twenty-six year old woman, jeans rolled up to her knees, recycling bin in her hand, splashing in a puddle in the driveway. He just smiled at me and went to get in his car. I smiled back and hummed “Singin’ in the Rain” as I went back to cleaning.

“I’m dancin’ and singin’ in the rain…”

Put on your pants, America...

...It's time for a word about The Colbert Report! I'd watch Stephen Colbert read the phonebook! I'd get cable JUST to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. And he's a Lord of the Rings fan!

Anyway, I found this on the website for The Colbert Report today and I just had to share!

"Not familiar with the Jersey Smell? Start your car, then lie under it with your half-eaten goat." - Stephen Colbert (Naturally!)

And I love the whole "Threatdown" thing with bears!

And just for the record, "It's French, bitch."

Don't Breathe Too Deeply

Do you remember in My Big Fat Greek Wedding how her father thinks everything can be cured with Windex? Well, my family has something similar, but we prefer a highly flammable substance. Starter fluid. Those cans of starting ether that you get at Pep Boys. Well, Grandfather uses it for just about everything.

It can get ink out of the inside of the dryer. It can get Sharpie off of a gift bag. It can get Silly Putty out of cloth. It can get the goo from a price tag off of anything. And it can get tar off my ass. These are the exotic uses of starter fluid, but what we usually used it for was cleaning generators. It cuts through grease like nothing you’ve ever seen. Back to the tar-on-my-ass story, though…

Grandfather had an old building in Ogden that we always called “The Plant.” Come to think of it, I have no idea why. Maybe I’ll ask him. We were working there one day, tarring the roof. Roll out the tar paper, tar the seams, squish the fiber tape into the tar, and put a final coat of tar on top of the tape. I was working away, counting the hours until lunchtime, trying to keep the sweat from running into my eyes, and I hear, “Kate?”

I stood up and peaked over at GF. He was up to his armpits in the roof. There were some weak spots and he had fallen through one. There was a shelf of lawn mowers in the room below that had, thankfully, kept him from going all the way.

Not sure of what the hell to do, and wondering how I’d tell Grandmother if something horrendous happened, I said, “Yeah?”

He held out one hand to stop me and said, “Don’t come any closer. Just stand there until I get out.”

Not seeing how this was useful at all, I did as he bid. There were some anxious moments as he hauled himself out of the hole, but he made it. We both examined the gap when he was on solid ground again and marveled that he was in one piece.

While that’s an amusing anecdote, it has nothing to do with starter fluid, you say. True. But I’m getting there. While I had been tarring said roof, I had accidentally sat in some tar. I was wearing a really crappy pair of jeans, so I couldn’t have cared less. Grandfather only cared because of what my mom might say and the fact that I had to ride home in his Lincoln Continental. (That car was insane. It was HUGE and cantaloupe colored. We called it the Pimpmobile.) So, I wouldn’t get tar on his precious seats, he had me sit on a plastic grocery bag. Being that it was tar on my pants, the bag stuck to it. Sexy.

Back at the house, he stuck a rag down my pants, sprayed my ass with starter fluid, and started scrubbing away. There was a dark spot there, ever after, but most of it came out. It’s become a long-standing joke now. My roommate makes starter fluid jokes. I should ask Rebecca to post her story about using starter fluid to get the BO out of a stinky costume she had.

Beware the fumes.

Mr. James & Mr. Holmes

During my junior year of high school I had that teacher. You know the one. That teacher that changes everything and shapes your teenage life. Mine was Mr. James. He was very tall, probably in his late 50’s or early 60’s (I’m bad at guessing ages), always chewed a piece of gum, hated the Utah Jazz, loved the L.A. Lakers, and called everybody by their surnames. He also said I was a pod person. I’m not entirely sure why. He had a VERY dry sense of humor, so it was hard to tell if he really would deduct 50,000 points from your grade, or if he was just being funny. Many times, the rest of the class would be staring at him with fear in their eyes and I’d have tears of laughter in mine. During his class, one of our assignments was an “I-Search,” which is a paper that you research on your own. Complete bibliography, interviews, proper format, the works. But the kicker was, you got to pick your own topic.

I was very excited to write mine. I’m a horrendous procrastinator and was determined that I was going to do as much ahead of schedule as I could, hopefully avoiding tears and bloodshed later on. Now, I had Mr. James for the first third of the school year and the last third. During the second third, when a whole bunch of my friends were starting their papers, I quizzed them. What was the first step? What came next? What could I do without actually being in the class? I picked my topic and started working on my premise. Sherlock Holmes: Then and Now. Basically, why was Sherlock Holmes SO famous in 1887 when the first story was published and what’s so freakin’ cool about him that he’s still so famous today?

Yes. I am a geek.

By the time I had Mr. James for class again, I was rarin’ to go. I did my interviews, compiled my sources, wrote to Sherlock Holmes societies for information and, hopefully, useful quotes. I wrote it carefully. Let my parents tweak it, double check it, and prod the hell out of it. I don’t remember crying during that process, but Mum might remember differently. I turned it in, confident that I had worked my ass off and put in all the effort I could have.

A few days later, Mr. James came into class and towered over me. He pointed at me with one long index finger and said, “Ms. Trottier.”

I thought to myself, “Holy hell! What did I do?!” But, out loud I said, “Yes?”

He glanced at the rest of the class and said, “Ms. Trottier has written one of the best I-Searches I’ve read in years.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline and I mumbled, “Really?”

“There were a couple of technical mistakes, but it was so well written you still got over a hundred percent.”

Coming from Mr. James, this was HUGE! It’s like someone else jumping up and down and squealing with delight. All I could do was sit there with my mouth hanging open, looking like a fool. People stared at me and started asking what I had written my paper on that made Mr. James compliment me. I said, with an evil grin, “Sherlock Holmes.”

They were appalled. They had written about abortion rights and gays in the military and I had written about a FICTIONAL CHARACTER!!! It was a pretty cool feeling.

So, wherever you are out there, Mr. James, thank you for the inspiration, the guidance, and the laughs. And know that this pod person is very much enjoying her planetary sojourn.

Dinner with Robin McKinley

Picture it. A mother sitting next to her daughter on a bed, reading her a story. The curly-haired girl, listening with rapt attention to every word. The epitome of childhood, right? Maybe someone else’s, but not mine. Before you start moaning about how my parents should have read to me and how could they be so obtuse, let me say that my childhood was the opposite.

Instead, picture this. Mom cooking something on the stove and curly-haired daughter is perched on the counter with a book in her hands. Many of our dinners were fixed that way. Mum sautéing and me reading to her.

Being the offspring of two librarians was extremely useful. I’d finish a book and Mum would say, “If you liked that, you’d LOVE this!” I’d tell her that it couldn’t possibly compare with what I’d just finished, she’d tell me just to read the first chapter, I would and a day later I’d ask if there were more books in that series. She’d have them ready and waiting for me. I hated that she was always right!

Our favorite dinnertime, or anytime, companion was The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. It’s my favorite book in the world. I’m not sure whether it’s because it’s beautifully written or because I have so many fond memories of reading it aloud to Mum and Dad. Probably both.

Nine years ago, my copy was falling apart at the binding. Pages falling out, torn cover. And this was a hardback! My AMAZING father wrote to Ms. McKinley’s publisher and then to her. He got me a new copy of The Blue Sword and The Hero and the Crown (the prequel) and had her sign them for me. It was the best present I ever got. (And that includes my U2 iPod! Although, it’s a VERY close second.) He also gave me the letters he got from her. I never had the heart to get rid of my old copy, though. It’s still in my bedroom, lovingly preserved.

Mum and I could never pick which part we should read. Sometimes we just started at the beginning (a very good place to start), sometimes I had her pick a page number between 1 and 272. If we were really at a loss, I’d just start with her favorite part. The sentence, “Mathin could not sleep after he had silently wished Senay and Terim speed and luck,” can still send a shiver down my spine.

When I was home for Christmas, I asked Mum if she wanted me to read and, not being stupid, she said “Yes!” I said, “Blue Sword?” She just smiled. I read while she was cooking and after dinner the three of us sat by the fire and I finished the book. Surrounded by cats and blue-tinged flames, it was perfect.

“My honor is yours, Lady, to do with what you will. I have not been given a fall such as that in ten years and that was by Corlath himself. I’m proud to have had the teaching of you and, Lady, I am not the least of the Riders.”

My name is Kati...

My name is Kati and I’m a Coke addict. No, not that Coke. I mean Coca-Cola. It’s the stuff of the Gods. Just keep reading and you’ll know just how addicted I am.

I love the red of the can. That fabulous sound as you pop it open. (Nothing else sounds like a Coke does. Really.) That first sniff of tasty Coke smell that wafts out. The sound it makes as you pour it over ice. The slight tint of red it has when light shines through it. The way it bites with that first sip. The buzz of caffeine frolicking in your head. The classic taste of it. The last swallow of the can tastes best, I don’t know why. With pizza, or Chinese food, or French fries, or anything really. On an insanely hot day. When you haven’t had one in days. When you’re stuck in jury duty.

I am a purist, though. None of this vanilla-cherry-lemon-lime crap. No Coke floats! Definitely not diet! The only exception to this rule is Coke Slurpees. God, I love those!

De-toxing off caffeine is NOT fun. I seriously cut down on Coke just over a year ago and, at first, stopped drinking it entirely. The headaches were awful! People kept asking what was wrong with me. I lost quite a bit of weight, though. No Coke and green tea did miraculous things for my waistline.

So, there it is. My one true vice. I hear that knowing your addicted is the first step. Towards what, exactly, I don’t care too much… I’m sorry, I have to go. Like a siren calls a sailor, my Coca-Cola is calling me.

The Lights Go Dim

Many of you know how much I love the theatre and, more specifically, that second as the lights go dim. It’s all about anticipation. You’ve been waiting for this moment and this is when the show begins.

It all began with another evening at the theatre. There were many of them in my youth. We had season tickets to Pioneer Memorial Theatre Company in Salt Lake City. Tangent Alert! We always sat in the front row of the balcony at Pioneer and we went so often that we had one guy that we always looked for. He sat on the groud floor, just below us, if we were to look over the edge. He had a shock of white hair and, apparently, no comb. We called him "bed-hair guy" and he never missed a show. OK, tangent's done. Sometimes, we had season tickets for Utah Opera too. I can’t remember the evening that Grandfather first told me the story, oddly enough, but the tale itself has been burned on my brain forever. He said there was an old radio show that was recorded in a theatre off Times Square and every broadcast started with the phrase, “And the lights go dim in the little theatre off Times Square.” Every time after that, he would lean over to me and whisper that as the lights went down. Now, we both murmur it.

That second of suspension is one thing when you’re in the audience, another when you’re waiting to go on stage, and quite another when you’re the one controlling it. I came to this realization recently. I had been stage managing for a while before I figured out that I had been IN CHARGE of hundreds of those moments. I had made them happen! Wow! Such power!

Years ago, that second was a surprise. Cause for a quickening of my heart and sitting up a little straighter in my seat. Now, it’s all about fading out the pre-show music, bringing up the light for Sean’s curtain speech, and switching the CD’s for the first music cue. I have way too much to do to really cherish it. Unless, (this is just coming to me now), maybe that moment is stretched out for me now. It’s the length of the show. Two hours of quickening heart and sitting straight in my seat. It’s just as vivid, just as inspiring.

And the lights go dim in the little theatre off Hollywood Way…

Processed Cheese-Food Product

I was at the grocery story a few weeks ago and purchased a block of cheese. I'm a complete sucker for some super sharp cheddar and thought it would make good snacking material. Well, a couple of days later, I slit it open, cut off a chunk, stuck it in my mouth, and said, "What the hell?!"

It was sharp cheddar, BUT it was processed sharp cheddar! So, it had that evil "American" cheese taste to it! (What is so American about nasty cheese?) The texture was all screwed up and it was vile, plain and simple. I thought Robyn might eat it, but she made the same nasty face I did. Eventually, we threw it away. It was too gross to even think about eating. Blech!

Kick-Ass Songs!

Today, I bring to you my list of “Kick-Ass Songs.” Otherwise known as the songs on my iPod that I clean to.

Back in Black by AC/DC
Smooth by Carlos Santana
Elevation by U2
Punjab Paddy by Gaelic Storm
Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen
Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N Roses
American Idiot by Green Day
Jump in the Line by Harry Belafonte
Brown-Eyed Girl by Jimmy Buffett
Hell by Squirrel Nut Zippers
Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi (who are going to be on The West Wing! Would someone explain that to me, please?)
Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks
Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes
Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show by Neil Diamond

Before you know it, the apartment won’t smell like cat pee anymore.

I'm bored...

I apologize in advance for this exceedingly stupid blog, but I was bored and thought I'd torment the four people who read this! Have fun...

Nicknames: Kate, Annie, Kati-Bug, Kati-Kins, Ducky Daddles, and Ladybug.
Date of Birth: December 28, 1979
Parents: Possum and Critter
Sibs: Do cats count?
Pets/names: Quincy the fat-ass and Brid the lady. (Albert the fish kicked off yesterday.)
Jobs: In the past: generator repair, dance teacher to munchkins, bill payer for McDonald’s, and stocking slave at Hastings. Presently: web referral specialist for 1-800-Dentist.
Hobbies: Stage managing for Banshee, reading, sewing, and tormenting the cat.
Things I collect: Ticket stubs.
Best advice ever given: Carpe diem.
Word or phrases you use too much: "What do you want from me?"
Non-sport game in which you excel: Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit!
A non-sport game you enjoy: Clue or Rummikub.
Favorite amusement park ride: Space Mountain and Indiana Jones at Disneyland. California Screamin’ at California Adventure.
Character traits I look for: Loyalty, a sense of humor, and fearlessness!
What I want to be: me.
Denomination: How about you guess that one…
Favorite music: U2, Frank Sinatra, Jimmy Buffett.
Favorite Food: Clam Chowder and lettuce wraps at P.F. Chang’s.
Favorite Vacation: That I’ve been to: London and Tuscany. That I’d love to go to: Ireland and Egypt.
Favorite Actors: Hugh Laurie, the beloved John Spencer, Viggo Mortensen.
Favorite Actresses: Allison Janney, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Maggie Smith.
Favorite Movies: Men in Black, Raiders of the Lost Ark, A&E's Pride & Prejudice (or the new one, actually), the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and Batman Begins.
Favorite music video: Vertigo!
Favorite animals: Otters! They're fun to watch!
Favorite T.V. show: The West Wing WITH Aaron Sorkin and House. Also, The Daily Show and the Colbert Report! I love Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert! Can't wait for the Oscars...
Favorite Day of Week: Friday or Tuesday (That’s House night!)
Favorite Months: December!
Favorite holiday: Christmas and my birthday! They're SO close, they count as one!
Favorite part of the newspaper: The Comics (Get Fuzzy!) and Dave Barry's column!
Favorite books: The Blue Sword, The Beekeeper's Apprentice, Killer Angels, A Pirate Looks at Fifty, and A Man on the Moon!
Tartar control or whitening: Tartar control.
Favorite Cereal: If I have to eat it, Fruit Loops.
Peanut or Regular M&M's: Regular
Favorite M&M Color: Couldn’t care less.
Soda or Pop: Coke!
Favorite beer: Bass.
Favorite alcoholic beverage: Gin and tonics or ruby slippers.
Hardest thing for you to do: Admit weakness and step out of my comfort zone.
Biggest fears: Snakes, clowns, and E.T. (Shudder!)
Carnivore or Herbivore: Carnivore, but less so as time passes.

Queen of Quotations!

I am a quote FANATIC! I thought I’d share a small fraction of my favorites!

“For all times coexist and the future can sometimes affect the past, even though the past is a road that leads to the future.”
-The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper

“And below, in the cool cellar, lie row upon row the dusty bottles, each an enchanted glass coffin in which the sleeping beauty of the vine grows ever more ravishing in sleep.”
- “The Bibulous Business of a Matter of Taste” by Dorothy L. Sayers

“Roses are for love. Not forget-me-not, honeysuckle, silly sweethearts’ love but the love that makes you and keeps you whole, love that gets you through the worst your life’ll give you and that pours out of you when you’re given the best instead.”
- Rose Daughter by Robin McKinley

“You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate.”
-Henry V by William Shakespeare

“All right, that’s confiscated. All of it. And I want you on the next transport off this rock or I’m gonna shoot you where it don’t grow back.”
-Men in Black

“Did you know that your navel is a good place to keep salt when you’re eating celery in bed?”
-Red Noses by Peter Barnes
(For Andrew.)

“His whole manner suggested one continuous train of solid, round, furry thought, and he was mumbling softly to himself.”
-The Mouse and His Child by Russell Hoban and David Small
(Furry thought! I love it!)

“Why don’t we put a camera on your head? That way we can get your POV. Julie-cam!”
-Speechless
(Just for you, Possum!)

“Words ought to be a little wild, for they are the assaults of thought on the unthinking.”
-John Maynard Keynes

“Your actions today would get the Archbishop of Canterbury declared non-compos.”
“I’m not the Archbishop of Canterbury!”
“That will come at a later stage of your illness.”
-What the Butler Saw by Joe Orton

“A book reads better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog’s ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.”
-Charles Lamb
(For anyone who has seen me read the same book 15 times!)

“Death is just another path. One we all must take. The gray rain curtain of this world rolls back and it all turns to silver glass. . . and then you see it. . . . White shores. . . and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”
-The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien (Tweaked by Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillippa Boyens)

“They sent me two turkeys. The more photo-friendly of the two gets a presidential pardon and a full life in a children’s zoo. The runner up gets eaten.”
“If the Oscars were like that, I’d watch.”
-The West Wing, “Shibboleth” by Aaron Sorkin (and his cronies)

“Possum is nasty!”
-An unknown soldier of the Civil War, quoted from Mine Eyes Hath Seen
(For Sean.)

“At last the secret is out,
As it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell an intimate friend;
Over tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its design;
Still waters run deep, My Dear,
There’s never smoke without fire.”
-W.H. Auden

“I will buy you a coat. Chinchilla. Something that was once small and innocent, but is now . . . a coat!”
-Tango ‘til They’re Sore by Matthew Hancock
(For Robyn!)

“I have a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel.”
-BlackAdder Goes Forth

“Union rules. I can’t examine this guy’s seeping gonorrhea this close to lunch.”
-House, “Autopsy”

“I’ve woken to a dream of Africa; to torchwood trees and veldts and the rustle of savannah grass. This is a land of wonder, of drums in darkness, of wild teak and nesting doves. All around me, the rhino ambles, the zebra quietly roams, and tall birds wade along the deep lake’s edge. Who knew the velvet ink of night, the splendor of the sun above the mountain’s rim? Leopards weave their trails across the landscape of my heart. Here is a mystery for my spirit as it softly wanders; a riddle for my seeking soul: Africa has spoken, whispering, just drink of me, and I will share the secrets of the Earth.”
-Debra Bokur (Found on a Celestial Seasonings box!)

Banshee, the Bathroom, and My Bra

I’m stage manager for a local theatre company here in Burbank. (Insert shameless plug here. Check out Theatre Banshee at http://www.theatrebanshee.org/) I was thinking about one of my theatre nightmares the other night and thought I’d share. All actors have some sort of “Nightmare Scenario” running around in their heads. Well, this is a stage manager’s worst fear.

One night during our last show, I realized that if I didn’t go to the bathroom right then, I’d have to battle the crowd at intermission. I waited until a nice long scene, crept quietly out of my booth, and sprinted around to the back of the theatre and into the men’s bathroom. I think Josie (one of our actors) was in the women’s. Now, the lock on the door of the men’s is a little temperamental. I know this because I had a guy walk in on me one day while I was peeing. (He was so embarrassed and I really didn’t give a damn. Poor guy.) So, anyway, I finish my business and turn around to open the door and it won’t budge. I’m pulling on it and thinking, “Holy hell, that next cue is in just a couple of minutes and it won’t happen if I’m not there! The actors will be standing there, waiting for something to happen and it WON’T!!!” My cell phone was in the booth, of course. After many FRANTIC seconds (although, it felt like a decade), I got the damned door open and made it back to the booth RIGHT before my cue. My breathing didn’t return to normal for about an hour.

Another amusing stage managing story I have is from a show called What the Butler Saw. (For no apparent reason, really, as there’s no butler in the story AT ALL.) In the course of the show, which is a farce, just about everybody ends up in their under wear. The story of the second act picks up RIGHT where the first act leaves off. We had a clock on the set and before we started the second act, I would go out and move the minute hand back the 10 minutes that had passed during intermission. Well, one night I decided to do it without my shirt on. Long black skirt and black bra. The actors looked at me like I was slightly crazy (which I was) and when I stepped out on stage, a hush fell over the crowd. Then the clapping started. And a friend of mine said, “That’s classic!” After that day, it was common practice to lose my shirt before changing the clock.

All That Jazz!

So, shortly after I moved to LA, I went to see Chicago at the local movie theatre. Now, there are three of them within a fairly small space. I left nice and early so I could get there, park, get a big Coke, and find my seat. The first theatre (that I thought was the right one) wasn’t even showing Chicago! I walked over the second theatre in the mall and found they didn’t have another showing for an hour and a half. Damn it. By now, it was time for the show to start and I thought, “Well, there will be fifteen previews and 20 commercials, so I should be fine.” I got to the third theatre to find the show had already started and I had missed half of “All that Jazz,” which is my favorite song. I wasn’t too disturbed. This just gave me an excuse to go see it again.

Since the show had already started, I had to sit in the back in one of those seats next to the handicapped spaces. About halfway through the movie, I hear someone come in behind me. And they were mumbling to themselves. I also heard what sounded like a two liter bottle of Coke being dribbled onto the floor. I thought, “No, that CAN’T be what I think it is!” Sure enough, the dude was peeing right behind me. In VERY short order, some nice theatre employees had come to escort Mr. Piddle out. I made sure my purse was off the ground and decided that if it started to smell, I’d move.

When I left, they had a wet floor sign over it, but since it was carpet there wasn’t much more they could do. (That theatre was torn down shortly later and replaced by a fabulously nice theatre right next door.) I got home and asked my aunt if this was a normal happening in LA. She was most emphatic that it was NOT NORMAL for anywhere!

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Utah anymore!

The Little Things

Being in Utah for Christmas made me remember the things that I love about it. It’s the little details. The branches of the mimosa tree outside my bedroom window and how they look when it snows. The silence. It gets so quiet that you can hear the train whistles all the way down at the station. In Burbank, there’s this constant white noise from the freeway and it’s kind of eerie when that’s missing. I miss the field of goats on North St. and their little billy-goats-gruff bridge. I miss Ben Lomond and how beautiful it looks on a clear day. And that’s just it. A CLEAR day. So much less smog. And you can see the stars at night. You also only pay $3.50 for the early movie matinee. (And no one pees in the movie theatre! Stay tuned for that story in a future blog...)

Jimmy Buffett says that where you’re from is home. He says he’ll never live in Alabama again, but he still considers it home. That’s how I feel about Utah. Sometimes it makes me crazy, but when I fly into the Salt Lake Valley and see the Wasatch mountains, it’s comfortable and reassuring. Home.

Snakes in Your Car

I recently went to visit my clan in Utah. When I got there, my dad greeted me with the news that one of my favorite actors had died. John Spencer was amazing on The West Wing. If you ever saw an episode, you know what I mean. (Particularly the episode "Bartlet for America," for which he finally won an Emmy!) He leant gravitas and poise to the show and watching him act was a pleasure. I loved watching him interact with his colleagues and, as much as I love the rest of the cast, Leo was always my favorite.

When they did that dumb-ass stunt of giving him a heart attack last season, I was the first to swear profusely and turn off the TV. (Me and Sean. That's why I love you, man.) I was reluctantly and only vaguely pulled back in. But, when it hit me that he would be running for Vice President, I was willing to give the whole thing another shot. My interest has been waning in the last few months and now that John Spencer has passed into that fabulous theatre in the sky, I'll be hard pressed to keep my interest up.

I can see how this new fangled, realistic West Wing would capture the public, but I have to say that I desperately miss the idealistic world of Aaron Sorkin. The beauty of the writing and the fabulous mix of humor and profundity. The DVD's let me remember how wonderful it was.

So, here's to John Spencer. I won't forget him easily and I hope that where he's gone he can drink as much scotch as he wants.

"If the president's wearing a hat or that thing has a Bartlet button, I'm hiding snakes in your car."
"Leo, don't say that! Not even as a joke!"
"You'll never know how many there are or if you got 'em all out! Gonna lay their eggs right in your glove compartment."

The Day I Slapped Bobby Yacovetti

A phrase that catches the eye, yes? My mom thinks it should be the title of a short story. But, I did indeed slap Bobby Yacovetti. In elementary school. He was a toad and I'm glad I made him cry.

We were on the way in from recess and I was calling for my friends to wait for me. Bobby Yacovetti looked at me and said, "Shut up, Kati." He used a very slimy, nasty tone and I slapped him as hard as I could across his pudgy little cheek. He broke down in sobs.

The best part is, I don't remember getting in trouble for it. My mom didn't know until YEARS later and was more amused than mad at me. I don't remember scoldings from my teacher either. But talk about a funny story. Sigh.

Here Comes the Sun!

The Solstice is my preferred religious winter holiday. Christmas is about family and food, but Solstice is more about my beliefs. Solstice (for those who don't know) is the shortest day of the year and the longest night. For those of us who practice more... nature centered religions, this day is the celebration of the return of the light. The days start getting longer and it stays light later. It's pretty simple, really. And a lovely idea if you think about it. It's been cold and nasty and dark and with the 21st of December, all that turns around.

Now, I don't have any special traditions to go with Solstice like I do with Christmas, but my mom and dad and I have a glass of wine with our tasty dinner and drink a toast to the very beginning of spring. Blessed be.

'Tis the Season... to EAT!

So, Christmas in my family is a big to-do. Not that we're hugely religious about it. No midnight mass, no nativity scene on the mantel (Or as I used to call them, to my mom's amusement, "Jesus Things.") Christmas Eve is the big night. We all gather and we each have our food that has to be there. Uncle Kelly makes Hum Bow (Asian dumplings), Grandmother (or GM) makes chicken livers wrapped in bacon (and may, or may not set them on fire in the oven), GM also makes champagne punch, I make hot artichoke dip, Brenda brings shrimp, Grandfather (or GF) makes those little cocktail wenies, Debbie brings fluff salad (which involves cottage cheese and probably Jello), and if you're lucky Auntie Vind makes egg nog. (No, you can't leave the rum out!)

We sit around my grandparent's living room and eat until we think we'll all pop. Jennie, my best friend, usually stops by. She'd rather come to our party than her own family's. We exchange our psycho presents. (Last year, I gave her a tank top that said "Heathen." And this was for CHRISTMAS. The year before, I gave her a shirt that said CORONER from the L.A. County Coroner's Office. They have a kick-ass gift shop on their website, by the way.) Sometimes, GM and Debbie can con Wendy, Amanda, and me into singing Still, Still, Still for everyone. It usually makes Amanda cry, though, so it doesn't happen every year.

Occasionally, someone sets something on fire. Now, my family has this amazing propensity for combustion. One year, GM almost set the chicken livers on fire and filled the kitchen with smoke. Another year, Kelly leaned over a candle on the coffee table and set the arm of his sweater on fire. He smacked at it and it went out. The only thing that let you know something untoward had happened, was a slight toasty smell about his persona. We aren't fazed at all by open flames. There was a summer when GF was grilling salmon on the BBQ and something caught fire. Before we knew it, there were two foot flames shooting out of the grill. Smoke was filling the house. Our friend Susan was asking if we should be calling the fire department and the rest of us are just watching and saying, "No, it'll be OK." There was a badminton set behind the BBQ that was sent to the gameroom in the sky that day. There were also some BIG panes of glass, waiting to go into the windows on the patio. The sound of them shattering was like cannon fire and there was glass EVERYWHERE! The salmon was a little charred, but very tasty.

But, back to Christmas. No presents are opened on Christmas Eve, although sometimes I'll get a new dress for the party. It used to be that the whole family would spend the night. And Christmas morning would be an orgy of present giving. And GF would burn all the wrapping paper in the fireplace. Now, we do the present giving in waves. As people show up, they get their loot. After the presents are done, we all sit around playing our new games, watching our new movies, and being sloths. My favorite Christmas Day was spent watching it snow and snow and snow, sitting inside by the fire, watching episode after episode of The West Wing. And eating leftovers, of course. Christmas morning, we always have breakfast casserole (egg, cheese, and sausage goodness). Mum buys pastries. And we having Morning Glories. That's what they are in Utah. Everywhere else, they're Mimosas. For Christmas dinner, GM makes ham and cheesy potatoes (aka funeral potatoes, because they're at EVERY Utah funeral).

It's amazing how set in our ways we are, since most of us aren't Christian. It's more about the food and people we love. I look forward to it every year. I'm counting the days. To quote the song, "Although, it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you."

Next week, we'll talk about the other end of the spectrum and Solstice...

Strange and Splendid

A number of people have asked me if it's true that my mom organized a coronation for our cats. Yes, she did. A few years ago. It involved pound cake and a can of whipped cream. Each cat got a piece of cake with cream on top. They all licked off the cream and ignored the cake. That was when we named them. There was Her Royal Highness Titania, Queen of the Fairies; Sir Piwakkit Percival Softcat; Lord Michael of Yore and Anon; and Lady Gwendolyn of Light and Music. Now, this wasn't just my mom's doing. Oh, no. My dad and I played our parts as well.

But, my mom is a fascinating woman. At the moment, she's getting ready for one of her infamous teas. She has one about four times a year. Since, I would be put to death for revealing any details about the upcoming festivities, I'll flashback to one of the previous teas to give you an idea of how enthusiastic -- that is to say, crazy -- she is.

The last one I attended was based on a children's book called "When the Sky is Like Lace" by Elinor Lander Horwitz. It's old, but if you can find it, it's definitely worth a read. It's about how on "bimulous" nights, the sky looks like lace and everything is a "strange and splendid plum purple."

Part of the book is about how everyone gives gifts on bimulous nights. Red marbles, kites, anything chartreuse, honey, home-made marshmallow fudge, and coconuts. Well, mum took one of these items to each woman with her invitation. And when the time came, during the party, we all whipped out our presents and exchanged with each other. (I had to talk her into the coconuts, but they were a huge hit! And I really did home-make the marshmallow fudge. Who says I can't be sucked in?)

Another one of the gifts you can give on bimulous nights is three fireflies in a jar. Mum was looking on the internet just for a picture of a firefly, but found instead a RECIPE for a cocktail called a "Firefly." (Check out the Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails at www.lupec.org for a fun time. Motto: "Dismantling the patriarchy one drink at a time.") Most people would have served them in highball glasses and have been done with it. Mum, however, got those little canning jars, PAINTED fireflies on them, and THEN served the drink in them! (Don't run them through the dishwasher! Wash them by hand!)

Another thing about bimulous nights when the sky is like lace, is that the grass smells like gooseberry jam and if you walk on it barefoot, it feels like the inside of a very old violin case. So, one of the party favors was a jar of gooseberry jam. (Did you guess?) And to find out if there's going to be a bimulous night, you look at the man in the moon through a clean white handkerchief and if he winks his left eye, then you know it's time. We all got a handkerchief as well. The food to eat on bimulous nights is spaghetti with pineapple sauce. I have to say, we did skip that part.

Her other quirks seem to escape me at the moment, but I'm sick. I'm sure I'll have other blogs about my beloved Possum, so for now, I'll end with my favorite bit from the book...

"The snails sulk under the cinnamon bush until the moon is high. Then they line up two by two and march down to the grove to watch the trees dance. Because, on bimulous nights when the sky is like lace, the trees eucalyptus back and forth, forth and back, swishing and swaying, swaying and swishing - in the fern deep grove at the midnight end of the garden."

Feed me, Bitch! I'm FAT!

It starts each night at 5:15, or so. The meowing. The staring. The trying to trip you every time you stand up. It's almost dinner time for Quincy. Quincy is the cat. My roommate, Robyn's cat. He's large. No, you don't understand. When I say large, I mean Jabba the Hutt LARGE! When she took him to the vet recently, he weighed over 24 pounds! He's no pixie. And his attitude is that of a disgruntled postal worker that hasn't had a day off in 15 years. Despite the fact, that the most strenuous thing Quincy does in his life is jumping on and off the bed.

One of my hobbies is tormenting Q. It takes very little effort on my part and Robyn and I find it to be highly amusing. Just touching him in the wrong spot or moving when he's on your lap will set off the growling. Robyn always says that he doesn't like to be touched in his "bathing suit area." We figure it's one of those 1910's, one-piece, knee-to-neck numbers, cause he'll get pissed pretty much anywhere you touch him. The top of his head is really the only safe spot. (But, it has to be his idea.)

Dinner time is very important to Quincy. From his woeful meows, you'd think we never feed him. He's absolutely certain he's wasting away and will die at any moment. We won't feed him until seven, but he starts asking nice and early. He thinks we'll cave if he annoys us enough. And sometimes, we do.

Living with Q was just peachy until we got our newest addition. Brid needed a home. Brid is a ladylike, normal-sized cat who's the softest creature ever to grace the planet Earth. And Quincy hates her. I have to say, the feeling is mutual. To Q, she is Nermal. The adorable, annoying interloper who has invaded his space and stolen part of his affection. To B, Quincy is the gigantoid, mutant behemoth that lurks in the kitchen doorway so she can't get to her food. They growl, they hiss, and -- worst of all -- they pee.

"My apartment!"
"No, MY apartment!"
"Bite me!"
"Watch me!"

What a mess it was! With a little tweaking and a lot of swearing, we seem to have, at least, lessened the damned peeing. (It was when someone peed in my laundry basket on my dirty clothes that I came closest to the bag-in-the-river method. I'm not naming names, but I know it wasn't me and I'm pretty sure Robyn only pees on her own laundry.) They've come to a reluctant armed truce. They still growl and hiss and, occasionally, Quincy will have a lapse of sanity and thwack Brid on the ass. But then, he runs like hell.

B gets the apartment during the day and Q gets the nights. So, she sleeps next to my pillow and goes digging for the Ark of the Covenant in the cat box five minutes before my alarm's going to go off at the butt crack of dawn. I love cats. I really do. But, they're weird, weird little animals. Much like myself, actually. Maybe that's why I understand them so well.