Archive for the 'Addictions' Category


My girl crush


Oh Tina, you’re so fine

you’re so fine, you blow my mind, hey Tina, hey Tina!*



I don’t swing that way. But if I did, Tina Fey would be my “it” girl. She’s my girl crush. There aren’t enough adjectives to cover all the ways in which I adore this woman.  I’ve always liked her on “Saturday Night Live.” So smart and sexy. And when “Mean Girls” came out. Shut up! I was impressed, infatuated and amazed. What couldn’t this woman do? Sadly, I’ve not watched “30 Rock” regularly. Not because of dear Tina. Oh, no. Just me not having prime-time TV time in my life right now. But this weekend was the big one for me. I’m head over heels, Tina baby. You deserve every Emmy out there. You deserve to be president. Forget Obama. I’m doing a write-in: Fey-Poehler.

*apologies, I suppose, to Toni Basil and “Hey Mickey”



Wordless Wednesday/Monday puzzle award thingy

Disclaimer: Obviously it’s not Wednesday. And if you’re reading this, it’s clear I violated the “wordless” part of the deal. So, where does that leave me? Feeling a little foolish. Mostly I’m panicky about this post, which was scheduled to run LAST Wednesday but um…there was a technical glitch (rhymes with WordPress) and then Wednesday was over. All blame aside, I am thrilled to be the recipient of a blog award. So thrilled I am rendered nearly speechless. (I swear!)








Therefore, I get this cool item, found here

Kick Ass Blogger Award


To that I say:

And offer this:


Now I must


  • ALIAS LIZ JONES: She writes about chickens, odd neighbors, her travel adventures and views life through a very interesting pair of shades. 
  • MARCY’S GLAMOROUS LIFE ASSOCIATION: The name says it all. Her AdTalk feature alone is worth the trip. 
  • SUBURBAN KAMIKAZE: It takes a special certain something to tell the world your child was contemplating two different ways to prepare earthworms for lunch. Plus, SK does NPR. 
  • FOOLERY: Just about everything fun you could imagine, including “piffle” and “horsefeathers,” under one roof.
  • PROSE AND CONVERSE: Isn’t this a clever name for a blog? It’s real. It’s honest. And it’s live from “the Devil’s Buttcrack.”

Should you five nominees choose to accept this award, place it carefully next to the Oscar, Emmy and Grammy on your mantel, and make sure you look here again for the rules, regulations and recall notices.


Seventh-inning stretch

OK. this is a stretch.
The creative group over at Suburban Kamikaze tagged me as I was bailing water out of my tent last weekend to do a Seven meme. I didn’t really get it because as I’ve mentioned, my cranium is filled with cake batter.
Then the powers that be over at Humble Origins participated in a similar meme with the number Seven in it. While I wasn’t tagged by name, I could jump on the Seven bandwagon if I so desired. Seven is lucky, right? Seeing as I probably need to do a little soul-searching and reflection, here it goes:

1. Skydive.
2. Get a tattoo to commemorate Girl from the East. (I already have one for Girl from the West.)
3. Learn Mandarin well enough to speak it in China.
4. Relocate to the Rockies or west of the Rockies.
5. Love the skin I’m in.
6. Discover a new career/life’s work.
7. Travel as much as I can to as many continents as I can.

1. Make a complete fool out of myself without much effort.
2. Decorate/paint (walls, etc.) fairly well.
3. Live for several days out of one backpack.
4. Read a book in one sitting.
5. Do a vocal impression of Louis Armstrong singing “It’s a Wonderful World”. Also, several cartoon characters, including Marvin the Martian, and the Cowardly Lion from “The Wizard of Oz.”
6. Touch the palms of my hands flat to the floor while tucking my head between my knees. (The job offers just keep rollin’ in ….)
7. Eat with chopsticks.

1. Sing well or play a musical instrument. (wish I could!)
2. Walk on stilts
3. Pay someone to give me a manicure/pedicure.
4. Pay someone to wax any part of my body.
5. Pay high prices for designer label clothing/shoes/purses.
6. See the hidden images in the Magic Eye 3-D posters of the 1990s. (See below).
7. Get a decent night’s sleep.

1. Brown eyes.
2. Dark hair.
3. Intelligent sense of humor.
4. Sense of adventure.
5. Minimal hairiness.
6. Drive/dedication.
7. Compassion.

1. What in blazes?
2. Toodles. (Obnoxious, I know.)
3. All right … who did (insert offense here)?
4. All right … who didn’t (insert offense here)?
5. I’m hungry.
6. Why doesn’t this fit?
7. I need a glass of wine.

1. Jack White
2. Mary-Louise Parker
3. Elizabeth Perkins
4. Johnny Depp
5. Jack Nicholson
6. Frances McDormand
7. Julia Louis-Dreyfus

1. Southwest food.
2. Sushi.
3. Baklava.
4. Chinese/Japanese/Thai food.
5. Middle-Eastern food.
6. Salsa.
7. Kettle corn.

Well, seeing as I’m a rather shy person and don’t like going around tagging folks, I’ll probably just hide behind a tree and toss something at your shoulder as you pass me by. If you happen to notice it, you are it.


Breathing heavily through my right eyelid

So my new friend down the street, Alias Liz Jones, has invited me over for a playdate. But first I must fill out a questionnaire (a.k.a. meme). I’m guessing that I will be screened for mental fitness and rare tropical diseases before an actual outing will commence. In the meantime, I’ve been given a packet of crayons and a coloring book to amuse myself while I’m observed through a one-way glass.

On with the show:

1.Favorite quotable line from a movie:
Just about anything from “Bull Durham,” which is my all-time favorite flick. I’m not even a baseball fan. But everything just clicks in that movie. You can learn all you need to know about life from that movie, I swear. It’s probably Kevin Costner’s only good movie role. Susan Sarandon rocks. The script is top-rate and highly quotable.
Anyone who knows me well, knows I reference this line often: (it’s from a scene where Annie Savoy is coaching one of her rookies.)
“I want you to breathe through your eyelids, like the Lava Lizards of the Galapagos Islands.”

2. Most famous person I talked to:
Jack White when he was dating Renee Zellweger. His right arm had a really heated conversation with my left shoulder at a Dirtbombs concert at the Magic Bag. My shoulder hasn’t stopped talking about it yet. Also, Joyce Carol Oates, which basically featured me drooling all over her life’s work while she muttered monosyllabic responses to my lame questions and dabbed at her book jackets with a tissue.

3. How many bags/boxes of chips are consumed in your house in a month?
Um, does a Hefty bag count as a quantity?

4. What foreign dish do you prepare from scratch?
If I say I’m from the Isle of Vegetaria, maybe a few good meatless recipes, but I mostly leave the cooking of foreign dishes to the experts. My own heritage is one that is sorely lacking in the fine cuisine department, unless boiled cabbage and stringy meat tempts the palate.

5. What’s your favorite section of the super market?
I’m swept away by the produce section. I’m lured by the scents, the bright colors, the artful displays, the pyramids of citrus fruits, the geometric pattterns, the smooth skins and the firm textures. I’m often spotted burying my nose in a bouquet of cilantro. It borders on pornography …

6. What was your high school team’s mascot and colors?
The Blue Devils, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean, and the colors were blue, of course, and yellow.

Well, I hope I colored within the lines and that I was given the non-toxic variety of crayon. All that writing about chips and produce got me a little hungry. Now, I’m supposed to pass this on to others.

So, attention to Humble Origins, Life in Mathews, and Purses and Poop. It’s your turn.
I’ll leave you all with this parting thought:

“The world is not made for people cursed with self-awareness. ”
–Annie Savoy
“Bull Durham”


thanks, jack

A while back I wrote about Detroit, my love/hate relationship with the city on the strait and the White Stripes. I lamented the departure of Detroit native Jack White of the White Stripes and Raconteurs and wondered who next would put the D on the map in a positive light.

This morning, I opened up the Detroit Free Press to find this unexpected gift:

‘Courageous Dream’s Concern,’ by Jack White

I have driven slow,
three miles an hour or so,
through Highland Park, Heidelberg, and the
Cass Corridor.
I’ve hopped on the Michigan,
and transferred to the Woodward,
and heard the good word blaring from an
a.m. radio.
I love the worn-through tracks of trolley
trains breaking through their
concrete vaults,
As I ride the Fort Street or the Baker,
just making my way home.

I sneak through an iron gate, and fish
rock bass out of the strait,
watching the mail boat with
its tugboat gait,
hauling words I’ll never know.
The water letter carrier,
bringing prose to lonely sailors,
treading the big lakes with their trailers,
floats in blue green chopping waters,
above long-lost sunken failures,
awaiting exhumation iron whalers,
holding gold we’ll never know.

I’ve slid on Belle Isle,
and rowed inside of it for miles.
Seeing white deer running alongside
While I glide, in a canoe.
I’ve walked down Caniff holding a glass
Atlas root beer bottle in my hands
And I’ve entered closets of coney islands
early in the morning too.
I’ve taken malt from Stroh’s and Sanders,
felt the black powder of abandoned
And smelled the sawdust from wood cut
to rehabilitate the fallen edifice.
I’ve walked to the rhythm of mariachis,
down junctions and back alleys,
Breathing fresh-baked fumes of culture
nurtured of the Latin and the
Middle East.
I’ve fallen down on public ice,
and skated in my own delight,
and slid again on metal crutches
into trafficked avenues.

Three motors moved us forward,
Leaving smaller engines to wither,
the aluminum, and torpedo,
Monuments to unclaimed dreaming.
Foundry’s piston tempest captured,
Forward pushing workers raptured,
Frescoed families strife fractured,
Encased by factory’s glass ceiling.
Detroit, you hold what one’s been seeking,
Holding off the coward-armies weakling,
Always rising from the ashes
not returning to the earth.
I so love your heart that burns
That in your people’s body yearns
To perpetuate,
and permeate,
the lonely dream that does encapsulate,
Your spirit, that God insulates,
With courageous dream’s concern.


Already the Internet has unleashed the vipers to attack his writing, which I find sweet and true. I’ll not know the true motivations behind the words, but for this Detroiter, all I can say is Thank You.



I came across a box of dusty, musty books in my basement. A box I had forgotten about. Sometimes I uncover a forgotten box and find hidden treasure: letters from a high-school sweetheart, or exchanges from a childhood pen pal or clippings of my first published work.

Not so this time. What I found is the equivalent of a trashbag full of dirty socks.

The box no doubt has been shuffled around our basement from point to point. I’m sure I originally dumped it in what is now our organized storage room, with good intentions of sifting through the titles for any keepers. Then, of course, it was forgotten and buried in the mess.

The majority of the books in this box seemed to be the product of a vanity press that specializes in contemporary romance novels. I think I read one romance novel in my life and I’m sure it was when I was in middle school. I think it was “Love’s Heaving Rapture” with passages that read: He unsheathed his sword and lanced her maidenhood. I’m quite certain my mother found it and confiscated it.

I’m considering the same fate for these books. This is another example of the books that get dumped on me “because I like books” by well-meaning folks who are cleaning house. Folks who seem to think there is no difference between “Passion’s Torrent” and “A Separate Peace.”

As if anything with a spine, cover and pages qualifies as worthy of space on my shelves.

But how can you explain to someone else your taste in books without coming off as a snob?

All is not lost. I’m a book snob to be sure, but a closeted one. Consider me spineless to the outside world. After all, how else would I have gotten my hands on these beauties?


Once you go black …

MomZombie got a day pass today.
All day away. With money. Whoo-hoo, as the happy people say.
Visited the rock star hair salon for touch up, walked out kinda blond. I have two days to decide whether to keep such a high-maintenance ‘do, or go back to my dark brown with warm streaks of red and amber.
Had lunch alone. Sounds depressing but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this. It was nice.
Went shopping for fall/winter clothes. There is never enough money or time to find clothes. I desperately need to be on “What Not to Wear.” I want the $5,000 New York shopping trip with a clothes coach.
Nominate me. Here’s why:  I wear almost all black clothes. Oh, on wild days I wear brown, or olive green or gray. Most of my almost all black clothes are old, faded, frayed and mostly frumpy. I always intend to have a cool wardrobe of hip clothes.
But I yo-yo diet. So, if I get a collection of good stuff, I gain weight and it sits in the closet going out of style. Then I’m fat and depressed so I buy a whole bunch of cheap crap at those big-box cookie cutter stores and wear the hell out of it all until I lose the weight. Then it’s a slow-go getting back to a nice wardrobe again.
I got crazy a couple years ago and purchased an array of colors: bright oranges and juicy reds, shirts swirled with turquoise and emerald, tops slashed with stripes in pink and purple. But I found that this sort of clothing only looks good on skeletons. If you have junk in the trunk, muffin tops and an ample chest, you risk looking like a sofa in such stuff. (I even had a lady try to sit on me at the mall. No joke. Ask Girl from the West.I must have looked like an inviting cushion or something.)
So I’ve retreated to the slimming browns and blacks and grays. I splash on color using jewlery, scarves and belts. But I’m drawn to black. Today I bought yet another black top to wear with jeans and a new pair of zip-up high-heeled boots. What color? Black, of course.
Tell Clinton and Stacy, would ya?

"It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes." --Dorothy Parker
September 2019
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Kick Ass Blogger Award