Do you see me now?

This is it! I'm heading to paradise and I won't have time to write when I'm gone. Perhaps, if you're that desperate, you can go through my archives. I'm sure there's something worth your time.

I leave you with this little tidbit I'm rolling around in my mind. What is it that is so different here? The Hebrews don't ask why for?, but instead how can I help?


Peut-être vous me manquerez ?
-----------------------------------
Honey, in no time, you will feel almost fine. I'm standing right here beside you.

O where is your inflammatory writ?

Doesn't her hat remind you of my white Alpaca hat? My poor, dying, cat eaten hat.


Current working goal:

(From my Guru is U group-- it sounds totally cheesy but, in fact, it's very enlightening):

In the ancient practice of yoga, the term is used in a couple of different ways. The literal definition the word guru means "remover of darkness". Gu means darkness and Ru means to remove.

Another definition most of us are familiar with is that it is an actual yoga master who has achieved enlightenment and works to help others achieve it as well. (This can be a fairly sticky subject - another Blog entirely - as there is a long list of many a "guru" who have shown us that, in fact, they were not enlightened very much at all.)

But perhaps most importantly, yoga teaches us about the inner guru, or the inner wisdom that helps us go from darkness to light, from the untruth to the truth, from pain and suffering to joy and peace. And while many yogis go to a Guru (an enlightened person) to help them awaken, at the end of the day the final choices we make, and the decisions about our life, or journey and our awakening, are ours.

Yoga teaches us, or better yet reminds us, that deep within our own heart lies the greatest "remover of darkness" or guru. Many of the words used consistently within the framework of yoga (mantras) work to remind of us of this fact: that we have within us great resource; that we are in fact much more than we perceive ourselves to be: that this inner guru, or wisdom, is in fact the Infinite Itself manifesting as us; and that the idea that we are separated from our Creator is only an illusion. It can be helpful to use the metaphor of the ocean to clarify this point. The Creator is the Ocean, and we are Its waves. Can you separate the wave from the ocean?

I, for one, can not separate anything from anything. Those who know me know my indefinite love of going on a tangent.

So this morning I awoke, had Joanna Newsom in my head, danced a little circle in my robe (we still have the windows open, it is still fairly chilly in the morning), my pj pants fell off, Husband was still asleep, it is these lovely morning times that I claim. I found this old necklace my brother had given me and have decided to wear it. Turns out to be quite the auspicious move!

It's obviously a Hindu god with a Monkey Face. His name, after some research, is Hanuman, the humble god of strength and courage. Performer of miracles, he is highly revered.

Jai Hanuman gyan gur sagar Jai kapis tihu lok ujagar....

trans. Praise be to Hanuman who is an ocean of wisdom and virtue Praise be to the monkey god.

Ocean, ocean, ocean. The Ocean is my favorite Led Zeppelin song.

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And the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee
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Last night we studied Jezebel, priestess of Baal. So fascinating those Canaanites. So many more books I now, then, have to get to.

If you ever get close to a human

Fashion Week Favorites:


It's Urkel!


?????????????????


Acid Jeans are never ok. NEVAR!

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I know you lost, but I'm still here. I'm still here. Just look at me. Look at me.

So sure those girls are all in the navy

Why is her face such a different shade from her body?

Sure Megan Fox is hot and yada ya but I mean really? I'll stick with Angelina anyday. Whatever. I'd totally do them both.

Roll me in designer sheets, I just can't get enough

I'm now reading Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, and I got it, gasp, from the library* and I'm struggling with it (bc I'm scared of where it's been) but we didn't have the moola for me to buy it right now. And I love it. It's really fairly amazing. Atwood is wonderful at the near post-apocalyptic, one of my favorite genres of anything, books, film, music, etc. And she's so incredibly inventive. The games she invents, I've never read anything like them aside from good ole Infinite Jest and it's Eschaton, and although she doesn't quite go into the same length of detail (understatement of the life), the games themselves are fascinating, Risk-era style. I fell in love with Risk in Oxford, England and I still have the picture from playing that game that lasted 1,000 years. I'm still no good at it but I love it. I love the idea of it. Not as much as Scrabble mind you, but all the same. But no one will ever play with me. It's such a commitment.

So anyway I'm enjoying the book. A lot. And these games, I want to play these games. Blood and Roses. The Extinctathon. Others I can't remember now. I love playing games. Really only a development later in life. In high school I played the hell out of some cards but that was really only bc there was nothing else to do aside from school work and boys weren't all that important next to books and my girlfriends. But it mostly faded. No one ever wants to play games.

And I married a video gamer. Not the creepy obsessive type. Not like these guys.

Metalocalypse rules!

But he loves his video games all the same. And he's always looking out for games he thinks I'd like. And I enjoy watching him play, like, GTAIV, weird I know, but for the most part it's not really for me. Except the new DC Universe where you get to be a bad guy and blow stuff up. I think that sounds really fun. But it's still in the works. All the games I think I'd like are always still in the works. Or for the wrong system than what we have. Hubs tracked down a Nintendo Game Cube once for me to play that Zelda game with the horse. It was awesome. I was addicted to collecting bugs.

And now there's a new Zelda game coming out!! We have to get a Wii. We don't need a Wii but there always such a party hit and we have the 2nd Annual Wilson Christmas Annual Extravaganza to think about.

All work and no play...

It's strange being such a game player. I don't know why. It just feels foreign. Like girls don't do that. Or something. Just another way I'm on the right team I guess.








*Footnote, I'm terrified of used books, library books, libraries, librarians (except hot ones). Always have been. Always will be. Debt incurred be damned.

Don't go for second best, baby

REGISTER TO VOTE Y'ALL!

I don't care how you do it, just do it for Obama!

Our nation really needs everyone to come out and call out intelligently for what it needs. The earth, the ground, can't speak for itself. This precious gift of life in knowledge needs to be repaid. Vote for diplomacy. Vote for natural energy resources. Vote for nurturing our wounded veterans. Vote for tax breaks on the "lower classes" so we can afford our house payments, our transportation to work, our debt from living paycheck to paycheck. Vote for campaign finance reform. Vote for America owning more of America than foreign investors and creditors. Vote to end the illegal Iraqi war. Vote because our nation can no longer sustain the Republican administration. Seriously, have you seen how much in debt we are?

I don't wanna become an expat.

Just to be there in your arms

Amazing the things you can find on the internet when you're wanting coffee. Good coffee with a little warm milk and vanilla and honey. Oh God I just drooled onto my keyboard.

Stamp Stamp Stamp. Got a check? I'll stamp it! My mom, being my boss, provides me with all the tasks she no longer wants to do nor has to do because she has me to do them all for her. Business owning rulz! So I am paying bills, stamping her signature in the line (bonus if I ever have a school trip to the museum again, or if I could go back in time and get some birth control from my high school -yes, my school had a full fledged doctor/psychology/women's clinic in it. As well it should, Little Rock Central High was the jam! (they no longer have these full services, boo! Just AA meetings and anger management bc high school kids these days got issues!))
and drooling over coffee I can't have for another hour. HOUR DAMN YOU!

So here's more funny pictures from the intrafrawebbernetter:


Bc KIDZ RULE!


Who was she kidding?


I love these guys. I'm so glad Amy Pohler quit SNL. She deserves the best!

Funny, they left someone out of the picture!!

In the garden, I did no crime

A Mad Teaparty, Zelda Fitzgerald

Last night couldn't have been better. Here's how you capture your own heart (if you take my word for it):

-In the morning, wake up and make strong French press coffees. Drink the whole pot yourself. ZING-A!

-Get your crockpot, wash a bag of pinto beans, throw those puppies in on low and go get dressed.

-Come home, add a few slices of bacon, a little salt ('cause bacon's salty mostly enough), and add dried basil. Move it to keep warm bc your beans will be about mush=perfect.

-Plan on cooking cornbread with jalapenos per Husband's request, realize you have no egg, make Indian fry bread instead.

-Crack either Pyramid Apricot Ale or a Guinness, or both, sit at dinner table, chow down and die bc it tastes SO GOOD! Better then my own moma's (just don't tell her while I'm around!). Yum yum yum!

-Fall asleep due to Guinness while watching something on tv. Go to bed by 9:30. BAM!

---------------------------
Wake up to this! Keep your fingers crossed all that 401K we've been working so hard on isn't completely flushed down the toilet. See Hubby and I thought we were being smart and, gasp, responsible by loading up our 401Ks now, while we don't have kids, in prep for not having any spare dimes when we do have kids. How foolish we were! Completely crazy to be respon-si-bibble. It's pointless, especially with commercials on the tv telling me that the creditors will take $1,200 on a $7,000 debt and settle. What gives?! I do everything the tele tells me.

In other news that doesn't make me want to cash in and keep all my money in a jar in my yard, this is the most amazing invention ever that I need right now. Such style and usability! Need it! Neeed. Especially where we're heading in just a few short days!! Ahh! I just can't contain my excitement. And time can't travel any faster for me now.

I finished A Movable Feast last night. A must read. I don't even like Hemingway and it read so completely unlike his novels that I just ate it up. Wonderful. Such interesting stories and now I'm completely compelled to find a good biography of Zelda Fitzgerald. There were so many anecdotes, and you could tell ole Papa could hardly tolerate her, but he made her seem so much more human than pure crazy. I could feel a tug there, with what I could identify to her. Us crazy women have to stick together, right?

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Currently writing up our Paris itinerary while Hubs looks up torture museums in London. You know, the way it should be.

feel the word, I feel it

I think it's important to have goals. Mini-goals. Big-time goals.

I think success is so much more natural coming if you present an easy path for it to reach you.

Here are my goals for this Winter.

-Keep up our tennis. We're scoping a couple of indoor courts incredibly close to our house for during the chilly months. I would LOVE it if we could get decent enough in our serves and hits (or Hub's kill shots as he likes to call them) that we could play in scrambles with other couples. Just for fun. Play a little tennis for a few hours, work up a good beer thirst. You know! Fun!

-Get back to my piano lessons. It was coming, albeit painfully sometimes, but it was coming. I still have a couple of pieces memorized. I can get back to playing around and figuring our some chords on my own. Play my scales. Ugh. I hate scales. But I came a nice little ways and I shouldn't just let it go to pot.

-Don't let my yard go totally to the shitter. I worked so hard this Spring and Summer and I'm about to start working hard this Fall to put it to bed. I really don't want to start off at the same place. Hello! Do we remember the poison ivy fiasco? Could anybody even read what I was writing back then?

-Go see my Grandmother. I have to. I have to. I have to. I have to. If I keep saying it enough, maybe it will happen. I have to. I have to.

Feel like my soul has turned into steele

Things I think are weird lately:

(In a good way), when Hurricane Ike blew through town, this hideous thing finally got knocked down. Big ole pine tree just fell right through it. Was the talk of church. Someone said "God's will be done."

My bag of baby carrots melted. I always, daily, eat an apple and some baby carrots. Got to get that fiber, those vitamins, etc. Every day. It's a really good thing that I like carrots and apples so dang much. I mean really. Every day. But it's good for you. And I like the way health feels so. But anyway I bought my bag of carrots yesterday and put them in the fridge. Moved them this morning into the work fridge. Pulled them our for a snack and they were melted! Melted. Like there is a puddle of orange carrot juice in the bottom of the bag. So weird. Do I still eat them? Do I toss them? I mean the rest look okay but I in no way will touch the ones on the bottom. Too gross. Too melty.

I don't understand men and mustaches. I mean they just generally don't work. Really unless you're post 50s years old. Husband has a beard 999% of the time (bc I won't let him shave it for fear of not recognizing him and thus being forced to accidentally cheat on my Husband). But when any motorcycle festival or Halloween comes around he magically becomes TUT, the mustache guy. He shaves everything off except this dramatic handle bar mustache. It's a riot. I'll bring a picture later. The cyclists love it. They really think it's real. Tut, not unlike Burt Reynolds, is a force to be reckoned with. But now suddenly an old friend Stewart is sporting a 'stache. We told him, again, Burt Reynolds was calling. He only smirked at the joke. It's like I could understand if we were still in the phase of ironic trucker hats of the early 2000s but again. Move on. It's terrible!

Why people still think it's crazy to think a mom of 5 under 18 year old children won't have a hard time being VP. I'm sorry. aren't half her children still nursing or something? Sexist? Hardly. Truthiness. Exactly! (Have you signed up for phone banking for your candidate yet? Get off your butt! The time is nigh!)

This just blows my mind...FREAK! Criss Angel is so nasty! And that beard. AHHH NASTY! We get it! You're mind is freaky! You're beard is freaky! You date women with freaky large boobies! We get it! Stop it! STOP NOW!

THIS


Or

THIS


Jeez I feel like my head is going to explode. And what's with the handcuff jewelry? Is it because he's a magician? Is it like a Harry Houdini tribute or something? There's just something also very weird about men who wear too much jewelry a la Criss Angel. Now don't get me wrong, I have crushed on some hotties in the jewelry dept. but come on. I don't even wear that much jewelry. And I wear A LOT of jewelry.

T. Boone Pickens. Who is this guy?!?! (The cultural reference is the best.)

I'd love to turn you on

What a news day. Goodness. Sitting this morning after so many sweetly fantastical phantasmagoric dreams, robe on, freezing from the cool 50s temps and leaving all the windows open last night, savoring my coffee, it was like the world blew up over the weekend.

Maybe that's a little harsh.

But still. It's why I refuse to listen to anything but This American Life over the weekend. News is bad for the soul. I am I am I am mantra. Anyway this morning. What is it like, Lehman Bank closes, Morgan Stanley closes. David Foster Wallace dies over the weekend. The Hurricane. A bit of a mess indeed.

The good news from the weekend is our Friday night impromptu dinner party was a hit. Thanks to Casillas, I must now definitely get an iphone. Pandora anywhere I want? Hello! And an open invitation to stay at a friend's house in Grand Cayman? Hello!

Then it was college football and Scrabble Saturdays. Hubs wanted to be well rested to learn the abridge history of the Presbyterian church (not such a light swallow) and then tennis and grilled steaks and ain't life grand Sundays.

Now it's time to prepare for our trip. Husband picked up Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, which is wonderful and all about living in Paris in the Fall, and perfect timing for our trip. It reminds me of so many times I've had in France and abroad at all and we're heading to NY and London too and I'm just so excited to show him my favorites cities.

It is truly spectacular to travel with the one you love. And I have new gray leather boots to celebrate. They're to die for!

It all comes down to the seasons. At what point ends the season of youth?
I know several people will be mourning our loss of Mr. DFW. Barrett, did you notice the Infinite Jest references in Y: The Last Man? Alas, poor Yorick. I still don't understand why people are hesitant to read Y because it's a comic. It's ridiculous. It's wonderful. But people thought I was ridiculous for reading IJ. Lugging that behemoth book all over England and France all those years ago. I can't say the book changed me, as much as I know it has changed some of you all, but it was a great read. Challenging where I needed to be challenged. It's too bad that I see it as such a symbol, or should I say symptom, for where my life turned off the page and great relationships I had, I realized, were not so great at all.

Had I not listened, not taken the advice and bought the book, there's really no telling which East I would have turned to, instead of West. There were other books. Now Infinite Jest is all but tinged in sadness and regret and what a shame. What waste.

I've been living in the right place

Goodness gracious. I need to get outside and walk around. Isn't it terrible to say, but everything is so boring today. My normal blogs are boring, my normal work is boring, my made up chores are boring, I am boring! Ha ha.

Whatever. Nothing that a little pink champagne, chocolate chip banana bread, and fabric buying after work won't cure. I love being a lady!

And I have a new Louis bag! And it just makes my year!

Something my dearest girlfriend always said, Lingerie Liz for those in the know, "When life is dull, go all trashy with it! How else do you think my life is so grand?" I miss that girl on a daily basis.

-------------------------

I wish I had a sister getting married to be girly and silly and stupid with. I wish Brent lived closer so he and his lady could come eat roasted meats with us on our china. I wish I could still get away with the wild clothes of my youth. God playing dress up was so much fun. But I can't. I just cleaned out about 80 lbs of clothing from days of yore. I tried them all on and just laughed at how ridiculous I looked (present not past, mind you). Ha.

There are things one has to give up in adulthood that would make it seem less fun. But really, all the therapy is obviously not working, the makeup has started to run and you look like a clown, trends are for teens, and, gasp, sadly, so are music scenes.

Flash to scene around Labor Day weekend and

Telling a girlfriend the infamous Cory Branan story (send all references to Liz, as usual), and she telling me the infamous Ben Nichols story, I decided that I am so glad to be out of all that mess. Fayetteville became rampant with stds, source sadly known, and it doesn't help that it's all 19 year olds passing that shit around. A grown woman just can not compete with 18-20 year old girls. They hit 21, it's all fair game. But that time period in between, that precious time where girls actually need guys to go and do for them. Oh it's fun to watch, knowing now what we were really all up to then. But it's just so ugh. So gross. So vile. To think that men older than you choose to be with girls ten years your junior is just foul. Wasn't at the time, mind you, but we were all showgirls then anyway. Bat your eyelashes, get a beer. Throw the over the shoulder doe-eyed glance, get a beer. Flip your hair, get a beer. It so wasn't rocket science.

But what's funny is after all this time, guys still fall for it. All The Time.

It won't be the Hadron Collider that ends the world. But the predictability of dudes. Maybe I should say of single dudes. Of creepy dudes. Of every other dude but mine. Because mine, he's a bad mama-jama!

Ha! Happy Fritag everyone. It's almost time to leave! Forever!

I'll tear my heart out, before I get out

Remember being in elementary school and all those plays and singing performances you always had to do?

One of my favorites was 5th-ish grade? 3rd grade? I can't remember and I don't even remember why I was up there (we were all dressed as characters important to American history). But I remember Tommy, the boy I had an uber crush on, was dressed like Abe Lincoln and he stood next to me and at some point, I do believe, he intentionally let his hand brush mine.

Anyway we sang a lot of songs. A lot. The Amber Waves of Grain song, We Shall Overcome, some song about exploring the moon, I don't remember what all. But my favorite and still kinda is, (all from a 4th grader's memory, so spare me):

My country 'tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the Pilgrims' pride,
From every mountainside,
Let freedom ring.

And that's only 'cause you can't sing John Baptist Philouza. Or it might be because those are easy enough lyrics and tunes to remember/sing.

Anyway. Good times. God Bless.

Watch this until your eyeballs fall out and roll across the floor.

Weezy Wee!

This is awesome. God could he be any cuter?

You can rely on me, honey

A sweeter side of NY.

So I had to run work errands and the girls were wanting a sweet treaty. Solution? Voila! It's a cupcake bakery. That's it. Cupcakes. Could life be more perfect? We had lemon cupcakes instead of cake at our wedding because it's what one should do. I have a cupcake stand even though I can't bake, note I said bake, not cook. I would serve cupcakes in a frilly pink apron to all the kids in the neighborhood with my hair all flipped out and sugary pink lipstick on were that not a creepy post-modern throwback. I made my moma walk 5 miles on a broken knee to find the Magnolia Bakery one time when we went (sorry mom, it was supposed to be just right there!)

Cupcakes are one of the most perfect foods. The cupcakes at Cupcakes on Kavanaugh are delish. Too sweet. Too heavy. They really leave you in a sugar coma afterwards, but really, isn't that what life is all about?

I had the Reese's peanut butter cake (peanut butter chocolate cake with peanut butter whipped frosting, Jay-sus), and also bought the red velvet with vanilla frosting (Hubs personal fav), chocolate with vanilla frosting and double vanilla. They're more tame at work. In the past I've had the Moon Pie cupcake. They've had Oatmeal Cream Pie, Grasshopper, Key Lime, Ghiradelli, others. Do you need to know more? No, you don't. Go now. Go. Go!

You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel

I just can't decide if I like My Morning Jacket or not. Something about their lazy lackadaisical attitude really appeals to me some days and then makes me gag others. And you know sometimes I want to hear a 10 minute guitar solo, but most times, I don't.

God, I feel amazing. The sleep of queens. The sleep of ages. It's a wonderful life!

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A while ago, probably at least a year or two, my dear friend Brenticus, who works in books, and sends me lots and lots of free books!, sent me The Beach, as made famous in 2000 by Leonardo DeCapricock's movie. So I read the book and it was excellent. A really good, tight, read. I finished it and thought, you know I saw The Beach when it came out and I have absolutely no memory of it other than Leo sucks and Tilda Swinton rocks. So I put it on my neverending Netflix queue. Again it was a while back. It just came up and I watched it last night.

The Beach is the worst movie ever made. Totally ridiculous. Completely terrible. Terrible terrible terrible. Leo looks like a runt, a shrimp, a schmuck. Tilda is still cool but the way it's all presented with the soundtrack of incredibly dated tracks more prominent than the dialogue. So like how so many of those late 90s movies targeted towards my age group at the time were springboards more for bands than for actors. (See Brokedown Palace. See 10 Things I Hate About You. See 200 Cigarettes. See Mod Squad. etc etc etc and I mean I like bad movies. They're a part of who I are.).

See not Rushmore. See not Seven. See not Being John Malkovich. See not Boogie Nights. See not the best movie ever made, Deep Blue Sea. See how I played Jenga in Switzerland with the guy who wrote Deep Blue Sea. See how he was a fairly normal dude, self confessed too obsessed with Shark Week on Discovery Channel, looking to make a buck. Sign me up!

Enjoy!

Dreamer in My Dreams

Wilco radio is playing me some good upbeat tunes today. Today is a much better day than yesterday. It has to be right? I'm still riding the momentum wave of coming home, Hubs understanding me, us running off to play an hour of sweaty run around tennis (fun!), and then grilling sweet salt steaks, knitting, sleeping sleeping sleeping. I was deep into it by 9pm. It was perfect. All the windows in the house open. Cool rain mist (that turned into swamp sludge this morning but you know...).

So.

I'm still behind in work. But I feel better about it. My hair is growing out and I feel better about that. I'm ready for Hogs v. Texas. I'm ready to ride my bike. I'm ready to play more tennis! Talk about fun! My forearm is so sore but we were getting it! It's so much better, our quality of life, to be in such better health than ever. It's good. It's really good.

Put your hands on the wheel, let the golden age begin

OMFUG

I was so in no way to be made to laugh today. Work stuff sucks it sometimes!

But I think I'm better now. And now I really am because I just remembered what else wonderful this weekend brought me, I'm gonna do it! I'm reaching for the stars so I can fall on a cloud (or whatever the hell that Chi-Town Kanye Chris Martin song is talking about, I mean Kanye and Chris Martin, together, really? REALLY?) I'm getting an iphone!

I need it. I.need.it. I NEEEEEEEEEEEEEED it. Really. For reals. Need.

So anyway Hubs is looking up when my cell phone plan expires and then I can get one. I played with enough of them this weekend that I'm no longer clumsy finger phobic. I really think I can do it! Plus I'm not the only non-tech savvy gal pal I know who also wants one. And that makes me feel better, always, being part of a majority. ha.

Anyway so relieved this mother f-ing day is almost over for me. Seriously. Then it's me times on the bike, grilled steaks, and Scrabble. Perfect.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine

Fun weekend. Fun to see parents. Hubs got golf clubs, Argenta snappy seafood, Hogs tailgating with friends, Cookie Monster cupcakes, and a zoo trip for his birthday. I found out I'm not in Cosmo after all. Thank God. The world can roll on. Ride bikes this afternoon. Sink down into silk comfort this evening. I'm so easily frustrated and tired right now.

Husband, I'm ready to disappear with you. And grill steaks!

these visions of Johanna are all that remain

Found another Bob Dylan song that doesn't make me want to hang myself on a low hook, prison style.

An alternate take of Visions of Johanna, the Bootleg series Vol 7. Pretty funky, gypsy funky, honkey tonk style. Much better than the original. Much.

Christ hell is it not 4pm yet? I am losing my mind. I got blisters on my fingers!

When Your Highhorse Dies

Wolf Parade is coming to Little Rock!!

The Rev Room is getting all kinds of fun, good shows. !!!, Apples in Stereo, Mates of State, etc etc. I'm so excited!!! So is Hubs!

And then totally go get a free Obama/Biden sticker!

Good Day Sunshine!

If the girl in the front doesn't come in to work tomorrow then I have to work on my off day. TOTALLY AWESOMEICAL!!

Anyway so I'm watching this in a 1 min 51 sec break that I'm giving myself before getting back at it.



Because who doesn't want to bone Eddie Izzard, in any form or fashion?


All I'm thinking is this hardwork will pay off. Either I get to go home and drink beers and eat Sloppy Joes with Husband and Piper and then go to work tomorrow anyway OR I get to do all that and not go to work and work in my swamp yard (thanks Gustav, wink!). Either way, that means I win, right?

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Ok, I know you don't love me but you're still thinking of me.

The more I think about it, I know it's true

The girl in the front has to come to work. I filled in for her 3 days last week, 1 or 2 days this week (I can't remember) and I'll be off tomorrow (Yippee!!). Problem is, I'm about 3 weeks behind in work and I really can't help it. And whatever.

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This is exactly the kind of thing I would have been crazy about as a high schooler- college cadet. Had cool things like this been around. But they weren't. Ha. Not really.

----------------------
We studied Eve, Mother of All, last night. What a wonderful experience. The elderly women side of things was a bit distracting, and there was one straight A-er who had to speak all the time, know all the answers, but the discussion was great. The blank reading (I'll get to this in a second) of the "2nd" creation story was very informative, and all in all Hubs and I had a really good time. I wish we had more time to discuss Lillith, but I'll save that for me and Piper tonight. Hagar is up next. Bring on the Van Hagar jokes. Then Jezebel and Delilah. Good stuff!

For those who don't know, and I am still learning about this and find it very interesting, us Presbyterians (USA) practice blank reading of the Bible. We're not fundamentalists (hahaha even that idea is fairly hilarious) and we believe that the reason the world is, and always has been, so clouded in it's understanding of Christianity, the world around us, other cultures, is for all the cultural baggage we always bring the the table. And it's about impossible not to. So you meditate (an Eastern word for prayer, wink!) to clear your mind then attempt reading the passage. The more we can be blank, the more clearly messages can come to us.

Which I love, the simplicity of this all, bc it's so deep, man. It's so authentic and real. It's not saying be this, or act that, but be nothing, act nothing, and let the path become clear to you. I just eat this up with a spoon.

It's so positive to me.

Gov. Palin is MILFalicious

Imagine this poster as a scroll down, bc oooh yeah baby, I like to scroll down.



And then imagine your sir prize!

Last cigarettes, all you can get

Except this RE-DONK-U-LOUS, just to make myself clear.

I've been to Redwood

I've been decidedly mum on the topic of Gov. Palin. And honestly because I think the topic speaks enough for itself.

Plus I enjoy giving Husband topics for dinner.

Plus plus, I'm getting too old for the negative anymore. I feel like the more I delve into this seedy ridiculous underworld, the more I realize how I'm straying from my traditional Dem roots. If we're not careful here, I'll become one of those protesters at the G8, and Lord knows I ain't got the time. I'll never vote Independent. But I see myself straying from the flock and off to find my own.

And it makes me sad to see how the Democratic party just isn't liberal enough for me. And I'm fairly, surprisingly conservative in many of my views. And I'm glad we're taking and talking the high ground. But I'm ready for some changes.

And so coming to this conclusion this weekend, not even knowing where I stand in my own right, and looking for other options for my time, it makes me sad that I'm just as easily ready to criticize Gov. Palin as I am many of my dearly beloved Dems. It's been coming but I've just refused to see it until now. Maybe I don't need a draft to get my ass to Nova Scotia after all.


You see, I've been a miner for a heart of gold.

He's back jack shooting smack call him if you wanna get down

Candy smokes. Remember those?

So Husband is very fond of his Little Caesar's Pizza Pizza. So much in fact he claims that's why we moved to Little Rock. So it's no surprise that he's always keeping me in check on my Lil' Skeezers facts. LC's Wikipedia page? Got it. Franchise information? Done. Late 90's Fayetteville Pizza Wars? Done. And then finally this, Blammo! Or as I like to annoy him with, ZING-AH!

Ah dear Pizza Pizza. Where would my childhood days of dad's turn to cook dinner be without you?

Be patient and I'll let you see my Carrot Rope

Wilco radio has come back to be my favorite Pandora station. Matt Suggs, Whiskeytown, Wilco, some Pavement (god Malkamus, sometimes I just hate you), Ryan Adams (same goes for you too), but you know, it's rainy all week (thanks Gustav!) and I figure, well why not?

Plus it's a nice slow ending to a wound up weekend. We thought my dad had had another heart attack on Sunday. Threw our shit in a bag and zoomed up to the farm. We're so lucky, so lucky it was either the flu or food poisoning. But with dad, I won't take any chances any more. I didn't take it seriously enough the first go round. His heart surgery, detox, staying in the President Clinton suite at UAMS (he was an important dude there in his time). I was so selfish. Wrapped up in sorrow and a relationship that, well, was slowly strangling my will to love. And I didn't think about it because I was told not to think about it. In that way parents don't want you to worry, you know.

I won't ever make that mistake twice.

-------------------
Anyway, when I was little, and on rainy days, my dad had recorded a bunch of Looney Tunes cartoons that he'd recorded and he taught me how to work the VCR, so that I would sit, fascinated, little 1983 me, and would watch them on a loop.

Anyway there's a couple of my favorites, the more surreal of the bunch, that I think what inspires my love of surreal comics today*. First is Duck Amuck, really just the best of the bunch.



Really just as good as it gets in cartoons, old and new. Except SuperJail.



PS Not in it's entirety, probably NSFW, but then again, depends on where you work, and you need headphones.

What's Opera, Doc? is also a great one. Enjoy below:




Anyway back to it. The first day back from Labor Day weekend is always hard. Coffee anyone?


**Side note, have you heard they're making Kick-Ass into a movie...with Nick Cage!! Bain to movie watcher's existance everywhere!! And then how I'm reminded of Mardi Gras where Nick Cage was king and what a giant man he is, especially in the all black leather ensemble complet avec black leather cape and a high Edwardian collar of dyed black ostrich feathers. Hang on, I'm sure I can find a picture somewhere. Yup. There it is. Saw it with me own eyes.