10 Disjointed Thoughts

~  New phrase: “maus potato” (or for those of you who don’t remember the days when there was nothing for the right hand to click, “mouse potato”): A person who spends a great deal of time playing on a computer.
~  It’s so wonderful to get up to find that the dirty dishes are in the dishwasher, the trash has been taken out, and the coffee has been made.
~  It’s lonely to go to your computer in the morning only to find that no one has updated their blog. Kind of like your friends forgetting to say happy birthday.
~  The road crew outside didn’t wake me up this morning. That’s nice, but it means the road still isn’t being finished.
~  I woke up cold this morning. It’s time to put the blanket on the bed. Yay!
~  The garage still hasn’t called about my car.
 I’m going to put post-its in the bathroom because someone keeps using my towel.
~  I wish I were in Vienna today. It’s a perfect day for vanilla tea and a pastry at Cafe Diglas.


Okie Blogger Roundup

Sorry this post is a few days late. As soon as we got home I really started going downhill fast.

All thanks go to Mike Hermes at Okiedoke for pulling this thing together. Of course, he had a lot of help and those people are to be thanked as well. I had such a good time meeting some of my favorite local bloggers. It was kind of peculiar, because it was like I already knew them. The biggest kick in the head was meeting Monty from The Daily Bitch. She’s exactly as she comes off on her blog. No pretenses, she’s the genuine article and you just gotta love her. Brian at An Audience of One was great to meet.

There is a Flickr page where you can go see some of the pictures that were taken. They’re being posted a little at a time and I hope to get my photos up before the weekend, ducky porn and all. Oklahoma bloggers are good people. In the picture, from left to right are Nettl, myself, Monty and Brian.

I’ve already told Mike that I intend to get involved in a more hands-on capacity next year. I wanna be one of the movers and shakers! And I want to get a lot of these people a whole lot better.

Constant Craving

John Sadowski asks what our secret food cravings are. I think this merits our absolute honesty, guilt and sin be damned. I have no problem telling you that I love white gravy with tuna in it poured lavishly over torn-up pieces of toast. Yep, good old S.O.S. Sometimes I crave it so badly, I can’t imagine ever eating anything else. I grew up a little on the poor side, and this was comfort food.

This reminds me of the time Ville and I changed the words of “Constant Craving” by KD Lang from “Constant craving never ends” to “Instant gravy by Uncle Ben’s”. Sing it sometime. It works.

So head on over to John’s place and make your confession. And have a drink for me; it’s going to be a while before I can imbibe.


“Let them eat foie gras…”

PBS has just hit its second strike with me. For the past month or so they have been advertising a special on Marie Antoinette. Do you know how difficult it is for me to retain mental notes these days? Somehow, I hung onto this one and at 8:00 last night I settled back to watch the show. Instead, American Masters came on, with a ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen saying that the Marie Antoinette program would be played at midnight. What’s up with that? Of course, I stayed up for it and taped it for Nettl, who can’t stay up that late and be good for work the next day.

Damn! Every time I read about the French Revolution, or watch anything about it, I want so bad for it to end differently. I want to shake Louis by the balls and say, “Just get to the Austrian border, ya maroon! Forget the silver, forget the wines. Just go!” But he doesn’t listen and they always get caught just 40 miles short of liberation after a 200-mile trip.

It was a fine documentary that made the revolution clearer and easier to understand. No mean feat considering that it’s one of the most confusing series of events in history. I’ve always loved Marie Antoinette. I knew she never made that crack about eating cake and I feel for the terrified 14-year old girl that was sent to marry the future king of France. This show revealed nothing new, but it did show Antoinette for the naive, manipulated girl that she was and actually laid the finger of blame upon her mother where it rightfully belongs. Empress Maria Theresa used her 16 children like pawns on a chessboard with one thing in mind: to rule the world. The show owned up to Antoinette’s excesses (what teenaged girl, however, wouldn’t go for all the pretty clothes if she was basically given limitless credit?), but it also paid tribute to the wisdom and dignity she acquired as her world fell apart at the seems.

I admit it. I resent the French for executing her and Louis. Did I say resent? Detest might be a better word. Don’t get your bowels in an uprooar over that. I don’t mean the French people as a country, or as individuals, but the bloodthirsty rabble who spread vicious propaganda about her with regicide as their only ambition. I’m actually holding a grudge and I hope they’ve all received their karma.


The Laziest Birthday Ever

11:30 - Woke up, groaned.
12:30 - Made a mistake-filled entry (I have since edited it).
1:00 - Had steak and eggs at IHOP with a large tomato juice on ice.
2:00 - Planted myself on the bed to watch the 4-disk set of Wings that Joel bought for me.
12:00 - Caught up on my favorite blogs.
And that’s exactly what I wanted to do today.
I’ll write about the Blogger Roundup tomorrow.


Morning After the Roundup

What a great weekend to schedule a birthday!

Here are some of the cool points about the Roundup in OKC yesterday:

  • It’s my birthday
  • Nettl’s taking me to IHOP
  • I now qualify for the senior menu
  • I’m hungover
  • Actually, I’m still drunk
  • I had a blast
  • Monty’s butt is not huge
  • Geeks were dancing
  • I joined in
  • There are pictures, which I’ll post later
  • After I eat something and take a nap
  • I was the only person who had an old-fashioned, non-digital camera
  • Everyone noticed
  • I hope everyone still likes me now that they’ve seen Mozartballs
  • I hope they liked me before they saw it
  • I won a ball cap and a mauspad
  • Nettl won a $20 gift card to Barnes & Noble
  • I didn’t win a blogger award
  • That’s two years in a row
  • I will next year, or I’m changing my name to Susan Lucci
  • I want the rubber ducky, damn it
  • I really liked Kurt and his wife
  • Monty goes without saying
  • She’s a kick in the head
  • You should’ve been there
  • Dustbury has groupies.

Over and out.


Bad Call, PBS!

I have just experienced Warholis Interuptus.

While watching the 2-part American Masters: Andy Warhol program on PBS, I hoped that at some point an interview with the artist would be shown. The interviewees were great, and the show is astounding, but numerous people talking about Warhol felt imbalanced. I wanted to hear something from the man himself. (Although an actor, imitating Warhol’s voice, read from his diaries in certain segments, it still wasn’t an actual interview.) Lo and behold, my wish was granted as the end credits began to roll. I heard about 6 seconds of the interview when suddenly, the screen split in two and PBS began a promo spiel that lasted until the last 3 seconds of the credits.

If I were the director or writer, I’d be raising holy ned about now. I know enough about film to understand that what goes on during the end credits is often the “big red bow” that ties the entire piece together. The writer put that stuff there for a reason; it’s not an afterthought. A film does not begin and end with what most people consider to be the most entertaining part, that is, the body. The top credits and the end credits are the appetizer and dessert. It’s there for a reason, especially when there is more content to be considered.

It’s pathetic that a network that boasts that it is based on supporting the arts will cut into one of their own programs in this way…and on a piece about the arts. And why? So that I could see and hear promo about the Andy Warhol program and how I can buy it. Excuse me, but what about your patrons? If we send in our pledges, why in hell should we have to buy the DVD to see the piece as the writer and director intended me to see it? I went to the PBS site and left a comment–polite, but to the point.

Rant over.


Living Artfully

When my TSH levels drop, all I can really do is sit (or lay) and think. There’s not much else until I make an appointment with the vampires to give them a vial of my blood. Still in search of the perfect balance, my doctor then prescribes a different dose of my meds. This lab-doctor-pharmacy process takes a few days and until I get the phone call from my pharmacist, my mobility and motivation are at a premium. Communication dwindles because I stammer and I can’t access my vocabulary. Also, my short-term memory goes kaput and I can’t remember the simplest of things, thus, I am a huge consumer of Post-Its. Added to this is a crankiness that overcomes me, mixed with a dose of depression. I grow cynical, suspicious, jealous, traits that are not typical of me. I am a communicator to my very core and I’m not very graceful when I lose that ability. The telly gets a workout when I’m in this condition...

18 is a Wonderful Age

Happy Birthday to Lauren on the occasion of your 18th birthday!

When Nettl and I first met, Lauren was 11. I thought I’d have that talkative, curious, bright little girl for a long time, but here she is all grown up and getting ready to go to school in France after graduating high school in May. Oof!

Today is a little sad for me because I know that she’s just 2 feet from walking out the door into her own life. Gods! I remember being 18 like it was just a few years ago…

Listen up moms and dads out there: Life is brief. After the 11th birthday the time flies by so fast you don’t even notice it, so enjoy your children while they’re children because it won’t last long.

I love you Lauren, and it doesn’t matter how old you get, I’ll always be your Wolfie.


Relief (and an Update)

Not the best news, but certainly not the worst. I was wakened this morning by a phone call from the garage in Sand Springs. The mechanic seems to think the problem with my car is a valve and a loose timing belt, not an oil leak into the cylinders. That means I’m looking at a $525 bill instead of $1500. Whew! Now I have to dig up $500 dollars somewhere. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

In other news, I cannot find lodging in OKC for this weekend. Driving home at midnight isn’t the worst thing in the world—it’s only 60 miles—but it would have been nice to come home the next morning. Oh well, we need that money for the car anyway.

Who’s going to be there? Speak up!

UPDATE (2:25pm): Just got another call and it’s not good. It wasn’t the timing belt, so he’s going to have to take the cylinder head off. It’s going to be more around $900 now. Oof. Where am I going to get that?!?



There are two times of the year that I find myself going up and down the stairs all day and evening. It’s during spring and autumn. That’s when I have to fidget with the heating/AC system to keep the house comfortable. It’s too warm to be cool in the fall, and too cool to be warm in the spring, and the variables within different times of the day and night make things really complicated for me...


The Great American Roundtable Entry

Thinking I had another week to come up with the Great American Roundtable entry, I had wine with dinner and afterward, while Lynette and I watched Project Runway. Then, my lower back still killing me from steam-cleaning our 3000 sf house and moving us upstairs to the master bedroom suite, I took a Tylenol 3 to ease the pain. When Lynette went to bed I came to my computer to check up on email and such, only to find out that it’s my turn to flex my creative prowess. Consequently, I am devoid of thoughts, ideas, and inspiration. This can’t be right. Wine loosens the imagination, or so the greats tell us...

Gruesome Worms of Hate

It was one of those days from the minute my feet hit the floor this morning. It’s funny how things only get worse as a day like this progresses. For instance:

The coffee I needed so badly couldn’t be made until the dishwasher was emptied before I could wash the sink of dirty dishes that had been left to me. “Good Morning!”

But the irritation of that lessened as I tended to political faux pas and work requests that I didn’t feel up to dealing with...


When It's Right

It was a nice weekend. Micah arrived on Friday evening and we all sat in the livingroom talking and laughing with each other. It’s so wonderful having him home. I didn’t get to raise him, so I’ve always felt terribly cheated, and I lived in constant sadness and guilt as I watched him grow up 4 states away. But now he’s here, and I’m so proud of him. Nettl and I asked him to live with us so that he can forget about working for the man and just really throw himself into his music and creativity and see what happens. He’ll be working with me on my Alla Breve projects too, something for which I’m very grateful. He certainly couldn’t be with people who accept and love him more.

On Saturday evening, Joel, Micah and I went to Ville’s and sat on her patio until nearly three in the morning, drinking and having fun–I have the mosquito bites and backache to prove it (guess I’ll have to start sitting in a patio chair instead of the deck bench, although I know steam-cleaning the entire house didn’t help).

Today, Nettl and I hid out in our room watching movies on FX and Lifetime. One film, “The Mermaid Chair” caused us to enter into one of our famous philosophical conversations, this time about soul mates. The “silver screen” has done much to ill-prepare girls for relationships, I believe. Young women have been taught that perfect love will bring them their hearts’ desires and deliver to them a “happy ever after” future. Some people mistakenly believe that finding their soul mate will bring them a blissfully happy life with that person. The truth is, however, a soul mate is most often the one person who acts as sandpaper in order to smooth off our rough edges. Not that the relationship cannot be happy, for they usually are. But expectations of “perfect” love cause a great deal of heartache for a lot of young people.

When we meet that RIGHT person, the experience is heady, downright crazy, and we imagine that once we’re actually together, life will be a wondrously exciting experience. In this state, we never look ahead to paying the phone bill or cleaning the toilets. We’re too busy listening to the bells in our head and noticing how much brighter everything looks. That’s all well and good–and something that no one should miss–but too many couples fall apart when the first rush is over and life has to get down to being what it is. But I’d rather live an “ordinary” life with the right person than an exciting one with the wrong person. But maybe I can say that now that I’m facing 55 in a couple of weeks. My dad once told me, “When it all comes down to it, we marry for companionship.” There’s a lot to be said for a comfortable, secure companionship with one’s soul mate. The home is happy, the other family members are doing their things, and we’re watching stupid made-for-television movies.
When it’s right, it’s right.


A Very Special Birthday

Today is not only the birthday of my dear friend, Paul, it also marks the 21st anniversary of our friendship. Twenty-one years! When we met, Paul was right out of high school and I had to buy his beer for him. He was an aspiring writer and I a budding composer. We became the core group of La Boheme, a troupe of friends who, despite growth pains both as individuals and as a family, and fallings-out and fallings-in, have never ceased to adore and celebrate each others’ creative quirks.

The night that I met Paul (the eve of his birthday) seems like it was only about 5 years ago. Since then, he has found his soul mate (if I recall, it’s their anniversary too), moved to Atlanta, began a business in historic restoration, and has made a name for himself in his community. He was also my Best Man at my and Nettl’s Holy Union Service in 2001.

This may make me sound like an old fart (I was 34 when we met), but I’m proud of who Paul has become. So happy birthday Paul. I love you. And now that our friendship is old enough to drink, I wish we could be together tonight for a pitcher of your oh, so perfect martinis!


My New Old Space

Here’s a picture of my new desk area. Well, it’s my old desk area with a new desk. It’s set in the bedroom alcove created by a dormer window that looks out over the front yard and cul-de-sac below. The window faces east, so the blinds stay down the entire morning, unfortunately. The walls look green, but they’re actually butter yellow...


I Feel Great!

I’ve caught up on my sleep and caught up with my family. I’m taking the week to get things ready for my son’s arrival and a few days to enjoy with him uninterrupted, and then I’ll get back to work. Meantime, we’re busy today moving sh*t upstairs.

Have a great Labor Day. I know I will. With all of this moving going on, it’s comforting to know I have Trumer Pils in the fridge!

Don’t you think the guy on the far right looks like John Malkovich?


Nominated in 2 Categories

This humble blog has been nominated in two categories for the 2006 Okie Blog Awards, which will be handed out at the Okie Blogger Round-up later this month. The categories are: Best Blog Layout (with hefty thanks to Deni who helped me design and utilize it) and Best Culture Blog. I couldn’t be more pleased — and surprised. And I’m honored because, as Monty at The Daily Bitch asks, “…are we the only state that has a hash pipe on its emblem?”

Thanks to everyone who nominated me. Hope I win something, but I’m up against some really formidable competition.

C'est Fini!

The web project is done and I came in right on deadline. Tonight I uploaded the last of the pages. There may be a small problem here and there with a link or two (with nearly 600 pages it would be nearly impossible to be perfect), but those are small issues that can be fixed within minutes.

I’ve decided that Alla Breve is beginning a tradition: Regardless of the size of a site, or how many people are in the office (when we have one, that is), champagne will be offered to the staff–1 bottle per every 3 people–and on the cork will be written the client name and the date of completion. Tonight it’s just Nettl and me, and the cork has been popped.

If you’re an art lover, go to Art Experts Inc. It’s packed with information and thousands of images. These people know their art!



Two Lonely Brain Cells

Sometimes one little me just is not enough. Two months of working 12-16 hours every day, not going to bed until sunrise and neglecting my family, friends, and personal needs is finally taking its toll on my health. It now takes everything I have just to get my brain fired enough each day to figure out what the next step to completing this project will be. Even writing this is just about all I can do and it feels like I have two brain cells left that are rolling around trying to find each other to rub up against and get a little cognitive thought going...