More little things

I said earlier I'd do a post of the silly little things I'm thankful for, and here it is. It's nice to keep the little things that make us smile in mind. They help combat the big bad stuff.

1. The Muppets, especially when they're doing something awesome like this (once again Beaker steals the show):








2. Friends








3. Tamales









4. Christmas decorations





5. "All I Want for Christmas Is You"








6. Shiner











7. This bag (that I cannot afford).












8. The Longhorns.












9. Brisket (my dad's is the best; this is not a pic of his brisket).












10. Baking cookies.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love the idea that loved ones come together for no other purpose than just to be together. There's no pretense of religious obligation, or gifts, or patriotism. It's all about evaluating the things in life that you are thankful for and taking a little extra time to appreciate them. It's positive, and, let's face it, the world could use more positivity.

There's also delicious food involved, which is a big bonus. (Shout out to my aunt D's mashed potatoes and both grandmothers' stuffings.)

When I start to feel down, or restless, or just generally dissatisfied, I try to think of the things that I'm grateful for. Thanksgiving came at an opportune time this year, as I had been feeling blue for a couple of weeks prior. So in honor of the holiday, and as a reminder to myself that I am truly blessed, here is what I am thankful for:

1. My family, who love and support me even when I'm a brat and don't deserve it.
2. My friends, who are my family.
3. My health, of which I need to stop taking advantage.
4. My talent, of which I need to take advantage.
5. My independence.

That pretty much covers it. I could be silly and also give thanks for white chocolate mochas, National Cookie Day, "Bad Romance" and the grocery store express lane, but I'll save (the rest) of that for another post.

For now, I'll leave you with this:

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Book Review: "The Help"

My book club's selection this month was "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. It's a story about the lives of white women in 1960's Jackson, Mississippi and the black women who work for them. It's a story about racism, sexism, social heirarchy and violence. But mostly, it's a story about telling a story.

(Before I get any further -- special shout out to our hostess with the mostess for her delicious vegetarian Dilly Chili and caramel cake.)

I won't throw around our English class observations of symbolism, or our discussion of the relationships between female friends and mothers and their daughters. I also won't talk about individualism versus conformity, risk versus reward or the terms of the Southern class system. If you read the book, you'll get into all that yourself.

I will call out a friend of mine, who requested I write fewer book reviews and stick with the funny stuff. To that I offer a compromise (just this one time, though, because I can make it work. After this, buddy, you're S.O.L.)

If you want funny, here are the reasons you should read this book (no set up; no context):

1. He jiggles his hand between his legs, hitching up his knees. "Come on, get you some pecker pie!"

2. I saw that dress four days ago and I knew it looked hussified -- of course she had to pick the one with the low neckline -- but I had no idea what would happen when she stuffed herself inside it. She's popping out like a corn cob in Crisco.

3. "What? He's not supposed to know that I know that he knows about you."

4. Along the bottom of the check, in the little space for the notes, Miss Celia's written the words in pretty cursive handwriting: For Two-Slice Hilly.

5. "I'm sorry, but were you dropped on your head as an infant?"

6. "Mama, God doesn't care what day of the week it is," I say and make for the car before she can ask any more questions.

7. I have never in my life seen a thing like this. Three dozen of em. Pots. Right smack on Miss Hilly's lawn. Almost look like a crowd a people the way some got they lids open talking, some with they lids closed listening.

8. Either you quit beating on me, or I'm gone. And I'm not taking the kids either. Which ain't true, about the kids, but that ought to scare him more than anything.

9. Mother is shaking her head. "Hilly, darling. No young husband wants to come home and see this. Look at your hair. And that..." Mother frowns, peering closer at the cold sore. "That is not attractive, dear."

10. "I tell her to eat my shit."

Whether for the subject matter at the top or the list of funny parts, this is a book worth reading... and best enjoyed with a slice of caramel cake.

Movie Review: "This Is It"

Sorry these posts have been a bit sporadic lately. I'm headed out of town later this week and have been busy as hell trying to get stuff done beforehand. One thing I realized, though, was that I never wrote a movie review for the Michael Jackson's "This Is It," which I saw a couple of weeks ago.


Here's a bit of information for those who don't know me: I'm a HUGE Michael Jackson fan. So much so that when I used to teach at a dance studio (there's another tidbit for you) I would choreograph a recital routine to an MJ song every year without fail. One year I had my little girls do a tap dance to his version of "Rockin' Robin." I also used "Shake Your Body," "Scream," "Smooth Criminal," "Why You Wanna Trip on Me?" and I know I'm forgetting a few others.


So, this review will be in no way unbiased, nuetral or fair. The movie kicks ass because Michael kicks ass and will always be the greatest entertainer who ever lived. The End.

No, not the end.


This documentary is really interesting, regardless of your level of Michael fandom. Of course, I'm speaking as the movie nerd who really loves to watch DVDs with the commentary on so I can retain a whole bunch of information that may or may not come in handy during a game of Trivial Pursuit or Scene It. But I really think everyone will appreciate seeing MJ in his element: on stage.


The man was a freakin' genius. He had so many amazing ideas for these London shows, I'm convinced that the audiences would have been blown away. And the funny thing is, he didn't need any of it. He could have gone on to an empty stage and brought the house down. But that's not how Michael rolled. He was all about the spectacle, and that's definitely what he was going to deliver.


I'm not going to say that MJ was just a regular guy. The dude had issues. But he was an amazing artist and you see it in every second of this film. It's the dancers at the beginning who break down in tears (every single one) when they talk about having the chance to work with him. It's the musicians who change arrangements on a whim for him. It's special effects people, choreographers, producers, technicians, directors and even caterers who are happy to say "how high?" when they're asked to jump... because it's Michael.


Because he kicks ass and will always be the greatest entertainer who ever lived. The End.

What's a girl gotta do to get a jacket over a puddle these days?

I read this thing online today where this girl listed what she believes to be outdated gestures of chivalry. Actually, the term she used was "creepy." I am no doubt a feminist, but there are some things I don't agree with her on. Let's break down her list, shall we?

1. Ordering my meal for me.
I'll give her this one. It's awkward. Unless, of course, you've been dating for a while and you always get the same thing at a certain restaurant so he does it because he knows you'll get it anyway. But even in that case, a quick "that was right, right?" look would be in order.

2. Letting me win at a game.
In my case, this would never be an issue. I'm awesome. And kind of mean. And play for blood. He doesn't have a chance.

3. Using a code term for going to the bathroom.
What? I don't understand. Was this ever a chivalrous gesture? And if so, why?? Do guys think they need to protect us gals from talk of Number Two? It's not like it stops us from complaining about raging cramps in front of them.

4. Pulling out my chair.
This doesn't bother me. It's the standing behind me and trying to help me scoot in that bothers me. Thanks, but I got it.

5. Carrying my purse.
If I'm juggling a bunch of stuff in my arms, a helping hand is quite welcome, actually. But if the purse is the only thing I'm carrying, no assistance is needed.

6. Asking my dad for my hand in marriage.
I haven't asked my dad for permission to do anything since I turned 18. You don't need to, either. (Side note: I get that this is traditional and what not, but you're not marrying my dad. If you just HAVE to chat with him beforehand, it would be in your best interest to include my mom, too. And the conversation should go something like, "I love your daughter and am going to propose, just thought you'd like to know.") One person you SHOULD talk to about this is my sister, who can tell you exactly what ring I want and help you get it so you don't screw that part up. (KIDDING... sort of.)

7. If you're paying for dinner, not letting me put in for tip.
I'm actually ok with this, too. I mostly just offer to be polite.

8. Helping me put my coat on.
I love this. Extra points for you if you do it.

I'm annoyed by hyper-sensitive women who think that just because a man does something polite means he thinks she's incapable. Obviously I can open doors all by myself, but if a guy is there and does it for me... thanks. I'm perfectly capable of walking myself from a building to my car, but if a guy would like to walk with me... ok. If, while we're walking, the guy positions himself closest to the street... further bonus points!! My grandpa and dad do this and I love it. If it's cold out and I don't have a jacket, you go right ahead and offer me yours. I'd be happy to stop being cold.

Of course the days of men jumping to their feet whenever a woman enters a room are over (although, I must confess, I would LOVE to see this. I would pay that woman $100 to walk in, realize she forgot something, walk out, realize she didn't forget something after all, and walk right back in. Also... is it a myth that a man would take off his coat and lay it over a puddle so that a woman could walk without stepping in the water? That's another thing I'd love to see.)

The days of common courtesy should never be over. So guys, you go right ahead.

Important vs. not important

I spent the majority of the past week feeling pretty sorry for myself. Last Thursday, I took the day off from work just because. I had lunch with friends, did some shopping, had coffee with my sister and vegged out at home for the rest of the day. Sounds pretty great, yes?

Well, no.

After the shopping, when I was walking through the parking lot to my car, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings. I stepped into a patch of mud. My flip-flop slid forward, my knees buckled and the next thing I know, I've hit muddy asphalt. My shopping bag has flown three feet away. My purse and its contents are strewn about.

Besides being really embarassing, falling down really hurts. Especially when you land on your right knee. Especially when you land on your right knee when you have bad knees to begin with.

I try to go about my day as normal, but I know the best thing is to elevate and ice down this knee. So that's what I do. (I'll only briefly mention that on this same day I also manage to spill soda all over myself and sob like a little girl for about 10 minutes.)

Since that day one week ago, a gnarly bruise has wrapped itself almost completely around my leg and there's numbness below the kneecap where there's still a bit of swelling. I didn't like that numbness at all, so I went to the doc to see what she thought. She touched my knee, moved my leg around, poked me on bruises and asked if it hurt (YES! What are you, eight???) and finally told me that as long as I wasn't in pain (I wasn't until you started poking bruises, Dr. Jekyll) I should just keep icing it and give it time to heal. If any pain pops up, she'll order and MRI.

This would normally be good news, except "give it time to heal" means I can't do the half-marathon that I've been training for since July. (Confession: The term "training" is used loosely here, seeing as how I haven't done a thing in like a month.) Still, I planned to at least walk the route. But it's not a good idea on a bum knee, especially when my Chicago trip is four days after the race. I don't want to jeopardize that.

So today, one week later, I'm still feeling a bit pathetic. I feel stupid and clumsy for injuring myself like that, and then lazy and guilty for not being able to do the race. My knee is going to be fine, and I still feel sorry for myself.

And then I turn on the TV and 12 people are dead and 31 are injured at Fort Hood and suddenly none of my bullshit matters at all. My thoughts are with the loved ones of those who were hurt or killed.