It's official. Halloween is over.

And so is Thanksgiving.

How can I tell? My yard.

See, today, finally and at long last, I removed the final Autumn and/or Halloween decorations from my yard.

Yes, I am that loser who leaves her holiday decorations up way too late.

Here's my excuse: I had a pair of really, really long window boxes made for under our porch windows, because I am a moron with a death-wish, and I thought they would look cute.

And they do look cute. When they're filled with lush, healthy plants. Which means that in the past year, they've looked cute for all of two days. Do you have any idea how many goddamned plants twenty feet of window boxes can swallow up? Or how much time it takes to buy, bring home, plant, and water said plants?

These are actually rhetorical questions, so I'll answer them myself: 1. lots; and 2. too much.

Let's put it this way; I think Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock got married while I was filling the boxes for the summer display, and now, just when they've filed for divorce, I am finally finishing. And now it's time to get all cute for Christmas. SHIT.

Holy crap, I knew my hair was getting high-maintenance, what with its monthly cut and color appointments, but honestly, now it's like the front of my house needs its bangs trimmed or its lipgloss reapplied about every five fucking minutes.

So anyway, today I finally removed the pumpkins and little light-up ghosts and took down the black icicle lights. I replaced them with white icicle lights and branches with red berries. Greenery and holly boughs and such Martha Stewartisms will follow, once I've rested up.

And just so you know, to get that done will probably take another three weeks, and meanwhile, what isn't little white lights and twigs with red berries is dying yellow and orange and purple chrysanthemums. And if you don't like it, neighbors and internet? You can bite me.

I need a drink.

Poppy emerges from a turkey coma

It wasn't just the turkey. Or the stuffing and gravy. Or the home-made cranberry, cinnamon, and cognac chutney-like crappe I cooked.

It was the pies. All home-made, all with real
lard--yes, lard!--in the crusts. We had pumpkin, pecan, apple, wild Maine blueberry, and sweet potato and all with home-made whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream (or if you're my daughter, both.)

No wonder I forgot to post to Mamarazzi. Even though today is my day.

So anyway, the pie crust has lifted, and ... I remembered.

I remembered about computers. I remembered about the internet. I remembered all that stuff I usually waste so much time doing. And so, here I am, back where I belong, with my rapidly-expanding ass parked in front of a laptop.

I even posted to Mamarazzi. Check it out--Seal and Heidi Klum had a baby named Gibberish Gobbledy Gook Seal-Klum! No, really! They did! Check it out!

3 x 3 = 9

Three days--yesterday, today, tomorrow--in nine words. Yes, nine. Even more terse and vivid than a haiku. Because I'm feeling poetic. And busy.

Yesterday

church, accident,* tow-truck

Today

insurance, conferences, laundry

Tomorrow

packing, airport, Thanksgiving

* The only person hurt was my cute little green Passat station wagon. Which is majorly dinged, considering that I was maybe going 20 miles an hour when a car came out of nowhere and planted itself in my path. And the moral of the story is ? Do not rear-end a Sherman Tank Mercedes Benz.

The promised meme. From Joke.

Explain what ended your last relationship?
It's been so long that I can't really remember, but I think it was the time he peed on my bedroom floor.

When was the last time you shaved?
About three days ago, she bristled.

What were you doing this morning at 8 a.m.?
Taking my first life-giving sip of tea.

What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Sitting around on my fat butt playing with the internet. As you can see, nothing's changed.

Have you had to take a loan out for school?
Yes.

Last thing received in the mail?
The electric bill, which puzzled me. How I managed to use more electricity during the month of August (when I wasn't here) than I did in July (when I was) eludes me.

How many different beverages have you had today?
Three. Water, coffee, and tea. But it's early yet.

Are you any good at math?
A bit. I was always very good at geometry and trigonometry, and I'm still excellent at arithmetic--if you want to know how much carpeting that costs $35/yard installed will cost for your 19 x 26 foot living room, I'm your gal. On the other hand, the idea of even trying to learn calculus makes me want to hide under your living room sofa, which will make installation difficult.

Your prom night, what do you remember about it?
I didn't go to the prom. I was in high school in the 70s. Proms were for dorks.

Do you have any famous ancestors?
Thomas Dudley. And because I'm descended from Dudley, I'm also descended from Charlemagne. I guess I need to get a big-ass ring so all my blogging fans can kiss it.

Do you ever leave messages on people’s answering machine?
Of course. I tell the person to call me back, but I never say who I am. Which means that sometimes the person I called calls the wrong person back, probably renewing the ties of an ancient friendship. In this way, I spread sweetness and light.

Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
It's "Whom." And it was The Rolling Stones. But it's OK. They were gentle with me.

Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
What? And risk identity theft?

What’s the most painful dental procedure you’ve had?
A root canal performed by the ham-handed practitioner my parents probably picked because he was descended from Thomas Dudley or some such. It definitely wasn't for his dentistry.

What is your favorite flavor of JELL-O?
Red. All other flavors are heretical and--if you're not religious--just plain wrong.

Have you ever been to a planetarium?
Several times. I like planetaria. You sit in the dark and look at cool stuff. It's like going to the movies without all that tedious violence.

When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
Do you mean large as in numerous, or large as in obese?

Any plans for Friday night?
That depends upon who's asking.

What is out your back door?
Let me guess. You've run out of even semi-interesting questions.

Do you like what the ocean does to your hair?
Not at all. If I wanted my hair to be covered with nasty, salty, sticky stuff, I'd stay in bed.

Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different popcorns?
Wait a minute. Is this so-called meme actually a marketing survey?

Do you re-use towels after you shower?
OK, this is definitely a marketing survey, I just know it. Either that or it's some pervert. Come out of hiding, you cheesey marketing person and/or pervert. Be honest. Just ask me, Martex or Grand Patrician? Monogrammed or not? Do I like my towels soft and cushiony, or do I prefer the rough caress of nubbly terry loops?

Some things you are excited about?
Sex, my upcoming birthday, my birthday loot, if any, Christmas, and nubbly terry loops.

Describe your keychain(s)?
I can't. I don't remember what it looks like. Actually, they. As in the keys to one car. The keys to the other car. The keys to the house. They're all on different keychains. And no, I don't know why; that's just the way I do it. And stop trying to divert attention from your towel fetish. You're not fooling anyone.

Where do you keep your change?
In my wallet. If I get too much of it, I stick it in a jar. When the jar is full, I take it to the bank, where, guess what? They turn it back into money. You should try it, cheesey Marketing Towel Fetish Pervert. Sometimes I get $80 or even more, which will buy a lot of Bed-Head, Stiff-Stuff, and new towels. At least, if the towels are on sale.

What kind of winter coat do you own?
OK, remarks about nubbly terry towels and salty hair aside, this is where it actually gets embarrassing around here:

Vintage camel's hair swing coat with blonde mink collar
Vintage red wool coat with black fox collar
red duffle coat
red boiled wool jacket with Tyrolean braid trim
black car coat with red trim
brown duffle coat
long black cashmere
navy blue wool trench
navy blue cotton trench
black leather zip front jacket
knee-length swing mink
long straight dark brown mink

What was the weather like on your graduation day?
Wet. But not in a way that would excite you, Cheesey Marketing Towel Fetish Pervert.

Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Closed. And in your case, Cheesey Marketing Towel Fetish Pervert, locked.

And then I woke up--and thanked God it was Friday.

I just checked the date of my last entry, and it took me by surprise. Has it really been five days since I've posted? Wow.

Of course, this has been a week replete with meetings, some of which I led, all of which involved my having to talk. All the talking might have led me to believe that I've shot my wad and am conversationally bankrupt, when as far as the internet is concerned, I'm being unusually taciturn.

And yet, I'm exhausted and have nothing to say.

This might be because once in a while, at these meetings I just mentioned, I feel that it's appropriate to let someone else talk. And then I have to listen to that person. And if there's anything that tires me out more than talking, it's listening. Because, you know, people don't always talk about things that interest me. I mean, there they go, blathering away, expressing their own thoughts, when honestly, mine are so much better.

Which you will discover if you check my latest Mamarazzi entry. It represents the last thought I completed before my brain flat-lined, so grab it while it's hot.

Meanwhile I'll try to dredge up some fresh new memes, internet quizzes, knock-knock jokes, trivia, false memories, recipes, and rude cracks about celebrities for tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, if I have a hangover.

Why am I nawt suhprised?

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Boston You definitely have a Boston accent, even if you think you don't. Of course, that doesn't mean you are from the Boston area, you may also be from New Hampshire or Maine.
The Northeast
The Midland
Philadelphia
The West
The Inland North
North Central
The South
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Hello. I must be going.

As I started to write this entry, I realized I was starving. So I'm going downstairs to have Yet Another delicious Seattle Sutton Healthy Eating lunch.

Which maybe isn't all that tasty, but as I've said before; I didn't have to cook it; ergo, it's delicious. But uninspiring. If you are what you eat, I am a hermetically-sealed microwavable low-sodium, low- fat lunch.

In a word: dull.

Really, it's not worth hanging around here to see whether I'll snap out of it and write something interesting.

You should check out my new tenant. That Grrl makes wicked cool ascii art and has a goofy sense of humor, plus she's a Sagittarius, and that means it's almost her birthday. Now, don't you feel guilty that you haven't checked out her blog? Click on the thumbnail! I gotta go. I'M HUNGRY. kbye!

I'm Number 1! I'm Number 1!

Unlike a lot of bloggers (some of whom read this blog) I'm not a foodie. If a dish is edible, and doesn't contain a mountain of revolting ingredients, and (most important of all) I didn't have to cook it? I like it. And happily eat it.

And yet, I just won a prize for my cooking.

Which just goes to show you that, if you pick the right recipe, and follow the directions, you, too, can win first prize for The Best Side Dish in the All Friends/No Family Thanksgiving Dinner potluck. With at least 60 dishes in the categories of Appetizer, Side dish, and Dessert, the odds were 20 to 1 against my winning anything, and yet, I won best side dish for

Wild Rice and Pecan Salad

1 cup raisins (I use Golden raisins because they're pretty)
1 cup wild rice
4 1/4 cups water
1 cup pecan halves and 3/4 cups pecan pieces
3/4 cup thinly sliced green onion/scallion
1/3 cup olive oil (Oh, OK. EVOO, a/k/a Extra Virgin Olive Oil)
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
pepper

Soak raisins in hot water until plump; drain well.
Cook rice in water. (It occurs to me--now, when it's too late to do any good--that a teaspoon of salt in the cooking water would probably improve things.)
Toast pecans @ 350 degrees for 10 minutes.
Mix cooked rice, plumped raisins, and sliced green onion in a large bowl.
Whisk olive oil, vinegar and pepper.
Pour over rice mixture.
Toss.
Chill covered until serving time. Add toasted pecans and mix lightly.

Allow me to enumerate the many perfections of this recipe. It is

1. easy
2. interesting
3. uses two indigenous American ingredients (thus making it perfect for Thanksgiving)
4. can be made ahead
5. can be served cold or at room temperature, AND
6. might win you a prize

(Personally, I thought the sweet potato fluff with chopped nuts would totally waltz away with the prize, but who am I to question the judgment of my public?)




.

Poppies, poppies.

Did you all remember Remembrance Day? Armistice Day? Veteran's Day?

We put the flag out and I managed to removed most--not all--of the Halloween decorations.



Newtopia had a ceremony on the Village Green at the War Memorial. At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

Nobody tried to sell me a poppy, though.

I miss the poppy sellers I used to see on the street. Did anyone see them? Or have they gone the way of the veterans in my family?

Because I really am that funny.

I haven't mentioned it in a while, but I'm one of the women who writes a weekly post in Mamarazzi: Because Celebrity Parenting Is So Easy to Snark!

Let me tell you, coming up with a snarky take on today's celebrity parenting practices isn't as easy as you'd think. Sure, there are the days when Britney Spears almost drops her baby, or Angelina adopts Yet Another Third World Baby, but let's face it; great moments for full-on celebrity snarkage don't come nearly as regularly as I'd like.

No, writing about celebrity parenting is a lot like actual, real-life non-celebrity parenting; lots of slogging and not much glamour. Basically, it's a frantic, fast-paced whirl of sound, fury, and guilt--but the good news is that in both cases, you can do it in your pajamas.

On a day like today, when the hour or so I spent finding pictures and writing what I hoped was witty prose falls on deaf ears, because you, Internet, are feeling picky, and if you were a baby in a high chair, would not laugh; on the contrary, you would throw your bowl of oatmeal on the floor and cry ...

... I can play this:

"Want to change my clothes, my hair, my face"

Well, well, well. The returns are in.

How do you spell "Sweep?" P-O-P-P-Y.

Yes, I'm feeling happy. And, to tell you the truth, also a bit petty. A better woman would look at these things with a fine, objective, Zen-like calm. A better woman would not drive around listening to AM talk radio and rolling her eyes at the assinine, mean-spirited remarks being made by the shows' hosts.

So yeah, I'm happy. And petty. But just a bit. Really! Because for all of us who voted, the good news is that the democratic process has shown its strength again. The voters didn't like what was going on, so they threw the bums out.

Now maybe, just maybe, the Republicans will realize that if you act like an arrogant asshole, you might get fired.

As for the Democrats? Maybe they'll remember what it felt like when they got fired. Maybe this time they'll keep in touch with reality.

But bear with me, because in this, a mostly-non-political blog, I want to talk about two more things. This business of Rumsfeld resigning. Talk about the locking the barn door after the horse gets stolen. Here I was thinking that while the list of our current President's shortcomings is long (Hee! Get it?) he is, at least, loyal. Maybe to a politically-damaging extent, but somehow, for me, that meant he was pig-headed, but in a way that showed he had integrity.

Guess not.

So that sucks. I mean, if the Iraq war wasn't going well today, after the Democrats took control of both houses ... wasn't it going badly yesterday? In which case, why not have asked for Rumsfeld's resignation--I don't know--at any point during the last three years? I mean, what is this--a gesture? When you're pig-headed, you're not supposed to stoop to empty gestures.

And Karl Rove. I suspect that the Republican get-out-the-vote tactic--the one where they add a socially-conservative, non-binding referendum to the ballot in order to increase voter turn-out ("I know! 'Marriage is between one man and one woman!' That will bring them to the polls")--has finally peaked. It looks like the voters have figured it out. Which is good. Because honestly, that tactic looks about as spontaneous and unscripted as Bruce Springsteen pulling Courtney Cox onto the stage to dance in the Dancing in the Dark video. Sure, we all fell for it the first time ... but now we know this was a coldly-calculated move.

p.s. Apropos of nothing at all, DAMN! Doesn't Springsteen look good in that video? Maybe he should run for President. I'd vote for him. As long as he promises to fire his Secretary of Defense right away, and not wait until after the mid-term election results are in.

Bloggers! I have solved your problem. The eternal problem of Blogging Content, and Where to Get It.

It's easy. Look to the left of your laptop. (This leaves your dominant hand free to convey the all-important mug of caffeine towards your face.) And don't give me shitty little come-backs like "But Poppy! I'm left-handed!" Be brave, bold, and resolute, bloggers. Think outside the box. Switch the rights and lefts; we'll wait.

OK. What is to the left of my laptop? Halloween candy wrappers. And thus, today's entry is

Halloween Candy: The Review

1. 3 Musketeers in the wee little snackity-snack size. Verdict: tastes like someone melted a brown crayon and poured it over a stale marshmallow. Why bother? Which explains why there are only three wrappers there. It turns out they do not get better if you eat several of them.

2. Hershey's Dark Chocolate Kisses. These are the ones that come in purple metallic foil wrappers. Verdict: These are actually pretty good. The chocolate has a luscious series of overtones that is guaranteed to to send your tastebuds into pirouettes of delight. There are only two wrappers in the saucer, but there would be more, if I hadn't tried the 3 Musketeers first.

There are also two noticeable absences, or lacks.

3. Across the room, very far from the plate to the left of my laptop there is a container of little Fun-Sized baglets of Hershey's Kissables. Verdict: Don't bother. To the already overly-sweet taste and chalk-like texture of the Hershey's Kiss has been added a very hard, slick coating that smells like little guest soaps. Avoid.

4. DNA testing would reveal that there used to be a bowl of dark chocolate M&Ms on the sideboard. Verdict: These were excellent--the Garden of Eden of Halloween candy. Which is why they're gone.

What is the state of your Halloween candy? All gone? Nothing left but Circus Peanuts? You never had any? Discuss.

Another reason to hate me. Or maybe just think I'm a big weirdo with a lot of time on my hands.

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The Princess and the Pea

I'm back!

And I'll bet you didn't even notice that I was gone. But I was.

Sure, I was a good Mamarazzi contributor; I posted my Friday entry from the funny antiquated desktop in the lobby of the funny antiquated hotel I was staying in, but for a couple of days, that was pretty much all there was going on between you and me, Internet.

I flew out of Chicago Thursday morning, rented a car, checked into my hotel, dinner meeting, talk talk talk, all day meeting the next day, talk talk talk, drive like crazy person back to airport, get stuck in Southwest's "C" line.

Yuck. Exhausted. Fried. Just wanted to sit on the plane and read my book.

I got an aisle seat (yay!) on the aisle in a three-seat row. The other seats were taken up by a beautiful 15-month old girl and her mother, who was busy feeding her little chunks of ham, peas, and corn from a Rubbermaid container.

I guess a lot of business travelers steer clear of rows with children, but not me. Within about a minute of my first "Hi! Aren't you a cutie!" Sarah held out her tiny chubby fist. She was offering me a pea.

Now all you Purell-carrying germ-o-phobes might shudder, but I took it, said "Thank you!" in my best talking-to-toddler voice, and ate it, evincing pleasure like something off the Food Network.

In Jack and the Beanstalk, we learned about magic beans. Well, this was a magic pea. I felt better instantly.

Of course, Sarah, seeing what she had wrought, continued to offer me peas, but really, I'm not a glutton for magic. A little bit, from time to time, at irregular intervals, suits me right down to a pea T.

What I Should Have Said.

The next time somebody asks me

Are you coming?

I'm going to reply

Why? Does it show?

The Revelation of the Month. So far.

OK, so it's not much, but it's early in the month.

Yesterday a fourth grade room mother looked at me and without a "Hello, Poppy" or any kind of preamble asked me "Are you coming?"

I thought she meant coming to the fourth grade Halloween party, but just then, someone interrupted her. When she was free, she asked me again: "Are you coming to the class cocktail party?"

Revelation dawned. Whoops, I forgot to r.s.v.p. "No," I started to answer. And she turned away and walked off.

The hell? OK, Emily Post would be displeased with me for letting the class cocktail party invitation get buried on my desk ... but this is something that one of the room parents takes on as part of the job of being room parent. This is not a real party. In fact, "Class Parents' Party" is an oxymoron.

And then it occurred to me. This woman has two children, one in each of my children's grades. The older one is about the dourest sixth grader I've ever seen. The younger is described by my same-aged child as "my best enemy."

In other words, my kids don't like her kids. And? Big surprise? I don't like her.

Now, for years I've been figuring that a kid with neurobehavioral issues probably sprang spontaneously from the loins of nice, normal parents. However, years of unconscious observation on my part suddenly yielded yesterday's big insight: Weird parents tend to have weird kids. And weird kids? Tend to have weird parents.

Just so you know, my kids are weird. I have the paperwork and IEPs and therapy bills to prove it.

Now you know what you can expect from me.