What I Learned This Summer - Part Three

Grief is an Odd Feeling. Grief over Celebrities is Odder.


RIP, Michael Jackson. And, not to be crass, but you really lived longer than I thought you would. I don't know who you really were or what you did or didn't do. I do know that when we were kids my brother and I played your music as much as our Star Wars album, so that's saying a lot. And I do know that all of the weirdos wailing in the streets in their supposed sorrow (and I include most of your family in that) yeah, well, they helped to kill you and I hope they figure that out one day.

I will say that I did get a bit choked up, when in the middle of all of the circus that first week of his death, The Simpsons that Sunday simply ran the old episode where he was a guest voice. His character was Homer's roommate in an asylum who thought he was Michael Jackson and helped Bart write a song for Lisa's birthday. It was a sweet gesture and a fitting tribute to the crazy that was his life.

By far the more upsetting celebrity death for me this summer was John Hughes. And it's odd because I have no idea what he was like as a person - even in the way you think you know a celebrity, but really don't. But he was literally responsible for the soundtrack of my adolescence and with his sudden passing I feel like I really, really have to be a grown-up now. It kinda sucks.

Everyone has their favorite John Hughes movie. I, of course, love all of my teen-angst-riddled Molly Ringwald films, but I think his best was Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Silly and absurd, but also still funny and really, just very beautiful to watch. You don't usually get that from a teen comedy. John Hughes had a talent for marrying music and film in a way that isn't cliched but instead make you feel instantly nostalgic for that time in your life. Even if you weren't old enough for that time in your life to have happened yet.

Did that make any sense?

Anyway... when I would read articles about Hughes' death, the scene and the song that kept popping into my head wasn't the "The Thompson Twins and sitting on the dining table with the birthday cake," or "dancing in the school library to 'We Are Not Alone," or "Duckie lip-synching to Otis Redding." Those are all great and rightly have been posted and paid tribute to over and over again. But for me, what kept running through my mind, and what typified John Hughes work was The Art Institute of Chicago and The Smiths.

What I Learned This Summer - Part Two

2. Always, always - ALWAYS - use test paint:

Every single frickin' room in my house is, or was, in the process of being painted. In two of them I first applied test paint and have ended up with exactly the color that had been floating about in my head.

You know, in my head, the place where I am Martha Stewart and my best friends are Tom Filicia and Nate Berkus. It's all kinds of fun in there...

But, in two of the other rooms I arrogantly taped a couple of paint chips to a wall, declared a winner without much thought and then painted. Only to be horrified at the end result.

In the bedrooms I wanted a nice, coffee-with-a-bit-of-cream colored brown. Not too dark. Not too light. A Goldilocks of brown, if you will. How hard could that be, right? Well, the boys that helped me paint started on one of the bedrooms while I was busy doing something else in another room and were being suspiciously quiet while they worked. After a bit they called me in to look at the color, sounding a bit concerned. And rightly so.

It was pink.

Well, eventually a mauve-ish tan. But all wet and shiny and freshly painted, it was pink. We tried to convince ourselves that it would dry darker and be fine. In reality, I think they knew I was going to hate it, but they were very sweet (and very tall - Summer Lesson Learned Part 2.5 is always get tall boys to help you paint...) and humored me and kept painting anyway. Two days later I went back to the paint store, they added green to the paint, matched it perfectly to the color in my head and I went home and sheepishly re-painted by myself.

Then the bathroom. Oh the bathroom. It needed a muted, robin's egg blue - one of those nice Martha Stewart vintagey shades of aqua. But again... I recklessly painted and then stepped back to take a look, promptly declaring "Aaaaaand now I live in a beach house!" Turquoise. Bright, blinding turquoise. Seriously. Like hang a shrimp net in the corner, find a parrot statue for the back of the toilet and a seashell cover for the box of Kleenex. Lord. Finally though I got it right and now every morning I sigh at how much I love it and how it's finally exactly the right color. Finally.

I bemoaned to Katie about all of this one afternoon and she said that for women, picking paint colors is akin to men's inability to stop and ask for directions. It's something that we believe we should be able to just inherently do without assistance and sometimes we just can't. So true.

It's almost all done now. Well, as done as it's going to get for now. And I will share photos soon.

Until then, in my head, it's happy hour and Tom and Nate and I are enjoying martinis and discussing what fabric to recover my living room chair in, if you'd like to join us.

See you tomorrow.

What I Learned This Summer - Part One. Or....

The Official Moment Wherein:

• My boss goes on vacation
• I can see the light at the end of the home renovation tunnel
• It's only 7 more days until the start of college football
• I recently went to see Julie and Julia so I'm reminded that I should be posting something on my blog so that Nora Ephron will one day find me interesting enough to turn into a movie...

No? Ok, moving on...

So, I've been negligent. But with good reason. Kinda. I've spent most of the summer thinking about what I'd like to be when I grow up, should that moment ever happen. And, when I haven't been doing that, I've been painting and wandering through Lowe Depot and obsessively reading about college football. It's been, like, the least girlie summer in history. But I have learned a lot. So, if anyone out there still remembers me, I give you Part One of the Top Five Lessons from the Summer of 2009:


1. I Suck at Balance:


Mostly I suck at balancing the different areas of my life. I'm always letting one of them consume my time and energy and in doing so let the others sit over in the corner and collect dust. And dog hair. Lots and lots of dog hair. I've always known that I do this, but never before this summer have I realized so clearly how dysfunctional I am about it.

The aforementioned home renovation tunnel prevents me from seeking paid help for my condition so until Dr. Phil starts penning an advice column in This Old House magazine, I'm kind of on my own to figure out how to fix it.

I also physically suck at balance. Startled out of bed a couple of weeks ago - by the producers of the dog hair that's collecting on the areas of my life I can't keep balanced - I stumbled into the living room to assess the identity of the person that must've been trying to break into the house and murder us all to warrant all the frantic damn barking. Turned out it was only a stray dog running loose on our street and in the process of my stumbling I clumsily ran one of my toes directly into the dog gate, breaking it slightly.

Points for irony: knowing that it wasn't an important enough toe (second-to-last on the left foot - a.k.a. the Little Piggy Who Had None) or a severe enough break to warrant a visit to the doctor, I just taped it. But I didn't have any medical tape handy for myself, so I swiped some from the other first aid kit in the house. The dog first aid kit. If one of them sprains a paw running through the house because I've woken them up at 2am over something stupid, then maybe I'll feel badly about it.

More points for irony AND bonus humiliation points: the next day I actually had a doctor's appointment. HOWEVER, let's just say that feet were not her area of specialty but that she did have an opportunity get a good look at my feet and asked what I had done. I told her and she said not to bother seeing a doctor whose area of specialty included feet because "unless you broke it off altogether, all they're going to do is tape it." She offered to re-tape the toe for me but said it looked like I had done a good job. I neglected to mention it was thanks to the dogs' first aid kit.


So, there you go, one lesson down and four to go. Hope you've had a good summer too.

Red Letter Day

1. According to my trusty iGoogle page it's "Old Maid's Day" AND "Hug Your Cat Day." Ironic, no? I seem to have half of this holiday covered. Good news. Hopefully two neurotic dogs will be adequate substitutes for the rest...

2. Most importantly, however, today marks another birthday. An actual, non-celebrity birthday. The birthday of my dear friend, Todd. It's a milestone birthday and to celebrate he rented a house on the top of a small mountain about an hour outside of Nashville and invited 20 or so friends and family up for this past weekend.

It was this huge, rambling, century-old home full of mismatched furniture, antiques, random mementos and art, sloping wood floors, giant clawfoot tubs with no showers, and an odd assortment of monkey-themed decor that I won't go into, but suffice it to say, all together made quite the fantastic setting. It constantly felt like you were maybe in movie - where everything was just this unique and picture-perfect moment. In fact I did comment that it reminded me of a specific movie with a similar setting and at one point late on Saturday night I believe I drunk-texted Katie to tell her so. Only I forgot that text-to-email messages don't include your name so she had no clue who the hell I was (but really, Katie, who else would text you on a Saturday night to mention a movie that only you, me and ten other people saw)...

Not everyone who came up stayed for both nights - and some just came up for the day on Saturday - so there was always someone new to meet and a different conversation to be part of. Tables scattered about the porch and lawn were constantly full of drinks and snacks and buffets of delicious pasta salad and chicken salad and pimento cheese sandwiches. Martha Stewart would have been proud.


The weather was absolute perfection. I think I spent a total of 30 minutes inside on Saturday (not counting the few hours when I managed to find my bed) and I can't remember the last time that ever happened. There was croquet and cornhole and hula hooping - even an arts and crafts table - and lazing about on an enormous swing on an even more enormous wrap-around porch, or sunning yourself on the edge of the bluff and then watching the sun set over the farms and town in the valley below.

I love that our croquet game came complete with a little table for our cocktails.
Lord knows how much longer the game would have gone on if we'd all had to play one-handed...

My very first game of cornhole. I've resisted this activity because, seriously!?
That has to be the most ridiculous name for a game ever. It is pretty fun though.
And unlike croquet, you play one-handed. Advantage: cornhole.


I try to avoid posting close-ups of friends and family on the interwebs
unless they've given me permission. But that's the birthday boy there
on the right showing us his mad artistic abilities, so I couldn't resist.



Those are well-placed tiki torches there in the foreground.
They marked the edge of the bluff and came in especially handy during a
star-gazing-turned-yard-nap activity late Saturday / early Sunday.

Much like a wedding reception, it was one of those occasions where someone's circles of friends and family converge all in one space. When that happens there is a high risk of it all ending poorly - but it didn't, not in the least - most likely as a testament to the kind of person my friend is. Which is to say he is one of the most genuinely good and wonderful people I know. If this past weekend is any indication, he's in for a great year. And it is well deserved. Happy Birthday.

A Simpler Place in Time

Happy Birthday today to Gladys Knight. I don't know much about you, Gladys, except that you are responsible for singing one of the greatest songs in the history of the world.

That song is also responsible for one of my favorite moments of Will & Grace. When Will and Grace get a bit sidetracked trying to work up the courage to confess to Sandra Bernhart that they never were interested in buying her apartment and just used it as an excuse to meet her.

It's also one of the many songs my brother and I would sing along to when we were little, standing in front of the fireplace, pretending it was a stage. We often thought we were going to be the next Donnie and Marie. Although on this tune, somehow, I always ended up as a Pip...

I got to spend a lot of time with my brother and my niece this past weekend and at 16 months she's already quite the ham. I see many fireplace hearth-turned-stage productions in her future and hopefully she'll let us at least sing back-up. So Gladys, with any luck, maybe by this time next year I'll be a Pip again.

Happy Birthday.

Today's Inbox

I just finished doing an online training in Excel for a lovely, but completely exhausting, person I work with who thankfully lives and works in another part of the state.

And in case you were wondering - yes, it is fun spending your morning showing someone who makes twice as much as you how to type words into tiny boxes...

Anyway... I looked up at one point during the call and someone in this office, who could hear the conversation I was having, came and placed this on my desk. A gesture which almost caused me to snort coffee up my nose and into the phone as I was explaining how to adjust column widths.

Going from working for the government to a non-profit required certain sacrifices - like a pension and group health insurance - but at least now there's a liquor cabinet in the kitchen.

Happy Wednesday.

Two Things Destroying / Restoring My Faith in Humanity

So first, the bad.

I lovingly refer to these two things as The Crap I Didn't Want to Know about in the First Place but It's Been Crammed Down My Throat So Much I Now Feel Compelled to Bitch about It Edition.

1. Dear Miss California and Mr. Trump and Mr. Hilton,

Please. All of you. Shut up. I don't care what any of your opinions are on gay marriage or topless photos or family values or pageant ethics or why the chicken crossed the road. You aren't doing the pageant community, the rich jackass community, or the gay community any favors with your respective bullshit. Besides, none of you seem competent enough to pick out your own earrings, hair pieces or clothing so I don't think you need to be speaking on national television about anything else.


2. Dear Parents on Meercat Manor Jon and Kate Plus 8,

I think I smell me some ratings whores. Reality TV is a fickle thing and you knew the free ride had to end sometime. Instead of creating scandal to get people to pay attention to you, maybe you should just repackage your show/family. Maybe become fundamentalists and have nine more kids. Or - better yet - make your kids design outfits and then have them compete against one another. You could get Perez Hilton to advise them and Miss California and Donald Trump to be the judges.

That I might actually watch.

And now for the good.

The Making Up for General World Crappiness, the Fact That Bluejays Have Been Ravaging My Vegetable Garden, and the Existence of Asshats Like Those Mentioned Above Edition.

1. The Obamas.

Yeah, I know. Yawn. Newsflash - Gert likes the president. But there are days when it just seems like the crappy state of the world just keeps getting crappier and I find myself slipping back into the dark, grouchy place I was in for eight years. But then. Then something happens and I remember that feeling I had back in the fall and the winter and I'm re-inspired. Granted, my re-inspiration may only be enough to kick some bluejay ass, but that'll do.

Arizona State Commencement Speech

Merced Commencement Speech (part 1)

2. OMG OMG OMG.

Glee. Did you watch it? Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. Deliberately and un-apologetically cliched and cheesy. Humor, drama, show tunes and my favorite song from 6th grade:

I haven't been this giddy about television since the Jane Austen series on PBS last year. What I didn't know until lunch yesterday, however, was that last night was not the premiere of a series they were going to air this summer, but only a sneak preview at a series for the fall. Tragic, but again, brilliant on the part of Fox because all I'm going to do this summer is remind you to go online and watch it. Aren't you lucky? Seriously, watch it.