scraps & lagniappe

superfluous Sunday night

Sleep isn't coming due to the static in my brain.  The static of thoughts.  Here are thoughts that can be said out loud, and thus publishable.

In the morning I will have to sit through the 1st grade Christmas program for the 3rd time.  The first child repeated 1st grade, so I attended the program again last year.  This year, Katie is in Transitional 1st grade and will be in 1st grade next year.  That means I will be attending next year as well.  The boy child will be in 1st grade the year after that.  For you out there playing the home game, that means Kerry will be sitting through the 1st grade Christmas program five years IN A ROW.  If I don't drink myself to death on egg nog first.

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I'm thinking it's a good time to bring back wearing hats.  Aretha Franklin's hat was so inspiring last January that I think we should mark the anniversary of Aretha's hat by donning our finest chapeaus.  Most of the country will be marking the day by remembering President Obama's first year in office, but I'm calling it Aretha's Hat Day.

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The pharmacist at Walgreens offered the kids Dum-Dum suckers today.  I'm never offered candy as an adult.  This is wrong on so many levels.

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So far, the most attractively wrapped gift under my tree is for someone on my list who will not notice the effort.  As my family and friends know, I am a gift-wrap snob.  The other day, I ran out of the ribbon I've used for every other present and pulled out the only ribbon that would match the paper, which is beautiful.  I only use Hallmark paper, real ribbon or trim, never those stick-on bows, and please -- don't get me started on paper that doesn't go with your tree or paper with characters.  It's like people forget what this holiday is all about!  

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I've been pondering growing my hair out.  

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While driving with Frugal Beth the other day, we talked about colors and she mentioned I never wear green.  I told her I feel like a Christmas tree in green.  I then told her that after The Great Closet Purge, I realized I mainly only wear gray, white, black, brown, red, and pink.  Denim doesn't count.  I did buy a saftey-orange sweater that I really like.  I can't help but think that once I put it in the closet it's going to be swallowed by the other colors and I'll never see it again.  I own blue, but seldom wear it.  I hate purple.  One of the worst methods of torture I can imagine is being forced to wear yellow.  Or peach.  Ick.  

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I watched a clip from a documentary about dogs that have leapt to their deaths from a bridge in England.  Further proof that I will watch a documentary on anything.  By the way, the dogs weren't suicidal -- they may have been smelling mink and were curious.  So, curiosity kills dogs too.

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Talk to y'all soon.  

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Hi, it's Kerry in Louisiana.  I know I haven't written in a couple of decades, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to send a letter your way, it being your time of year and all.  How have you been?  I hope you've been well, I know it can't be easy managing the elves and reindeer and Mrs. Claus and having to be jolly the whole time.  Holiday stress can be a bitch, but I'm sure you've got it under control (probably with a nice beverage or two if you know what I mean).  I'll be sure and put out a hot toddy with the cookies for you.  Or would you rather some pralines?  Maybe brownies?

So, here's why I'm writing.  Let's not fool ourselves, I've been as good as can be expected.  I think we both know it's been a rough few decades months and I'm trying to be good, really, I am.  It's just stressful -- this parenting stuff, not that you would know about that, not having children yourself.  Believe me, I'm not judging because I don't know the details -- maybe you and Mrs. Claus had infertility issues or decided against having kids (not that I'd blame you some days).   Anyway, the suburban mom thing is to probably to blame for whatever may knock me off the "good" list, so really, that should be a reflection of my three children and you should bring them coal.  Forget the Nintendo DSes -- just bring coal.  And switches.

Now onto what I'd like.  I have a list that maybe only you can handle, so knock yourself out.  If come Christmas morning some of my list isn't complete, I'll know you tried and that's all I can ask for.  I appreciate the effort.

1. Peace on Earth, but more importantly, peace in my house because I'm about to call Blackwater Special Ops to bust up some of the foolish arguments between my children.
2. Mary Poppins for a nanny.  I know she's a fictional character, but I'm pretty sure you are too and I don't hold that against you.
3. A McDonalds Egg Nog Milkshake.  They don't make them anymore.
4. The power to communicate telepathically.  I don't think I need to explain that one.
5. Time to myself.  I realize this may mean gaps in space-time continuum, but I really don't understand what that means being that I barely made it out of algebra and dropped physics in college on the first day of class.
6. An end to the Disneyfication of music.  I simply cannot take it.
7. Lane Bryant to make more pants in petite.
8. A houseboy.  I'm not picky, he could look like Hugh Grant, Alec Baldwin, or George Clooney.

That pretty much sums it up.  I hope you have the recipe for the Egg Nog shake, I'm assuming you do since you're Santa.  Maybe I should ask for recipe to Popeye's Red Beans and Rice, but I don't want to get too crazy. 

See you on Christmas Eve.  

Love,

superfluous Saturday

So, today's post has a soundtrack.  It's "Get Up" from R.E.M. just because it's a good song and kind of matches my mood right now.  Plus, the line "dreams, they complicate my life" is pretty great.  

I'm all over the place today, so I'm blogging a disconnected superfluous Saturday post.  It snowed last night.  Of course, I live in south Louisiana, so it's already melted and the kids are disappointed (but there is nothing I can do about that being that I do not actually have superpowers, or at least none that would help at the moment).

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The Shop Around The Corner was on last night and I watched it for probably the fifth time.  It's my favorite Jimmy Stewart movie and it's what You've Got Mail is a remake of, but the two main characters are pen pals instead of email and IM friends ('cause it's 1940 and Al Gore hadn't been born to invent the interwebs yet).  It's quite a lovely little movie, as well as being a Christmas movie, so it's a perfect time to watch it.  I may have to watch You've Got Mail tonight.

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I don't know what to ask for this Christmas.  I've been told to make a list by the hubs and I have to think of a couple of things for the parents to get me.  There are a few things about the Christmas Season I absolutely abhor: ridiculously tacky Christmas decor, holiday-themed sweaters, Christmas songs by country singers, the fact that McDonalds no longer makes the egg nog milkshake, and making a Christmas list for myself.  I never know what to ask for because I buy things for myself when I want them.  I'd planned to ask the hubs for a Kindle, but have decided to get a Nook from Barnes and Noble -- here's the rub: they're not shipping until sometime in January.  Naturally, I'm not going to ask for the Nook for Christmas because if I can't open it for Christmas it's really not a Christmas present, now is it?  I may ask for therapy and Target pharmacy giftcards for Christmas.

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I would like to welcome my new readers in Budapest and can't help but wonder how this blog translates in Hungary.  Also, the search term you used to arrive at my blog was, for lack of a better word, interesting.  The exclamation point shows that you REALLY mean it, because who knows what "redhead bbw pin-up girl" without the exclamation point would bring up.  By the way, the oddest search term used this week used to find my blog, according to my stat counter, was "big boobs scrap," which I can only guess is from that ONE time I was drunk and scrapbooking topless (that was a joke people, I ALWAYS scrapbook topless).  

the ob/gyn manifesto

So, I spent half the day at my OB/GYN's office and I have a few ideas to make the experience a bit more tolerable.  Perhaps I should make something clear: I have zero medical training (unless you count CPR class), but I feel I am qualified to make this manifesto because:

1. I am a woman; and 2. I have been a patient at exactly six OB/GYN offices.  That's right, six.  I've lived in a bunch of towns and approximately  42 medical professionals have seen me naked, maybe more.  I have zero modesty.  None.  Oh, number 3 -- I have borne three children and thus have spent a great deal of time in OB/GYN offices.  I know what I'm talking about.  I should be a consultant for doctors opening offices, seriously.

The OB/GYN Manifesto

American woman have endured many things -- ill-fitting bras, bad boyfriends, cramps -- but we will endure bad  OB/GYN office visits no longer.  Women have needs.  We need more.  The wonderful thing about America is that we have choices, for the most part anyway, and we can choose a doctor that we like.  Unfortunately, the office visit is not as pleasant as the relationship a woman forms with her doctor.  A woman's annual visit to her gynecologist is awkward and uncomfortable.  To make our visits more pleasant, I suggest the following:

1.  Put comfortable chairs in the waiting room if my wait is going to be over an hour.  Massage chairs would be nice.  Maybe bring in a pedicurist.  

2.  Gray is not an acceptable wall color.  It is sterile and depressing.  Think warm colors, something happy.

3.  If you're going to have a television on, put on the Food Network or HGTV, not a local channel with a soap opera.

4.  Music would be good (as long as it's decent).

5.  Magazines are a requirement.  Lots of magazines.  Fairly current.  Catalogs even.  

6.  Ban talking on cell phones in the waiting room.  I had to listen to a tiny blond woman plan her Christmas party for 45 minutes today and talking about how she broke her wrist rollerblading in her neighborhood.  When she ended the call, she started texting.  She hadn't turned off the clicky noise when you type.  It took every ounce of self-control I possess to not take her iPhone and throw it into the water fountain.  

7.  Forget the water fountain and put in a margarita machine.  

8.  Offer complimentary socks in the exam room.  It's cold in there and socks don't always go with my outfit.  

9.  Make sure all the signs in your office are spelled correctly.  It's called spellcheck, use it.

10. If you're going to have art on the walls, for goodness sakes, make sure it's not portraits with eyes that follow you -- it's a doctor's office, not the damn Haunted Mansion.  

11. On the scale,  have it say "superfantastic!" or "way hot" or "did you lose weight?" instead of numbers.  I'm sure the numbers could show up behind where we stand on the scale for you to see, but why don't we use this as an opportunity to boost our self-esteem?  It could be a win-win!

12. Do something about those exam gowns.  Pink, maybe an animal print, or a Snuggie.

13. Why not put in a skylight or something for me to look at while I'm in the stirrups?  

14.  Speaking of the stirrups -- this is not the time for small talk.  We all know what's going on here, no need to ask about the kids or if I have weekend plans.  The only plans I have right now are to get dressed and get the hell out of there.  

15. Compliment my earrings.  It's hard to accessorize when planning the annual exam, a great deal of thought went into this.  Now that I think about it, you could accessorize as well.  Maybe one of those tuxedo-tshirts under your scrubs.  It's just an idea.

Together we can make this a better experience.  

Love,

pothole stole my voice

So, my mother-in-law tells me tonight to Google a commercial with a pothole in it, so I did. 

She tells me the pothole sounds just like me and my Shreveport accent.  This is what my accent sounds like to people from New Orleans.  Fantastic.

jobs I'd be perfect for

My post on Edie Brikell got me thinking about jobs I'd be perfect for.  Here's the list.

1. song picker for movies
2. ice cream flavor namer-person
3. anti-frizz hair product tester
4. moral compass
5. maryjane shoe designer
6. professional Trivial Pursuit player
7. big coffee cup designer
8. music reviewer
9. wig model
10. nonsense blogger
11. coffee taste-tester
12. haiku author
13. radio talk show therapist
14. back-up singer
15. professional iTunes playlist maker
16. tagline maker-upper for random things
17. detective
18. pajama designer
19. doctor's office magazine rearranger
20. petite plus sized model (sounds like an oxymoron)

reasons why I believe I'm in an unfilmed slapstick comedy

I've often felt like Lucille Ball, but lately it's all the time.  Right now, while I'm making rice, which takes 20 minutes to make, I'm going to list 20 reasons why I believe I'm in an unfilmed slapstick comedy,

1. This afternoon, the boy child comes in from the backyard and requests a plain slice of bread.  Upon my opening the bread, Lucy dog runs in the house, grabs the entire loaf bread and runs back outside. 
2. I got a splinter in my left index finger yesterday without leaving the house.
3. A few minutes ago I accidentally turned the bag of rice upside down and the seam of the bag busted.  Rice everywhere.  This incident spawned this post.
4. The other day at Megan's house, I drive up and she's spray painting a giant piece of plywood primer gray, which looked SILVER in the sun.  I say, "that would match my car."  She says, "want me to spray that spot?" That would be the place of rust and a dent on my car where I backed into the hubs old car TWICE.  I told her to spray it.
5. Upon getting two sleeping bags out of the dryer, I saw that I had melted one.  Melted a sleeping bag in the dryer, that's me.
6. Yesterday my dog ate a water hose.
7. The light has gone out above our stairs, there's no way I'm changing that bulb.  Me on a ladder over the stairs?  Ha.  ER trip waiting to happen.
8. While getting clothes out of the washing machine last week, I backed up and fell into a deep, mostly empty laundry basket and was stuck for a good two minutes.  I thought about how long I would try to get out before calling 911 to say "I can't get out of a laundry basket, send the jaws of life!"
9. When the restaurant owner said "have a good lunch" the other day, I said "you too!"
10. In the car on Friday, leaving Target and weaving through the road construction, I hit a bump and heard the sound of the boy child's mini Oreos hitting the car floor.  I asked, "did you spill your mini Oreos?"  He said, "no, the car did."
11. My lawn man calls the other night and asked if we needed the grass cut, since it's fall and not really growing.  I told him no, but asked if he does mulch and stuff.  He said yes and that he'd look at my flower beds next time he's in my neighborhood, then interjected "I'm over there a lot, since I'm dating your neighbor Whatsherface."  Hello?  Are we friends now?  I don't want to know who you're dating, yard man.  I nearly choked on my beverage.
12.  Unbeknown to me, an ice cube was allowed to melt on my kitchen floor yesterday.  I stepped on the water in my slippies, which I wear around the house all the time.  Good news is, I can still do the splits all the way down to the floor.  Even the French judge would have given me a 10.
13. After getting up, I announced "I'm a regular Mary Lou Retton!" to the kids.  They have no idea who Mary Lou Retton is.  Lord, I'm old.  Then I hit my arm on the kitchen island and now have a giant bruise.
14. I was using kitchen tongs as castanets (the little "clink-clink" instrument you wear on your fingers) while singing along to music and cooking this evening and pinched the fire out of my finger.  But the tongs sounded excellent with the song.  The song was "Dance Anthem of the 80's" by Regina Spektor. 
15. Last night I wasn't feeling so hot, so I watched a little Ricky Gervais' "Animals" stand-up show to cheer me up.  I nearly choked to death on a Milk Dud when he did the bit about koala bears and human finger prints being so similar that they could be confused at the scene of a crime.  And what crime would this be?" he says, "the great eucalyptus robbery?"  My life nearly ended by choking on a Milk Dud laughing. 

So, I could only do 15 in 20 minutes.  Sue me.  More nonsense soon. 

Saturday night nonsense

It's been one hell of a week.  It's too much for the blog, too much for anybody really.  It's Saturday night and it seems like a good night for some stream of consciousness blogging.  It's my blog, I can do that.

I'm home watching Last Chance Harvey because it's Dustin Hoffman week here at Chateau Faler.  Tuesday night was The Graduate.  It's such a good film, go watch it.  And listen to the movie version of "Mrs. Robinson," the lyrics are different than the one you know.  

In the movie, Mrs. Robinson wears animal print in almost every scene.   She was the original cougar.

Worcestershire sauce is not soy sauce and should not be used as a substitute under any circumstance.

It's almost my favorite holiday, Sweet Potato Pie Thanksgiving.

It disturbs me that you'd never know we have Thanksgiving if you didn't look at the newspaper ads to see that turkeys and cranberry sauce is on sale. 

Target has every Christmas thing in the world out and I hate that I bought some decorations the day before Halloween.

I saw a picture of a cowboy hamster riding a guinea pig the other day.  Don't worry about the economy or healthcare, America!  We gots cowboy hamsters!

The winter Olympics are coming to Vancouver.  One of the mascots is a sasquatch.  A freakin' sasquatch. What -- was the abominable snowman busy?  Perhaps practicing his triple sow cow for the ice skating doubles with his partner, el chupacabra?  Another mascot is a sea bear.  This is from vancouver2010.com: Miga is a young sea bear who lives in the ocean with her family pod, beyond Vancouver Island, near Tofino, British Columbia. Sea bears are part killer whale and part bear.  PART KILLER WHALE, PART BEAR.  The hell you say.  I must have missed that discovery on the Animal Planet.

Mind you, I lived in Canada for 22 months.  There are real animals there.  I know, I saw some.

Tropical Storm Ida is coming, batten down the hatches and stuff. 

Stupid storms.

I've started thinking about what the soundtrack to the movie of my life story will be.  Now that I think about it, it may have to be a musical.  Jazz hands!

I really hate the new Windows 7 commercials. 

When people ask me if I watched "the game" I never know what to say.  I don't watch sports, except for the Olympics.  I think my new answer for "did you watch the game?" is going to be "no, I was busy practicing for the luge, then had get fitted for new curling shoes.  I'm going to try for 2 medals this winter!"

Did y'all hear that Nicholas Cage is broke now? His manager blew all his money.  I don't believe it.  Cage spent all his cash on Elvis' jumpsuits. 

You didn't believe me about the cowboy hamsters, did you?

new obsession alert

I'm obsessed with letterpress. 

Those of you who know me well know that I love everything about the written word, typeface, fonts, color, printing, and imagery.  Letterpress is the one medium that combines all of those things in an organic way that is unlike anything else I've seen.  Maybe it's because I learned to type on an actual typewriter and not a computer, but I love the feel of paper, I like ink, I adore the uniqueness that is only obtained by doing something by hand. 

I've been dabbling in computer graphics for a couple of years now, self-taught in Photoshop Elements, and I enjoy it quite a bit, but there is nothing like paper and ink.  A year ago, I drew an image for the ScrapFest! t-shirts and I hadn't had that much fun working on a project in years.  I love a Papermate Felt-tip Flair pen in a multitude of colors, they make me happy. 

Over the past week I've been looking for inspiration for the new ScrapFest! print materials we send to our vendors and I'm tired of the over-worked look I see so much in posters lately.  A few years ago, I saw a feature on Hatch Show Print, a letterpress shop in Nashville, on the Martha Stewart show and I Googled them.  I knew I liked the look of letterpress, but I was blown away with the work they've done and decided I needed to pare down and do something in the vain of Hatch Show Print. 

Here's a great little documentary on Hatch Show, so you'll see what I'm talking about. Their work is a who's who of country and rock music, and they do custom work for weddings and all kinds of cool stuff.  Take a look.

In the words of Liz Lemon from 30 Rock: I want to go to there.  I was in Nashville a couple of years ago and SO wish I would have gone to Hatch Show Print.  I need one of those monoprints.  Need.  I think a trip to Nashville is in order, who wants to come? 

So, all this digital work I do is great and all, but there's nothing like touching the stuff.  That's why I'm getting this little letterpress for myself.  Yeah, I'm getting it. 

a little lemonheads for your Friday

Here's a little known Kerry fact for you: I discovered one of my still-favorite bands, The Lemonheads, by way of the now defunct Sassy magazine.  Loved that magazine, but that's another post for another day. 

I've been doing a lot of searching for visual inspiration for the ScrapFest! print materials, but one cannot have visual inspiration without musical inspiration, and this evening I turned to the Lemonheads for said inspiration.  Here are a couple of my favorites from Evan Dando and company. 

My all-time fave, "Confetti."  Love love love this song.

The wonderful "Into Your Arms."

And "It's About Time."  This song has great lyrics like  "patience is like bread I say, I ran out of that yesterday."