kellementology

life according to me

Category: Blathering

  • Unfocusedness

    I figured it was time for one of my ADD posts. It should match my brain about now. So much for Wordless Wednesday, right?

    Le Blog: The orange is so not staying so hold on to your shorts. But I do like the layout. I just needed to find something that would run. Internet Explorer SUCKS and IE6 is not loving WordPress 2.5 or something. Well, that’s what I’m thinking, so to make sure I completely ignore Abraham Lincoln’s sage advice about not being able to please all the people all of the time, I’ve become a theme switching maniac. It won’t end anytime soon. But doods. Could you PLEASE upgrade your web browsers? It’s so not challenging. Give it a go. Hell. Splurge and download Firefox. It takes a few seconds. Firefox is terrific.

    American Noodle: Has anyone figured out that Jason doesn’t WANT to be on the show? He’s over it. It’s a game. David Arche-what-ever his shucky darn name is has turned into a male version of Mariah Carey, whom I less than enjoy listening to. I’ve never quite adapted to that whole up and down the register wailing that goes on in her songs. I do get that I’m beyond ancient, and that I am no authority on anything but what I believe sounds exceptional, but still. He’s got a good voice, but the judges are just pandering to whomever the Tweeners will choose. I’ve lost interest in his voice and his no longer believable “who me?” look of surprise when they sprinkle him with their judge-ness. They just want to be recognized as someone who gets credit for his inevitable famousness. The RTR actually got up to take a shower last night when David A was singing because he just can’t stand the hand waving squealing females in front of the stage any longer. David Cook deserves to win. Period.

    Hell’s Kitchen: Are these people for real this year? O. M. G. Do any of them actually know how to cook? I can’t figure out why we actually are spending time watching this disaster. It reminds me of why I don’t like reality shows. But hey, it’s family time. We have to watch something while we’re eating dinner (yes, that late sometimes…). and we can make fun of the nonsense together and the talking doesn’t exactly interfere with the show. Who knows?

    Vacation: Finally booked an apartment near the Campo di Fiore for the first four nights of our time in Rome this summer. I’ve got plans for that kitchen. Now, on to the Amalfi coast…I would love to stay in a little pensione…maybe schedule a trip to Capri…so many decisions, but moving along on the plans and starting to get excited. Finally.

    Politics: I am so tired of all the crap the talking heads are throwing around about the candidates. It’s beyond annoying and I’d love to market some personalized corks for each of their mouths. Big ones. Wouldn’t that be swell? I’m even more tired of people who don’t take the time to find out what they can about candidates, instead believing what the pundits say. How can anyone at this point in time actually think that the decision we’re going to make next November can be taken that lightly. Aren’t things screwed up enough in the country? Hell. In the world? I’m sooooooo looking forward to paying even more money for gasoline. Aren’t you? Yowza. I’m so cranky about it all, I can’t sit down long enough to articulately write anything specific about it. I’m disgusted. And I don’t want to hear Hilary dropping her ing endings or swilling beer with locals. It’s lame.

    Homefront: My mom is settling in here in Paradise. We went on a field trip down to the grocery store yesterday. You know, to show her some places to be familiar with. And while we were there, a rather distinguished elderly man, tall with a nice grey suit, stopped us while we were involved in a brainless discussion on what type of catfood our cats might like, and proceded to tell us four jokes. He was cute. But it was bizarre. Seriously. Then my mother ran into a woman she used to work with years ago and they talked for five minutes or so about life changing decisions like moving and giving away everything. When they were finished, Mom asked me, “Where are we going next?” and a man approaching her from behind leaned over her shoulder and said, “To the liquor store,” and she cracked up because I had just asked her if she wanted some Miller Lite. While in the checkout lane, the checker, someone I see regularly in the store blathered at us the whole time, and then told Mom she was gorgeous and that it was too bad his dad had just remarried. That he and his brother didn’t even like the new wife.

    Totally. Hilarious.

    Dooce: We used up an ENTIRE morning trying to figure out when you were going to be on the Today Show today. It TOTALLY cut into my blogging time. And when you were finally on, were you thinking you’d like to smack Kathy Lee Gifford as much as I did? What is up with women who “don’t like computers” because they can’t figure out how to use them so blame it on the computer. Huh? And you did want to pull her hair over the comments she made about Leta, right? I did. But Heather, your highlights and cut are looking terrific, girl. Way.

    And like I said. ADD.

  • Theme switching in progress…

    Hi All — I’m working on my theme today, so things will be a bit strange. So what else is new, right? You just never know around here.

    I’m probably not off to a great start when you consider that I couldn’t figure out why, when I opened a new page, it would automatically scroll to the very bottom. No matter what I did, I couldn’t figure it out.

    Until I realized my plate was sitting on my space bar — and maybe the control key, the alt key, and a few others just for good measure.

    What a dork.

    Plus, ever since I uploaded WordPress 2.5, some strange things have been happening to my widgets. Like. They’re missing. I load the code, move them where I want them, save, refresh, and huh? They’re gone.

    So enough of this nonsense.

    And you’ll be glad to know I’m multi-tasking. Cleaning the RTR’s bathroom in between loading, deleting, and just for an occasional break. Sounds efficient, doesn’t it?

    I had to do something. My mom’s expected at our house within a week and will be needing to share his bathroom. I should probably bring in the garden hose with the power nozzle.

    News at eleven on that.

    Thanks for your patience!

  • Not a rage in sight…unfortunately.

    I wish I could say I was doing something that was so stimulating I had no time to sit here and write. But I don’t.

    I spend the littlest time possible getting ready in the morning to get in my car and drive to work for half a day. I do errands if I have them. Then I come home. If I’m lucky, I’m able to sit down and write something, but most often now, whatever I write is less than meaningful. It just reminds me that I am not finding the time I used to have.

    Like now.

    I’m supposed to be getting ready for work. The only reason I’m sitting here is because I didn’t get up at 5:10 to walk. I don’t have to drive semi-comatose and less than thrilled about having to go to class teenagers to school today.

    What I can say about this strange life I’ve been leading for the past few months is that it’s very mechanized, and I’ve thought much about people who have led this type of life for years.

    I would have dropped out of the human race long ago if I’d had to do this for any length of time. It’s monotonous.

    My brain can’t engage when I don’t have extended periods of time to do things that require thought. I’m able to just get started, to begin to think, to warm up, and my eyes flit to the clock on my monitor reminding me that I need to get dressed. I need to put make up on. Comb my hair.

    Get in my car.

    I don’t want to.

    I don’t feel like it. But I will. And I will see pleasant people today who will smile and say hello. I’ll do my work, take care of my errands, and come home.

    I’ll take care of a few things that can’t wait any longer, and then the evening is here.

    I have no clue what’s going on in the world because my short time in the car allows me the barest dose of NPR and its incessant diatribe of Iraq.

    I did get to watch Gordon Ramsay last night on Hell’s Kitchen though. I need to rage against something like him.

    Do not go gentle into that good night,

    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

    Because their words had forked no lightning they

    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

    Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

    Range, rage against the dying of the light.

    Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

    And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

    Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    And you, my father, there on the sad height,

    Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Dylan Thomas

    I’d say that just about sums things up. Like I said. I need to rage about something.

    Anything.

  • What time is it?

    It’s not quite midnight here and it’s lovely outside.  When I open the back door, the air rushes in and I can smell the jasmine blooming on the fence between our neighbor’s house and ours.  It’s warm out and the sky is clear.  I can see constellations I don’t normally see.

    It’s beautiful.

    But I’m tired and need to be in bed.

    Spring break is over for the RTR, and there are three weeks still to finish the Moh’s busy season.  A lifetime, it seems.

    I’ve been trying to book our flights to Italy for our summer vacation, but it figures that using points for one ticket and trying to book the others at the same place is more than what I’d thought it might be.

    What is up with all the companies that just presume to take us to the cleaners?  I should know better.

    I hate that.  And I hate very little.

    But I’ll persist in much the same way that I persisted last November during NaBloPoMo when I was writing letters.  I just received a letter stating that April’s theme for NaBloPoMo was “letters.”  Hmmm… might I have been famous for writing all my letters diligently last November and now others have gotten the idea? And since when is NaBloPoMo something that happens outside November?

    Whatever.

    Olga…I know I need to do my six word thingy, but I’m lacking energy at this moment.  I’ll do it, surely.

    It will be something like, “Day late and a dollar short.”  That should do it.

    Cheers.

    And good night.

  • Blog Horoscope 2008

    Now that I have another year to look forward to blog-wise, I’ve decided to look to the stars to determine what may be in store. It’s not that I don’t believe I have control over this, because obviously, I do.

    I’ve not seen anyone else’s fingers a pecking at these keys.

    Having said that far less eloquently than I intended, please let me define exactly which stars I’m referring to.

    Horoscope stars. And if my limited knowledge in this particular area is correct, a horoscope is dependent on an individual’s ability to discern the extent to which certain celestial bodies are aligned, thereby deciding one’s fate so to speak.

    I wonder if it works for a blog?

    Since I created this blog’s first entry on March 15 (which in and of itself is not a great date when one considers that the Ides of March did not bode well for Julius Caesar), I shall use that as the official “birthday” for this exercise. And please trust that I will not forget to refer back to it to measure the course of accuracy as the year proceeds.

    What? You thought this might end up as the now defunct phoodplan did? My fingers have no difficulty exercising, so the likelihood that this experiment will work is fairly high. No. Calories. Involved.

    So moving right along, after surveying a variety of on-line sources and comparing their main points of interest, I chose this one.

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  • Where does the afternoon go?

    Okay, okay.

     

    So I know the headers are not quite right with the color of the rest of the page. I’m working on it.

    I was never fond of the aqua color that is prevalent in the page and have just tolerated it. Quite the exercise for someone like me. Too bad that exercise doesn’t burn calories. And I’m tired of the font, and the “kellementology” thingy above my header which has to be there. I tell yah.

    But I will be messing around with the font and colors, so if you don’t like something, by all means, let it rip. I can’t promise I’ll listen to a single thing you say, but it’s free to comment on my blog, yanno? And for a small fee will offer suggestions about how you might bump up your authoritative voice if your aim is to actually get someone to hear you.

    I’d be just fine if I could sit up here all night and figure it out. But there are so may have tos, like cooking dinner, and brushing my teeth, and sleeping, and American Noodle. Speaking of which…

    …how did you think the guys did last night? Hmmmm? Any favorites? Anybody you think should be voted off the noodle? Do tell! And will the biker type chickster get voted off this week? I’m thinking yes…

    Because that’s a whole lot more interesting than discussing what happened in Ohio yesterday. What is up? Could we please get everyone out there to vote? What is so difficult about it? All you have to do is make a mark. Or poke a button. It’s not really challenging. Just make sure it’s for the right person.

     

    Obama, Obama, Obama…

  • Bottled Fat Free Opinions and some Sand

    I’ve been in food land. You, gentle reader, should know that by now when the end of each month comes around, I will not be here. Surely you must have come across at least one of the eight trillion loaves of Julia Child’s French bread that are flooding Bloggsville with carbs, haven’t you? Just for grins and giggles, I did a Google search to see where I fell in the mix and actually looked at each page…scanning…searching, and feel not too badly surfacing on page 25 connected to Foodbuzz. I guess I’m not quite famous. Yet. I stopped looking for any mention of my foodblog on page 45 or something. Clearly I either have time to burn, or don’t feel like cleaning my house.

    I’ll keep working on it. Being famous — not cleaning my house.

    But, being the pithy one that I pretend to be, I’ve decided to get that point across with my rendition of Message in a Bottle. The point being that I’m a hopeless foodie and that it does take time when one enjoys much more about food than simply eating. Call it my version of the Slow Food Movement. The incomparable Cooper of Wonderland or Not, Should Be Famous and Darfur, an Unforgiveable Hell on Earth graced me with the opportunity to put my virtual Message in a Bottle and I do have to say that I’m feeling fairly famous about that since she NEVER, EVER even bats an eye at memes or awards.

    It’ll be rough trying to pulling on my jammie top tonight before bed, so fat is my head over this.

    In all seriousness, Message in a Bottle began at Mimi Writes, and from my visit there, I discovered that Mimi also instigated the Band Meme of which I was also a daft lemming willing participant. I do have to say that it was one of the more inspired memes I’ve been smacked with intrigued by and any excuse to open Photoshop is a complete afternoon sucker upper absolutely fine.

    Unfortunately, I just might be one of those mentioned who resides in her dungeon. Mayhaps I didn’t follow those directions either? *sigh*

    The directions for Message in a Bottle are not quite as lengthy (see below) as Julia Child’s recipe for pain francais (17 pages…), but I can feel myself not wanting to attend to them since there isn’t food involved. A hamburger for engaging might be a good idea since I’m on election watch this evening which is on a semi- collision course with American Noodle (and OMG how could the Texting Tweeners not vote off the cool, but not so melodious biker female?). And if I’m not mistaken, New Amsterdam, that show Fox has been dangling in front of us since before the holidays is going to premiere this evening (the one with the hunky guy who lives forever and how awful would that be?)

    Heavens to Betsy. How have I come to this?

    Here is my message in a bottle…kellypea’s message in a bottle

    My message can be taken literally; goodness knows that I live by this advice. But more importantly, it is a message reminding us that if we deny ourselves that which is special, we risk so much of what can make life truly amazing, relatively speaking, of course. If I must also explain — from an analytical angle, dark chocolate and red wine are a source of anitoxidants. The butter? Well, if you’ve been using “spread,” how are those triglyceride levels, hmmmm? It’s all about moderation. *bends over to drag soapbox from under the desk* You have noticed what happens when you really enjoy something and saturate yourself with it, it loses its sparkle, right?

    Okay, so not sex or rock ‘n’ roll okay? Behave. But if you thought about it before you read it, consider yourself seriously tagged.

  • Is Monday over yet?

    I’m at a loss for words today. What that really means is I don’t feel like making the effort to write. Tired, I guess.

    I spent the weekend — yes, the entire weekend — engaged in my once monthly baking challenge completely flummoxed. I know. Savor the moment. Wallow in it. Mark it on your calendar, for gawdsakes, and then get over it.

    Usually, after I’ve completed each challenge, I hurry to look at the photos, and then get busy on my write-up. Bear in mind this is usually at the last possible minute considering we all agree to post our results on the same day. The last possible minute for me is about midnight when I’ve just finished loading the photos and then can begin searching for others’ results.

    Sounds exciting, huh?

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  • There’s a hitch in my giddy-up.

    I need some vitameetaveggemin or something. Today I feel how one feels when one has used up her happy quota. It’s exhausting being in a good mood. I’m completely pooped. Worn out. Outta gas. It doesn’t mean I’m not smiling, however. Of course, it’s only because I’m in an exhausted stupor. You know, instead of an energetic stupor, if there is such a thing.

    Part of it is caused by an ever growing list of computer/blog/design related things. I just can’t find the same amount of time I used to in order to get it done. I’ve been looking for a new theme, and am less than thrilled by nearly all of them. This one is great except for the comment glitch that Cooper graciously offered a fix for and I haven’t gotten around to fixing. How rude is that? Good thing I don’t do this for a living, right? Jeez. And part of it is because I’ve been up way late for a few nights and am seriously dragging. Too much sunshine and fresh air with no beauty rest can’t possibly be good for a house potato, can it?

    But it is frustrating, because I truly enjoy it all, and my cup’s feeling a bit half empty over the whole thing. Plus, I’m seriously behind on my blog visits — another thing that makes me smile. S.L.A.C.K.E.R. I know. I’ll work on it.

    And I’ve been messing around with that cat in my sidebar. It’s very addicting.

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  • Fridays & The Path to Wisdom

    OH-EM-GEE (as the RTR would say) OMG!

    It’s FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes! And I have so much to feel giddy about I fear it will bowl me over. Or something like that.

    The sun is up, the air is bracing (well, I think it is, but I’m not sure because I only cracked the door enough to let Her Fatissima out for her morning constitutional). But you know, cold. Like 48 degrees F. Bwhahahaha! Er…I mean Brrrrrrrrr….!

    My first cuppa coffee was swell so I think I’ll have another.

    As of this writing, Dubyah will only be in office for 347 days, 1 hour, 38 minutes and 56 seconds according to the countdown clock on my monitor.

    American Idol will FINALLY be starting the good shows next week — and I can’t wait — instead of all the up close and personal stuff we forget after all the tweeners start calling and choosing their next heart throb with big hair and the shadow of a mustache not quite ready to be shaved.

    Marcos, my colorist did not fire me as feared. I just got the usual lecture about needing for my hair to be lighter so my roots won’t show when they, well…show. Duh.

    And Dan, the cutter man pretty much cut most of my hairs off. It grows, yanno?Dan the Hair Man gave me a buzz job.

    I’m almost ready for the soiree I’m hosting tomorrow night featuring lip smackin’ Greek-Turkish-Moroccan cuisine prepared by myself and my VBF to celebrate the birthdays of two very dear friends (VGF and She Who Has No Blog Acronym) Oh. And their husbands. 😉

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